There was no stopping her now, and the orgasm she needed so badly came closer by the minute, attacking her lust-wracked body like a swarm of voracious locusts settling on a rich green field. The mounting passion could be read even in her normally serene face, now contorted into an unrecognizable mask of lust, and she chanted softly to herself as she energetically lathered herself into a state of furious ecstasy.

It was just around the corner, only needing a few more deft touches to bring it on like an express train, and the half-demented girl had three fingers inside of her vaginal cavity now as the orgiastic fluid gushed out of her wetly pulsating cunt, dampening the sheet below her and filling the room with its pungent distinctive odor. Another touch, another caress and…

The doorbell rang!

"Oh Christ!" she groaned in agony, feeling the release she wanted so badly start to slip away from her, slowly but surely.

The doorbell sounded again insistently. Lynn lay still for a few seconds cursing this late intruder whomever he might be, and then darted for the bathroom to mop away most of the moisture from her inner thighs before slipping hastily into her dressing gown. It was nearly midnight, she remarked to herself. Who could possibly be visiting her at this hour?

Pulling the thin clinging dressing gown over her nakedness, the young blonde darted barefoot to the door, making sure that the safety chain was attached before she undid the lock.

"Who is it?" she called fearfully, a recognizable tremor in her voice.

"It's Phil, honey," came the relaxed, easy tones of the television executive who was her husband's present boss and her former lover.

"Phil?" she responded in alarm. "But Phil… I thought… that is, we made a deal when I married Matt that you wouldn't bother me… it's all over between us… you know…"