The wife next door (wife,cheating,stories,porno,milf,xxx)
The wife next door
Experts argue over whether or not a man is naturally monogamous. If we accept that he is, we must allow for the undeniable fact that many marriage partners are not satisfied with the favors of one mate.
When we say "man", we must of course include "woman". Such a woman is the protagonist of this novel. Emma Tate is a woman with a wandering eye. Safely mated, she becomes bored with the predictability of her life. She feels there must be something more, though she is not sure what.
Emma embarks upon an existence that offers her the excitement of new lovers and new situations. But, as much as she enjoys herself, fear of discovery haunts her continuously. Emma is afraid to try to fend for herself. The security Harry offers is important to her. So she procrastinates, and she suffers, and she cheats on Harry. Until the day her "mouse" of a husband turns into a lion.
There was only one thing Sam Robbins liked better than fucking in general.
That was fucking his well-stacked wife Helen in particular.
He sat on a kitchen chair watching her go through the ritual of her Saturday morning chores. It was a luxurious feeling -- to have the whole day in front of him, with nothing scheduled, with nothing more pressing to do than to watch the taut wiggle of Helen's ass as she rummaged under the sink for her Mr. Clean.
No doubt about it, he thought lustfully. I have got myself one hell of a good-looking old lady. He began to toy with the idea of impaling her right there. Of pulling down her snug little pink shorts and filling her ever-ready twat with a swollen seven inches.
The effect of his fantasy on his penis was impressive. It began to grow and throb under his bathrobe. Part of a day off for Sam was to sit around in his old robe, all day if he felt like it. It felt sexy to have his prick so close at hand. All he had to do was reach inside the fold of his robe.
While he caressed his cock gently, he watched Helen reach up to scrub the cupboards over the counter. The effort made her full breasts stand out invitingly and emphasized the long graceful sweep of her shapely legs. Helen was a tall woman, almost six feet. She was a good two inches taller than Sam. That was the way he liked his women -- a good, substantial handful. Besides, he always joked with his friends, it made it a lot easier to fuck standing up when the woman was taller than the guy.
Sam began to fantasize pushing Helen against the fridge, pulling down her shorts and screwing her with her sponge still in her hand. His cock was feeling better and better. It had reached its full length and girth. It was getting impatient for some warm, wet action.
"What's going on in that mischievous head of yours?" Helen called back over her shoulder. "I don't trust you when you it so quiet." Her long thick red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It bobbed saucily as she scrubbed.
"Just admiring your obvious assets, my dear. Not to mention your unflagging passion for work." Sam was a real estate agent, and he met a lot of good-looking women in the course of his work, but not one of them compared with his wife -- her red hair, her bouncing big tits, her swelling ass -- or so he thought at the moment. There were, of course, times on the job when he let a deal slip by him in preference for a quick ten minutes' fuck in the empty living room of a house he was showing. There were also the times when a bargain was sealed up inside some warm hungry cunt belonging to a lady with too much money and too little cock from her old man.
Helen knew all about these impulsive trysts, in principle if not always in particulars. Sam knew she got her own jollies on the side. Neither of them objected to the other's infidelity. It only made their marriage more exciting, more vital. No two days were ever the same.
No two fucks were ever the same.
Sam was beginning to imagine what it would be like to wrap Helen's legs around his waist and fuck her with her red hair grazing the floor. Too much work, he decided, as his brain searched for new fantasies. His attention was distracted momentarily by a movement along the hedge that separated the Robbins' yard from their next-door neighbors'.
The moving object was the head of Emma Tate. Sam felt a momentary twinge of desire for the attractive brunette. She was probably taking out the garbage. Maybe he should go out and try to make some conversation.
Hell no, he decided. It's going to take more than a chat in an alley to get me into her pants. But one of these days Helen's eyes followed the direction of her husband's gaze as she turned away from her scrubbing.
"Still spinning daydreams about the fair Emma, eh, stud?" She giggled as she drained the water from the sink and rinsed her sponge under the jet-flow of tap water. "Don't worry, baby. Your day will come."
"Shit, she's tight as a fucking drum. Every time I even look at her sideways, she turns six shades of pink and heads for the hills."
"Did it ever occur to you that she might be intrigued? That she might be trying to work up the nerve to do something about her own secret desires? Her husband's a sweetheart, but I really don't think he's got what it takes to take care of Emma indefinitely."
"So you thing I've got a chance, do you, baby?"
"Sure I do. I know a sensual woman when I see one. Emma's practically vibrating with it all the time. She just hasn't turned on yet to the fact that she can have her cake and eat it too."
Sam was satisfied with his wife's assessment of his chances of seducing his pretty neighbor. He was ready to dismiss that subject and return his concentration to his own sexy wife. His hand began to work more energetically along his swollen cock-shaft.
Only now did Helen notice what he was doing. "So..." she accused him in mock indignation. "The thought of stuffing dear Emma has got your big cock throbbing!"
"Actually, my dear, what got my big cock throbbing was watching that delicious body of yours bending and stretching in every which direction. I was trying to decide how best to fuck you, my dear." Sam's tone was very serious, but his eyes twinkled with unabashed lust.
"My, what a nice thing to think about. Would you care for any suggestions?"
Watching her handsome husband pumping his dick was rapidly bringing Helen's twat to a low wet boil. She stared into his dark brown eyes that were becoming heavy-lidded with arousal. His head of thick black curls tilted back slightly. His upper lip pouted sexily under this thick mustache.
"Oh, Sam, darling, what a delectable sight you are!" She poked a finger inside the crotch of her shorts and began to investigate the moist folds of her hairy snatch. She leaned back against the sink for support and spread her legs lewdly. Her finger prodded the yielding hole of her pussy, then moved on up to her clitoris. "Uuuuuhh," he moaned as her finger grazed the blood-stretched membrane. "Ooohhh, Sam darling, you have such a nice hard cock there. I want to fuck it. Can I, huh?"
Absorbed in the lewd abandon of her sudden arousal, Helen worked her hand greedily inside the crotch of her shorts. She thrust her pubis out toward her watching husband, spreading her legs even wider. She smiled suggestively as she saw the effect her behavior was having on her man.
"How can I say no to a lady?" Sam murmured thickly. His tongue was running nervously along the lower fringe of his mustache. His robe had fallen open on either side of his thighs. The dark kinky hairs around the base of his swollen cock drew attention to his turgid shaft like a garland of roses around a race horse's neck.
"Oh Sam, I've got to have that cock in me!" Never taking her eyes from the pink fleshy shaft of Sam's cock, Helen reached back and unfastened the zipper of her shorts. She slipped them down over her hips and let them fall to the floor. She was not wearing panties. She never wore panties.
The bright red triangle of her cunt was fully visible to her staring husband. Her wedding ring shone amidst the forest of her kinky pubic hair as her fingertips toyed obscenely with her hungry pussy. "I'm going to fuck you now, Sam."
