Duncan Fox - Deep throat wife

Squirming and wriggling and writhing, Karen sucked his cock, finally swallowing the rubbery head the way she had learned at the TV studio. She swallowed more and more of it, working her lips, sucking it in. She mashed her nose into his wiry black pubic hair, then had to back off to suck in some air.

She was surprised when the youth leaned back, too. He dragged his dick out of her mouth and rubbed it over her face. He smeared her face with her spit and his pre-come. Holding her head with one hand, his rigid hard-on with the other, he wiped his cock on her face. She tipped her head back so he could see the goo he was spreading all over her cheeks and nose and lips.

"Know what I'd like to do to you, white lady?" the black man asked.

"What?" Karen groaned.

"I'd like to piss all over you."

"Oh, God!" Karen moaned hotly, her lust jumping to an incredible level.

He went on wiping his dick on her face, smearing her with pre-come. "Like to piss right in your face," he went on. "Piss in your mouth, watch my piss just run down that white body of yours in yellow rivers."

"Yes," Karen moaned. "Anything, anything at all, piss on me if you want."

"Take your dress off," he ordered harshly.

Desperately, Karen struggled out of her dress and threw it side. Naked, she knelt on the slats, knelt in front of the produce man. She touched his dick with her fingers, held it, and held herself ready for him. Her mouth was half open.

For a long, aching, agonizing minute, nothing happened. She felt his pecker soften slightly, then pulse and jump in her fingers. Something hot, and wet stung her face. Hot, salty liquid spattered on her nose, into her mouth, spilled down her throat, around and over her titties, down her body in burning rivers. She felt the prick in her hands vibrating as it unloaded all over her lush, pole body, filling the air around her with a warm scent.

She was kneeling in front of a man, holding his prick while he pined all over her! And she loved it. She felt her cunt go into a mad series of spasms as she came just from his hot wastes pouring over her naked body. She writhed in a blazing coming as he pissed on her.

For what seemed like hours the hot stream played over her, then slowly died. It cut off, spurted twice, then quit completely. She was dripping and shivering. Leaning forward, she took the cock that had just fountained all over her, and put it into her mouth. She felt it come back to full hardness.

With a groan, she fell backwards onto the cold, hard, slippery slats and spread her crotch to the black man. With no preliminaries, he dropped on her and slammed his cock deep into her spuming cunt. She wound her legs around him as her hips bucked and heaved. His cock pistoned in her with a hot slapping sound. Her cunt was pounded to a pulp by his hard body.

She roared up to another screaming orgasm as he kicked her there on the floor. She dug her heels into his hard ass, spiking herself on his dick. She felt his cock leap and pump in her steaming tunnel, felt come fill her cunt as she was cremated by the flames of her coming.

Then he was done and his prick was shriveling, and she was coming down from her own peak. She felt his dick pull out of her flooded cunt. She became aware of his pies drying coldly on her naked skin. As she lay on her back, his cream dripping from her twat, she saw him rip off his shirt and throw it aside. She realized it must have gotten soaked with piss as he raped her.

For a moment, he looked down at her. He was shaking, and his hands were opening and closing nervously. "God, what have I done?" he asked.

"Nothing I didn't ask for," she assured him weakly, sadly. "Not a thing I didn't ask for."

"Yeah," he agreed, his fear easing. "Yeah, I guess that's true."

Feeling gross and disgusting and ashamed, Karen struggled to her feet. She teetered over to the sink and turned on the water hard. Then, while the youth watched, she used the hose to clean her naked body, to wash off the piss still clinging to her breasts and belly and face.

After drying herself with paper towels, she pulled her dress on. She was shivering. Without a word to the man she had degraded herself with, she unlocked the door and went back out into the store. Like she was in a dream, she took her cart and started down the next aisle.

She kept thinking of what she had just done, and kept getting horny. She thought of letting that man piss all over her, and her pussy heated up. She remembered the feel of his cock jumping and spurting in her snatch, and felt her need for another fucking growing greater.

She was going mad, of course. I must be a nymphomaniac, she reflected. But she had heard that a nymphomaniac never got any satisfaction from sex. Karen got a great deal of satisfaction from her fucking. That was the trouble. If she didn't get so much satisfaction, maybe she wouldn't do it so much.

As she was pushing her cart past the the delicatessen section, her eyes fell on the sticks of pepperoni. She stopped dead and studied the long sausages longingly. She felt come trickling down the insides of her thighs. She thought of taking one of those long cylinders, rough and hard as it was, and jamming it into her cunt. God, how it would burn! Or, up her ass, maybe. It would tear and rasp at her asshole, burn her butt with its peppery juices.

She tore herself away, and headed down the next aisle in a turmoil. There didn't seem to be any limit to her imagination any more. She didn't seem to have any inhibitions left. None at all.

Anyway, why not do it? Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. She turned up the coffee-breakfast-foods aisle. She was screamingly horny again. She had to find someone to plug her hungry hole.

She reached the meat counter, saw the butcher at work behind the plate-glass window. With powerful swings of his arm, he was cutting chops from a pork roast. After weighing and packaging them he went into a huge cooler. The door closed behind him. He came back out and set a tray of packages of a conveyor belt. The tray started toward the display case where Karen was standing.

She waited, shivering with fear and loathing for herself, and lust. He unloaded the tray and was about to head back info the workroom.

"Hello, Murph," she greeted him throatily.

"Hi, there, Mrs. Calder," the stocky Irishman said warmly. "Something I can do for you?"

"I need some meat, Murph," she answered. She was becoming much bolder.

"Yes, ma'am, that's what I'm here for."

Karen looked up and down the counter. No one was in sight. "The meat I'm looking for isn't in new," she told him conspiratorially.

Murph looked puzzled. He looked up and down the long, low case. "I don't know what it could be then," he mused. "We've got beef, lamb, pork, chicken, turkey and Cornish hen all out. Everything but horsemeat and goat," he joked.

"Why don't we go back into the cooler and see if I can find it there," Karen elaborated.

"But I'm not supposed to allow anyone back there," Murph stammered.

Karen was about to give up. The man was unbelievably dense. She rubbed her cunt through her dress, bunched the material in her crotch, moistened it with the come oozing from her slit. "I don't think you understand," she breathed. His blue eyes widened as he watched her. "This is a very special order only you can fill. And, it has, to be done in private," she told him.

Murph flushed pink and licked his lips. He wiped his hands on his apron and looked around nervously. "Well, ah, okay, but hurry, so nobody sees you," he hissed.

Karen abandoned her cart and followed him into the cool workroom. Right on his heels she followed him through the heavy door into the cooler. He pulled the door shut behind them. She heard the latch click.

The room was brightly lighted by big fluorescent fixtures. In the center was a wooden butcher's table, eight feet long and half again as wide.