Sid was too selfish, too caught up in his teaching and studies to take time and find out what his wife needed. Tears flowed down her face and all the misery of her unhappy existence unflowed from its pentup hiding place.
A memory came flickering back… a thought she tried to banish forever from her mind. An image of herself in Sid's apartment, under the surging poundings of her boy friend's penis! Wildly shaking her head, she tried to blot out the memory of her own premarital surrender, but her lewd words, screamed at the height of depraved passion, seemed to echo throughout the room.
"Fuck me… fuck me harder…"
She clasped her hands over her ears to shut out the lascivious memory. Where had she learned those words? She never used them, before that time or since, and felt a pang of distaste whenever she heard her husband use them.
Sanity returned to her troubled mind, and she lay back again, the tears drying on her cheeks. She felt cold and began to scoop up the soap bubbles. Idly, she smoothed them over her breasts, delighting in the way the frothy lather coated her creamy orbs. As she covered them with bubbles, she noticed how the nipples, a deep blush pink, stretched and awoke and the crinkled brown skin around them began to contract and squirm. She continued to massage them, enjoying the relaxing sensation, until the reddening buds jutted out boldly from the soap-covered mounds. A shiver raced through her and she sank further back in the suds. She began to soap herself, lifting one graceful leg and then the other, lathering it right up to her thigh. A tingle erupted deep in the pit of her stomach as her hand grazed the wet clinging curls of her pink triangle. She rested her palm momentarily on the glistening mound and a forbidden tingle shot through her. She felt her nipples stiffen again and involuntarily, her hand flew up the hungry orbs. The tingle in her stomach had grown to a jabbing fire and horror crept over her as she realized she was becoming sexually aroused.
But, almost of its own volition, her hand dropped lower and began to search gently in the swelling folds of her pulsating vagina. Her ringer brushed against the tiny erogenous knob of her clitoris and she gasped at the electrical shock of the unexpected contact. A twinge of guilt prodded at her conscience… memories of the childhood warning instilled in her that to touch oneself there was evil, dirty… but the incredible hunger, borne of years of frustration would brook no sidestepping, and she began to trace the hot, throbbing lips of her vagina, swollen to fleshiness, with her ringers. Her fingertips glided over the slippery flesh of her inner folds, and slid toward the clasping, viscous opening. Her breathing was ragged and a series of sensual visions tumbled about in her head and she felt swept along in the increasing erotic frenzy that she was conjuring up in her mind. She raised up her knees to afford her probing fingers greater access to her burning vagina and she began to thrust her finger into the moistness of her vaginal orifice. Her loins were hot, and her head was spinning with the strength of her overwhelming need. With a savage mewl, she sunk her finger into the inflamed opening. The warm fleshy walls closed in ravenously over her finger and a gnawing hunger told her that one finger wasn't enough.
Desperate now, she plunged two more of her fingers into the hot, moist opening and began to frantically swirl them around in her cavernous depths. Her other hand began to knead at her breasts and her nails dug deeply into the doughy fleshiness, trying to rout out the overwhelming fire that was raging in them. She was moaning incessantly now and her hips were jerking and twisting in time to the incessant probing of her fingers. The lewd rhythm of her undulance gained momentum until her whole lust-crazed body was thrashing wildly in the water, whipping up a new froth of bubbles and lashing the water out over the sides of the tub. The back of her head was totally submerged, and only her face was above water. Her hips rose up in paroxysm after paroxysm of delight and every muscle in her body was tensed, waiting for the final release.
Then Sybil's lithe, young body was convulsed with a gigantic spasm which seized her trembling loins and held them teetering dangerously over the edge before sending her shattering into the water, her luscious hips, flailing spasmodically like a fish on a hook as wave after wave of hot, screaming tremors raced throughout her entire body, crashing against the deep secret inner walls of her womb like the Pacific surf. For interminable seconds she was unable to breathe and her heart seemed to stop in the wake of her shattering climax, until finally she sank back, exhausted and satiated.
When the momentary pleasure of orgasm had passed, a feeling of mortification engulfed her. Fresh tears streamed down her face and rising up from the tub, now a thing of horror to her, her legs, weak from the daring surge of her passion, gave way and she collapsed on the carpeted bathroom floor, her body racked with guilty heartfelt sobs.
Then a sixth sense edged its way in as she lay face down on the blue fuzzy bath mat. Something was terrible wrong, and intuitively she knew it had something to do with Sid.
CHAPTER TWO
Sid's digital wristwatch flashed 9:04 when he pulled up outside the Dunlaps' sprawling Beverly Hills mansion, replete with a kidney-shaped swimming pool, tennis courts shaded with palm trees, and a guest house.
Today he would meet the girls, his two new students to whom he would teach French for two months before they left for Paris where they were enrolled in a private school for girls.
Unexpectedly, the door opened.
"Hi there!"
Sid Carter whirled around at the sound of the throaty voice, and gasped as she saw the beautiful girl standing not more than a foot from his startled face. At first glance, she appeared to be about fourteen, but as his eyes traced over the molded firmness of her breasts, pushing against the soft blue silk of her French blouse, Sid judged that she had to be closer to sixteen. Her long blue-black hair swept around her golden-tanned face splattered with a tease of freckles across her high cheek bones, one hip stuck out coltishly. She wore tight shorts, which revealed the enticing line of her upper thigh.
"Hello," he gulped, unable to take his eyes off her slim hips and perfectly shaped thighs.
"You must be Sid, our tutor?" she said rhetorically, extending her hand with cosmopolitan grace. "I'm June."
Sid clasped her well manicured hand in his, and was amazed at the coolness. It felt like she was wearing kid gloves, it was so soft.
"Won't you come in?"
He timidly followed June inside, feeling awkward and out of place as he stepped into the magnificent hallway of the sumptuously furnished house. June led him into the study, a room whose walls were lined with bookshelves, all filled in hard cover elegance. In the comer a globe sat in its walnut frame adjacent to the mahogany desk behind which a black leather chair sat emptily swiveled to one side. One whole wall was devoted to a geological map of Europe, and next to it, a window overlooked the swimming pool not more than a jump away. He gazed with interest at the map, then his eyes drifted to the collection of atlases on the bottom shelf near the desk. He was rather surprised at the wealth of knowledge and experience collected in that one room, so unlike the rest of the modern house… and so unlike garish Beverly Hills.
Instinctively, Sid felt that his tutoring job would change the direction of his career. Sure, teaching at the "Free School" had its rewards, meager as they were, and helping a ghetto child learn a new concept was exciting, but damn it! It was time he started getting some decent tutoring jobs… working for people with money, people who had contacts. He wouldn't mind having a classroom filled with Junes!