Grant Roberts - The reluctant couple

And in that moment, the pain and the terror and the humiliation began to leave Diane's body and mind, to be replaced with something else, something far more base: sexual arousal. Her hips began to grind backward as her anal passage grew accustomed to the turgid pole imbedded there, and she was suddenly, wonderfully, reveling in the lewd sodomizing of her asshole. Her head was flailing from side to side, her lips wildly sucking on Cord's prick as her jerking head bent it maddeningly from side to side. Oh God, she thought, Oh God, I do like it, Marc was right, I do like it, I like that ugly man's cock in my asshole, I like Marc's prick in my mouth, oh God I never dreamed anything this perverted could feel so wonderful and good…

Then she was buffeting back against Blake's driving cock like a rutting animal, as she felt the first tentative waves of her climax seize hold of her. Her lips swirled faster and faster and faster up and down, around and around, the near-exploding hardness of Cord's prick. She was mewling in total pleasure, letting her own cum build in direct cadence with Cord's and with Blake's, knowing it wouldn't be long now, wouldn't be long…

Blake gave a sudden, high-pitched squeal and his pummeling shaft drove forward even harder, working demon-like with its long, brutal strokes into her rectum. "I'm… I'm going to… to ccccuuuuuuummmmmmmm!" he yelped.

"Oh Jesus… yes, mee… mee too!" Cord cried out, his body twisting and thrashing beneath Diane's madly sucking lips.

Oh God, and so… so am I! Diane's brain screamed. Oooooohhhhhh, yesssssss, I'm… cumming too… cumminnnnnnnnggggggggggg, too. Aaaaaaaggghhhhh!

She felt as if Blake's cock were rammed all the way through her body up to her throat as he jerked convulsively behind her. A great, burning surge of hot, swirling semen flooded deep, deep into her rectum as he continued to howl in orgiastic rapture. The hot liquid filled her belly, filled her quivering insides… and then there was more of the torrential fluid spasming up from the opening in Cord's cock, pouring into her throat, filling her mouth, almost choking her as he shot stream after stream of warm, hot seed from deep in his churning balls…

Diane's own climax happened then, a wild, intense release that exploded her juices simultaneously with the eruptions of Cord and Blake, and she felt their semen and her fluid rushing to commingle in her stomach — flowing down from her mouth and down from her anus, and up from her seething cunt, to become one together in the pit of her belly. In that moment, she went a little insane with rapture and she knew nothing but bliss incomparable for long mindless, soulless minutes as two cocks drained in two of her bodily orifices and flowing lubrication dripped from a third.

Later, much later, after Cord and Blake had bid her good-bye, Diane lay nude and unmoving on the bed. She felt warmly lethargic, completely fulfilled — and yes, without shame of any kind. What was the use of self-deception? It served no purpose, did it? She had truly, undeniably reveled in the lewd, salacious rape of her virginal rectum by the fat, repulsive Ed Blake while she had milked Marc Cord's hot, throbbing prick with her mouth. The perverted seance trois she had participated in had excited her into an orgasm of her own unequalled in total abandonment. God, it had been so good, so wonderful! And she wanted it to happen again, and again, and again.

Gone now, completely gone, were all her inhibitions, her prudish moral outlooks. She had become a woman of the flesh, living for physical gratification and no more, for nothing else was important except the beauteous, satiated feelings which now flowed through her like warm claret. She knew what her own personal Nirvana was, and she was there at that very moment…

Languorously, Diane stretched her arms over her head. She found herself thinking about Marc's invitation to his and Cindy's party the following evening, and his rather obvious hints as to just what type of party it would be. Yes, she was almost certain what would happen at the Cord's tomorrow night: wife-swapping at its ultimate, The Big Time, not just her and Roger and Marc and Cindy, but other couples as well; who knew how many? Where partners were freely exchanged, and every conceivable sort of abnormal sexual deviation was practiced. There was no doubt in her mind that this was what lay in store for her, and for Roger, if they decided to accept Marc Cord's invitation. And she knew, after what had just happened between her and Marc Cord and the stranger Ed Blake, that she was looking forward to whatever lewd perversions tomorrow night would bring. Looking forward to them eagerly, like a child looks forward to Christmas.

