From Teen Bride To Hot Wife: First Steps, 1975 free porn video

Mike passes the magazine to Joe as if it were drugs. He's anticipated this moment since he and Mike discussed each other's wives down the Red Lion last Friday. Even so, when he flicks the pages and sees the ads, the photos, all those people seeking their own kind, only then does the implication of the scheme the pair so casually hatched over their pints become unforgivingly real. He turns pages, incredulously at first, his initial shock slowly morphing to fascination. The promised possibilities are limitless. He slouches for comfort as he reads.

Caroline has caught a glimpse of the cover, just a flash of colour at first. Then there's no mistaking the semi-naked blonde. Caroline is up on her feet in an instant, comes to Joe and perches herself on the upholstered arm by his side.

"What do you have there, Joey? A dirty book? Can I see, babe?" she asks.

"You won't like it," he says but still hands it to her.

"How do you know I won't?"

"I know you. That's how I know."

"I might surprise you," Caroline says.

He stands up and goes to the kitchen for another drink, and she slides down into the plush seat that now exudes his warmth.

Their hosts, Mike and Kate, an older couple by five and three years respectively, sit on the sofa opposite. They observe Caroline as she leafs through the magazine. She can feel their eyes on her as she turns the pages.

"Easy there, girl. We don't want you getting overexcited," Mike calls across to her. His tone implies the opposite.

Within the glossy covers, she finds a world she could never have previously imagined. She turns page after page, hardly believing what she reads: the propositions, the catalogued kinks, the requests for like-minded others, words and letters potted economically in cost-constricted abbreviations. It is a code she becomes desperate to crack.

Caroline is nineteen, knows nothing of the secret world the magazine now reveals. She has heard of wife swapping but does not know how she knows. To her, it's a seedy mystery practised by older couples in detached houses on new estates, confectionary reps and car keys in the fruit bowl, everyone's lives all "play for today". It is a world far from the life she and Joe share in their terraced house in this small northern town. Joe is only a little older than Caroline, married her when she turned eighteen just over a year and ago. Caroline is happy with her life, loves Joe so much it hurts. She does not concern herself with the larger world, the world of celebrities, wars, strikes, and politics. Anything beyond the small pond of friends, job, and music in which she and Joe swim their lives away has little meaning.  

She thinks they're visiting Mike and Kate's to watch the couple's new colour television, purchased just last Saturday. Kate and Mike have made a big deal of their purchase, are keen to show it off.  She does not know the new television is just an excuse, a ruse to get her here. The contact mag and its contents are what really matters.

It's all in glorious colour on the new tv screen. German music of avant-garde rock group Kraftwerk is featured on the futuristic magazine programme Tomorrow's World. When Joe hears the show's opening theme, he hurries back into the lounge carrying tumblers of gin and ice. He hands Caroline her drink and sits on the chair arm by her side while he raves to Mike about the band, how they are the future of music.

Mike is dismissive: "This electronic crap will never catch on."

They sit quietly, sip their drinks and watch the musicians at their machinery; nice young men in suits and ties who turn dials, flip switches, paw at keyboards, and rap at electronic pads with drumsticks. These German boys have good haircuts that give them a Weimar air, a thirties Berlin chic. They could be poster boys for pre-war science fiction. Their synthesised voices and machine-generated rhythms spill from the telly like radio waves from Moonbase Alpha.

 Caroline thinks Kraftwerk odd, their synthesised sounds a gimmick soon to be forgotten. Give her Bowie or Roxy Music any day instead of this.

 But Joe knows genius when he sees it. "This is the music of the future," he says — for the umpteenth time.

Caroline has lost interest in Kraftwerk, her attention now fully captured by the magazine. It's not like that girlie one she once found down the sofa when she lived back at home, the one that belonged to her older brother, Lewis. All those tastefully posed girls with pretty faces and perfect skin, she'd thought them beautiful and had wondered about the life of a model. That night in her room when readying herself for bed, she'd stood naked and inspected her reflection in the long mirror and asked herself if she had the looks for it and decided she did, though deep down she doubted she'd ever dare get naked for a camera.

But she had wanted to see, and so had angled the mirror so that it caught her as she lay on the bed. Propped by cushions, she parted her legs, knees high and angled out, like giving birth. She touched herself while imagining men seeing her cunt displayed in glossy colour. Her orgasm had been almost immediate, intense. It had left her breathless.

