Intimate Vacation Pictures Ch. 04

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Boss plots their absolute humiliation.
2.9k words
4.38
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Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 11/01/2022
Created 07/01/2013
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It was noon and the sun was streaming in their bedroom window when Lawrence finally wakened her. She complained that her head was aching and she got up to brush her teeth because she had a bad taste in her mouth. Lawrence couldn't tell if she remembered anything from the night before and wasn't about to remind her anyway. He had scooped up her little black dress and put it at the bottom of the dry cleaning bag as soon as she had taken it off last night. There was no underwear to dispose of since she hadn't worn a bra and Randy had pocketed her panties. He had thought all of the obvious evidence was gone when he caught sight of three tell-tale hickies on her ivory flesh. Anger flared in Lawrence's gut. Goddam Randy had to mark her. He had to leave his mark to remind them both.

Elisabeth had stopped in front of the mirror examining the purplish mark on her breast. It could have been a bruise from an accidental bump, but the two low down on her belly were obviously love bites put there to jog her memory of the night before. It was like a dream for Elisabeth, too carnal and wild, yet all too intense to be fantasy. The suck marks on her mound were graphic enough to tell their own story but the smooth lips where someone had shaved off her pubic hair should have left her no doubt that she had been violated.

In the back of her mind Elisabeth could remember being naked with people around her. A sequence thread reminded her of men laughing, touching her intimately and yes ... explosive orgasms. She swallowed hard and her jaw felt stiff. An image of cum filling her mouth and gagging on cock flickered in her thoughts. Instinctively, she ran her fingers over the hickeys on her mound and she felt the tenderness of her lips and clit, the ache from her pubic bone where it had been pummeled relentlessly.

Gingerly, she slid her hand around to the back and felt the soreness in her bum and knew the vague memories of being held by the hips and bred like an animal were all true. There was a row of dime sized discolorations on each hip where strong finger tips had dug in dragging her back onto the pounding cocks.

She looked at Lawrence for reassurance, hoping beyond hope that he didn't know what had happened to her. He'd be so shattered if he knew, so devastated. She spread her fingers modestly over her mound and turned away so he wouldn't see the tell-tale marks. Even that gentle touch from her own hand reawakened a tired and tortured libido. The smooth skin, where the hair had been, felt exotic and forbidden.

She had no recollection of why or how she would have shaved it off or, if it was taken from her. The thought terrified her but it comforted too. Perhaps it hadn't been her fault. She wanted to think that. If someone had.... Oh god! Supposing she had let someone do that to her. She couldn't have ...wouldn't have. The thought brought an image of vulgarity with it; showing herself, lying with the soles of her feet pressed together while rough hands, men's hands, took charge of her private place; her labia being pinched and stretched, tightening the skin to allow the razor to skim off the remaining fuzz. It was too vivid to be false, yet the thoughts would not come into sharper focus beyond a series of vignettes without real substance or connection. She had never felt this way before; deeply shamed but undeniably, wickedly aroused. She felt she must have cheated. The evidence was obvious but the memory was not. She knew it but prayed that her husband did not.

Stepping into the bathroom, the door was scarcely closed when her middle finger parted the puffy lips and sought to recreate the pleasure that had overwhelmed her. She sat on the commode and spread her legs wide watching her fingers slide through the buttery lips. Her clit looked swollen and it felt tender, overworked, yet she couldn't resist tapping it to send little shock waves of sensation through her belly. With its wrinkled hood rolled all the way back the rounded dome of her clit looked like a tiny cock straining for relief. For a moment, she let the hard button ride between her fingers while she imagined men using her touching and sucking, mocking her smuttiness, until an explosive orgasm sent her into spasms of pleasure. The sensation was so intense that she cried out.

Lawrence was knocking on the bathroom door asking if she was okay when the tremors finally left her body. "Yes," she answered feebly, not wanting him to know anything. But he did know. "She's playing with her cunt," he smiled to himself. Too modest to let him watch her masturbate, she'd always refused whenever he'd asked her. Now, the image of her fingering herself, after what had happened the night before, caused a stirring in Lawrence's groin. "The little cunt..." he mused and then bit his lip remembering that was the way Randy had described her. They'd all had her and it was his wife who could not get enough.

The young husband had no idea how to explain what they had put her through. He did worry that there were enough obvious clues for his wife to figure it out and for her to implicate him. At the very least, she must be wondering what happened to her cunt hair. The memory of her lying back, languidly spreading her legs while his three co-workers denuded her private area gave Lawrence a full hard on. "She let them do it," he reasoned. "It was her own fault and her complicity took away any plausible deniability she might have had," he decided, absolving himself of all responsibility. "The video would show that," he assured himself. The memory of how her hips had risen, lifting her sex toward the fingers touching her, willingly urging them to enjoy her, reaffirmed his assessment.

