Hurry Up and Wait

I’m supposed to be working right now, but my mind was wandering to sexy things, so instead I wrote this fun little (sort of true) story to spice up your Friday…

My husband suggested the game.

“Every day this week I’m going to eat you out and make you come, and I won’t even take my pants off.”

“And what do you get out of it?” I said.

“The excitement of licking your pussy,” he said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“Don’t you want to come, too?”

“Friday. On Friday you return the favor.”

As always, I’m down for his little games.

Monday.

“Pants off, girlie.”

Bottomless and spread on the bed, writhing as his tongue bathes my folds. I come, pulsing with a desire to be filled.

“Fuck me,” I say.

“No,” he says.

Tuesday.

Leaning against the wall, legs spread, my man kneeling between. I can see straight out the front window and wonder if anyone can see me. Gushing on his face, I come with an earthquake that almost knocks me down. My man wipes his mouth.

“Good?” he says.

“So good.”

I grab his cock through his jeans. He moans. Damn, he’s so fucking hard.

“Fuck me,” I say.

He pulls away. He almost looks scared of me. “No,” he says.

Wednesday.

Crouched over his face on the floor in my office. He’s lapping eagerly at my cunt. I’m brimming, swelling, welling onto him. I want so badly to be filled.

“Fuck my face,” he says.

I do it. I grind down on him. He groans like an animal. He gasps. His tongue, his face, his scruff are electric friction. I cry out, shuddering. My cunt clenches almost painfully. I want a cock inside. His cock, or any cock. Frankly, at that moment I don’t care. I buckle, ease out the last drops of my orgasm’s strength on top of him.

Again I go for his crotch, working his button and zipper. I get him out. He’s erect like he’s twenty again: so hard, veins, stiff as nails. He moans like I’m killing him as my cold hand grabs his shaft. He’s wet. So wet for me. I ache to feel that stiffness inside my cunt.

“No,” he says. “Molly, no.”

I can tell his resolve is failing. I could fuck him right now and he wouldn’t resist.

“You have to stop,” he says reluctantly.

I sigh. “Your loss,” I say.

Thursday.

I’m spread-eagled in my reading chair. I have no pants on but a towel is under my hips. My man is suckling at my pussy like it’s the most wonderful dish he’s ever imagined. Meanwhile, I’m reading a book of erotica out loud, the words catching in my throat as I get close. I keep reading, gasping and heaving, until his tongue drives me over the edge. I come, wet and wonderful, my hips bucking against his lips until I can’t breathe. It’s too much, my clit is on fire.

I drop the book as he lazily brings me down with swirls of his tongue.

Friday.

“Your turn,” he says.

I kneel and unzip him. He springs forth, his cock mighty and bold. He’s ready. Beyond ready.

His tip: salty and slick. I take him deeply, as deep as I can. He holds onto my head, caressing me as I give him the pleasure he’s wanted all week. I admire his strength. I would have fucked him every day, but he wanted to wait. I can feel his urgency immediately. He presses forward, driving his head toward my throat. I open, letting him have me. I relax, knowing that he’s been waiting.

He’s so aroused that he’s unbelievably wet. My tongue is slick with his soapy taste. Mere minutes in I can tell he’s on the verge. I want him to cum. It turns me on like crazy. I also want him inside my pussy, but I figure that can wait, just as he’s waited. I give him everything I can afford to give: let him plumb my mouth, scrub my tongue, pleasure himself on my lips. I grab his ass. He’s trembling, stiff. So close.

Come, I think. Come, baby.

He moans. Here it is. I get ready, breathing deep. My heart races. Any second I’ll feel a spurt of his warmth on my tongue, dashing against my throat. He moans again. Here is comes… I’m ready.

Suddenly he pulls out. His cock is so fucking hard it looks painful. I moan.

“Come back,” I say, licking his syrup from my lips.