Now she goes methodically through the small ads, searching for youth, but finds only grainy shots of undraped middle-aged couples, and single males with proud erections, all made too blatant in black and white. She wonders how men can be so vain to think a close-up of just their stiff prick is enough to entice a woman.

The wives invariably wear suspenders and stockings, their heads turned away from the camera, and others who hide behind a drawn curtain of long hair. But for most, it is a simple dash of black to forestall the shame of recognition. Only the most brazen, the ones with nothing to lose, display their hopeful faces.

It turns her world upside down to know the grown-ups can sink to this.

Kraftwerk's moment is over, but Caroline hardly notices. She learns that in the world of swinging, sexual deviations are commonplace, almost a badge of honour to be worn proudly. Joe wants to look again, but she won't give it back, selfishly turns away from him and continues searching the ads. She hopes to see someone as young as Joe and herself, but finding them isn't easy. After a closer reading of the ads, she finds Beth and Karl from Bolton, others from further away, too far to visit. Others appeal to her but are maybe a little too old. She isn't sure. Hard to tell. She is not so naive as to believe the claimed ages.

She wonders why Mike has shown them this thing.  She remembers how he had tried to kiss her that time after Joe passed out on the sofa. It was six months ago, here in this very house when Joe's reckless drinking curtailed his night. Kate was long asleep upstairs, and with only each other for company, she and Mike had talked intimately while Joe gently snored. It seemed to her they shared thoughts as soulmates might, and when Mike spoke of his past — his father's death when he was eight — she felt she had made contact with more than the macho poseur she had previously supposed him.

And when he stood to go and pour drinks, she did too and went with him into the kitchen. Even now, she does not know how it happened, their coming together. Mike held her close, as if she were precious, his muscular arms reassuring. He made her feel safe, protected. She thought it the warmest hug of friendship, and it had pleased her.  

He pulled her close and his lips found her flesh, his tongue sliding wetly to her throat. A surge of shocking betrayal took her breath away. His mouth a seal, his gagging tongue abruptly imposed to jostle her own, confounding her so that she had no idea how to respond. Her mind already addled from cider, she tottered on the precipice of acquiescence. For the first time since her marriage to Joe, a need to experience a man other than him was about to overrule everything she believed about her marriage.  But the consequences would be incalculable, she knew it instinctively, did not have to analyse, — could not anyhow. And so she wriggled free, her breathing precipitous; as if hauled from the depths of an iced lake.

The hiss of her voice as she pushed him away, "No! I can't. Please, Mike. No!" seemed to echo around the room, a shout from a mountaintop, though she'd whispered it as a plea.

She dropped to her knees next to the sofa where Joe slept, Mike quietly slinking from the room as she gently woke Joe.

"Can we get a cab? I want to go home."

"I can't be arsed," he said, hardly noticing her distress. He turned over and buried his head among cushions. She lay down by his side but did not sleep..

The next day Mike took her aside and apologised, said it had been drunken horseplay. And she too made light of their moment, told him to get over himself, it never happened. In the days that followed she tried to believe her own lie, convince herself it was only Mike fooling with her and that she had done the right thing, saved him from himself. In her heart, she knew there had been an instant when the outcome was still undecided, that it could have been different. And even though that following day they had laughed it off, were friends again, the memory of Mike's hard cock against her belly would not leave her. It was a silly, drunken moment that would stain her conscience.

And now, as she looks at the magazine that Mike has introduced into their world, she sees her depravity reflected in the needs of others.

"What does bi-curious mean?" she asks no one in particular. Her question is genuine; she has no idea.

Mike is quick to answer: "It's when a usually straight girl wants to see what it's like with another girl."

"Oh," she replies and pulls her face.

"Turn to the front. There's a glossary, use it."

Kate is leggily curled among cushions on the long sofa across from Caroline. She asks, "Have you ever felt bi-curious, Caz?"

Kate's words throw Caroline's mind off balance. "God, no. No! Never!" She wonders if Kate is testing her. "Why? Have you?" she asks, almost a challenge, a dare her to say it.

Kate smiles like someone who has a smug secret and won't tell. She says, "Mike loves to see girls together — don't you, darling. Have you seen that film, The Vampire Lovers, Caz?"

