Chapter 5

Adie sat next to Bob Mason on the three-cushion couch, her fifth drink - or was it her sixth? She couldn’t really be sure how many she’d had in the car - clutched tightly in both her hands. Her mind was swirling with the pictures of what she had seen at Salmon Creek ... Jack kissing Sue between the legs, kissing her - well, her pussy, no use mincing words now ... Jack’s large bloated penis almost completely consumed by the wet dripping lips sucking voraciously on it as if it were some gigantic peppermint stick ... Jack’s contorted lust-expressioned face and Sue’s as they groveled in one another’s private sweating parts ... God! God! It was all there in her mind as vivid now as it had been when she’d witnessed it. She felt a little nauseous, a little ashamed, but yet overwhelmingly angry; Jack had violated a sacred marital trust, the very essence of love and their relationship...

She didn’t know what to do. Actually, she wanted to hurt him, do something to pain him as he had pained her ... retribution ... reprisal. But that was unthinkable, because the only kind of retribution or reprisal which this untenable situation warrented was doing the same thing - or at least the same type of thing - that Jack had done. In plain terms, it meant making love to another man, and she simply couldn’t do that.

Or - could she?

No, no, no, no! her mind repeated, over and over. No, that’s liquor talking, liquor and shame and hurt talking; I really shouldn’t have had all these drinks ... oh God, I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to cope with a situation like this; who would ever have dreamed that I would have to?

Adie felt tears brim in her eyes, spill down over her cheeks. Crying wasn’t going to do any good, she knew that, but she felt so wretched and miserable at that moment, so indecisive, that the tears were something of a defense mechanism to momentarily flood out the terrible hurt and still leave the questions unresolved. She let the tears flow freely, pouring from her eyes like cascading winter rain, sobbing brokenly without removing her hands from around the glass.

Dimly she was aware of movement on the couch beside her; dimly, she felt a hand touch her shoulder, an arm go around her and draw her close; dimly she knew the clean faint cologne smell of a man in her nostrils. But the arm was strong and the odor was not at all unpleasant, and she allowed herself to be pressed close against a firm supporting chest, lowering her head there and crying deeply, dispairingly.

Bob Mason felt the warm resilient body pressed tightly to his own, felt the firm rippling muscles of her shoulder beneath his encircling arm, smelled the heady fragrance of her hair and her body. Goddamn! Oh it was going to be good, all right; it was really going to be good! Bob Mason felt a throbbing ache in his balls, and the blood was beginning to pound hotly in his rising cock, making little tingling sensations race back and forth across the swelling head. Damn! He couldn’t wait much longer, that was for sure. He had to have her pretty soon now because if he didn’t, he was going to blow his whole load in his pants, sure as hell. But he sensed that she was open and ready for a suggestion now - she was ashamed and a little drunk and mad as hell - and that it wouldn’t take much to convince her what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander.

Mason began to whisper softly against her hair, letting the soft strands tickle his nostrils, intensifying the warm pleasant ache in his now-almost-fully-erect cock. At first the words were soft, mesmeric, quieting sounds, consisting of “shhh, honey” and “don’t cry, now, don’t cry” and “everything will be all right, baby, you’ll see.” He took the glass from her fingers and placed it on the coffee table; almost immediately she raised her hands and clutched at his polo shirt, bunching the cloth between her spasmodic fingers as she wept against him. He knew that the words, his nearness, were having an effect on her - though of course she couldn’t be realizing it at the moment, would realize it only later when his forthcoming plays would have sent her beyond any recall. She was trusting him now, trusting his words and trusting the touch of his arm about her shoulders ... just the way he wanted it.

Mason began then to stroke the satiny skin of her shoulder and upper arm, gently, comfortingly. And in the same tone of voice that he had been using but with different words now he intoned, “Don’t think about it, honey. Don’t think about the way your husband and my wife looked there on that blanket, the way their faces looked in the sunlight. Don’t think about what they were doing, licking and sucking one another, touching one another. Don’t think about your husband and my wife, honey; don’t think about it at all...”

Mason could feel the firm warm breast pressing against his rib cage, could feel the nipple hardening somewhat there, and he smiled as he continued to talk. His words were having the desired effect on her; she was thinking about Jack and Sue of course, just as he had known she would. She was seeing them mentally as they had looked there at Salmon Creek, sixty-nining ... and the images were in turn causing unmistakable, if unwanted, arousal in her own body. Almost ready now, he thought; she’s almost ready now...

