Deep within the well of her pussy, his cock jerked once… twice.
"Aaaggghh. Don't move, darling! Please don't move!" she whimpered piteously, unable to stop the flow of tears streaming down both sides of her face. Never before in her life had she experienced such pressure, such pain anywhere in her body. She felt almost as if someone had shoved the roughness of a corn cob deep into her vagina. She was positive that he had not only ripped her hymen, but had split her entire vaginal area all the way from pelvis to anus as well. She could feel every rigid little muscle of his throbbing penis pressing, beating against her tortured cuntal walls. His mammoth cock's head seemed so far inside her that she was positive it was past her navel, and must be lodged somewhere up in the area of her breasts.
Stan lay atop her, and she could tell that he was beginning to regain some of his sanity. There was a look almost of despair on his face, as though he realized what he had just done to her. Then he groaned, "I'm sorry."
Grace stifled her sobs. It was now too late to be sorry, she thought unhappily. The deed had been done. It was as much her fault as it was his. She hurt. She hurt worse than she had ever hurt before in her life. And yet, that was part of the game, she supposed, part of the ordeal a woman must go through. She loved him, nonetheless, in spite of what he had done to her, but she had learned something new and hitherto unknown about him – he could be brutal, selfish.
"I'm sorry, Grace," he repeated, looking down in a mute appeal for forgiveness.
She loved him. She loved him. That was all that mattered. What difference did one or two nights make. She closed her eyes and nodded, then said quietly, "It's all right, darling."
Stan made his prick jerk inside her rapidly two or three times. She bore it submissively, shutting off the tortured nerve endings down there, trying to ignore the pain, wanting happiness, wanting it to feel as beautiful and as wonderful as she had heard it would be.
Slowly, gently now, he began stroking in and out of her. It was painful, but not as much as before. It seemed to take an eternity, but then within seconds she felt his pace increase and his breathing becoming rapid and ragged. She forced herself to grind her pelvis up and to meet his powerful thrusts, falsifying an enthusiasm she did not feel. And abruptly she felt the pressure increase in her already stretched beyond capacity vagina as the mushroom head of his hardened prick ballooned in size. "I'm cumming," he groaned. "Oh, Jesus… I'm cumming."
"Yes darling," she crooned seductively, wanting it to end as soon as possible. "Cum, cum up in me now."
She felt the first hot impatient spurts of his semen wildly spewing out into her womb. Then he collapsed atop her. Moments later, he had lifted his head and asked, "Did you… too?"
She lied and nodded her head. Then, weeping again, put her arms around his chest, pulled his sperm drained body back down against hers, and stared up at the black limbs of the trees gently moving back and forth in the soft night sky…
The memory evaporated and she abruptly became aware, as she gazed down at Stan's letter, that she was crying again. She read the last phrase over and over again, "My body needs yours, just as yours must need mine. Our sex life has been so great, beginning with that first night by the Spence…"
She sat up upright, feeling shame overwhelming her. She had never told him – never wanted him to know – but she never, not even once, had come close to achieving a climax. In her mind she knew positively she was one of those women who are frigid, unfeeling. And she knew, with an unshakable certainty that she would never never tell him the truth… that, instead of being "great", sex was strongly abhorrent to her…
CHAPTER TWO
When Grace went down to the swimming pool a few minutes later, Judi was already in the water cavorting with 50 year-old Ricky Karl. She really didn't know how the girl stood him. Although once allegedly a professional basketball player, the man's muscles had long since turned to fat. He was gross, insulting, crude and vulgar, and had an air about him which implied he could buy anyone or anything. As far as Grace was concerned, he was a criminal and should be in jail. It was common knowledge that, among other things, he was one of the area's biggest bookmakers. And it was also common knowledge that he carried a reserve policeman's badge from a nearby city and thus, presumably, was untouchable. He ingratiated himself with the police, giving them gifts of expensive shirts and sweaters taken from one of the warehouses that he rented to a major men's chain store. It was rumoured that he could fix anything, also rumoured that he had staged a burglary of one of his own warehouses in order to collect insurance. He was, in fact, a symbol of everything bad… something diametrically opposed to what Stan was fighting for in Vietnam.
But what Grace hated most about him was his arrogant assumption that all he had to do was crook a finger at a woman, and she would jump into bed with him. Some women, maybe, but not her! She would die first! He had come oozing up to her like some slimy animal in the pool and put his fat arm proprietarily around her shoulders. When she gave him a piece of her mind, he had laughed sardonically and called her, "Miss Frigidaire".
She had struck back the only way she knew, verbally wounding him by saying, "I'm not frigid… it's just that I think you're a fat, dirty old man. You just disgust me and you make my stomach turn."
His face had turned almost black in fury, then abruptly his demeanor changed and he became his oily ingratiating self again. Grace, though, had caught the look on his face. She knew she had made an enemy of him, and at first it had frightened her. Since then he had ignored her, but she could feel his stare burning holes in her back each time she went down to the pool.
Now she saw him look up as she walked down the steps into the water. His hooded eyes moved up and down her figure, locking themselves on the vee of her swim suit panties. He made a parody of licking his lips, then turned his back to her. A moment later he climbed out of the pool, leaned down to Judi and said something, then picked up his towel and waddled across the green toward his penthouse suite.
When he reached the edge of the grass, he was greeted boisterously by two men who had just walked through the portico. Both looked like criminals to Grace. One of them was obviously an ex-jockey, a little man with a sneaky, mean face. The other male was about medium height, pot-bellied, and smoked a long black cigar. He wore rings on three fingers of each hand. On a leash between them, a powerful looking German Shepherd dog sniffed once at Ricky Karl and then dismissed him as being not important.
Grace caught the dog's action and smiled knowingly, "That's just exactly how I feel about him, too, Pup."
Judi swam over to her. "Ricky heard about our office party at Bay Meadows Race Track on Thursday night. He offered to buy all of us a drink. Isn't that sweet of him?"
"He can keep his liquor," Grace answered.
The two girls floated quietly side by side in the water. Judi broke the silence. "What are you going to wear tomorrow night?"
"I really haven't thought about it." If the truth be known, she wasn't too eager to go to the track with the rest of the staff. The management was picking up the tab for admission and meals and drinks, but the entire affair seemed such a waste of time. Grace didn't intend to bet any of her hard-earned money. A more boring evening she couldn't imagine. But, as newly appointed Office Manager, she felt the obligation to attend.
Judi began chattering away about the various merits of the different dresses she had, their effects on men, how women reacted to them (usually jealously), and how much each of them had cost.
Grace listened with only about a quarter of her mind's attention. She day-dreamed, thinking of how nice it would be to suddenly inherit a lot of money from a previously unheard-of uncle or aunt… or win one of the soap company sweepstakes which would pay $50,000 cash or $400 each month for the rest of her life. She could imagine the happy look on Stan's face when he came home and discovered she had purchased a house and furnished it just the way they had always dreamed – with a nursery and a big formal dining room and an all-electric modern kitchen…