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Table of Contents
Her breasts rose and fell beneath the flimsy white thing she wore, large mounds of pink-tipped femininity. The scared blue eyes fell to her quivering stomach, then to the golden muff that rested between the long, slender legs. Her thighs were tense and slightly sweaty. Paul had insisted that she wear nothing beneath the gown, and it made her feel like a whore. She looked toward the bathroom door. He'd probably come out stark naked, all hairy and impatient, flaunting the terrible stiff thing with which he hoped to defile her body.
She shuddered. What would he say when he discovered that she was not virgin? Really, she had no cause to be alarmed at the thought. The painter who had violated her in the garage at the age of ten had not actually penetrated her. Just the tip of his knob was all. And the boy who had claimed her maidenhead during her first year of college had only--she hated the word--fucked her once. He'd been something of a brute, and, although she had wanted him to do it at first, she'd ended up trying to fight him off. Somehow, he'd managed to pin her on the floorboard of the car, and she'd found herself helpless, unable to move more than an inch either way. She could still feel his hot glans moving around the crotch of her panties and into her pussy, could still hear her cries as he penetrated her with a single thrust, hunching madly at her pained hole until he came. Afterward, she swore that she'd never do it again until after she married, and she had kept her promise. So, she was practically virgin.
The bathroom door opened and Paul walked into the bedroom. To Adele's relief, he was wearing a robe. He looked almost boyish, his shortly cropped, brown hair still damp from the shower, his eyes sparkled with admiration instead of being glazed with lust. Perhaps he would be easy with her after all. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then lay down and maneuvered her way toward the wall, still watching her husband. Her throat twitched as he threw the robe aside and came toward the bed. Naked! She closed her eyes and shut out the sight of his genitals. When she opened them he was standing at the edge of the bed, bringing the thing she feared even closer. Everything that made him male terrified her. The pink dangling sac with the curly dark hair massed above it, and most of all, the penis itself, bloated, stiff, filled with fire and hot sperm, its huge knob surging with blood. Paul grasped it at its base, like a club, and still it protruded beyond his fist for a good four inches. She turned her head toward the wall, stifling the sound of misery that welled in her throat.
He said but the single word, and then she felt the mattress sink beneath his one hundred and eighty pounds. She felt his hot breath against her neck, even the flare of his right nostril against her earlobe. He touched the tip of her breast, gently at first, then roughly pressed the globe against her chest.
"Put out the light, Paul, will you?" she asked, still not looking at him.
"I want to see you," he said huskily. "All of you."
"Damn it," he said, trying not to sound angry. "Were married now. You don't have to be so touchy. Or, have you never seen a naked man before?" He laughed before she could answer. "Well, I'm not so innocent. I've seen a hundred cunts, but I still want to see yours most of all."
"Do you have to call it that, Paul?"
"I call it what it is," he said. He tried to caress her breast and she pushed his hand away.
"I... need a little time to get used to you," she said.
He reached for the lamp. "I suppose you'll refuse to let me fuck you," he growled.
"No," she said softly, sighing as the room became dark. Now, at least, he could not see her unreasoning fear. She gasped audibly as she felt his hand against her genitals, squeezing the entire mound in the large cup of his hand. A finger pushed at her, forcing a bit of fabric into her still dry slit.
"Take the gown off," he ordered.
Adele sat, a trickle of cold sweat running through the valley of her breasts. The fabric clung to the damp mounds, and the nipples were frozen. She eased the garment above her hips, tensing as her naked buttocks settled back onto the sheet. The clinging fabric rolled around her waist and was momentarily trapped by the twin globes on her chest. In an effort to distill her fright, she jerked the gown higher, angrily, almost brutally. The nipples stung with irritation. When she had completely freed herself of the article, she lay down beside Paul, trying not to touch him. He threw one leg across her thighs, and the hot cockhead pressed against her hips, creating a burning sensation.
"Please, Paul," she whispered. "Not yet."
He said nothing but his breath was harsh and grating. And then he kissed her, softly at first, then more demandingly, he finally pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tried to respond but he sensed the superficiality, ducked his head, and went to her tits, burying his face between the hills. Concentrating on the left globe, he kissed his way toward the nipple, circled the aureole with his tongue, then sucked the tip in without further warning, feeding on it like a hungry child.
