Chapter 1
Linda MacDonald missed the passion of her marriage, but little else: Her husband, Rod, had filled her body with pleasures she could almost taste, but she had had to pay with his lies, dishonesty and deception.
The final blow had come when she'd caught him in bed with two girls young enough to be his daughters. Blinded by rage and humiliation, she had somehow found the courage to end the marriage.
Mark Witherspoon, who lay beside her now, was nothing like Rod. Where Rod was handsome and athletic, Mark was plain and studious. He taught history at the same high school where she taught French. For Mark, sex was a necessity-like going to the bathroom or shaving-devoid of any real pleasure.
Still, she was comfortable for the first time in her life. At thirty-two, security and comfort seemed a lot more important than a frenzied roll in the hay.
Except at times like tonight. She missed rough hands on her naked body, the feel of sucking tips on her tits, the enormous pressure of ten inches of rock-hard cock.
Mark had done his duty, had kissed her on the mouth, had fucked his cock inside her. Satisfied, he was discussing the Watergate scandal, his left hand chastely placed on her thigh.
Linda closed her eyes and listened to him drone on, not caring what happened years ago. She had a yearning in her cunt that had to be satisfied now.
"Let's fuck again, Mark," she said, turning - to face him. She reached under the sheets and grasped his limp `cock. "I ... I just want to fuck all night."
"But we just had it," Mark said, giving her a shocked loot. "Not five minutes ago."
Time was when Linda lay beneath a huge, hulking frame for hours, until her pussy was fucked to a pulp. Rod might have been a total asshole, but he could fuck like a mink. Sometimes he even hurt her with the intensity of his passion. She would often wake up in the morning, bruised and sore, and each time she took a step, her pussy would throb violently.
"Because you're so fucking beautiful," he would say later if she complained. "I just want to fuck you to pieces and gobble you down, baby."
She would look into the mirror, trying to see what Rod had seen that made his fucking so intense.
Like this ugly duckling, Linda had been rather plain as a teenager, but, as she'd filled out, even she had to admit she was pretty.
Fortunately, time hadn't done anything to her hair, which was red-gold, the color of ripe peaches, and her eyes were bluer than any sky, large and expressive. Skinny legs had given way to delicate curves, her hips had blossomed round and firm. Although her tits weren't large, they were well-shaped, and her tiny, rose-colored nipples pointed upward as if held by invisible wires.
Rod would lock his hungry mouth around her tits and chew on them like a starving baby. And while, his tongue lapped like a slick exploring snake, his ten inches of iron-like prick would fuck her pussy unmercifully.
"Sure, if that's what you want*" Mark said, interrupting her thoughts.
"Oh, lets do it differently," Linda said, pushing him away. She'd grown weary of his crawling between her legs, giving a few quick, rabbit-like fucks, then going limp. "Something ... exciting." She felt her pussy rumble with growing pleasure.
"I'm a forty-three-year-old history teacher," Mark said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "excitement isn't exactly my field."
Although feeling somewhat spurned, Linda couldn't deny the itch in her cunt or the twitching in the back of her throat. She wanted a thick grinding cock inside her, pumping in steamy wads of cum.
"Well, let's broaden your horizons," she whispered, pushing him to his back and straddling his middle. "I'll give you a historymaking fuck."
Mark hated it when she talked like this, it was so ... dirty. Hardly the way a-wife of a history teacher would express herself. And lately he'd been having second thoughts about asking her to marry him at all. She seemed so hungry, so intense. It was almost like being around an overactive child sometimes.
Still, he liked the way other men looked at her. She was, he had to admit, a prize. And usually women didn't go for him, except for intellectual stimulation. This business of fucking like cats on a fence was a wholly different matter.
"Fuck it to me," Linda said, squeezing her fingers between her legs and rubbing his halfhard cock over her mound of glistening cunt. "Mmmmm, I want a big, hard prick fucking my cunt to pieces."
Mark looked at her swollen, upturned tits and felt his reserve melt. That was another thing. She brought out emotions in him he couldn't understand or perhaps had forgotten. And, when she was this way, he felt like a ninety-year-old man trying to play a quick set of tennis with a youngster. He just wasn't up to it physically, and that made him feel guilty.
His cock throbbed to life, pulsated against the slick, sensuous opening of her pussy. Then he felt his balls twitch, a new cum-load building.
"Bite my tits and fuck me," Linda said, leaning slightly forward. She squirmed over his middle, sucked his cockhead into her cunt. "Ohhhh ... yes ... stick it all the way in . . . suck my tits . . "
When Mark felt the silky texture of her tits against his lips, he opened his mouth and sucked her small rubbery nipple over his tongue. His cock was in a tightly constricted tube of cunt flesh, warm and wet. His dark-brown crotch hairs and her patch of silky, red-gold hair became meshed.