My man looks at me like he’s never going to see me again. He hesistates, cock bouncing with his pulse. With a groan he pulls his pants up and tucks himself away behind his zipper. The front of his jeans are bulging.

“What are you doing?” I say. My pussy aches. I need his load. I feel empty without giving him a proper finish.

He looks almost dizzy with arousal.

“Just think of how great it will be,” he says. “I think I can hold out another day.”

I remind him that we have guests this weekend.

“Monday then,” he says. “I wonder if I can go another week like this?”

So do I.

Good Game

Since I’m on a bit of a kick of indulging fantasies, I’ve decided to trot out one of my old favorites:

Imagine an entire baseball team all lined up in a row. Baseball players: strong and lean. They’re in line for me. We’re in a wide open place in the middle of the country. A conservative place. Iowa, perhaps. We’re in a baseball diamond lit by stadium lights but all around are cornfields. Pickup trucks line the parking lot. A few lonely souls are in the bleachers to cheer on the home team. The game is over now, so they’re drinking and waiting for the post-game show.

I’m the show they’re all waiting for. The home team has won and I’m the reward. I’m the local beauty, the winner of the local pageant and Miss Sweet Cream Ice Cream Princess.I’m wearing a pale blue dress. I have a purple sash over my shoulder that says “Regents County Fair, Best Pussy 2015”.

I know my duties to the winning team and I’m glad that the opposing team won. It’s a lot more exciting to let the strange men from another white-bread town take a whack at my pussy. The local boys are good, but I longed for some strange, stiff meat that didn’t know my name. After all, I could fuck the men around town any time if I wanted to. Not one of them would stop me from unzipping him, blowing him, riding him until he shot his load up into me with a gasp. So it was nice to have some new bulls to ride me.

There’s a bench in the middle of the baseball diamond. I sit. The wood is cold on my ass. Lean back and part my thighs until I’m spread-eagled in the middle of the baseball diamond. My pussy quivers with heat. I’m begging to be fucked, like a ravenous slut eager for her man meats.

I love sex better than ice cream, or a soothing bath, or the sweet salvation of Jesus. Since the first moment I saw a cock I knew I needed to be filled with them as often as possible. So I was the perfect girl for this job.

Just get the picture in your head: hot, athletic men lined up all in a tidy row, stripping off jerseys to reveal taut abs. Tight baseball pants peeled down, kicked away. Knee-high athletic socks peeled down into a ball and abandoned. Cocks, some long, some thick, some short, all gradually getting harder. Firm calves, powerful thighs, buttocks carved from stone. Erections now stiff with fat heads bulging and dripping at the mere sight of my body. Fucking machines ready to pump my cunt full of their semen.

The hometown team stood off by the fence, a defeated bunch of losers. They watched jealously as the winning team stripped and prepared to fuck me as their prize. The home boys wanted me, too, but they couldn’t have me tonight. I was a special delicacy and you had to earn me. I flashed them a broad smile just to rub it in.

The first player steps up. I’m dripping dew for him. He pressed his purple-pink head, fat and bulbous, between my lips. He presses forward and I feel a ring of flesh opening me, stroking in and out, settling deep. The man groans, finds his rhythm and my hips match his. I catch his eyes, dark and deep. He stares at my jiggling breasts, and then at his erection disappearing into my gushing mystery of velvet folds. I lift my hips to give him all of my sheath, so that he dives deep with each stroke. Thrusts, harder, faster; breath and heart race. He stiffens, and spills, and I moan at his absence as he pulls out. He leaves me yearning, but the next man steps into place, his dark man-flesh stiff and strong. And he impales me with it, I with a moan and he with a shuddering groan as my secret enwraps him.

I glance over at the hometown team. They look so forlorn, watching their County Princess being fucked by strangers. Their pants bulge. It delights me. Maybe they’ll play harder next time to earn a reward in my accommodating cunt.

Man after man the baseball players step between my quivering thighs, penetrating, fucking, cumming. When they pull out they leave a trail of cream dribbling out of me. The cum slicks my cunt for the next man’s cock.

