Ron Taylor - Wife on the prowl

"Oh, shit, yes," he groaned, working her legs further apart by sliding his own between them. Melinda still had him by the pecker, and she brought the tip of his dong to rest on the widening lips of her twat. Her hand forced it up and down, along the creased slice, and her moisture flowed out to coat him in its sticky warmth. Ron thrust at her, anxious to bury his dick in her sopping tunnel, but she wiggled her ass and eased away from him.

"Not yet," she said. "First you have to get all greased and juicy. Your cock is so big, I'm afraid it'll tear me apart, otherwise." It wasn't true, but it had a brilliant effect on Ron. He reared back, seeming to grow at least a couple of feet in height, and his face broke into a smug, confident smile. Good, Melinda thought. The more masculine he feels, the better he'll be when it gets down to fucking business. She soaked his cock in her juices, ten looked at him all wide-eyed and anxious. "Now," she whispered. "Stick it in me now. Fuck me, darling. Fuck me till I screw for mercy."

"Bet your Goddamned ass!!" he shouted, pushing her down upon the bed. Melinda sprawled beneath him, her legs angling out, ass drawing back as he lined up his cock with her twat and began to shove it up her.

He went in quickly, hard, deep, and she moaned in delight. God, it felt so good to be screwed by someone who meant business! This was her second time today, but a dozen more wouldn't begin to make up for the shameful, callous neglect her husband had been showing her the last several months. Still, it was a beginning and it damned sure wasn't the end!

As soon as he was in her she wrapped her legs around him, anchoring them inside his thighs, and she looked up at his face. "This had better be good," she said, "because you don't get loose until I've gotten my rocks off. At least twice. So fuck for all you're worth, baby."

His answer was a deep, hard thrust of his stiff pecker, a thrust that awakened old memories in Melinda, made her cry out in joy.

She bounced up to meet him, and her hands enfolded him just as her legs had already done. God, she thought, it's perfect! He's fucking me because he wants to, because I want him to. So go ahead, Neil Stillman. Screw the ass off your little blonde twinky, you son of a bitch. You gave up more woman than you could ever handle, and I hope you're happy, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. I know that I am.

"Stick me," she grinned. "Stick me with your fat hard cock, you sexy devil, you!" A come was building in her guts, a come stirred from the thrill of a stiff prick, the excitement of adultery, the stereotypical atmosphere of this motel room. And, not least of all, the obvious excitation of her pickup partner. God, he was fucking like a hurricane! She wondered how long he'd been on the road, how long since he'd scored a piece of juicy cunt. Oh, she didn't want to know. The only thing that mattered a Goddamn was the prong he was feeding her hungry little pussycat. When she'd drained him, she'd find herself another man just as hot, just as horny. And after him, another. And after him…

Melinda listened a moment to Ron's snoring, then shook her head in disgust. What was wrong with him? Only two hardons in a night? Was that all he could manage? He'd dumped two boiling loads of cum into her uterus, but she still felt empty, wanting. And there he lay, snug under the covers, his dick a wilted little worm dangled across his drained scrotum.

"Well, the hell with you," she whispered, shutting out the light as she left the room. He'd wake up in the morning, she fantasized, and find her gone. Maybe he'd wonder all the rest of his life if she'd been real or just a figment of his imagination, a man on the road's hot wet dream of sex. She hoped so. Oh, Christ, the night was so young! It couldn't be much after eleven. If Ron was out for the duration, she fucking well wasn't. And where there was one man, there were bound to be more. As she went down the hall, Melinda spoke softly, "Neil, you bastard, I only wish you could see me."

Her car as parked in the lot outside. Fortunately she'd not left it at the bar where she'd met Ron. All she had to do now was hop into that car and drive round the city, looking…

Four blocks from the Holiday Inn, she saw a garish neon sign. DREAMLAND THEATER. FINEST ADULT ENTERTAINMENT. OPEN 24 HOURS. Melinda smiled to herself. A porno theater. She'd always been just a little curious about them but she'd never had the courage to go to one before. And Neil had never shown much interest. Well, she'd seen a porno tape this afternoon, at the detective's office. Why not lay her money down and take a look at some genuine pornographic movies? What could she lose? Melinda braked, cruised round the corner, and found a parking space.

A tied-out woman in her sixties was in the ticket window. She took Melinda's three dollars and handed her a ticket, but if she had any curiosity as to why an attractive woman wanted to see a dirty movie, she didn't betray it. Melinda went inside, gave her ticket to a man who tore it in two, then directed her toward a velvety maroon curtain at the other end of the lobby.

Melinda stopped at the curtain, closing her eyes. It was an old trick of hers, one that allowed her eyes to become used to the darkness she'd find inside. That way, she wouldn't be blind when she went into the dark theater itself.

Eyes still closed, she pushed through the curtains. She could hear sounds – rock music, poorly recorded, and, mixed with that a series of groans and cries. Melinda opened her eyes.

She could see the interior of the projection area, but she could also see the large screen at the far end of the mom and, for a moment, she couldn't take her eyes away. There, in vivid color and telephoto close up, a large cock invaded a moist-looking, red-mouthed cunt. Melinda stopped at the head of the aisle she'd entered and she stared at the screen. My God, she thought. Is that how it looks?

The balls beneath the cock jiggled and quivered as the penis itself moved time and again into that yielding, accepting pussy, and Melinda watched entranced. She'd been fucked a great many times, but she'd never seen it recorded in such clinical, close up detail. The way the pussy lips moved with the invading penis. Tire milky moisture formed on the cock's barrel as it kept fucking. The way a few stray pussy hairs clung to the cock as it thrust in, broke away as it pulled out, joined it again for the inserting stroke. My God, my God, sang Melinda's brain. Dave Hammett ought to get shots like these.

The camera pulled back, and she saw the people whose private parts she'd already seen so intimately. The man was dark and hairy or an ape, the girl pale-skinned, fragile of face, but with saggy breasts and a slightly puffed belly that Melinda found rather unattractive. Still, they were fucking, on the big screen, and fucking very nicely. If they were aware of a camera a presence in the room with them, didn't advertise the fact. The girl's eyes were closed and her mouth was they in a continual moan of acceptant glee. The man played with her saw tits, his fingers pinching off the nipples. White streaks showed in her flesh where he fondled her, and she writhed against his penis with little twitches and wiggles that swallowed him time and again.

The soundtrack continued as before, while Melinda stood in the aisle, and though a man with pronounced body odor eased past her and out through the curtain, she didn't pay much attention to anything except the sight and sound ahead. "Ohhhh" and "Ahhhh" and "Mmmmmm" and "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" emanated from the speakers, to the accompaniment of that tinny rock music, until there was a clang of cymbals and the man on screen dried his cock from his partner's clinging goo. Melinda's head eased to one side as she watched him fist his dick, shake it twice or thrice, and then spill cum all over the sag-titted girl's bush and belly.