"Caz doesn't like horror films," Joe says. "She always closes her eyes when anything scary comes on."

"Awww. How cute is she? Aren't you the lucky boy to have a  such a sweet wife."

"Love Story's her favourite," Joe says.

"I can imagine," Kate says

"Hey, you two! I am still here, you know," Caroline says.

"Next time it's on the box you should both watch it — The Vampire Lovers, that is. You'll really enjoy it, Joe. Caz might even learn a thing or two," Kate says.

Mike has gone off to the small adjoining kitchen but soon returns with bottles of Stella for him and Joe. "Mmm. The Vampire Lovers. Now that's what I call a film," he says. "What about you, Joe?  You up for watching a little girl on girl action?"

"Yes, please. Let the pussy eating begin," Joe says.

Caroline glares at him. "Joe! Do you have to be so crude?"

He looks back at Caroline but cannot tell if she is pretending or is really pissed at him.

Kate is staring at her with a look in her eyes she has never seen before. Caroline holds her gaze, and something passes between them. For just a second, she imagines Kate's eyes are a man's.

"Why don't you go and sit with Kate on the sofa? "Joe says to his wife.

Caroline thinks it sounds too much like an order. "I'm okay where I am, thanks."

"... but don't you think some girls are beautiful?" Kate asks Caroline.

"Yeah, sure, but it doesn't mean I want to sleep with one."

"What about me? Do you think I'm attractive?"

Caroline has never had a sexual thought about Kate in her life. To Caroline, she's just Kate, Mike's wife, not really even a friend. Sometimes she finds Kate's bumptiousness overpowering, especially when she's all done up for a night in town. Then she's all blonde and boobs, knows it and flaunts it. When she dances, men circle.

"You're gorgeous, Kate.  Caroline says.

"Thank you, babe," Kate says. Then she stands and slowly crosses the room to Caroline, her eyes never once wavering. Kate's bare legs in denim shorts are long and smooth, newly tanned from her fortnight in Majorca. Their approach unsettles Caroline, and she instinctively crosses her legs as Kate lowers herself to sit at Caroline's feet.  An expanse of under-thigh is visible to Kate beneath Caroline's slightly hitched skirt. Kate casually takes the stockinged right foot that dangles from Caroline's left leg and begins to massage it between both her hands.

"Caroline ..." Kate says in her best pretty-please tone.

"Yes, Kate, sweetheart," Caroline responds, mockingly sweet. But she is already unnerved by the attention Kate now lavishes on her foot.

"I've just started this reflexology course, babe, and I need a guinea pig. Will you be my first client?"

"What's reflexology?" Caroline asks. Already she has uncrossed her legs and tucked her foot away behind her left calf.

"I massage different parts of your feet. Sometimes you can diagnose stuff.  And it relaxes you too."

"Oh," Caroline says, "I thought you did that Indian Head massage thingy."

"That was last year. It's feet this year." Kate turns to her husband. "Mike, would you bring the footstool over, I'm going to do Caz's feet. Thanks."

Mike brings over the stool and places it in front of Caroline. "Shouldn't those tights come off?" he says, looking at Caroline's calves and feet.

"I'm only going to give her a taster tonight. If she likes, we can do the full thing another day — with oils and everything."

Kate gently lifts Caroline's feet onto the stool and places them on the balls of their heels to stand vertical, side by side. Caroline wriggles her toes in expectation as Kate begins using both hands to gently massage the balls of her feet. "Now, Caz, let yourself relax," Kate says. Her fingers probe deep into pliant soles, forcefully at times. Caroline is hardly at ease, but little by little she finds the overall effect pleasant, calming.

"How's that?" Kate asks but does not wait for an answer. "You have lovely feet, Caz," she says, affecting a dreamy tone that gives Caroline goosebumps. "So nicely proportioned, quite dainty, aren't they? What size are you?"

Caroline's voice is hushed, "Mmmm. Depends on the make. Mainly three 'n' half. Sometimes I need a four." As she speaks, Caroline feels herself slipping away from the world, her mind and body dissolving into the delicious torpor induced by Kate's fingers.

"You must have been curious about girls sometime?" Kate softly asks. Her voice is almost a whisper.

