Just Stories to share

[hamster2007]

Hi Bros, first time posting story so please bear with me if I made any mistakes. These are only stories for bro here to enjoy and not any true account.

Blackmailed Into Swapping

Chapter 1

After all that had happened, Mavis Moran mused. Willie Quentin still wanted her to continue working part-time at the supermarket he managed. After everything--Mavis was somewhat bewildered as she pushed her long, slender legs into pale blue panties, adjusted the double-ply crotch over her ample love place and arranged the cups of the matching bra around her firm breasts--she was still willing to work for him.

As she brushed her hair, she smiled at her expression in the mirror. At least, she knew Willie for what he was--or she thought she did. He was a charlatan--and he knew that she knew it. As she finished dressing, she wondered whether Becky Samon had kept her appointment the previous Wednesday to let Willie screw her.

Mavis smiled more broadly. "Theft, my itching butt!" she muttered. Well, Willie had tried that with her--it had almost worked--but she had caught him up. Well, she had after he had coerced her and seduced her in his office. She was slightly puzzled. There had been no hint of resentment that she had slugged Willie in the balls and thumped his hard-on with a knotted fist when he called her earlier, asked her to work. Well, that had happened Monday; this was Saturday. He had had ample time to get rid of any soreness in that time. And it probably hadn't made him too sore to shag little Becky, Wednesday. He really had the hots for her.

She probably wouldn't have accepted Willie's urgings to work if her husband, Phil, hadn't called the night before to say he couldn't possibly be home before nine Saturday night. It was only noon and Mavis poured herself a cup of coffee, thought of calling Miriam Carr and Connie Quentin to join her--she wasn't due to report to the store until almost four.

But she decided against it. She hadn't seen either of her two closest acquaintances for several days. She shrugged. "I suppose I should think of them as friends," she mused, sipping the coffee and lighting a cigarette. An awful lot of "things" had happened among them in the past several days to regard them merely as acquaintances.

Connie's husband, Willie, had gotten to her, as had Henry Carr, Miriam's husband. And Mavis still didn't know for sure whether Phil had screwed Miriam that night last week. Maybe he had taken on Connie and Miriam both--in the same bed at the same time! He hadn't made it clear!

Mavis almost wished he had humped them both--good--because Hank had screwed her! She shuddered as she remembered that repulsive Ben Glover ramming his obscene cock into that dainty Terry Lewis. "Ugh!" she muttered. Mavis wished she could have avoided everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks--but Miriam and Henry knew things about her that she just didn't think she could stand for Phil to find out! Another thing that made her almost ill was that no matter how repelled she had been by what she had been compelled to do, she had enjoyed it with an almost animalistic pleasure. She may have started out in the sex act filled with revulsion--but she loved to fuck and be fucked!

The thought tormented her that maybe she wasn't as much a sex captive as she had pictured herself. She fed on sex--and Phil hadn't touched her in a couple of weeks.

Her mind was distressed and she contemplated having another drink. But resisted. If Willie made a demand on her today, would she resist his bed and his lecherous cock? A warmth fluttered through her and she frowned. Right now, rationally, she was adamant that Willie Quentin wouldn't screw her--but her female chemistry was responding to her mental gymnastics!

Becoming more and more disturbed, Mavis decided to go to work early and get away from her thoughts and memories ...

[hamster2007]

At eight-thirty that evening, Willie Quentin left his office and strode straight to the checkout stand where Mavis was working. He was brusque and businesslike. "I want you to stay over until all of the local chain proceeds are in the armored van. You'll have to take care of the lock-up procedure and receiving the two van guards. My cashier was just called away because of a death in the family and the assistant manager was given the day off because I thought it would be a light weekend--right after a holiday."

Mavis nodded her consent and watched the tall, red-haired manager stalk
toward the elevator in the back of the store to return to his office. It had been a light evening. The other two checkout girls had gone just a few minutes before; the three stock boys, including Dell Emerson, Becky Samon's boyfriend, had gone at seven-thirty.

Earlier, Mavis had seen Mickey Lewis saunter through, buy a case of beer. He had avoided her, had checked out through one of the other stands. Maybe he was still embarrassed, knowing that she had seen his wife plundered by Ben Glover last Saturday night. Where had he been? Fucking Connie Quentin? Mavis knew that Phil had been occupied, somewhere, by Miriam Carr!

At eight, Henry Carr had roamed through the store in plainclothes while a uniformed officer bought a pack of cigarettes.

Mavis knew that Hank was with the officer as she had seen them both get out of the marked patrol car. It made her even more nervous when Henry Carr ignored her and the uniformed officer had checked out a few stands away. Things she had heard gave her reason for uneasiness.

Shortly after nine, she heard men coming and going in the vast stockroom. Mavis knew they were officials of other stores in the Salt Lake City area, bringing their store receipts for Willie to tabulate and lump all money together for the armored van fellows.

Mavis left her stand and tripped a series of switches with a special key that locked all customer doors electronically. Any tampering with the doors set off an automatic alarm at the Sugar House police station.