She moved close to Sam where he sat on the kitchen chair. She straddled his legs with her own and started to sit down. At the first touch of his rounded cock-head on her cunt, she paused. "Want it, baby?" she teased him. "Do you want my wet clinging cunt on your lovely big cock?" She was quivering with the excitement of feeling his cock-tip grazing her sensitized pussy.
She wanted it bad. Her passion-slackened face said that clearly.
Eager as he was to have his cock buried in his wife's cunt, Sam couldn't resist teasing her for a minute. "Jeez, baby... I don't know. Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know you're acting like a shameless slut, don't you?"
"Huuuuuuhhhh, Gawd!" It was Helen who gave in first. She couldn't hold out any longer. The hard prodding of his cock-head parting her pussylips was just too much. She wanted all of him! And right now!
She sat down heavily, burying his throbbing prick deep in the clutching confines of her cunt. "Ooooohhhh... Jee-zuz, it feels good-d-d, baby!" Her eyes were clenched tight in the abandoned ecstasy of sensation. "Mmmmm... oohhh, I want it! I want it!"
Like a madwoman, she began to raise and lower her ass over the upthrusting scepter of his cock. Deep, deep into her hot pussy-hole went his penis. Then she raised herself back up until only the very tip was still enclosed in the warm velvety caress of pussy. Then down again. Up, down... up, down... her whole being was absorbed in the tantalizing pleasure-darts shooting this way and that through her trembling, near-naked body.
"Gawd, baby, that's the way! Move that sweet little ass of yours! Shit, Christ, it feels good!" Sam was in seventh heaven. Helen was outdoing every fantasy he had managed to conjure up this morning. His cock was pulsing like it was loaded with a million little beads of light, each one designed to give him a jolting charge of pleasure. Lifting him higher, higher.
He placed a hand on each hip and guided her frantic movements up and down over his erect instrument. He could feel his cock-tip gazing her cervix deep inside. He could feel her cunt-walls clutching him spasmodically, with a fierce reluctance to let go once they had him in their grip.
Helen banged her cunt down harder and harder against Sam's pubic bone. Hot charges of feeling coursed throughout her being on every down-blow.
"Gawd-d-d, oh Gawd, I'm cumming-g-g!" she moaned at last. She rammed her cunt down hard against him, his cock buried far inside her, and she let it ride through her. Her body shook with the intensity of her release.
Sam felt a warm glow of satisfaction. A sexy woman, his wife. Uninhibited. It was nothing for her to climb on top of him and seek her pleasure however she could get it. His cock grew even bigger inside her as he thought about how much he wanted to fill her full of steaming, roiling cum.
Before the powerfully built man knew what was happening, his wife had risen from his lap and was rushing to the oven.
"Oh my Gawd! The cake!" She pulled open the oven door and pulled out a well-risen, black-topped panful of something apparently intended as a cake. "Oh, rats! Damn it! How could I have been so dumb?"
"How soon these shallow cunts forget! Looks like some reminding is in order." Sam walked up behind his wife and bent her forward over the counter. He took the swollen shaft of his cock and shoved it in between her ass-cheeks. She groaned low and long as it found and penetrated the wet hole of her pussy.
"Uuuuuuhhh, Sam... fuck me! Fuck me, darling!" Cake forgotten, Helen began to wriggle her ass back against her husband's loins. Endless moans escaped her lips, that trembled with her passion. Her red ponytail flailed back and forth as she climbed to abandoned peaks of erotic frenzy. She braced herself against the counter and shoved her ass back against Sam's every thrust.
"That's the way, baby! Move it!" Sam's cock swelled to even greater hardness at the sight of his wife's taut round ass squirming back against him.
She looked good, wearing nothing but her skimpy blouse, her body bent over for screwing in the middle of her neat and clean kitchen. With her burnt cake sitting atop the stove next to her. "Shit, woman... you turn me on!"
His thrusts became longer, deeper, more penetrating as his excitement grew. He threw back his head and closed his eyes. His whole universe centered for the moment on the elastic grip of his wife's cunt on his cock. On the warm wet cavern of her tender pussy. He could feel his balls swelling with their load. His passion was becoming urgent. He slammed his cock again and again and again, deep into her welcoming cunt.
"Oh God, yesssss...! Fuck me like that, Sam baby! It's good! It's so damned good!" Sensing that rising pitch of her husband's responses, Helen ground her hips more lasciviously back to meet his urgent thrusts. The kitchen echoed with the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh, mixed with the slooshing slide of slick cock into wet pussy.
"Uuuuhhh... uuuhhhhhh, yesssss... make me cuuummmm, baby!"
"I'm working on it, Helen!" He held her hips in a vise-like grip and penetrated her flowing cunt again and again with his stiff rod. The sensations were becoming unbearable. He wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. He reached under and began to tickle the hard nubbin of her clitoris. That was it for Helen.
She was gone!
"Aaaaiiiieeee! I'm cuming-g-g!" The jolts of pleasure coining from her clitoris coupled with the surging excitement in her pussy turned Helen into a feeble mass of gyrating ecstasy. She slammed her ass convulsively back against Sam's groin, urging him on to the climax.
Sam was her willing victim. He wanted to go where she was.
"Look out, baby! Here I cummm!" With a mighty lurch, he sent the hot wet juices of his fiery load deep into her thirsty womb. She clutched greedily at his deflating cock, milking it of every last drop of its sweet jism. Sam leaned heavily against Helen's back while she clung to the counter.
Slowly, gradually, they uncoupled, stood up. Helen threw her arms around her husband and gave him a long, languorous kiss. Her tongue investigated the moist confines of his mouth, dueled lewdly with his tongue, then drew back. "Thanks, baby, I needed that," she drawled. "Especially now that I have to make that damned cake all over again."
"Damn the cake, baby! I want you and me to go to bed with a shaker of martinis. I ain't done yet!"
Helen giggled. "You're a sex fiend arid I love you. In fact, as far as I can remember, that's why I married you!" She rumpled his dark curls playfully. "Okay baby, you mix the martinis and I'll mix the cake. We'll be wanting something sweet to eat when we come up for air."
"Right on, beautiful." Sam rubbed his hands together gleefully as he headed for the bar in the living room. Saturdays were such good days. It was easy to see this one was going to be no exception.
Emma Tate hated Monday mornings.
The only thing that made them bearable was a good fuck to start the day. Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy to pin her husband Harry down. Once he was out of bed, his mind started to click into gear for his day's work at the lab. It was hard enough to get him to state a preference for his eggs, let alone to get him interested in the differences between boys and girls.
Emma stood by the kitchen table, in her filmiest of filmy negligees. She could hear Harry rummaging around in his study. "Harry, darling your eggs are ready!" She looked anxiously at the clock. Harry still had an hour before he had to be at the lab. And it was only a twenty-minute drive. She figured there was still enough time for his breakfast and a quickie.
Her optimism flagged as Harry wandered into the kitchen with a wad of papers in his hands, rummaging through them like a proverbial absent-minded professor. "If only I could discover the link between them... It should be very simple."
