Love Net

Martha had a high-paying job as a financial analyst, but she was often bewildered by the restlessness in her body. Finally, she fell into a trap—a simple command that could infiltrate her computer network at any moment. Torn between resistance and acceptance, she wavered and struggled, but ultimately she bravely went forward. She had to challenge the unpredictable world of desire; she had to win the light hidden deep beneath the darkness.

Chapter One:

The early summer sunlight caressed Martha's bare skin like a lover's fingertips. She rolled over comfortably like a cat, searching for the warmth of Richard's body.

Richard was still snoring. Martha's fingers playfully traced the long curve of his spine, her pointed little nails just lightly touching the downy hair on his bronze skin.

"Wake up, Richard," she whispered, breathing into his neck and kissing it. "Wake up, make love with me."

A slight smile appeared on Richard's face, his lips twitching. This indicated he was fully awake. Just as Martha thought he would play dead forever, his eyelids snapped open, his blue eyes gleaming in the morning light. He rolled over abruptly, lying on his back, grabbed her arm, pulled her onto himself, and pressed her into his suddenly passionate embrace.

Her legs parted as she sat on his strong body, her pubic bone pressing against his throbbing erection. This erection had been like a sleeping snake lying flat on his flat stomach. She would soon awaken it.

It felt good to lie on him like this.

She began to rub her pubic bone against his erect penis, writhing against him with her entire body weight, forcing him to acknowledge the power of her desire.

“Crazy girl, I have to teach you a lesson.”

He reached behind her, ripped off her thin silk nightgown, and slapped her bare back hard. She screamed and tried to break free, but he held her firmly, determined to take full advantage of his position. His hands rained down on her bare buttocks, stinging and reddening her skin. But more than that, accompanying the pain and humiliation was a more alluring sensation, a tingling warmth that quickly spread deep into her heart.

Now, fueled by lust, Martha's genitals were burning, throbbing, almost ablaze.

Her clitoris swelled into a hard bud, throbbing with urgent need. All pain and anger were cast aside; she no longer struggled, but instead surrendered her desire to her husband. He was already panting, each loud, forceful slap on her back further stimulating his own throbbing penis.

To help him, Martha slid one hand between their bodies, successfully grasping his warm embrace, sliding off him, and kneeling between his thighs. She bent down, took his penis in her mouth, and sucked on it, making it even harder. It tasted slightly alkaline, like some real sea creature, freshly pulled from the ocean. She imagined herself and Richard in cold water, deep in the waves, tightly connected, needing no breath, only kissing, sucking, and making love.

She knew he would endure the pleasurable torment of her tongue for a while, but he wouldn't let her suck him to orgasm. Richard now desperately wanted to be close to her, to be inside her. She let her pry open his mouth and let him go, hoping he would be bolder than usual today. Perhaps he would even repeat that intoxicatingly beautiful night not long ago, when he threw her forcefully onto the living room floor, carefully spread her buttocks, and plunged deep into her body like a knife into butter. Even now, recalling his wonderful wildness, she found herself wet.

But nothing happened. Although she was certain Richard had beaten her back red, and she flinched in pain when he turned her over onto her back and spread her legs, Richard ignored her back pain. Now she had him fully awake, and he needed her, needed her right now. He didn't even want to spend time caressing her breasts under her nightgown, or stimulating her clitoris with his fingers as usual.

He very gently parted her labia, positioning the head of his penis at the entrance to her vagina. In one stroke, he was inside her. Martha groaned, thrusting her hips upwards to let him penetrate her even deeper. She scratched and clawed at his bare back with her fingernails, trying to arouse him to display some intense passion. She wanted him to see her as an animal, so as Richard's penis slid in and out of her vagina, she imagined herself as a forest animal, being ridden by a roaring beast whose penis was already hot when it entered her vagina, and whose insertion was devoid of any feigned gentleness.

She tried to stimulate him with screams and powerful thrusts of her hips, but Richard remained, and truly was, a polite man, continuing to make love to her gently, as if the passion aroused in him by her bare back embarrassed him.

