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The passions that many people hold hidden from view are frequently brought out under duress or tempting conditions.
A woman attending a cocktail party may, after a few drinks too many, lose all inhibitions and take on all comers, male and female alike. A struggling executive suddenly placed in a position of trust and confidence may fall victim to greed and embezzle funds from his employer. Or a couple, responding to group pressure, may join a neighborhood mate-swapping clique. All are responses to unusual stimuli.
Lisa Haley is one of these outwardly proper and quite normal people. But within her a love of perversity and a depth of passion she never dreamed existed lie coiled like snakes, awaiting only the proper stimulus to arouse them.
CAPTIVE WIFE—a fictional story about a society that refuses to face many of its real problems.
A simple library book. It was one of those explicit new sex manuals. I checked it out because of curiosity—and became more and more curious with each page after I had it home.
It was hard to believe they were putting out such stuff for consumption by the general public. Not only was the text replete with the vernacular for the organs and functions of sex, the pictures were totally candid. In other words, when the author referred to a couple making love, there was an accompanying drawing of the act. The pictures were so life-like they looked as though they had been painted by Norman Rockwell.
Nothing was left to the imagination. If the other referred to some specific position of intercourse, you saw it; the prick going into the cunt and everything.
I tried not to get horny while I was reading it, but I couldn’t help myself. Those cocks were realistic; the cunts so hairy and glistening.
. . . Pricks and cunts I started calling them in my mind. Cocks and pussies.
Then I started saying it. “Look at that big prick in that tight pussy,” I heard myself drooling. I found myself touching the obscene drawing, imagining I could feel the turgid organs throb with arousal.
“No, no!” I abruptly chastized myself. “This is wrong. I musn’t do this.”
I closed the book and put it aside. However, as I leaned over, my thighs came together and told me I couldn’t turn it off just like that. They were damp and hot.
Feeling uncomfortable, I squirmed in my chair. There was a tell-tale squish.
My pussy was sopping wet.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.