"Good morning, Harry dear." Harry had been in the bathroom when Emma awoke. This was the first time she had seen him this morning. He found his seat at the kitchen table by careful investigation by feet and ass, and slowly sat down. He held up his cheek absently for Emma's good-morning kiss.
"Don't get your papers in the egg yolks, Harry." She watched dismally as he began to eat. One hand on his fork, one on his papers. Both eyes totally captivated by scientific formulas. Emma could have been wearing a paper bag and a horse collar. The effect on her husband would have been equally as dramatic.
"Could I have some coffee, dear?" At last, he had spoken to her. Emma sensed the absurdity of being elated by this minor victory. She looked critically at her husband as he ate and drank and read. He was a good-looking man. His smooth regular features and his neat, closely trimmed beard and mustache made him look very mature and very wise. Emma felt a renewed surge of desire for him as she recalled how his skin smelled very close up, how his beard grazed softly against her cheek. He had such a wonderfully soft beard!
She checked herself as her pussy began to flare hotly. May as well forget it this time around, she told herself. There'll be no rousing Einstein this morning.
Emma and Harry had been married for three years. They had met when she was an undergraduate and he on the last legs of his climb to a Ph.D.. She had been very impressed. She had thought Harry knew everything. And about physics, he probably did know close to everything. His teachers conceded he was a genius.
Where Emma had made her mistake, she realized now, was in thinking Harry knew everything about everything. He did not. One thing he knew practically nothing about was women.
They fucked when he felt like fucking. They did not communicate about sex. He never took the trouble to find out what her real needs and desires were. He assumed he had a perfectly satisfied wife. He liked to assume that. That freed him to think about physics eighteen hours out of the day. The other six hours, he slept.
Emma knew she was bored. She felt guilty about being bored. Harry was a good kind man. He deserved all the love she could give him. And she did love him. But she wanted more out of life than a permanent post as the guardian and watchdog of a professional thinking machine.
She was a woman, with real live hopes and dreams and desires. And needs. Needs that were not being fulfilled.
Once again her thoughts strayed back to her hot aching cunt. If only Harry could get his nose out of his papers long enough to fuck her for just a few minutes.
It wasn't that they didn't fuck often. They did. But it was beginning to seem dull and repetitive to Emma. She didn't know it it was natural to feel the way she did, but she wanted sex to be more adventurous than a hurried, furious coupling before sleep each night. At times she felt more like a fixture in somebody's wet dream than a wife.
"More coffee, Harry?" she asked dully, holding the coffee pot poised over her mate's cup.
"What... huh...? Oh, no thanks, honey. I've got to be going. I've got an important meeting this morning. I want to be there early. I've got some things I want to talk over with Jackson before we start."
"Good... well, you'd better be going, Harry. You don't have much time." Emma wanted him gone now. She needed some time alone, to think things out, maybe to get rid of this awful nagging ache down in her pussy.
"Okay... I'll see you later, honey." He was still leafing through his papers as he left the house, briefcase and raincoat tucked precariously under one arm.
When Emma was alone, she automatically headed back to the bedroom. She felt she had some unfinished business in there. She pulled open the doors of her closet and looked at herself in the mirror hanging on one side.
There she was. A full-blown woman, just ever so slightly on the plump side. Her tits were full and firm. Her waist tucked in provocatively between breasts and hips. Her legs were long and strong. Her light brown hair fell softly around her pouting, sensuous-looking face. Tall and strong, she looked like a statuesque Scandinavian princess.
"I am sexy," she told her mirror emphatically. "How could he possibly be alone with me and not notice me once all morning?" Her nipples and dark cunt-hair were like lures beneath the filmy material of her negligee. She parted the folds and admired her naked chest and belly. She watched, fascinated, as her hand trailed down over her firm stomach and burrowed into her thick thatch of cunt-hair. The fingers made almost immediate contact with the hidden nub of her clitoris. The effect was electric. The little gland stood up in eager erection.
"Mmmmmm!" She watched her blue eyes become hazy, watched her lower lip fell open slackly. Her face, naturally sensuous, became a molten landscape of naked desire. She was hot!
Her pussy palpitating with need, the shy Emma began to sort through ideas for giving her body the satisfaction it craved. It would not be enough for her to just masturbate. She wanted to let her frustrated sexuality come out. She wanted to be wanton.
She went into the bathroom and pulled out her makeup pouch. She almost never wore makeup. Amongst the wives at the lab, it was fashionable to sport the natural look. To let the wrinkles and lines sprout where they may. Emma kept the makeup for very special occasions -- for the times when she was alone and she wanted to feel very sexy.
With deft strokes, she began to apply eyeliner and mascara, eye shadow and rouge. A bright red lipstick added a provocative finishing touch. Now she looked like a whore-garishly beautiful instead of her usual quiet attractiveness. She liked the feel of her negligee flowing over her back and buttocks while her front remained bare. She felt very sexy, very daring.
She went to the living room and poured herself a scotch-on-the-rocks from the closet bar. She downed it quickly and poured a second. The tingling sensation from the alcohol went straight to her pussy. It pulsed with excitement. Glass in hand, she went back to the bedroom and again inspected herself in the full-length minor. What she saw made her pussy flare expectantly.
While she sipped her scotch, she began to investigate the thick patch at her pussy once again. Again her fingers tickled her clitoris. Only this time, she let them go farther. She let them work round and round the erect peak of her clitoris, then press at the yielding hole of her cunt.
"Oooohh, my pussy feels good," she groaned, looking straight into her own eyes in the mirror. She took a long swallow of her drink, then set it on the bedside table. She began to fondle her breasts with one hand while the other caressed her wet cunt.
Emma was able to sit on the bed and still enjoy the picture of herself playing with her most private pads. She spread her legs wide, so she could get a full view of her glistening, hair-fringed pussy. Her fingers moved hypnotically along her cunt-channel. Lust-darts were soaring from the tender spots where her fingers moved. She was literally shaking with excitement. This was the kind of forbidden turn-on she was never able to enjoy with Harry.
This was the kind of thrill that made her pussy wettest.
"Uuuhhh, Jee-zuz," she grunted. Two fingers were embedded inside her cunt now, and they began to wriggle back and forth. Her debauched excitement was intensified by the sight of her fingers, gleaming with her juices, emerging from her tight pussy. Her inner muscles closed her fingers convulsively on every in stroke. Her body was so open, so aroused. Her cunt was so hungry for the magic of orgasm. "Hhnnnhh, I love acting like a whore! I love being depraved! Christ, my fingers feel so wonderful up inside my cunt!"
Her face heavy with sensual abandon, she watched her hands caress her breasts and her pussy. She imagined she was performing her abandoned act for the pleasure of an onlooker -- a handsome man who would fuck her silly when she had male herself cum. But that was the first requirement of the arrangement. First, she had to make herself cum.
"Uuuuhh, I want to cum... I want to cum so bad!" Her fingers began to fly in and out of her cunt-hole while her thumb worried the swollen nubbin of her clitoris. The quaking sensations assaulting her lewdly clad body were becoming more and more urgent. She watched her heavily made-up face in the mirror. Watched her tongue flicker lewdly over her red lips. Watched her dark, wide eyes with their blue irises grow wider and wider with the surprise of her feeling.
