A warning voice in Kim’s mind tried to penetrate the lethargic state Goren’s words had evoked, tried to tell her that something was going to happen if she didn’t put an end to it right now. And yet, somehow, his hand on her breast didn’t seem wrong to her, not really, it felt so good, like the hand of her father stroking her sweating body when she had been down with a high fever as a child, telling her everything to him and it would be all right. And Jack’s voice, speaking against her hair, saying now: ‘We have to do something, baby, we owe it to ourselves. Turnabout is fair play, sweetheart, and it can be good that way, very good you want to hurt him, don’t you? You want to hurt him for what he’s done, don’t you? I want to hurt Lynn for what she’s done, she deserves to be hurt and Barry deserves to be hurt, honey…
Turnabout is fair play… Barry deserves to be hurt… The words spun and tumbled in Kim’s confused mind as Jack Goren stroked her breast and held her close to him. Yes, he was right. Barry did deserve to be hurt, and the only way to hurt him was with her body But did she dare do what she knew this situation would lead to if she continued to remain passive? Did she dare to be, herself, as unfaithful as Barry had been? Well, why not? Why not, indeed? Barry had been the one to despoil the sacrosanct vows of marriage, hadn’t he? He had performed those lewd, vile acts with Lynn Goren, hadn’t he? Yes, damn it, she dared to do it, all right; she was just hurt enough, just angry enough, just drunk enough, and… yea, just aroused enough… that she would do it…
Goren’s hand had dipped under her sweater now, was trailing hot tremulous paths along the bare skin of her flat stomach, moving higher to touch the tightly encased orbs of her breasts, cupping first one and then the other. Kim’s hips began to squirm against the softness of the cushions, and she turned her body slightly more toward him, pressing herself to him. And then her head lifted, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her lips parting wetly; it was as if she were a puppet, and the puppeteer had activated the string controlling her head, raising it up for the innocent kiss of a boy puppet except that Jack Goren was not a puppet and not a boy and the kiss would surely not be innocent- It wasn’t.
He ground his lips onto hers, completely engulfing her mouth with his warm, moist ones, flicking his tongue forward immediately to slip past her teeth and into her mouth, to meet and entwine with hers. Pinwheels of light flashed in back of Kim’s eyes at the sheer physical impact of his kiss, and her hand lifted from his shirt front to encircle his neck, press his head tightly, molding their mouths together like molten metals fusing into one. His hand was pushing her bra up now, insinuating itself beneath, touching the hot flesh of her naked breast now, touching the hard bud of her nipple, pinching it painfully between his thumb and forefinger. His tongue sawed mercilessly in and out of her mouth, in the attitude of copulation, and she made tiny, excited mewling sounds of pleasure deep in her throat.
And then Goren’s hand left her breast, moved down along her stomach, seeming to sear her skin there, and then around to the waistband of her stretch pants.
Quickly, then, deftly and without hesitation, he unbuttoned the single button at the side, located the zipper and drew it down; his fingers went to the band of her panties, swiftly moved inside, pushing the flimsy material down, his fingertips touching the hot flesh of her abdomen and then the first curling strands of her soft, downy fleece. But he didn’t pause there; he let his hand slide still lower, his middle finger extended, until the digit came in sudden contact with the warm, damp furrow of her cunt.
Kim’s body jackknifed against him with the electric contact of his touch on her naked, defenseless crotch; her whole being commenced to oscillate violently and she began to moan in wild, staccato cadence. From somewhere far, far back in her mind, the warning voice began to speak again: No, this is wrong, this is all wrong, I’m not some whore to be used, I’m not merely a receptacle for a strange man’s semen I still love Barry, no matter what he’s done I still love him… no, no, no this is all wrong stop it, stop it now, before it’s too late … you have to stop, it, stop it, stop it!
But she didn’t stop it. She couldn’t stop it. She was incapable of pulling away from him, she liked his touch on her genitals, yes she liked it! She liked his tongue in her mouth, liked his touch, oh God she couldn’t stop It now at all, it was too late, too late…
Goren dipped his middle finger into the wet, trembling passage of Kim’s burning cunt, teasing the hardened button of her clitoris, playing with it, reveling in the feel of her nubile pussy and the vibrating arousal of her firm young body.
Christ, he thought, she really turns on, just like I knew she would. She wants cock all right, she’s fired up for cock, and when a woman gets that way nothing else matters; nothing else at all.
“Baby,” he whispered in his soft voice, taking his mouth from hers briefly, “baby, I want you, I want to fuck you, I need to Fuck you, baby…”
She stiffened momentarily at his use of the obscene word, but he knew that his voice, his finger playing maddeningly with her vaginal opening, would overcome her hesitations… she was too far gone now for anything else to happen.
And then, in a voice that was strange, detached, she breathed out her answer to him; breathed out words which caused Goren’s prick to throb intensely in his pants and dribble excited seminal emissions from its swollen glands, words which were at once distinctly alien and impossibly exciting on her lips and in her ears, words brought about by many things not the least of which was a strange awakening of sexual desire wrought intrinsically by her own husband’s perverted actions of the afternoon.
She said, “Oh yes, Jack darling darling, and I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me just as much as you need it. Fuck me, Jack, fuck me fuck me fuck me…”
Barry lay next to Lynn Goren on the large towel, spent, staring up at the late after noon sky paling into the first shadows of evening. Now that the wild, abandoned sexual games had ended-or at least, had ended until the impossibly ardent, insatiable Lynn Goren had recuperated his now-flaccid prick for another round-Barry was thinking once again of Kim. He was thinking of how much he loved her in spite of her sexual shortcomings, in spite of the fact that she was not now and could never be a match for a nymphomaniac like Lynn; and the thoughts brought the first lingering vestiges of shame to his mind, stirrings of guilt which would amplify later, he knew, and consume him with self-loathing and self-disgust at his inability to control his carnal instincts.
God, he thought, how can I ever face Kim again? How can I look her in the eye?
She’ll be able to tell of course, she’ll take one look at me and she’ll know what I’ve done here today… oh Kim, dear sweet unsuspecting Kim, what could have come over me? I love you, I don’t want to hurt you… but I’m no good at lying, and you’ll know that I’ve been making love to another woman, you’ll surely know, and when you do I won’t blame you if you leave me, God knows you’ve got the grounds and the right…
“A penny for your thoughts, lover,” Lynn said beside him, rolling over onto her stomach and looking into his face as she propped herself up on her elbows.
“Sure,” Barry answered bitterly. He didn’t meet her eyes.
“Oh,” Lynn said softly. “You’re thinking about your wife.”
“Yes, I’m thinking about my wife.”
“And you’re feeling guilty about all that we’ve done here today, aren’t you?
Guilty because your dear sweet innocent Kim would be absolutely horrified if she knew. Am I right?”
Barry felt color blotch his cheeks, and he turned his eyes to her angrily; who did this bitch think she was, taunting him about Kim? “What difference does it make to you if I am thinking about her?” he demanded.