Melanie and John were running late. It was, after a fashion, Melanie's fault, so she didn't feel it was her place to tell John to slow down as he sent their black Cadillac zigzagging through the suburban streets. As they progressed further into the hills which overlooked the city the houses became more expansive and the plots of land larger and more ornate. Their destination was Susan and Richard Fletcher's summer house party.
Richard Fletcher was a short mousey looking man who overcame these drawbacks by being overly friendly to everyone he met. He worked in movies which is where he had met Susan. He had been assistant producer on a B grade western for which Susan had been auditioning and they hit it off from there. Susan had got the part in no small thanks to Richard and now, even though it had proved to be her only role, told everyone that she was an actress.
Several weeks had passed since the gala and Melanie and John were looking forward to the social interaction.This was the first house party of the season and would set the bar for the rest that followed over summer. If there was one thing Richard knew how to do it was throw a party. John had once quipped that Hollywood being all glitz and glam in place of substance was perfect for Richard and his over keenness.
As they sped along the thankfully quiet streets Melianie gazed out the passenger window at the houses flicking past as she thought dreamily back to earlier in the afternoon.
John had just finished a quick shower and was in the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist getting ready for the house party that afternoon. Melanie snuck up behind him and wrapped one arm around his chest, feeling his defined pecs, while the other slithered under the towel and took a firm grip of his cock. She could feel the smooth warmth of his shaft growing in her hand. She gave a few experimental tugs feeling the skin rolling back and forth, getting tighter over the hardening meat of John's member.
"You know it's not fair to get a man worked up if you're not going to do anything with him," John said playfully.
"Who says I'm not going to do anything with you."
Melanie pulled John's towel off and let it drop to the floor. She then spun him around so he was facing her, planted her two small hands in the middle of his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. While he lay there his full mast pointing to the ceiling Melaine slipped her yellow summer dress from her shoulders and quickly shucked her underwear.
Melanie climbed aboard John's legs and sat for a moment with his seven inch cock resting against her belly so he could see just how far up into her he would go. For a brief moment John thought Melanie looked perfect. He scanned down her body. Starting with her emerald green eyes and deep red hair hanging loosely in slight curls over her pale shoulders dusted with freckles. He stopped to linger on her breasts. They were petite, A cup mounds capped with dark pink nipples which jutted out aggressively. Her cream skin continued down to womanly hips and her fiery red bush.
Melanie then raised herself up on her knees and grabbed John's cock at the base and started to run the engorged head up and down the silken folds of her pussy. John put his hands behind his head and relaxed back to focus on the sensation. Melanie would manoeuvre the tip of the head into her cunt hole and then when she felt him tense up ready to drive home she pulled it back out and continued to tease him, rubbing the head around her clit.
Finally when she felt she had brought him to the edge of his senses, she slowly eased herself down, inch by inch, onto his pulsing rod. When she was fully impaled she rolled her hips, grinding her clit against his pubic bone and moaning. She went slow at first, lifting herself up until just the head of John's cock was in her and then easing back down again. She could feel herself being filled up each time she bottomed out. It felt good to be stretched a little by John's girth and each time she would rock back and forth feeling the stretch just a little bit more.
It wasn't too long before Melanie wanted more. She placed her hands on John's chest for balance while she shuffled up so she was squatting over him. Being able to lift off with her feet on the bed she could get height and speed and she began riding John like a stallion.
Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she bottomed out and her clit went slamming into John sending a jolt of electricity through her body. Her gasps turned into grunts as she got closer and closer to climax. Then suddenly her whole body shook and she collapsed down on top of John, her legs spasming in ecstasy.
John waited until the shuddering subsided and then rolled over so he was now on top of Melanie. He began rocking his hips sliding in and out of Melanie who was wetter than ever after having cum so hard. Feeling his own climax coming John began pistoning vigorously into Melanie's petite body which he held tightly against himself.
When he finally came he buried himself deep inside her sopping cunt and Melanie reached around and ran her nails down his back.