All she had to do was check the doors to see that the locks had engaged
properly. That left only two doors for entry and exit the side door for employees and the huge door to receive merchandise. The side door could
be opened from the inside or outside, but only by using special keys carried by Willie Quentin and the assistant manager. The loading dock door couldn't be opened at all from the outside, but had to be unlocked by throwing a series of three switches in the proper sequence, inside.

Only a few lights were on in the store proper. A single light burned in the stockroom it lit the passage from the loading dock to the stairway to Willie's office. With her uneasiness mounting, Mavis lurked near the entry to the stockroom, waiting for the armored van to arrive. She wished that Dell had remained behind--but he hadn't spoke five words to her since what Connie and Miriam had forced him to do! Mavis shrugged. She couldn't blame him. And she doubted that he even suspected that Becky was fucking Willie!

She wished the van guys would arrive. As soon as they rang the bell for entry at the loading dock, she would go in back, trip the switches and admit them. Then all she had to do was stand by until they took all that money, loaded it in the armored vehicle, and she could go home. She wondered whether Phil was already there. She had left him a note on the breakfast nook table, explaining where she was.

As she thought about her husband, warm anticipation pulsed through her. When he had called the night before, she detected a sexy promise in his voice. He had said they would have a couple of drinks and hinted at a long night of romping between the sheets.

She was startled when a faint bell sounded and she looked up to see a red light flashing beside it. The armored van had arrived. It would only be a few minutes before she could leave, get in her old car and hurry home to her husband's arms.

Mavis pushed through one of the swinging doors and half-ran to the back of the stockroom. She turned on a small light over a complicated switch panel and carefully manipulated the three switches in sequence. She stepped back, ready to greet the van guards with a smile--because she would be leaving soon.

But the three men who slipped inside the store weren't armored car guards. They were dressed in black coveralls with black hoods over their heads. In their black-gloved hands were ugly, menacing guns.

Her vague nightmares were about to become stark reality ... The store was about to be robbed and there was no way to warn Willie Quentin in his office alone with all that money!

The three men seemed huge to her and she was aware only of slight differences in height. Her mind raced and there was a dull ache in her breast. From things she had heard in the past, Mavis wondered if her husband, Phil Moran, was one of the hoodlums!

She had not time for further, rational thoughts as one of the men slapped her lightly and pushed her along the passageway toward the stairs to Willie's office.

[eston]

Camping here.

[prudent]

Interesting. Please carry on.

[hamster2007]

Maybe the van guys will show up and stop them, Mavis thought as she felt a hand up under her skirt, fingers pushing against her crack, urging her up the steps. She had no way of knowing that the three men had pushed ether bombs into the armored car to overcome the two guards, then had looted it of about two hundred thousand dollars.

"Open the door," one of the men--the one who was squeezing one of her
nervous fanny buns--ordered in a guttural mumble. Terrified, Mavis pressed a button. A buzzer indicated that Willie had disengaged the lock.

Mavis was given a brutal shove forward and she crashed through the door and sprawled on the floor against Willie Quentin's desk. The three men stormed inside and one of them lashed Willie across the side of the head with a gun barrel, sending him sprawling back in his chair.

There were five dark blue sacks on the floor at one end of Willie's desk. He had tabulated the receipts and all of that money was ready to go.

Mavis rose unsteadily and peered at Willie who was rubbing a swollen welt on the right side of his head. "Get naked, you two!" the taller of the three bandits ordered harshly, stepping around the desk to slug Willie on the left cheek bone with his fist. "Naked!"

"Nooooo!" Mavis started to protest. The man slapped her again, hooked a gloved hand in the bodice of her dress and ripped it open to the waist.

"Getcher goddamned clothes off!"

She watched Willie get awkwardly to his feet and start stripping out of his clothes, his eyes darting from pistol to pistol. Mavis, in her terror, was only vaguely aware that she was shedding her clothes. After kicking off her flat-heeled shoes, she stopped, standing there in nothing but skimpy panties and low-cupped bra. A gun barrel was pressed into her navel and she quickly slithered out of her skivvies and tossed aside the bra.

Willie was already naked, standing up, both hands braced on the top of his desk. The situation was blocked from her mind for a moment; she had never seen his penis soft, but it was still quite long. His testicles were large; the robbery hadn't caused them to shrivel. She felt sorry for him. His eyes were going to be black and he would have a tremendous lump on the side of his head.

The only man who had spoken moved around her and pushed her toward the
desk. She almost fainted as the cold steel of a gun barrel was thrust against her anus.

Harsh, mocking laughter turned her sick. "Get that red-haired bastard
hard--hurry it up--or you'll have a helluva time getting this lead out of your ass!"

"Please!" Mavis implored as she was pushed around one end of the desk. She noticed that one of the men grabbed two sacks of the money and hurried from the office. The other shoved Willie into his chair and tied his arms behind the back. Then he unrolled a band of wide adhesive tape and wrapped it all the way around Willie's head, across the clamped mouth.

Mavis was shoved onto her knees beside Willie as Willie's legs were tied to the swivel mechanism and underpinning of the chair.

"Make the bastard a monstrous hard-on, baby!" the man snarled.