"Oh, your ... uh, vagina is so nice," he murmured.
Vaginal Christ, Linda thought, must he always be so academic? It was like he was talking about a vacuum cleaner or something.
"My ... cunt," she said rather pointedly. "Fuck my cunt, you bastard."
A few seconds later, she didn't care what words he used. It felt so good to have a hard piece of cock fucking away at her cunt. And if she closed her eyes, she could almost see Rod's prick. His cock had been so thick and juicy, filled every tiny space in her pussy.
"Bite on my tits ... make it hurt," she said, squirming her upper body over his chest and face. "Chew . . . and fuck me hard, Mark..."
Mark lifted his hips and fucked his cock fully into her pussy. At the same time, he bared his teeth and scraped them over her throbbing, rock-hard nipples.
"Like this?" he asked, his voice. a gurgling smack.
"No . . . harder," Linda begged. Her insides were a cauldron, her teeth were on edge. "Take me . . . you bastard ... screw me and fuck me and ... and . . ."
She thought of one time when Rod had come home drunk. He'd thrown her onto the bed and crushed his full weight over her body. He'd yanked her arms out and held them tightly. His cock had become an instrument of torture, searing into her pussy like a hot poker. She had hated it and loved it at the same time, and when she'd climaxed, her orgasm was earthshaking.
"Fuckkkk!" Linda shrieked, her face turning ashen with ecstasy. She began bouncing around, slapping her body down wildly, sucking his throbbing prick deeply into her spasming cunt. "Godddddd . . . yes . . . yes ... yessssssss! "
The force of her orgasm was like a magnet for Mark's cum-load. Almost before he- knew what was happening, he was boiling inside her pussy. His climax was so powerful, so intense, it almost hurt.
"Ouch ... God, Linda," he gasped, spitting her tit from his mouth and embracing her tightly. "I . . . I'm there ... now ... now .. now..."
When Linda felt his creamy jism soak into her cunt, her orgasm reached new heights. She froze for a second, enjoying the waves of release, then fell forward and squirmed over his body as if trying to crawl inside him.
"Unhhhh," she groaned, kissing the side of his neck, then going limp.
Although she was satisfied, that itch in her cunt was still there, haunting, teasing her mind. Perhaps the memory of Rod would always be with her, no matter what.
She felt suddenly guilty, as if she'd used Mark for her own sick fantasies. It wasn't fair to either one of them. She pulled away from his body and reached for a cigarette.
"Well, you certainly are a different person in bed than you are at school," Mark said, forcing a smile. Jesus, what an understatement! "I mean, 1 never realized when I met you that ... well, you know what I mean."
Linda knew exactly what he meant. When she'd first met him, she had been shy, withdrawn. Christ, after her torrid marriage to Rod she was lucky to be alive.
A cocktease in reverse, she thought, then giggled.
That's what Mark wanted-a nice fire, his fucking pipe and slippers and to discuss history while she served him cookies and milk. To grow old together, take uneventful trips to Vicksburg or the excavations at Kush, to revel in past glory, while the future passed them by. Fuck!
Mark watched her smoke--he hated that filthy habit--wondering what she wanted from him. To strip off their clothes and fuck like monkeys all the time? God, you'd think that a woman who had a master's degree in modern languages would think of something besides ... well, that.
He felt a little cheated. When he'd seen her, her hair was pulled back in a bun, her large, black-rimmed glasses had hidden that smoldering sensuality. Her plain sensible dress had covered those almost sinful angles.
The more I let myself go, Linda thought, the tighter he gets. I started wearing my hair down, stopped dressing like a dowdy housewife, and threw those horrible glasses away. The students had taken note, but Mark had seemed almost angered.
It just isn't going to work, they both thought. But, how to let the other person down gently?
"Maybe we should ... uh, back off for a while," Mark said. "I think we might be getting too close, uh, too soon."
He waited for tears, perhaps even screams. Lately, she was so unpredictable.
Linda was stunned, happily so. He was usually so predictable. Her mouth dropped down in surprise.
"No, no, I'm sorry," Mark said quickly, misreading her expression, "1 don't know why I said it. We'll get married and-"
"Perhaps you're right," Linda offered, repressing the urge to jump out of bed and kick her heels. "We are getting too close, uh, too soon."
Whew, they both said silently, relieved. "I'll see you at school tomorrow," Mark said, getting out of bed and reaching for his trousers.
"Yeah, tomorrow," Linda said.
She watched him dress, then smiled when he made for the door. They nodded like people saying goodbye after a long tour, rather than two people who had, just a few minutes before, been fucking.