“Take me! Take me hard! Ride me, oh, ride me!”

He couldn’t have done it more effectively before if he wanted to punish her. Even though Martha’s clitoris was almost throbbing with pain, she couldn’t reach orgasm. Richard sighed. He thrust into her, kissed her, and rolled over onto his back. Clearly, he had no idea he hadn’t satisfied her again.

Enraged, Martha grabbed one of his hands, placed it between her legs, and forced him to scoop up his own semen and rub it into her engorged clitoris.

“I’m sorry, darling. Didn’t you orgasm?” Richard realized his mistake and began to gently glide his semen over her clitoris. Gradually, Martha became immersed in physical pleasure, forgiving him despite her anger.

Her climax bathed her in warm waves, and she easily buried her head in the bed.

They lay together for a while, feeling languid in the morning sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds. Richard was clearly satisfied; he lay there, his arm around Martha, one hand caressing her breast.

But Martha was uncomfortable; she was still unsatisfied. She needed more—something more passionate, beyond safe boundaries, pleasant, and sociable. What was it? Danger? Pain? Or fear? She didn't know. But her clitoris was hard and throbbing again, requiring attention.

As Richard got up to shower, Martha pulled up the bedspread and playfully slipped her hand under the sheet.

She closed her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips, and began to caress the curves of her body.

She was a very attractive woman, without a doubt; other women might worry about their bodies, but Martha didn't.她年轻的时候就有几个男人和一两个女人追求她。他们只是太相信她是个令人称心如意的人。她不是一般的美丽--不，她一头浓密的红头发披散在脸旁，脸上的线条显明而富有活力，她不是古典式的美丽。她的眼睛是一对海绿色的镜子，她的情人们沈缅于她的那双眼睛，但是她那双眼睛却很少暴露她自己感情的波动。

她一边用手指抚摸她那丰满的乳房，一边想像她理想的情人。这情人不是理查德，尽管他以自己的方式对她很好。总的说来，和理查德在一起她感到幸福，虽然有时侯他的和蔼可亲的冷漠使她发狂得想要揍他。或者她想要他揍她也是真的？

她的手指悄无声息地向下滑到她的腹部，伸到她浓密的阴毛里，把这一缕缕阴毛弄着玩，把它们缠绕在她的手指上。 She pulled them hard, first gently, then with more force, enjoying the wonderful pleasure of the pain that made her pubic bone hot and her swollen labia burning.

She reached her left hand to her nipples, caressing and pinching one, then the other, until she felt a warm, sensual warmth within her. Then, with the fingers of her right hand, she parted the petals of her vulva, inserting her index finger like a diver parting the warm waves of a tropical coral reef.

Soon, she found the throbbing tip of her clitoris. She longed to touch it, for she knew that touching it was some kind of harbinger of pleasure. Only Martha knew this secret code to the pinnacle of personal carnal pleasure, so she began to rub her clitoris—at first gently and slowly, then, as she felt the pleasure begin deep within her abdomen, she rubbed with greater force.

In her mind, she was making love to a man whose face she could not see. She knelt on the cold bricks, her hands on the ground, against the shadowy figure. The coolness of the stone felt good against her warm flesh, but it was better that her back felt hot, trembling from the cuts of the knife and the lashes of his whip. As he entered her from behind, though very roughly and without regard for her discomfort, only seeking his own climax, she writhed, feeling a surge of pleasure.

She dared not cry out, despite his forceful thrusts that pierced her back like needles, his penis relentlessly pounding against her cervix. She dared not utter a sound, for any disobedience would invite his severe punishment. Her

entire body was in the throes of ecstasy, like a clear, sea-green liquid poured into a crystal bottle, and then, Martha couldn't help but let out a joyful moan. She lay back on the bed, finally satisfied.

She opened her eyes and saw Richard standing in the doorway, his penis erect.

He smiled silently, then quietly slipped under the sheets, clearly having forgotten about bathing, his tongue probing deeply into her warm, amorous gift, licking away the sweet juices of her pleasurable deception.

