Duncan Fox - Deep throat wife

For the first time that day, she was sated. The knot of horniness was gone from her gut. She was also exhausted. She heaved in a deep, shaky breath.

"Mr. Eaton, you astonish me," Karen croaked. "I-I saw you with the butcher, on closed-circuit TV," the guard wheezed weakly. "I'm sorry, but, it just got me so turned-on, I just had to have you. I had to! You, sashaying around here all naked under that dress, propositioning the butcher and poor little Willy, letting them do terrible things to you. I just had to have you. I had to."

Karen didn't make any attempt to pail her dress down. She just didn't care anymore. Besides, the come would dry faster this way. She didn't want her dress stained with the goo. "You saw it all, then."

"Everything. Even when that animal urinated in your face. Even that. You seemed to love it. And with Murph, you looked like you were being drawn and quartered. And you looked like you were enjoying it."

Karen shuddered and closed her eyes, and visualized what this sweet, elderly man must have seen.

"My wife hasn't been interested in sex in years," the man went on morosely. "I go to X-rated movies with an overcoat to put over my lap. Under it I masturbate. Seeing you was more than I could stand. If you want to turn me in, you can. You have every right to."

Karen shook her head. "I don't have a right to do anything," she answered sadly. "I asked for it all. I wanted it, everything that I got, even you. I mean including you," she corrected herself.

"You meant 'even' me," he noted sadly. "I'm old and paunchy and ugly. I'm hardly a sex star."

Karen wanted to argue with him, wanted to reassure him. "You were very good," she said softly. "I'm not horny any longer."

"You aren't?"

"No, you finally did it for me," she told him truthfully.

"Gosh!" The pride on the man's face was touching.

"I think I'd better be heading for home," Karen said at last. She dragged her dress down to cover herself.

"What's happened to you, Mrs. Calder?" the guard asked. "You've never acted this way before."

Karen bit her lip nervously. "I guess I'm changing, Mr. Eaton."

"Please, call me Jake."

"Mark hasn't been paying any attention to me," she admitted, then decided she'd better change the subject. "You say you go to X-rated movies?"

"Almost every week. It's kind of expensive, but on my day off I usually manage to get to at least one, sometimes two."

"How expensive are they?"

"Five dollars, usually. But I have to have some outlet."

Karen thought of her taping the next day. She knew the itch in her guts was going to bebackby then. "Would you like to see me in action again?" she asked.

"What?"

"Are you off tomorrow?"

"Yes."

She told him where to be, and when. "But, I don't understand," he stuttered. "Let's just say it will be my last performance," she told him. "I'm going to bring down the hall."

"Oh, my, Mr. Bernstein isn't going to like that at all," Paul observed when he saw Karen wasn't wearing a bra. She had stripped her blouse off as soon as the door of the make-up room had shut behind her. She was as jittery as a cat, and got incredibly turned-on whenever she thought about what was going to happen that day.

"Oh?" she asked innocently.

Paul shook his head dubiously and eyed her full, heavy titties. "You'll be bouncing all over the stage."

"Bernstein didn't seem to mind that blonde going bra-less."

"Well, she didn't bounce, she just sort of jiggled," Paul pointed out delicately.

Karen eased back in the chair. She felt her jugs settle from the pull of gravity. "Don't take too long with my make-up," he cautioned. "How well do you know the technical director?"

Paul busied himself with his tray. "Not very well. But Jamie does. Not intimately, you understand."

"I'd like to met Jamie," Karen announced. "This morning."

"He's not busy right now," Paul said as he started on her face. "Should I call him? Do you want to cover yourself?"

"Give him a call, and I'll stay this way," Karen answered.

"Jamie is hi too," Paul cautioned.

"So, adjust the chair," Karen joked lightly.

"You mean that? He'd love that cock-sucking technique of yours." Paul had the telephone receiver in his hand.

"Bring him on," Karen said recklessly.

When he turned from the phone, Karen could see that the make up artist had a monster hard-on. He stomach quivering with lust, she squirmed her thighs together. She could feel her tits stiffening. "Why don't you get the chair adjusted and make yourself comfortable."

Paul eased her backwards until she was lying on her back. He stood by her head, and dropped the headrest back. He nose was inches from his crotch. She had just reached up and liberated his swollen dick when the door opened and Jamie came in.

Karen studied his reflection, upside down and felt her muscles tighten with desire. Jamie was built like a surfer, broad shoulders and narrow hips, sandy blond hair and a rich golden tan. His eyes stroked her naked torso admiringly, and his dick swelled powerfully in his tight pants.

"Paul has told me a great deal about you," Jamie said. His voice was surprisingly deep.

"I understand you know the technical director," Karen said.

"Fairly well," Jamie admitted cautiously. "He's one of the few people here that treat me and Paul like human beings. Maybe because he's one of the few men in this crew who's certain which way he swings. He doesn't feel threatened by us. The way Sandier does, for example."

"Do you know him well enough to get him to meet me backstage about ten?" Karen asked.

"What's in it for me?" Jamie asked.

"Jamie!" Paul exclaimed.

"No, it's all right," Karen assured the make-up man quickly. "Fair is fair. Because by the time I get done today, this show and all the hot shots in it may be drawing unemployment."

"Won't bother us," Paul noted smugly.

Karen ignored Paul's comment. "Anything you want," she told Jamie. She didn't add that she was horny and immensely attracted to him.

Jamie considered for a moment, then went to the telephone. In a minute he had set up the meeting Karen had requested. He hung up, and turned around. He unlimbered his long, lean hard-on as he came toward her. He waved his dong at her, stroked it. There was a thick drizzle of clear juice. "Anything?" he asked.

"Anything," Karen hissed. Her eyes were on his dick.

"Show him how you swallowed my prick," Paul urged, nudging her with his throbbing cock.

"I'm a cunt man, myself," Jamie observed, unfastening Karen's skirt. Karen lifted her hips and let him drag her last garment down her lush legs and off. She was totally naked now. She bent, her legs and spread her knees, exposing her pink gash and brown snatch. Her inner petals were distended, and formed a pink ruffle in the heart of her muff.

In the mirror, she could see Jamie's eyes burning into her naked crotch.

"Suck me," Paul ordered, grasping her head and thrusting his cock at her face. "Swallow my cock."

Karen let his dick nudge her mouth, then let her lips open. His prick slid slowly into her mouth. The friction brought a quick flow of pre-come. It smeared her tongue as his pocket slid toward her throat.

She felt the chair shuddering and shifting as Jamie adjusted the footrest. She felt his hands on her butt. He lifted her as and slid a cushion under her hips. Paul's prick poked the back of her mouth and she opened her throat to him.

He thrust, and the head of his cock jammed into her gullet. On her back, her head hanging toward the floor, her mouth and throat were in line. He sheathed his dick in her maw. It was like a sword-swallower was putting his weapon away.

"Look," Paul hissed. "Look, Jamie. This is the way to do it. She's got it all, all of it, right down her throat. Watch me fuck her now."