What would Harry think if he could see me now? she thought. In a way, Emma wished he could see her now. Perhaps it would snap him out of himself and tune him into her. Perhaps he would see she was a living, breathing sex addict with a very strong libido. Maybe he would get turned on, really turned on for the first time in their life together.
But Emma was too far gone to think for long about the source of her current frustration. She began to fantasize about Sam Robbins next door. She had seen the way Sam looked at her. She knew he thought she was a desirable woman. Besides, she knew he had a thing for tall, good-looking women, whoever they might be. She was vaguely aware that Sam and Helen had an agreement between them. That they both made love to other people.
That knowledge made Sam available in her mind. She felt free to fantasize about him. She imagined that Sam was watching her while she rammed her fingers in and out of her craving cunt, while she massaged her tits with her fingertips. She thrust her full lush tits out proudly and stared at the long, swollen nipples.
"Well, what do you think, darling?" she asked her unseen lover. "Do I look sexy enough? Does it turn you on to watch me play with myself... oh, God, it feels good! My belly's on fire! Oh Jee-zuz... Jeezuz!"
Suddenly the warm floods of orgasm were sweeping over her. Her body leapt into the pit of fiery release and bathed itself in the splendid flush of orgasm. She fell back onto the bed and lay groaning, clutching her cunt-mound while it throbbed out the last waves of her orgasm. Then she sat up and looked at herself once again. Her lush body covered in a light film of sweat. Her eyes dreamy and her lips laughing. She felt wonderful! The hot glow of the whiskey still tingled in her belly. She was very pleased with herself, with what she had done for herself.
The ring of the front doorbell invaded the sanctity of her fantasy-world like a gong. Emma leapt to her feet and searched feverishly in her closet for something to wear. She didn't even consider not answering the door. Somehow she needed to appear normal, to assure whoever was there that she had not been up to anything strange.
The intrusion of the outside world had suddenly made Emma feel very unsure of herself.
She was already opening the front door when she remembered her face was covered with makeup. It took a moment before she realized that was not unusual. Millions of women wore make-up. The stranger at the door should see nothing odd in that.
She stared as though frozen at the big man standing on her landing. He was very handsome -- just Emma's type. He was over six feet tall and probably well over two hundred pounds. All of it muscle. He wore his blond hair fashionably long, but scrupulously trimmed. His broad handle-bar mustache flattered his large, Germanic face.
He could have been the answer to Emma's fondest fantasy-prayers. It took her a minute, in her confused condition, to realize he was a salesman. He was holding a bottle of lotion in one hand and a sample case in the other. His smile was very open and friendly.
Emma felt weak. She was not in the mood to deal with a salesman. But she was captivated by the compelling magnetism of the man's personality. Though he had spoken not a word, he had gained the woman's full attention.
"Hel... hello." Her voice sounded weak, even to herself.
"Good morning. I hope I'm not interrupting anything." His long, appraising look made Emma doubt herself for a moment. Did something show? Why was he smiling at her like that? She looked down nervously to make sure the sun-dress she had slipped on was not gaping open somewhere it shouldn't be. Everything looked all right in that department.
"Good morning. No... I was just cleaning house, that's all."
Emma looked skeptical. She could think of nothing wonderful about being a household drudge.
He laughed at the confusion in her face. "What I mean is, cleaning house is just what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm your Harrow's Household Helpers representative in this area, and I have this free gift for you if you will give me a few moments of your time."
He shoved the bottle of lotion into her hand. Before Emma knew what had happened, they were both sitting on the living-room sofa. She knew she had invited him in, but she wasn't really sure how or why she had done it. The big man began to assemble various bottles and jars on the coffee table, while she stared at him dumbfounded.
Wow, he sure has a lot of self-confidence, she thought admiringly. She liked being with a man who was one hundred percent male, and knew it. His bright blue eyes penetrated hers as he looked up from his display.
"First I'd like to tell you about our miracle floor care products." He spent close to half an hour describing the various items manufactured by his company. Before she knew it, Emma had given him a twenty-five dollar order.
"Can always use good cleaning equipment," she rationalized. Deep down, she knew she wanted to see the man again. "What did you say your name was again?" she asked out of the blue.
"Bob Cranach." He smiled. She noticed his teeth were very white and very even. She smiled back. "I should be back with your order in four or five days. When is the best time of day to find you in?"
"Between nine and noon," she answered automatically.
He rose to leave. "Well, I'll see you around Friday then."
"Good. I'll look forward... to trying your products."
"Good-bye, Mrs. Tate."
"Oh... call me Emma. After all, this is a democracy... and we are both about the same age." She felt awkward as she showed him to the door and watched him head down the sidewalk toward his car. She also felt excited. She was looking forward to Friday. It wasn't often she was alone with such an attractive man.
Of course their relationship was perfectly innocent... but still, it was fun.
Monday's solitary games did little to relieve Tuesday's horniness. Emma had scheduled the day for housecleaning, and she was up moving furniture and doing laundry even before Harry left for work.
She was surprised when her husband gave her a particularly attentive good-bye kiss.
"I was hoping you'd come back to bed this morning, Emma. I was in the mood for you."
Emma glared at his back as he went oat to the car. "Why the hell didn't you call me?" she fumed between clenched teeth. "Men! How am I ever supposed to know what's going on in your head, Harry Tate?" She relieved her frustration by taking it out on the walls and cupboards and furniture. She discovered a clogged drain in the bathroom and was dismayed to find she was out of Drano.
Rather than taking time out to go to the store, she decided to go next door to Helen Robbins' and borrow some. She went through the back lane and entered the Robbins' yard from the rear. She saw no sign of life, but thought she could hear voices coming from inside. Helen was apparently not alone.
As Emma moved closer to the house, she began to suspect that a visitor might not be welcome. The sounds coming from inside were those of passion. Helen was entertaining a man. His moans mingled with hers in a lustful symphony that assaulted Emma's senses like an aphrodisiac.
She felt compelled to draw closer, though propriety told her she should turn heel and run. Her breath suspended in her throat, she crept close to the glass doors that led to the living room and peeked through the drapes. What she saw turned her body to jelly and her mind to mush.
"Oh, Ken! That feels so wonderful! Eat my pussy, darling!"
Helen was lying on the living room rug, stark naked, with a naked man kneeling between her thighs. His head was bent low over her cunt, his nose buried against her clitoris. Whatever he was doing to Helen was obviously very pleasurable.
And from the man's moans, it was evident he too was thoroughly aroused by what he was doing.
Emma felt an involuntary shudder run from her cunt up along her spine. It was a shudder of arousal. She was intensely excited by what she was witnessing. It was seldom that Harry ever ate her cunt, but when it happened, she invariably had a resounding climax, and lay panting, pleading for more. She knew why Helen's face looked so distorted, so engrossed with lust. Emma remembered well how a slippery tongue felt on her own clitoris, probing up into her own pussy-hole.