Her sister's mischievous children, who had been playing there for a week, had now gone home, so no one was there to interfere with their late-night, lewd breakfast. But as usual, Richard had to go to work on weekends. Not long ago, Martha had decided on her own that nothing was more appealing than doing nothing but waiting.

She put on her pajamas, cleaned the potty, and then sprawled on the sofa, watching half an hour of children's television. She planned to take a quick shower and then check the financial markets on her computer.

But she felt languid, immersed in the sunlight and her desire.

She needed to take a nap, and when she awoke with a start, she realized: there was a sound, a rustling sound.

Someone was in the house!

She got up from the sofa, pulled her pajamas tighter, and quickly decided what to do. She grabbed a metal door closer for courage and tiptoed into the kitchen. She stared near the door.

Nothing. Nobody was there.

Then she felt a pair of hands: gently touching her, tightly embracing her shoulders, and pulling her back. Her pajamas slipped down, their silk fabric torn, leaving her naked and releasing her sensual scent into the warm morning air. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

Those hands grabbed her waist and spun her around.

“Hey, Martha, did I surprise you?”

Martha was stunned, staring blankly at Alex Donaldson’s face. She didn’t know whether to hit him or laugh.

“How did you get in? I never gave you a key.”

He grinned smugly like a mischievous high school student.

“You left the outer window half open. Easy to climb in. Have a piece of cake.” Noticing the fear on Martha’s face, he added, “It’s okay, nobody saw me. Our little secret is safe.”

She wanted to yell at him, to tell him that if he was just joking, he’d better forget about it. But he looked so shy, almost like a child, standing there with his strong hands gently resting on her hips, as if pleading with her to come to him, to forgive him, to do everything better.

His fingers moved from her waist and began to examine her. Martha looked down and saw her nightgown slip off her shoulders and fall to the floor, revealing her hard, glass-bud-like nipples and the golden-red triangle between her thighs. She stared, dumbfounded, as Alex's hands began to move over her pale skin. It felt as if she were inside another woman's body, experiencing all her sensations. She began to tremble with pleasure and sudden lust.

By any standard, Alex Donaldson was a handsome man: a full thirty-five, muscular, with a narrow waist, broad shoulders, healthy, sexy, with naturally wavy blond hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. For a financier who spent most of his day sitting behind a mahogany table in the city, there was hardly anything to expect. Martha could spend hours just stroking his smooth, firm muscles. But they rarely had hours of true pleasure. Their relationship was such that whenever they could find an excuse to be alone, they would seize the opportunity for private intimacy.

For Martha, this was easier. Leaving home for work, sitting at her computer terminal, all she had to do was connect to her answering machine, and the world could be forgotten. But it was different for Alex: every moment of his day was planned in advance. Besides, they couldn't let anyone else see them together. It wasn't that Richard would be furious: he was very understanding, very open-minded.

When Alex's strong, powerful fingers pulled and twisted her hardened nipples, Martha thought it was far too imperfect.

Most of the time, sex with Alex was quick, less-than-perfect lovemaking during half-hour breaks. But it was very passionate. The orgasms she and Alex experienced were far more intense than those she had with her husband—she was certain it was because of the dangerous thrill and the fear of being discovered. In hotel rooms, in storeroom cupboards, in the bushes just feet from the community garden parties, she enjoyed the pleasures of lovemaking with Alex. Without Alex, her life would be rather monotonous. Even with him, something seemed to be missing.

But today she wouldn't dwell on his shortcomings. Far from it. As she looked down at his hands, she noticed a bulge in the crotch of his hand-sewn suit. Instinctively, she reached out and touched it, letting its warm semen flow into her hand. His hardness, throbbing with life, possessed a passion that made her wet too, as expected.

He buried his nose in her neck.

"You exude a fragrance, my original post address: read-htm-tid-1931970.html, which only published one chapter.

Martha has a high-paying job as a financial analyst, but she is often confused about the restlessness in her body. Finally, she fell into a trap, which was just a command that could invade her computer network at any time. Between resistance and acceptance, she hesitated and struggled, but finally she bravely went on. She had to challenge the unpredictable world of desire, she had to win the light hidden deep in the darkness.

