Sylvia felt the boiling white sperm pumping into her, and she worked vaginal muscles she had never known existed before to milk his penis in a desperate effort to consume every bit of every spurt. Her own orgasms were fading now, but her belly muscles still rippled and jumped from the unaccustomed delight and exertion.

She felt his maledom deflating inside her. God! it was like something slowly dying, something that had once been so terribly alive. It continued to twitch, but more slowly… until, finally, it lay quiescent. Then, after about a minute, he pulled it out. She heard the soft plopping sound when it was removed… almost like a cork coming from a flat bottle of champagne.

Sylvia felt him lie down alongside her. She hoped he wouldn’t say anything. She needed time to think. She heard him swallow; his spittle sounded like dry sandpaper sliding down his throat. Sylvia knew that within the last hour she had discovered a wanton streak in herself She had never realized that sex could be so wonderful. And that was Bruce’s fault! Goddamn him… the dirty son of a bitch. She had wasted twelve years of her life on him… twelve long dry years in which he had led her to believe that she was a “frigid neurotic female incapable of feeling anything for anyone.” And all that time, Bruce had been sleeping with everything and everyone that wore a skirt. Twelve years! Well, she would show him. Oh, how she would show him! He’d pay for those twelve years, and it would seem like he was paying one day at a time.

Shelton’s breath still hadn’t returned to normal when he felt the woman turn over to face him. Her eyes were unfathomable; he thought she looked pretty angry about something though.