He ignored her as he sucked harder. It seemed that he was trying to draw the entire tit into his mouth, an impossible task, but one that offered the supreme challenge. "It hurts, Paul," she murmured. She could hear the sound of his lungs as the suction of his jaws became more pronounced. "Don't, Paul." She pushed at his chest. He bit at the nipple and made a blubbering sound against her flesh as he continued downward, sticking the tip of his tongue in her navel before proceeding any further. He blew into her pubic hair, then kissed at the bottom of the triangle, holding his lips in that position.
Adele whimpered in confusion. What was he going to do to her? Was he actually trying to kiss her pussy... trying to put his tongue into her hole? She kept her thighs together, trying to prevent the unthinkable action. If she allowed him to caress her in such a manner, he would surely expect reciprocation. And she couldn't. She just couldn't! Oh, God! He was doing it anyway. Just the point of his tongue could be felt against her labia. Flicking, then pushing, like a wet snake trying to crawl into her vagina. Hadn't he read the marriage manuals? Didn't he know that a man was supposed to be gentle with his bride, that he wasn't supposed to do anything that could possibly make sex distasteful to her?
Paul gripped her thighs with both hands and forced them apart, plunging his tongue into her cunt without hesitation and working it back and forth through the entire slit. And then he toyed with her clitoris, finally drawing the warm mass into his mouth. Adele almost fainted. He was actually eating her! She couldn't let herself respond, couldn't let him know that she was receiving even the slightest thrill from his depravity. Yet, the slight swelling of her loveflesh and the growing wetness of her parts could not be hidden.
"Oh, Paul," she started to cry, but forced the words back and remained cold to his caresses.
He rolled away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. The light hurt her eyes as he turned on the lamp. She shielded her face with one hand, not wanting to see either nudity. He lit a cigarette and looked away from her. "You never told me you were frigid, Adele," he said stiffly.
"Honey, I... "
"Honey." He laughed bitterly. "I think that word is out of place in our marriage."
"I'm not frigid, Paul."
"You're some kind of beautiful freak," he said, "but I'm not a man who can put you on a pedestal and look at you. It takes something more than beauty to keep me content." He scowled at her. I used to dream about fucking you when we were going together. Even came in my drawers at night. And what do I end up with? A beautiful ass made of ice. Women like you should have been born without cunts."
"Try to understand, Paul... " she began.
"I don't have to understand," he growled. "All I know is that I'm going to have sex on my honeymoon, one way or another." He stood and faced her, putting aside his cigarette. "You want to masturbate me, or would you rather suck me off?"
Adele's face paled to a greater degree. "Don't talk that way, Paul." She was even more alarmed now. His cock was huge, considerably more swollen than when he had come out of the bathroom. The cockhead was an awesome thing, its skin drawn tight and colored an eerie red against the dim light.
"You can't even stand the sight of it! " he snarled.
She forced herself to look at the terrible blue-veined erection, then slowly spread her thighs. "I'll... let you, Paul," she said, and he climbed back into bed. "Cut out the light," she repeated.
"No." This time it was a blunt refusal. "I want to see your reaction. I want to watch your eyes when I put it in you. What will it be, Adele? Love or revulsion?"
"Then leave the light on, if you must," she told him.
He mounted her and she braced herself against the coming assault. The cockhead lunged at her crotch and the blunt tip bored against her anus as the shaft struck low. She groaned. Should she tell him that he was seeking entrance at the wrong spot? Would it be indelicate? Surely, she just couldn't lie there and allow him to mistakenly fuck her in the ass. She shifted. The glans slipped to the proper orifice, forcing her labia apart. She tried to relax but the entire female cavity was filled with tenseness. The gigantic knob felt like a cannonball slamming against her rift. "Ohhh!" she whimpered as the penetration began. An unexpected thrust and two more inches entered. "Oh, God, Paul!" The only emotion in her face was pain. "It's... so... big, Paul!"
