Carole Wilson - Video Games

What a cunt that Kitty was, his mind reminded him, while his body screamed for a halt: it could take no more. And she was only eighteen years old, too. Christ! It was like Christmas come early: twice in one night his cock had been sucked and he felt as if he'd eaten the whole pie instead of his one rightful piece.

Stephan slipped his house key into the lock and quietly pulled open the sliding glass door separating their living room from the patio. The bedroom was on the other side of the hallway and should Gillian still be anxiously awaiting his return, he could always arm himself with the excuse that he'd gone for a swim-had had too much to drink and sat out under the stars for long enough to clear his head.

All the lights were out. He sighed with relief. With shoes in hand he padded across the living room carpet and into the hall…no sound came from the bedroom; good. He stopped, waiting in the still, black silence of his home, but there was only the faint and regular pattern of heavy breathing, and Stephan took this to mean his wife was asleep.

He didn't know that she'd heard his car drive up, that she'd been waiting all night for him to come home to her, that actually she was very much awake, lost in a troubled state of indecision, hoping that her husband would not want to fuck her tonight, but at the same time desperately in need of his solace, his strong comforting arms around her quaking shoulders. She didn't know why she felt this way, except that it had something to do with those damned films and that a new undiscovered instinct and desire had been awakened in her. One that she would not test just yet.

No, Stephan was unaware of his wife's true condition, but in his own way he was glad that she was asleep and hadn't waited up for him, perhaps to have him fuck her. Not now, after the hours of wild, abandoned sexual games and stints that he'd just staged with that nymphomaniac eighteen-year-old fuck-film star. He was satiated completely, in a state of absolute contentment, and in no mood either to argue heatedly with a distraught wife or to try and explain why he couldn't get another hard-on. Christ! After that Kitty, he'd be lucky to raise another hard-on in a week.

He went into the bathroom to undress, closing the door so that the light wouldn't bother Gillian. Quickly he stripped his clothes off, not as fast as he had done for Kitty, and this time hanging them on a hook.

He stepped into the shower and let the needle spray wash off the fragrant, telltale perfume of his indiscretions, the odors of wild screwing which would be readily identified by his wife. He thought about Kitty, the beautiful young enticing whore, and although the lightheaded joy of his repast with her didn't fade, the act of cleansing himself seemed also to add some regret.

Stephan stepped from the shower, with mixed emotions. No longer was he the ignorant older brother, the square; no way! Now he was the older, wiser brother, and he vowed that he would not let Gillian's uptightness get in the way of his newfound way of life. Yet, there but a few feet from him was his loving, faithful wife, whom he loved very deeply. He sighed. If only she was more open, more abandoned, like Kitty had been.

Well, there was only one thing to do about it. Make her understand too that there was more to fucking than just climbing on and climbing off!

He toweled himself briskly, his mind made up. Yes, the passive Stephan was in the past, and he was going to show her a more forceful, more worldly husband from here on in. At first she might not like it, he had to admit, but she would soon see that he was right. And Stephan knew just now he was going to accomplish this education of his lovely, innocent wife He was going to go ahead with the films! He was going to use the instant movie camera again. He could take wilder ones! Ones with him in them, maybe even showing his cock fully fucking her! His cock trembled anew and he moaned lightly as he dreamed of all the combinations he was going to do with his wife. But he knew that in order to accomplish this task, he would have to handle things gently, diplomatically.

Stephan headed for the bedroom and, leaving the dim night light on in the doorway, opened the bedroom door and peeked in. The shower had straightened out his twisted mind enough so that he could trust his vision, and the debris on the bedroom carpet puzzled him. Why would Gillian go to sleep leaving all this garbage scattered around? So unlike her. With the dim wattage in his favor, he bent over and picked up what looked like pieces of plastic and gasped.

My God! She found the films! And she had put them in the viewer and watched them! He should wake her up now, and explain them to her, talk to her about them, but when he touched her and she didn't move he took a long breath of relief and decided to wait until tomorrow. There would be plenty of time for talking then. Plenty of time.

Gillian had slept fitfully all night. The whole evening had been almost too much. First she had seen those filthy movies, then she had gotten so hot that she had had to fuck her fingers into her cunt in order to stop the fires. She had been relieved when Stephan had decided not to mention the cassettes last night. He could have pressed the point, by waking her up, but he hadn't, and she was glad. It gave her some extra time to get her own feelings together.

Gillian stared at her husband across the breakfast table and it seemed to her that he had changed somehow, in some almost imperceptible way, almost overnight; there seemed to be a firmer set to his jaw, as if with some hidden purpose, and his eyes held a new, oddly flashing light that she had never seen in them before. He didn't speak, only held his paper up to his face with a shaking hand and sipped his coffee with loud slurps.

She wanted to rid her soul of the deep burden weighing her down, but why? What purpose would it serve at eight o'clock in the morning?

Instead she picked at her eggs and sipped her coffee daintily. It's all because of that damned instant movie camera! she repeated to herself.

Sitting there with her tormented thoughts, she had the odd sinking feeling that her perfect, well-ordered little world was about to come crashing down around her ears. Everything was too strange, too unrealas if it were the proverbial calm before the storm. She hoped that she was wrong, that it was simply her guilt at her actions last night, her finger-fucking herself while looking at those filthy movie films, that was making her feel so morbid and depressed.

Behind his newspaper, Stephan Edwards smiled lewdly to himself. So she did see those films after all, he thought with a clear head. That's why she's acting so strange this morning. She's feeling guilty because she enjoyed them. Tonight we'll take care of it all, we'll clear the air.

He peeked over the top of his newspaper and studied his wife-his beautiful, passionate, warm Gillian. He moistened his lips. She was better than that young whore, Kitty, any day of the week. Or she would be, once she learned the art of sucking and being sucked. And she would learn-soon, soon. Tonight, maybe. Stephan's cock gave an excited little dance in his robe as he thought of what would happen when he got Gillian warmed to the idea.

Could he talk her into more movie-taking? Well, not in the mood she was in now. But if he could get her a little high-downright drunk would be even better-he could convince her that it would be all right to take more movie films. And that would surely get her pussy hot, for even though she hadn't been outwardly excited by the movies he had left in his study, she had to have had enough curiosity to open that envelope and see what was inside. That meant she had to possess, he reasoned, curiosity about other things as well, like sucking his cock and letting him suck her pussy. Hers was an untapped resource, just waiting for the drilling to begin. She loved him and wanted to please him, hadn't she told him that often enough? Yes, tonight would be the night, after all!