It was all the watching brunette could do to suppress a moan as the man's hands gripped Helen's buttocks firmly and pulled her in closer to his face.
It didn't surprise Emma that her neighbor was making love to a man other than her husband. Helen had hinted to Emma about the sophisticated nature of her relationship with Sam. Emma had not asked for details at the time. She had felt inexplicably frightened by such an unorthodox approach to marriage. She felt in her heart of hearts that, if Harry were the lover she wanted him to be, she would never even look at another man twice.
But, as things were, Helen's lot was beginning to look like a very attractive one. Helen obviously wasn't going around feeling frustrated and horny. Emma was beginning to wonder if she couldn't learn a thing or two from her pretty redheaded neighbor.
"Ken, darling... turn around, please... I want to kiss you too!"
Without raising his face from Helen's pussy, the man called Ken maneuvered himself around on the rug until he was lying stretched out next to her in a sixty-nine position.
Emma gazed dumbfounded at the long, half-erect cock that arched from his loins. It looked so big! The brunette could feel a hungry yearning inside her panties. She watched Helen's admiring gaze as the redhead began to work her hand gently up and down along the turgid shaft. She licked her lips in vicarious pleasure as Helen closed her lips over the swollen, bulb-shaped tip.
"Hhnnnhhh!" His muffled moan rose from the dark red patch of her pussy-hair. Emma could see his fingertips sinking into Helen's flesh as he responded to the rousing caresses of the woman's mouth and tongue.
Helen's eyes seemed to shine with lust as she held the cock away from her for a moment and surveyed its full erect length. Her look said that she was too excited to hold off any longer and she took the whole shaft inside her mouth. At the same lime her cunt ground up into the man's face. She was grunting in animal-like pleasure as her head began to bob back and forth along his prick. Her fingers worked light caresses over his balls and asshole as her mouth worked tirelessly on his cock.
"Ohhh, Kennnnn... soooo good-d-d-d!" All the other sounds that escaped her mouth were incoherent, but the message was clear. Helen was enjoying herself.
As she stooped outside the glass doors and peeked through the crack in the drapes, Emma lost all sense of time and place. She was thoroughly absorbed in the lusty scenario taking place right before her eyes. Her frustrated body was sympathizing with the writhing pleasure-agony of the woman on the rug inside the room.
She could almost feel the smooth fleshiness of that cock in her mouth. Could almost sense the slippery excitement of his tongue working along the sensitized flanges of her pussy.
Eventually, watching the two lovers writhing in erotic abandon became too much for Emma. She had to have some relief. She began to run a hand over the crotch of her jeans. That helped a little, by turning the numb ache in her clitoris into a pleasurable purr of seething contentment. That was a touch of what she wanted, but it soon became apparent that her cunt was going to need more than that.
She slipped down the fly of her jeans and eased her hand inside, down past the baffler of her bikini panties. As soon as her cool fingers hit the hot bud of her clitoris, her whole body trembled with a volcanic surge of excitement.
"Hhhnnnhh," she moaned in a whisper. Yet even that betrayal of her presence frightened her. Would she be discovered?
Emma realized at once that her fears were in vain. The couple in the next room were far too absorbed in each other and the feelings in their own bodies to notice her feeble cry of pleasure. Emboldened by their absorption in each other, she began to rub her fingers mare energetically over her cunt. Her body trembled with the tantalizing sensations. And with the lewd thought of her own depravity. She was being a voyeur. She was watching others make love, and jetting paltry satisfaction from her hand. She felt a depraved titillation in her own perversity.
"Jee-zuz, Helen baby... Your pussy tastes so good! I've gotta get my cock inside there! Are you ready?"
"Mmm, yesss! Fuck me, Kenny! I want your nice big cock up inside me! My pussy's hungry for you, baby!"
The redhead got up onto her hands and knees and, before the man could act, she pushed him flat onto his back. She straddled his loins and guided his erect prick toward the hairy silt of her pussy. As soon as their genitals made contact, she sat right down on him. His cock disappeared from Emma's view deep into the welcoming confines of Helen's cunt.
"Uuuuhh, God-d-d!" Helen looked like a proud princess mounted astride her steed. Her red hair flew wildly about her head, as she threw it back in wanton ecstasy. Not content to sit and pose, she began to gallop atop the prone man. Her hips moved frantically up and down over his erect cock. Now his cock was lost somewhere deep in her cunt. Now it shone bare and glistening beneath her voracious pussy-slit.
Emma ran her tongue nervously over her lips as she watched the couple lose themselves in their erotic play. She toyed feverishly with her clitoris through the opening in her pants. She began to run her hands over her chest, to excite her nipples into proud hardness. The tantalizing darts of pleasure ran back and forth between tits and cunt like some kind of urgent Morse Code of sexuality. It was all Emma could do to remain on her feet. She was beside herself with passion. More than anything she wanted to give her hand freer access to her pussy. It was hard to caress it properly with her jeans and panties in the way.
Looking nervously around her, she slipped her jeans down over the ripe swell of her buttocks. Her panties came next. Now her hand could move as it wanted. She shoved two fingers deep into her pussy and began to fingerfuck herself in time to Helen's movements over Ken's cock.
"Mmmmm!" For moments at a time, her arousal was so intense she closed her eyes. She didn't need to actually see Ken and Helen any longer to bask in the contagion of their sensual abandon. She was moving with them. Feeling with them.
The young housewife had never realized anything as perverted as being a Peeping Tom could be so exciting.
Her fingers were wet with her juices. Her clitoris was rock-hard with the rush of blood to her sex organs. Her body was in tense suspended animation. She was building... building...
"God, Helen, your cunt is so good, baby. It's squeezing my prick like a juicer... Man, I don't know how much more of this I can take!"
"You'll take as much as I decide to give you, big boy!" Helen was obviously enjoying her position of power riding astride the man. She was using his cock at her own speed, in her own way. She loved to tease herself, to hold herself aloft with just the tip of his cock in her pussy, until she couldn't stand it another minute. Until she just had to be filled to bursting once again with a big stiff one. "Uuuhh, Kenny... what a sweet cock! Jeez!" Up and down, up and down rode her tight round little ass-cheeks. Despite her height, Helen had a small build, and it was all packed into the right places. She tad an intense energy that was at this moment driving the young man's body and senses to distraction.
"Hhnnn... that's the way! Keep it up, baby! Oohhhhh! Aaiieee!" Ken fought mightily against the urge to let himself go completely. He was determined to wait for the woman's climax. It wasn't easy, not with the way her talented cunt-muscles were stroking and massaging his iron-hard cock.
"Oh, Kenny... I love to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you!" Helen was lost in her own little world. The even, forceful tempo of her words indicated she was pushing herself up there. She was ready to go. "Aaahhhhh... oooohhhhhhhh I'm cummmmm-ing-g-g!"
With this signal, Ken let go in a hot explosive rush. They writhed together in moaning, shuddering orgasm.