Chapter 1

The early summer sun caressed Martha's bare skin like a lover's fingertips. She turned over comfortably like a cat, searching for the warmth of Richard's body.

Richard was still snoring. Martha's fingers playfully traced the long curve of his spine, her sharp little fingernails just lightly touching the downy hair on his bronze skin.

"Wake up, Richard." She leaned closer, breathed on his neck, and kissed him. "Wake up, make love with me." "

A slight smile appeared on Richard's face, his lips twitching slightly. This indicated he was fully awake. Just as Martha thought he would play dead forever, his eyelids snapped open, his blue eyes gleaming in the morning light. He abruptly rolled over, lying on his back, grabbed her arm, pulled her onto himself, and pressed her into his suddenly passionate embrace.

Her legs parted as she sat on his strong body, her pubic bone pressing against his throbbing erection. This erection had been like a sleeping snake lying flat on his smooth belly. She would soon awaken it.

It felt good to lie on him like this.

She began to rub her pubic bone against his erect penis, writhing against him with her entire body weight, forcing him to acknowledge the power of her desire.

"Crazy girl, I'll have to teach you a lesson."

He reached behind her, ripped off her thin silk nightgown, and slapped her bare back hard. She screamed and tried to break free, but he held her firmly, determined to take full advantage of her position. His hands rained down on her bare buttocks, stinging and reddening her skin. But more than that, accompanying the pain and humiliation was a more alluring sensation, a tingling warmth that quickly spread deep into her heart.

Now, fueled by lust, Martha's genitals were burning, throbbing, almost ablaze.

Her clitoris swelled into a hard bud, throbbing with urgent need. All pain and anger were cast aside; she no longer struggled, but instead surrendered her desire to her husband. He was already panting, each loud, forceful slap on her back further stimulating his own throbbing penis.

To help him, Martha slid one hand between their bodies, successfully grasping his warm embrace, sliding off him, and kneeling between his thighs. She bent down, took his penis in her mouth, and sucked on it, making it even harder. It tasted slightly alkaline, like some real sea creature, freshly pulled from the ocean. She imagined herself and Richard in cold water, deep in the waves, tightly connected, needing no breath, only kissing, sucking, and making love.

She knew he would endure the pleasurable torment of her tongue for a while, but he wouldn't let her suck him to orgasm. Richard now desperately wanted to be close to her, to be inside her. She let her pry open his mouth and let him go, hoping he would be bolder than usual today. Perhaps he would even repeat that intoxicatingly beautiful night not long ago, when he threw her forcefully onto the living room floor, carefully spread her buttocks, and plunged deep into her body like a knife into butter. Even now, recalling his wonderful wildness, she found herself wet.

But nothing happened. Although she was certain Richard had beaten her back red, and she flinched in pain when he turned her over onto her back and spread her legs, Richard ignored her back pain. Now she had him fully awake, and he needed her, needed her right now. He didn't even want to spend time caressing her breasts under her nightgown, or stimulating her clitoris with his fingers as usual.

He very gently parted her labia, positioning the head of his penis at the entrance to her vagina. In one stroke, he was inside her. Martha groaned, thrusting her hips upwards to let him penetrate her even deeper. She scratched and clawed at his bare back with her fingernails, trying to arouse him to display some intense passion. She wanted him to see her as an animal, so as Richard's penis slid in and out of her vagina, she imagined herself as a forest animal, being ridden by a roaring beast whose penis was already hot when it entered her vagina, and whose insertion was devoid of any feigned gentleness.

She tried to stimulate him with screams and powerful thrusts of her hips, but Richard remained, and truly was, a polite man, continuing to make love to her gently, as if the passion aroused in him by her bare back embarrassed him.

“Take me! Take me hard! Ride me, oh, ride me!”