His progress was impeded by the tightness of her cavity, and he braced himself above her, sweating profusely as he tried to screw deeper into her vagina. His cock was growing within her. Her mouth moved in protest, but she dared not voice her reluctance to continue. Already she had sorely displeased him with her prudish behavior. She had to make herself accept whatever he did to her. She loved him, and, until tonight, she had thought that he loved her. It was difficult to believe that he had wanted her only for her body. "Arrggghh!" She cried out like a hurt animal as he tore into new territory, relentlessly boring another three inches into her tortured hole.
"Damn it," he said, "help... me!"
Slowly, Adele lifted her buttocks, easing her vulva higher. The discomfort was too much. "I can't." She sank away from him, but the burrowing cock followed, applying continuous pressure against her taut vagina. With a curse, he grasped her ass, digging his fingernails into the tender hillocks as he raised her body, virtually forcing her cunt onto his long shaft. He withdrew, almost to the knob, then took a dozen short, quick thrusts that seemed to loosen her parts. Then, a stiff, deep lunge impaled her to the hilt. "Uhhh!" Her head tossed to and fro as his testicles dangled against her buttocks, their pubic hairs intermingling. She despised what he was doing to her, hated the throbbing penis that had broken into her belly like a bear into a honeycomb. She felt no pleasure. She only hoped that he would come quickly, like the boy who had taken her maidenhead.
Such luck was not to be had. Paul Troy was thirty, no novice by any man's standards when it came to sex. A man did not take a woman simply to get his balls off. Fucking was an art, a thing to be prolonged and savored. And full satisfaction came only when the woman lost all restraint and joined in the act with wild abandon, living only for the hot cock imbedded in her vagina. But Adele refused to respond. Her parts were moist, made naturally so by the frictioning penis, but her emotions remained at low ebb. Paul wanted to see her huge tits flop back and forth, wanted to see her stomach undulate with passion, wanted to feel the hot, wet suction of her hungry cunt against his rod. "Screw me," he choked.
Adele remained stiff beneath the still-pounding cock, staring pensively into the face of her husband. His face was hazy, and, looking below, she could see his hard, hunching buttocks, driving the fluid-streaked shaft into her time and again, reaching ultimate bottom on each occasion. Her cunt lips fluttered against the moving shaft as she tried to react, but this small effort was short-lived. Her asshole contracted, drawn by a puckering string, seemingly becoming smaller than the head of a pin. "Paul... " she sobbed.
He mistook the sound as one of coming pleasure, and screwed her more rapidly, impatiently waiting to feel the hot fluids of a female orgasm bubbling around his organ. Adele writhed beneath him. He was too strong. He would never ejaculate. Never. Panting, she continued her efforts at freedom, unwittingly giving Paul pleasure as her soft inner folds massaged his glans with a delicate friction. He groaned. His big knob throbbed and jerked, and the scalding jet of his manhood flowed deep in her channel. A great gush of air was expelled from her lungs as Paul withdrew and flopped on his back beside her.
"You never did come, did you?" he asked shortly.
"No," she said.
"You do know what it means, don't you?"
"I suppose," she answered.
"Have you ever?"
"Have I ever... what?"
"Had an orgasm," he said.
"No." Adele was glad that he was not actually inquiring as to whether or not she had been a virgin. Her sexual reluctance had made him take her purity for granted. This was some consolation.
"You never masturbated when you were a girl?" he asked. "Never finger-fucked yourself?"
"Do you have to persist in being vulgar about it, Paul?" she asked. She had forgotten the tension that had existed between them and was unintentionally causing it to form again.
"You can't keep denying that sex exists," Paul grunted. "That hole between your legs wasn't made just to be pissed through."
"Everything shocks you, doesn't it?" he grimaced. "Maybe I should have met your parents before I married you." He laughed. "Did your father ever fuck your mother after you were born?"
"Now you're trying to be my psychoanalyst," she said.
"A man can learn a lot from a girl's background," he told her. "Probably your mother's a cold-assed shrew and some of it rubbed off on you."
"My mother is perfectly normal," she insisted.
"Then why do you hate sex?"
"I... don't hate sex," she protested. "I just don't care for it." She sat up and searched for her gown.
"You'll just have to take it off again," Paul warned.
