Delia nodded, lifted up her dress and dropped her panties.
"Please do it easy, Samuel. It really hurts when you do it too hard."
"Yahoooo!" Coach Crowley shouted when he glimpsed Delia's hairy brown twat. "Boy, I can tell you're more eager than I am. Just look at your cunt oozing juice!"
Which wasn't true at all. Delia's pussy was as dry as the Sahara. Her cunt-lips weren't even open yet. She wasn't hotter than her husband and she sure didn't want to fuck at five o'clock dinnertime. Christ, they should be feeding their faces instead of their lusts.
"Do we have to do it on the kitchen table, Samuel? That always seems so disgusting."
Coach Crowley sneered, jacked his prick a couple of times. "Delia, when people are as hot as we are, they fuck all over the place. Now come on, get on that fucking table and spread!"
Delia resignedly got her ass on the table the fucking table and spread. She was on her back, her ass perched over the edge her thighs spread so far apart that one knee touched Coach Crowley's dinner plate, the other his sports page.
Laid out wide like she was, Coach Crowley was drooling and more white cream was flowing from his prick-hole. Shit, she sure wasn't any Marcia Moresby. Delia was a hefty chunky woman whose best assets were her cooking and her tits.
"Ooooohhh, Delia, you hot-cunt woman! Here I come, ready or not!"
Delia Crowley was not a hot-cunt woman, at least not today and she definitely wasn't ready to have her hefty ass fucked off by her swarthy, sweating husband.
Coach Crowley seemed to jump between her widespread thighs, guiding his prick into the heat of her pussy. He looked down, getting his rocks off at the sight of his bulging cock-head pushing Delia's puffy cunt-lips.
"Please, Samuel. Do it easy. It really does hurt when you do it hard!"
Samuel did it hard, really hard, getting all of his two hundred fifty pounds behind the heaving shove of his hips. His cock bent slightly then straightened out as it shot deep and true into Delia's dry cunt-hole.
"Aaaaiiieee!! Oh, Samuel! You're hurtin' me! Please do it easy! Don't do it hard!"
Coach Crowley grinned at Delia. Grinned lasciviously. "Aw, don't feed me that horse-shit, Delia. All women like getting fucked hard and fast."
"Please, Samuel. Do it easy."
Coach Crowley was withdrawing his prick, getting ready for the next cavalry charge into her pussy. Bugles seemed to blare and the sound of someone screaming could be heard somewhere behind the back of his mind. Hog fucking shit! It sure felt good to ram and jam his cock into a tight, hot cunt!
"Aaagggghhh!" Delia moaned. Christ, his cock was killing her. She didn't want to fuck, didn't want to have his prick in her cunt, just didn't want to be penetrated to the womb by the thunderous dong that filled her cunt when Coach Crowley was coming. The whole fucking neighborhood knew when Coach Crowley was coming. He was bellowing like a boar getting its nuts crushed by a vise.
"Aaarrrrggghhh! Oh, fucking Lord! So good! So fucking good!"
Delia was writhing in pain, her thighs slapping Coach Crowley's hunching hips with sweaty slaps. Shit, it felt as if Coach Crowley were trying to stuff a football into her cunt-lengthwise. But at least he was coming, spurting the final drops of jizz into her cunt.
Coach Crowley pulled out as soon as the last of his fuck juice emptied out of his prick-tube. He gazed down at the mess between Delia's thighs. Her cunt looked bruised, puffy like, dribbling white streams of jism all over the fucking kitchen table.
"Not bad, eh, Delia? Now, come on and get up. I sure am hungry after a hot fuck like that."
Delia got up, her dress sliding back into place. She bowlegged it over to the kitchen sink, cum-juice tracks tailing after her.
Coach Crowley began devouring the roast beef. Shit, it was cold and tasted flat. And as he gobbled down huge slices of meat, thoughts of Marcia Moresby's hot ass-cheeks clouded his mind. Shit, he sure could use a piece of that.
As he swallowed the meat, washed it down with beer, he vowed that if he couldn't fuck Marcia's ass by the end of the semester, he would at least go back to fucking Connie Ryan in the ass, the way she really liked to get fucked, just like the way his wife liked to be fucked in the cunt.
Shit, women sure were particular about where they got cock.
They always fucked in the dark, because it was only proper and Christian to fuck in the dark. And they only fucked when they wanted to make babies, and that was why there were thirteen little Worthingtons running around Weedville.
Now, they were trying to make the fourteenth little Worthington. A very solemn occasion, considering that in fourteen years of marriage Reverend Jordan Worthington had only fucked his wife thirteen times.
He looked forward to creating the fourteenth Worthington.
The pious Elizabeth Stanton Worthington dreaded the act of sexual congress. She couldn't understand why God couldn't have devised a better, more decent way of creating angelic girls and devilish boys. Why couldn't He have made it so that in a handshake a couple would create their children? Nobody would think that a handshake was a nasty thing. The child could then just pop out of the woman's wrist. Presto! Another wonderful babe produced by the joining of hands. How wonderful it would be.
She shushed herself; she had no right questioning the way God had devised for a man and woman to make babies-filthy, sloppy and nasty though it be.
"Are you there, Elizabeth?" Reverend Worthington called as he stepped into the pitch black bedroom.
"I am here, Jordan."
Reverend Worthington was naked. Of course, his wife wouldn't know that he was naked until she touched him.
Elizabeth Worthington was naked too shivering in dread anticipation atop the sheets, the blankets neatly piled by her spread-apart feet.
Jordan Worthington touched her feet.
"Oh there you are, Elizabeth
His hands were resting on her feet, and he was trying to figure out how high up on the bed he would have to crawl before his cock got into her cunt. He started crawling.
"Please be kind and gentle, Jordan."
Reverend Worthington was trying to be as kind and gentle as he could. But it was so damn ridiculous trying to find her cunt in the dark. He knew it was around here someplace.
Ah! There it was. He had brushed it with his knee; he had moved too far up the bed. He backtracked, placed his kindly hands as gently as possible on Elizabeth's trembling hips.
Reverend Worthington could feel her legs start to move up; she was ready to receive his seed.
His cock was ready shit, it had been ready for this occasion for the last three weeks. Ever since the last time he had been over to Connie Ryan's place, fucking and sucking the shit out of her cunt. He thought of Connie Ryan now. Imagined that it was Connie Ryan he was going to screw.
His cock was quivering, the tip exuding droplets of pre-cum on Elizabeth's pussy-mound.
"Eeeeekkk!" Elizabeth shrieked. Why did sex have to be so nasty!
Jordan had almost jumped out of the bed when she shrieked. "Are you hurt, Elizabeth?"
"N-No, Jordan. Just nervous, I guess." Elizabeth bit her lower lip. She could feel that drop of sperm winding its way through the hairs of her pussy. sliding oozingly through the slit of her cunt, finally resting wetly in the crack of her ass. She tensed her body. Prayed to God.
"Are you ready, Elizabeth?"
"Y-Yes, Jordan. I am ready to receive your seed." Why did sex make her feel like she was lying in hog turds?
Jordan lowered his body atop his wife's trembling flesh. His prick-head grazed against the lips of her cunt, and Elizabeth jumped as if someone had shoved a douche nozzle up her ass. Naturally her hips lunged in the wrong direction towards Jordan's ready to fuck prick.
The prick slid in; the full knob of his cock was inside her pussy.
Elizabeth jumped again. Fear was commanding her movements. She didn't want that prick up her cunt, but she was becoming so anxiety-ridden that every movement she made was forcing her cunt onto the shaft of Jordan's prick. God worked in mysterious ways.