It was right after that Randy had painted her for a third time. The reaction was instant. The men held her hands preventing her from touching herself while she writhed and wept for relief. They made her beg pitifully in words she would never ever use while they laughingly refused her supplications. She had wanted it so badly and they'd made a game of denying her, making her debase herself even further. He knew last night when he watched her that their relationship would never be the same. Now, when he heard her pleasuring herself in the bathroom he was sure of it.

The weekend passed uneventfully with Lawrence busying himself Saturday with outside chores. Elisabeth had decided to go to her mother's to help out over there and ended up staying the night when it became too late to drive home. On Sunday, she came home late in the afternoon and kept to herself, then stayed up to watch the late movie, waiting until she was sure he was asleep before she slid in beside him. She lay awake listening to his breathing, comforted by his closeness but confused by the turmoil that roiled within her. Lewd, disjointed fragments would not knit into coherent thoughts that could explain the tell-tale signs of infidelity that covered her. The raspiness in her throat, the stiffness in her neck and the soreness in her private area were damning enough, but the yellowing hickies on her breasts and mound left little doubt that she had broken the sacred vows she shared with her husband. She wondered whether her lack of recall was her body's defense against having to admit the obvious. She had cheated and she didn't even know why or with who. She wanted to cuddle against Lawrence, open her soul and ask his forgiveness but she feared his disappointment and his rejection. For now she would keep her distance, let her body heal and wait for a better time. With any luck that time would never come and she'd never have to confront her shameful unfaithfulness.

Even though it was Elisabeth avoiding him, the respite from having to deal with her face-to-face was a welcome break for Lawrence. Still, he was constantly aware that each hour that ticked by brought him closer to a return to work and the inevitable confrontation with Randy and the others. He rehearsed and rejected a dozen different scenarios where he would take control of the situation. In the end it was an exercise in futility. He realized that he was inevitably at his boss's mercy. In a moment of conviction on Saturday when Elisabeth was away, he threw out the packet of white tablets and the vial of liquid Randy had given him. Later, he returned to the garage and retrieved them, not wanting to anger Randy and make things worse. In bed, he tossed and turned, waiting for Elisabeth to come to him. When she didn't, he masturbated to the vivid images of her willingly giving herself to his coworkers. He fed his lust on the vivid images of her gasping in the pleasure of the other men's cocks and he blamed her so he didn't have to blame himself.

Monday brought a few hours of reprieve as Randy took a rare morning off. It allowed Lawrence to bury himself in his work and shut out the relentless replay of Friday's fiasco. It was almost noon when a shadow crossed his desk and he looked up into the grinning face of Robert. A wave of malicious contempt flooded his veins as he rolled his chair back and looked venomously at his wife's tormentor.

"How's the wife?" Robert chirped. "I suppose in some ways I can answer that as well as you," he continued mirthlessly.

He wanted to stand up and abruptly drive his knee into Robert's groin but the man's smirk was a reminder of his own vulnerability. As bad as things were, Lawrence knew they could get worse if he acted imprudently. Instead he waited for Robert to state his business or give a reason for being there hovering over his desk. It didn't take long. "Randy called. He wants to know where Elisabeth is. She hasn't been home all morning."

Lawrence was thunderstruck. Randy's audacity left him nearly speechless. While he was there working, his boss was making uninvited calls on his wife. "She's not there," he blurted out. "Gone to visit her cousin in Phoenix," he improvised trying to think of somewhere far away.

Robert studied him carefully trying to determine if he was lying. "What about her job? She was supposed to be back to work tomorrow according to what she told us on Friday."

"She's taking some time off ," he snapped. "Not that it's any of your business."

Robert's disdainful smirk ended the conversation as he turned on his heel and walked away.

Lawrence unsuccessfully dialed their home number every ten minutes until Randy walked into work half an hour before quitting time. Without speaking to anyone, he strode by and slammed his office door giving everyone a clear message to stay away.

The need to speak to him and the fear of doing so wrestled in Lawrence's gut without resolution. The possibility that they had been together offered itself as an explanation for Elisabeth not answering the phone but Lawrence did not want to believe it. He took Randy's anger as reassurance that the boss's afternoon had been unsuccessful and that was good news.

Supper was a quiet affair with a thousand questions in Lawrence's mind begging to be asked but no courage in his heart to actually ask them. Elizabeth chattered on talking about nothing without ever touching on where she had been or what she had been doing all afternoon. Even the fact that they were eating take-out food from Boston Market was unusual for a weekday but his pretty wife neither acknowledged she'd bought their dinner nor explained why she hadn't cooked. Lawrence's mind raced between possibilities seizing and discarding them as each new thought became more unlikely than the last. Changing his clothes before dinner, he'd pulled off the duvet to check the sheets on their bed. His pajamas, folded neatly beneath his pillow the way they always were eased his mind somewhat. Yet, coming downstairs it occurred to him that they could have had sex on top of the bedspread and he went back up to run his hands over it searching for tell-tale wet spots on the brocade. On his second trip down the stairs he realized that finding such evidence would only deepen his anguish without solving his problem.

