He congratulated himself on the fact that tonight he would reap a special benefit from the deflowering about to be played out before him. Fritz Schneider had paid Olaf to keep a close detailed watch on the couple. The reasons for Schneider's interest had not been disclosed to the Swede, nor did Olaf feel compelled to ask. Schneider was a clever character and was always up to something lucrative, and Olaf felt lucky to be involved in intrigue with the German. Besides, he had received a sizable lump of cash for his spying efforts.

Olaf rubbed the crotch of his pants, feeling the pulsating ridge of his thickening cock jerk up in arousal as he thought how both he and Jack Thompson were waiting for the same thing.

Now Becky walked out of the bathroom, her flimsy nightgown clinging to her ripe young body and exposing the curved half-moons of her buttocks which undulated provocatively beneath the transparent material. She stood at the mirror like a work of classical sculpture, combing out her long honey-blonde hair with brisk strokes of a brush, then set the brush down on the bureau top. Olaf's eyes moved from the sensuous young curves of her hips up to her voluptuously rounded breasts. They were set close together, and through the thin covering, he could see their tiny pink nipples rising into tantalizing little buds. Damn! Wouldn't he like to get his hands and mouth around those!

"You know, I just can't wait a goddamn minute longer," Thompson's voice broke the momentary silence.

The curvaceous young blonde stood back against the marble-topped bureau. Her eyes flickered down across her husband's leanly muscular body to the obvious bulge of his slacks. She saw him getting up from the bed, a twisted grin sweeping across his face, and suddenly she was terror-stricken.

"Why… Jack… I thought maybe we'd have a drink, I mean," her words were cut off as he thrust his massive chest against her ripely quivering breasts, embraced her, and splurged his tongue wetly into her mouth.