I give myself to them all. Big cocks stretch my pussy. Little cocks tickle my cunt. Some men fuck fast and feverishly, others like the slow dance of a long-time lover. Some like to slap their thick meat on my clit to make me squeal. Some moan, some groan, some grunt. Curved cocks, straight cocks. Each feels different but all feel the same. A bobbing garden of hard pleasure-flesh. I want to milk the joy out of each of those erections, to steal their power for myself.

The ones in line watch me, naked cocks hooked and glistening, eyes glued to my bounding body, ears tuned to my moans. They stroke themselves, keeping those flesh rods stiff and eager to dip into my honey. The men who have already gone gather around my head. I lick their shrinking dicks, sucking the taste of my cunt-juice and the salty goodness of their semen. I smell the funky stank of their balls so close to my face, an unpleasant, tangy smell, but the alchemy of lust makes it like perfume to me. I want to lick the salt right between their legs. I want to taste sweat and cum mingling on my tongue.

“I’m ready to receive you. You’ve earned your reward. Cum inside my cunt,” I whisper to each as my breasts bobble with his strokes. And each man does his best to fill me up with his creamy milk. It leaks out my flaming lips, seasons my sweaty thighs. I’m sloppy with jizz but I want more, more.

“Fuck me like you don’t believe in God,” I hiss.

They grope my breasts, brace my hips, thrust deep and long and strong into me until I’m dripping, arching, screaming. Until my orgasm tears a hole through the fabric of rural boredom. Until my insides are clenching, aching for them to stop, or keep going, I don’t even know anymore. The men keep me cumming until I’m tired, but I’m still not sated. My cunt has left a puddle of cum and lust on the bench, my pussy is full of their slippery spunk. I’ve climaxed more than I can count, but my pussy is still hungry.

“I’m such a slut,” I moan as man after man fucks me ruthlessly — or gently, rhythmically, forcefully. Orgasms flow from between my legs like poetry. I’m trembling, aching; hot, shivery; spread open to receive the gift of their pearls deep in plush, fetid furrows of flesh. Yes, I’m a slut. It’s my true nature, to fuck. I would fuck all day, all night if I could. I would fuck up and down the country roads from Minnesota to Texas, unbuckling the Bible belts and receiving sweaty sermons from their corn-fed meat.

When the men are sated, the coach of the team is last. But he’s not going to fuck me. He kneels down and starts to eat me out. He presses a finger into my asshole up to the knuckle, which is just what I need. He doesn’t care that my pussy is all cummy, his tongue penetrates me, he sucks my folds into his mouth, he flatters me with fast flicks of his tongue-tip on my clitoris. A moment later I’m coming again, a huge orgasm that forces my hips into the air. I let out a guttural moan. When I’ve finished, he slaps my pussy sharply with his palm. My soaking lips make a resounding smack in the night and I scream and writhe as it sends vibrations through my guts.

He pulls out his cock. He’s the biggest of all, but he’s not going to let me have that beautiful cock of his. I beg him for it, but he shakes his head. Instead he stands over me, stroking, his face turning red. At last he cums, splashing his jizz across my belly and breasts in waves. I watch his expression with delight as it twists in pleasure. I arch my back as if trying to catch the falling rain of his semen.

“Good game,” I say to the coach. He gives me a wink and hands me a towel.

Center of the Universe

She was at a party. Music was loud. She was drunk.

She was with a guy. She’d met him fifteen minutes ago. He’d told her his name, but she’d forgotten it. Maybe she didn’t listen. Too drunk to listen. They flirted. She laughed at his jokes. She felt tingly and coy. And impatient.

She didn’t want to play by the rules. Not tonight. Maybe never.

She was wearing a skirt. Short. Cute. Her favorite. He was talking, something about Mexico, she wasn’t really listening. She chewed her bottom lip, feeling urges. She bent, reached under her skirt, and pulled her panties off. She handed them to the guy.

