Janet McCoy: The coach_s hot wife

From this day forth, Steve would be someone new. Not just a boy. A young man on the brink of adulthood.

"Mmmmmmmmmm… your your cock tastes so good, Stevie!" The redhead's whole body quivered with the intensity of her emotion. For so long, she had been obsessed with the idea of becoming Steve Manners' friend. She had been even more sensitive to his prim disapproval than she was to that of his father.

It had been a shocking discovery to realize that what she really wanted from the boy was the first taste of his manhood. But as soon as she saw the significance of her interest in the boy, she felt as if she had released an incredible shock-wave of emotion. Once she knew she wanted him, she could let out all the frustrated hunger that let her know just how much she wanted him. Once she had his hard cock in her mouth, she could shower on it all the savage zeal of her infatuation with a boy more than ten years her junior.

It all flowed out of her. All her suppressed forbidden passion. It surged from her supple lips down through the turgid shaft of the teenagers cock.

Gwen had never appreciated so much the fleshy feel of an excited cock inside her mouth. She moaned lustily as her lips nibbled at Steve's inflated cock-tip. While her lips made an oval to slide down his cock-shaft, her tongue licked his cock-tip as though it were a large tasty ice cream cone. Her head bobbed up and down, repeating the obscene motions over and over again. The redhead could not remember when she had felt so totally carried away by sensual rapture. His cock was exactly what she wanted. The tangy flavor of his seeping seminal fluid jarred her senses and made her moist twat squirm with excitement.

The boy was as far gone as Gwen was. He lay oblivious beneath the warm rays of the afternoon sun, letting the raw pleasure surge through him. He was with her mouth at every jerk and suck. He felt her lick his cock-tip. He felt her lips close tight to suck his cock to tingling rigidity. The thrill of her ministrations was so consuming, he even forgot to worry about whether he would be able to maintain his self-control long enough to impress her.

Yet the joy was tugging on him, puffing him higher and higher. With every move of her talented mouth, Steve was crawling closer to the inevitable. It bit him all at once, in one consuming gust of flooding ecstasy. He felt his cum-juices spurting into her mouth. An ecstatic grin broke over his face. It felt right, so right, to be giving Miss Pope a hot mouthful of his love-juices.

"Mmmmmmmmmmm…" Delirious with pleasure, Gwen sucked and nibbled at Steve's cock until it was only a limp remnant of what it had been a few minutes before. Still she sucked on him, ever so softly. Her head rested on his thigh as she savored the contented glow of aftermath.

It pleased her to think there was still more than a week before Rex returned from Europe. There were so many things for her and the boss' son to explore before then!

And she and young Steve had continued to explore, for three years. He was still as infatuated as ever with his boss' secretary. But it was different now. He knew Miss Pope. He knew every lush squirming inch of her as well as he knew the hungers of his lusty cock.

Steve had seduced many young girls since his first experience with Miss Pope. But he was always on the lookout for more adventures. And he still liked older women best…

Martha Roy was almost always harried when her husband Frank was around. She was a nervous woman, and Frank knew how to get to her. She was always ready to jump in his presence, sure that he would somehow or other manage to find something to scold her over. At times she had thought of leaving Frank. It seemed wrong to spend so much of her life feeling miserable. Yet the courage or the determination always failed her. She stuck around, and she continued to worry about how to please Frank.

The scrambled eggs and bacon were sitting at his place at the table, waiting for him. Martha began to fidget. She knew how Frank hated cold eggs. She tugged absently at the ties of her robe. She would give him two more minutes, then she would put his breakfast in the oven.

Just at that moment Frank appeared. He was freshly shaven. He wore a clean, neatly pressed shirt. He looked handsome, Martha thought, even though he was carrying an unnecessary twenty pounds around his middle.

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation when he saw the food. He scarcely looked at his wife. She stood by the stove watching him as he wolfed down his meal. Long ago, Martha had given up trying to make breakfast time conversation. Frank spent his breakfasts with the sports page. Martha had her breakfast after he left for the high school. The arrangement kept peace in the family.

"Will you make me some more toast, Martha? I'm hungry as a bull this morning." He looked up at his wife over the paper. "What the hell are you looking so hangdog about? God, woman, why don't you comb your hair in the morning and try to make yourself look civilized? Shit, how's a guy supposed to get it up around something that looks like that?"

He went back to his sports page. Martha waited for the toast to pop. She was used to his disparaging remarks. There had been a time when she felt she did not deserve them. She had tried to keep herself pretty-looking, but Frank did not even seem to notice. Lately she had given up wearing makeup and arranging her hair in the morning. There seemed no point. She was thirty now. No one noticed her. She might as well make herself worthy of Frank's cutting comments.

Yet still they hurt. Martha had been twenty when she married Frank, who had been almost thirty. She had been crazy about the big handsome athlete who had just given up a minor league football career to become a high school coach. She had expected life with Frank to be warm and loving and secure. She had expected a family.

But Frank had soon made it clear that he did not want kids around. "I get enough of them at school," he told her. Martha had soon grown bored with her life as a housewife, but Frank had forbidden her to go to work. He made it clear that as far as he was concerned, her job as his wife was a full time concern.

Bored and frustrated, still Martha stayed with her big, hard-drinking husband. While he drank beer and watched TV, she read romance magazines about the things in life that seemed to be passing her by. She felt all her hurts and anxieties catching up with her as she stood over the toaster. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She tried not to sniffle to give herself away. She knew how Frank hated her to cry.

But she could not help herself. The tears flowed faster and she had to sniff to get air into her lungs.

"Where the hell's my toast? And what the hell's the matter with you?" he demanded roughly.

"N-n-nothing…"

"Ah shit… don't tell me you're going to pull one of your self-pitying acts again!" He threw his fork down onto his plate and stood up. Martha cringed. She hoped this was not the beginning of one of her husband's temper tantrums. She did not think she could take it this morning.

But instead of flying into a temper, Frank grabbed hold of his wife and bent her rudely over the kitchen sink. He lifted up her robe to reveal the still shapely cheeks of her ass. He caressed them roughly. His actions aroused the lust latent in his balls. His cock began to strain against his trousers. "I know what's the matter with you, woman! I haven't screwed you for a couple of days. You're probably climbing the walls with horniness… am I right… cunt?"

He liked to tease her by goading her about her bottomless sexual appetite. Martha did like to make love. It was the only thing she did in life that was really intense, really meaningful to her. She responded wantonly to Frank's frequent sexual advances, but she often wished, he would be more tender with her. She longed for a lover who would be more romantic… who would compliment her and woo her and whisk her away with his gallantry. That was the kind of lover she read about in her magazines. It was not the kind of lover she had for a husband.