He heard Elisabeth's voice break through the wall of preoccupation that occupied his mind. "You seem so absent minded dear. Are you sure you're okay? Did work go all right?"

Before he could help himself he had blurted out a demanding "Where the fuck were you all day? I tried to call you a dozen times at least!"

Elisabeth looked nonplussed. Her hesitation made her seem guilty of something, anything, although she had no idea what. "I was at my Mom's," she stammered. "We wallpapered their little bathroom. I left after five and just had time to pick something up for dinner... I ... I didn't think you'd mind ..."

Lawrence glared at her, not wanting to accept her perfectly plausible explanation but knowing, without a doubt, she was telling the truth. "I was worried," he mumbled grumpily, wanting to end the exchange without having to explain further. "I guess I'm just over tired."

"I know the feeling," his wife sighed. "I still haven't recovered from Friday night!"

The admission landed like a toxic cloud between them sucking air and energy from their conversation. Both Lawrence and Elisabeth felt suddenly awkward. The young husband's eyes concentrated on his plate where he maneuvered peas into position with his fork and prayed she would change the subject. The more she dwelt on it the more chance his role in what happened could become obvious.

Elisabeth watched him in uncomfortable silence, acutely aware of the elephant in the room and of the glaring gaps in her recollection of Friday's events. She felt embarrassed without knowing why and aroused without any reason. Her panties were beyond moist again and the slutty feelings she'd been experiencing all weekend were back. An overpowering guilt made her want to hug her husband and apologize to him without knowing why she should. Her hand reached out to pat his thigh reassuringly and inadvertently brushed across his crotch. It surprised her that he was already hard. The second pass was more deliberate and she traced the outline of his prick gauging its tumescence by touch. She wanted to make up for whatever she had allowed to happen Friday night and sex was the easiest way,

The zipper on his pants slid down easily and her hand slipped inside to cup his balls. She laid her head on his chest so he wouldn't be able to tell that she was watching her own hand coaxing his cock. The clear viscous fluid was already coating his plum-like knob and she spread it around playfully before touching her fingertip to her tongue and tasting it with a shy smile. It seemed so forbidden, so deliciously indecent that her belly contracted with a pleasurable shudder. She could tell by the way that Lawrence shifted in his seat that he liked her touch. Lewd names and strange voices cluttered her battered thoughts in a way she had never experienced. In the maelstrom of madness that distorted every thought and action, she heard her own name linked with unspeakable vulgarities that both offended and excited her. The gentleness of sex with Lawrence was overpowered by the rough carnality of many hands squeezing, stroking, and opening her physically, emotionally, completely.

The smooth plum of Lawrence's cock bathed her tongue in his liquid but Elisabeth was remembering something different, something uncut and unforgiving pushing deep, pummeling her throat, making her gag repeatedly. She felt dirty and abused. Her tongue swirled over her husband's cock gathering his syrupy precum trying to mask the memories with the immediacy of the moment. But something deeper intruded like a disturbing vignette denying the completeness of her devotion. It was Lawrence's cock in her mouth but it was a thick, uncut cudgel pounding her throat that stuck in her mind. As clear as if it was happening then she could hear a stranger's voice belittling her.

Lawrence was moaning while his cock coated her tongue with his cum. Not the torrent that last Friday night had flooded her mouth to overflowing choking her with its abundance, but a modest load that she swallowed easily. For a few minutes she nursed on his softening member wanting to recreate the feelings of helplessness that would have allowed her absolution for her unfaithfulness. It excited her to remember having her nose buried in a forest of coarse pubic hair while an uncut cock had possessed her mouth and throat.

It was too real to be imagination. The taste and texture, the size and thickness, and the sheer volume of cum that she had swallowed, made Lawrence's cock incapable of recreating those images. The humiliating words snapped through her thoughts like Tourette's and they made her yearn for their return. She felt she was the cocksucker they had urged her to be and she was the shameless cunt they said she was. They had used all of her openings and she had let them, welcomed them, encouraged them and now she yearned for them again. Lawrence must never know.

To be continued...

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  • COMMENTS
8 Comments
CreativeauthorbdsmCreativeauthorbdsmover 2 years ago

Good storyline and very descriptive detail!! The storage ago in many ways. Randy showing her the video but hiding Lawrences attendance at the gang bang, then blackmailing her for sex over and over so they will not tell her husband

BralessBobbiBralessBobbialmost 3 years ago

I love it. Please write more

stoneman1234stoneman1234almost 4 years ago
When the next chapter

Loved the story, please write the follow on. Thanks for such a great nasty tale. Can't wait to see what you do with these great characters.

blackgblackgover 8 years ago
This series is so hot!!!

Please continue this erotic story.

Looking forward to seeing what your creative mind can conjure up.

She is turning into the best kind of slut.

dallas2012dallas2012over 9 years ago
Best story I have read

I know Lawrence is weak but would love to see turn tables on Randy and rivals......

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