Emma didn't allow herself the luxury of crying aloud, but she, too, experienced orgasm as the couple let go. Her clitoris seemed to seize up, then her whole body relaxed. She felt totally devoid of strength, of thought.
Only the sounds from the other room could spur her into action.
"Kenny honey... I feel wonderful. Let's go like out in the sun for a while, okay? I'll make us some spiked lemonade."
Emma pulled up her jeans and ran home as fast as her legs could carry her. Only when she was in her own house did she take the trouble to pull up the zipper of her fly. She lay down on the couch and tried to assimilate the experiences of the last hour.
She hadn't got the Drano, but she had got something much more important from Helen. Unbeknownst to Helen.
She had got the idea for a kind of sexuality she would never before have dared claim as her own. But now the uppermost thought in her mind was: "If Helen can do it, why can't I?"
It had been a hard day at the lab. Harry was glad to be home.
He opened the front door, expecting to head into his study, as usual, and read until dinner. He was not prepared for the surprise that awaited him.
Emma was waiting just inside the door. She wore a pair of soft, low-cut silk pajamas that flattered her lush figure. She held a martini in each hand and pushed one at Harry before he even had a chance to put down his briefcase and hang up his raincoat.
"What's the occasion?" he asked nervously as he hung his coat on a peg by the door. He searched his mind for reasons for Emma's behavior. Her birthday had just passed. Their anniversary was not until November.
"No occasion, darling. I just wanted you and me to spend some nice mellow, sexy tune together, that's all." Emma's eyes glimmered with excitement. Ever since yesterday morning, when she had watched Helen and her boyfriend Ken, she had been fighting a mental battle with herself.
She was reluctant to cheat on her husband. Even though Helen's situation had looked very attractive, she wanted to be sure she had given Harry every last chance. She thought perhaps she could teach him to be sexy, if she tried hard enough.
She had turned the radio on to the romantic music station. She had spent all afternoon doing her hair and rubbing herself with sweet-smelling lotions, painting her nails. Her efforts had excited her, had worked her up for her husband's arrival home.
Harry smiled at his eager wife. "That's a wonderful idea, honey. Why don't we wait until after dinner, though? It's been a hard day, and I could really use some quiet time in the den. I've got some things to think out."
Emma was firm. "You've got your whole life to think about things. Tonight is for your wife."
He put an arm gently around her shoulder. "We've got a whole lifetime together, honey. Surely we can wait until after dinner."
"Maybe you can wait until after dinner, Harry. I can't. I want you to start paying some attention to me, Harry." Her voice was pleading. "I'm not like your old leather coat. I'm not guaranteed for the life of the owner."
Harry sensed the unvoiced threat in his wife's argument, though he avoided facing it squarely. He did take his wife by the arm and lead her into the living room. She softened at once.
"Oh Harry, darling... I get so lonely for you sometimes." She snuggled against his chest and fondled his soft silky beard. Her full breasts grazed against him suggestively.
Harry was beginning to become aroused by his wife's appearance and manner. But he was more worried about what had caused this sudden change in her. For one thing, Emma never wore makeup, but she was sure wearing it tonight. "Listen, honey, I'm really sorry you're feeling down. Why don't you sign up for one of those night courses they give at the college? It should help occupy your time."
"I don't want things that will just occupy my time, Harry. I want to enjoy what I do. I want to feel alive. And Harry," she wriggled her tits right under his chin and kissed him on the forehead, "I'm not feeling down. I'm feeling very up. And you could make me feel even higher."
Harry was flabbergasted. His wife was acting like a twenty-five-dollar whore. What could have gotten into her? Still, her breasts did look good under that chest-hugging silk.
"You like my titties, Harry?"
"Of course I like your tits, Emma. I married you, didn't I?"
Emma was beginning to feel frustrated, angry. She fought the feelings. She was going to make Harry let go of his inhibitions if it was the last thing she ever did. She reached over and undid her husband's tie. She began to unbutton his shirt. He stiffened.
"What's the matter, Harry?"
"I just don't feel sexy right now, Emma. Why don't we wait until bedtime?" He smiled at her promisingly.
"We always wait until bedtime, Harry. I'm going to get myself another martini. Why don't you finish yours?" Emma had called a momentary halt in her campaign. She was discouraged by Harry's attitude, his rigidity. But she was still determined to get fucked tonight -- before bedtime.
For the next hour, Emma kept the martinis flowing. Harry never as a rule took more than one drink. This evening, she made sure he had three. She herself had four. She was feeling blissfully happy and optimistic once again by the time dinner hour rolled around.
She served a casserole and insisted that Harry open a bottle of wine to go with it. "Come on, Harry. Tonight's special."
"But Emma, I have to go to work in the morning."
"So... you'll have all night to sleep it off. And the world won't come to an end if you're an hour or two late for work."
"Sometimes I think you'll never understand me, Emma. I don't like to be late for work."
The young husband was so confused by his wife's behavior that he in fact welcomed the effects of the alcohol. It made everything seem all right. He was beginning to feel a little silly himself.
When they had finished their dinner, they took their wine glasses into the living room. Harry settled himself on the sofa and waited for his wife to sit beside him. Instead, she dropped to her knees on the rug in front of him. She pulled his cock deftly from his fly. Before he had even registered what was happening, she was sucking the head of his prick. The sensations were too good to be denied.
"Jeez, Emma... I don't know what's got into you. You're acting so... sexy! Uuuuhh... shit, that feels good!" He braced himself against the couch cushions on either side of him. He looked very much as though he expected the excitement in his stiffening prick to carry him off.
"I am sexy, Harry!" she told him as her tongue trailed round and round his swollen cock-head. "I like to be sexy. I like to suck your cock! Mmmm, tastes wonderful!" In the back of Emma's mind was the lustful scene she had witnessed yesterday. Helen sucking Ken's cock while he ate her pussy. She would like to do that with Harry, but she realized that might be more than he could handle right now. She would be content to make love to his cock with her mouth.
Emma had determined to show her husband what she was really like sexually. That was the fair way. To give him a chance to respond -- and if he didn't, there was always Helen's way. Naked on the rug with a man not her husband. All inhibitions destroyed by the alcohol, Emma felt her cunt getting wet at the obscene thoughts she was entertaining. She wondered if her wetness would show through her lounging pajamas. She was not wearing any panties, especially for this occasion.
She opened her mouth wide and took the whole swollen length of Harry's cock up inside. She bobbed her head up and down, relishing the smooth fleshy presence in her mouth. She could feel her hair brushing sensually against her shoulders. She could feel her pussy getting steadily wetter, more open. This was the most abandoned thing she had ever done with her husband. Sure, she had sucked his cock before, but not with this much abandon, this enthusiasm.
"Uuuuuhhh... ooooohhh..." Harry had given up all rational thought. He had let his head fall back against the couch. His eyes were closed. His usually tension-ridden body was floating in the blind euphoria of complete, receptive lust. Whatever Emma's thing was this evening, he was enjoying it. His cock was feeling very, very good. "You're a good lover, Emma," he told his kneeling wife. "You're the sexiest woman I've ever known." It occurred dimly to his drink-addled brain that he had never entirely appreciated Emma's sexiness before. Tonight he was seeing a new Emma.