They lay on the bed, painting, John still deep inside his wife, basking in the glow of their lovemaking. John bent his head down and kissed Melanie deep on the mouth before saying, "Kitty's got some claws."
"Just think of it as marking my territory," she replied coquettishly.
Melanie was pulled back to the present moment when John pulled the car up to the curb to park outside Fletcher's house.
There was a fleet of cars, Studebakers, Cadillacs and Packards all lined up in a rainbow of colours and glistening chrome indicating that the party was already in full swing. The cars lined both sides of the street and the streets which branched off the main road indicating that there could easily be one hundred people in attendance.
The house had a modern look to it. Large sections of the wall were glass panels broken up by a rock facade. As Malanie and John walked up to the house they could see some of the guests mingling in the lounge but they could tell from the noise that the real party was taking place out the back. Walking through a gate that had been propped open they saw a pool and deck give way to a grass backyard.
There was a lightness in the atmosphere. Everyone had a drink in their hand and a smile on their face. People were gathered in small groups that would occasionally break up, its members joining other conversations seamlessly. Even the pool was in use with guests floating about, occasionally splashing each other good naturedly and occasionally joining in the conversations that were taking place nearby on the deck.
There was a bar set up against one wall where Melanie was poured a generous chardonnay and John got a scotch and soda. Thus armed they made their way through the throngs of guests until they spotted someone they knew.
The group they joined just happened to contain their hosts Richard and Susan as well as an investment broker and his wife, a pair of air hostesses who had come to the party together and a sociology professor. The group were all silent except for the professor who was pontificating on the actions of Senator Joe McCarthy.
"If we are supposed to be under threat of a communist revolution then surely there would be a greater number of communists in the community. We would know them, they would be our neighbors and friends. With our lives so intertwined within our communities it would be impossible for someone to hide their communist ideologies if they truly held them."
Melanie noticed the way everyone refused to engage the professor in his theories. She was not so relaxed about the hunt for communists that was coming out of Washington as her fellow housewives. Though she knew they didn't have the benefit of her education. If the topic came up at all, which it rarely did, the general consensus amongst the social club wives was that the government must know what they were doing and were just making America safe.
The party was a fairly liberal affair and so no one was coming out to challenge the professor but there had been enough messaging around about informing on suspicious people that no one wanted to be associated with inflammatory talk like this. They all used a pause in the diatribe to break away from the conversation on the pretext of seeing one of their friends or getting a refill on their drink.
This was the flow of the party, small groups would chat for a while then break apart like atoms spinning out to find a new cluster to latch onto. If they were lucky Melanie and John would find some friends or a couple they knew to start a conversation with. Otherwise they would start by introducing themselves and asking the obvious questions first, how did the others know the Fletchers, who else they knew at the party, and what did the men do for a living.
As the day wore on more people came, some left, but the party continued. The pool was in use and as dusk dropped its darkened but rosy glow over the party people were happy to substitute bathers for underwear. It marked a clear delineation between the uptight W.A.S.P people and those happy for a hollywood style party.
As night fell Melanie found herself on her own. John had been ensnared down the far end of the garden by a group of men smoking cigars and talking business. She was aware of the phenomenon of business deals being brokered and made at parties such as this one that she didn't feel at all slighted. John had his work to do and she respected that.
Melanie had seen some of the social club women around but she had no inclination to talk to them knowing the bet that they had all made amongst themselves to steal John from her. There were some more distant acquaintances but they were all keenly engaged in conversation.
Standing by herself at the outskirts of the party she saw something of interest. Someone had brought a camera to the party and had left it on a nearby table. Melanie moved to the table and picked it up expecting to be confronted by its shutterbug owner. However, no one was forthcoming. Obviously the enjoyment of being a party photographer had worn off and the camera's owner had found something more diverting to take up their time.
Melanie had little experience with a camera. She had been limited to taking happy snaps while on vacation. The machine she picked up was a top of the line model. It had an automatic winding mechanism and reusable flash which could be switched on or off. There were thirty six exposures on the role of film with thirty remaining.
