Carolina's Caper

Linda ran to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water and I reclined on the bed on one elbow, once again to experience a flagging dick. But she was soon back, after cleaning the spit off her tits, and crept toward me on all fours, looking at me as if she were ready to devour me. I was glad she'd drunk some water, clearing her mouth of her husband's saliva, because she tasted ultra sweet as she lay on me and entwined her limbs with mine, squishing her satiny breasts against my chest. In a minute I was hard again and she'd enveloped my dick between her closed thighs, moving them up and down so that my shaft massaged her clit and her wiry pubic hair teased at my glans. She lifted her head, breaking a smothering kiss, spread her legs over my hips, and placed my cock at her opening. Her eyes shone with lust as she wiggled a bit to seat me properly, then slid herself down onto me suddenly, moaning, "Ooohhh, Gawwd, yeeaah, Riiick!" She then fastened her lips to my neck, sucking hard, and began thrusting up and down with my shaft between her legs, grinding it against her vulva. Her hips hammered against me as, in effect, the top of my cock masturbated her to a scalding climax. I tried to move, thinking I'd enhance her pleasure, but she shouted, "Hold stiiilll!" and clutched at me, scratching at my shoulders and chest until she was finished. My neck stung where she'd "hickied" me, and for obvious reasons I decided at that moment to wear turtlenecks the following week.

"You're too much, babe!" Jim cried, as she lay panting on my chest. "Those'll be great shots!"

The absurdity of the situation hit me and I almost giggled. Instead, though, I rolled us over and began taking long missionary strokes into Linda. She raised her legs in the classic upright pose, bent at the knee, and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me closely to her and mewling as we kissed lightly. "Mmmmm," she murmured, as I started my deep thrusts. Her eyes were half open, looking into mine, and revealed extreme bliss as my iron-like rod probed her wet vagina from labia to cervix. "Mmmmm," she moaned again, licking wetly at my open, panting mouth. I'd reached a point that I sometimes do in lovemaking when I'm not sure I can cum at all. No matter, I thought, she's matching each of my strokes with thrusts of her own. Not only that, but she kept lifting her legs higher, backward to her breasts. Soon I raised myself and she astounded me with her limberness, tucking her anklesunderneathher upper arms and shoulders, allowing me ample access to piercing her womb. I increased my pace, driving forward, down actually, and she was yelping constantly, like a young puppy, each time I plumbed her heated depths.

Jim was behind me now, worrying me a bit. I kept hearing his camera snap as he was very close, capturing shots of his wife's rapturous face from between my legs as I drilled into her. His breathless photographer's voice kept saying, "Great!...great!...wow!" as the motor drive whirred away.

Linda then looked up at me, her eyes glazed with frantic lust and brow furrowed worriedly, and she mouthed, almost silently, "Ohh, cumming! Cumming! Cumming! Ohh, fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" and her legs broke from under her shoulders and flew down to grasp me around my driving buttocks. Her ankles locked behind my plunging hips and her body began thrashing about like a rag doll, with her hands and arms clutching uncontrollably at both me and air. At the peak of her orgasm she screamed deafeningly for about 10 seconds, causing the walls to ring with her echoes. I slowed down, in deference to her paralyzing joy, and stirred her gently for another minute or so until she was able to breathe deeply, at which point her ankles broke their lock behind me and her legs lolled exhaustively at my thighs. Her head, turned slightly toward her husband – who was still taking photographs as he stood next to the bed – showed a girlish, closed-eyed peace that I'd not seen before on her beautiful face.

At that point Jim dropped his pants to reveal a splendid, curved erection, and he teased his near-comatose wife's lips with it. Without opening her eyes, she took him in her mouth and lay there as he systematically fucked her throat until he blew what I assume was quite a load. She swallowed it unflinchingly, without spilling a drop. I'd pulled out of the woman, granting to her husband his consensual marital right, and had sat in a nearby chair to witness the strange event...an unlikely picture, since my erect cock and balls had still not spilled their seed and I felt a trifle alone.

Jim was sitting in another chair, reloading his camera again, and had apparently finished tending to his wife since she'd sucked him off. Linda was now lying on her tummy, languishing in the peace of a sated woman, for a while at least. She asked Jim softly, "Honey? Drinks?"

"Sure!" he bubbled. "Rick?" I shook my head in the negative. "Linda?"

"Grand Marnier, please...a big one!" she said. Jim went to the kitchen and she murmured to me, "I'm so glad you joined us. That wasphenomenal. Can you stay the night?"