Unless she was very badly mistaken, she thought that Roger would be looking forward to them, too, for he surely knew just as she did what type of party it would be.

When Roger came home later that day, and they talked about it, she discovered that she was right on both counts.

Roger and Diane arrived at the Cords' Peacock Gap home at a few minutes past nine Saturday night.

Diane wore only a simple, clinging shift, without bra and panties, and her husband wore as little as possible. The air in the car on the ride over was charged with electric anticipation of what the evening was to bring. They hadn't spoken much, had simply sat with their thighs touching and hands clasping as Roger drove.

Marc opened the door to their ring, and Diane's eyes widened when she saw that he was completely nude. His fleshy shaft was rigid, throbbing slightly as it stood out from his abdomen like a giant steel bar. She looked at it, fascinated as always by its immensity; she moistened her lips. Cord had a martini in one hand, and from the crooked leer on his face Diane knew that he had been drinking for some time.

"C'mon in, kids!" he enthused, pulling the door open and waving them in. "Party's going good, now. Damned good, s'matter of fact."

They followed him inside. It was dark in the large living room, with only indirect ceiling lights to illuminate the dimness. Diane saw that there were a lot of ornate Chinese lanterns in a variety of colors decorating the ceiling. There were three couples in the room, all nude. Two of the couples were dancing to soft music from some hidden stereo, and both men had stiffened cocks. On the couch, another man was lying with his lips pressed between the widespread thighs of a red-haired girl; she was massaging his prick rhythmically as he licked the softness of her cunt.

Diane felt aroused sensations churn through her at the lewd sight, and then Cord grabbed her and pulled her up tight against his erect cock, rubbing it along her belly through the thin material of her shift. She shuddered, beginning to move her own pelvis in time to his rotations.

"Some party, eh, kitten?" he whispered in her ear. "But you already guessed what it'd be, didn't you?"

"Yes, Marc, I guessed."

He laughed. "Well, c'mon, get with it. Get outta those clothes and let it all hang out!"

He released her, and Diane — with no trace of guilt or shame now — quickly took off the shift to expose her own trembling nakedness. She saw that Roger did the same, tossing his clothes along with hers onto a large pile of garments by the door. Cord drank in Diane's beauty with his eyes, licked his lips, and then waved Roger and her out onto the sun porch.

Cindy was making drinks at the bar, and she squealed when she saw Roger and rushed toward him, her naked breasts bobbing wildly. She kissed him hotly and took his hand and pressed it down to her moist cunt, taking his middle finger and insinuating it into her pulsating slit. "Glad you came, honey," she breathed heavily in a drunken drawl.

Cord fixed Roger and Diane a drink. In the doorway, he pointed to one of the dancing couples — a tall, gray-haired man and a tiny, brunette with huge, swaying breasts — and said, "That's Randall Anderson and his wife, Shirley. He's a bigwig with a bank in San Francisco." Then he indicated the second couple, a medium-sized man with a straggly black beard and a lithe blonde girl with a huge bushy pubic triangle, as a prominent San Rafael physician, Doctor Ron Hilton and Isabel Ziniwall. The red-haired girl who was having her cunt licked on the couch turned out to be Jolene Hilton, the doctor's wife; the man was Reg Wilcox, a local real estate agent. There was one other couple present: Isabel Ziniwall's husband, Norman, who was a copywriter for a San Francisco advertising agency, and Wilcox's wife, Patti, a pert black-haired woman with curvaceously slim legs. They were lying near the pool, caressing one another, and Ziniwall's lips were locked over the turgid nipple of her right breast while her hand stroked his long, thin cock and toyed with his swelling balls.