Chapter 1
Becky Kohn turned off the television as soon as the speech was over. She didn't want to hear anybody's instant analysis of her husband's latest proposals. She sighed and flopped back down on the couch, realizing that she hadn't even listened to the speech itself. She had just listened to Derek's voice, just looked at his face. He had been on the campaign trail for over a month, and before that he was so busy getting ready for it that he might as well have been gone.
She was the most envied woman in California, married to Derek Kohn, the bright, ambitious, and rising politician. How many other women under thirty had such a brilliant life to look forward to; she would be a Senator's wife before long, and after that, well ...
Not everyone who looked at her would have felt envy. Most men would have felt something quite different. She was a tall, slender woman with flowing honey-colored hair and a face that would grow more dignified with age and still be beautiful. Dignity was important in her family, which traced its ancestry back to the Jamestown colony and had become a proud, aristocratic clan. It was also important to a Senator's wife.
But there was more to her than dignity, she half-thought to herself as she rose and swept with the grace of a gazelle toward the bedroom. Dressed in her elegant, floor-length dressing gown patterned with gold and silver squiggles that gleamed even in the dimmest light, it was impossible to say anything about the rest of her. But when she had laboriously undone all the tiny buttons and stepped out of the heavy gown as though out of a tent, her filmy nightgown that came down as far as her crotch, did nothing to obscure her charms that might be of interest to others.
Despite her slender build, she had large breasts that did not look out of place. Perhaps that was because they were so high and firm that the delicious mounds looked almost weightless, with their brown nipples like chocolate kisses on a sea of cream. For her skin was that rich shade of white that was not pale, and yet not tan, but a tint that both matched and contrasted with her hair. Her hair, somewhere between yellow and brown, lay lightly on her shoulders and divided, some cascading forward over the transparent night gown, the rest falling down her back to where the bottom edge of the gown tickled the lower halves of her buttocks, those finely-formed hemispheres with the concave sides, smooth as ivory, but yielding to the touch, and warm.
She cupped her hands over her genital area, pushing the thin material of her night gown against herself, then wondered why she was doing that and released it. From under her hands sprang a tuft of soft down the same color as her other hair. It puffed out and down, looking almost like a little cloud, so thin that the lips of her vulva were visible through it in the right light.
Becky wondered why she had put on the sexy gown at all. She knew Derek wouldn't be home that night. She stood in front of the full-length mirror and studied herself. Then, as though stalking some creature hiding in a bush, her hands crept down her flat, smooth stomach, and all at once snatched the front corners of her night gown and spread them as wide as they would go. "Ah-ah," she announced triumphantly, as though she had just discovered something. The front edges pulled her breasts apart too, the malleable flesh squeezed, and the border catching the nipples.
She let the corners go, and watched with exaggerated sadness as they floated back down and together. Then suddenly, she discovered that the sadness wasn't exaggerated anymore, that she was very sad, and lonely. If Derek were here, she thought, he wouldn't let them close again.
Her little game continued, as she took the corners again and pulled them down taut, so that the edges worked their way into the opening of her vagina, pressing the lips back just as her breasts had been pressed. Only this revealed the deep red skin beneath, the folds and folds like a wilted rose now, wasted and unused.
"There's more to me than dignity," she said aloud, and wiggled her hips so that the cloth rasped against the tender interior of her opening. It was irritating, but it also felt good. She did it again, and then with a rhythm moving one hip and the other down, feeling the material slide against her most sensitive parts. She also noticed that the halves of her ass were rubbing together too, and her little buried and secret anus was being stimulated as well. But when this mild stimulation brought her clitoris rising up from its sheath, and the sliding, silky gown made contact, a feeling like an electric shock passed through the solitary wife.
She let go of the gown as though it was red hot. She knew all about masturbating, she had read all about it, and she didn't believe in it. It took a minute for the feeling to subside, for in that one instant, her blood has started flowing faster, and she could feel juices still being secreted down inside her unused cunt, dammed up there and yearning for the chance to flow.