Continue reading “Center of the Universe”

Quick Change

When I was in college I worked in the kitchen for the dining services. They made us wear these cheap, nylon polo shirts. Ugly maroon. They looked good on nobody, boys or girls. Since I took shifts between classes, I always changed in a hurry.

In the back there was a pots and pans room that also had a row of lockers. It wasn’t at all private: there was no door, and people often walked in and out looking for pans. Still, I always just risked it and timed my quick-changes for when I didn’t see anyone coming.

Shwoop! Polo off. Shwoop, t-shirt on. Quick and easy.

One day I didn’t time it quite right. I pulled my polo off and just at that moment a guy walked in. Not just a guy: Nick, a cute guy I had a crush on. I tried to cover up with the polo but fumbled and dropped it.

So there I was in my bra. Blushing like roses. All hot and bothered with embarrassment. And cute Nick couldn’t stop staring at my breasts. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find words.

“Shit, sorry,” I said. Because it somehow seemed like my fault. I covered up with my arms.

“Uh, no, my fault,” Nick said.

He was flustered. He should’ve looked away, to be polite. He was blushing too. But he didn’t look away. He was just as surprised as I was, I guess. I liked that I’d made him blush. No, I loved it. I was hot all over.

“I’ll, um, let you…” Nick took a step backward, but he hesitated in the entryway.

I grinned. The devil got into me.

“Fuck it,” I said.

I reached behind and unhooked my bra, let it slip off my shoulders. Nick stared at my bare breasts, nipples peeking at him. Oh, hell, did the flush hit my cheeks. Because, of course, there was no reason to take my bra off, but for some reason I just wanted him to see my breasts.

His blue eyes widened. I let him stare for what seemed like forever, but was really just a few seconds. I got hotter and hotter, wetter and wetter below. And my nipples were super hard, something that Nick definitely noticed.

I heard footsteps. I grabbed my t-shirt out of the locker and wrenched it on, ending the show just as one of the cooks came looking for a pot. He stopped and glanced at the bra on the floor. He grinned in between Nick and myself and shook his head.

Nick flashed me a smile. The kind that said he might be interested in more. I was too flustered to respond with more than a look, but I noticed the bulge in his jeans. Or at least I imagined it.

Truce

You must’ve realized by now that we can never be friends.

I’m alcohol and you’re a spark. Our conjunction ends in heartbreak and ashes.

Surely you know this already. So why did you ask me to couple?

It makes me laugh to think of it. “Hey, wanna fuck?” you said. Graceless.

Yet here I am on top of you, clothed only by darkness and the stripes of neon light that sneak through your blinds.

Continue reading “Truce”

Erotica: Train

She was on the train, tired after a long day at the office.  She stood near the back of the car, holding onto the metal pole for balance.  Night streamed by outside as the train rattled and shook down the tracks.  She looked pale and worried in her reflection in the window of the car.  The train rumbled into a tunnel, night replaced by darkness and sulfur-yellow lights.

Her straight, dark hair hung to her shoulders.  She wore a suit.  It fit her well.  Her shoulders slumped a bit from the day.  She would be glad to get home and curl up on the couch.  She was so tired.

There was only one person in the back of the car with her, also standing.  There were plenty of spots to sit, but he wasn’t sitting.  He probably wanted to keep on his feet, like she did.  The idea of getting up again after sitting was just too tiring.

The train rumbled out of the tunnel.  Apartment buildings flashed by in the night.  Then the car rocked as it entered another tunnel, tossing her from side to side.  She had to hang on to the pole to keep from losing her balance.  She stumbled backwards on her high heels just enough.  He caught her, stabilized her.  She got a whiff of cologne.  He smelled nice as he always did.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, not looking at him.  She righted herself.  Then she felt his big hand on the small of her back.  It rested lightly, testing her.  She knew it didn’t belong on her.  But she liked the feel of his touch.  She didn’t move, didn’t protest, just waited.

