His lips and tongue had sent passion spiraling in demanding waves through her body, causing her nipples to swell into rigid arousal, her vagina to secrete droplets of her building excitement, and her arms had clung to him as if she never wanted to let him go. Then he was drawing her down on the seat, his hands caressing her breasts, her thighs, further intensifying her arousal, and she had known with a dim part of her mind that there could be no denying Hale Bixby – that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

They tore at one another's clothes, and then they were naked, moaning and writhing on the seat of the car, and his penis was in her hand, a huge throbbing shaft, much bigger than David's, filling her with wild delight at its touch, and the prospect of it buried deep up inside her hungrily needing belly. Bixby had kissed her breasts, nuzzling each nipple, and his right middle finger had teased her clitoris then slid lower and into the hot wet cavern of her womanhood. Bette had been half out of her mind with desire as she fondled his thick hard cock, cupped and caressed his sperm-filled testicles, and finally she had drawn him on top of her, holding tightly to his cock, guiding the palpitating shaft to the thin beardedly aching mouth of love between her trembling thighs.

Then he was sliding into her, filling her, the head of his burgeoning penis slamming hard off her cervix, and she went wild with the sensations coursing through her flesh. The only man she had ever had was David; she had been a virgin when they were married at the age of eighteen, and while she enjoyed sex with her husband, it had become a commonplace occurrence – same position, same foreplay, same and well-known penis filling her vagina.