He couldn’t have done it more effectively before if he wanted to punish her. Even though Martha’s clitoris was almost throbbing with pain, she couldn’t reach orgasm. Richard sighed. He thrust into her, kissed her, and rolled over onto his back. Clearly, he had no idea he hadn’t satisfied her again.

Enraged, Martha grabbed one of his hands, placed it between her legs, and forced him to scoop up his own semen and rub it into her engorged clitoris.

“I’m sorry, darling. Didn’t you orgasm?” Richard realized his mistake and began to gently glide his semen over her clitoris. Gradually, Martha became immersed in physical pleasure, forgiving him despite her anger.

Her climax bathed her in warm waves, and she easily buried her head in the bed.

They lay together for a while, feeling languid in the morning sunlight streaming through the half-open blinds. Richard was clearly satisfied; he lay there, his arm around Martha, one hand caressing her breast.

But Martha was uncomfortable; she was still unsatisfied. She needed more—something more passionate, beyond safe boundaries, pleasant, and sociable. What was it? Danger? Pain? Or fear? She didn't know. But her clitoris was hard and throbbing again, requiring attention.

As Richard got up to shower, Martha pulled up the bedspread and playfully slipped her hand under the sheet.

She closed her eyes, a faint smile playing on her lips, and began to caress the curves of her body.

She was a very attractive woman, without a doubt; other women might worry about their bodies, but Martha didn't.她年轻的时候就有几个男人和一两个女人追求她。他们只是太相信她是个令人称心如意的人。她不是一般的美丽--不，她一头浓密的红头发披散在脸旁，脸上的线条显明而富有活力，她不是古典式的美丽。她的眼睛是一对海绿色的镜子，她的情人们沈缅于她的那双眼睛，但是她那双眼睛却很少暴露她自己感情的波动。

她一边用手指抚摸她那丰满的乳房，一边想像她理想的情人。这情人不是理查德，尽管他以自己的方式对她很好。总的说来，和理查德在一起她感到幸福，虽然有时侯他的和蔼可亲的冷漠使她发狂得想要揍他。或者她想要他揍她也是真的？

她的手指悄无声息地向下滑到她的腹部，伸到她浓密的阴毛里，把这一缕缕阴毛弄着玩，把它们缠绕在她的手指上。 She pulled at them, first gently, then with greater force, enjoying the exquisite pleasure of the pain that made her pubic bone burn and her swollen labia feel hot.

She reached her left hand to her nipples, caressing and pinching one, then the other, until she felt a warm, sensual sensation within her. Then, with the fingers of her right hand, she parted the petals of her vulva, inserting her index finger like a diver parting the warm waves of a tropical coral reef.

Soon, she found the throbbing tip of her clitoris. She longed to touch it, for she knew that touching it was some kind of harbinger of pleasure. Only Martha knew this secret code to the pinnacle of personal physical pleasure, so she began to rub her clitoris—at first gently and slowly, then, as she felt the pleasure begin deep within her abdomen, she rubbed with greater force.

In her mind, she was making love to a man whose face she couldn't see. Her hands were on the ground, kneeling on the cold bricks, a shadowy figure. The coolness of the stone felt good against her warm flesh, but it was the heat on her back, which trembled from the cuts and the lashes of his whip, that was truly pleasant. As he entered her from behind, though very roughly and without regard for her discomfort, only seeking his own climax, she writhed, feeling a strange pleasure within her.

She dared not cry out, though he thrust into her forcefully, causing her back to throb with pain, his penis relentlessly pounding against her cervix. She dared not utter a sound, for any disobedience would invite his severe punishment. Her

entire body was in the throes of ecstasy, like a clear, sea-green liquid being poured into a crystal bottle; then, Martha couldn't help but let out a pleasurable moan. She lay back on the bed, finally satisfied.

She opened her eyes and saw Richard standing in the doorway, his erect penis pointing upwards.

He smiled silently, then quietly slipped under the sheets, clearly having forgotten about bathing, his tongue probing deeply into her warm, amorous gift, licking away the sweet juices of her pleasurable deception.