But the question shakes Caroline back into the room. "Other girls are just not my thing. Why, Kate?  Are you curious that way?"

"I've been curious a few times — and I still have three lives left. Meoow!"

Caroline wishes she had never asked. Kate's brazen pussycat sound unnerves her. She feels a visceral panic rising from a place deep inside.

Kate's fingers keep probing Caroline's feet, the pressure increasing in intensity. Her hands slowly move to massage the backs of Caroline's calves. Caroline tries to hide her unease at this growing intimacy by reaching for the magazine, makes a show of reading it. Her head is low, and like some of the wives within the pages, her face becomes hidden behind hanging hair. She leafs to the glossary and tries to memorise the abbreviations. She begins to see the magazine as the catalogued flora and fauna of a country she might soon have to visit.

"Mike, honey: why don't you give Caz a head massage — like I was showing you last month."

"Yeah sure," Mike says. Then he turns to Joe and says, "You're okay with us playing with your wife, aren't you, mate?"

"Yeah," Joe says, though Caroline detects a hint of reluctance in his answer.

Kate says, "If I press here," and does with rigid fingers, "it is supposed to stimulate the sexual impulse. Does it stimulate yours, babe?"

"I don't feel anything," Caroline says.

"Oh, that's a shame. How about if I do this?"
 
Kate's next move comes from a place so left field even Mike pauses his clumsy head massaging to make sure that he's not imagining things. Kate has bent forward and taken four of Caroline's smaller toes into her mouth and begun to lick and suck them. A gasp of breath-taken shock rushes from Caroline's lungs which encourages Kate to bite playfully. And then once again she sucks purposefully, mock-devours with greedy snarls; then it's back and forth, each toe on each foot is sucked in turn. Her saliva is rich and plentiful and quickly soaks the stocking mesh. She hams up her, "Mmmms," of pleasure as if Caroline's toes are some delicious entrée just served up, the main dish yet to begin.

Kate's eyes look up at Caroline, begging the girl's approval. They are bright with astonishment that she has abased herself in such a way with the young wife of her husband's friend. She had only intended a gentle foot massage, but the urge to lick and nip Caroline's toes had rushed upon her, and she had followed the urge. That the girl has not yet fled her advances encourages her.  

Kate's tongue is back down and curling beneath Caroline's nylon-sheathed piggies, and then there is a lingering traversal by lips and tongue over micromesh-encased soles, one and then the other. And after, to her heels, ankles. Kate rubs her cheek along the side of Caroline's left calf. Her blonde hair trails over Caroline's feet while both her hands inch further upward over her knees to slide under the hem of her light cotton skirt. Kate's mouth and lips trail languidly in their wake.

Caroline's eyes are fixed on the crown of blonde curls that creeps higher between her slightly parted legs. Both Kate's cheeks rub against her inner thighs as she pushes onward. She folds back Caroline's skirt to reveal black panties beneath the pale, sheer tights she wears pulled up high over her belly. Her underwear is all soft-focus beneath the fine mesh, her abdomen split into two halves by an unsightly seam.

This needs to stop, Caroline thinks; it is not who I am. But already her cunt is seeping the truth. She cannot move, her entire body is in civil disorder, roused to rebellion by the brain's idiotic demands to run from this growing pleasure.

On the telly, it's now Top of the Pops. Pan's People are dancing strangely to Bowie's "Space Oddity," re-released just that month. The song makes her feel as if she's drifting in space too. And just like Major Tom, there is nothing she can do . . . .

Mike looks down over the expanse of Caroline's chest, her flesh there is the colour of soft Brie, silky and pale, framed by the low-cut V of her cotton top. He moves his hands and begins to massage her shoulders, then his clammy palms go down to her upper chest, her cleavage drawing him down. Oh-so gently he slides a hand into each cup of her bra. His fingers go straight to her nipples, his knuckles pinching gently. It makes her shudder.

Mike is speaking softly, shushing a nervous filly. "You're safe with us, Caz. We've both waited so long for this to happen-- Kate especially. She thinks you're adorable. And since our moment together, I've thought of nothing else."

Caroline hates herself, thinks her compliance too easily won. But she can't help herself now. There's no going back. The pleasure their combined attention gives her is like nothing she has experienced with Joe. But why doesn't Joe say something? Surely he must be jealous; if not of Kate, he must be of Mike. She looks over to where he sits and sees him watching,  smiling. His hand is inside his jeans and the denim bulges. It is as if a small creature is burrowing, trying for daylight, fleeing the darkness beneath his zipper.

