Grant Roberts - The wayward wifes

“Look, Patty,” Renault added. “She’s really enjoying it, isn’t she?”

“Yes, yes she is,” Patty breathed as her eyes locked on yet another pose. Marcia was on a bed with her legs wide apart and a man between them, clearly Val Robbins, his cock sunk all the way her open vagina. The camera angle was able to pick up the thick member disappearing into the soft, hair-fringed folds of her cunt, with only a tiny portion of it showing wet and purplish. Marcia’s expression was one of depravity and ecstasy. Patty squirmed slightly, pressing her legs together to hold down the fire which was brewing deep in her loins.

“These are terrible, Rick,” she said hoarsely. “I’m sure Marcia never knew they were being taken, for she’d never consent to doing that in front of a camera.”

Renault took the pictures back and replaced them in the envelope. “True, she didn’t know. But the facts are they were taken, and I’ve been offered a considerable amount of money for them. Just think of the thousands of men; dirty, greasy old men masturbating in their fly-specked hotel rooms with a bottle of wine and these pictures. Your Marcia will be nationally famous, my dear!”

“But… what has that got to do with me?”

“These men have kindly decided to buy the pictures from me for the same amount I was offered. Each one is going to chip in a fourth, but in return, they each want you. Not singly, not over a period of time, but now, all at once, in an old fashioned gang-bang. I said you might do it… for your friend’s benefit.”

“You can’t be serious!” she flared. “You must be mad!”

“Well, if you really don’t want to, we won’t force you, but if you want to keep Marcia, poor, dumb Marcia, from such notoriety, then you’d best cooperate. Can you imagine what it would be like to have her husband get hold of this set? Say maybe from one of his buddies who happened to buy them?"

Patty’s blood boiled. She could have flung herself at Renault and scratched his eyes out, but then her thoughts went back to Marcia. She began to cool down a little as she considered the consequences of those pictures. Marcia would be ruined.

“You’re not exactly giving up anything, anyway, Patty,” Renault said. “After all, you’d probably get around to sleeping with each of these gentlemen sooner or later anyway.”

Patty moaned at his words, and tears of humiliation and sorrow began to roll down her cheeks. Renault’s words were all too true. She was little more than a prostitute lately, screwing any man who came along. She wasn’t worth saving, but Marcia was, and maybe this one act of evil might somehow result in good. She looked around at the clustered men, staring at their waiting nakedness and she was filled with overwhelming self-loathing.

She tried to speak, but words escaped her. Her tear-wet eyes again traveled over the assemblage, but no mercy was shown, and she realized that there was nothing she could do except submit: She was alone, and would probably be forced to let them fuck her even if she didn’t agree, and so silently she lowered herself to the soft earth arid arranged herself on her back, spread-eagled. She glanced up at the naked body of Rick Renault, who stood with his hand on his hips, his wrinkled penis erect and hovering menacingly, his hairy sac hanging like a water filled balloon at its base.

“All right,” she whimpered in a strange, defeated tone. “Do it to me. All of you, if that’s what you want!”

The men closed in, forming a tight circle above her, and she watched in wild-eyed agony as they bent over her to drink in the moonlit nakedness of her loveliness, their lust twisted faces unbelievable visages of desire. She could barely breathe with the air so filled with the pungency of their rigid genitals, and for a moment she thought she might faint from the odor, and hoped she would.

Renault started to kneel, his hands groping toward her breasts with a clawlike grab, but then Pete caught him and said, “Wait a minute, Rick.” His eyes were on Patty as he talked, beady with perversion and excitement. “You’ve had her before. We haven’t. Let me fuck her first.”

‘‘No, I…"

“Yes, Rick,” broke in Pete’s manager, Harold. “Let Fugazi go down on her first. I want to see her face when he does.”

“Yeah, let him have her,” chimed in Carter.

Renault grinned and stood up. “All right, big one. But leave some for the others, though.”

Patty froze in terror as the bald fighter dropped to his knees between her widespread thighs, his nose quivering and his lips licking at the feast of her sparsely fleeced loins. Then his head moved down between her spread thighs, and Patty moaned as she realized he was about to plunder her cunt in full view of everybody. Oh God, if only she had the marijuana maybe she could stand it, but not like this, not fully conscious, even she hadn’t sunk that low!

“Please… Pete… take me into the bushes. Don’t… do it here,” she pleaded up at him, tearfully.

Pete only chuckled crudely, and Harold egged him on by saying, “C’mon, boy. Can’t you see how bad she wants you? “Lick the little whore’s fucking honey-pot right now!”

A convulsive spasm jerked her body as his lips pressed against the naked plane of her open vagina. She cried out from his touch, but the sudden wet contact sent a chill racing the length of her spine, paralyzing her brain. His slobbering tongue lapped the pink, blood-pumped vulva, parting her pubic hair, snaking into the crack of her moist, protesting pussy.

A cheer went up from the spectators, and another shudder ran through Patty as he came in contact with her trembling clitoris. She felt his rough, knobby fingers clamp against her thighs and force them yet wider, and she looked down between her breasts at him, her eyes widened in terror at seeing him hunched on all fours like some ravaging beast. He came up for air and grinned lewdly at her, his mouth and cheeks one glistening area of wetness, and then he licked his lips and fell again on her defenseless crotch, devouring it as though it was a victim of a preying animal.

Patty tried to lie motionless, the grinning faces, the throbbing cocks around her all waiting their turn, gone from her vision as she blotted them out of her mind. But then Pete exposed her pink-tinged slit with his thumbs, bringing oohhs and aaghs and harsh, sucked-in breaths from the men and again she had to look, and again she saw him drop his head and bury the full length of his slippery tongue into the warm, throbbing walls of her pussy.

She ground her buttocks into the grass, whimpering wildly under his depraved assault. Then he nibbled the erect bud of her clitoris with his sharp teeth, drawing her tingling bud of eroticism into his mouth to suck on it and roll it around with his tongue. She cried out and with a horrified expression, she saw the nightmare of him rolling his head from side to side in her cunt, in time to the chants and clappings of the crowd who were clamoring for more.

It can’t be! It can’t be! she groaned over and over to herself in pagan humiliation, the moonlight streaming down to highlight her wretched predicament, to pinpoint the man who was flailing wildly into her cunt with his spearing tongue. Dear God! I have to fight this with all my might! I mustn’t succumb to myself, even though I must to them!

But as Pete’s sucking tongue snaked lizard-like into her straining cunt, burrowing like a jackrabbit in the soft, fleshy folds of her vagina, her betraying hips again for the second time tonight began to respond involuntarily, and a flickering fire of wanton emotion began to spark within her womb. Tiny wisps of forbidden pleasure began to purl down in her belly and her ripe breasts jiggled sensuously from the buffeting of her lower body. Fire was rapidly replacing revulsion… she had never felt so subjugated so debauched in all her life, even back there with three of them on her at once. And wasn’t this what she had hoped for when she came to the party? Demons danced wickedly along her skin, and her soft flesh quivered desperately to quell the searing, hot lashes which licked maddeningly at her naked body. And her desperate, subconscious cries of help to the Almighty went unheeded, the fire roaring out of control. She saw in blurred vision the head of Rick Renault nod in triumph at her lewd surrender, felt her fingers hook like talons around the gleaming skull of Fugazi, and felt a low, soul searing moan rasping from her dry throat.