He slid his hand lower, gradually lower, until it was sliding over her slacks, cupping her ass cheek.  She sighed, the caress sending little tingles up her spine.  She knew it was wrong for her to be touched like this, but it felt right.  She leaned back into him a little, just letting him know that she appreciated his touch.  She wondered what he would do next.

His big fingers caressed her butt crack through her pants.  She found it crazy sexy to be felt up like this on a train.  No one else was looking, they were all toward the front of the train, as he pressed his fingers between her butt cheeks through the fabric.  She pushed back.  She liked this.  She felt herself getting wet.

She knew he would go for skin next and he didn’t disappoint.  He found the small of her back and lifted her blouse to trace the tattoo.  She shivered as he touched her.  His fingers were calloused.  They felt a little rough on her soft skin, but it made him seem more real.

He slid a hand down the back of her pants.  It was a tight fit.  She unhooked the front to give him a little more room.

His fingers found the hem of her underwear and dipped inside.  Those big, rough fingers traced the line of her ass.  She gasped as his fingers went almost as far as her wet pussy, then back again.  She heard him sigh as he touched the soft flesh of her ass.  She pushed her butt out so he could find access to her easier.

Still no one in the train was looking.  All they would have seen was her standing with a guy close behind her.  Not a sign on the train.

He traced the length of her ass crack again, his fingertip flirting with her wetness.  Then she felt his middle finger probing between her cheeks.  Oh, god, she thought.  He wants my asshole.  And that thought turned her on so much that she could feel herself flushing with the heat of it.

Sure enough, his big fingertip pressed right against her little asshole.  She wanted to press onto it, wanted the squeeze as it pushed into her.  But she squirmed her hips away, suddenly nerves mixing with excitement.  The hand caressed her ass cheeks again, the slowly slid back to her asshole.  She felt tension and thrill welling up inside, a dirty excitement like she’d almost never felt.  She wanted to bend over, to make it easier for the finger.  It pressed on her asshole.  It felt rough, and she loved that feeling.  She found herself panting, opening.  The finger rubbed her puckered hole, just rubbed it.

God, she wanted to bend right over and let the hand fuck her ass.  To feel the fingers inside of her.  But there she stood, in the back of the train in her business suit with a strange man touching her asshole.  The dull light washed everything out.  The other passengers toward the front of the train looked like zombies, tuned out, uninterested.  There was no romance.  Just the unexpected thrill of forbidden contact.

The train started to slow to a rumbling stop.  As the breaks started to squeal and the momentum made her lean forward, she felt the press of his finger, a pinch, a stretch as he entered her.  She leaned forward with the train, her gentle brown eyes wide, her mouth open in a soundless gasp as he pushed his finger into her ass.  She loved to feel him inside of her, forbidden and yet completely what she desired.  He stroked her insides like a pet with that finger.  As the train halted, the lights flickered.  She felt the finger slip out of her ass, the hand out of the back of her pants.  She felt suddenly alone.

The guy walked by her, the doors opening.  She looked at her pointy shoes, watching his shiny black dress shoes walk past.  She never looked at him in the train, she never wanted to see his face.  She knew that he wore suits, but had no idea his age or name or any of his interests.

All she cared about was that he was interested in touching her asshole.  It was the simplest relationship that she ever had.  It now was her secret fantasy, stoking her desires for everything else.  She would go home, take a shower, fix some dinner, then get naked and spend the rest of her night in bed thinking about having a finger in her ass on the train.  Meanwhile, her own finger would find her pleasure over and over and over again.

It didn’t feel lonely.

She knew he was out there.  They never needed to talk or meet, yet she knew that he would always be there.  Waiting for her in the back of the train.  Wanting her the same way that she wanted him.


Copyright 2012 Sexscribbler | All Rights Reserved

 

Erotica: Seen

A/N: This is a short story I wrote and published in 2012 in the collection Deep Pink: Sexy Short Stories. I hope you enjoy!

