Stanley Redman - Mark_s wandering wife vol. 1

"Oh, Phillip… Darling… no, no… we mustn't," she breathed hotly down into his face kissing and sucking at her breast, while her arms embraced his head tightly to her.

But it was as if she hadn't spoken and his hands continued to fondle and graze her tingling flesh, exploring the full length of her soft, smooth body, roving over her flat white belly and downward to the nylon concealed suppleness of her pubic mound. He touched her there gently, his strong sensitive fingers stroking and fondling, until she was aware that he had slipped his middle finger inside the leg band of her white nylon panties and into the moist, virginal slit of her vagina. Again, she had gasped aloud as never-before electric-like sensations surged through her, causing her to writhe feverishly beneath his hand.

"Darling… Darling… we mustn't… No… No… not now," she pleaded raspily, his hot breath against the soft flesh of her breasts coming in ever increasing gasps. "Oh… please, Darling…" Then, she heard the metallic whisper of his zipper… and suddenly felt the hard, hot fleshy bluntness pressing against her upper thigh… My God! It was his penis! Automatically, her body recoiled at its alien touch, even as his finger probed deeper between her legs into the warm wetness of her vagina, causing greater intoxicating waves of inner excitement to ripple through her, nearly disarming her completely. She lay as if mesmerized, physically entranced by the pleasurable sensations soaring about wildly within her… and then he had taken her hand and placed it on his hardened penis, his own hand covering hers and enclosing her fingers around it.

She had compulsively squeezed tight, feeling its hot rigidness give slightly beneath the pressure and heard and felt him gasp excitedly against her breast, the sounds of her own breathing filling the room as she realized the enormity of its size. Momentarily, it frightened her. She had never dreamed they were so big… so long… so thick… her fingers would hardly go around it…! And, suddenly she realized that she was stroking it… massaging the thick outer layer of skin back and forth to the same rhythm he had established with his finger deep inside her moist, young vagina.

Oh God… there was no stopping him now! She had let it go, even encouraged it beyond the point of no return. Her whole body vibrated passionately, hungrily, in the rapture of the moment, as did his pressed tightly against her and in her hand. She squirmed responsively beneath his finger sinking ever deeper into her cunt so wet from the juices he had stimulated there. She felt it seeping from her vaginal lips, moistening her entire crotch even to the cleft between her round full buttocks; and then, even through her excitement, it struck her that he would destroy her still intact hyman the way he was stretching her virginal channel, but she didn't care… didn't care… didn't, didn't care…!

His prick jerked in her hand at every stroke, and as he increased his maddening pleasure-inciting thrusts up into her, so did she quicken and lengthen the pumping of her tiny hand clutching tightly at his throbbing, fleshy, shaft, feeling it grow and grow into unbelievable male hardness.

Perhaps it was his sudden rolling on top of her between her legs that helped restore her reasoning, or maybe it was simply the reaction of a strong religious upbringing thrusting its way through the delirium of forbidden pleasure clouding her brain, whichever, she found herself fighting him, clamping her long naked legs tightly together, her thighs clasping his stiff, throbbing cock between them, as he struggled savagely on top of her to get the hardened tip of his prick into the moist opening of her excited and dilated vagina.

"Oh God, no, Phillip, we can't," she hissed up at him, her teeth clenched as she squirmed and struggled with every ounce of resistance she could muster, clenching his rock-hard cock tightly as it strained inside her panty leg, its nozzle splaying the lips of her throbbing cunt, inching even forward from the weight and force of his near insane attempt to penetrate her. "No! No, Darling…!" she half cried, and as she squeezed and writhed furiously she felt it lurch within her clutching fingers and heard his uncontrollable gasp of frustrated ecstasy.

He groaned and grunted as she felt the thick, hot stream of his sperm shoot from its jerking head, saturating her still tingling vulva, the palpitating open lips of her vagina and the surrounding golden pubic hair, until she was drenched with the warm, viscous liquid, even to the inner sides of her soft white thighs, dribbling wetly down between her legs to moisten the davenport beneath her lust dampened buttocks.

She had lain perfectly still and held him tight all through it, feeling his body convulse on top of her while his penis pumped spasmodically in her grasp, heard him emit his final groan of release as he seemed to collapse over her, his shaft rapidly growing limp in her hand, and it was then that she sensed an indescribable sensation of being cheated; yet, she said nothing, only held him, running her hand through his hair while he began to whisper apologies in a choked, almost shamed voice.

Dianne could hardly remember now what Phillip had said, or how she had coped with it. They had gotten up, straightened their clothing and avoided looking at one another, saying little more. At the door, he had gazed at her for a long moment, his expression troubled, ashamed… kissed her quickly and left. She hadn't seen him again.

To say the least, he'd left her in a state of mental and physical disconcertion. She'd barely slept a wink all night. He hadn't been man enough to take her, and that was truly what she had wanted; yet, simultaneously she was aware that had he raped her she would've hated him for all time. She'd been terribly upset and confused; Mark Coleman couldn't have picked a more strategic moment to approach her.

The following afternoon he'd burst from his office a little before five, studied her for a passing of seconds, then, with a seemingly handsome impulsive smile, said: "Dianne… I want to ask you a question… a rather important question…"

Her mouth had fallen open slightly; he'd never called her Dianne… always, Miss Lovell.

"Well?" he pressed.

"Yes… of course, Mr. Coleman," she'd managed after a moment. "What is it?"

"Over dinner this evening, eh?" He continued to smile.

"Dinner…? This evening? Well… I…"

"Fine. I'll pick you up around seven." He'd spun away, then paused again before his door to turn back. "Don't forget to leave me your address, eh?"

"No-No… that is, yes, of course… I'll remember…"

God, he had simply overwhelmed her, Dianne realized as she stepped from the shower to towel herself… charmed her at a time when her defenses were at lowest ebb. The candlelight, the champagne, his handsome smile and gallant air… my God, she'd have gone to the ends of the earth with him that night.

"Yes… oh yes!" she'd answered with the same spontaneity he'd used in proposing the question. "I will marry you, Mark! I will…!"

And she had, that very night! Insanity! Wild, exciting, insanity!

She remembered how unbelievably happy she had been clinging tightly to him as they flew from Los Angeles to Reno… and the way both of them had weaved a little tipsily from the champagne while they held to one another before the Justice of the Peace… and then had followed the sudden horror of the bridal suite, shocking her back to the depths of reality, and beyond…

He'd started to drink heavily the moment they were alone, tipping the bottle up to his lips and angry with her because she wouldn't do the same.

"Please, Darling… don't drink anymore?" she'd tried, forcing a little smile, the first twinges of apprehension beginning to stir inside her. She'd crossed to where he stood near the dresser, the half-empty champagne bottle in his hand, and slipped her arms around his neck. "We… we don't want anything to spoil this night… do we, Darling?"