Unknown - Sally_s Secret Lover

«Oooooohh,» she murmured sensuously, her hand moving to slip under the narrow waistband of her panties and massage the smooth tense flesh of her belly. She wanted her husband now as she had never wanted him before, nor any man. She wanted him with her, inside her … oh, God, she wanted his mighty cock to tear her apart and fill her … fill her belly. She groaned again, dimly ashamed of her own self for the unabashed wantonness of her thoughts, and this handling of herself such as a naughty child might do for prurient pleasure. Her fingers crept downward to her sparse female hair that was still soaked with her dried cum and with sperm … God, with Lee Quigg's lewd sperm!

Wriggling ecstatically, Sally separated her own soft cunt lips and touched her middle finger to the tiny erect projection of her clitoris. Lord, she was afire down there! What was happening to her, had she gone sex-mad, shamelessly masturbating and violating herself this way? Oh, Ray, she begged soundlessly, I need you, darling, I need you to fuck me! It will be good this time, darling … so-o-o-o good … I'll make it good for you, just give me your wonderful cock!

With desperate fumbling haste she rotated her fingers around her throbbing clitoris, but it wasn't enough … she ground her buttocks together in helpless lust and rammed her entire small fist up against the burning flesh of her cock-craving pussy as the powerful aphrodisiac in her bloodstream drove her, completely unaware of the cause, into ever-increasing frenzy.

As he entered the swinging door of the bank, Ray Denham was keeping his fingers crossed, mentally. In recent days he had come to understand that he was hoping to acquire the drugstore almost as much for his wife Sally's sake as for his own. At the party they had attended at the country club, she had been so different … and it was only then he had realized how routine and boring her life must have been since he brought her here to Quiggville. The excitement of an evening out had brought a sparkle to her he rarely saw, especially when she'd been asked to dance so much and had chatted with the other wives. Of course she'd had too much to drink, but he could even forgive that under the circumstances. When – if – they began to earn a good income from the drugstore, Sally could take her rightful place in the social life of the tight little community and he himself could afford to be more sociable and unbend a little from his driving «all work – no play schedule. Everything depended on Lee Quigg's decision … which he would know in minutes now, after waiting so long.

Ray shook hands with the bank manager and nodded to John Blodgett as they welcomed him into the office. Both men had been drinking and had evidently been at it most of the morning, he thought, but their faces were as sober as if they had recently taken the pledge. He sat down in the indicated chair.

«Well, Ray, I didn't mean to put you off so long,» Lee Quigg began, «the fact is this has been a difficult loan application for me, one of the most difficult ones that I reckon I've ever run up against.»

The somber tone of his voice warned Ray even more than the cautious choice of words that his application had been rejected, and his whole lanky body seemed to sag in defeat.

«The Board of Directors simply wouldn't go for lending you any money,» Quigg continued, «although John and I both spoke in your favor and did what we could to change their minds. Now, that's all I'm obligated to tell you – that your application was turned down. But I feel I have a … a moral obligation to give you the reason.»

«That's all right,» Ray said bitterly, «I'm aware of the reasons – no cash, no backing – no loan.»

«It wasn't that Ray. You stand very high in the opinions of people in this town. You're a hard worker and a good manager … a fine credit risk. And I'm sure that you don't understand, or even suspect, why the Board wouldn't go along. I – well, damn it, this is kind of out of my line …»

«What Lee is trying to say,» John Blodgett broke in smoothly, «is that this is a very small town, Ray, where everybody knows just about everything about everybody else. And it's a very moral town … good, church-going people. People that just don't like to do business with someone they feel is not one hundred percent up to those high standards of behavior. Now I'm going to be blunt, sorry, because there's just no other way. Frankly, the general consensus of feeling around town is that while you rate very high – well, your wife just doesn't fit in as a member of our strait-laced little community.»

This statement was so ludicrous that at first Ray was not sure he was hearing right. Sally – not fit in Quiggville? Why, she was so far above the average local housewife in brains, education, character, and looks that there was not one woman he'd met here who could even come close to her. In his amazement, he at first rationalized that someone was jealous of Sally … maybe they had misinterpreted her natural reserve for snobbishness. «You've got to be kidding!» he exclaimed. «Christ, you know Sally. You know that's the most absurd piece of bullshit … who says she doesn't fit in? For that matter, what's her personality got to do with it anyway?»

«Simmer down, Ray. We're not talking about Sally's personality … I'm afraid it's a hell of a lot more serious than that. It's her morals that folks are questioning.»

«Now, look here …» Ray came up out of his chair, one hand pulled back into a fist.

«Hold on, hold on!» Blodgett cried quickly, «you got to listen to us … We know how you feel. Do you think this is easy for me 'n Lee to do, talk to a man this way about his wife?»

«All right,» with a masterful effort that left his face white, Ray controlled his temper. «So what are the local witches saying about Sally? That she wears mini-skirts, I suppose? She doesn't make it to church every Sunday?»

«You better have a drink, Ray,» Lee Quigg interposed, and he fetched one. «Now, I said all along maybe it's a psychiatric problem. When I first heard the talk I didn't believe it either … I said it's got to be some kind of mental quirk that the gal can't help …»

«Heard what talk?» the bewildered husband demanded, «what the hell are you guys trying to say? What's wrong with my wife?»

«The fact is,» John Blodgett's voice dropped to a lower register and he sat down opposite Ray and leaned forward confidentially, «she's been seen with various men. Some of them – I won't name names – have bragged about going out with her.»

Ray hurled his glass at the opposite wall, where it shattered against the paneling, and leaped at his boss, nearly throttling him before Lee Quigg succeeded in pulling him away and wrestling him to a halt. «It's true, Denham!» Quigg rasped. «It's all true. Get ahold of yourself, now. Why the hell would we be telling you this if it wasn't the truth?»

Blodgett's purpling face slowly regained its normal ruddy hue. «Y'see,» he pointed out, «we could have just turned down the loan, but we figured a man ought to know about it when his wife is putting out. Naturally the husband is always the last poor son-of-a-bitch to find out.»

«It can't be,» Ray said at last, groping his way to a chair as the room seemed to spin around him and their faces and voices blurred. «It can't be!» His Sally, his sweet innocent bride … dating other men, causing a scandal … cheating? He knew her better than that, knew everything there was to know about her, loved her … worshipped her. She wasn't capable of such a thing. Never. «There's a mistake somewhere,» he declared. «Something has been … misinterpreted, blown up out of proportion. I know Sally too well!»

«I pray you're right,» John Blodgett said fervently, «but it looks bad. Now that you're takin' the news a little better and more sensible-like, I'm going to tell you the worst, Ray. They're saying in the beer gardens and joints around town that your wife is a nymphomaniac, that she'll take on anyone. They go right up to your place while you're in the store! I didn't b'lieve it myself, Ray, hell, who could when they'd met that sweet little gal? But when even the women got wind of it and started yakking about the scandal – well, you know my office windows look right out on the square?» Ray nodded, «I've seen it myself, son, seen men, even young punk kids, going in at your door. Now that of itself don't prove anything … but it don't look good, either.»