Her sister's mischievous children, who had been playing there for a week, had now gone home, so no one was there to interfere with their late-night, lewd breakfast. But, as usual, Richard had to go to work. Not long ago, Martha had taken it upon herself to believe that nothing was more alluring than doing nothing but waiting.

She put on her pajamas, cleaned the potty, and then lazily stretched out on the sofa, watching half an hour of children's television. She planned to take a quick shower and then check the financial markets on her computer.

But she was immersed in the sunlight and her desire, feeling languid.

She needed to take a nap, and when she woke up with a start, she realized: there was a sound, a rustling sound.

Someone was in the house!

She got up from the sofa, pulled her pajamas tighter, and quickly decided what to do. She picked up an iron doorknob for courage and tiptoed into the kitchen. She stared near the door.

Nothing. There was no one there.

Then she felt a pair of hands: gently touching her, tightly embracing her shoulders, pulling her back. Her pajamas were unbuttoned and slipped down, their silk fabric tearing, leaving her naked, her sexual fragrance wafting into the warm morning air. She opened her mouth to shout, but no sound came out.

The hands grabbed her waist and spun her around.

“Hey, Martha, did I surprise you?”

Martha was stunned, staring blankly at Alex Donaldson’s face. She didn’t know whether to hit him or laugh.

“How did you get in? I never gave you a key.”

He grinned smugly like a mischievous high school student.

“You left the outer window half open. Easy to climb in. Have a piece of cake.” Noticing the look of fear on Martha’s face, he added, “It’s okay, no one saw me. Our little secret is safe.”

She wanted to yell at him, to tell him that if he was just joking, he’d better forget about it. But he looked so shy, almost like a child, standing there with his strong hands gently on her hips, as if pleading for her to come to him, forgive him, and do everything better.

His fingers moved from her waist and began to examine her. Martha looked down and saw her nightgown slip off her shoulders and fall to the floor, revealing her hard, glass-bud-like nipples and the golden-red triangle between her thighs. She stared, dumbfounded, as Alex's hands began to move over her pale skin. It felt as if she were inside another woman's body, experiencing all her sensations. She began to tremble with pleasure and sudden lust.

By any standard, Alex Donaldson was a handsome man: a full thirty-five, muscular, with a narrow waist, broad shoulders, healthy, sexy, with naturally wavy blond hair and a short, neatly trimmed beard. For a financier who spent most of his day sitting behind a mahogany table in the city, there was little to expect. Martha could spend hours just caressing his smooth, firm muscles. But they rarely had hours of pleasure together. Their relationship was such that wherever they could find an excuse to be alone, they would seize the opportunity for private trysts.

For Martha, this was easier. Leaving home for work, sitting at her computer terminal, all she had to do was connect to her answering machine, and the world could be forgotten. But it was different for Alex: every moment of his day was planned in advance. Besides, they couldn't let anyone see them together. It wasn't that Richard would be furious: he understood perfectly well; he was open-minded.

When Alex's strong, powerful fingers pulled and twisted her hardened nipples, Martha thought it was far too imperfect.

Most of the time, sex with Alex was quick, half-hourly, less-than-standard lovemaking. But it was very passionate. The orgasms she and Alex experienced were far more intense than those she had with her husband—she was sure it was because of the dangerous thrill and the fear of being discovered. In hotel rooms, in storeroom cupboards, in the bushes just feet from the community garden parties, she enjoyed lovemaking with Alex. Without Alex, her life would be quite monotonous. Even with him, something seemed to be missing.

But today she wouldn't dwell on his flaws. Far from it. As she looked down at his hands, she noticed a bulge in the crotch of his hand-stitched suit. Instinctively, she reached out and touched it, letting its warm semen flow into her hand. His hardness, throbbing with life, had a passion that made her wet too, which was expected.

He put his nose to her neck.

"You smell so good, my dear." He kissed her neck, her lips, her nape, her breasts. "It's a woman's scent."

She was still caressing his penis, sliding it up and down the zipper, feeling it swell, harden, and press against his trousers, feeling his pleasure. But as she reached for the zipper and pulled it down, he kissed her, stopping her, and, taking her by surprise, knelt before her, pressing his face against her pubic hair.

