In a few minutes, Lois had gotten her breath under control, smoothed down her run-away emotions and rationalized away her temporary, vicarious involvement with the couple on the sleeping bag. She shamed herself for being a curious voyeur, promising herself that it would never happen, again.
Then, she went to the door of their camper, opened it and went inside, a radiant smile on her face. Going to Stan, she impulsively threw her arms around him, from the back and kissed him on the neck. "It's just lovely out tonight!" she said, lightheartedly. "You should have gone with me!" Maybe, he would've gotten hot… if he had heard… and seen them…
Stan was annoyed by her interruption. "Yeah I suppose… but watch it… I've just about got this damned radio fixed… and I don't want to lose any parts!" He shrugged her away.
Reluctantly, her heart breaking at his rebuff, she sat down opposite him and tried to watch, with some interest, what he was doing.
Finally, he announced that it was repaired. "I'll put it back in place in the morning." He got up, stretched and yawned. "I think I'll go down to the bath house and take a shower…"
"Okay, darling…" Lois agreed, "and while you're gone… I'll get ready for bed. I brought that new, shorty nightgown along… would you like for me to… wear it tonight…?" She made her voice suggestive.
"Hell… I don't care! Wear what you want to!" he grunted, disinterestedly, heading for the door with his towel in hand.
She hid her disappointment and added, "I–I thought maybe you and I could… have some fun… tonight…"
"I've had a pretty hard day! I'm kind of tired…" With that, he left the camper.
Tears glistened in her eyes. There was still an aching need in her loins, and warm sensations of sexual arousal still smoldered there, banked slightly, but ready, on the instant, to burst back into a consuming, raging fire of passion.
Having showered earlier in the evening, it didn't take her long to undress; putting on a little perfume and the frilly, see-through nightgown, she turned off most of the lights and crawled up into the big bunk that jutted out over the cab of the truck. She was determined that she would make herself provocative… desirable. Somehow, she had to make Stan realize her need… make him want, to make love to her… tonight… I just don't understand… what's happened to him to us…! Oh, it would be so wonderful to be able to make love… as free and easy… as those people were tonight…!
Then, she remembered:… But, heavens… I'd almost forgotten! He beat her with a belt… then, he used his mouth on her genitals… licking and sucking her down there! Ugh! I don't see how that could be… very nice… but that girl, Terry… seemed to like it! Maybe if I… She couldn't get beyond the maybe. There was just no way, she decided, that she would ever allow that!
Soon, she was going over more of the details of what she had heard and seen, the memories working deep in her, and before she realized it, salacious sensations were coursing through her, again… and she could hardly wait for Stan to return from his shower.
When she heard him at the door, she leaned up on one elbow, arranging herself, fetchingly, hoping he wouldn't ignore her and praying that he would change his mind.
Stan chose to ignore her. She watched as he changed into his pajamas and was dismayed, when he began to make up the smaller bunk, converted from the breakfast nook area.
"Wh-Why are you going to sleep down there… by yourself?" Lois asked her husband, dismally.
"I told you, God damn it! I'm tired… and we've got a lot of miles to cover, tomorrow!" He turned out the light and crawled into the single bunk.
Lois pulled up the light blanket, feeling completely rejected… again! Tears streamed from her eyes… but she would not cry aloud. She wouldn't let him know how much he had hurt her. All she had wanted from him… was his husbandly love.
… And, she had love to spare… to give him, in return. She had this beautiful body, clean, healthy… vibrant… and aching to be loved. Unconsciously, her hands drifted up under the flimsy material of her nightgown to cup the mounding fullnesses of her breasts, the magnificent orbs softly pliant in her palms. The hardened cones of her nipples were sensitive in her fingers, as she rolled them, caressingly. "Oh, God… I'm so aroused… so hot for Stan… but there's nothing I can do to get him… t-to fuck me…!"
As her hands wandered, then, down over her flat belly, to the golden triangle of her loins, and she felt the searing sensations of need that flared there, out of control, she slipped a finger down into the furrow, parting the downy, fringe of hair to find the tiny, hardened shaft of her clitoris. Her touch there caused her to gasp with ecstasy.
She had never done it to herself… but as she massaged, delicately, along the short length of the erectile bud, she knew, suddenly, that it was one way, at least, of gaining the release from the sexual tension built up in her. It was wrong! She knew it… but… I've got to do something… or I'll go out of my mind…!
On the bunk, below, she heard Stan's soft snore. He was sound asleep. She knew then that she would do it. She did!
Lois was so aroused that with only a little more manipulation of her clitoris, she came to climax, convulsively, and she had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming aloud.
Then, as she relaxed in the wash of the euphoria of sexual satiety, she marveled, at what had happened to her… what she had done for herself, but it was short-lived as her conscience regained the upper hand, again, punishing her, scourging her… for what she believed to be a trespass.
Her sleep was fitful, restless… and she dreamed a bizarre dream. She was naked, tied hand and foot, her legs spread wide, while a fiend, a veritable monster, tantalized her, sexually. The monster man had a huge black beard.
Leeringly, he told her exactly what he was going to do to her… and in the dream, Lois wanted him to do it; she wanted him to do every vile thing to her… that he could think of doing.
Just as the fiend with the black beard lowered his mouth to her seething vagina to lick and suck her there, he was changed, in a twinkling… and it was her husband, Stan, who knelt between her legs, his face only inches above her loins.
"No!" she screamed. "You can't do that… t-to me!"
Lois woke up!
Oh, God! It was only a dream…
… But, it seemed so real! Suddenly, she was aware that her hand was clamped tightly between her legs. She decided that was the cause of the dream… and she felt some relief.
Then, she wondered:… But, in the dream… it seemed to be all right… for that horrible man to do it to me… and I wouldn't let Stan do it…! Why…? God! I'm really mixed up!
CHAPTER THREE
In the big, double bunk of their trailer, Harry Williams finished off the last gulp of his double Scotch, set the glass aside, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and reached out for his wife, Vivian.
"Come here, damn it! I'm in the mood for a piece of ass!" he told her.
Vivian was bitchy, tonight. "What's the matter, honey… you losing your touch…?"
She was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling off her slacks, when her husband wrapped his brawny arms around her and pulled her back toward him, to plaster his lips to hers. After a moment or two, she squirmed away from him.
"Now… what in hell does that remark mean?" Harry growled, scratching his hairy chest. He lay nude in the bunk, big and bulky, his green eyes flashing a mean anger.
"Well…" she chided, half-kidding him, now, as she saw that he had taken her remark too seriously. "We've been on our vacation for three days… and nothing's happened… yet!"
"It's a little different!" he explained. "But I spotted a doll, today… and she's right here in this camp ground!"