Diane thought about running. Running anywhere to escape this dreadful, agonizing scene. But there wasn't any place she could go; this was her hell, her punishment. Whatever had been left of her marriage was finished for good now, she thought. Her whole life had crashed around her, for within the past hour she had changed from an innocent and faithful wife to a common whore, a sperm basin for a complete stranger. The full impact of the hour struck her with complete impact and she cringed in her chair, waiting for the cauldron of deserved abuse Roger was sure to heap upon her.
"Now, wait a minute, Roger," Cord said placidly. But his voice was authoritarian, full of control. "Sit down and listen to me."
For the first time, Diane ventured to look up. Roger was staring at her, burning a brand of loathing on her forehead. She averted her eyes, unable to withstand his naked hatred. But he obeyed Cord's command and sat down again.
"That's better. Roger, are you going to deny that you were screwing my wife?"
"I…" Roger choked, caught on his own petard. "I…"
"Don't make excuses. We watched you giving it to her. Diane and I both."
There was a long, terrible silence. Diane could not control herself. "Oh, please, Roger, forgive me! Please forgive me! I… I didn't know what I was doing! It was a mistake, a horrible mistake!"
"No," Marc said calmly. "Not any more than my wife was mistaken in fucking you, Roger. I liked it, Cindy liked it, and damn it, if you'd both be honest with yourselves, you'd realize you liked it, too." He paused. "If you regard each other as exclusive possessions, and hold that sex is fundamentally dirty, degrading, then this is one experiment you probably won't repeat. I'm sorry about that. I really can't accept that concept, nor the one that says someone else can spoil your possession by using it. I like to think of sex as being clean, natural, good fun, and a nice way of becoming closer to somebody else."
"I don't think of sex as being dirty," Roger shot back. "But I can't see throwing all sense of decency out the window like a… a rutting animal!"
"Calm down, Roger," Marc said. "The trouble is that both of you were raised as puritans, where innocence and modesty were virtues, and sex is only used as a means of procreation. But that's not right, Roger, and it never has been. Group sex is fun, too, and joy is as moral as procreation. It adds novelty, a beautiful experience to your life if you'd let it, without taking anything away from your love for each other."
Diane sat dazed, Marc's strong arguments of his and Cindy's way of life battling with her own concepts. This was wrong, all wrong… or was it? Was his really the better way of life? She shook her head, confused. So much had happened in so short a time…
"Look, kids," Cindy said mildly. "Think about it. How you decide is strictly your business. We're advocating one way, because we like it, but it may not be your way. At least be familiar with the fact that it exists."
Diane, a certain new-found courage seeping into her soul, turned to Cindy. "How — I mean, what happened to…?" She faltered, unable to speak the question in her heart.
"How did I become involved?" Cindy prompted. "I don't mind telling you, Diane, because I've learned to be at peace with myself and accept the idea of being a woman. I was married before, to a man who knew only one position of sex and did that one badly all the time. I had, to put it mildly, strong sexual conflicts. I divorced him, not only because of that, but for all sorts of reasons, and then I met Marc. He showed me some stag films one night, and we made mad, passionate love afterwards. I had been released, really exploding, for the first time. I became aware of what sex is all about. Later I had the opportunity to watch a couple make love. They sucked each other off, and really did all the tricks, and you know what? I didn't find it to be ugly as my first husband had taught me, I found it beautiful."
Diane nodded numbly.
"I can't accept that idea," Roger said primly. He got to his feet, his eyes still blazing uncontrollable rage. "I think we'd better go, Diane."
"Hey," said Marc. "Take it in the spirit it was given, will you? Tell you what. Why don't you two come over for dinner tomorrow night?"
"No," Roger said. "That would be… impossible."
Marc shrugged. "The invitation is open. We'd love to have you."
"I'm sure," Roger said coldly.
Cord shrugged. "Think about it."
Roger pressed his lips tightly together and took Diane's arm and pulled her to her feet.
Quaking with guilt, with physical soreness from Marc's drubbing cock, with mental confusion, Diane allowed herself to be roughly led toward the sun porch and the dressing room inside.
CHAPTER FIVE
Diane came out of the bathroom and walked into the bedroom, wearing her long nylon nightie, her blonde hair long and flowing down her back. Roger was lying on the bed, his hands clasped behind his head, smoking a cigarette. He wore only his jockey shorts.
Diane swallowed into her shame-dried throat as she stood just inside the door, looking at him. His eyes were on the ceiling. He hadn't looked at her or spoken to her since they'd left the Cord home in Peacock Gap that afternoon. She had tried to talk to him several times, but either he walked away from her or the words constricted in her throat before she could get them said. She felt total and abject self-abomination at what had happened to her with Marc Cord on that sun porch couch, what she had willingly allowed herself to become. Her cunt still throbbed from the merciless buffeting of Cord's gigantic cock, and her breasts were swollen and tender from his impassioned manipulations.
His cum is still swishing around inside me, she thought sickly, endeavoring to further punish herself for her unforgivable transgression. I'm carrying Marc Cord's sticky white seeds in my belly right now… I'm nothing but a dirty, filthy whore and my soul will surely burn forever in the fires of hell for what I've done, for the sin I've committed.
Slowly, she walked to the bed and sank onto it, careful not to touch her husband. Roger didn't look at her, his eyes remained on the ceiling, the cigarette curling smoke into the electric-charged air of the room.
Suddenly, Roger asked in a cold, dead voice. "Did you like it, Diane?"
The sound of his voice caused her heart to pound violently. "What?"
"The fuck Cord gave you this afternoon?" Roger said. "Did you like it?"
Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh Roger, please…"
"Goddamn it!" he faltered. "Did you like it?"
In spite of herself, Diane found her mind returning to the episode on the couch, to her wide-spread legs and the sight of Cord's huge, blood-engorged penis sawing mercilessly back and forth into her widespread vagina. Did she like it, did she really? Yes, she thought with more personal revulsion. Yes, she had liked it. She had liked it enough to achieve her own climax, to cum in blinding, crashing waves, to cry out her own fulfillment to him and send his flood of milky semen surging into her…
The revelation that, truly, she had enjoyed Marc Cord sent the tears of humiliation cascading like a salty waterfall down over her cheeks. Oh yes, she was the vilest adulteress, the foulest harlot, the most miserable of all the world's cyprians…
"Well?" Roger asked. "I asked you a question, bitch."
"Oh, God, Roger, darling, don't torture me!"
"You did like it, didn't you?"
"Yes!" she blurted. "Yes, yes, yes!"
"You fucking whore!"
"Yes, I'm a whore!" she cried, throwing herself against him and sobbing uncontrollably against his bare chest. "Oh God, Roger, yes I am!"
He didn't touch her. "You act like you're proud of the fact."
"Nooooo!" she wailed miserably. "Roger, no, please, I'm not proud! I'm sick, just sick!"
"You Goddamned well ought to be."
She continued to sob against his hirsute chest, her nails digging lightly, convulsively, into the skin. "Roger… Roger, are you sorry you… did it with Cindy Cord?"