Slowly, ever so slowly, Gay. finally began to move her head down to his desire-thickened penis, holding it steady between the palms of her hands. Then Harry felt the incredible softness of her wetly parted lips close over the sensitive head of his hotly pulsating shaft, felt her firebrand tongue lick circles of liquid fire around and around it, flicking into the glans opening, drinking up the lubrication fluid there.
“Uuuuuuuhhhhhh!” Harry moaned in abject abandonment, and his hands lowered involuntarily to wrap themselves in her dark hair as he drove the full length of his massive hardness deep into the soft, warm confines of her hungrily sucking mouth.
“Mmmmmmmm!” Gay wailed in approval, and then she drew back slightly, so that she was able to taste the moist stickiness seeping from the tip again, twirling her tongue maddeningly faster around the blood-inflated head. Then she began to suck him rhythmically with all the practiced expertise he had come to revel in over the years. He watched her tightly ovalled lips working on his penis, watched the soft red circle of her mouth pulled outward and then shoved back again as she sawed her face up and down the full length of his rigidly swollen cock. His loins tensed and jerked upward into her face, his great pillar of hot male flesh disappearing with each hard inward thrust into her rounded wet mouth going in so far that only a very small portion of his thick meaty cock showed blood-red from her lipstick and wetly glistening with his wife’s hot saliva. Her tongue, with nerve-shattering lickings on the outstroke, was like a separate entity, a thing gone wild with lust within his mouth, making the rigid head jerk and convulse as though it, too, were alive and capable of independent action. She sucked voraciously, her breasts dancing wildly below her pumping head, twin globes of soft loveliness which added immeasurably to the lust-inciting picture he was viewing.
His lips formed the words of encouragement which he wanted to say aloud, but couldn’t:
“Suck, baby, suck me, suck me, that’s it, keep sucking me, keep sucking me!” At that moment he didn’t care one Goddamned about Jill Parker or about all the women he’d fucked in his life; women Gay had helped him conquer in exchange for the privilege of sucking and fucking their husbands; he didn’t give one damn for any of them but Gay, his Gay, his wonderful cock-sucking wife.
And she slaved below, her nakedly kneeling body glistening from tiny droplets of lust-sweat. Her right hand had gone down between her legs, and she was inserting her outstretched middle finger into the hot, wetly waiting entrance to her vagina. She slid it all the way in to her palm, drew it out to the nail, slid it in again. Faster and faster she fingered herself as she sucked her husband’s hotly throbbing shaft of male flesh, her smoothly rounded buttocks heaving and twisting in the air and her sensually swaying breasts doing an insane dance.
The sheer lasciviousness of the sight caused the pressure to build unbearably in Harry’s sperm laden balls. He shoved his loins up hard against her face, needing release of the maddening buildup of churning semen m his scrotum, knowing that he was going to cum any second now, cum, cum, cum…
And then, all at once, he felt the eruption happen, felt the first jet of white-hot cum leap along the passage of his wildly jerking cock. He gasped, his lips pulled back across his teeth as if he were in mortal agony, and then his massively swelling penis began to flood his wife’s mouth without advance warning. Rush after rush of burning hot semen bloated her cheeks outward with each spurt until she was forced to swallow wildly to keep from strangling, mewling and crooning her delight at the thick liquid which he was favoring her taste buds with, finger-fucking herself into a climax with her madly working middle finger.
“Oooooohhhhh!” cried Harry, his hands working spasmodically in her hair now, seeing his own white hot cum spill out around his cock at the corners of his wife’s mouth, spill out and form thick white puddles on his pubic hair as she gluttonously sucked and nibbled his still ejaculating cock while her own nakedly aroused body shuddered and trembled in the throes of her own consuming orgasm.
Then, finally, it was over and Gay collapsed across Harry’s lower belly, his rapidly deflating cock slipping from her warm mouth with a soft, obscene plopping sound. She ran her tongue over her semen smeared lips, licking into her mouth every last vestige of his juices, and then she lowered her head to nuzzle and lick his balls and his now-deflated cock in thankfulness. Then, after a time, she crawled up and kissed him full on the mouth, her tongue sliding between his teeth to fill his throat; he accepted it gratefully.
They lay there for awhile, and then Gay said, “How did you like that, lover? Was it as good as always?”
“Jesus!” Harry whispered. It was all he could say.
His wife laughed softly. “I guess I haven’t lost my touch. I guess Tom Parker won’t be too disappointed with me tomorrow.”
“Disappointed?” Harry emitted a long, contented sigh, and then put voice to what he had been thinking earlier. “He doesn’t know how Goddamned lucky he’s going to be.”
“You’re sweet, lover,” Gay said, and then she moved beside him, taking his hand and gliding it down over her sweat-slick belly to the warm pulsating wetness of her cunt. “And now you have to reciprocate for what I just did for you. You have to suck my hot little cunt.” Again, it was a command, but Harry didn’t care; after what she had just done for him, he would have obeyed any order she gave him. He would have licked her asshole if she’d wanted him to… Come to think of it, that wasn’t a bad idea.
Smiling, feeling his wetly glistening cock begin to stir again, Harry moistened his lips and slid down the sofa to where his wife’s warmly throbbing pussy waited for him in all its hot, moist splendor, and her tiny puckered anus lay nestled teasingly below it.
Jill Parker lay on the bed in her room, feeling miserable and never more alone. The… near-rape by Harry Sommers, coming as a result of her own foolish drunkenness, had been the one crushing blow to cap a day filled with unhappiness and portensions of a final marital split between Tom and herself He hadn’t been home when she came rushing back to the room after fleeing Sommers, and now she wondered if maybe Harry had been right in thinking Tom was out somewhere, “getting his.". No, that wasn’t possible, Jill thought. Whatever else Tom was; he wasn’t a cheat; he wouldn’t be unfaithful to her. Would he? Oh God, she didn’t know what to believe anymore.
It was dark in the room and hot, and after awhile Jill got up and undressed, and put on her light pajamas. She slid beneath the cool sheets on the double bed and tried to sleep, but she found herself worrying about Tom and wondering where he had gone off to. Probably someplace to get drunk; God, she hoped not! He was… well, he was almost like an animal when he was drinking heavily. Not that he beat her up or anything, but he became incredibly demanding, and if she didn’t respond.
An involuntary shudder passed through Jill’s slender body, but it wasn’t only from the thought of Tom and his demanding ways when drunk. No, it was a shudder born of fear – yes, and of guilt and shame at her own shortcomings. She didn’t want to lose Tom, didn’t want to face the coming years and decades alone or with some other man. She was a dependent woman, she knew that too, and yet to be totally submissive, the way he wanted her to be, seemed a simple impossibility.