The brunette's tongue and lips worked abandonedly over the rigid shaft of Harry's cock. She could feel his cock-head become incredibly swollen and hard between her lips, until she thought he was going to blow. Then it would shrink just a little. Then it would start to acquire that special hardness all over again. She loved the feel of his firm prick-flesh between her lips. The intensity of his excitement stimulated hers.
"Oooohhh, Harry... I love sucking your cock, darling. It feels so good in my mouth. Mmmmmm... oooohhhh..." She moaned as she sucked. She sucked tirelessly.
The young couple fell into a special erotic place of timelessness. The sounds of Emma's sucking and moaning mingled lewdly with Harry's grunts of pleasure. He was letting himself think about all kinds of sexy things he had never thought about before. It felt good to be slightly drunk, to be letting his wife suck his cock right in the living room. Giving her his cock as dessert to their evening meal.
He looked down at her brown hair moving back and forth over his aching prick. He maneuvered for a glimpse of her full decolletage in her low-cut outfit. Her breasts were so round and lush, milk-white and soft. He felt a tingle in his balls as he gazed upon, them. He experienced a new appreciation for lipstick as he watched her bright red lips locked around his cock, moving up and down, up and down.
"Jeez, Emma, you're sexy... I want to fuck you, Emma... So help me, I do."
Emma's cunt was already soaking wet inside her pajamas. She was glad to hear Harry suggest they fuck. She was more than ready for it. Her pussy throbbed at the prospect of something thick and hard pushing deep up inside her. "Oh God, Harry, yesssss. Let's do it, honey!"
With her lips still locked around his cock, she started to ease her one-piece outfit down over her shoulders. But much to her surprise and dismay, Harry pulled her to her feet. "Come on, baby. Let's go into the bedroom."
Emma was slightly disappointed. She wanted to enjoy the impetuous thrill of making it in the living room. She and Harry had never done that. But her cunt was hungry, she wasn't about to argue details like place, so she took his hand and followed him dutifully into the bedroom.
There, Harry quickly removed his clothes and suggested Emma do likewise. He stretched out on his back on the bed and invited Emma to fuck him. She had been looking forward to being taken by her husband, with him on top of her. Now the idea of fucking him the way Helen had done to Ken started to appeal to her.
"Okay, baby... I'm going to fuck you!" Her lewd words, uttered as she climbed menacingly onto the bed, shocked her. But, more than that, they excited her. She wanted to be master. She wanted to fuck him long and hard, give him something to remember.
Her cunt throbbing urgently, she straddled her husband and sat down on his cock. She closed her eyes and shrieked as his thick hard rod surged deep up into her craving pussy. She could feel how tight she was in there. His cock was a snug fit. Her cunt clutched it fiercely.
At once she began to raise and lower her hips over Harry's upthrusting member. She remembered how proud and free the redheaded Helen had looked riding her boyfriend's prick. Quite consciously now, she imitated Helen. Her twat slammed hard down against Harry's crotch, again and again. His delicious cock penetrated her furthermost depths on each impalement.
"Mmmmmm... ooohhhhh... aaaaahhhhh, Harry-y-y!" She felt like a wailing banshee as she moaned and whimpered atop her husband's cock.
Her enjoyment was intense, both from the physical presence of his cock, and from the thought of herself leading their lovemaking in this way.
"Hhhnnnhhh... Jee-zuz!" Harry was slightly awed by his wife's new sexual boldness. She had never been a passive fuck, but she had never been this strong, wailing sex-maniac, either. For the moment, he couldn't question it. The hot tingling in his cock and balls forbade that. Their pleasure came first. And she was giving him pleasure -- the most divine pleasure of his life.
He looked up into Emma's face and was surprised by her look of agony-distorted lust. It was almost as though she were a stranger, with her red lips and dark-painted blue eyes and rouged cheeks. She was like a Goddess of sensuality, greedy and gutsy and beautiful. But she was not his wife, not his safe little wife.
For a long time, husband and wife writhed in the abandoned throes of their hypnotic excitement. Cock and cunt met and meshed and became lost in one another. His flesh was indistinguishable from her flesh. It was all just pleasure. Wild, guiltless, alcohol-inspired pleasure.
"Ooohh, Harry!" Emma moaned this refrain over and over again. The intensity of her passion was growing steadily. She began to maneuver her hips up and down with a goal in mind. She wanted to cum.
Faster, faster, faster -- her cunt seized and released his cock again and again, until the man was gritting his teeth to keep from losing himself to his climax.
Emma was riding no-hands on Harry's cock. Her hands held her hair up over her head. It made her feel naked, sexy, beautiful.
When her strength to keep on pumping failed her, he grabbed her hips and moved them up and down over his stiff prick. But only for a little while. He was ready.
"Uuuhh, Jee-zuz! Me too!" He shot his heavy load deep into her clasping cunt. He could feel her pussy-muscles sucking the juices right out of him. He was left with a drained feeling that was totally relaxing. He drifted. He fell asleep.
When Emma realized her husband was asleep, she smiled ruefully down at his oblivious face.
"Well, Harry... you won. We fucked before bedtime after all."
She looked at the alarm clock. It was nine-fifteen. She rolled over onto her back and began to excite her clitoris into renewed hardness.
Emma woke the next morning tingling and expectant.
For a moment she couldn't remember why. Then she knew. She had had a wonderful sexy time the night before. It was the best sex she had ever had with her husband, even if he did fall asleep right afterward. He always did that.
What she wanted this morning, more than anything, was a morning quickie to revive the bright glow of last night's experience. She rolled over and reached for her husband. He wasn't there.
Alarmed, she sat up in bed and looked at the clock. It was ten-fifteen! She hadn't slept this late in years!
Somehow, waking up to find herself alone depressed her. Not only did it mean she would not get her morning fuck. It also gave a faint hint of disapproval. Why hadn't Harry awakened her, at least to kiss her good-bye? Surely last night had been special for him too?
She slipped into her bathrobe and went into the kitchen, looking for some sign of him, some expression of his love and attention. Maybe he had left her a note.
Sure enough, there, on a page of her memo pad, was a hastily scribbled note. It read: "Whew! That was a heavy night! I think I'm almost back to my old self. Hope you are too. Harry."
Not even a "Love, Harry". Emma was so disappointed she could have cried. But she was too damned angry to cry. Couldn't he have had a little more sensitivity than that? "Back to my old self"! Good God, that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted his new self. She wanted them to be excited, exciting lovers! She had enjoyed getting drunk with Harry. They had never done anything that carefree before!
The more she thought about it, the more Emma realized Harry had been humoring her the night before. He hadn't really wanted to do any of the things she had suggested. She had had to cajole and bully him into it. Sure, he had had a good climax -- but he would just as soon have waited till bedtime and done it their usual way. Sober and quick.
