George Perry

The willing wife

CHAPTER ONE

Charles moved up the bed and between her legs, lowered himself slowly, entering her cunt as he came down. No foreplay. No tender wards or kisses. Just business as usual, she told herself. Never changes a fuck stroke or move for anything.

Jan hated the robot-like performance of her husband, but surrendered to the fact that she desperately needed a fuck, regardless of the quality. Even his sterile approach was satisfying, she realized, when the entire week was spent fantasizing about fucking.

She even daydreamed of making love to Charles, showing him the sensations her full, moist lips could produce on his cock. And she hungered for the sensations and tastes she would discover while doing it.

"Mmmmm…" she cooed, slipping into her fantasy world. "It feels so good," she whispered in his ear, twisting and grinding furiously to reach the peak of excitement. The throbbing cock did feel good, she admitted. "Ohhh… harder… harder."

"I'm coming," Charles said through clenched teeth.

"Ohhh! Harder!" shea gasped. "Fuck me hard… harder… mmmm…" She reached the summit and was over the top when Charles began his climax. She arched off the bed to meet his thrust, enjoying the spray of his juice on the flaming walls of her pussy. "Ahhhhh…"

Moments later Charles withdrew his cock. She knew he would. Then he'd go straight to the bathroom to shower. He did. She waited to hear the shower running before turning on the lamp next to the bed and reaching for a cigarette. Charles didn't approve of smokiig. Come to think of it, Charles didn't approve of much. But his sterilized lifestyle got him the vice presidency at the bank and a comfortable life for her. And he was only forty-two! Plenty of time to become president… if his loving wife kept her nose clean. If? That was a laugh. One false move and the whole town would know about it.

Janice Latimer started to open the door to the toolshed. Her thoughts had, nothing to do with the task of gardening she was about to begin. Instead she fantasized about the neighbors she knew would be watching her body as she pretended to work. An ego-trip for a frustrated, thirty-four-year-old suburban housewife.

But it was important for her to know that men still found her sexually attractive. The mirror told her she hadn't changed much with age… tall, with dark-brown hair to the shoulders, doe-like eyes and sensuous lips, fully developed, firm tits and well-turned legs…

Her episodes in the garden started by accident. She was planting a few geraniums when she caught her neighbor gawking over the hedges. A flush of delight filled her body and gave her something to think about all week. If he liked what he saw when she was wearing old slacks and an old baggy sweater, what would he do if she wore something a little more revealing?