Robert Taylor: Bored wife

"It's a nice house," June said.

"And you have a cute behind," Betsy giggled, stroking the firm ass humps. When she fingered into her cleft the girl groaned and forced to her, squeezing her pubic mound to Betsy's, rubbing, writhing now, mouth suckered to her throat, licking it, kissing down toward her titties.

Betsy lifted the other's skirt and dug into her panties, found her pussy now purely swampy.

June was frantically pulling the dress front down below Betsy's breasts.

Betsy said, "It's bedtime, darling," and began moving her, though June was pawing frantically at her big tits, frying to sucker her mouth onto one, while Betsy glanced apprehensively about for objects that the girl would recognize as Jim's. For once she was grateful far his obsessive neatness; even the oldest clothing had its place in a closet. She remembered the monogrammed towels in the bathroom. Keep her out of there.

In the bedroom she sat June on the edge of the bed and let her feast on tit, bending over so they hung out. Moaning and gasping, the girl sucked one while massaging the nipple of the other, then put her face between them and squeezed them to her cheeks.

In a smothered voice she cried, "Ann, I love your boobies! I could suck and suck all night long!"

Again she stuffed her mouth full of swollen tit. As she did this Betsy biked up her skirt and rolled her panties down. When they had fallen and were kicked away Betsy pushed the girl from her titties. Holding up her skirt she brought June's face into the hairiness of her pussy.

She protested, "But I don't – I don't know if I want to…"

"Lap my cunt, honey," Betsy commanded, bowing her legs and yanking the girl's head in between them.

A yawning wet suction fastened onto her pussy lips and simply absorbed them, drew them slithering into a tongue-lashing, gulping mouth. Tongue slid up Betsy's hole, flagged wildly about, stirring such a storm that for the moment she forgot her purpose in bringing June here. Holding her skin up she gazed down at the girl so eagerly sucking her cunt, nose buried in pubic hair and nostrils flaring with excitement, head bobbing rhythmically as she drove her tongue in, then sucked. Fingernails dug the cheeks of Betsy's ass as the girl tugged her in closer.

"You give wild head," Betsy gasped. She tore her dress off while arching in, humping her pussy at June's face. The tongue wagging up her hole made her belly quiver and begin to spasm toward orgasm. Before that happened she must get June naked; Jim should arrive home soon.

She pushed aside June's map of red-brown hair, found her dress zipper and tore it down, exposing her bra hooks. Swiftly she snapped the clasps free, then yanked the dress up, pulling hard, for the girl sat on part of the skirt. At last it was free and she peeled the garment up to June's armpits.

"Stop a minute so I can undress you, darling," she said.

But June would not relinquish her mouthful of pussy. "No, I want to lap your cunt, please let me eat you!"

Betsy shoved her away, stripping the dress off over her arms and head. She got her first look at June's titties, luscious pear shapes with pointy pink nipples. And her panties, transparent, a broad, dark hair mat showing through. Spilling her back on the bed, Betsy stripped off the whisp of nylon, exposing a pussy as hairy as her own. A jungle glistening with cunt dew.

"Let's sixty-nine," Betsy said, climbing onto the bed.

June needed no urging, dove for Betsy's pussy, squirming about to let Betsy in between her spraddled legs. Betsy glimpsed the dresser clock. Ten of seven. Time! She wrapped her arms about June's hips and struggled to her.

The girl's hair jungle reeked of hot cunt. Betsy parted the hair with her fingers and found her cuntal trough a luscious wet crimson into which she plunged, pressed puckered lips in, and sucking hard followed the juiciness up to a pronounced, swollen red clit.

She drew it into her lips and tuned.

June let out a shriek. "Yes, eat me, honey, suck my cunt…"

Despite the girl's outcry, Betsy heard a foreign sound.

The scrape of shoe leather.

Looking over the girl's bearded cunt, between sleek ivory thighs, she saw Jim, her husband, standing in the bedroom doorway.

Jim was not really standing. He was leaning against the doorjamb, clutching it to keep from falling. His face was ashen, gouged by black lines of terrible strain.

He looked on the point of fainting, Betsy thought as he stared with bulging eyes at the spectacle of his wife eating the pussy of his secretary, who did not see him, her face being buried in Betsy's cunt.

Laughter welled up in Betsy. Explosive laughter. But she held it down. She had planned this moment and was prepared.

"Welcome home, darling," she said. "I'd give you a kiss but I smell so strongly of your secretary's cunt that you might not like it."

His jaw, sagged. His mouth worked, hunting words. He could not even gasp.

But June could, and she screamed shrilly. "Mr. Walters!"

Grinning at him from between the girl's legs, Betsy said, "June is a great cunt-lapper. But is she a good fuck, Jim? Tell me! And the visiting big shot last night, did he enjoy screwing her? That was nice of you, turning your whore over to him. Maybe you'll get a promotion, to whore master vice-president, in charge of procuring cunt for the executive suite!"

Jim at last made noises. "Betsy, I – don't believe – my eyes…"

Betsy disentangled herself from the girl, who had burst into tears, crying, "Your name isn't Ann! You've cheated me!"

Jim said, "So you arranged this?"

Betsy sat on the edge of the bed, nodding agreement. "Just to show you two can play the game. How strange that you picked two of us with lesbian tendencies! It tells something about you, Jim. However, I'm willing to forgive you all. On condition."

"You'll forgive me?"

"Yes. The condition is, you get down on your knees and lap my cunt."

"Me? Lap?"

"I know you're too prudish. And it would demean you, going down on a woman, but I'll suck your prick, which you've never allowed me to. Which I've wanted. What I'm saying, Jim, either you turn on to me and start sharing – I want a job, by the way – or you can take your office cunt here and get the fuck out."

He moved, backed unsteadily, bulging eyes fixed on Betsy. Then he hurried toward the kitchen.

Shortly she heard the clicking of glass on glass. June cried, "You cruel thing, you'll get me fired!"

Betsy smiled coldly at her. "A pretty girl who's willing to fuck can always get a job, honey."

Jim returned with a glass in his hand, half full of dark liquid, straight whiskey. He took a gulp before he spoke. Color was returning to his face, though his hand shook.

He said, "June – all that with June – was because I knew you weren't happy with our sex life – I began to doubt myself…"

Betsy gazed down at her breasts. She plucked at a swollen nipple as though concerned only with her body, knowing this would bother him.

She said, "Jim, your cock was always hard. No complaint. No reason to doubt your manhood. But you used me for a mattress, and June too. Now, if you want me – but not as I was. As a free cunt standing on my own feet – if you love me at all, get down to my pussy."

As she spoke Betsy spread her legs, exposing the drooling split between her hairy lips.

June, she saw, was now snapping her gaze from one to the other. She held a hand across her titties, shielding them, and clutched her jungle-haired twat, defensive and alone in this struggle between husband and wife. Yet Betsy felt she understood, and had to be on the female side.

Betsy added, malicious now, "Of course, you could divorce me and marry June."

He looked startled. That, clearly, was farthest from his mind. He said, "Betsy, I admit – I shouldn't have – with June…"