Despite her tears, the tortured confusion of her mind at the events of the afternoon, Adie was beginning to slowly experience an almost dreamy torpor as she remained enveloped in Mason’s strong gentle embrace. His words seemed to flow like soft warm butter into her ears, soothing, hypnotic; she was aware that he was telling her not to think of what she - they - had seen, of Jack’s and Sue’s joint infidelity but the vision was nonetheless there, unerasable, brought into crystal clarity by his soporific voice instead of dimmed into her subconscious. She didn’t want to think about it, God knew that, but she just couldn’t help it ... she just couldn’t help it. She sobbed into the thin material of Bob Mason’s polo shirt, finding a certain security in his masculine nearness and the gentle stroking of his hand on her bare shoulder and upper arm.

And strangely, perversely, the images in her brain were starting to have a certain physical effect on Adie as well. She could feel twitching excited sensations deep within her belly, and her vaginal orifice begin to secrete droplets of lubrication, moistening her panties under the black stretch slacks, causing her to open and close her thighs, open and close them in a gathering sexual rhythm. Her nipples hardened under the sleeveless jersey. She tried to will her body to cease its tingling ardor, but the images were too vivid - and Bob Mason’s maleness was too close, too exciting ... yes, exciting was the right word, Bob was really quite an attractive man, certainly not repulsive in any way, and so kind and gentle and good...

Mason felt Adie Rolfe trembling beneath his arm, trembling with something else now beside the racking sobs of her misery, and he thought exultantly: Now’s the time! She’s ready, she’s really ready ... oh Christ, I’m going to throw a fuck into her that she won’t soon forget! I’m going to shove it all the way up into her belly until she screams for me to cum, and then I’m going to fill her up with boiling hot sperm! She’ll throw rocks at her old man when I’m done fucking her, goddamn right!

He continued to stroke her shoulder, letting his hand slide slowly and lightly down along the length of her arm, knowing that the motion was having an electric effect on her. She had stopped crying now, although her face was still buried against his chest, and her hands still clutched his shirt, and he sensed rather than heard a quickening of her breath under his caress. He brought his hand up, sliding it along her back now, down, down almost to the curve of her buttocks, bringing it up to tease along the ridge of her spine. And all the while he was whispering words into her hair, words becoming bolder and bolder: “Don’t think about them Adie, the two of them making love ... no, fucking, Adie, that’s what they were doing, honey, they were fucking orally, but you mustn’t think about your husband’s hard penis in Sue’s mouth, and you mustn’t think about Jack kissing and licking between my wife’s legs. You mustn’t think about any of that, honey...”

She was breathing faster now, all right, he could hear it and feel the heat of her breath through the shirt. Well, if there was ever any time to throw caution to the wind, it was now. Right now!

Mason brought his hand up to her shoulder again, and then casually, lightly, he put it on the swelling mound of her breast and began to rub the pliant globe tenderly through the encasing jersey and bra. He heard the sharp intake of Adie’s breath, felt the sudden stiffening of her body and the convulsive kneading of his shirt in her hands. But she made no effort to pull away, and he grinned widely, evilly, knowing that he had won, that she was his irrevocably now. He kept caressing her breast, running his thumb across the hardened nipple, his heart pounding in his chest and his cock leaping like a wild thing seeking escape from the cumbersome cage that was his shorts and trousers...

A warning voice in Adie’s mind tried to penetrate the lethargic state Mason’s words had evoked, tried to tell her that something was going to happen if she didn’t put an end to it right now. And yet, somehow, his hand on her breast didn’t seem wrong to her, not really, it felt so good, like the hand of her father stroking her sweating body when she had been down with a high fever as a child, telling her to leave everything to him and it would be all right. And Bob’s voice, speaking against her hair, saying now: “We have to do something, baby, we owe it to ourselves. Turnabout is fair play, sweetheart, and it can be good that way, very good ... You want to hurt him, don’t you? You want to hurt him for what he’s done, don’t you? I want to hurt Sue for what she’s done; she deserves to be hurt and Jack deserves to be hurt, honey...”

Turnabout is fair play ... Jack deserves to be hurt ... The words spun and tumbled in Adie’s confused mind as Bob Mason stroked her breast and held her close to him. Yes, he was right. Jack did deserve to be hurt, and the only way to hurt him was with her body ... But did she dare do what she knew this situation would lead to if she continued to remain passive? Did she dare to be, herself, as unfaithful as Jack had been? Well, why not? Why not, indeed? Jack had been the one to despoil the sacrosanct vows of marriage, hadn’t he? Yes, damn it, she dared to do it, all right; she was just hurt enough, just angry enough, just drunk enough, and ... yes, just aroused enough ... that she would do it...

