Heather Brown - Wild housewife

I was glad for him, but, of course, I couldn't show it. Obviously all of my power over him derived from fear.

So I slapped him a few more times, called him a turd, and spat in his face. He loved it.

I started to get down to the final business.

"Now I want you to come!" I sharply ordered him. "I'm ready for you!"

Clenching the sinews of my cunt into a noose, I yanked Steve's friction-producing foreskin all the way to the tip of his cock-head. Then I thrust back my ass and abruptly expelled several inches of prick.

Just as abruptly I recaptured it. The noise of pumping suction filled the room and drowned out whatever was going on outside.

Then I was out again. In again. Out again.

Fucking!

Bringing him to orgasm.

Steve moaned deliriously, totally out of control of his own body. His huge dick was more clearly an extension of my body than of his own during these electric moments.

Steve's jizz came just at the instant the smell of burnt meat filled the bedroom. By now the smoke was choking the place.

Then the sirens engorged the previously quiet spring afternoon. The hysterical screams of a middle-aged woman became simultaneously audible.

Steve Chandler's cum was flowing into my cunt while commotion raged outside. My pussy was awash with thick spunk, and climaxing like crazy.

Of course what had happened was that Steve's neglected steaks had finally caught fire while he was in my bedroom fucking me. His wife had panicked because of the billowing smoke and had called the fire department.

Long after Steve's coming stopped, the hiss of escaping liquid continued to fill the air. Fire hoses-drenching my suburban lover's barbecue pit.

"Get out there, you turkey!" I finally regained my wits. "Your wife's going crazy. You'll blow everything."

Sadly I watched his still-dribbling prick pull obediently from my twat.

Oh well, there was always tomorrow…

If that stupid jerk Steve didn't mess up.

After struggling into his clothes, Steve slipped out the front door, and then came running around the far side of my house with a garden hose he'd snatched in a moment of inspiration from my front lawn. "Fire! Fire!" I could hear him yelling, giving me confidence that we'd gotten away with it.

Certain that I had called the shots to perfection, and worrying about nothing, I got up from the bed and started toward the bathroom and a long, luxurious hour or so in a hot tub.

A crying teenage girl was sitting on the toilet seat, holding her face in her hands as she uncontrollably sobbed.

"Susan!" I blurted incredulously to my distraught daughter. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at your boarding school?"

"I got homesick and ran away," she blubbered.

"Why didn't you call first?" I asked desperately, wishing I could turn back the clock.

All of a sudden the tears stopped. "And miss this?" Susan said with chilling sarcasm, fixing me with an icy stare. I'd never felt so small.

Susan had seen everything, of course. Sneaking into the house to surprise me, she had walked in on her mother making love with a man other than her father for the second time. Huddling in the hallway, she had witnessed everything between the next-door neighbor and me right up to the point where Steve had filled my cunt with his cum.

The fire engines had sent her scurrying into the bathroom. Once there, however, she was too crest-fallen to try and hide. Instead she gave into her emotions and just sat down and cried.

After our confrontation my daughter refused to talk to me. It was clear she was very hurt. I got in touch with the boarding school, but quickly learned it was no longer a viable alternative for Susan. "Your daughter is too difficult for us, Mrs. Harper," the Dean laid it on the line. "Her adjustment has been extremely poor, and frankly we were relieved when she made the decision to terminate her studies with us."

"Then you won't take her back?" I asked.

"Not under any circumstances."

My next move was to swallow my pride and try to get in touch with Ernie. It was all for naught, though, because his mother informed me that he was on a special long-distance haul to Alaska. He might not be back for a couple of months.

So there I was, sharing a house with a daughter who loathed me so much that she refused to talk to me. I was at wit's end trying to think of a way to get through to her.

In desperation I went to the library and checked out every book on child psychology I could find. I prayed that the experts could at least provide me with some kind of clue as to how to alleviate this unbearable situation.

Through the psychology books I came to realize that Susan's anger was not so much directed at me, but focused inward. At the relatively tender age of fourteen she was still naive enough to take the blame for my unacceptable behavior. She felt she must be a bad girl indeed to have such an awful mother; that she had gotten the mother she deserved.

Armed with my new understanding of her plight, I tried my best to get through to my daughter. And the development on which I was chancing everything occurred in a completely unanticipated fashion. I had never considered the possibility of the door opening while Susan was sound asleep.

"Mommy, Mommy!" I heard her call from her bedroom. "Mommy, something awful is happening!" It was not the voice of a young woman, but that of a small child.

I ran into her room and found her crying, shaking and drenched with sweat in her sleep. Imagining that she was a little girl again and having a nightmare.

"Tell me what happened, darling," I asked.

"It was coming after me," she whimpered.

"What, sweetheart?"

"A… a… man," she verbally stumbled.

"A man was chasing you?"

"No," she shuddered. "Not all of him. Just his… his… thing."

"You mean his penis?"

"Yes, Mommy," she responded to my approach, "his penis was big and hard. Bigger than Daddy's." Her entranced eyes were getting as round as Little Orphan Annie's.

"Why was the penis chasing you, darling?" I delved.

"It was trying to get inside me!" she squealed with fright.

"Inside your vagina?" I asked in an even voice, desperately trying to conceal my inner concern.

"At first," she answered breathlessly, "but then it was trying to get inside my butt, too. The man was trying to get his thing-uh, penis-inside the hole in my butt."

"How far did he get?"

"Just the head of his thing-uh, penis-against the outside of my hole."

"Dear, if you're having trouble thinking of the right words, just go ahead and call them whatever you want. Mommy understands."

"The man's cock was trying to fuck me in the cunt and ass," she graphically stated the plot of her nightmare.

My eyebrows raised as I temporarily lost control of the cool I had struggled so hard to maintain.

No matter how nervous it made me, if anything I should encourage her to go on. If permitting her to talk dirty would put me in contact with Susan at long last, I had no choice but to go along with it.

This was definitely no time to scold her. I must comfort her. Make her feel better. Show her that the Mommy she had thought betrayed her still loved her unquestioningly. Go along with her to the limit.

"I'm so scared, Mommy," Susan responded to my restraint.

"Do you want me to hold you, darling?"

"Could you do something else, Mommy?" she asked. "Something that always makes me feel better."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart."

"There's a little button at the top of my cunt," Susan replied with pink-cheeked innocence.

"What happens when you press this button you're talking about, hon?" I asked.

"Mmmmmm, it feels so good," she gushed. "A lot of times I do it to myself, but it would feel even better if you did it, Mommy."