"You want more?" Adele screwed up her nose. "Don't be such a pig." She put the gown on anyway.
"Maybe we'd better forget the whole thing," he said.
"Our marriage," he said. "It was all a mistake."
Adele was shocked. She'd heard of marriages being wrecked on the honeymoon, but she'd never dreamed that it could happen to her. "I'm sorry, Paul. Really, I am. I just can't help myself."
He shrugged. "What kind of a future will we have, with you fighting every time I try to get into your pants?"
Her eyes were somber. "Things will get better, Paul. I promise." She reached across him to cut out the light, and then she lay for a short time with her back to him. She flinched as his hand pressed against her buttocks, his fingers moving into the cleft. She pretended to sleep, but he pulled the gown up from behind, continuing to caress her stiffening ass. She took a deep breath, moaned, and moved away. He followed, this time shoving a new erection between her legs, searching for the opening to her vagina.
"You're not asleep," he said gruffly.
"I don't want it again, Paul," she said. "Not tonight." She gasped as he forced himself into her from behind, achieving several hard-earned inches. Reaching behind her, she shoved in the vicinity of his groin, jerking away as her hand came into contact with his hot balls. She drew her knees up high, forming a circle with her body, and his penis popped free. He cursed, then clutched her buttocks and pried the mounds apart while she fought against him. His angry passion made a gurgling sound in his throat as he sought admission to her guarded slit. With a sudden flurry of strength and movement, he straightened her legs and forced her flat on her stomach. "No!" His slick knob was moving as he straddled her thighs, moving from the very beginning of the tightly closed crevice toward her anus. His knob pushed at the rubbery ring with increasing pressure.
"You wouldn't!" Her voice quivered with disbelief and astonishment.
Paul laughed like a madman. "Wouldn't I?"
She fought to break away. On her back, she might have had a chance, but she was trapped with her stomach against the mattress, her weight pressing heavily upon her slightly spread thighs. She tried to pull her legs together, but he deftly blocked the effort by dropping a knee between them. Now his stiff shaft was at an angle to the side, but he was still firmly entrenched. He thrust once and she could almost hear the sound of tearing tissue. "Noooo... " She tried to rise, but he put a hand to the back of her slender neck and pushed her face into the pillow. She humped her buttocks, rotating her ass as she tried to shake his cockhead loose. Her wriggling only infuriated him. He braced his rod with one hand and made another mighty effort at penetration. "Oh... Gaaaaa!" Adele almost fainted as his glans popped through the tight, strong gristle, and she closed her eyes against the lancing pain, sobbing softly to herself as he made vicious screwing motions into her rectum. She did not know when he ejaculated. She only knew that her violated body would never again be the same.
They had been married three months, and Adele had tried hard to be the wanton bitch that Paul wanted for a wife. She had yet to experience an orgasm, although his technique had varied from extreme gentleness to excessive brutality. Some of his actions bordered on perversion. What else could one call the depravity he had subjected her to? He seemed obsessed with pedicatio, a most distasteful form of intercourse to her, and she had reluctantly submitted to him on several occasions since their honeymoon, simply trying to please him. Frankly, she derived about as much pleasure out of having his penis in her ass as in her frontal parts. Either way, it was but a gross rod of flesh, plowing up and down her spine and irritating her canal. There were times when she hated being female.
Paul frequently practiced cunnilingus on her, and to this she was a willing accomplice. The powerful suction of his mouth on her clitoris, the thick tongue working in her hole, had almost brought her to a climax several times.
At times Paul cursed her and became moody like a pouting child. This was to be expected. He had been catered to all his life, the son of a rich father, and had been given a junior executive's position in the family firm after graduation from college. He'd been a playboy when she had met him, and more and more she realized that she had simply captivated him as a sexual object.
Adele kept hoping for the best, trying to be responsive and warm, and she might have succeeded had it not been for a single incident that threw them even further apart. Paul was practicing cunnilingus that night, his face buried in her damp crotch, fervidly feeding his voracious appetite. She sensed the need in her loins, felt the building of emotions, actually strained to come. Paul brought her ever nearer to the desired climax, sucking so hard that she was being titillated deep within her being. And then she noticed his body moving, curving into a U, slowly edging upward until their positions were reversed. All the while he kept his mouth clamped on her genitals, and yet he managed to place his stiff cock within inches of her face. He began to make hunching motions and his hot male flesh touched her cheek.