It wasn't right, she reminded herself. It's one thing to submit to a man, to let him delve into her and open her floodgates and let all the passion, all the passion, all the juices, out. But to do it to herself wasn't dignified; she shouldn't have to do that. That was a man's job, Derek's job. She flopped down on the empty bed, and stretched one leg over to Derek's side, though she knew she wouldn't feel him there. The low light from the lamp on the bedside table played across her spread-eagle whiteness, visible now in all its naked glory, since she had let the night gown fall to the floor beside the bed. The long shadow of her hip bone made a deep triangle pointing at the glowing fur covering the slit where her womanhood opened. In the depths of her belly, she could still feel the confusion, the frustration of a few minutes ago, when her body, the anxious crimson lips, and the skin that was meant to be stretched around a hot, surging cock, thought that relief had finally come, and then it didn't.
He said he would call after the speech, but she knew he probably wouldn't have time. He hadn't actually proposed to her by saying "Would you be a President's wife?" But she was beginning to think that's all she meant to him. She, with her beauty and her family, was just a part of his campaign.
She loved him though, and shook her sad face to clear away such thoughts, making her breasts wiggle back and forth on her chest, and shaking the bed so that it rocked her slightly. He looked like a politician, with his square, strong jaw, his quick eyes and ready smile. They said his broad chest inspired confidence in people, and his grace of movement, so rare in anyone but an athlete or a dancer. Yes, he was the perfect public man; she knew that.
But he was also a private man. That chest was also good for laying her head on, or squeezing her round soft breasts against to feel the hardness of the nipples when they had been stroked and kissed and licked until they stood up like little brown towers on the top of their fleshy hills. And his powerful arms with their clever hands, and his tongue, they were all useful for something besides looking at.
Drifting into a light doze, Becky let the memories of her times with her loving husband fill her mind. Her naked, exposed body, lying lonely and available on the bed twitched at times, and her breath caught as she remembered.
Congress had recessed the day before, and they flew home that night. All their first day home, Derek had been out talking to people, and didn't get back until about ten.
"I'm going to run for the Senate," he announced. He was a little tipsy and very proud.
Becky didn't say anything, just put her magazine down and rose to a sitting position on the couch. Even though she was wearing a rather bulky sweater, and her legs were covered by her slacks, Derek didn't miss the bulges of her breasts, or the curve of her hips as she moved. He knew what was under those clothes, and he knew what he wanted to do about it.
"I'm not too sure how happy that makes me," she said in her sweet Southern drawl, which could be so seductive at times, even when she didn't mean it to be. "We don't seem to have much private life even now. And if you have to run a state-wide campaign, and then when you're a Senator, I'm afraid we'll have even less."
She saw him looking at her breasts, and saw his eye fall to where her stomach and her legs met in the shadow of her crotch.
"Would you like something to eat?" she stammered.
"I'd like to eat something," he leered at her. "But I don't need any food."
"Derek," she said firmly. "We have to talk about this. You know I miss you when you're campaigning all the time."
"Come with me then," he answered, sitting down next to her and placing a hand on her thigh.
Becky took his hand in hers to hold it in place. She could sense how easy it would be for her to give in. Just the touch of his hand had started her blood running faster, and already she could feel a tingle deep inside her, down between her pelvic bones. "I don't like public appearances; I told you when we got married that I wouldn't campaign with you. I just hate people staring at me, especially staring at us, and thinking things about us that are nobody's business but ours."
Derek laughed. "That's one of the best parts. You'll get used to it." Despite Becky's grip, he began moving his hand up and down on her leg, and slid it inside, where he knew her most tender skin was.
"But I just feel so naked." She could feel little thrills, like electric shocks, shooting up her spine from her now tense ass, to the base of her neck. She had to force her breathing to remain slow and regular, and tried not to pay any attention to the itch she could feel building up in her loins.
"What do you suppose they are thinking about us?" Derek could feel her muscles tighten under his hand, and the feel of it made his cock stir in his pants, as though it were just waking up. Becky shrugged at the question, and he watched her every move intently. Her breasts rose even higher for an instant, then jiggled when she let her shoulders drop. "I bet they think we do this." Suddenly, he leaned over and planted his mouth on hers, and at the same time, moved his hand quickly up to her crotch and pressed his fingers into the tantalizing softness just under the thin material.