"Maybe some other time, Linda," I said. "I'm still feeling my way around."

"Okay," she said softly, acceptingly, as would any good psychologist. "I understand."

I'm not sure you do, I thought. I felt like an animal performing at a zoo. For a brief moment I flashed on recent memories of the extremely tender intimacies that Carolina and I had shared...until I'd fucked that up because of my God-damned libido, with this...this, New Age married whore. A "contract" indeed... .

"Here ya go," Jim said, handing his wife a huge snifter of the strong orange brandy as he settled into his chair.

Before I could rise and make my excuses to leave – which Linda no doubt sensed – she asked, "Rick, c'mere for a second," and I stood, walking limp-dicked toward her reclining form. She reached over and placed the top of her snifter around my hanging prick, dipping it into the thick, burning, liquor. I flinched, and she said, "Oooh, sorry," and leaned forward to take my sensitive barb into her velvety mouth again. For many seconds she sucked it clean of the orange liquid, reminding me of what an imaginative Vietnamese prostitute had done years before with a frosty mug of Heineken. The heat of her mouth, of course, caused me to postpone my departure.

Chuckling, the enthusiastic Jim then tossed a large black dildo on the bed with a tube of lubricating jelly. "Linda likes this up her ass," he confided, winking at me as if to share a male bonding secret.

Linda had gotten up on all fours. "Do me like a dog, Rick...or should I call you Ricky?" she asked, pointedly and smiling indirectly, indicating that she might know more about my intimacies with Carolina than I'd previously thought. Was this a competitive thing? I wondered. How could she know of such private matters? Am I just being paranoid?

Paranoid or not, Linda was tempting me again...and I complied with her request. I lubed the dildo quickly, and set it aside on a ledge next to the bed. She lifted her left leg, pulling it forward to splay her gaping pink slit, and leaned on her elbows, looking down between her legs to see my scrotum swing toward her as I teased her lips. Jim snapped her grimacing, contorted features as I teased her inner lips with my cock. "Both of you are freaks," I finally said as I pushed into her, losing my prick to the balls in her hot cunt.

"Yeah...and you love it...huuuhhh," she gasped as I drilled her deeply. "C'mon...put that...big black thing...in my ass," she begged, beginning to hum with delight as I drilled her. I slid the latex probe into her quite easily, given its ample length. For such a small woman, her colon was remarkably large...and flexible, much like her pussy. Linda had become so practiced at fucking over the years that she worked her vagina like a professional. Her muscles, it seemed, could accommodate any penis, from that of a small boy to that of an elephant...without giving pause to either. I honestly felt as if I'd met my match that night...at least insofar as American women were concerned.

Her husband, Jim, spent the rest of the time snapping pictures of his wife, especially when she was climaxing, and was surprised when I finally had an orgasm. I'd withdrawn the dildo from her ass and replaced it with my own member, sawing away and feeling next to nothing as I flicked her clit so that she could have another orgasm. My heart wasn't in it. Jim exhorted me on for a "money shot," but I couldn't do it. I became tired and a little bored. It was only after Linda cleaned me off with a warm washcloth and licked me hard again, very gently, and tit-fucked me, that I closed my eyes and covered her with a monumental load of semen. Both she and her photographer husband took particular delight at me coating her hair, face, breasts and belly with my load as I straddled her lovely torso.

I left at about midnight, with their pleas for me to stay over ringing in my ears. But I was happy to repair to my own bed and, the next day, reflect on what had happened. I concluded that I could never become a sexual exhibitionist. I was bad in front of an audience. I also missed the sweetness of coupling with Carolina.

Part 7

The grotesque affair with Linda continued for months. It was in the Fall of '71 and she'd gone to Philadelphia for a week, acting as the institute's representative at a conference of State and Federal educators. Just a day before she was to return, I received a call from her. "Rick, last night I had some trouble," she said, her voice quavering slightly. "I was raped...in a parking lot...outside the restaurant where I've been eating," she confessed, finishing in a sob. I'd never imagined that Linda would...or could...cry about anything. We'd nearly been caught a half-dozen times, fucking in restrooms, in the public garage where we parked our cars, on the roof of the office building, and on each occasion she'd merely laughed hysterically...being incredibly turned on – it seemed – rather than seeking relief in tears as would many women.

I was shocked and asked, "Have you called Jim?"

"Yes," she said, "...with just a few details. "We decided that I shouldn't go to the police. If it got out, it could ruin our plans."

Jeezus, I thought, incredulously. You've been raped and you're worried about the impact on your husband's future political career? "Are you all right, Linda...physically, I mean?"