With disgust mingling with fright, Mavis reached timidly for Willie's genitals. His bag of balls was a handful. She began jacking him off, running the thick skin of his penis up and down the limberness. Up over the head and back down toward his hairy crotch. The glans jerked and perked and she flogged his meat more quickly. How could his peter respond like this, under the circumstances, she wondered as starch flowed into his bone and the penile shaft thickened and stiffened. In a couple of minutes, Willie had a full hard-on and Mavis prayed that her tormentor wouldn't make her give Willie a blow-job!

But that wasn't his intention. She was yanked backward roughly, landing on her naked ass, legs sprawled wide, feet in the air,

She stared in disbelief as the other man unrolled a lot of his tape. He hesitated when the third man returned and left with the other three sacks of money. Then he squatted beside Willie and slowly taped his hard prick with the adhesive tape. Round and round and round and round that massive pecker until it resembled an obscene mummy. Then he wrapped Willie's balls with tape and secured them to his left thigh with several winds.

Just the thought of taking off that cocoon of sticky tape almost made Mavis ill. It might come off his cock okay, but she would bet that it would yank out every hair on his scrotum!

Mavis had little time to contemplate Willie Quentin's miserable predicament. Everything was swept from Willie's desk and she was yanked to her feet. "You bastard!" she managed to swear as she was slammed down on her back on the oak surface. She was slugged in the pit of the stomach and wind was slammed out of her. She was helpless, fighting for breath, as her wrists were taped to legs on opposite sides of the desk. The roll of tape passed over her body, Just at the navel, and around the desk several times. Three or four winds of the tape secured her ankles that were pushed high toward her face. It was secured there as the tape was wound around her arms above the elbows.

It was almost a relief to have her legs drawn up high as the edge of the desk had cut into her buttocks. Mavis started to scream, but her mouth was crushed shut and tape cemented her lips together.

"I think we got time for me to fuck her!" the only man who had spoken said. Through terror-filled eyes, Mavis saw the other two men nod.

The man shoved a gloved finger into her upturned groove, then wormed it
brutally into her vagina. "Go ahead and fuck her--and let's get out of here," one of the men finally broke his silence.

Mavis watched the man step up to her and drop his clothes and shorts. She stared at his tools, fearing he might remove the tape and stuff the pear-headed shaft into her mouth and down her throat as he brought it to full rigidity by jacking off with gloved hands. But he was only interested in shoving his ten-inch cock into her cunt and dropping his rocks deep in her fearful body.

She wretched and squirmed as his gloved thumbs pried the lips of her pussy wide and he socked his cock deep into her channel that was shrunken by fear. This was one session of sexual intercourse Mavis knew she wouldn't enjoy. While her assailant warped the prick to her snatch, one of the other men taped up her breasts. The gum of the tape drew on her flesh and skin and the pain was almost unbearable. She was only vaguely aware of her rapist's quickening thrusts--long and ruthless and fast. Then he shot a full load of boiling semen far up in her stretched swat.

"Tape!" he yelled triumphantly

Mavis raised her head as he withdrew his saber-cock and quickly taped up her crotch, running the binding from her asshole to her belly button. Then back and forth, sealing his cum in her snatch.

Her first thought was that with his cum plugged in her twat she would get PG, but she had taken The Pill regularly. All that could happen--the very worst--was having this foul rapist's jizz soaking in her pussy ...

[hamster2007]

Hysteria mounted, subsiding only after the three robbers had gone. Her discomfort, having her feet drawn high in the air and arms tied down the sides of Willie's desk, became dominant. She had the frightening sensation that she would be left like this, obscenely naked, her breasts and crotch painfully taped, until she died.

Willie was helpless. No matter how he struggled, the adhesive tape kept him harnessed to his chair. Mavis twisted her head to the right and stared at the grotesque mummy of his genitals. It must be very painful for him, she thought, having his hard cock bound up like that with wide strips of tape.

Time passed slowly. And Mavis drifted into a semiconscious state. Later, she was only vaguely aware of other people in Willie's office. She learned the next day that Connie had called the police when Willie didn't come home.

Police Lieutenant Henry Carr was there--he helped cut the tape bonds from her arms and legs and the strip that encompassed her body. There were other policemen, too. And Phil came as Hank wrapped a blanket around her nudity. He rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital where she was given a sedative before the tape was cut from her body. She was washed down with rubbing alcohol and put to bed. She was more asleep than awake when Phil told her that nurses had had to shave her pussy hair to remove the adhesive from her abused snatch.

She hadn't been aware of that, but had known when someone flushed out all of that cruel man's filthy semen. They had sprayed and perfumed her and that had felt good and cool and she wanted to sleep.

Her sleep was deep, but her mind played back, vividly like a full-color, three-dimensional movie, the past couple of weeks. Her mind focused immediately on that day when she came home from the store, the day Dell Emerson had accompanied her to help bring the groceries into the house.

Yes, that was when all of this horrible business started happening to her ...

[hamster2007]

Chapter 2

As Mavis preceded Dell Emerson through the vined arbor to the back door, she was conscious of his eyes on her rump that was snugly molded by tennis shorts. She knew men and she knew that the young law student's eyes were exploring her body as he carried the large box of groceries.