She tried to protest, but he held his mouth tightly against hers, and as soon as she parted her lips, he thrust his hot tongue between them. Just for a second, she relaxed in the bliss of his tongue inside her, and began sucking it, pulling it in as far as it could go, feeling the rough surface rasp against the roof of her mouth, and the slimy bottom slide against her own tongue. But then she remembered, and tried to expel the invading member from her mouth. But his tongue was stronger than hers.
Just then, for the first time, another sensation hit her like the blast from a furnace opening: someone was stroking her nether fires, and what had been a little itch she could almost ignore, was now a fierce burning radiating throughout her body from her swelling cunt where Derek's fingers were probing. But this wasn't a fire that wetness could extinguish, because she could feel the wetness there already. It seemed to be flowing down from inside her towards the insistent stroking, as a dog might come when its master beckoned.
With a supreme effort, Becky twisted her face away from Derek's, and tried to push away his hand, which was now caressing her all the way from the mound of her cunt to where her pants were bunched up between the tight globes of her ass. But it felt so good, that she had instinctively brought her thighs together over his hand, and so the strength of her reflexes as well as the strength of his arm, fought against her.
"Derek," she tried not to gasp, but to pretend she was perfectly calm. "I don't want to..." she paused to think of the coldest way to say it. "I don't want to have sex with you right now."
"All right then," he said in his most diplomatic voice. "In that case, let's just fuck."
Now she gasped, supposedly at his indecent language, but then she felt out of breath and had to inhale deeply a couple of times before she answered. Her face, her ears, and her breasts were beginning to feel warm, and her whole body seemed just about to start trembling. "Don't make a scene, Derek!" she warned.
"No scene," he replied, pushing against her warm, pliant cunt even harder. He could feel her body loosening up under his stimulation. He could also feel his cock pulsing, and with each heart-beat growing larger and harder, and quickly using up any extra space in his shorts. "If I had wanted a scene," he told her, "I would have brought some people over to watch."
With his other hand, he wormed under the back of her sweater and moved his eager palm up her smooth, long side, feeling the ridges of her ribs rise and fall under his rough palm. Suddenly she squirmed and twisted like a fish on a hook, kicked his arm from between her yielding thighs, and scooted herself up over the back of the couch.
But Derek had grabbed hold of a handful of her sweater, so when she went over the top, his grip forced her to spin lengthwise, and land on the floor feet first. It also pulled her sweater off. The stretchy garment was bunched up around her wrists, which Derek held tight against the back of the couch.
"Well, well," he said. "I wonder what I've caught here. Maybe it's something good to eat, something that would taste good hot and soupy."
"Let go of me!" she said, almost sobbing. She was sitting with her hands held above her head, and she couldn't move.
"I think I'll just lean over and take a peek," he said. She was completely helpless. She tried to get her feet under her so she could stand up, but she couldn't do it, and had to sit there while he looked down at her.
Her fine, light hair was strewn all over her shoulders. Derek reached down with his free hand and lifted it away to give him a clear view of her bra, with the breasts pressed inside the large cups, seemingly about to burst. He let his hand linger there, tracing the edge of the bra, and jamming his finger under the straps. But her back was to the couch, and he had no way to unhook it without letting her go.
Without meaning to, Becky drew her thighs together convulsively and rubbed them against each other. The swelling in her crotch had grown larger, so that the tightening of her legs squeezed the engorged lips and pumped dribbles of thick liquid out into her panties. She could feel a craving to be touched inside her, deep in her vagina.
After feeling the voluptuous softness of her imprisoned breast, pushing it down and feeling it spring back up under his hand, and feeling around with his fingernail until he found the knob of the tender nipple, hard and erect against the stiff, scratchy material, he pulled the sweater off over her hands and set her free.
"Dearest, you know I wouldn't ever force you to do something you don't want to do," he said in his most gentle voice.
Becky was too flustered with conflicting feelings to be angry. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but the thought of his strong arms around her was attractive. She stood up and faced him over the back of the couch. "Of course I know that." She melted into his embrace. "I love you so much." She was unconsciously leaning against the couch, so that the velvet-covered wood frame was pushing against her cunt, which by now seemed to have acquired a hunger of its own, no matter what she thought about it. The tingles rushing up and down her bare back distracted her from other activity going on there until suddenly she felt her bra slacken, and a rush of blood flowed into the released globes. She moaned slightly with relief. Before she knew what was happening, Derek had them in his hands, kneading the magnificent, throbbing whiteness with his moist palms, and pinching the pebble-like tits and the brown halo around them between his thumb and fingers, not so hard that it was painful, but hard enough to make her undulate involuntarily from pleasure, the pressure and vigor of the couch against her now hot and soaking cunt increasing with her movements, he let the useless, limp bra fall off her arms and roll and slide down Derek's back.
