Penny trembled as Tom squeezed the soft white mound of her breast again, feeling little clouds of butterflies swarm around in her stomach. He tweaked at one rosy nipple now with steel-strong fingers, rolling it between them, while John stared at him, open-mouthed, dismayed.
Then Kelly looked up and choked back a little scream of horror. Oh, no! Why did Tom have to do such things, why did he have to paw lewdly at this woman's breast in public? It was true, of course, that he'd come up here with one thing in mind and that was to take Penny to… to fuck her. But why out here? Why didn't they go into the bedroom as they had before?
"Tom…" she began diffidently, wondering how to suggest that he and Penny leave. But she could think of no way to ask. She shook her head, still watching, almost mesmerized now as Tom ran his other hand down Penny's black-clad back, cupping one softly undulating buttock to pull her close. He pressed his loins hard up against her pelvis, pressed his bulging cock against the small mound of her pussy.
"Tom…" Kelly began again, and then shook her head. Oh, God! She couldn't sit here and watch this! She just couldn't! She stood up and turned toward the door. "John," she said. "Let's go in… in…" she nodded, ashamed to say "Bedroom".
"Yes, Kelly."
But before they could leave, Tom whirled around to order brusquely, "Stay here."
Kelly tugged on John's arm. "Let's go," she whispered urgently.
"Please, John."
The tall handsome man hesitated, a sudden excitement lighting fires in his loins. Oh, Lord! He'd never counted on anything like this… never counted on watching his wife get fucked by another man. Wifeswap, yes… Change partners, okay. But this? This was insane!
It piqued his interest, added a filip of sensuality he hadn't counted on. He brushed impatiently at Kelly's hand on his sleeve. "Please, John," she begged him. "Wait a minute."
Kelly tapped her foot impatiently, scarcely breathing now at the sudden thought that John Whitmore might somehow be persuaded to stay and watch this indecent performance! What on earth had come over him? He was… oh, dear God! He was acting like Tom, himself.
With a terrible sigh that signified her disappointment, Kelly released John's arm. She averted her eyes, staring at the floor now, concealing the pain in them. She waited as John had asked her to-waited for what seemed an eternity. And then he stepped forward, stepped toward his wife and Tom, at the same time motioning Kelly to a nearby chair. "Let's stay awhile," he suggested to her. "This might be…" he had the grace to blush slightly, "… this might be fun."
Fun! Kelly thought disconsolately. Oh, dear God! John Whitmore really was as lewd, as depraved as her own husband. She bit her lip, choking back the angry words that rose to them. And then she shook her head. No, she couldn't believe that. It just wasn't possible.
She had had a sudden inclination to turn and flee from this place, but now she changed her mind. John couldn't be so depraved, so… so… uncouth! Not John Whitmore!
The harrowing experience of the week before, when he had sucked at her trembling pussy so voraciously, came back to her. And yet she couldn't-wouldn't-believe what seemed too obvious! She put her hand to her head, as if somehow that could untangle her thoughts. Her forehead seemed warm and her head seemed to spin.
Almost as if propelled by some exterior force she crossed to the bar and poured herself a drink. She swallowed it quickly. It helped, she thought. It helped. And another drink would help more, would enable her to survive the outrageous scene that was already unfolding before her. She poured it, then sank down onto the chair as she heard her husband suddenly order Penny, "Okay. Take it off… get naked!"
Well aware of her past in the chorus, Penny whirled around as if playing to an audience. But she was the star now, and she began to strut back and forth across the room, grinding her hips, thrusting out her pelvis.
Oh, God, Kelly thought. She's… she's doing a striptease! It had to be that. It just had to be! She had never seen one herself, but she had heard some of her friends in college talking about them, snickering behind their hands, winking slyly, giggling like the ninnies she considered them.
Abruptly John Whitmore, recognizing the act, too, began to applaud. "Take 'em off!" he urged his wife. "Take 'em off!"
Penny wiggled her hips sensuously, parading up and down now as if on the runway at some burlesque house. She shot her husband a lewd glance, nodding at him as if in answer to his request, then quickly reached around behind her back to pull down the zipper of her form-fitting dress. With a shrug and a kick she shed it, swaying a little, thrusting out her hips as she aped a sexy posture she had seen on stage. The dress fell about her feet and she kicked at it but missed. With a half-whispered, "Damn!" she bent down to pick it up and toss it across the room and onto a chair.
Her quivering ass-cheeks, like two plump melons, encased in their black mesh panties were thrillingly exposed to the full view of the others, the narrow crevice between them plainly visible and even accentuated in outline by the fabric.
John Whitmore felt the cold sweat break out on his forehead as he watched the lewd performance and he sucked in his breath. Jesus! He hadn't seen anything like this since… since when? Since those early days of his marriage, he realized! His own cock lurched beneath his pants in a sudden response to the provocation of his wife. He felt a moment's pang of jealousy, knowing that she would be Tom's tonight-that it was he who would fuck Penny silly. And he would, he thought, looking over at his guest, seeing the leer on his face-he would give her everything she was asking for which was plenty.
But he forgot about Tom momentarily as he continued to stare at Penny. She had straightened up now, cocking her head to one side, shrugging her shoulder slightly in a suggestive pose that sent new waves of excitement rolling through him.
His beautiful brunette wife was wearing only her panties and her tiny brassiere now and once more she paraded across the room, whirling about and pirouetting. At the side she leaned against a door-jamb, just as if it were the proscenium at one of the old burlesque houses he had entered furtively when he was still not much more than a kid, leaned there like any of the hot strippers whose names had been up in somewhat dim lights on the marquee, like them thrusting out her loins and rotating her hips lewdly, suggestively.
In spite of himself, John burst into applause and then was startled by the sound of his own clapping. Good Lord! His own wife was practically setting him on fire!
Penny shot an appreciative glance at her husband, her own eyes beginning to sparkle with lewd excitement now as she continued to undress. She made another quick, lascivious movement of her own flaming loins, then suddenly reached behind her to tear open the fastening at the back of her brassiere. Her large firm breasts sprang free, and Tom and John in unison sucked in their breaths, loudly, sibilantly, the sound
rolling across the room the way it had rolled across the footlights in those distant days at the shabby, rundown burlesque houses both had frequented.
Penny smiled brightly, as if basking in their applause, then caught her falling brassiere on an outstretched finger and began to whirl it wildly, rotating her hips at the same time, grinding her pelvis as if she was accepting some huge thick cock deep up inside her cunt, thrusting against the lewd invasion of her private parts.
And then slowly, seductively, with the utmost sensuality, she eased her little black panties down over her still pumping hips and thighs, let them slither down her long slender legs and drop to her ankles. With a quick kick she stepped out of them and flung them across the room. And then she stood before the two men, her arms raised high above her head to firm and accentuate the two snowy mounds of her large breasts.