Carl Van Marcus - The motorcyclist_s wife

"Please, Sandi, look at me," she repeated as the naked girl kept her face buried in her hands. "Tell me about it, and you'll feel better. I want to be your friend – your real friend. You can trust me, honey."

As she spoke, the aroused twenty five year old leaned closer to Sandi, then picked up the bar of soap and began gently rubbing it over the quivering girl's back and long, lithe legs. She was so close to her softly swelling breasts that she could have reached out her tongue to lick at the raspberry-pink nipples, but she forced herself to save that for later. No use frightening the already overwrought girl…

In spite of her horrified guilt at being discovered in such an incriminating position by Larry Johnson's wife, Sandi found her sobs gradually subsiding and her body untensing in response to the older woman's kind words and soothing hands. Until now, she'd always thought that the sophisticated brunette was scornful of her… but in fact she now seemed very kind and understanding. Suddenly the guilt-ridden blonde's need to confide in someone overcame her reserve, and she turned to the woman above her with a tremulous smile.

"Oh, Clare, it's all so terrible! I just don't kn-know what I'm going to do…"

"Calm down, honey. Everything's all right now… he's gone away…" Clare soothed. "Just lie back and let me wash your hair…"

Sandi blushed a furious shade of red as she realized that Clare saw the obscene cum-matted condition of her head, but part of her was simultaneously glad that she no longer had to keep up any pretense.

"There were t-two of them," she replied in a sad, broken-spirited voice.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Clare sympathized, hoping that none of the excitement she felt at the idea of this luscious young body being ravished by two hard male cocks showed in her voice. "There, now you're all clean again," she continued, giving the stricken blonde's enticing breasts a quick caress before pulling herself to her feet. "Come on, let me dry you off and get you into bed, and then you can get it all off your chest."

Sandi rose obediently, holding on to Clare's hand for support, and let her bruised and tingling body be gently toweled dry by the sympathetic older girl. The soft feminine hands felt so good against her violated flesh, so different from the strong, forceful hands of the men who'd abused her helpless body, that she wanted to cry with relief. Even when the gentle fingers lingered so long on her ultra-sensitive breasts and inner thighs that the all-too-familiar fingers of forbidden excitement teased through her bloodstream, she felt secure in the knowledge that for once the intentions were innocent.

All the ugly things that have happened have really made me crazy, she told herself. How on earth can I be feeling all tingly again? Clare's so nice – I wonder how she can be married to a horrible person like Larry? She's just like the older sister I used to dream about! Thank God she came over tonight – I'd be going out of my mind if I were alone.

Docilely, gratefully, Sandi Smith allowed her new friend to lead her into the bedroom and settle her well-scrubbed naked body down on top of the big bed. It felt so good to have a competent, understanding woman taking charge of things and making her feel like a human being again instead of a despicable slut that the distraught young wife felt some of the guilt and tension drain from her fatigued loins. Gradually, the cool, almond-scented lotion which the wife of her husband's manager was rubbing onto her tensely muscled back almost erased the shameful memory of how she'd wantonly sucked on the pungent-tasting male flesh of the evil-minded photographer's friend.

"Now," Clare cooed, "tell me what those two awful men did to you. What a terrible thing to happen, just when you were already so upset about Verne…"

For a fleeting moment Sandi was tempted to unburden her soul to this kind-hearted older woman, but she was too embarrassed to describe the humiliation she'd been through in the past twenty-four hours. How could she ever admit the thing that troubled her most of all? How could she ever expect any decent person to understand that she'd liked being used by strange, unscrupulous men?

Clare felt the younger blonde's richly sculpted figure grow tense beneath her massaging fingertips and decided to stop pressing for the lurid details. Soon enough, she felt certain, they'd be so close that there'd be no secrets between them.

"Would you like something to drink, Sandi? That might help you sleep," Clare suggested. "Some wine or something?"

Sandi's body shuddered convulsively beneath the older girl's massaging hands. "I've had so much to drink today that I don't think I ever want to taste alcohol again," she sighed. "My head's still spinning. And every time I drink, I just seem to get into trouble."

"I'll bet you've not been eating, have you? That's why you're dizzy! Let me go fix you something – how about an omelet?"

Although she'd not had a meal for so long she couldn't remember, Sandi was repulsed by the suggestion of eating. At Clare's well-meaning words, she once again felt the stranger's obscenely swollen penis throbbing inside her mouth and tasted the pungent, heated sperm splashing down her throat.

Oh God! How could I have done it? And now I'll never be able to forget it, never in my entire life! Sandi's mind wailed, and in the next instant she was sobbing inconsolably.

Clare couldn't imagine what she'd said to set off this new burst of tears, but she took advantage of the girl's near-hysterical state to climb onto the high bed and wrap her arms around the thrashing, sobbing blonde. Soft, comforting words poured from her sultry pink lips as she kissed the tears away from the young girl's tear-stained cheeks, and her arms rocked her as though she'd been a small child.

"Please don't cry like that, honey. Nothing can be as bad as all that," she said when Sandi's sobs had begun to subside.

"But it's me that's bad, don't you see?" the guilt-tortured blonde moaned. "I'm sinful… sick…"

And then a barrier that had been dammed up inside her for years suddenly burst, and she was pouring out her heart to the sympathetic older girl, not thinking in her mindless despair to omit even the degrading details of her encounter with Larry, the other girl's own husband. At last, feeling drained and strangely cleansed from her cathartic outburst, she fell silent with her exhausted young body cradled in Clare's caressing arms.

For a few minutes Clare Johnson remained silent too, turning the younger wife's anguished confession over and over in her mind. She couldn't help feeling shocked, not over the perfectly normal way Sandi had inadvertently fallen into and enjoyed sexual encounters, but over the ponderous burden of guilt and self-loathing the poor girl was carrying on her shoulders. What in God's name had been the matter with her parents?

"Sandi," she said softly, "don't you know that you're completely normal? All women feel just the same way you do."

The blonde's bewildered eyes flickered with hope, then grew dull again as she shook her damp blonde curls in disbelief.

"Well, almost all," Clare amended, thinking of Sandi's mother. "And even if maybe you're a little more sensual than some women, I think that's a good thing. Certainly nothing to be ashamed of!"

Sandi hung her head, ashamed to meet the other wife's eyes after her revealing tirade. "But I… I just feel so dirty…" she murmured in a sad, helpless voice. "I feel so ugly…"

"Ugly! Good God!" Clare exclaimed. "You have a beautiful body! You should be proud of it." Her lust-smoldering eyes caressed the naked blonde's perfectly-sculpted body, and she wondered what the girl would do if she bent down and kissed the soft mounds of her breasts.

"And… and the things I did – adultery, t-taking his th-thing in my mouth – they're wrong. They're sins!"