Martha began to moan softly as Alex's strong, powerful hands slid between her thighs, spreading them apart and forcing her feet to slide across the smooth, tiled floor. She looked down at her lover, dressed in a crisp black business uniform, his gold chain fastened to his bra. The white cuffs of his Streetwear shirt gleamed. She felt dizzy, disoriented. He seemed so distant, cold, perfect, inhuman. It

was as if she were being violated by a robot.

She wondered what it would be like to have a cold, steel penis inside her, moving in and out of her soft, wet vagina like some strange piston.

In, out; in, out; feeling the steam rising, ready to expel; metal and flesh in unnatural harmony.

Alex's face was pressed tightly against Martha's labia, his tongue searching the heart of her illicit affair. She exuded her sensual fragrance, a fleshy scent a mixture of Richard's semen, her own fluids, and sweat. And she knew he would smell and feel it too, and that it was stimulating him, driving him wild.

Her clitoris was already burning with desire, an unquenchable fire that could not be quelled without a man making love to her. She tried to tell Alex, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was the moan of a lustful harlot, a muffled cry of utterly exhausted lust.

Alex looked up at her. His lips were wet, carrying the mingled fragrance of her fluids and Richard's semen. His gaze held a symbol of her own wantonness, a tantalizing intensity that finally made her hear her own voice.

"Fuck me, Alex, please fuck me! Please fuck me."

She trembled like a little red doe, waiting for a stag to mount her.

She craved the wild, untamed pleasure of a beast, the simple, primal mating of a clearing in the woods.

As if sensing her desire, Alex leaped up and grabbed Martha's arm.

"You're hurting me! What are you doing?"

Alex didn't answer, dragging her through the kitchen, through the back door, and into the garden. Her silk nightgown slipped from her shoulders, dragging on the ground. She was now naked, vulnerable in the harsh August morning sun.

She looked up at his face, a shiver running through her; she knew what he wanted.

"No, Alex, we can't! Not here."

But Alex ignored her. Instead, he loosened the belt of her nightgown, yanked it off, and tossed it onto the warm grass under the apple tree.

Richard and Martha had chosen this small villa because it had an orchard: a dozen or so fruit trees, their gnarled branches arching over the lush lawn, some sections intertwining to form a dappled green canopy. At the end of the garden was a creek, on the other side of which were more small villas and a country shop. Further along the creek were more houses: some grand, opulent houses inhabited by respectable businessmen who, every Saturday night, would set up makeshift beds to make love with their wives. When she looked in their direction, Martha thought she saw the curtains fluttering and activity behind the kerosene lamp.

She raised her hands to cover what little shyness she had left, but Alex was utterly shameless. He gripped her wrists tightly, pulling her hands down, exposing her bare breasts to the summer sun, his eyes falling on whatever he happened to see.

Martha felt a little dizzy; she couldn't handle Alex's sudden, strange initiative. Fear of being seen by the stern neighbors made her tremble, but was it merely fear? Or was it the turmoil she felt inside? She thought of the colonel and his wife, and of old Mr. Pearson, who had probably been without a woman for twenty years. What would he think if he looked out the window now? Would his limp, old penis throb with life? Suddenly she wished she could imagine herself as a believer in the resurrection, the old man staring intently at her creamy breasts, at the beautiful, smooth curves of her hips, at the red triangle pointing to the entrance to her genitals. She imagined his trembling old hand clumsily unbuttoning his trousers, taking out his penis for the first time in years, and playing with it with almost forgotten skills.

What about James and Lacey's family in the big house? Martha was quite certain, Andrea. James Lacey hadn't experienced it in years. Her fat, middle-aged husband, working so many hours a day, couldn't possibly get an erection. She politely yielded to her lover's impetuous embrace, which was just now concealed by the arched branches of the apple tree. Then she thought, well, Andrea, this one is yours.