She juggled the two bottles of gin and mix to her left arm as she unlocked the door. She liked to look sexy, knowing she had a figure men liked looking at. And Phil Moran, her husband, liked for her to dress enticingly. He was almost embarrassingly proud of her sensuous appearance.

And Mavis liked men's eyes on her. She held the door open, glad to be out of the glaring sun, and let Dell into the large kitchen. She paused, perfectly still, listening to Dell put the box on the breakfast nook table. She frowned. There was that one brief chapter in her life she wished she could erase. There was that tormented interlude after college when she couldn't find a job. A lot of men's eyes had seen her body--not just in tennis shorts and skinny bra! They had let their lust-filled eyes rove over her absolute nudity! And, oh, the things she had let them do to her body! Some had been really, keenly good! Others had just used her for their animal pleasure. She wasn't resolutely
ashamed that she had been a prostitute for four months. It hadn't been so bad. And the money was good! But, she would never, never, ever tell Phil! That would just kill him and her marriage, probably!

She sensed that Dell's eyes were on her hips and thighs and slender back again. She lingered with her reverie for a minute longer. But a girl had to make ends meet--she had had that urgent student loan to pay off before they would let her have her diploma in economics.

It hadn't been too bad. In the four months, she had only taken on enough "clients" to meet her financial obligations. Hell! she pouted, turning and smiling at Dell, a lot of girls gave it away free to thirty men and boys--and she had earned almost twenty-five hundred dollars. And some of the older guys--the tender repeaters--had been real fun; they had taught her that sex-play was greater sport than the Super Bowl--and no broken bones. She almost giggled. She had crushed a few sex bones. Except, the memory sometimes almost broke her heart. Well, she had her hero. Phil! And she would never sell her body again!

"A drink, Dell? That's right, you have to go back to the store. How about a lemonade? It's all ready, in the frig."

"Okay," the tall stock clerk said, slipping into the nook.

Mavis inhaled deeply, lifting her full breasts for his admiration, as she handed him the frosty glass. His eyes never missed a ripple of supple muscles in her midriff and the haughty lift of her breasts. "I'm going to have a martini," she murmured, turning away from his eyes that had riveted on her crotch where the tight shorts outlined the full labia--the smile and crease. As she stirred, she sighed silently. She could have him. And, with Phil gone so much, an eager tail wagging around inside her would be scrumptious! But, she loved Phil too much to cheat, she told herself. Or did she? A healthy girl needs sexing ever so often.

No matter how much she needed a piece of male twang and a spot of nookey, it would take a helluva lot to get her on her back with legs kicked high for some other man's pleasure-stick! She sensed he was hot--aroused--she could almost smell his musky male aroma! She could have him--if she wanted! But, wasn't he going with Becky Samon? The young woman who worked as a typist at the Salt Lake City law office where Dell helped work up briefs, did research and got some practical legal training? She wondered, even though they were engaged, whether Dell was faithful and loyal to her.

She would bet that he was! Right now, he was extremely hard-up! She could smell the warm, sweet aroma of his genitals--and her excitement was increasing. But, she was resolute! She wouldn't let him seduce her and she wouldn't seduce him and cheat on Phil!

The fleshy curtains that protected her womanhood felt glued together and she didn't want to risk getting up, lest Dell see the telltale traces of honey seeping from her love cove! "Hadn't you better get back to the store?"

"Probably," Dell smiled, finishing his lemonade and sliding out of the booth.

After he had gone, she pouted over the possibility he had smelled her, too! She didn't want him to think of her as a cowardly female in heat! Afraid to skin out of her clothes and have a lusty sex romp while her husband was away. Mavis almost cried. She did need her cove explored. She shivered with sexual misery. If Dell had just made the gesture, she just knew she couldn't have resisted; she would have flopped over, flung her feet into the air and spread her milky thighs wide. She wouldn't have resisted one iota as he presented his manhood to her. She would have let him take her--and she would have taken him! She fluttered and burned and itched all through her loins. She needed it! She needed a man!

"Phil!" she cried. She had heard many men say it, now she yelled it herself ... "I need fuckin'!"

She finished the pitcher of martinis and glanced fuzzily around the elaborate kitchen. The gin had hit her very hard, after a couple of hours of tennis with Connie Quentin and being out in the hot sun. And the alcohol did nothing to cool the sensual urge that was coursing through her veins.

[hamster2007]

Mavis almost wished Willie Quentin, Connie's husband, would call her in to clerk that evening at the local supermarket where she sometimes substituted for regular help. The prospect of spending another evening of solitude without Phil was depressing. Would he be home tonight? He had said he was going to Cheyenne, Wyoming, on some kind of big burglary. That was three days ago and he hadn't even called!

She let her fingers graze the hard tips of her breasts. He hadn't even given her a little the night before he left. After three years of marriage, was his love and passion for her ebbing? The thought frightened her. She knew she was just as desirable as when he had married her. And her passion hadn't cooled, in fact, it seemed even snore volatile and explosive. As a matter of fact, her preoccupation with sex lately worried her. Was she--could she--turn into a nymph? She had read case histories about women who couldn't get enough intercourse. She often thought some of the symptoms paralleled her own feelings of lust.

