Richard Van Dorne - Ravished wife

His hands rested on his lap, gently touching the large bulge of his swollen penis, stroking it slightly. He felt it twitch as she leaned back, her head touching the floor, then with her free hands, running her fingers over her torso, along the insides of her long dark thighs to the pink open lips of her vagina. His throbbing cock was ready to burst as he watched her spread the moist lips through the soft pubic hair and open her pulsating vagina with both hands, and insert two fingers.

Jeff could hardly breathe as his hand gripped his thick cock. He watched her as the two fingers began to stroke in and out of her soft, finger-stretched pussy, one against the other. No person in the room made a sound, as they watched, the men with their hands underneath their companions' skirts, and the women gently stroking swollen cocks.

Slowly, to everyone's disappointment, she removed the two fingers and slid their long nails along her skin, around her buttocks to gently whisk her tightly clenched anus.

In a few moments it'll be over, Jeff thought to himself, relieved that she was going to stop before he went mad. Quickly, almost ashamed, he moved his hand from the swollen penis. Why do it myself when she can, he thought, and got up from his chair, looking about the room for the young waiter who signaled him that everything was ready.

Fine, he thought, and made his way through the crowd to the door. Pam can go fuck herself, he rationalized. For once since he had been married, he, was going to have a real woman.

"Hello," she said through bright red lips. "I'm Carmen."

"I know," he answered her, anxious to get her away from the crowd in the large living room. "Is there somewhere we can go now?"

"You're in a big hurry," she told him, her Spanish accent slipping through each word. "I've got a room upstairs, but we can only stay for a while." Seeing his expression she offered an alternative, "But if you want me for longer, I can do that too, at my apartment."

"Fine," he said, not wanting to talk until they were away from the house.

"But it'll cost you more," she said coyly, "Much more."

"Let's go," he said looking at her eyes. Except for the color, they had the same shape and size as his wife's eyes.

Twenty minutes later he inserted the key into her lock and stepped into her apartment. She does well, he thought as he looked about the room.

"In here," she pointed toward the bedroom door and walked in.

It's not real, he thought as he followed her into the large bedroom. She even walked like Pamela and he couldn't decide whether it was going to be easier or harder for him to climb into bed with her. She possessed every sexual quality that his wife lacked, but the resemblance was so great…

"How old are you?" he asked as she kicked off her shoes.

"Twenty, why, are you a cop?"

He told her no, but the word cop had reminded him of the job he had to do. Wade Jackson must be stopped, but oh God, what a price to pay, he thought, not wanting to wait.

"I'd like a drink first," he said as she began to unzip her dress.

"Whatever you say," she answered him in her sexiest Cuban voice.

They went into the living room and she fixed them both a drink, bringing his to him where he sat on the couch.

"You haven't even asked me how much," she said, wondering if he might be a very wealthy man.

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised, indicating a question.

"Three hundred," she said hesitantly. If he was rich, he would pay it.

"Three hundred dollars would have to buy a lot more than just a night in bed," he told her.

Oh brother, she thought, another weirdo. I wonder what tricks he likes?

"You're the boss, big man," she said trying to be cute.

"Where're you from," he asked without hesitating.

What's he gonna do, talk all night?

"I'm from Cuba," she answered, thinking that he wouldn't care what she said. "I've been in the States for a year."

Jeff continued questioning her for the next hour, and she slowly began to trust him, talking more freely as the drinks increased. She had barely escaped Castro's assassins three years ago when they had murdered her father. Hiding in the mountains she had gotten involved in an underground railroad operation and finally been able to escape to Miami.

But things for her in the United States hadn't been much better. All of her friends were educated people, but none of them could get jobs suiting their professional ability. Even her brother, who held an engineering degree, had to work in a service station. She had gone to work as a prostitute to help her family, all of whom were now in Miami, except for her parents, both of whom were dead.

"I remember," she said thoughtfully, "That we were a very rich family when I was young. But that gangster Castro and his thieves took everything, then killed my parents."

Her voice was sad, but no tears came to her eyes. This man liked to listen to her, she knew. Maybe he could do something to help her exiled people if he is a big politician like the rest of the men at the party.

Before she could say any more he interrupted, "Who do you work for now?"

The question caught her off guard and she answered immediately, suddenly afraid when she did. One of the basic rules of the girls who worked for Wade, was never to reveal his identity.

"You won't tell anyone, will you," she pleaded. "If you knew what would happen to me for telling you that I would be in very beeg trouble."

Jeff looked at her, trying not to see his wife. "We can help each other if you want to," he finally said.

Not understanding, Carmen just stared at him.

"It's very simple," he explained and began to tell her his story.

She said nothing as he talked, taking in every word. He explained that he was a newspaperman and what he was looking for with Wade Jackson. If she would cooperate with him, he would use his influence to advertise the problems of her friends in Miami, and help arrange suitable jobs for them.

For a moment after he had finished she only looked at him, then suddenly jumped across the couch and threw her arms around his neck, showering him with kisses.

"Oh, gracias, gracias," she exclaimed again and again in a sudden reversion to her native language.

Embarrassed at her display of affection for his offer, he tried gently to push her away, but the aroma of her smooth dark skin and the warmth of her breasts as they pushed against his chest brought back the tingling between his legs. Suddenly she was again the sensual creature that had nearly driven him mad when she stripped completely in front of all those people, then had used her fingers like he wanted to use his swiftly rising cock.

She kissed him again with a resounding smack and jumped off the couch and began dancing around the room on her toes. No one had ever offered to help her before, but this man would. She could feel it as she danced. Then, without his seeing it, she pulled at a pullaway zipper and suddenly stood holding her dress in her hands.

Jeff's mouth went dry as he gave up the battle. His wife could never be like Carmen, and right now he didn't give a damn. The tingling in his trousers had become a small blaze, and his swollen cock needed release from its imprisonment.

"A private dance just for you," she said with her eyes twinkling, and twirled around again.

Downing his drink and getting up to pour himself another, he watched her closely. What the hell, I can find out what I need to know later, he thought as he swallowed his drink and reached to pour another. He remembered her body from before, though he had known one exactly like it for three years, though his wife had never allowed him to see all of it in the light before. She was too much, and would probably drain him, he thought, but if it's going to be fast, then I'd better be able to do it more than just a few times.