"Mmm, yeah...a little bruised," she said. "I'm flying back today," she sighed nervously. "Could you come with Jim to the airport to meet me?" she asked. "He's so unprepared. It'll give him strength. He looks up to you, you know."

I was appalled, but held my tongue. He'sun-pre-pared? He's been quite prepared to fill nearly two albums with pictures of you and me fucking our brains out, I thought. "Of course I'll go with him," I assured her, wondering if she were still in emotional shock. "Shall I phone him now?"

"Yes, please," she said. "He's too proud to call and ask you, of course," she admitted.

What planet are these people from? I wondered. We hung up with my mind racing. A three minute call to Jim established the time when he'd pick me up. When I saw him I realized that Linda had been correct. He was so manic that all he could do was giggle nervously as he explained the negative superficial effects his wife's experience could have on their professional future. But, apparently, he trusted me blindly, as did Linda, since she'd begun making noises about continuing her adulterous relationship with me even after Jim graduated law school and passed the Bar. She'd also become uncomfortably possessive of me regarding other women, seeming determined to keep me apart from temptation by using her astounding physical stamina and lewd imagination, which knew no bounds.

Linda hugged and kissed us both at the airport. Jim retrieved her bags while she and I got the car and picked him up at curbside. As he got behind the wheel, she said to him, "Honey, I want to sit in back with Rick...and maybe take a nap, okay?" He didn't object. I got the feeling that, though able to drive, we were being spirited home by a ten-year-old. Linda seemed relaxed, though, curling up under my protective arm and falling asleep on the way home while her hot little hand lay on my crotch. When we arrived at their place, she begged me to stay the night with them. It wasn't the first time that Jim and I had sandwiched his wife in slumber as the three of us shared their king-sized marriage bed. This night our sharing was, of course, sexless, given Linda's trauma of the night before.

The next morning I left both of them sleeping and went directly to the office. Much to my surprise, an early call came through from – of all people – Carolina Brown...calling from Philadelphia. "Hiiii, Rickeeey," she cooed into the phone. "Been a long time, shug-aah," she murmured, rekindling in me an immediate sensuous response below the belt.

"Carolina! God, I've missed you!" I blurted out, without hesitation. My anger with her for trying to mess up my project had faded to an unpleasant, though understandable, memory.

"Really, babeeey?" she sang. "Well, maybe I'll come out an' see y'all. Do ya really miss me?"

"You betcha," I said. "Why are you calling from Philly?"

"Here for the big conference," she responded. "Saw your little friend, what's her name?...Linda?" she asked, playing for effect. Of course she knew Linda's name.

"Uh-huh," I said, guardedly.

"Yeah-uhh. Didn't really spend any time together," she explained. "Just light conversation. We were runnin' in different crowds. Ate at the same place, though," she admitted.

"Good conference?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah...okay," she said. "Ya know, Rick, that woman's sick...sick in the head. Understand she had a little trouble coupla nights ago, too!"

"Really!" I said, playing dumb.

"Mmm-hmm. Some low lifes grabbed her in the parkin' lot," she said, then waited for my response.

"Yeah?" I countered, waiting for Carolina to continue.

"You watch yourself, Rickeey," she warned. "That broad'srealsick...'specially now...in more ways than one!"

"What do you mean, Carolina?" I probed, anxious to hear her side of Linda's plight. What wasn't she telling me?

"Listen, darlin', I gotta go now," she said. "I'll phone ya next week from my office in Dee-troit."

"Okay. Thanks for calling, Carolina," I said, and hung up, determined to quiz Linda after work. Toward the end of the day I called her, asked how she felt, told her I was dropping by, and showed up to her open arms. She'd slept half the day, and Jim was sequestered in his study.

"I want the whole story," I said, pouring myself a drink, which had become a habit when I was in their home.

"I ran into Carolina...several times," she said. "Finally, we had a cat fight in a woman's restroom...over you. We screamed at each other. We also happened to eat at the same restaurant, on several nights, though at separate tables."

"And?" I asked, knowing that this was just prefatory.

"Well...night before last...on the nightithappened, I'd had some wine and gone to the restroom before leaving. When I came out the cabs taking our crowd to the hotel had all gone," she said.

"Mmm-hmm," I said, implicitly demanding more.

"Well, I walked out, asked the maitre d' to call another cab, and he said one would be there in ten minutes," she said. "Then, I walked around the corner, into the parking lot, to have a cigarette." Linda smoked occasionally, when she was drinking. "Then, two guys grabbed me – one black, one white – and dragged me into a van in the parking lot."