Mason’s hand had dipped under her sweater now, was trailing hot tremulous paths along the bare skin of her flat stomach, moving higher to touch the tightly encased orbs of her breasts, cupping first one and then the other. Adie’s hips began to squirm against the softness of the cushions, and she turned her body slightly more toward him, pressing herself to him. And then her head lifted, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her lips parting wetly; it was as if she were a puppet and the puppeteer had activated the string controlling her head, raising it up for the innocent kiss of a boy puppet - except that Bob Mason was not a puppet and not a boy and the kiss would surely not be innocent...

It wasn’t.

He ground his lips onto hers, completely engulfing her mouth with his warm moist one, flicking his tongue forward immediately to slip past her teeth and into her mouth, to meet and entwine with hers. Pinwheels of light flashed in back of Adie’s eyes at the sheer physical impact of his kiss, and her hand lifted from his shirt front to encircle his neck, press his head tightly, molding their mouths together like molten metals fusing into one. His hand was pushing her bra up now, insinuating itself beneath, touching the hot flesh of her naked breast now, touching the hard bud of her nipple, pinching it painfully between his thumb and forefinger. His tongue sawed mercilessly in and out of her mouth in the attitude of copulation, and she made tiny excited mewling sounds of pleasure deep in her throat.

And then Mason’s hand left her breast, moved down along her stomach, seeming to sear her skin there, and then around to the waistband of her stretch pants. Quickly, then deftly and without hesitation, he unbuttoned the single button at the side, located the zipper and drew it down; his fingers went to the band of her panties, swiftly moved inside, pushing the flimsy material down, his fingertips touching the hot flesh of her abdomen and then the first curling strands of her soft downy fleece. But he didn’t pause there; he let his hand slide still lower, his middle finger extended until the digit came into sudden contact with the warm damp furrow of her cunt. Adie’s body jackknifed against him with the electric contact of his touch on her naked defenseless crotch; her whole being commenced to oscillate violently, and she began to moan in wild staccato cadence. From somewhere far, far back in her mind, the warning voice began to speak again: No, this is wrong, this is all wrong. I’m not some whore to be used; I’m not merely, a receptacle for a strange man’s semen ... I still love Jack no matter what he’s done I still love him ... no, no, no, this is all wrong ... stop it, stop it now, before it’s too late ... you have to stop it, stop it, stop it!

But she didn’t stop it. She couldn’t stop it. She was incapable of pulling away from him, she liked his touch on her genitals, yes she liked it! She liked his tongue in her mouth, liked his touch. Oh God! She couldn’t stop it now at all, it was too late, too late...

Mason dipped his middle finger into the wet trembling passage of Adie’s burning cunt, teasing the hardened button of her clitoris, playing with it, reveling in the feel of her nubile pussy and the vibrating arousal of her firm young body. Christ! he thought, she really turns on, just like I knew she would. She wants cock all right, she’s fired up for cock, and when a woman gets that way nothing else matters; nothing else at all.

“Baby,” he whispered in his soft voice, taking his mouth from hers briefly, “baby, I want you, I want to fuck you, I need to fuck you baby...”

She stiffened momentarily at his use of the obscene word, but he knew that his voice, his finger playing maddeningly with her vaginal opening, would overcome her hesitations ... she was too far gone now for anything else to happen.

And then in a voice that was strange, detached, she breathed out her answer to him; breathed out words which caused Mason’s prick to throb intensely in his pants and dribble excited seminal emissions from its swollen glans, words which were at once distinctly alien and impossibly exciting on her lips and in her ears, words brought about by many things not the least of which was a strange awakening of sexual desire wrought intrinsically by her own husband’s perverted actions of the afternoon.

She said, “Oh yes, Bob darling, and I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me, I need you to fuck me just as much as you need it. Fuck me, Bob! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...”

Jack lay next to Sue Mason on the large towel, spent, staring up at the late afternoon sky paling into the first shadows of evening. Now that the wild abandoned sexual games had ended - or at least had ended until the impossibly ardent, insatiable Sue Mason had recuperated his now flaccid prick for another round - Jack was thinking once again of Adie. He was thinking of how much he loved her in spite of her sexual shortcomings, in spite of the fact that she was not now and could never be a match for a nymphomaniac like Sue, and the thoughts brought the first lingering vestiges of shame to his mind, stirrings of guilt which would amplify later, he knew, and consume him with self-loathing and self-disgust at his inability to control his carnal instincts.