Hadn't she seriously considered--if only briefly--an affair with Dell Emerson? Oh, she had found it not too difficult to resist making the initial overture toward the bedroom. But the cozy prospects of being fondled and laid had their stimulating allure. She had the physical evidence it was so ... Her crotch was sticky--hot with passion and her vulva and vagina seemed on fire!

Clumsily, Mavis eased out of the breakfast nook. Her tapering thighs were like jelly and she was surprised her long legs supported her. With both hands on the tabletop, she steadied herself. Each movement seemed to agitate the sensuous torment in her loins. She shook her head and smiled faintly. It was a good thing Dell had gone before she finished the martinis! She needed it so bad right then she would have flopped for the Quentins' gardener--black as he was!

Suddenly, a vivid picture of one of her "clients" flashed through her mind. He always liked her down on all-fours, dog-fashion. The memory was so sharp and keen she could almost feel his penis gliding in and out of her vagina, his fingers gripping her flanks at the hip bones and hauling her body back, smooth cheeks of her ass pounding against his hairy belly as he speared his long, thick penis deep into her passion-juiced uterus.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. Was she sex crazy? Unsteadily, Mavis
wandered into the huge living room and pulled the drapes. With her mind and body in turmoil, she flopped on the divan, breathing heavily. Phil wouldn't call; she just knew he wouldn't. And she would be alone another night. Sure, she knew several people, but they were Phil's friends. They had been his friends long before they were married.

Unhappily, she thought about them--positive they weren't interested in inviting her over alone without Phil. Connie and Willie Quentin knew she was by herself. So did Miriam and Henry Carr. But it might be more difficult for the Carrs to entertain her. He was a police lieutenant and his hours were as irregular as Phil's. And she hardly knew Terry and Mickey Lewis. They were fairly new to the neighborhood. Mickey had just taken the position as basketball coach at the local high school. So, who else was there? You could bet that Dell and Becky wouldn't want to sit with a married woman they knew only slightly--not when they could be at a drive-in movie necking and petting. She had the intuitive feeling they weren't making out, that Becky was saving her cherry for her husband on their wedding night.

Mavis could barely keep her fanny from bouncing; nerves kept sparking deep in her innards. God! how she needed relief! Resolutely, she turned to her right slightly and skidded the zipper on the side of her shorts and freed the button. Well, she wouldn't go hunting for a stud to service her. She drew her feet up and worked her shorts and moist panties down past her knees. Delicately, she combed her fingers through the rich pubic growth that was long and thick over her mound and fanned nearly to her navel.

"Ooooooh, goooood!" she sighed. Without even feeling, she knew the pleasure thorn had poked out of its fleshy sheath, tingly and hot. She had never made a practice of playing with her monkey, but it sure needed petting now! Mavis had never felt any regrets after masturbating, but she did it on rare occasions. She drew her feet up until the heels were against her buttocks; she fanned her knees and tense thighs wide. She wanted to live a clean, straight life, loving her husband and caring for her home. So, a little playing with her pussy wouldn't hurt anything--not nearly as much as taking on some man while Phil was away. He probably would understand her masturbating, but would never forgive her for adultery.

Mavis knew that the seat of pleasure lay just inside the fatty folds of flesh just below the pulpy mound across her pelvis. But she would prolong the enjoyment, now that she had committed herself to sexing herself. Slowly, delicately, she stroked her fingers up and down the inner planes of her thighs. "Ooooooh," she moaned as muscles jerked and nerves sparked. She used her thumbs to press the thick lips together over the clitoris and the aching opening to the vagina. She was so drenched with passion, she knew stroking the firm flesh of her crotch could make her cum. But she fought off the building thunder in her loins. She wanted lightning to strike at the same time--and that would come only when she parted the full lips and stroked a hand in the wet groove and crammed two or three fingers of the other hand into her greedy hole. The seething and boiling in her channel was reaching a
tempestuous pitch.

After a slow rake of sharp nails along her thighs, she used the fingers of both hands to spread the labia wide. Almost brutally, she worked her bunched fingers into her vagina. Then she attacked the clit and upper part of the furrow with her other hand. Furiously, stroking up and down, raking the thorny clit harshly.

There was a pounding of drums in her head, and thunder and lightning were cascading together in long rolls in her insides. She was cumming! Faster and faster her hands flew--up and down in the vulva, in and out of her cunny. She was having it! She was cummmmmmmmmmmmmmmiiiiiiiinnnnng!

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh, God!" she whimpered as the waves of passionate splendor
washed through her like high tide. She was buffeted and battered by tremendous shock waves of masturbatory satisfaction.

As her heartbeat started returning to normal, after the lightning retreated into her uterus and the thunder grew still, she slowly opened her eyes, still clutching her snatch with both hands.

And stared into the smug amused face of Miriam Carr. Shame flashed through her--but there was no sign of ridicule in Miriam's hazel eyes. Just faint, lively amusement. Mavis was starkly aware of her obscene posture, knees scissored up, thighs spanned wide, hands dug into her pussy--and Miriam peering at her. Tears blurred Mavis' eyes--and still she lay perfectly still, as if paralyzed.