"Take it," he hissed. She cringed as the elongated object continued to stab at her chin. She could actually smell his sex, and she turned her head away in revulsion. He continued to thrust the unwanted cock at her, his testicles slapping against the side of her neck. "Suck it," he commanded again. The smoldering knob struck the corner of her mouth. She cried out, sprang to a sitting position, and grasped the threatening shaft with both hands, trying to choke the life from it. "No!" she shouted, more angry than fearful.
Paul did a flip, straddling and facing her, his face purple with rage. He slapped her, yet she managed to retain her tenacious grip on his penis. Again, he struck her, and the sound of the blow filled her ears. She almost fainted, and her hands dropped limply away from his organ. Seeing that she was momentarily stunned, Paul worked quickly. When the haze drifted away, Adele found his cockhead pressing hard against her lips. She nipped at the violating object with strong white teeth. As Paul cursed and drew away, Adele quickly grasped his shaft, pulling the skin tightly away from the glans. She firmed her grip and pumped his stalk, trying to save herself from his final humiliation.
"Uhhhh!" Paul looked stupidly at her and his eyes bulged. Adele released him as she felt the rapid, deep pulsations in his cock. It fell into the valley of her breasts. On the edge of orgasm, Paul folded the ivory globes against his throbbing member, experiencing a mixture of pleasure and defeat as he ejaculated. Adele winced as the hot semen splashed against her soft flesh.
* * *
Adele left her husband's bed that night and refused to sleep with him again. Tired of having physical combat and sex run hand in hand, Paul Troy did not protest her decision. Adele felt that he had accepted the affront to his manhood almost too graciously, but she did not grow concerned until several weeks had passed without him making the slightest sexual overtures toward her. Being a woman, and knowing the kind of man Paul was, she sensed that he was obtaining physical satisfaction elsewhere. She began to suspect that part of it was being had in her own household when she saw Paul give Marie, the maid, a healthy pat on the rump. Marie only smiled.
Paul had hired Marie several days after returning from the honeymoon. Adele had disliked the idea from the moment she had seen the maid, but Paul had refused to call the employment agency and request another. It wasn't just Marie's sexy body that worried Adele. The girl had a come-hither look about her. Raven hair, bobbed, with large round eyes almost as dark, and a wide, seductive mouth. Her skin was even paler than Adele's. Equally disturbing was that fact that Marie had sleep-in arrangements. If this were not enough, the girl sprinkled her conversation with bits of French--completely misrepresenting herself, of course--but it made Paul even more susceptible to her charms.
Try as she might, Adele could not catch Paul and Marie in the act. More than once she arose in the middle of the night, hoping to catch her husband in the maid's bed, but was always unsuccessful. One night, while snooping through the house, she did notice a faint light creeping from beneath Marie's door. As she moved closer, she could hear the girl's passionate whimpers. Resisting the impulse to barge in, Adele cracked the door slightly and peered into the room. Marie was lying on the bed, minus her panties, her nightgown pulled high around her waist. Her mouth moved in twitches, and her eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Her fingers worked vigorously between her outstretched thighs, desperately manipulating her swollen Venus. Adele should have been shamed at the sight of the masturbating girl, but instead, she became even more convinced that Paul was having an affair with the sex hungry female.
Unable to trap the couple, Adele thought up a scheme to make them more available to one another. She deliberately left them alone one day after the noon meal, pretending to go into town on a shopping spree. After driving several blocks, she returned to find that Paul had not yet left for the office. Feeling almost like a criminal, she crept through the tall shrubbery surrounding the house and peered into the windows one by one. Her heartbeat quickened when she saw the maid standing over the kitchen sink. Paul was directly behind her, one hand planted firmly on her left buttock. Adele strained her ears in order to pick up the conversation.
"Please, non, monsieur," Marie said.
Paul laughed shortly. "Why not?"
"Madame, she... "