Ron Taylor - Wife in the middle

Caron would strip Lou when the divorce settlement was finalized. She'd take his money and his property and everything except the clothes on his back. If they were lucky, and drew a woman judge for the case, Caron might also be granted the right to castrate her ex-husband in open court. She was entitled to all that, and more. But if it was me, Sheila thought, if it was me, I'd take nothing. Nothing but Melissa. That would hurt him where it really counted, in his pride, in his Goddamn balls. And what would it do for me? It would light up my life, oh, God, it would light up my life, brighter than that fire on the beach, brighter, than the sunshine at noon. Even if I knew I'd get my heart broken one more time. Even if I knew the pain would kill me, Sheila thought, I would take that girl and I would teach her to love, to be loved, I would take her, I would take her, I would take her.

Lou was stripping himself, with help from Melissa. She pulled the shirt over his head and shoulders, and then he reached down to undo his pants. She fell onto her belly on the sand before him, jerking at his jeans. His cock bounced out and smacked her in the face. The fire's glow made his cock look red as the devil's ass.

Sheila's heart recoiled at the sight. God, it was so big and gross! Ugly! All cocks were ugly, but this one was uglier than any other cock because it belonged to an ugly, vicious man. How could Caron have allowed him to use that ghastly thing on her, even if she had been married to him? How could she have let Lou degrade her with that tool, let him fuck her, let him… oh, God…

Melissa said, "Ooooohhhhh, honey, it looks good enough to eat!" She said it in that dreamy little voice of hers, a child's voice in a woman's body. Sheila closed her eyes a moment, trying to remember the name of that actress, the one she couldn't stand to watch, the one who always played teenaged sluts and did tit scenes in R-rated movies. Same voice. Soft and sweet and light as a feather, and as innocent as a ten-year-old asking for a lick of that tasty-looking pecker.

"Then eat it," Lou said, and Sheila wanted to crawl under a rock. She didn't want to watch this – she knew what was coming, knew how much it would hurt – but she couldn't tear her eyes away, even when she tried. She could still see it, plain and clear, Lou thrusting his cock into Melissa's sweet mouth.

Grabbing him by the legs, she began to eat him up and down, gobbling, swallowing, making loud, vulgar slurpy sounds. It made Sheila queasy. Until now she could almost have pretended that Melissa's erotic display was for her benefit, for Sheila's own private arousal. But not now. She understood the game that was being played on the beach, and she understood that she could only spy on it. No one would ask her to join in.

The tears flowed more freely as she watched Melissa humiliate herself, make her mouth a receptacle for that man's throbbing prick, as she watched Melissa apparently reveling in her own shame. It was Sheila's shame too. She didn't want to watch, but she couldn't stop. She didn't want to fuck herself, but she couldn't stop her fingers from reaming madly in and out of her pussy. The sprawl of Melissa's busty, ripe frame on the sand, the curve of legs and hips, the thrust of tits – they were too much, God, too much! Sheila was excited and she was saddened, and she was so ashamed of herself for what she was doing, but she couldn't make her fingers go limp in her steamy jungle of a twat, and she couldn't force her pussy to stop snapping like a piranha at those fingers.

Her nipples were stiff, agony swelling and coursing in them each time her hand brushed the rubbery little tips. She knew that a warm wet mouth could make those nipples feel good – better than good – but she didn't have a warm wet mouth to suck on her, only her fumbling, aroused hand, clawing over her lust-hardened boobs, pinching viciously at her swollen, aching nipples.

"You gonna fuck me?" Melissa asked, wiping drool from her mouth as she sat up. She had a smug grin on her face. Forty feet away, Sheila could see that grin. Lou's cock jutted up with a slight curve in its length, giving him the appearance of a scimitar someone had tried, not successfully, to straighten out. Sheila was good at estimations. Space and proportion were part of her calling as an artist. And she knew that Lou was a well-hung man, that his cock was big and fat and long and thick, bigger than the average, bigger than any other prick she had ever seen. The knowledge fired her with rage. Was Melissa like other women? Did she think of nothing but length, thickness, stiffness? Did her every waking dream center around a stiff prick? Was she really just another Claire, after all, another Lucy, another Janice, another Melanie?

