Peter Jensen - The blackmailed wife

Ann shifted nervously next to Carlos. She had never expected anything like this. In the show she and Dave had seen, the girl had left on a "G" string, ineffectual as it was – but this exposed all the girl had to offer – she was making no attempt to hide it either.

The girl lay back on the bed now, the picture of her absent lover in her hands, looking at it with a deep longing that could mean only one thing. She was aroused and needed release!

Ann almost gasped aloud as the girl's free hand massaged her own breasts in tiny teasing circles, tweaking the soft nipples into sudden throbbing hardness. Her legs scissored open and closed slowly, exposing the thin slit of her vagina, nestled teasingly in the soft dark hair between her thighs. Her feet were pointing directly at the heavily-breathing audience watching the girl slowly work herself into a burning passion. Her buttocks twisted against the mattress as though she were trying to bury herself in it. Sheer, wanton desire reflected in her eyes. It seemed so real, Ann couldn't understand how the girl could act such a part unless she really felt it. She remembered lying in her own bed recently and thinking about Dave and how she had almost gone insane until she had relieved herself with her own fingers. She blushed slightly at the guilt flicking through her conscience. She squirmed her own buttocks nervously, feeling the edge of the cushion brush electrically against the soft swelling of her vulva. She jumped at the unexpected contact and the more unexpected shock it had brought. Her breath quickened.

Carlos, in his concentration on the girl, had forgotten the champagne and Ann reached forward and hurriedly poured herself one, her eyes on the stage. She downed the refreshing liquid quickly, attempting to cool some of the warmth the girl's passion had transmitted to her own body.

While she was pouring, Carlos lit two more thin, brown cigarettes and passed her one. Without thinking, Ann pressed it to her lips and pulled deeply, perhaps hoping it would still the unfamiliar ache beginning deep within her belly.

With each drag, Ann could feel herself mentally unwind. This one heightened the feeling from the first cigarette. She didn't feel she was the same person she had been a moment ago. She was someone else and it frightened her a bit but she couldn't think about it now. The heat and excitement of the room was beginning to stimulate her hotly against her will. She squirmed down against the couch again, feeling the round edge of the cushion push dress and panties into her crevice; she rubbed herself gently against it, working the corner of the cushion between the moist lips of her vulva. Her body rocked on it in almost indiscernible rhythm – in concert with the writhing girl on the stage. She could feel the wetness spread between her thighs and she spread them slightly to gain greater contact with the cushion. The roughness brushed soothingly against her tiny, rising clitoris through the sheer panties.

She looked guiltily out of the corner of her eye at Julia and Pete next to her to make sure they hadn't noticed; but they were so engrossed that they had paid no attention. Julia lay back against Pete, dragging heavily on another hashish cigarette, and Pete had his hands inside her bodice. Ann could see it move tantalizingly under the thin material covering her breasts. Her dress had slipped up so that the white thighs were visible above the stocking tops; her legs were slightly spread. In the dim light, Ann could see the white band of her panties between them. Julia seemed unaware of the exposure. Her mouth was open in intoxicated rapture as both watched the stage intently in expectation.

Ann leaned against the back of the couch, careful not to break contact with the edge of the cushion pressed into the crevice between her fevered thighs and found Carlos' arm behind her waiting. Without thought, she relaxed against it and made no protest when his hand came to rest heavily on her left breast.

His arm feels good, she thought to herself, and it doesn't hurt anything. She pulled again at the cigarette in her lips. The musky odor of Carlos' cologne filled her nostrils, stimulating her more. It had a rich, suggestive odor that caused her to snuggle closer as the excitement of forbidden naughtiness rippled through her.

It seemed an eternity since she had last looked at the stage but it was only moments. The sweet, pungent hashish had warped her time sense. The girl on the bed writhed more lasciviously now as though being attacked by some unseen lover. She had placed the picture on the bedside table and both her hands were running over her body as though out of control, her fingertips dancing over the flat, ivory belly and coming to rest, together, at the vee of her soft, down-covered crotch. She groaned on the stage at the sudden contact of her hands with the moist slit between her thighs and pulled her knees up, her toes on the mattress. Then, she straightened the legs like two beautifully carved ivory columns above the bed; with a deeper groan, she let them fall wide apart exposing to the excited onlookers the moist, glistening furrow between. Her fingers crawled to the soft hair covered lips and spread them slowly apart until the wet pinkness was fully visible and the mouth-like orifice opened hungrily. The half-moons of her rounded buttocks shone in the stage light, divided by the hot, avid crevice between them. Her tiny anus nestled mysterious and inviting below the swollen and agitated lips.

Ann gasped in disbelief as the girl slowly inserted a middle finger into the glistening pink, stroking the tiny bud-like clitoris. Carlos' hand squeezed her breast tighter as she heard and felt his breathing becoming heavier. She was afraid to look at him; was hypnotized into immobility as the sensuous movements of the girl on the bed increased and her probing fingers worked themselves inside the pink edges of her contracting cunt, slowly widening the lips. She slipped her index finger in and out smoothly between the lubricated lips. Her legs jack-knifed back, knees against her breasts and the soft rounded buttocks rose and fell in response to the inquiring finger. The girl's facial muscles tightened as she joined two fingers with the first and, clenching her teeth, pushed all three into the hungry, pink folds. They disappeared with a soft, sucking noise and a soft moan of pleasure purred from the girl's lips.

Ann tensed in momentary shock at this indignity and only Carlos' firm grip on her now-throbbing breasts kept her from running from the room. She sensed that she had better go, before it was too late and her own excitement ran away with her.

This desire lasted only a moment before the effect of the cigarette lulled her again. She waited in anticipation and nervous fear of her own emotions to see what would happen next. Ann felt too closely identified with the girl writhing in desire before her and knew there was a danger point from which there was no turning back. She took another sip of champagne and another pull at the hashish. The warm, relaxing smoke curled deliciously down into her lungs relaxing and easing her mind of fear at the passion raging through her own body. She snuggled back again against Carlos, foggily determined, somehow, to keep her guard up.

The girl on the bed had become possessed. Her eyes and teeth were clenched as she writhed beneath her own driving fingers in uncontrollable passion. The rapid rhythm drove grunts of pleasure from deep in her throat as the fingers sunk into the tight, pink openings, making moist, sucking sounds as she withdrew them to push them in again. Her face was red – straining for climax. She groaned in frustration as her own fingers thrust harder and deeper. They were not enough. Her head rolled from side to side on the pillow, her long dark hair flying in frustration at the inability to bring herself to climax. Still she tried, her hand beating a wild staccato against the spread, straining buttocks, the grunts faster and louder with each passing second.