He seemed intent on forcing her to unleash all her charms, bending her body into various lewd poses. She was naked, stripped of all her secrets, while her energetic lover stood before her fully clothed, orchestrating her humiliation like a devilish circus director—how unbelievable it all seemed.

Now she bent backward, her knees bent, her supple spine arching, until finally her hands touched the soft grass, transforming her into a shameless four-legged creature, face to the sky, her genitals exposed to the eyes of the entire world.

The wind rustled through the apple trees. The hypnotic buzzing of bees indicated that secrets were no longer concealed, that there was a person whose greatest desire was also their greatest foundation. Martha willingly succumbed, welcoming it like a new lover; she had begun to realize that only new stimulation could completely eradicate her lethargy, which was constantly eroding her, threatening to seal her forever in the monotony of utter existence.

But her guilty, semi-realistic dream was not yet over. Alex's mask of a serious conqueror suddenly broke into a grin; he tilted his head back and laughed. A surge of heat had ceased, the decadent pleasure vanished in the blink of an eye.

Alex rolled her over, laying her on her back on the soft grass, and forcefully pulled off his belt, pouncing on her. She returned his embrace, immediately delighted by the novelty of this play, yet disappointed by the lack of ultimate satisfaction.

She touched, searching for his penis. In her palm, it was warm and smooth. Her fingers slid from the moist glans to the silky shaft below, lubricated by its own slick semen. The passage between her legs felt like a boiling river of desire, hot and wet, throbbing with its own secret rhythm. She longed for a finger on her clitoris, for a penis to tense her genitals, for a burst of intense, rapid thrusting to overwhelm her lust. The air was filled with an intoxicating fragrance emanating from her body, a mixture of semen and lust. Martha was dizzy with urgency.

"Fuck me, fuck me, do it now!"

With a single, forceful thrust, he slid into her, his fervent movements pressing her soft, white flesh against the tender branches and stones of the grass. This discomfort only aroused Martha further. As his hard member penetrated her, she gasped, desperately trying to hold onto him, her fingernails digging into his back through the fragile white fabric of his shirt. They embraced tightly, now completely oblivious to the prying eyes, straddling each other in anticipation of ultimate physical pleasure.

Martha's climax soon arrived. Waves of spasms were enough for Alex to ejaculate pearly semen into her again and again.

As they lay on the grass, panting with satisfied lust, Martha realized that there was another need within her, an unfulfilled need. This awareness filled her with fear, with a strange thrill she had never experienced before.

Alex was gone. Martha poured herself a glass of chilled wine and quickly took a shower. Just because her husband and his lover had abandoned her during the day didn't mean she couldn't indulge herself. She was already immersed in a sea of bubbles. Later

, she browsed the Lloyd's Poster and the Financial Times, then went to work, deciding to do some tasks.

The computer was in the back room downstairs, which Richard had considered using as a darkroom. But Martha immediately saw it could serve as an office. In that argument, as usual, she always won.

After all, if she was going to live far away from home to run her freelance writer management consulting business, she needed a decent office, which meant not being relegated to the kitchen or a kiosk.

She sat in front of the VDU, turned it on. The screen lit up, she inserted a floppy disk, typed in the command juno, and waited for the network to connect.

The financial markets were quiet today. The dollar was two pfennigs more than the German mark, but nothing would change the content of her report. She glanced at a set of charts and prepared several statistical tables for the next board meeting. If she started writing the report now, she could set a deadline of the following morning to deliver it to headquarters. When you're a freelance management consultant for the international conglomerate Glenwald and Baker, you can't afford to be careless.

She took out a folder, not looking at the blank pages, but finding herself staring suspiciously at a message slowly appearing on the screen:

Don't fool yourself, Martha. Your secrets are ours too. We know everything you do. Omega knows everything.

URL 1:https://www.sexlove5.com/htmlBlog/135186.html

URL 2:/Blog.aspx?id=135186&aspx=1

Previous Page : Tomorrow I'll be someone else's woman.

Next Page : My colleague's romantic troubles

增加

comment Open a new window to view comments

Contact Information

Love Net

comment Open a new window to view comments