"You poor darling," Miriam murmured, kneeling beside Mavis and placing one cool hand between Mavis' heaving, jutting breasts and another on Mavis' feverish hands clutched in her sex saddle.

"What a delightful, exciting performance!" Miriam cooed, slowly pushing one of Mavis' hands aside and fingering her own into the upper expanse of vulva that was slicked with female sex honey. Mavis' tense ass bucked uncontrollably as Miriam teased the moist furrow and deftly pinched the fading clit back to full erection.

Mavis wanted to sob and writhe away, but Miriam was doing things to her, again arousing her to a feverish pitch. The muscles in her flat belly spasmed and tightened as Miriam continued to masturbate her slowly, then faster and faster.

Mavis was panting in short gasps of passion, her free hand sliding up under her skimpy halter to clutch a breast melon. "Oh, God!" she whined and moaned as Miriam brought her out. She felt she was being turned inside out down there where her own hand was diving deeper and deeper into her boiling, roiling cunt. Her torso was bucking and plunging, naked ass humping up for full pleasure from her own inserted hand and Miriam's agile fingers. "I'm cumming!" she yelled triumphantly, no thought of shame, as her innards exploded into a violent orgasm that nearly left her unconscious.

[hamster2007]

She was only vaguely aware of Miriam leaving her as her sex-saturated body trembled and began returning to normal once again. She opened her eyes to see Miriam standing over her with a couple of drinks.

"You poor darling," Miriam repeated softly' helping Mavis sit up and cradling her in one arm. "Drink the gin and tonic, honey."

Mavis sipped gratefully, all but unmindful of her naked lower extremes. Right then she didn't care if Miriam gazed at her hairy tummy and snatch. She didn't care that Miriam had seen her playing with herself--had helped her masturbate. She had had relief that she had needed so urgently. She couldn't sort out her emotions; tell whether the two self-induced orgasms were comparable to those she got from a huge cock working in and out of her pussy, or not.

"Thank you, Miriam," Mavis murmured, sipping the strong drink.

"You aren't getting all you crave from Phil, are you?" Miriam suggested slyly. "You two aren't making it so good in the sex department, are you? How long has it been since he gave you a good lovin'?"

"More than a week," Mavis cried softly, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks and trickling off her chin into the deep cleavage between her firm, feverish titties.

She liked the feel of Miriam's fingers under her arm, squeezing the ridge of her breast. "I feel so awful!" Mavis finally blurted, clenching her thighs over her naked, hairy crotch. The thick, blandish mat was soaking wet from her passion and perspiration.

"Sometimes, husbands and wives need a change of partners to make them
more appreciative of their own marriages."

In spite of the liquor, Mavis' senses sharpened. What was Miriam hinting at? A thought was building in the back of her mind, emerging solidly from something she had merely sensed in the past. Phil's friends were swingers! Mate-swappers! Miriam, subtly, was proposing that she and Phil engage in the growing pastime of jumping from bed to bed! Oh, no! Were the Quentins involved? Somehow, she knew they were! And how many other couples in the neighborhood? People that she and Phil didn't even cultivate socially.

"What are you saying, Miriam?" Mavis queried, making her tone absent and disinterested.

"I am sure that I could rekindle Phil's interest in you--the guys talk--and Hank has said several times he is concerned about your physical and mental well-being. Besides that, honey, he has all the equipment and know-how to please a girl. And we women know better than men how important it is to our lives to get rid of those deep passion-pressures so we can be relaxed and serene."

Mavis gulped half of her drink and trembled as if a sudden chill was numbing her body. She looked down at her nudity, panties and tennis shorts around her ankles. "Oh, no, Miriam!"

"Sometimes, it is a big step toward saving marriages--it keeps them from becoming stagnated and dull," Miriam said confidently.

Mavis felt in a state of shock. She didn't even bother to haul up her clothes to cover her nudity while Miriam went to mix two more drinks. Could she do it with Henry Carr? Her thinking had never dwelled sharply on what it would be like to undress and crawl into bed with one of hers and Phil's neighbors and fuck. And she had never considered that Phil would lay another woman. She just couldn't imagine her husband pouring his meat into another woman's snatch.

Miriam's free hand was on her naked thigh, like a hot iron on her quivering flesh. It was like a daytime nightmare! Miriam was very serious and intent about swapping husbands. And the way she talked, Mavis was certain Henry was all for it! How would Phil react?

She sat very still as Miriam rose, kissed her cool forehead. "Think it over, sweet. Talk it over with Phil when he gets home. I feel certain you will see it my way--for the best of all of us. If you should lean toward the negative, I'll try another method of persuasion--and I am sure it will work!"

Mavis sensed an ominous note in Miriam's tone.

[hamster2007]

Chapter 3

Mavis, purposely, had left it dark all through the house, had sequestered herself in the master bedroom that she shared with Phil--when he was home.

