Chapter 11
It was Sunday evening. Joyce had decided to spend the day at home cleaning and doing things around the house which she had neglected -- and to give her cunt a rest, though by seven o'clock it had rested enough and was ready for a good fucking.
Wearing only a skimpy black silk apron that accentuated her suntanned skin and voluptuous ass and tits, and with high-heeled shoes, she proceeded to dust her living-room furniture, sipping from her third glass of Scotch and water. She stretched high to dust the tops of the drapes as her pussy began to twitch and grow wet.
"That's beautiful," said a soft voice from behind her.
Startled, she dropped the duster and swiveled around.
Her husband Tom was there with a horny expression on his handsome face.
Two steps and they were embracing tightly and kissing hungrily. Her head was spinning with sexual anticipation.
After several long kisses without tongue-action, and not bothering to touch her ass, he pushed her back. "Oh, Joyce, darling, let me look at you. You're beautiful . . . absolutely stunning. I've been thinking about you every minute since the day I remembered that I'd forgotten your birthday. Finally I said to hell with this job, I'm going home. But I can only be gone today and tomorrow. So I'm taking off two days."
She looked disappointed, hurt. "Then you've got to leave -- "
"Tomorrow afternoon," he supplied, kissing her again. "And I want you to come with me."
He kissed her again and she slid her hand across his cock. It was maybe a quarter hard.
"You want to make love?" she asked hopefully.
"Later. Right now I -- "
"No! Not later! Right now! I need to be fucked real good with that cock of yours."
He was surprised and somewhat shocked, but allowed her to lead him into the bedroom.
"Get undressed," she said.
Almost hesitantly he began undressing, taking his slow and easy time.
"Don't you want to make love to me?" she asked, sliding out of her apron.
"Yes. It's just that -- well, we've never been so forward about it before."
"It's time for a change. You do love me, don't you, Tommy?"
He was naked. His eight inches had only grown to six. "Love you? Of course I love you. I worship you."
"Then suck my sweaty pussy."
"Huh?" He was flabbergasted to say the least.
"Suck my sweaty cunt," she said, lying back on the bed. "If you really love me like you say you do, get your face between my legs."
He was mortified as he crawled between her widely spread legs. He smelled her pungent cunt and knew that he'd never be able to go through with it. In one fast motion, he slid up and shoved his almost-hard cock to the lips of her musky cunt and drove it all the way into her.
"Tommy!" she squeaked, opening her eyes. "Eat it first! Then you can fuck it!"
"Not right now," he insisted. "I just had lunch on the plane and I don't want to get sick."
She was more hurt than angry.
She moved away from him and stood on the floor, tears forming in her sparkling eyes. Then she began dressing.
"Oh, Joyce, darling," he said. "What's happened to us?"
"You! That's what's happened. You don't love me. I don't think you've ever really loved me."
"Where you going?" he demanded. "To get drunk! And to find someone who doesn't think my pussy will make them sick." "Joyce!" But she was gone!