Brian Laver: Peeping wife

His head was floating, he wasn't too drunk to know what he was doing. He was just drunk enough to have all the courage he would need to make a pass at the gorgeous little chick.

The door soon opened and Betty stepped out. She saw Tom standing theft and smiled. He moved toward her, and Betty began to move out of his way, thinking he was heading for the bathroom, but she soon realized that he was coming toward her. Tom reached out for her hips, too drunk to worry about what might happen.

When Betty looked up at him and closed her eyes as he bent to kiss her, he felt an exhilaration lift him off the floor. As they kissed, he backed her into the bathroom and closed the door. Holding each other tightly, they pound their faces together madly, wrestling with their tongues.

Tom reached up and took her tit in his hand. The feel of another woman's tit was glorious to him after being so used to Ann's tits. Betty's were saggier, but full and big. He lifted the jug as if he were weighing it, and buried his fingers in its softness.

With his prick hard and throbbing, he pressed himself to Betty's stomach and she moved her body to give his cock a rub. Tom sank to his knees and pulled Betty's sweater up. Under it, she wore a jersey, and he began tugging off her pants. Before long, and with her help, he had her tits bared.

He looked at the round, heavy globes resting lightly on the ribs beneath. Her nipples were already hard and tight. She was so short that Tom could reach her tits easily even though he was on his knees, and he sucked in one of those brown berries. Betty held his head tightly to her living pillow of softness.

They wouldn't have much time, so he couldn't dawdle at her tits. As he sucked, he fumbled at her pants, but she had to help him get them unfastened. Tom pulled his head back to watch her lower her pants, and when he saw her cute little patch of brown curls he dove for it. Betty caught him and pulled him away.

"No. Fuck me," she said.

Tom was too drunk to think of what might have happened if he had eaten her then gone back to his wife with the smell of pussy on his face.

He helped Betty up on the edge of the sink. She spread her legs and Tom moved between them. Betty helped get his cock into her tight snatch. First, she moved his fat head around in her slot to get her nice and juicy. Tom noticed that her hand didn't even reach all the way around his prick and he wondered if it was going to fit in her cunt.

He stood there, swaying slightly as she did all the maneuvering. Putting a leg around each side of his body, she pulled his prick to her cuntal mouth.

Tom leaned forward until he felt his prick moving into the tight sock of her twat. They had to go slow, waiting for Betty's cunt to stretch enough to accommodate Tom's big prick.

When he was all the way in, he realized that he'd never worn such a tight pussy. It was stretched over him like a sausage skin. When he pulled and pushed, he felt the most incredible sensation of wet flesh sliding over his bulging dong. He held Betty's ass as he lunged with faster and deeper strokes.

They were soon grunting, but Betty put her hand over Tom's mouth to quiet him. She could tell he wasn't used to getting quickies in bathrooms at parties.

As he fucked her, he began to lift her from the sink until she was holding on to him around the neck with her arms and around the waist with her legs. Tom was standing, supporting both of them, and swinging his hips to bounce her on his cock. The alcohol slowed him down, and by the time he was filling her with hot gism, he was sweating and panting.

When he put her down, she told him to rinse his face. She dried him off and helped him get dressed. By the time they were both ready to go back into the living room, they'd been in the bathroom for quite a while.

"Wait until I see if the coast is clear," Betty said.

Tom stayed out of sight as she opened the door.

"Oh, just a minute please," he heard her say. Then she closed the door and faced him with a strange look on her face. "There are three people waiting to get in here, and one of them is Ann."

That sobered Tom up. "What'll we do?" he asked.

"You have to go out the window," Betty said. He knew she was right. They opened the window and he crawled out. It was a small window, and he was a big guy. Betty had to shove with all her might. Tom fell into the snow outside and got up. His leg was scraped and his neck hurt, but he knew he'd better get back into the house before he was seen out there.

He ran to the front door and let himself in. Brushing the snow off him, he walked into the living room with as much nonchalance as he could muster. Betty met him and told him to come into the kitchen. There she helped him dry off with some paper towels, and he soon looked almost as good as new.

"Where have you been?" Ann asked when she finally found him.

"I, uh, stepped out for some air," he said. He thought it was brilliant to make up that excuse since his feet were wet anyhow.

"Outside?" Ann asked.

"Yea," Tom said innocently. Alcohol makes it easier to tell a lie, he discovered.

"I'm ready to go," Ann said. "How about you?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," Tom said.

They found the Taylors and thanked them, said goodbye to the people they ran into on their way out, and left. As they went outside, they met Phil Apple. He said he hoped Ann was feeling okay, and she noticed that he was with the woman she'd peeked at in the bedroom. Of course, Ann realized, that was Sarah Apple she'd been peeking at when Phil almost caught her.

"What did he mean he hoped you were okay?" Tom asked.

"Got me," she said. "Do I look all right?"

Tom drove home slowly, trying to remember the way to the Taylors. He was hoping for another invitation from them soon.

A few days after the party, Joe and Jane came back to Tom and Ann's on their way home. They came for dinner and were going to spend the night. Naturally, Ann was in a passion with the idea of peeking at them again. The promise she made to herself never to peek again when she had almost been caught peeking at the party by Phil Apple, was forgotten as the memory of the pleasure she'd derived from voyeurism far outstripped the embarrassment.

Ann could hardly enjoy the company of her old friends because she was so anxious far them all to go to bed so she could have another chance to peek. Tom was drinking a lot again, and Ann kept filling his glass. If he didn't go right to sleep, her chances would be shot.

In an effort to get Jane and Joe in the mood to put on a show for her, Ann was giving Joe good shots of her tits as they appeared in her low-cut sweater when she bent in front of him to pour him drinks. Also, she had worn a skirt so she could show him her creamy thighs as she sat facing him.

Joe didn't fail to notice the view, Ann was glad to see, and she got a little carried away. She sat with her knees apart, and even hung one of her legs over the arm of the easy chair, showing Joe the white crotch of her panties. She watched to see if Jane or Tom were wise to her, but Tom was too interested in ogling Jane to notice, and Jane was talking and laughing in her usual good humor without suspecting a thing.

Joe and Jane were on their way back from visiting with Jane's parents and they told Ann and Tom all about it. Joe was a good story-teller, and he made it sound like a lot of fun and very funny. Jane kept interrupting him to correct some point of fact, but the correction wasn't as funny as the way Joe told it.

Tom told them that the shop was almost ready to open, and he gave them the usual pitch about moving to Owlsport. Tom even mentioned that if the shop worked out, they could hire them. Joe thanked him, but repeated that he didn't think he could ever leave his good job in the city.