After Miriam had stolen from the house, Mavis had taken a long, hot bath, soaking for nearly an hour. She had powdered and perfumed her body, yet a taint seemed to linger in her flesh. Completely sober now, she knew what it was. The memory of her masturbation and having Miriam walk in and assist her into a second orgasm left a dark thought crashing through her mind. Shame and embarrassment gnawed at her. Another thing, as she considered it as objectively as possible, was Miriam's parting comment about being able to persuade her to agree to mate-swapping. She had been right at the time ... There was something callous and threatening in her voice!

Surely, just having seen her playing with her pussy for needed relief wasn't enough to give Miriam a lever to compel her to consent to sleep around with other men! What the hell! A lot of women whose husbands weren't available masturbated. And not just with their fingers, either! She had read the books. And she had seen some of the tools that were available--some of the girls in college had them--dildoes--and used them regularly, nightly!

Mavis wished that Phil would call, and she didn't. What would she say to him? Could she talk about Miriam's open proposal that they swap husbands? Over the telephone? It might be easier than having Phil in the same room with her. On the other hand, if he were present, she could study his expression and compare it with his comments.

The thought of having Henry Carr or Willie Quentin riding in her sex saddle and banging her cunt with their cocks should have nurtured total revulsion in her mind--but there was an aura of excitement mingled with questioning apprehension about it!

"Oh, damn!" Mavis swore softly, deeply tormented. How could she tell Phil, she wondered miserably, sitting down before the vanity mirror, wearing nothing but panties. As she slowly brushed her long, blonde hair, tears fell from her blue eyes onto her gorgeous boobies. Would Phil understand? Would he be furious? Maybe, he knew about their friends already!

Maybe her husband had already sampled the love wares of Miriam and Connie Quentin! And she was just being set up for a complete Mardi Gras of mate-switching! The thought was slightly repulsive to her.

But she and Phil hadn't been so hot in bed; their lives hadn't been exactly a bowl of passionate porridge lately! But she hadn't realized all of the signs were there for other people to read so easily.

Mavis waggled her taut, trim fanny around on the dressing bench to ease the twitchy-itch in her rich crotch. Phil hadn't given her a full ration of peter for more than a week. And her appetite for man-meat was getting to the point where she needed a lot of it and one as big as a horse!

Even though the experience had been distasteful she forced herself to reflect on it. Miriam, with sandy hair and large hazel eyes, after helping her masturbate, had looked right at her and brought it right out that she knew she and Phil weren't "making it so good."

And they weren't making it!--not in the bedroom, on the sofa in the living room, in the shower standing up, in the tub lying down, in the back seat of their shiny Buick or in the patio or on the back lawn after dark. Mavis started crying harder. She needed her husband to make love to her--not other men in the neighborhood. Oh, how she gloried in having his big bone buried in her swat! And she needed him so much she felt she could just make sausage out of his pecker. For a moment, she had the aching sensation she could use any he-meat--young or old!

Her sense of shame deepened. How could she contemplate surrendering her
body--her pussy to another man's cock, her breasts and lips to another man's mouth? The brief episode of her life, before she was married and had taken men's lustful bodies between her thighs, sex stumps in her cavern, was blotted from her mind. Her brief tenure as a prostitute didn't count now. She didn't remember she had taken their thumping cocks deep in her pussy almost as eagerly as she had taken their money.

Mavis was aware that the double ply of her scanty skivvies had wedged into the tight smile of her vulva and was agitating her again. She finished brushing her hair and strolled restlessly around the bedroom. She paused at a window and cautiously parted the drapes and peered out across the dark back yard. It was after ten o'clock. A light was on in the den of the Quentin residence. The Carr home was blacked out.

She opened the window slightly and strained to listen. There was faint music wafting on the still night air. Mavis quickly concluded it was emanating from the Quentin home. She stared a moment longer and worked the drapes back together. Was it possible the Quentins and Carrs were swinging--had swapped mates and actually were engaging in orgiastic fucking in the same room? Her heart hammered violently as her mind conjured up a lewd spectacle of the four naked people twisted in lewd knots, each screwing the other's marital partner.

"Oh, damn!" she whined, pouting and falling over backwards on the huge double bed. Why did such thoughts start her blood racing, heart palpitating madly? She DID NOT want to engage in such adulterous behavior.

She touched her bare breasts gently and found the aching dainty nipples fully extended to the point of exploding. She caressed a hand downward, fingering the thick mesh that adorned her pubic region. She found her crotch was like a bed of live embers, nearly torrid enough to sear her fingertips.

[hamster2007]

Mavis closed her eyes and worked her hand under the band of her panties
and cupped her luscious mound. She had no qualms, then about masturbating again. She closed her mind to the embarrassing incident of Miriam catching her. Delicately, she plowed a finger into the smile and waggled it until the thick petals unfolded in a broad bloom.

"Oooooooooohhhhhhhhh!" she moaned, working the finger up and down the
long, slick, hot rut, gouging it deep into her vagina, sliding back to the top of the furrow again. "Eeeeeiiiii," she panted, feet planted far apart, heels dug into the bed, frenzied ass bumping and grinding as she whipped her hand back and forth in her snatch, rapidly soaring toward an orgasm.

