Teaching
Another Man's Wife
CHAPTER ONE
The warm spring had finally
come to Winter Garden, Florida. The light overland breeze from the nearby Gulf
of Mexico no longer held that slightly chill dampness of a week ago, and the
southern sun hanging low in the west was like a molten gold coin in the perfect
unbroken blue of the sky. Everybody was soaking up the sun, starting their
first tan of the year with the still gentle rays - another week and it would be
so scorching hot here by the pool the skin would blister and peel, but now it
would slowly foster a bronze, bum-proof skin good for the rest of the summer.
At the semi-exclusive
Teachers' Country Club, the fine weather had brought out the members in droves.
The swimming pool glistened blue-green beneath the gracefully dipping palm
trees, and the bolder teachers had come with their swim suits prepared to take
advantage of the inviting, freshly cleaned pool.
Lying side by side at the
edge of the sparkling clear water, two attractive wives so much alike they
could be twins were exposing as much of themselves to the sun as they could in
public. They lay as though asleep or dead, only the slow rise and fall of the
smooth tautness of their bellies attesting to the fact that they were very much
alive.
Watching the two blondes
sunning themselves, Fred Furbank wondered for the hundredth time why the one
who was Jonnie Synclair's wife, Linda, turned him on so much. Sure, she had
long, sleekly tapering legs that flared out from her wide inviting hips into
shapely thighs and calves. But so did his own wife Grace lying beside her.
True, she had firmly pointed breasts out to here, but they were no better than
Grace's. Fred couldn't deny that Linda Synclair had lusciously rounded
ass-cheeks, almost completely visible under the scanty bikini when she walked,
but Grace would not suffer from comparison.
Then, why, he asked himself
again, why did Jonnie's wife interest him so much he could hardly take his eyes
off her young body whenever they were together? Fred Furbank looked back and
forth from his wife to his friend's wife over and over, at the same time
reminding himself that he had absolutely no complaints about his own wife as a
woman in bed. She was more than enough for any man, even one as naturally horny
as he himself had always been.
Suddenly, he thought he had
the answer to his own question. Maybe it was because Linda Synclair thought she
was above it all. She was so aloof in her manner that it somehow bugged Fred
Furbank. It was as though she knew his mind was obsessed by sex and passion,
and to her that made him dirty, beneath contempt. She never seemed to vie with
the other women for the attentions of men, no matter on how innocent a level it
was conducted. Most of the wives occasionally flirted with husbands not their
own, even the women who would never dream of being unfaithful and going to bed
with another man. But Linda had had a very puritanical upbringing. She thought
that that kind of thing with any man except her own husband was an unforgivable
transgression against her marriage vows. In other words, he thought, she was
what he called a goody-goody girl, and such people always presented a challenge
to him he could not ignore.
It was true, he reflected,
that the Synclairs had been married only a few weeks, and maybe her attitude
was understandable. But Furbank and Jonnie Synclair had been colleagues as high
school coaches for a long time, and he had known his friend's new bride Linda
almost as long as her husband. They had been dating each other for over a year
before finally getting married, and from Jonnie's stories, as well as from his
own personal observations, Fred had sized up her prudishness. He had even
warned Jonnie in private that such a woman might prove to be a problem after
they were married. Naturally, Jonnie could only think of the delights her body
promised him, and Linda had had enough instinctive femininity to let Jonnie get
tantalizingly close from time to time, always putting off the moment of truth
until after the wedding. The old carrot-in-front-of-the-horse game, Fred mused
sarcastically.
As he watched from his
rattan chair near the poolside where he and Jonnie Synclair had been having a
drink, the two wives walked past him toward the low diving board. They were
going to cool themselves in the water again after fifteen minutes in the hot,
slow-broiling sun. Fred Furbank deliberately let Linda Synclair catch him
staring lasciviously at her swinging loins barely covered by the brief white
bikini. When she walked, she inadvertently swayed her hips in an enticing
manner that some women had to practice for years. Her blue eyes opened wide at
his undisguised interest, and he playfully winked at her, making the action
obscenely suggestive enough to make her blush. She jerked her head disdainfully,
turning her eyes away from his and forming a little pout of disgust with her
full lips that had a damp sparkle to them.
He decided then and there
that he would find a way to get into her prissy little panties, and soon. He
would teach her to treat his natural impulses as though they were crude and
coarse. The self-satisfied little bitch, he growled softly to himself as he
made a forced smile for his wife's benefit. He could see that Grace had noticed
what had happened and sensed what his reaction would be. Thank God, he thought,
that Grace felt about these matters just as he did. In the past she had even
helped him to make out with other women, and he had never hesitated to let her
have a little fun on the side either. They had found after the first five years
of their marriage that an occasional taste of "strange", as they called it,
made what they had together even better.
As the wives climbed the
short ladder to the diving board, Fred glanced toward the self-service bar to
see if he could spot Jonnie getting them new gin and tonics.
As her hands grasped the
cool metal of the iron ladder, Linda Synclair stole another secret look at Fred
Furbank, his head turned away as if he were looking for someone. What a
disgusting man, the lovely young blonde thought. Although she knew he couldn't
be over thirty-five at the most, he had developed a slight paunch from
inactivity, his otherwise muscular body slightly flabby for the same reason.
She could see that he must have been a well-built, ruggedly handsome man at one
time like her husband Jonnie, and she hoped that Jonnie would take better care
of himself than that. Fred's stomach was covered by coarse black strands of
hair thickening toward the waistband of his scarlet swimming trunks, but that
wouldn't bother her if it weren't for the slight bulge. And the thinning hair
forming a black widow's peak above his forehead would look distinguished if his
face beneath weren't so vulgar with the full sensual lips and deep-set dark
eyes that always seemed to be undressing women.
She reached the top of the
ladder and watched Grace ahead of her preparing to take a dive. Still young and
vivacious at twenty-eight, it would be easy to believe it if Grace said she was
twenty-one. Her flesh was still smooth and supple, even at the creased juncture
of her upper thighs and softly rounded buttocks where most women started
showing their age very early. As Linda watched her friend in front of her flex
her calf muscles and prepare to make a spring, she wondered how such a sweet
girl could stand kissing her animal brute of a husband, not to mention having
his rough hirsute fingers touching the tender curves of her body. Shivering
slightly as she thought of it, Linda told herself it was bad enough putting up
with the insistent nightly demands of her own husband Jonnie these last few
weeks, and she hoped and prayed that he would soon get over his initial hunger
for her flesh and settle for making love once or twice a week.
But he seemed to be getting
worse, not better, she reflected. Just last night, for instance, Jonnie had
tried to get her to put her mouth on him down there under the covers, only
giving up when she had burst into tears and begged him not to make her do it.
After that, he had mumbled something she didn't understand under his breath and
turned on his side, his back to her.
The innocent young bride
still couldn't quite believe that the man she had married had tried to force
her to do that. It was something she had only heard some of the bolder girls at
school whispering about, an act so obviously perverse and degrading that she
was sure only the most debased and lewd professional prostitutes would submit
to performing it on any man.