"Joe?" Her cry is a plea for an explanation.

"It's okay, babe. Just go with it."

Her head fills with images from the pages of the contact mag. And Kate's hands are high on the side her hips, and Mike kneads her breasts like farmhouse dough. Kate's hooking fingers curl over the waistband of Caroline's tights and gently pull at the stretching material, drawing it down over her legs. Her silky panties, inconsequential things, are taken too, and quickly discarded. Cool evening air on her smooth bare legs, Kate's hands on both her knees, easing them outwards as if opening double doors. Immediately, Caroline clamps her knees back together, only for Kate to repeat the manoeuvre. This time she keeps her hands in place and Caroline demurs no more.

Kate's face presses between Caroline's legs that are so wide at the knees but quickly narrow like perspective to the dark fork that is cracked and seeps. But all of that is obscured by Kate's fabulous blondness, her tongue, as it works, is hidden from Joe's sight. But he knows between the press of Kate's lips and Caroline's cunt, a tongue darts back and forth.

Caroline cannot surrender unconditionally to Mike and Kate until she understands why this has come about. She focuses on Joe, who remains seated across from her on the sofa, and her eyes appeal for an answer as to why he is allowing this to happen. She sees Joe's cock now fully released, swollen like she has never seen it before. He has it palmed. He squeezes the head softly.

She has become the dream girl of all the swingers that ever were, or will be; that special someone, the young girl every married couple hopes for. She never asked for this, and now thinks, why should she care what they do if Joe doesn't either.

MIke's face looms from above. He's smiling while both his hands continue to encompass each entire breast, hands that slacken and grip, slacken and grip, like a kitten's paws against a she-cat's fur. He's moaning as he massages, a protracted hum of sincere appreciation.

The slurp of Kate's mouth fails to convey the delicious sensation that flares between Caroline's legs. It is intense, like nothing ever. She fears her sex will sizzle and spit, release a stinging splatter.

And it's not only the absolute physical satisfaction of being sexually enjoyed by two others simultaneously that gives her such pleasure. The knowledge that another girl desires her so fully makes her smug. God, how Kate exhausts her body's treasures, goes about her lovemaking with an all-consuming need to take. But in that taking, that plundering, she gives more than she receives. She sends her tongue skidding and twisting deep into Caroline's labia's layered folds, and Caroline's mind is thrown beyond its limits. Joe has never brought her to such a pitch of need.

But to reap the full reward of surrender, Kate needs to shut out the identity of her same-sex lover, deny to herself that it is Kate between her legs, the casual friend she barely knows. Kate becomes the anonymous other of fantasy, and it allows Caroline a guiltless freedom to enjoy the attention of another girl.  

Caroline is filled with a sublime joy that this amorphous girl's tongue is sliding back and forth over her most delicate flesh. Previously, lesbian sex was a thing she could never have imagined, never in a million years could have entertained the idea of. She tries to visualise the process, the mechanics of this thing she now knows as cunnilingus, something Joe has managed to perform with some skill. She seeks to understand Kate's technique as her tongue shifts tack to slide up and down from clit to her perineum, and then back to clit— repeat. For a flashing instant, Kate's tongue wriggles absurdly in the smooth-walled crevice at the base of Caroline's buttocks. In spite of herself, Caroline lets out a deep, appreciative moan as an unannounced thrill tightens her anus. Her hips give pushback, an urging thrust to bring Kate's whipping tongue tip deeper still.

"We should take her upstairs," Mike says, more to himself than to Kate.

Kate's head emerges from between Caroline's tender inner thighs. She is flushed, distracted. It's as if she hardly knows where she is. "Oh god, Mike. Fuck the bed. She is so sweet down here; come and see— taste for yourself."

Mike's head takes the place of Kate's between Caroline's legs. Caroline doesn't even flinch at the changeover. She hasn't cum yet, though she totters on the brink. As long as they finish her, she no longer cares whose tongue spreads the icing on the cake.