Just as she slammed into it, fingers buried in her cunt, thumb prodding her stinging clit, the telephone rang. The sound did nothing to deaden her erotic pleasure. A hand left her boobies and reached for the instrument. Still savoring the sweet, sugary blasts of her orgasm deep in her cock-channel, she gained control of her breathing.

"Hello?"

"This is Phil," the voice sparkled over the wire.

"I--wish--you--were--here!" Mavis blurted, clutching her passion-greased snatch. "Why haven't you called before?"

"Been to places where there are no phones, baby," Phil laughed. Then she sensed a frown in his voice. "Anything wrong? Is everything all right?"

Mavis refrained from speaking for a moment as the firecrackers stopped blasting in her swat. "I'm not sure." Then a boldness crept into her mind. "Miriam made a bizarre and startling proposal today." Before he could interrupt, the words cascaded from Mavis' lips, "She suggested we join her and Henry in mate-swapping!"

"The hell!" Phil whistled and Mavis couldn't read in his voice whether he was for it or against it.

"She said," Mavis forced herself to giggle, "that it stimulates marriage. Can you imagine?"

She was waiting for his condemnation of the proposal, but all he said was, "We'll talk about it when I get home in about four days." And he hung up.

Was he in favor of screwing some other woman and having his own wife fucked by another man? God! She couldn't tell from his terse comments.

Mavis' slumber was troubled and restless. She dreamed over and over that her husband was slipping between her veed thighs--but just as he was about to glide his big, hard cock into her pussy, she opened her eyes and saw the faces of Willie Quentin and Henry Carr and Dell Emerson and Mickey Lewis, the basketball coach who had moved into the neighborhood such a short time before. Their eyes were hot and wild and lewd and they fucked her, one after the other. And Phil was watching, as were Miriam and Connie. And she saw him fucking them!

She wakened, gratefully, to the persistent jangle of the telephone. It was Miriam Carr--and it was nearly ten o'clock in the morning. Miriam suggested she come over for mid-morning coffee. After the nettlesome dreams, Mavis was almost elated to receive an invitation to do something--get out of the lonely house. Gone from her mind was the dream of Connie and Miriam watching her being diddled by their husbands.

"You woke me and I'm glad, Miriam!" Mavis laughed shakily. "Just give me about half an hour for a quick shower and time to throw on some clothes!"

After showering and briskly drying her opulent body, Mavis quickly selected a snowy mini-bra and matching bikini panties. She hummed softly as she shimmied her firm fanny into the briefs. Leaning forward slightly, she adjusted the half-cups over the proud prominence of her cone-shaped boobies. "Aaaaaaahthh," she sighed with pleasure as the cool laciness snuggled against her smooth flesh that was still tingling from the shower and brisk toweling.

She slipped into a light linen blouse that buttoned up the front. With a faint smile of satisfaction she inspected her reflection. The blouse displayed the deep cleft between her breasts in a low-cut vee. Then she stepped into a miniskirt and zipped it up the back. The hem struck her at mid-thigh, showing lots of creamy leg.

Before slipping through the gate of the high, chain-link fence, Mavis paused to peer at the lofty, rugged Wasatch Mountains that ringed the Utah capital to the east. They were mysterious, foreboding and beautiful. Then she hurried on to the Carrs' home. The faraway reverberation of chimes had barely died away and Miriam opened the back door.

"Come in, neighbor," Miriam smiled warmly. "Connie will be along pretty soon. We had a kind of wild little party last night and she has a slight hangover."

Mavis sat down at the kitchen table, aware of a tight, nervous feeling, a fluttering tension in her womb. Had she been right? Had the Quentins and the Carts had a little swap party last night? Would she and Phil have been invited if Phil hadn't been in Wyoming on an insurance case? The thought was naughtily exciting and frightening at the same time. Phil, on the telephone, had given her no clue how he would have reacted under such circumstances.

She didn't protest as Miriam laced their coffee with brandy and took a chair opposite her. "Have you thought about our conversation yesterday afternoon, Mavis?"

A tightness in her chest made breathing a little difficult and the tips of her breasts felt icy. "A little," she said, voice slightly choked. "Phil called last night and ..." she paused to sip the brandy and coffee ... "I mentioned it to him."

"Well?"

"He didn't say much," Mavis hedged, not wanting to meet Miriam's excited, glinting eyes. "I don't know," she muttered. "Oh, Miriam, I'm not sure it's right--swapping, letting some other woman's husband do it to you ..." Words failed.

"Crap!" Miriam laughed brightly. "He isn't just doing it to you, you're getting your jollies from him! Like I said, it adds spice to life and enriches your own marriage. It makes husband and wife appreciate each other that much more!"

Mavis wasn't convinced; her mind was still assailed by doubt. Had Miriam had Willie Quentin in bed with her last night while her own husband was diddling Connie? Maybe, as she had speculated last night, they had swapped and fucked right in the den!

[LentorGarden]

Copy and paste?

[Niceman]

No standard leh, like that I also can start 100 treads anytime

[hamster2007]

Sorry bro, it's just some stories I am sharing. I am not asking for anything.

Just wanted to offer some alternative that's all.

If bro here don't like it than I will stop.

Cheers.