God, he thought, how can I ever face Adie again? How can I look her in the eye? She’ll be able to tell of course, she’ll take one look at me and she’ll know what I’ve done here today ... oh Adie, dear sweet unsuspecting Adie, what could have come over me? I love you, I don’t want to hurt you ... but I’m no good at lying, and you’ll know that I’ve been making love to another woman, you’ll surely know, and when you do I won’t blame you if you leave me, God knows you’ve got the grounds and the right...

“A penny for your thoughts, lover,” Sue said beside him, rolling over onto her stomach and looking into his face as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Sure,” Jack answered bitterly. He didn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh,” Sue said softly. “You’re thinking about your wife.”

“Yes, I’m thinking about my wife.”

“And you’re feeling guilty about all that we’ve done here today, aren’t you? Guilty because your dear sweet innocent Adie would be absolutely horrified if she knew. Am I right?”

Jack felt color blotch his cheeks, and he turned his eyes to her angrily; who did this bitch think she was, taunting him about Adie?

“What difference does it make to you if I am thinking about her?” he demanded.

Sue laughed softly. “I don’t like to see a man put a woman up on a pedestal,” she said. “No woman belongs on a pedestal, lover, and when a man finds that out, it’s usually a rude awakening.”

“What’s that supposed to mean”’

“Just that I wouldn’t be too terribly surprised if I were you, to learn that you’re not the only member of your family to engage in a little extracurricular activity.”

The heat flowed through his entire body, and he had to repress a desire to slap her for her comment. His voice was low and menacing as he said, “You goddamned bitch! Just because you’re a fucking nympho: just because you fuck around on Bob doesn’t mean that all women are like you.”

“Doesn’t it?” Sue asked amusedly. She moved her body provocatively next to him like a predatory cat just awakening on a summer morning.

“No, goddamn it, it doesn’t!”

“Tell me, lover,” she inquired lazily, “what do you suppose that darling little wife of yours is doing right at this moment?”

“Why ... why she’s home, probably cleaning the house or watching television.”

“I don’t think so,” Sue told him. “I think she’s with Bob right about now.”

“With Bob? Why would she be with your husband?”

“Why do you suppose, lover?”

“You bitch, are you insinuating...?”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m simply stating a fact. I know my husband pretty well, and I’d be willing to bet just about anything I own that he’s either got your darling Adie in bed by now or is pretty damned close to it.”

Jack was sitting up now, his mind whirling disconcertedly. What Sue was saying was inconceivable. Adie would never ... submit to Bob Mason. And Bob would never take advantage of his, Jack’s absence by trying to seduce Adie. Would he? No, that was ridiculous, downright absurd! He knew his wife; she was strictly a one-man woman; she would never...

“I know what you’re thinking, lover,” Sue said, “You’re thinking that either I’m crazy, or there’s something going on that you never even dreamed of. Well, I’ll tell you this much; I’m not crazy.”

Jack just shook his head numbly, staring at her.

“Tell you what,” Sue said casually, “why don’t we get dressed and drive back to Seattle? We’ll take your car. When we get to your house, then we’ll see what we shall see. Okay?”

“I don’t believe any of this!” Jack insisted. “My wife wouldn’t...”

“You’re not afraid to drive back to your little love-nest with me, are you? You’re not afraid that instead of proving me wrong it will prove me right?”

“No, goddamn it!” Jack exploded. “I’m not afraid of any such thing!”

Sue stood up and ran her hands slowly down her naked bronzed flanks. “Shall we get dressed then?”

“All right!” Jack said, gaining his own feet, fighting down another urge to slap this woman, this bitch who dared to talk about his Adie the way she was. “Let’s get dressed and let’s drive back to Seattle! And when Adie turns out to be alone and cleaning house, I’m going to get an apology out of you! Or else!”

Sue smiled wisely and turned and started for the cabin’s rear entrance.

Adie moaned loudly in frenzied sexual abandonment, giving herself over fully to this man, Bob Mason, this comparative stranger who shared her hurt and her torment, allowing his expert ministrations to arouse her to a fever pitch. As he guided her down on the couch, his middle finger still tantalizing her naked clitoris, his tongue once again fucking her mouth rapaciously, Adie thought dimly: I’m doing this because of you, Jack, because of what I saw you doing; its your fault, Jack, all your fault that I’m doing this ... turnabout is fair play...

Mason suddenly took his mouth from hers and hovered over her prone, trembling, waiting body, his eyes feasting gleefully on her partially exposed cunt below the lowered panties and slacks, his finger forming its way along the wet, sopping passage at will. She was all his now, all his! “I’m going to make you naked now, honey,” he whispered in his droning voice. “I’m going to make you naked, and I want you to help me.”