"A husband_s hobby" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jensen Peter)

CHAPTER SIX

When Mark Jenkins returned to the staff cabin after an extra-long afternoon of hiking around the perimeter of Lake Devonshire with his twelve teenage campers, he was ready to flop into bed and sleep for a day. But this evening was the mid-week campfire out by the water, and he knew that as soon as dusk fell his young charges would be anxiously waiting to be escorted down to the lakeside for the twice-weekly event. The camp-wide get-together would last until well past the normal bedtime hour, and Mark anticipated being up until midnight. Holy Christ, Stu really likes to keep them going, he thought as he turned the handle to the bedroom door.

At first glance, he thought his beautiful young wife was just asleep, and he leaned down to shake her gently by the shoulder. "Natalie, wake up, honey… I'm back…"

But the lovely brunette did not stir.

"Hey, baby, come on now… We've got the campfire tonight," Mark said, a little louder this time. He pushed her over so she was lying on her back, and it was then that he saw the nearly empty wine bottle cradled in her arms like a baby. "Oh, Jesus, Nat!" he exploded, carefully removing the bottle from her grip. "Have you been drinking?"

The question was meaningless, he knew. His wife's face was flushed and her breathing was raspy and uneven. Slowly, her dark brown eyes flickered open and she stared unseeingly into the worried face of her husband. Gradually she was able to focus clearly on him, and her expression became a sardonic, loose smile.

"Well, well, well…" she croaked throatily, "if it isn't my darling hushband! How are you, darling hush-husband?"

"I'm fine," he replied quickly, "but I'd like to know what happened to you… If you were bored in the afternoons, Natalie, you could have taught another class!"

The brunette's features wrinkled in concentration as if she was trying to understand the meaning of her husband's words. Bored… afternoon… teach another class, she repeated mentally in her wine-drugged brain. The phrases seemed to echo meaninglessly in her mind as her lips unconsciously formed them over and over again. But finally she smiled broadly in sudden recognition. "Bored?" she asked, with a husky, cracking laugh. "Me? Why should I be bored?" She paused and regarded her husband inquiringly, a tentative, mocking smile twisting the corners of her mouth. "I've got the most lovely waysh to shpend my afternoons… The most gorge-gorgeous young boys!" When Mark merely sat down on the edge of the bed in curious silence, Natalie was prompted to go on. "Well, my God, Mark… You know you sent them over to fuck me… God… I knew all about it, all the time. And I can tell you, my darling hushband, I sure was hot… God, was I hot, just like Stuart said… right, Mark? You agree that I'm hot?"

A long, raucous laugh broke from her limply working red lips as she looked at her husband viciously. "I knew, I knew, I knew," she chanted, as if to torture him by letting him see her bawdy drunkenness. "Stuart told me all about it… the pictures… the photography lesson… I'm not shtupid, you know, Mark. I knew about what you were doing…"

The handsome young husband could only stare incredulously at this woman who was supposed to be his wife. From what he could make out of her disjointed sentences and meager explanations, Natalie had apparently learned of his arrangement with Stuart about getting the pictures. But his former college buddy had promised not to let on that the photos were for him… Mark had wanted the pictures as a private experiment in his own therapy, and he hadn't wanted to frighten or annoy Natalie by asking for them outright. Now he stared at the drunken shell of his beautiful wife, and his eyes searched hers for further explanation. "Natalie," he said softly, "talk slowly, honey, and tell me what's bothering you."

"Bothering me?" she repeated derisively. "Nothing's bothering me! I'm having an absolutely great time here at Weatherly-Brooks Camp for Cocks…" She looked expectantly at her husband for his reaction, but his face was calm, immobile. Almost immediately, the young teacher sobered up, struggling to a weak sitting position against the head board of the bed. "I mean… I mean," she said, making a conscious effort to collect her thoughts, "Stuart was taking pictures of me, Mark… bad pictures… naked. I couldn't t-tell you, because… because I was embarrassed. And yesterday – God forgive me, Mark – yesterday Stuart took those six boys up there to… to rape me, just so he could take those awful pictures…"

"Oh, honey, I know," Mark said softly. "I'm sorry, Nat… I'm sorry if they… hurt you…"

"You know?" the brunette asked rhetorically. "If you knew, then why did you…? Mark, do you know what Stu told me? He said he was taking those pictures for you… why? Mark, why did he say that?" Her face became a mask of confusion as she looked deeply into her husband's face.

"He said it because it's true, Nat," the handsome young man said quietly, his head bowed in humility. "I didn't want you to know, honey… I'm sorry… oh, darling, I'm sorry I did this to you, but it was the only thing I could think of… I swear I didn't want to hurt you, and I made Stuart promise to see that nothing bad happened to you… Sweetheart, tell me you understand…"

"But I don't understand, Mark," the young woman said earnestly, her intoxicated fog seeming to part, letting her clear lucid thoughts come through. She glanced toward the wine bottle where Mark had set it on the floor by the bed, and she remembered the reason she had drunk it. "Why did you want Stuart to take those terrible pictures of me? Why didn't you take them yourself, if you wanted them?"

"Honey, I thought – do you remember when we went into therapy at the sex clinic?" Natalie nodded. "Well," Mark continued, "when they told us to act out our fantasies, I have to confess, I didn't want you to hear mine."

Her husband's confession struck a chord of recognition in Natalie's own heavily-laden mind, and she nodded sympathetically. "Neither did I, Mark… I didn't tell you about my obsession with…"

"No, wait, Nat, let me finish," the biology teacher cut in. "I have to tell you the whole story. I've always had visions of you getting it from two guys at once – or three guys – and I would be one of them. And then I'd picture you with a nice young boy – like a student or something – and you'd be beating him off, or sucking his cock… Christ, honey, it gives me a hard-on just to think about it! So, when we came up here, I knew old Stu was a wild one in college, so I asked him if he could, well, you know, get me some pictures of you with some of the young kids around here… two or three at a time. I thought if I looked at the pictures, and knew that it really was you, well, shit! Shit, our problem would be over in no time."

Natalie's jaw dropped to her chest and her eyes opened wide in disbelief. "You're kidding!" was all she could manage to say at first, but after she looked at Mark's earnestly honest face, she smiled broadly and happily.

"Mark, darling… Oh, Mark!" she cried, tears running down her cheeks. "You won't believe this, but before I married you, I used to dream about the young pupils in my classes… I used to think about sucking their cocks and letting them fuck into me. But I never did it. And when we went to the clinic, I was too ashamed to admit that those were my fantasies, and now… now you're telling me that you have the same ideas! It's too incredible!"

The muscular young husband leaned forward and hugged his wife tightly to his firm hard chest. He pulled the black curls away from her ear and whispered suggestively, "Christ, baby, I can tell it'll be all right from now on… I can just feel it in my cock! And I've arranged a little surprise for you, darling, and you're going to love it all the more, now…"

The two married lovers fell back into the mattress entwined in each other's arms, and they lay there together clutching and stroking at each other's flesh all through the dinner hour, and almost past dusk.