Meghan walked downstairs.  She flipped on the light to the basement stairway.  Their basement was small and had a dank smell.  Cracked green tiles on the floor, a washer and dryer.  Boxes stuffed with the things they didn’t use.  She set down the laundry basket on top of the washer and walked into the little side room. It was basically used as a library.  Homemade bookshelves stuffed full of warped paperbacks lined the walls.  She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened.  Damn, the light was out.

She was looking for a cookbook, and she thought she could probably find it without the light on.  It was night, but she opened the blinds to let in the little bit of light from the streetlight.  Otherwise she’d need to go get a flashlight.  Where did they even have a flashlight, she wondered?

Her eyes were drawn to the window of the basement next to them.  There was Jason, their neighbor, sitting in his basement office.  Calling it an office was being too generous:  the room was bare studs and a computer desk and some filing boxes.  Hardly an office.

Jason was a pretty attractive guy.  At least Meghan had always thought so.  She guessed he was about ten years older then her, so maybe in his forties.  He had a full head of brown hair and a nice smile.  He kept himself in shape.  Despite his looks, Jason’s wife had hit the road a few months ago.  He still had the house, and Meghan often thought about him rattling around the place.  He pulled in after work every day but didn’t seem to be out and about very much any more.  He used to drop by on the weekends for a beer with her and Adam.  Not anymore.  Staying home licking his wounds, Meghan thought.

Not tonight, though.  Jason was sitting in front of his computer, fly open, masturbating.  It took Meghan completely off guard to see him like this: dressed for the office but cock in hand.  She was surprised by the wave of desire that hit her gut as she watched him.  She was getting wet, she felt the flush hit her cheeks.

She was fascinated to capture him in this moment of private lust.  Clearly he hadn’t considered that he could be seen.  He was stroking his dick with one hand, kicked back in his office chair, a bottle of lotion on the desk next to him.  Meghan ducked against the window sill just in case he might catch her shadow in the window.  But his eyes were fixated on the computer screen, his face bathed in blue light,  clearly watching porn.  She felt sad for him.  He probably wanted a woman.

Meghan couldn’t look away.  She soaked in the fixation in his eyes, the way he teased his lip, the uneven rhythm of his strokes as he pleasured himself.  She gazed at his cock, his hand slipping smoothly over its length, then he gripped the purple head in his palm and almost kneaded it.  His expression fazed from lazy to almost pained as he watched the screen and jerked himself.  Meghan’s lips parted with his as she observed him.  She leaned closer to the glass.  One hand found the warm crotch of her jeans and squeezed.  Then she popped the button and eased the zipper enough to allow her hand into her pants.  She slipped into her panties, through the fur, her finger seeking the warm, wet folds of flesh.  She let out a slight noise as her finger found her tingling nub.  She was wet already from watching Jason.

She slid her fingers between her slick lips, penetrating herself with her middle finger, pushing her hips out and back to find just the right pressure for her clitoris.  She rubbed herself lightly but so fast, eyes glued to Jason’s cock, her clitoris tingling and aching.  She could feel her pulse between her legs.  Her breath quickened.

Jason had settled into a steady rhythm.  He leaned back and put one leg up on the desk.  He was easing in for a good, lazy jerk.  She slowed her own motions to match him, wanting to wait to bring herself to climax until she saw him shoot his wad.  Thinking about it made her gut tighten and lips part.  She circled her nub and gasped at the warmth building there.

Then Meghan jumped.  She heard a foot scrape behind her.  Adam.  She pulled her hand out of her pants, but it was far too late to hide what she’d been doing.

He was right behind her.  She could feel his warmth and hear his breathing.  She flushed, feeling her face burning.  Right through the window, clear as day was Jason masturbating.  There was no question that Adam knew instantly what she was up to.