Emma felt frustrated. She wasn't going to be her husband's lackey any more. That was all there was to it. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but she was going to do something. She went into the bathroom and carefully made up her face. Then she put on a shimmery little low-cut yellow top and a matching, hip-hugging skirt. Now all she had to do was figure out where to go to be seen.
She decided what she needed was a little liquid courage. She went to the bar and poured herself a healthy scotch-on-the-rocks. It burned going down, as always. It fortified her.
Just as she was about to leave, she heard a knock on the front door. Feeling hurried and slightly annoyed, she rushed to open it. Much to her surprise, it was the Harrow's Household Helpers man. She smiled and felt an excited tingle all over.
The answer to a maiden's prayer?
Feeling saucy and flirtatious under the mask of her makeup, she motioned the big man in. "Nice to see you again. You certainly are prompt. I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
He smiled at her and gave a flattering once-over. "I didn't think I'd be by today, but luck was with me." He paused. "You look great, Mrs. Tate... er, Emma."
"Thank you, Bob. Won't you sit down while I look for ray purse?" She knew exactly where her purse was, but she was stalling for time. Did she dare commit herself to what she knew she wanted but what all the rules said was wrong?
Bob was staring at her as she pretended to look for her purse. He was stunned in the difference three days had wrought in this woman. She seemed shy and awkward on Monday morning. Now she seemed very outgoing, very sure of herself. Bob was pleased with this new side of his customer. He too had felt the immediate attraction between them the other day.
Now he was beginning to think it might be possible to do something about it. "I hope I'm not keeping you from anything, Emma." She was, rummaging in the coat closet by the front door. "You look like you were going out. You sure are pretty as a picture." He admired the full ripe swell of her ass as she bent into the closet and fumbled in a jumble of shoes and galoshes.
He was struck by her beauty as she stood up and turned to face him. Her tits were only half hidden by her blouse, and his eyes gravitated to them like a duck to water.
"I was going out," she said. "But there's no hurry about it. I just get bored with being in the house all day, day after day. You know what I mean?"
Ah-hah, he thought lecherously. A bored and frustrated housewife. Horny too, undoubtedly.
"Sure... I know. Anyone as beautiful as you, Emma, should never be bored. All you got to do is step out the door in that outfit, and you'll have all the attention you want."
Emma was aware of his eyes on her tits. She thrust them out proudly. "This is silly of me. I'm always hiding my purse somewhere save, so it won't be lying around if a stranger comes m... not you, of course, Bob." She blinked her wide blue eyes at him trustingly. "Now I can't find it. Oh well, I'll think of where I put it. In the meantime, would you like a drink? I know it's just noon, but I won't tell if you don't."
Bob's cock jerked a little in his pants. This was getting more and more promising. "Sure... I'd love a drink. Mine's bourbon."
She served them both, and sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. She turned and leaned against the arm, tucking her legs demurely under her. This way, he had a full view of her breasts. "So tell me about yourself. How did you ever get a job with..." She laughed. "What's the name again?"
"Harrow's Household Helpers. H.H.H. for short. I was between gigs, and they looked like an up-and-coming outfit. I've only been with them a couple of months, and I'm making a boodle."
"I can understand why. You're a very good salesman." What she really meant was he was a very good-looking guy, but she didn't quite have the nerve to say that. Bold as she was feeling, there were still limits set by the "old" Emma.
"Why, thank you, Emma. And may I tell you you're a very good customer."
They both laughed. Both knew what the other was thinking. They were giving each other signals, coded in the harmless talk of customer-sales relations. They had finished their drinks, and both were tingling with the effects, particularly Emma. She had had two. She rose to make them refills.
"Hey, Emma, go easy on that stuff. You'll have me too drunk to finish my rounds today."
She grinned suggestively at him. The drink was releasing her inhibitions. "So... you're already a day ahead of yourself, aren't you? Maybe you can afford some time off... eh?" She sat a little closer to him on the couch this time.
"Maybe I can." He reached out and drew her closer to him. His mouth bore down on hers. His tongue searched deep up inside her mouth.
"Mmmmmm... nice..." Emma sat her drink down and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. From the first touch of his lips, she knew for certain that this was what she wanted -- the excitement of a new, unexplored male. One who was hot and ready for her. Her tongue darted out to dance with his. Her pussy flared inside her panties.
When they finally came up for air, he grinned down at her and began to run his hands over her breasts. "You're quite a woman, Emma. I guessed that before, but now that I'm touching you, I know for sure. You respond beautifully."
His remarks hit home. This man appreciated her sensuality. He was turned on, intensely, as strongly as she herself was. She took a quick glance down at the crotch of his trousers. There was a big promising bulge there.
Acting purely on instinct aided by the hot tingle of the alcohol, Emma reached up and untied her blouse. She slipped it off to reveal the full, pink-tipped orbs to his eager gaze. "Feel them now, Bob. I want you to feel them." She looked down. Her nipples were already hard from the soft caresses he had been administering through her blouse. Now they seemed to leap right into his hands as he touched her. Once again his mouth bore down on hers.
While his hands investigated every curve and swell of her tits, their mouths came to know each other's flavor and preferences.
Emma could feel her pussy responding hungrily. It was throbbing with need. The sensation made her groan into his mouth. She was shocked and disappointed when he drew back from her. She looked at his handsome face, at his broad shoulders and taut chest. Her whole being seemed to leap toward him.
She wanted him so much.
"You're beautiful, Emma." His hands held hers, caressing them softly, as though to sooth her. "I want to kiss you some more, Emma. Will you take off the rest of your clothes for me?"
Her eyes gave him all the answer he needed, but her lips added validation. "Yes."
She raised her ass from the couch as he pulled down her skirt and panties. "My God, you're a beautiful woman!" With her skirt and panties still clinging to her knees, he leaned forward and began to suck her nipples, first one, then the other.
"Ooohhh... oh God, that's good-d-d!" She felt so free, so sexy, to be sitting naked on the couch while this stranger made wonderful tender love to her. The restriction of her clothing around her knees made her feel daring, excited. He wanted her so much, was so overcome by the sight of her naked body, he couldn't wait to investigate her hills and valleys.
His mouth moved down over her stomach, her belly. Emma slumped farther down on the cushions, rested her ass on the very edge. She wanted to give him room to work. Her unacknowledged wish was that his lips would keep on moving down...
"Your skin's so soft, Emma. Tastes so good."
The young housewife hadn't known such sensuous men existed. He was licking her all over, covering her body with a fine film of his saliva. The cool sensation as it evaporated made her tinge all over. She could feel him finall
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"Ol' Brendan's gonna get the main vein drained today, eh?"
Even Jerry, who l ..continue reading
My name is Tim. I am not, nor have I ever been, married. I have never wanted to be married. I know and have known some very special women. They have shown me that there are a large number of women who, through no fault of their own, are stuck in a lo ..continue reading
My pervert Granny
It was early when I began indulging in our sexual fantasies about my mom. I had often spied on mom while she showered and dressed. I also stole her dirty panties from the hamper. This was the fuel for many of my jack-off sessions.
One day, when I ha ..continue reading