But her will was stubborn, and asserted itself before she had completely surrendered to her fiery desire. She staggered back a step, and then two. "No, Derek," she panted. "Not now. I don't want to." She was out of breath, and her legs were quivering beneath her so that she wasn't sure how long she could stand up.
"Don't want to what?" Derek asked, coming around the couch. He was having trouble walking too, for the tightness in his crotch had become an ache throbbing throughout the length of his eager cock. "Don't want to what?" he insisted, putting his hands on her trembling shoulders and staring at her high, firm breasts quivering with the vibrations.
"I don't want to ... fuck!" she blurted out in desperation. The sound of her voice making the obscene word broke all resistance remaining in her. "All right! All right!" she cried, putting her arms around his neck and pressing her aching tits into his wool suit coat. "Let's go to bed."
"No," he said breathlessly, reaching down long enough to unsnap his pants and give his cock a little more room. "No, not in bed, right here."
Becky was shocked. The thought of sex anywhere but in bed, in a bedroom carefully shut off from the rest of the house, was unthinkable. It was almost perverse. Once again she jerked back away from him as though he had recommended sodomy or whoring to her. But he had also unfastened her pants, and when her luscious, undulating body lost contact with his hard, firm eagerness, the pants slipped down, the silky fabric sliding quickly along the smooth, white curves of her legs to her ankles. The first step she tried to take, she fell, without hurting herself, flat on her back, her loose breasts flying in circles before settling back to their exquisite shape atop the plain of her chest, sloping down to her flat, narrow stomach, which in turn widened into her hips, the smooth, white skin visible down to the elastic band of her white panties.
It was nearly more than Derek could stand to see his beautiful, sensuous wife lying on the carpet in front of him, wearing nothing but her panties. Half trying to get up, half just responding to the glowing insistence of her now-pleading cunt, she lay writhing on her back, her delicate skin grinding against the rough carpet, her knees up, alternately opening and closing to the rhythm of her convolutions. "No, no, not here," she said weakly.
But Derek had already dropped to his hands, hovering over her accessible glory, whipping up the cream of her belly and her naked breast with his strong hand and his quick tongue. He felt as though his clamoring prick was on fire, as though the white-hot tip of it would soon burn its way out of his pants to find its goal.
He slipped his hand under the elastic of her panties and probed beneath the fine, soaked pubic hair to her fat, slippery lips. At his touch, Becky lost all desire for anything but to have his thick, hard cock in her cunt, to have it stretch her as far as it would go, to be filled with his driving ramrod manhood. She crossed her legs, catching his groping hand between her sweating ivory thighs, and raised her head to look at him through glazed, wild eyes.
With a single, swift jerk, he stripped off her panties and exposed the glistening honey-down triangle of hair, split with the crimson lips of her burning cunt. He was sweating and panting too, still in his suit and tie, though his swollen cock had pushed the zipper of his pants down without his help. He poked two fingers between the bloated rolls of Becky's labia, into the sticky darkness with the walls sucking at his knuckles.
Becky uttered a sharp cry of pleasure at the intrusion of her most private space. She longed for him to touch all of her, every inch of her, inside and out, all at once. Her head rolled back and forth uncontrollably on the carpet, flinging her fine hair from one side to the other like a thousand tiny wisps forming a halo around her head. Her moans got louder as Derek's experienced fingers moved in expanding circles inside of her furnace-like clitoris, that center of her sensual being now extended out of its wrinkled sanctuary to meet the world, it was as though an electric switch had been turned on, and her whole body lit up. Everything that touched her became erotic stimulation: the carpet against her flailing back and contracting buttocks; the silky constraint of her slacks still tangled around her feet and ankles; the elastic of her panties, cutting into the soft, white flesh just above her knees. All that, as well as Derek's fingers pinching and rubbing her aching, stiff nipples, his tongue and teeth on her heaving belly, and his fingers inside her, sliding around and around until the walls of her cunt seemed to glow with excitement. It all added to her lust, which tortured her for release for fulfillment. And still, Derek's thumb scraping against the horny nub of her clitoris was like a screaming to her nerves. She couldn't hold still, but flung herself this way and that in her animal frenzy. She tried to call Derek's name, to beg him to put his torch to her raging lust, but the only sounds she could make were whimpering cries.