Alone, Linda felt depressed. When she'd kicked Rod out, there had been bitter tears, anger, frustration. With Mark gone, she felt empty.
"Well, shit," she said, getting off the bed. She padded into the living room and opened the liquor cabinet. Unceremoniously, she picked up a bottle of bourbon, removed the cap and took a long gulp.
"I am depraved," she said aloud, barely able to breathe through the fire that swept down her throat. "Next, I'll be seducing young boys or something."
She took another drink, then returned the bottle to the shelf. The alcohol hit her rather quickly, causing her to flush with warmth. She felt a little giddy.
"Is it so wrong to want a man to want me?" she asked herself, walking back to the bedroom. "To want me and only me?"
She crawled onto the bed and lay back on the pillows. The bourbon had now warmed her completely, and she felt her pussy twitch, the old itch returning.
The itch for a big fucking cock.
She slipped her fingers into her red-gold patch of cunt hair and scraped her nails over her tender, cum-splattered membranes. The itch got worse. Slowly, she thrust two fingers inside her puckered cunt hole and flinched:
"Fuck me," she gasped, closing her eyes, pretending her fingers were a juicy, cum-filled cock. "Ohhhh ... yes, ram it in and blow my pussy apart with hot . . . creamy cum . . ."
She began pumping her hips up and down a little more quickly, and each time her ass left the bed, she jabbed her fingers farther inside her pussy.
There must be plenty of men out there, she thought. Men who would jump at the chance to fuck me. But she was an upstanding member of the community, a teacher, responsible for molding young minds; she just couldn't invite men in to fuck her.
That was sick.
A sweet swelling at the back of her cunt made her forget everything suddenly. Nothing mattered but the ache, the pressure, the delicious spasms around her probing fingers. "I . . . I want it hard ... rock-hard," she panted, her eyes opening. Her fingers just couldn't do the job. If she couldn't have a cook; at least something like a cock. She shot a hunted look about the 'room. "Ohhhhhh ... hard and big!" She looked atone of a pair of candles that stood on either side of the-dresser.
She bounded off the bed and took the yellow taper in her right hand. Slowly, she dropped to her knees and held the candle at an angle, much like a cock would be if a man were standing before her: She closed her eyes again and sucked the wick end over her lapping tongue.
"Ohhhh ... love your cock," she gasped, thrusting about half of the candle inside her throat.
While she sucked and chewed on the taper, making her teeth waxy, she rubbed her knees together. A delicate throbbing soon turned into a spasming demand. She quickly spit the candle out and thrust the end of it between her thighs. .
"Unhhhhhh!" she yelled, forcing as much inside as she could. She twisted the taper around, began to jab and punch, letting the wick end gouge over the itch. She gave another gasping groan as her climax tore forward, rippling her pussy.
When her ecstasy had built dramatically, then burst, she fell back and writhed on the floor. She kept fucking the candle in and out of her pussy, trying to recreate the same sensations.
A candle, like her fingers, just wasn't a cock.
A few moments later, she crawled to the bed and slipped under the sheets. With the candle still inside her wet, steaming cunt, she rolled her stomach and began humping up and down "Fuck me ... God, fuck me," she pant burying her face in the pillows. "That's it all the way in, you bastard ... screw apart!"
She could almost see it. A large, swollen prick fucking in and out, sliding through the rim of puckered muscle. The massive cock head would be pulsating, ready to spill a thick lump of acid-like cum.
"Faster . . . harder," she moaned, clawing at the sheets, wishing they were muscle shoulders. "Give . . . give it to me ... fuck kkkkkkkkkk!"
An explosion of raw pleasure riddled her guts, almost causing the candle to be sucked completely inside. She squirmed her around, threw her head up, and bit her lower lip until she tasted the salty flavor of blood.
That was almost it, she thought. Almost she had come so close to stopping that itch Almost.
As she lay, there, gasping into the pillow, she felt the gnawing hunger return.
If I don't get a man-a real man-soon, I am going to go over the deep end, she thought God, fucking a candle!
And in a way she felt cheated. Those girls in her class didn't know how lucky they had of the boys would gladly scratch that itch.
At thirty-two, she just didn't have that many opportunities. Who did she meet? Rusty dusty history teachers, a math teacher who was probably queer, and a fat principal who probably hadn't seen his cock in years under all that blubber.
God, to be young again, she thought. Those kids are probably out there, this very minute, fucking like savages.
Cock fucking into pussy, loading cunt up with creamy cum. Hard muscles surrounding soft bodies, steamy windows, squeaking back seats.
While she lay here with a candle up her cunt! It just wasn't fair. Not fair at all.
She would simply have to find a man to satisfy her urges. Someone just a little older than herself, who would give her security and comfort.
And a big cock every night.