He took her wrist and pulled her hand up to his lips.  He deliberately smelled her middle finger, breathing in the scent of her sex.  She tried to turn, to face him, to gather the will to speak and explain.  He took her finger between his lips and sucked it.  She gasped.

Adam wrapped his arms around her middle and turned her so that she was standing right in front of the window.  She could feel the bulge of his erection against her ass.  Then she felt his fingers in the waist of her jeans as he pulled them off of her hips.  Then her panties joined them.  She helped him kick them off of her ankles.  The cold air of the basement flirted with her naked legs.

He pulled her light sweater over her head.  She didn’t resist him stripping her.  She watched Jason working his slick cock as Adam unsnapped her bra.  Her nipples tightened against the cold.  Even though it was dark in the room, she felt completely exposed standing bare-breasted in the window.

She heard Adam unbuckling and unzipping behind her.  Goosebumps rippled along her flesh.  Jason reached for the lotion and squirted more on his palm, then smeared it on his erection.  Meghan longed to touch her tingling bud.  She sensed Adam right behind her, and pushed her butt out to make it easier for him.

She felt Adam’s familiar short, thick cock nudging around her wetness.  She braced her hands on the windowsill, taking in a sharp breath as she felt him find and push inside her heat.  He was wide and she loved the feeling as he stretched her.  Not pain exactly, but an exquisite pinch as he filled her.  She could feel his cock-head like a ring of heat.  She pushed her hips against him, gasping, then felt the intense connection as he took her fully.  She sighed and looked at Jason through the window.  Oblivious to the fornication happening in the window next to him he was still stroking himself, eyes glued to the computer.  A look of concentration was on his face.

Adam began to thrust, threatening to push her up against the window sill.  His thick cock opened her.  He found the hair between her legs with a big hand, caressing it then seeking her clit.  She spread her legs to make it easy for him.  His middle finger rubbed round and round in tingling, torturous circles.

Meghan moaned as he rubbed her in time to his strokes.

Her breasts bounced as Adam found his own rhythm.  She could hear his heavy breathing.  She watched Jason, who had started to pump his slippery cock with abandon.  She could see from his face that he was getting close.  She pushed her ass against her husband, pushing him further into her pussy, rubbing onto him.  She heard him groan as she rolled her hips, milking his cock with her pussy.  He stopped thrusting for a moment to let her pleasure him, but his finger found her clit more fiercely.  She felt heat and tingling filling her loins.

She sucked air as he then grabbed her hips with both hands and started to fuck her urgently.  She knew her husband well enough to know that he was close, too.  Her finger found her tender nub and started to rub in rhythm with his strokes.  She felt his balls slapping her.  She yelped at his thrusts and braced herself with her other hand.

Through her desire she watched Jason, saw the ecstatic look cross his handsome face, watched the arc of cum spurt across his belly.  The sight of his climax sent Meghan over the edge, and spasms of pleasure filled her.  Adam couldn’t hear her noises without coming as well, and she felt him pound his lust into her, groaning as he spilled his come into her wetness with jerky thrusts.

Meghan panted, arm pressed against the window.  She was sweating.

Jason got up, unaware of them, cleaned up with a tissue and left the room.  Adam slipped his fat cock out of her and after a moment of shivering and trembling against the window she turned to him.

He wrapped his arms around her nakedness.  She felt slim enfolded in him.  She could feel his lowering cock sliding against her thigh.

“I just came down here to start a load of laundry and grab a cookbook,” she whispered.

She could feel him smile into her hair.  “Well, I came down here to give you the business,” he said.  “I had no idea that you would already be warmed up.  Do you like watching men get off?”

She blushed.  “I don’t know.  It doesn’t come up much, does it?”

“Well,” Adam said softly.  “If you do, just let me know.  We can make it a thing.”

Meghan smiled privately as she got dressed, found the cookbook she was looking for, and started a load of laundry.

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Copyright 2012 Sexscribbler | All Rights Reserved