But Derek knew what they meant, and even if he hadn't known the meaning of the cries, he would have known the meaning of his own flushed face, and the whirring sensation in his loins, and the excruciating agony in his blood-stiff cock willing to break in half rather than give up its quest for freedom. He reached down, unbuckled his belt, and pushed his pants and shorts away.
It sprang out of captivity nearly purple with its raging engorgement, the smooth head shiny with j uice that had prematurely crept out of the gaping slit in the tip, and the shaft, rising up out of its thicket of hair, ribbed with pulsing vessels stretched with the coursing blood inside. It bobbed its joy, but the ache would not allow Derek to forget, if he ever could, that it still had a mission to fulfill.
Becky sensed somehow the new presence. Without bothering to look, she reached down through her spread thighs and grabbed it, moving the loose skin up and down along the length of the rock-hardness underneath. But her intention was to pull it toward her, toward the oozing mouth where her frustration was centered. At the same time, she wormed her legs free of their entanglements, and spread her knees wide so that her sweet red lips all covered with the moisture from her cunt, opened around Derek's fingers, as though it were gulping for air or food.
Derek let her guide it to the opening of her voracious depths, so that the swollen tip rubbed against the soft brown pubic hair, and then the hard point of her clitoris, and then the inviting, red gateway to her vagina. She still couldn't talk, but she pulled and tried to push the throbbing staff into where her unendurable passion wanted it, and with her other hand, she clawed at his buttocks to pull him closer.
Then with a mighty thrust forward of his hips, he plunged the thick length into her waiting cavern. She would have screamed with delight if she had had the breath, as it was, she froze for an instant, so overwhelmed with ecstasy that none of her muscles would work. But that lasted less than a heartbeat, then she pushed against the impaling shaft, forcing it deeper and harder into her stretched cunt.
Back and forth Derek pivoted his powerful hips, his gnarled cock glistening when it emerged like a piece of well-oiled machinery, He could feel it slithering against his wife's cunt walls as he drove it deeper and deeper up into her belly, until she thought she would split in half. But she didn't care; still she pulled him, her fingers gripping the white flesh of his buttocks, spreading them so he could feel cool air on his anus.
She lifted her legs up over his back, their long alabaster curves waving and jerking above him like tentacles. Now with each lunge forward, Derek's loins slapped against the back of her quivering thighs, the teeth of his zipper biting into the tender sensitive flesh. As he looked at her delightful body writhing in pure pleasure under him, her mouth open and emitting short squeals to the rhythm of his thrusts, her eyes glazed with lust, he suddenly knew that he couldn't lose the election, that he could do whatever he set out to do.
Becky was once again under his complete control. She had no thoughts, no feelings, except the savage rapture that her young husband had brought out of her. Her whole being was focused on the repeated plunging of his hot, slick cock into her fiery, clamoring cunt. All her muscles moved according to his violent heaving, and her breath, even her mind felt as though it were immersed in the ocean, and Derek's relentless strokes were like the billowing waves, sweeping her this way and that, wherever they wanted, and now they boiled in a storm that ravaged her tiny, helpless body with its turbulent rage of passion.
He could feel her creamy, pliant body respond to his every move, and knew that she was completely subject to his will. He felt as though all his swirling, coursing blood was passing through his penis as it delved into her secret, mysterious depths lapping and sucking at his inflamed skin, and then the blood raced back, making room for more, and taking some of her burning, some of her molten ecstasy back to his legs and shoulders, and down to his toes still closed up in his shoes. Deeper and deeper he reached with his turgid cock, mining the sex from her throbbing vagina walls and bringing it to the surface with long strokes, then hammering back for another load, the weighted sacs of his testicles crashing into the taut muscles of her upturned ass.
