Douglas McCallister - Rich man, poor man

Once again Penny screamed and the sound was music to John's ears. He could feel his cock growing, burgeoning deep up inside his wife's quivering belly, could feel the tension mounting in his sperm-bloated balls

that smacked against her upturned buttocks. Oh God! He was near the end -near his final explosion that would send the ultimate joy shooting through him when at last he emptied his sperm deep up inside his wife's belly! And he knew that Penny, too -in spite of her pain, her resistance to his fucking he was inflicting on her -was about to cum. Her face was contorted with her lust, her eyes half closed, but filmed with her passion.

In a sudden involuntary movement, her legs jackknifed up tight., and she pressed her knees back against her breasts until the whole of her moist vaginal slit was offered up to her husband for his complete pleasure. She locked her ankles over his shoulders now, still squirming beneath his pounding body, his thrusting cock. And then she let out a long low wail, and he felt his own climax as his white-hot sperm shot the length of his rigid member to spew forth into the farthest depths of her cock-filled belly.

Her own orgasmic fluids seeped forth then, bathing his pumping cock in their warm moisture and the two rocked back and forth together, their minds blank, their bodies all but consumed with their ecstasy… then, it was over at last, their one act of togetherness. John withdrew his now deflating penis and rolled over to Penny's side, breathing heavily. He sighed, knowing that he had hurt his wife, and knowing that he would be ashamed of it later. But for the moment he was satisfied, as satisfied and contented as Penny was…

John Whitmore sat before the huge expanse of his modem desk and moved his silver fountain pen languidly across the smoothly polished surface. From one corner of the desk a photo of his wife Penny stared reprovingly at him from its large, solid silver frame. He glanced away, reluctant to meet her eyes, even from this reasonable facsimile of his wife. Oh, Christ! He'd been rotten to her the night before. Rotten! What a bastard he was!

Not that she hadn't asked for it, he thought, trying to assuage his conscience. Not that she hadn't asked for it! She had!

But had she? He shook his head, wondering. Was it really her fault? Really her fault that the two had nothing in common any more? He shook his head again. He didn't know; he just didn't know.

But he had known, back when he first met Penny, that there was a world of difference in their lifestyles. Their backgrounds were so wide apart that that alone would almost make a successful marriage impossible. But in those days he had found her ignorance part of her charm. And he had to admit that he'd been certain he could change her; had been certain that eventually she would accept his values and strive to attain them.

It was there, he knew now, that he had gone wrong. Even if it had been possible to change Penny, for the better, he still insisted, even if it had been, had he the right to try? No, he concluded at last, he hadn't. If he loved Penny, and he was still certain that he had, he should have accepted her as she was… but he'd not been willing to do that. He'd had to try reforming her, changing her, polishing her. He shrugged. Live and learn, he thought. Live and learn.

Again, John Whitmore picked up the silver pen and tapped the desk reflectively with it. He had learned nothing, he decided. And, as for living, how could he live without Penny? The answer to that was obvious. He couldn't.

On the other hand, he couldn't live with her. And so here he was, sitting behind his fancy polished desk from which he directed the destinies of hundreds, unable to control his own life.

His mind wandered back to those early days when he had first met Penny, to that first night she had gone with him to a hotel. He'd been a student then, living in one of the colleges at his university, spied upon, he had always thought, by the housemasters. Taking Penny back to his room had been out of the question. But there were plenty of small hotels around and they had gone to one of those.

John still remembered how he had quaked when they had registered as Mr. and Mrs. Lindley, how he had signed his name with a flourish, even so. He remembered the scornfully curved lip of the bellboy who took them to their room, his amused glance as he asked for their luggage. They had none, of course, and John invented some wild excuse to explain the lack, knowing all the time that no one on earth would believe him, but it didn't matter in the least. They reached the small drab room at last. He tipped the boy handsomely and sighed with relief when they at last were left alone.

As the door closed behind him, Penny's arms went up around John's neck and she pressed her voluptuous body tightly against his. John felt the excitement that it generated… oh, Christ! It was like being plugged into an electrical current, and he shivered almost in shock… and then mashed his lips against hers. Her tongue flicked out to taunt him, to press between his lips and swirl around his own, and then he kissed her back, his own tongue sliding deep into her mouth.

"Nervous?" Penny asked solicitously, and he wondered how many times she had done this before, how many other young men she had accompanied to dingy hotels in this part of town. Or had she gone with older men, business tycoons like his father, to the luxurious establishments in the center of the city? He didn't know and he quite honestly didn't care. Nothing mattered at the moment but the fact that the, two were together

and that in a moment he would fuck the beautiful chorus girl for the first time.

"Nervous?" Penny repeated, and this time John shook his head. Why should he be, he thought, unless his old man were to find out? But that would hardly be possible, and anyway, even if he did, it wouldn't be too terrible. He would make a scene, of course, shouting and threatening and blustering about, swearing, of course, that John would be cut off without a penny of his father's fortune. But, damn it all, the young student thought, it would be worth even that just to be with Penny for one night!

Penny didn't really believe him. She smiled, though, and suggested that John needed a drink. "Me too," she added.

"Yes, but…" The young man scarcely had the courage to call room service, and for the moment he didn't see any other possibility. But Penny had thought of that and, like a good scout, had come prepared. She opened her capacious. handbag and pulled out a silver flask, opened it and poured a drink for John into the bathroom tumbler.

The young college student sipped at it gratefully, then held the tumbler out to Penny and watched her as she finished off the drink. They shared another, and then, relaxed and happy, John watched the voluptuous girl he had brought up here as she undressed. She did it gracefully, unselfconsciously, without the slightest trace of lewdness. Her short, form-fitting dress came first, eased off her shoulders to slide down over her full wide hips and then to the floor.

John gasped as she stood before him in her little black bikini panties and her black brassiere. Oh God! It was the most exciting, the most sensual thing he'd ever seen, with Penny's pure white skin set off against the sheer black cloth of her underclothes! As she turned her back to him to pick up the dress from the floor, he felt his cock lurch and harden beneath his pants. Oh God! She was beautiful… beautiful! He stared open-mouthed at the full rounded spheres of her buttocks, then gasped as the sheer black nylon strip of her panties tightened between her firm full thighs, then slipped into the furrow between her quivering ass-cheeks, making him swallow hard with lust… and then, quickly and just as gracefully, she released the hooks of her bra at the center of her back and slipped the straps off her shoulders, then eased her panties down over her firm white hips and thighs.