My husband was furious the day I walked into the greenhouse where he was working
wearing my brand new black rubber party dress. He shook me, saying I behaved
like a 'part-time prostitute'. I giggled and leaned forward over a stack of seed
boxes and suggested it might be nice if he fucked me for being such a naughty
girl -- but he didn't want to play. He said he was ashamed of me and that I
should act my age -- whatever that means. I was so humiliated by his rejection,
I ran upstairs and locked myself in the bedroom. How dare he -- balding,
pot-bellied, almost twice my age -- dictate my style of dress! I spread my legs,
poured some body oil on my fingers and telephoned my judo instructor (and
lover). I held the mouthpiece next to my pussy as I rubbed myself off and asked
him if he could guess what I was doing. He called me a 'filthy broad' and I
asked if I'd given him a hard-on. He said I had, so I told him to drive over to
the house immediately and pick me up -- and to hell with my old man! When my
husband opened the door and saw him standing there, he completely changed his
tune, apologizing for having treated me harshly and begging me not to walk out
on him. But my lover held me in his arms and ran his hands all over my
figure-hugging dress and told my husband he was 'pathetic'. God, it was
exciting! When my husband started to remonstrate, my lover turned his back on
him, jammed his hand between my thighs and started feeling me up. I lifted -- or
peeled, rather -- the taut rubber hem up around my hips and opened my legs,
heart pounding like crazy at the sheer excitement of being goosed, with my
husband -- wild-eyed and utterly flustered -- standing just a couple of feet
away. "Perhaps you're right," I said to my husband, embracing my lover and
grinding my crotch against him as his fingers found my clitoris. "Maybe I'm
better suited to being a part-time prostitute than a housewife." At which time I
unzipped my lover's jeans and extracted his thumping hard-on. Now it seemed to
be my lover's turn to tell me off because he even started commenting on my
filthy mouth. My response? To drop to my knees and start sucking his cock,
digging my fingernails as hard as I could into his tight, muscled little butt.
I'd show him how 'filthy' I was! My husband begged me to stop, so I withdrew my
lover's massive cock from my mouth and smiled at my husband while rubbing my
lover's dribbling glans into my cheeks. I hardly ever blow my husband -- even
when he gets desperate and tries to seduce me -- yet there I was, kneeling in
the hall sucking blissfully and blatantly on my lover's cock like a hardcore
kiss-o-gram girl, my husband bitching and whining and wringing his hands in the
background. "Take me upstairs," I said to my lover. And then, turning to my
husband I flatly stated: "You can come watch, if you feel like it." I threw
myself on the bed, making sure my tight rubber sheath dress rode up my rump --
which was in dire need of a nice massage. "Be my guest," said my lover to my old
man, offering my buns to him out of sympathy more than anything else. But my
husband's fumbled attempt at an erotic massage hardly excited me, let alone set
my clitoris twitching. Yeah, 'pathetic' is about right! I lowered my panties
down around my ass and propped myself up on one elbow, parting my legs so as to
stretch my pantie elastic to the breaking point. I told my lover to undress and
played with myself impatiently while he fumbled with his shoelaces. I laid back
on the bed, spread my legs and pulled my knees up into my chest as my lover
knelt before me, idly jerking himself off over the spectacle of my gaping,
copiously oiled sex. "You've greased your pussy," he drooled. "Well, if you're
chicken to lick me, I'll just have to play with myself," I teased, holding my
sex open -- and suddenly he was on me, gripping my knees and pushing them hard
apart as he buried his face into my slippery snatch, brushing my petals open
with the bridge of his nose and prodding my orifice with his tongue. When we
changed positions for a man-on-top 'soixante-neuf', I thought my husband was
about to blow a fuse. The sight of this big, hairy assed ex-construction worker
clambering atop his lady wife, pulling her tits from the bodice top of her
rubber dress and feeding his enormous cock into her mouth was testing his taste
for erotic adventure to the limit. Whether he was about to burst at the seams --
or merely ejaculate -- I had no idea. But there was no problem my big muscle
bound lover couldn't handle. "I want fucking," I told my lover, after thrashing
around for ages with my mouth glued to his erection. "Can I sit on it first?" He
laid back and I straddled his skinny, sinewy hips and slid up and down on his
joystick. My husband pulled up a chair, staring glassy-eyed at my cock-stuffed
pussy as I bobbed up and down, stretched to the limit by my lover's awesomely
impressive girth. "You can touch me if you want," I said to my husband, starting
to feel the teensiest pangs of guilt. "Touch me where his prick's going in. See
the way my lips wrap around him?" My husband was on his feet, his fingers
trembling as he tinkered with my twat. Then -- deliberately -- I pulled forward
so that my lover's prick flopped free, and, just as I'd hoped, my husband wasted
no time in replacing it with his fingers. "See?" crowed my old man to my lover.
"When she's really hot for it, only a real man will do!" He totally believed
himself too! Far from taking umbrage that he'd been cheated out of my pussy and
resigned to taking second place, my lover once again contented himself with my
mouth, spunking in it while my husband knelt behind me, clutching my ass giving
it to me hard and fast doggie style. I came so intensely, I almost screamed the
place down! I soaked in the bath for almost an hour. When I walked back into the
bedroom I was surprised to see my lover still there, by all accounts the best of
chums with my old man. I dropped my towel and bent down to retrieve my black
fishnets from the floor and my lover grabbed me and wrestled me to the bed. "I
hope you're not going to be gentle with me," I said.
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