Suddenly she felt him lower his body onto hers, his strong, broad chest covering her soft, vulnerable flesh. Then his insistent mouth was invading her own gaping, gasping mouth and his hands rubbed harshly along her sides, up to her breasts, where they rolled the liquid-like mounds in frantic circles, and squeezed the erect brown nipples until they felt like pure flame dancing on her chest. His whole body slid against hers with each thrust of his cock, the buttons and rough wool of his coat rasping her white skin, soaking up the layer of lubricating sweat that had gathered there. She felt as though his cock was reaching up inside her clear into her belly, and she felt sandwiched between him, surrounded by him, and completely dominated.
She thought all at once of the politician Derek was, thought of him standing in front of a crowd of people, and all of them watching him, and how this was the same man now filling her with his scalding turgid manhood, and covering her. Then, through the fire of her lust and the convulsions of their rapid, wild movements together, she began to see, began to feel, something else coming from beyond, like a brilliant light shining through, or growing out of the light of the white-flame of her still growing passion.
"Oh Derek! Derek!" she managed to gasp when he had released her mouth for a moment to breathe. But that was all she could get out before his eager mouth clamped down on hers again, and his thick curling tongue snaked down past her teeth and glided along her own tongue, the insides of her cheeks, the roof of her mouth.
But he could feel the change in her, and he increased the tempo of his driving strokes into her hungry cunt. She wrapped her legs around his bare ass, one of her heels sliding in between his buttocks and rubbing against his sensitive anus. With the mindless strength of her excitement, she pulled him with her legs even harder on the downstroke into her. She wanted to feel even more pressure at the dark, far end of her cunt, and even faster friction against the sides as the bulging, vein-ribbed cock slid back and forth against the tender, inflamed walls.
She was starting to come, and was flailing around so violently that Derek couldn't keep his mouth on hers. "Yes, Yes! Yes!" she called in a hoarse whisper. It felt as though all her nerves were slithering out of her arms and legs toward her throbbing, swollen cunt. Faster still Derek pumped into her, and her orgasm was getting closer and closer until it engulfed her like a blinding flash and a ringing crash. The sound she heard was her own animal scream of release, of unbound ecstasy escaping from every cell of her hot, straining body. She felt a jolt like an electric shock pass through her, then another and another. She heaved her fiery loins upward, pushing against Derek's weight and the downward thrust, forcing his merciful, stabbing sword of flesh deeper into her jittering, uncontrollable body. She lifted them both off the floor with her convulsive swells against him, and when they hit the floor again, his hard cock penetrated farther still until it pushed against the stretched end of her clamoring passage.
Then everything whirled before her, and she clutched at Derek's shoulders to keep from falling into some unseen abyss. He was the only safe, sure thing in the whole universe.
Becky's climax had ignited Derek's lust to a higher intensity as he felt her turn to liquid beneath him, and felt the fresh hot juices surge around his driving, stiff cock like a thousand tongues lapping at the skin. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, and she inhaled in sharp gasps, but her hips kept gyrating as though with a will of their own, answering his long, fast strokes into the pocket of flesh that had become her heaven.
Now he could feel rasping, a vibration behind the base of his penis, as though forces were gathering for a charge. The skin on his face grew tight and flush, and the violent heaving of his hips accelerated on their own, faster than he could have moved them. And he could feel it coming. He could feel the pressure mounting, and the burning trail winding through him, heading for the point of escape, for the pinnacle of sensation at the tip of his cock where the blunt head made its way back and forth in its dark journey to ecstasy.
Then he came. His back arched and his hips bucked as the molten white syrup surged through the rigid hose of his cock. Becky half rose to a sitting position at the new power of his sundering thrust into her glowing cunt. He could feel it spew into her, filling the already filled cunt beyond its capacity, so that it oozed out around his pumping shaft. Twice. Three time! Over and over he squirted his juice into her, shuddering and bucking while she rotated her vagina around his cock and pressed harder against him.
He was empty. All his muscles went slack, and he felt as though his arms and legs were hollow. Becky subsided back onto the floor with a moan of total satisfaction, total fulfillment, and he followed her down, resting his exhausted head on the cushion of her breasts, the still-hard nipples like pebbles against his cheek. And she stuck her fingers into his sweat-soaked hair while they lay together catching their breath and feeling the soothing friction of his penis shrinking back to its carrying size, the circular wrinkles folding and folding it back into itself until next time.