At Mike's first taste of her cunt, Caroline's disappointment is immediate and sobering. His chin has an iron file rasp, and it breaks the spell cast by Kate's tender attention. His technique is less nuanced, an incontinent thrashing compared to Kate's delicate flickering. As he laps at her, his palms and fingers cradle each buttock cheek like soft and dumpy cherubs, occasionally plumping her flesh like cushions. Soon he's clutching her buttock flesh like an avarice-driven man his treasure, drawing them down to enfold his stubbled jaw.

Caroline had closed her eyes when Mike took Kate's place between her legs, but now she senses another face a fraction from her own. Moist air from an encroaching mouth is soft on her cheek, and she breathes in the faint perfume she knows is Kate signature, Smitty by L'Oreal. And subtle beneath her scent, her skin is redolent with Camay, the soap of her childhood. She opens her eyes and sees Kate's astonishing brown eyes filling the field of her vision.

Kate's lips are just inches from Caroline's as she says, "You are such a pretty, pretty girl, Caz. You don't know how long I've waited for this." And with that, a kiss begins that will stay with Caroline for the rest of her life.

At the moment before Kate's kiss, Caroline still has time to decline, to say I'm not curious after all. You've licked my cunt, and it's not for me. But no, that is not what Caroline says. Her passivity, her acquiescence, allow Kate's slick tongue to play momentarily about her lips before it plunges into the wettest of darknesses. It is as if Kate performs deep lesbian kisses routinely, is long-practised in the art. Caroline opens wide: the dentist needs to check. Kate's tongue comes and goes, is curled like some buffet morsel, all wrap and meaty centre. Caroline's tongue wants to play, but Kate's fingers take her lips and form puckered lips, fashions a cunt of her mouth for her tongue to mock-fuck. And all the time, Mike's laps at Caroline's cunt, determined but failing to conclude her in orgasm.

Caroline desperately wants to cum but can't. There are too many thoughts in her head; a  pandemonium of contrary urges that ride the debauched carousel that rotates again and again in her mind.

And now Mike is undoing his belt. His fly zip is yanked down. His cock is a Saturn 5 ready to go, needs only the okay from mission control. He kneels between her splayed legs and Caroline mechanically takes him in hand and guides him. He plunges into her like it's free-fall. How wet she is. There is no friction at all.

Caroline hears her husband's voice, as if from far away but coming nearer. He's calling to her... But it isn't her, Caroline, he speaks to, it's Mike: "Mike, no! I can't watch. I thought I could, but I can't. Please stop. Fucking stop, will you! Stop it now. Stop fucking my wife. Please!"

And everything does stop. It is like pause frame. Mike is motionless, his cock buried in Caroline's cunt, a sword in its scabbard to the hilt, his unseen balls dangling against her arse crack. Kate's expression, caught and held in the moment of her turning to look at Joe, is one of incomprehension.

Mike's groan of disappointment is hellish. He eases his cock from Caroline's cunt and sees it still ramrod hard. For a moment, he wonders what to do with its murderous need. Perhaps Kate might oblige. Then, the dawning realisation that the night has become a debacle, all his carefully laid plans shot to fuck. He wants to punch Joe. Barely prevents himself from doing so.

Raging from the knowledge of the thing that nearly was and now never will be, Mike punches the thin air and roars like it's karate. He bends and recovers his jeans from around his ankles and tucks away his quickly softening prick.

Caroline is bereft at the loss of Mike's cock from her cunt, already yearns for the older couple's tender attention. She was at the pitch of arousal, and now she is wretched. It takes her moment to understand why Joe had made them stop, to comprehend his jealousy.  When Caroline stands up, the hem of her light cotton skirt falls back in place just above her bare knees. She scans the floor in a half-dream looking for her underwear, sees her discarded tights like cast-aside snakeskin. She stoops to retrieve them along with her panties, holds them bunched in her clenched palms.

"We're going home," Joe says.

"You can't drive, you've had too much drink," Mike says. He is calming now. "Stay. We can talk this through." He thinks something can be salvaged.

Kate is checking her face in the mirror above the fireplace. She shakes her hair, brushes it from her eyes with her long-nailed fingers. Caroline watches her and thinks of the intimacy she has allowed this person. Her throat is dry, heart pounding. She feels lightheaded, swallows to allay her rising bile.