Jim walked in to join us. "Hey, Rick!" he saluted.

"Jim," I acknowledged. "I've asked Linda for all the details."

"Oh, good," he said. "I had a couple of classes today and she went to the doctor, so I haven't heard 'em either."

Once again I was shocked at the skewed priorities of this modern American couple. "Do you feel okay talking about this?" I asked her.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "The doctor – who's a good friend, by the way, very discreet – gave me some Valium after taking some smears and blood samples. I'll be okay," she said, calmly, with dilated pupils. She was wearing a heavy, fisherman-knit sweater with a turtleneck and tight blue jeans. She tucked her lovely legs beneath her and started again to speak.

"I'm gonna get another drink," I said. "Anyone else?"

"Please...a glass of red wine," Linda said. Jim shook his head in refusal.

"Describe the men," I told her.

"Mmm...tall, heavily muscled...thirties, long hair. Like I said, one black, one white. Each had black tattoos," she said.

I'd heard somewhere that black tattoos were indicative of men who'd had them done in prison.

"One stuck a bandana in my mouth, opened my coat, ripped open my blouse and knelt on my shoulders and arms," Linda continued. "I'll show you the bruises. The other lifted my skirt and ripped off my panties and pantyhose."

"In the van," I said, for clarification.

"Right. And what's so strange is...," she continued, "is that it went so...so smoothly...it's almost as if they did it for a living. I mean, they had a mattress, there were no windows in the van, and they worked like a...like a team," she said, shuddering and gulping half of her glass.

I tried to picture a "smooth" rape. Jim said nothing, but began nervously to rub his fists, first with one open hand, then the other. "What then?" I asked, not really wanting to hear the worst.

"The white guy took me first," Linda related. "He was big and rough. The black guy held both my legs back at the start, then let go of one and the white guy took it, laughing and telling me to hold it myself. The black guy then jacked himself, milking stuff into my mouth...as thick as toothpaste. It tasted awful. Then the white guy came in me and they switched. The black guy came on my face, then they took me at the same time, with the black guy in my ass."

Jim got up and started pacing nervously. "Bastards!" he muttered. "Sonsabitches!"

Since Jim had seen other men service his wife in a variety of ways, apparently his current objection lay primarily in Linda's violation being non-consensual.

"Was that it?" I asked.

"Yeah, other than a little forced cocksucking to get them up when they needed it," she said.

"Did you try to scream when you weren't gagged?" I asked.

"No," she said, quietly. "They told me they'd kill me if I did."

"Then what?" I asked.

"Then they opened the side door, pushed me out, and drove away," she said. "The license plate was covered. It was dark so I couldn't even see the color of the van...dark blue, maybe."

Jim was now covering his face with his hands, sitting on a footstool. "Did you cum?" he whispered, the question rendering me incredulous.

"Jim! Of course not!" Linda said, archly. "It was horrible!"

I felt sick to my stomach. "And you're absolutely against telling the police...or anyone other than me...and your doctor," I said. By now, of course, it would be too late to report the crime.

"If we did, we could be ruined," Jim said, and Linda nodded, in apparent agreement.

"And you're our closest friend, Rick," she said. "We...love you...as much as a married couple can!"

"Okay,friends," I said, exaggerating the point. "Give me some time to think about this...and come up with some conditions of my own. Right now, given that it's Friday night, I'm gonna get drunk...and stoned! Break out the dope, Linda, I've gotta process all this weirdness."

I got wasted, and spent the night on their couch. I was awakened by Linda in the middle of the night, who was covering me with a blanket in the dark. Apparently Jim had gone to bed. She knelt next to the sofa and kissed me sweetly, running her hand under the blanket to my groin. In my sleep I'd developed a raging erection, and she uttered a little gasp as she felt me through my pants. "Ohh, Rick...honey...I'm still sore and can't make love tonight. Just a couple of more days, okay? But let me taste you. God, I've missed you this week!" she murmured, and unzipped me, mewling in her throat as she got up to straddle my ankles and take me in her wet mouth. "Give yourself to me, sweetheart. Let me swallow your cum!" she whispered, just before probing her throat with my turgid prick. I'd actually planned to stray and see someone else on the weekend – having set my sights on the enticing Rita – but Linda's early return had altered those plans. And, why stray when one can be serviced by such an expert? I thought, as the semen surged from my balls into her vacuuming mouth. I realized then that I'd become something close to a compliant slave to this woman...as well as the feckless voyeur who was her husband.