Kiss me lower, darling, she prayed silently to herself. Do what Martin did, please! Make me want you more than I want him!
Three months without sex had caught up with him. He had not been unfaithful to his wife, only unable to face her, shamed that he had become a thief, but with the prospect of even further advancement soon to come for him, he was safe. He would not have to steal again. The more than ninety days away from her had left him filled with desire.
His throbbing penis felt as if it were going to burst, and she had not even touched it yet in its full naked state. He was filled with a rising torrent of passion and could not hold himself back.
There was no method, no plan to his lovemaking. He was guided only by what was closest, and at that moment the soft, wet lips of her vagina were nearer to him than anything. Not thinking that she might repulse him, he lowered his head a few inches and started to nuzzle his nose between her legs into the soft, resilient hair that covered her womanhood.
Instead of being revolted as she had always been before Martin, Janet was further excited by the fact that her husband was going into hitherto forbidden territory. He was going to do it to her just like Martin had! Oh, yes, please, yes. Her heart pounded at a furious rate as she felt his nose slide through the soft pubic hair between her legs and part it gently for an infinitesimal moment.
He pushed her back softly onto the bed and she fell with her legs spread crab-like and resting most of her weight back on her shoulders as she lifted her hips to open herself to his probing mouth.
"Oooohhhhhh," she moaned. "Don't stop, darling. That's sooooo good."
Greg was too engrossed to be surprised at her actions. He thought that his wife too had been without sex all this time and would be ready for anything. He would not be surprised that, in order to please herself, she had probably been masturbating during their abstention. The thought of her finger-fucking herself brought an involuntary twitch to his blood-filled penis that was already jerking in anticipation of what was to come.
As he nuzzled in closer, his tongue licked wetly at the smooth, pink flesh that enclosed the soft, hair-lined opening to her vagina. Then, pulling himself up so that he too was completely on the mattress, he felt her tugging desperately at his thigh, beckoning him to turn his body so that she could also indulge in sucking him.
God, he thought to himself, she's really ready. I've never seen her like this before.
Eagerly he turned so that his cock neared her head. He pulled at her clitoris with pursed lips, torturing the small, throbbing bud until Janet thought she could stand it no longer.
"Oh, my darling," she gasped aloud as she pulled his cock toward her lips and with a groan, sucking the whole head into her mouth at once, swirling her tongue around it voraciously.
"Oooooohhhh, baby," he moaned, feeling her moist, wet lips hungrily caress the length of his hardened cock. Her teeth toyed with the edges of his glans, feeling like razor blades cutting into the reddened flesh. She gulped at him, though her mouth was not as full as it had been with Martin's great cock, this was better, this was the man she loved! The man she really loved!
He pointed his tongue and entered the open, waiting passageway to her insides. Her flesh burned at his touch. The tongue circled amateurishly at the inner flesh, while he sucked at her. "Oh, darling," she gasped. "Oh, Martin, please hurry, Martin…"
Martin! The name lanced through his brain like a pistol shot. Martin! She said Martin! His cock suddenly deflated like a balloon in her mouth. Her lower jaw dropped at the sudden shriveling of his penis, unaware in her wild sexual revery of what she had said.
He raised himself on the bed to look at her. His eyes were red with hurt and anger, sheltered by arched brows that could have belonged to Satan himself.
"You called me Martin," he said almost in a whisper. And suddenly, coming to her senses, she remembered.
She had said Martin!
Her face turned to a mask of terror. It was over. She was exposed and vulnerable. From the look on his face she thought she would never get the chance to explain before, in his wild, jealous rage, he killed her.
She froze as he lifted himself erect on his knees. "You bitch!" he screamed as he slapped her viciously across the face. A red welt immediately rose where his hand had struck.
Tears of pain and betrayal streamed down her still heated cheeks. She had betrayed herself. "No, Greg, I–I didn't. You're wrong," she said, looking at him pleadingly, knowing that he didn't believe her.
"You couldn't resist that big stud, could you," he said, then slapped her again. The room seemed to break with the sound of his hand striking her face. "How long," he shouted at her, getting off the bed and walking to the closet. He faced the closet door. "How long, you whore?" he demanded, then slammed his fist through the wooden panel.
Afraid to answer, she sobbed while he waited. "Answer me!" he yelled at her, turning so that she could see the blood red eyes, filled with tears of rage. His fists were clenched at his sides. Every muscle in his body was tight, straining at his skin.
"Once," she answered sheepishly, waiting for his reaction. "Only once."
"Bull," he roared. "You expect me to believe that!"
He took a step toward her. Her voice broke as she spoke. "Please, you must believe me. I was drunk. It was the night you left for Dallas. I was drunk when he brought me home. It was in the car. I…"
"In the car! Christ! Like a couple of high school kids!"
"No, darling, please. I thought it was you," she lied. "I didn't know, until we were in the house and had coffee…"
"You brought him into the house? Into our house? Into our bed?"
"No, I, no… yes… in the house."
"Did he fuck you here, on this bed," Greg asked. His tone had quieted. He moved closer to her, standing over her as she cowered on the bed, trying to tell what had happened.
The same word, Janet thought. He said the same word. Greg had never sworn in front of her except for an occasional damn. "Yes, here."
"Say it, you little whore," he said, leaning on his knuckles. "Say that he fucked you here."
"Yes!" she yelled back. "He fucked me here!" She broke and started sobbing worse. The lewd grin on her husband's face was the same one she had seen when Martin had ravaged her on the very same bedspread.
"Did he play with this," he said, putting his fingers on her clitoris. She nodded helplessly as he began to toy with the still swollen bud that ached from go much attention. "Or this," he asked, shoving his finger hard into the dampened opening of her vagina.
"What else did he do?" Greg demanded. "This," and he bent his head and bit at the softness between her legs. "Tell me!"
This wasn't her Greg. She could not believe that the depraved man slobbering down between her thighs was her husband. She started to mumble what had happened to her, feeling his tongue drive deeper into her cunt as she half whispered out the sordid story of her adultery. It played with her, sending her quickly to a new high of tense excitement as she talked.
"And he made me suck him," she groaned, her body writhing beneath his nibbling lips. "His prick was soft when we started and he made me suck it."
Greg's too, was still soft. But as he nibbled at the open mouth of her fiery cunt he turned his body on the bed. She knew exactly what the gesture meant and bent her head, grabbing the soft, flaccid cock and swallowing it deep in her mouth. It grew rapidly as she began to suck at it. The head rose in temperature, heating the entire inside of her mouth.
Greg raised his head from between her legs, "Then what!"
"He made me hum while I sucked him," she answered, her eyes closed with shame.
"Hum, bitch!" he commanded. "Suck me and hum just like you did with him!"