"Go phone them a taxi," Kate tells Mike. He goes off to the phone box on the corner and makes the call. While they wait, Caroline asks Kate for more gin-- if they have any left, that is. She is sorry to be a pest. Kate pours it neat. Caroline drinks it down and asks for more.

Silence in the back of the cab on the drive home. Joe and Caroline do not look at each other.  Later, back at home and after more gin, she and Joe talk.

"For fuck's sake, Joe. Why?"

"I couldn't stand to see you with him. When I saw his prick and how he shoved it into you— "

" —Not that. How you and Mike set this whole thing up."

"Oh, that. Mike told me about when you two kissed— that time when I was passed out— and how you were begging for it, so I thought you would be okay with what we planned.  He said I could have Kate after— when they were done with you."

"Is that what he really told you, that I was begging for it? Well, fuck him. Fuck you. If you must know, I told him no. And do you know why, Joe?" She does not wait for his reply. "I told him 'no' because I love you, Joe. Just you!  He wanted me so bad, Joe. I could feel him against me, how much... and I said no. But I wish I'd said yes now, had let him fuck me with you asleep only inches away.  And do you know what, Joe? Tonight his cock felt so good inside me." She empties her glass, stands up to get a refill from the pull-down cabinet in the G-plan wall unit. "So you thought you'd pimp me out to them just so that you could get your end away with that tacky blonde slut?"

"If you hate her so much, why didn't you make her stop instead of playing hard to get?"

"You saw how it was. I didn't realise..." But she realises now that she does not know why she allowed what she did. "You still don't get it, do you?" she says, hardly sure she gets it herself.

"Do you think they'll invite us again?" Joe asks.

"Really? Is that what you want? If they do, it'll be just you three. You can count me out. So no, I don't think they will. Do you?"

"You might feel different in a few days."

"And that crap about a new telly: all bullshit!"

"It seemed a good idea when Mike suggested it... I really wanted to see you and Kate together."

"Blokes might think Kate is gorgeous, but she's just Kate to me; a woman married to someone my husband knows. God, I let her kiss me! What was I thinking?"

"She licked your pussy."

"Haha. I could live with that, but kissing another girl on the lips is something else completely. It's like men and prostitutes."

"I never understood that. Surely fucking is more intimate than kissing."

"You're a bloke, Joe. If you don't understand, I can't be bothered explaining."

"But you could with Mike?"

"Not after this. Jeez! Perhaps if you'd asked first, talked it over with me—  I can't believe how conviving you two have been."

"Kate was up for it too."

"Oh, Kate was up for it too, was she?" Oh, I missed that. How obtuse of me. It went right over my head, did that one." She feels her anger rising. "Tonight should never have happened. They caught me off-guard. Promise me, Joe. No more secret plans, no more fooling about with friends."

"Could you, with some other girl?"

"God, Joe. You're obsessed. Does it mean that much to you? Oh, I don't know. I'd never thought about it until I saw that stupid magazine."

"That magazine really got under your skin."

"This would never have happened if not for that bloody thing. I didn't know there were such things— that people were like that," she says.

"Me neither."

They sip their drinks lost in thought. She's calmer now. "Did you see . . ." she stops and look into his eye and hold his gaze before continuing, ". . . see anyone you liked?"

He's thinking. Finally, he says, "Some of the younger wives were okay. There was a couple the same age as us. Did you see? If we found a couple where it would just be the wives together... What d you think?"

"There were a few like that," she says. "But I like cock, Joe. We're never going to agree, are we?"

"You looked for longer than I did."

"It would be interesting..." She speaks slowly, well-considered words, but ones that trail away. She is not brave, decides it is a thought best not voiced.

"—Go on, say it." His eyes urge confession.

"If we did an ad ourselves... Just to see what kind of people replied. We wouldn't have to meet them, or anything. It would be interesting, that's all, seeing their photos, where they came from— don't you think?"

"But would you be okay with your photo out there?"

"We can hide our faces," she says.

"But eventually someone would want to see who we were," Joe says.

"But it'd never get that far. I just want to see who replies, that's all. I'd like to see what kind of people would."

"People like Mike and Kate, that's who."

"Not necessarily."

"We'd need a camera that develops film," he says. "Do you really want to spend the money?"

I have my birthday money from Mum and Dad."

"It's your money."

"That's settled then."
                                      
                                             ****************

                                            To be continued