John Reskind - Kappy

The raven-haired enchantress hungrily ogled her husband's thick, heavy-veined organ he had continuously stroked throughout the young Wilsons' lovemaking sequence, their own act of voyeurism doing as much to stimulate her lust as the actual performance itself. Her belly and loins churned with sensual fermentations that she had helped agitate with an unashamed finger teasing warmly between her excitedly flushed cunt-lips, gently tweaking her ever hardening clitoris while she watched the desirable young Mr. Wilson try to satisfy that little blonde bitch with his husky young cock. God, she couldn't imagine cumming any less than a half-dozen times with that virile rod of youthful, cock flesh fucking into her… and how she wished she had him right on top of her at that moment, with his proud little blonde wife forced to stand by and watch!

"Where the hell is that Goddamned Seybor with the Jarvis cunt? Max snarled, bolting from the bed to his feet and stripping away his lounging robe.

Admiringly, Maggie stared at her naked husband with his thick, hairy chest and broad shoulders. Few big men at his age of fifty kept themselves in such trim, she reflected for the millionth time, letting her eyes trail down over his powerful physique, actually appreciating the slight overhang of his belly above the menacing wagon-tongue-like cock poling out from his hair-matted loins.

Yes, she could have been happy with him alone if things had been different, if he'd chosen to do anything else rather than play politics. But he'd been both ambitious and a profligate, and she had frowned on neither characteristic. Rather, had she willingly joined forces with him, and in all truth she had never been sorry. Not only was she able to indulge to her own insatiable cravings at will, but she still could enjoy the sadistic pleasure of his ravaging cock when they both so chose, that act made more enticing by the extracurricular activities they engaged in… like the one coming up…

"You want me to ring the home, Daddy?" she questioned, petting Kappy's noble head beside her while she watched Max walk toward their corner bar. Of course, she knew he wouldn't. Invariably, they both preferred to stimulate their drives for hours before they satisfied their lust, and she had told her chief matron ten o'clock. It was yet five minutes from that. Besides, Maggie knew old lesbian Seybor wouldn't dare fail her lest she be cut off from the scrapped young delicacies she tossed her now and then to maul and intimidate.

"No… let's have a drink or two instead," he answered, moving behind the bar. "Scotch-rocks?"

"Fine."

Sandy Jarvis slipped only the form-fitting, mini street-dress she had been given over her naked body, while the ugly-faced, heavy tripped and legged matron stood back watching in obvious lecherousness. She wouldn't need anymore, she knew, brushing her page-boy styled hair and staring into the mirror of her so-called room where two other girls lay in their beds watching her.

"You… you afraid, Sandy?" fifteen-year old Helen Davis, a runaway, asked.

"Afraid…? Afraid of what?" Sandy replied as she manipulated the brush, the sudden thought occurring to her that there was no way they could frighten her. She had already seen and done too much in her young life…

"Shut up!" Seybor ordered. "You two should be asleep. You know the rules."

"Piss on you, Seybor," Carla Montez, an eighteen-year-old prostitute spat. Sandy smiled at her brazenness and Helen laughed outright. "Why don't you go downstairs and eat some more of Old Molly!"

"Y-You two-bit bitch!" Seybor hissed. "Wait 'till I get you!"

"You wait!" Carla spat disgustedly. "I can."

Again, Helen laughed.

"Okay, okay, let's get off the kick," Sandy suggested gaily, not at all minding the lark she was forced to attend. Her mind floated euphorically; she'd had the usual cube of sugar with its minimum dosage of LSD, but it was adequate to take her up and away. Hell, it didn't hurt to play slave to the master; he might take a sudden liking to you; besides, she hadn't had a feel or taste of male cock in six-weeks and it'd been sometime since she'd been so denied. Not that she couldn't live without it… there were other ways, but she'd rather live with it…

"Come on, come on, Jarvis," Seybor snapped. "He isn't going to be looking at your hair… just your pussy."

"Like you," Carla sneered, "oh, Seybor?"

Sandy dropped her brush and walked to the locked door, a smile uncontrollably broadening her attractive young face.

"I'll get to you, Montez!" Seybor hissed. "Don't worry, I'll get you sooner or later… then, we'll see how snide you'll be."

"I can't imagine anything more horrible than you eating me, Seybor," Carla spat, watching the infuriated woman unlock the door and shove her roommate through the opening.

"Remember, where, I can wait," Seybor hissed venomously. "You can't! Just remember that!" Then, to Sandy with a knuckle in the middle of her back: "Get going, you… and remember, it pays to be nice to Seybor… if you want to stay up on that happy little cloud."

Jean Wilson lay quietly in her young husband's arms as he slept. The immediacy of her desire had gradually dwindled, but the basic sensations still quavered in her belly and loins. God, there had to be something wrong with her! She had been almost on the brink of ultimate ecstasy… whatever that was… and suddenly it had been as if she were forsaken! Yet, she knew that Ken would never knowingly forsake her… he loved her as she loved him.

God, that they should be almost locked up like this, even forgetting the splendor of the place; they were still prisoners of a sort, and forced to do the Keeles' bidding. Had they been guilty of anything at all it would be different. They had only been in town a few hours, enroute on Ken's motorcycle to L.A. where he had intended to re-enter college while she found some sort of job to help support them. That income along with his uncle's annuity would surely have carried them… and then, this…!

For a moment, she thought of her own parents, their closely knitted family, her brothers, cousins, aunts and uncles, the security of the farm with its vast fields of rippling grain, but prudently, she put it from her. She'd made her choice and she wasn't sorry… The almost man who slept beside her. God, how she loved him! And he wasn't to blame… Another time… perhaps, the very next time! She could only hope, she reasoned as she kissed him affectionately while he slept…

Somewhere between the detention home and the Keele house, Sandy Jarvis' sang-froid temporarily faltered, which was natural enough, she reasoned, having no certain conception of what was to be expected of her. At that moment, she was thankful for the effects of the acid that Seybor had given her, and with a measure of concentration she visualized the handsome Director of Correction, re-satisfying herself that the party could be quite interesting… especially with an older man of his powerful physique. A tiny ripple of excited anticipation tingled in her belly as she tried to imagine the size of him where it counted, and she smiled to herself while Seybor led her into the house and up the stairs to the closed door…

"She's tripping nice and high, Mrs. Keele… should make for a swinging session," Sandy heard Seybor rasp luridly as she, herself, stared in surprise at the presence of the scantily clad, beautiful superintendent. She'd had no idea that Mrs. Keele was going to be there… only her husband, and as her young seasoned eyes quickly swept down the flimsy negligee, enhanced nakedness of her raven-haired woman it became quite apparent to her that she intended to participate in whatever was to come.

"What's the matter, Sandy dear? You seemed astonished at seeing me," Maggie said with a seductive little smile, her dark-eyes glittering rapaciously as she closed the door and slipped her arm around the shapely red-head's slender waist, walking her slowly into the room toward the bed. "I thought after our intimate little time together yesterday that you'd be happy to see me."