"It seems kinda kinky," Melissa observed, lying back on the sand, her knees up. "I mean, here we are. Your wife in the house and us on the beach. Shouldn't we at least invite her to join us?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, baby?" Lou teased, coming into the spread of Melissa's legs. He put his hands on her knees, worked them. She tossed her blonde hair around. Obviously she was happy.

"Think she's sexy?" Melissa made a humming sound that meant yes. "You should have seen her when I left," Lou added. "She was a nothing. Student in one of my classes, used to come sucking around to me after class. Not much to look at, all stringy hair and knobby knees, but I wasn't much myself then. All I knew was Keats and Wordsworth and Shelley. We used to go to motels and recite poetry. It was a hell of a lot better than the fucking we did."

Sheila's ears burned. She was hearing something she had no right to hear, but it was not Lou's right to talk about Caron that way, either. As if she were a thing. She was a woman, and she was a good woman. She's my sister, Sheila thought. I ought to go out and kick his nuts. Get some use from the karate lessons I took. The fucking pig!

"Are you better now?" Melissa giggled.

"You know I am, baby. Know what? Something tells me Caron is, too. Would you really like to make it a three-way, get her into the middle?"

Melissa giggled. "I don't think she likes me well enough. But somebody else does."

"That boyfriend?" Lou wondered. "I saw the way he was drooling when he got a look at your jugs. And such sweet jugs they are, too. You oughta give him a taste, maybe keep his tongue from dragging on the floor." He reached down, squeezed her titties. Melissa squealed in glee and romped on the sand. Her knees scissored together on Lou and she pulled him down upon her. One of her hands, stroked his bald head and it looked as if she were licking his ear. "No shit," Sheila heard Lou say. "I never even noticed. You really think so?"

"Mmmm-hmmmm," Melissa purred. "Right on the carpet, if nobody'd been looking. And you know what else, honey?" She pulled his head close again.

Lou gave a mighty, bear-like guffaw. It went well with the new look he'd acquired. Jesus, Sheila thought, the last time I saw him, he was a sallow-faced turd with a spare tire big enough for a Mercedes around his middle, and he looked like the kind of guy who went to singles' bars every night but never scored. And now – big hard hairy body, barrel chest, broad muscled shoulders, big arms, strong-looking thighs – no Arnold Schwarzenegger, but no Lou Archer either. "No shit!" she heard him say. "Well, in that case, baby, I oughta give you a good one. Just to make everybody happy, hmmmm?"

Melissa hummed something, and her legs spread widely, and Lou came down upon her. There was a moment of fumbling and then the girl wailed out a cry of delight. Her legs shot up into the air, toes wiggling, and she moaned, "Oh, do it, Lou, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."

Sheila's eyes were full of tears now, thankfully misting the degraded sight she was watching, and there was a roaring in her ears, louder than the inrush of the surf further down the beach. "I could make you bloom," she whispered, still pawing her tits and frigging her hot box of a pussy. "I could light up your life. It wouldn't be the same after you'd been with me, darling. You'd never look at him again, never want to look at another man. You'd know how ugly they are, with their big hard cocks sticking out and all their brains in those cocks. You'd want me, me only. And I'd give myself to you, fully, completely. The only thing I'd want in return – the only thing I'd ask would be you, darling, just you. No, please, Melissa, don't – don't make those noises – don't moan – don't cry out – don't fold your legs around him. Tell him to get off you. Tell him, you don't want to do it. I'll come and help. Just scream. Scream for help and I'll be your help. Call me, Melissa. Call to me. I'll come. I'll come. I'll come!"