Becky half woke, lying alone and naked on her bed. Her exposed, cream-colored body was slick with sweat, and her muscles seemed tired and aching. She thought for a moment that she still had her hand in Derek's wet hair, but then she woke up enough to realize that her hand was in her own wet hair, cupped over the soaking tuft of her pubic hair over her hot, slippery cunt with its lips swollen and tingling.
"Undignified," she mumbled, and quickly moved her hand away from herself. But she felt much better, and fell into a deep and satisfied sleep.
The next afternoon, the doorbell rang, and she answered it to find a small, greasy-looking man dressed in a vulgarly flashy coat. Before he said anything at all, he leered lewdly at her high, large breasts, and sized up the curves on her hips and legs with obvious and obscene relish.
"Yes, what do you want?" She said with her distaste not disguised. There was something about this ugly, leering creature that frightened her, put her on her guard. Just the arrogance he showed, thinking he didn't even have to pretend to be polite.
"Simmons from the Viewer," he said, without taking his eyes from her lush, young body. "Came to interview ya."
"I don't give interviews, and certainly not without making arrangements beforehand," she said in her haughtiest, aristocratic voice.
"I just want to ask you a few questions, maybe take a few pictures. A sexy girl like you always-likes a little exposure, even if she is a famous politician's wife." He sure would like to take a look at those big, firm tits on her, he thought, and get his hands on them too. To say nothing of getting between those lovely, slender thighs. "Let's go inside where we can talk." He started through the door, but Becky stopped him with a forceful hand in front of him. For a moment, he considered pushing past her-he could do it easy-but he remembered that he was supposed to get a story from her, not rape her in her own living room.
"What do you want to know?" Becky asked. She didn't know enough about the political situation to know that the Viewer was already opposed to her husband, and nothing she could say would change that. So she thought she should at least answer a question or two.
"Well," Simmons replied. "Is Kohn going to get the support of Anthony Fischer? And if so, what will he have to promise him?"
"I don't know that," she said, angry at the implication of her husband's ethics being slack. "Why don't you ask at Derek's headquarters?"
"Yeah, I'll do that." The leering reporter still caressed her stunningly seductive body with his squinting, beady eyes. "Why aren't you with your loving husband? Staying home to see your lover?"
Becky pursed her thick, full lips and glared at the obnoxious man. She would have been even angrier if she had seen the bulge at the crotch of his pants. She started to turn away and close the door.
"Come on, baby," Simmons said in his lewdest whine. "I've covered a lot of campaigns, and I know about candidates' wives who stay home. I'll bet you haven't had a good fuck in weeks, have you?"
The beautiful Virginia woman was shocked at his obscenity, and for a second, could neither move nor say anything.
"I can help you out honey," he smiled and tried to look appealing, something it would take more than a smile to accomplish. "I'll bet you'd just love the feel of my hands on your big tits, there, wouldn't ya?" He reached out, but she backed away. "And I'm sure you've got a nice hot pussy when it's treated right. Well, I've got a cock that'll just fit it, sweetie. I can light you up like a roman candle; I'll suck your pretty little cunt until you go through the ceiling. Just let me in and I'll show you." He swaggered a step forward and wiggled his bony hips at her. "I brought it with me just in case."
"You get away from here, you vile, disgusting creature," she said. "Before I call the police, and then a lawyer to sue both you and your paper." Her eyes were hard with hatred and disgust; the thought of sex with him made her stomach turn. "Go on! Get away, and don't you come back here again!"
"All right," he flinched back from her aristocratic wrath. "But you'll see me again, you little piece of tight ass. I'll get your sweet thighs open one of these days. I'll make you beg for my cock in your cunt." He walked down toward the street, but paused to call back. "You just wait, you arrogant bitch; you just wait and see how fucking superior you are when that time comes."
Only her good breeding kept Becky from slamming the door. She closed it gently and stood absolutely still for a moment, amazed that people like that actually existed, and wondering how anyone could ever stand to touch them, or be touched by them. She shivered, and went back to her chores, thinking instead of making love with her loving, handsome Derek.