Robert Vickers: Swinging aunt

She began to fantasize. This wasn't masturbation. She wasn't the one pulling the long wooden stick into her pussy. She really felt a man's cock filling her to overflowing. Her cunt could barely withstand the size of his cock because she was a virgin in her fantasy.

"Ummm, don't hurt me," she whined. Her entire body hummed with life it hadn't known before. She gasped as the long, hard rod of cock worked back and forth in her increasingly fluid cunt. She fucked harder and harder. The fires in her gut burst into brilliant suns that threatened to totally consume her.

She came.

The woman pulled harder at the wooden rod in her pussy. She twisted and turned and drove it until the friction was burning her soft cuntal walls. She groaned louder, more insistently. She had come but the feelings inside her body told her that more and better orgasms were yet to come.

Her fingers lightly brushed across her clit as she worked the wooden handle around in her twat. This was all the stimulus she needed to get off again. The come reduced the feeling of intense sexual tension in her belly, but there was still need inside. Terrible, gnawing need.

She tossed her head back and let out a heartfelt moan of desire. The woman couldn't hear anything but the sound of her own pulse hammering like a drumbeat in her temples. She felt her tits expand with an increased flow of blood. Her nipples threatened to explode like tiny firecrackers from the arousal she felt.

"Ummm, faster, gotta fuck myself faster," she moaned. The wooden rod blurred with the speed of the fucking. She turned it so it would pull harder and harder at her clinging cunt walls. The friction built to the point where she could no longer take it. She exploded in the wild frenzy of climax.

Electrical pulses shot throughout her body. Her brain burned as the orgasm seized control of her. Her pussy contracted fiercely around the buried stick. She had never had come like this one. And when the woman returned to the reality around her from the pleasant wonderland of sex, she realized that not much had changed.

She sat in the flower bed, the cool earth under her ass. Her wiggling around had dug a little hole in the exact shape of her buttocks, but the cars still went by in the street, noticing nothing unusual in the back yard, and the stars still spun around overhead in their cold, unfeeling orbits.

Gloria sighed and stroked harshly across the tips of her boobs. The sudden jolt of sensation brought her senses to full alert again. She was fooling herself into thinking this had been great. It hadn't been. She still felt all the desire for a man's prick that she had before. She'd gotten off on the masturbating but it wasn't the same as a real fucking. There was a need that was completely unfulfilled in her.

She rose and peeped back into the bedroom window. She had to let out a sigh of admiration for Frank and his fucking. He was still going at it with all the strength and speed he had been when she had gotten lost in her own sexual desires.

The woman on the bed was past caring about how good or bad the fucking was. She was coming like a machine gun. Gloria had never seen a woman respond like that before. Her sister was convulsed with one come right after another and Frank didn't slow down his fucking one bit to let her ride them out.

Gloria guessed that his powerful fucking was what kept Denise forever perched at the brink of climax. His cock could pleasure any woman, but his skill at fucking was obviously greater than she'd thought it was. She watched as he pulled almost entirely from the woman's gripping cunt, only to bury himself balls deep back into her softly yielding flesh.

The spying woman sighed again as she imagined what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that cock. Better than using a wooden handle of a spade, she knew. Her fingers drifted down and lightly touched her own cunt lips as she watched the fucking inside.

She felt like crying at the strain she was under. She knew intense sexual need and there was no hope of gratifying it.

"Oh, dear God, Frank, can't take much more. Can't!" the woman inside pleaded. "Stop, stop it!"

He didn't answer and Gloria saw the reason why. His face was locked into the expressionless mask of a man about ready to come. He was summoning all his strength and control to try to prolong the glorious fucking just a few strokes longer. He might have succeeded or maybe not. Gloria couldn't tell from the angle at which she spied.

She knew when he arched his back, screamed out, loud and long and drove his cock even deeper into the clinging pussy wrapped around him. She guessed then that his balls were spewing forth their creamy load of jism. For a long instant, the man poised like that, then his hips exploded in a wild frenzy that made his previous fucking look restrained and almost sedate. Gloria wondered how either of them survived being ripped apart by such an outpouring of physical strength.

Both came together. She watched the woman's legs wrap tightly around the man's waist as they both rolled over, hips still pounding. Then, after an eternity of bliss, they slowed their movements and slipped into the circle of each other's arms.

Gloria didn't blame them for being tired out. After a fucking like that she would have been exhausted, too.

But she hadn't been fucking like that. She had been masturbating with a garden tool and she was hornier than hell.

Something would have to be done about that. But what?

Gloria pulled her nightie closer to her body an silently drifted away from the bedroom window. She felt dirty for having spied on her sister like this. Their fucking should have been private and no one should watch a thing like that.

Then Gloria got mad. It wasn't her fault they left the window open like that. They could have pulled the drapes tighter together and robbed her of a view. They were lucky it had been a relative and not some sicko out for a cheap thrill.

"That's right," she said out loud. "They should be happy it was me and not some Peeping Tom who gets his kicks out of that and nothing else. They aren't X-rated movie stars to be put on display." She smiled to herself and silently added, "But they could be. Damn, but those two are real fuckers."

She walked around the back yard a bit more, the damp grass making her feet feel as if they were frozen. In spite of the light breeze, she felt warm inside. And she knew exactly where that heat came from. It was her cunt begging for some long, hard, virile male cock to be shoved into it.

It had been a while and she couldn't deny her body much longer. Henry's death had really shocked her. Why, she hadn't even been to one of her Tuesday night "bridge" games with Tom and Jennifer. With Henry gone, it hadn't seemed proper somehow. She would have to consider going, now that some sexual longing was returning to her.

Some longing? She laughed harshly as she leaned against the low fence and watched the passing cars. It wasn't some. It was a lot and it was eating her up inside.

She hadn't realized how few people she really knew until her husband was dead and planted in the ground. They had done everything together. They had been a team, depending upon each other, going places and doing things, but always together. Outside of Tom and Jennifer, they hadn't really had any friends – and those two were very special. If she wanted to get laid, who could she go to?

Hardly Frank. He and Denise were so straight it was almost painful. If she openly propositioned him, he might not be able to get another hard-on for a month. Somehow, the idea of going out and picking some guy up in a bar didn't appeal to her, either.

She was out of touch with the way things were done. And it seemed sordid to her, taking drinks and stringing a guy along all because they were both horny and wanted to fuck. Better to simply walk up to a likely looking guy and flat out say, "Hey, I like your looks. Let's fuck."