Ron Taylor: Wife on the prowl

When Kathy was fully nude, she pulled Neil's ears and he stood, grinning like a shit-eating dog. Kathy wrapped her arms around his waist and oozed herself against him, rubbing him up and down with her ripe young figure. She leaned back and started to unbutton his shirt. Neil threw it off while Kathy stooped and let down his pants. Next his shorts. He moved obediently as she denuded him, and his cock lanced up, red and stiff, so throbbingly erect that even the videotaped image made Melinda's saliva start to pool inside her mouth.

"Do you want to see any more?" Dave Hammett suggested. Melinda turned and glared at him, her brown eyes blazing. He shrugged.

When she looked once more at the TV screen, Kathy was on her knees sucking Neil's dick. She had a deep well of a mouth indeed. Nearly all eight inches were firmly trapped between her lips, and her head moved in quick gobbling plunges that sank Neil into her mouth almost to the balls. Melinda felt a lump in her throat as she watched that. She'd never been able to take her husband so deeply, though God knew she'd tried. Kathy seemed to have no trouble whatsoever.

Neil was grinning, even more broadly than before. He had the blonde girl by the head, guiding her, directing her, feeding her his meat stick with a frenzied eagerness. He rocked on his heels, riding high, slamming his dick into Kathy, whose eyes were closed in an expression of almost religious intensity as her cheeks worked in and out on the barreling cock.

Melinda miffed. Smoke. "Please," she told Hammett. "Tobacco nauseates me."

"Sorry." She heard the rubbing as he pound out his cigarette. Distractions like tobacco smoke fouling the air were the best thing she needed right now, when she was viewing the videotaped record of her husband's infidelity.

The picture on the office TV screen was as sharp and precise as anything Melinda had ever seen on television, but she'd never seen anything quite like this. Kathy was still on her knees, sucking Neil's cock greedily. It kept thrusting into her bottomless well of a mouth, thrusting till the balls pressed against Kathy's chin. The blonde girl appeared to be in seventh heaven. Her eyes rolled beneath the lightly-shut lids, her checks pulled in so far it was amazing that Neil's would even fit between their suctioning walls, and her hands slid languidly, erotically, up and down Neil's flanks and thighs.

She let his prick slip out – it was glistening from her saliva – and she opened her eyes, bright eyes, sparkling eyes, laughing what must have been a silvery laugh indeed as her index finger stroked the spit-covered penis' blazing rigidity. She touched it from beneath, making the cock lift at an even sharper angle, and she started to lick its underside, dropping her tongue back every few swipes to bounce and jiggle Neil's scrotum. Neil's face was in the camera's frame too, and Melinda could see that her husband was fully as ecstatic as his paramour. Especially when Kathy's pink tongue laved endlessly, friskily, around and across the bulging, swollen tip of his dick. He groaned, open-mouthed, and Kathy was open-mouthed for a moment, too.

But only for a moment. In the blinking of an eye she had reinserted Neil's dick in her mouth and was sucking as if her life depended on it. Her head moved swiftly, unerringly, and her arms wrapped around Neil's hips, anchoring him in place.

"I don't see why she's wasting her time in a typing pool," Hammett commented from behind Melinda. "She could really make a name for herself in porno movies."

"Perhaps," Melinda said acidly, "but what would you do for a job?"

"Sorry," he replied. "I've gotten a little callous in this racket. For you, it isn't time for jokes."

He was right, all the same. Kathy was a born cocksucker. Or were cocksucker made, rather than born? She's better than I am, Melinda thought. At least, she appears to be. Damn her.

It was Neil's face that gave it away. Melinda had seen that look many times before. He looked toward the ceiling, then at Kathy, and then his eyes snapped shut. His mouth twisted into a tight-lipped grimace, and his head quivered slightly. Melinda saw his stomach began to heave, and almost at once Kathy's eyes opened, very big. Neil was shooting his cum into her sucking mouth.

The videotaped picture was instructive, to say the least. Kathy gulped as she swallowed the offering, but it was a big, rich load, and plenty of it dripped from her mouth as she sucked. She pulled Neil's prick from her mouth and teased it with her hand until another large gob of sperm fell from the cum slit onto her tongue where it thrust out in pink, creamy readiness, and she rubbed the empty cock across her lips and checks, kissing it lavishly, lovingly.

Neil offered Kathy his hands and she stood up, her face a textbook example of simpering. Neil seized her head in his hands and kissed her madly, while Kathy locked her legs around him like a vine and clung to his body. Melinda hadn't seen a kiss as long as that one since that movie with Steve McQueen and Faye Dunaway – what was the name of it? Must have been eight or nine years ago. McQueen was a debonair thief in Boston.

The effort to remember ceased abruptly. Neil and Kathy had separated, at last, and they looked into one another's faces, and Melinda saw her husband's lips move. There was no sound on the tape but she didn't need sound. She could read lips well enough to understand at once that he was telling his blonde mistress "I love you." And if she knew her husband, after four years of marriage, his facial expression was literally reeking with sincerity.

"Goddamn you," she said softly. "Goddamn you, Neil Stillman."

Naked, they piled onto Kathy's bed. It was an old-fashioned bed, polished brass, and the brass work jiggled as Neil and Kathy settled onto the mattress. There was a moment of joyous kissing and fondling, and Kathy got her fist full of Neil's cock. It erected magnificently, eight inches of throbbing gristle clutched in her hand, and almost immediately she had reversed her mouth once again with the penis that had just furnished her supper. Neil appeared to enjoy it. He put his hand on Kathy's ass, stroking the slim, curvy shape from spine to upper thighs, and his fingers seemed magnetically drawn to the crack dividing Kathy's pert buttocks. He slithered up and down her anal cleavage, dropping lower each time he played with her, and in a moment or two his face set happily and Melinda could just make out that her husband's middle finger was slipping in and out of Kathy's pussy from the rear.

Kathy squirmed friskily, her mouth still gobbling dick, but she was laughing and giggling so energetically she could hardly concentrate much longer on eating him, so it was only to be expected that she and Neil would swiftly change position.

Kathy lay on her side facing Neil, one leg thrown across him as he scooted close. He had his hand between their crotches, adjusting something, it appeared – and Melinda knew what he was adjusting, damn him! Kathy reached in too, her hand active beside his. Her eyes got very large and round. So did her mouth. She slammed her groin against Neil's, her leg shot around him, and the brass frame of the bed began to shake uncontrollably.

Melinda turned round. "I don't think I need to see any more, Mr. Hammett," she said icily. "Please turn it off."

He nodded, flipped a couple of buttons on his playback deck. "I'm sorry," he said, "but you must have expected it would turn out like this, even before you hired me."

She nodded. That tape had been made yesterday evening. Another of Neil's "late nights at the office". He'd come home just after nine, too tired, as always, to do more than kiss his wife goodnight. And now she knew why. "How many times?" she asked Hammett. He lifted his eyebrows. "How many times did my husband fuck this young woman last evening?"