John Wilson - The timid bride

"Ah, oh, yes," she said, eyeing the vibrator that sat wickedly on the end of the bed. "It's, ah, very nice."

"I thought that would help," he said, his voice suggesting that he understood she'd tried it to no avail. "Well, I guess I'll see you tonight."

Before she could say another word, the phone went dead. She hung up her end of the line and looked around the room. On the floor, open to the various photos demonstrating the positions she thought Larry would like, were the magazines… She wondered if he would approve of such things really, of masturbation and self-arousal, of sucking and licking the way it was shown in those magazines. Or if maybe he'd just bought them to tantalize and tease her. Did people really do such things? In real life? Were there real people who actually touched genitals with tongues, who actually squirmed and became lewdly rapturous the way the photos showed them?

She quickly gathered up the magazines, the vibrator, the jar of lubricant, and told herself as she stuffed it all in the shoe box that under no conditions would she herself ever submit to such lewd treatment. She kicked the box under the bed and stood with her arms folded under her voluptuous naked breasts, shaking her head.

"Never, never… Not even under force…" she murmured. "I just wouldn't give way to such awful sexual chores! Never!"

Larry Hanger was fifty-two years old three weeks before he said, for the third time in his life, the words which, according to church and state, united him eternally with young Cindy Keller, now Mrs. Hanger. And now, only two months later, as he collected a few papers from his desk and slipped them neatly into his brief case, he wondered if he hadn't been just a little hasty in making a decision to marry a girl who he'd only known for three weeks!

There was no denying that she was cute, that she had long legs, large breasts and nice sized nipples, and that her cunt was as tight as a drum! What more could a man ask for?

But there was something about the new Mrs. Hanger that just didn't jive with Larry Hanger's desires… with his lusty interests! After all, wasn't a man supposed to be able to enjoy himself in every way possible with a new bride?! It had been that way with Susan before Cindy, and with Carol before Susan! Why shouldn't he be able to partake of this lady's physical gifts as much as he wanted, too?

He closed up his brief-case and looked in the glass behind his desk at his reflection. He might have been fifty-two, but he looked a heck of a lot younger. He straightened his tie, combed back with his palms the long strands of his peppered black-and-grey hair, and smiled at himself. He was a handsome rake-there was no denying it! And that young Cindy, sooner or later she'd come 'round. Or else. Like the others. Off and away! It was that simple!

Those tools would help her. If not, it was over. Who knows? Maybe with a girl like that, once she gets started it's no stopping her. The dildo and the magazines will have to do the job. I haven't got time to waste…!

He turned the next page of his desk calendar and started for the door. Tomorrow would be a new day. Tonight, as planned, he would go bar hopping with Ken Atwell. He looked back around the office, a final, check just to be sure he had everything. There's no sense sitting at home on a night like this… What the hell…! I've been through this before… She thinks she's gonna break ME down… get ME to slow up in what I want! NO WAY. She's gonna start puttin' out… or else… He blinked and realized that he was standing lost in thought at the office door. Smiling to himself, he pictured once more his new wife's young nubile thighs, the healthy patch of pubic hair that grew around her splendid pinkish pussy lips, arid he murmured to himself, "Oh, sure, I'll get her to come around… She's just got to! Meanwhile…" He flicked the lights off and exited the office.

In the anti-room, his secretary, Lisa Davis, was just then sliding her hand into her glove. "Oh, Mr. Hanger, are you leaving now, too?"

"Yes, Lisa," said Larry Hanger, his eyes touring the secretary's voluptuous body. She's got breasts like cannons… I'd give a whole lot to suck those breasts… Nipples like teats for babies… big ones… just looking is enough to tell! I should have hired a younger broad, someone less tempting… less distracting, anyhow…

"Yes, yes, I'm afraid so, Miss Davis, I'm going to have to call it a day. Unless you'd like to take a little dick-tation? Ha, ha, ha. Get it? Dick-tation?"

"Mr. Hanger!" she hissed at him, her eyes widening and her face filling with a hot red blush. "You're too much, sir!"

"Never mind that, honey," he said, regaining his composure. "I just get carried away every now and then. Turn out the lights before you leave. Make sure the service knows we're out. Thanks for getting that letter out on time, too. The Mag Co people will be especially happy about that." He smiled and turned, and with a quick little walk, one that befitted his stature and sense of position-he was a very successful man in his company-he exited the office.

Down two floors, in the East Wing of the building, Larry Hanger waited impatiently outside Ken Atwell's office. Wonder if that secretary of mine would ever go down on me… For an instant he saw her on her knees, her legs spread, and, of course, she was completely naked. He fantasized her hands rising slowly, like heating bread, her long smooth white fingers enveloping his hardening prick… her long sensitive hot fingers wrapping around his cock… tenderly squeezing until the bulging tip of his blood-engorged cock head squashed in between her thick moist wet lips… into her long deep throat!

"Mmmm," he hummed out loud, and Atwell's secretary looked up, saying softly, "Did you say something, Mr. Hanger?"

"Oh, ah, no, certainly not," he said, realizing that for a moment he'd been murmuring aloud. "I was, ah, just, ah… clearing my throat!"

The door behind her burst open and Ken Atwell stepped forward, his young frame large and muscled under a three-piece pin-striped suit. His dark, curly hair looked like Samson's locks, and his broad shoulders and large eyes combined to make his appearance formidable. "Look," he told his secretary, "get these things done for Thursday, and the rest can wait until next week." He looked up. "Hiya, Larry! Ready?"

"Yes, sir," said Larry Hanger. "Take your time though. I've told the wifey-poo that I'd be late."

"Good, good. I'm ready. Let's get goin'."

They bid his secretary good afternoon, and a few moments later they were speeding merrily on their way to a bar called The Half Moon. It was Ken Atwell who brought up the topic that was on both their minds. "You ever fool around much?" he asked seriously.

"Oh, you know me," said Larry, trying to keep from snickering. "I wouldn't fool around on a wife of mine, unless, of course, the girl happened to have some very special attributes."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know… two legs? two arms? That kind of thing. She'd have to be very special, as I say."

Atwell chuckled. "I feel the same way."

Five minutes later they entrusted the car to the parking attendant and entered

one of Los Angeles ' best live band bars. After two drinks and some small talk, they both looked at each other and agreed quickly, "Let's get out of here? Some place where they've got what we're looking for?"

And ten minutes after that they pulled up alongside a huge billboard that boasted in iridescent pink letters:

LIVE NUDE GIRLS

TOPLESS

BOTTOMLESS

"This is more like it," said Larry Hanger. "Music is good, but it can't beat the real thing, eh?"

"Right you are," said Ken Atwell. "Let's go in."

A moment later they were sitting at the back of a more or less empty black painted room in a booth. They had a good view of the bar where the girls would appear when they danced. Suddenly, as if it was meant to be, the curtains parted at the back of the bar and a record went on playing an old melancholy blues number. A big-breasted blonde wearing no brassiere and little silver pasties over her rather large, swollen brown nipples, came shimmying toward the table where Larry and Ken sat. "Here we go," said Ken Atwell.