David Crane - Three horny wives

Jennifer was filled with a renewed thrill as she realized that, by proxy, she was drinking Bob Harrison's cum – drinking it out of his wife's cunt.

Colleen came, whimpering.

But her orgasm did nothing to slake her thirst for cunt juice nor her hunger for pussy and, despite her climax, she continued to suck on Carol's crotch, her lips spread around the box like a suction cup clamped to a wall, held fast by the vacuum of her desire.

Jennifer slurped away until she was sure that she had swallowed every precious drop of that sweet, delicious joy juice.

Now it was time to get her own box drained again.

She gave Colleen's pussy a final, loving slurp then moved up the bed and threw her knees across Carol's upturned face. Carol sighed with happy expectation. Her mouth opened, like a baby bird waiting to be fed. Her hot tongue came out, lapping at the air. Jennifer slowly settled her cunt down onto that questing tongue and over those unfurled lips.

Carol creamed in Colleen's eager mouth.

A second later, she renewed the bodily fluids she had spilled as, gulping voraciously, she drank the heavy flood from Jennifer's pussy.

Drinking Jennifer's cum, Carol felt herself coming again, her orgasm following only seconds upon the one before, so that Colleen, sucking away so attentively, did not even realize that she was drinking a second load, but thought that it was the same climax, prolonged, that wracked Carol's loins.

Her chin thrust out like a shelf as she ravenously sucked all the pussy juice up and swallowed it down. It seemed as if an eternal spring were flowing from Carol's cunt as she went off like a machine gun, burst after burst, her creamy discharge coming in an extended rope. It seemed as if Carol, refilling herself from Jennifer's flooded gash, was going to come forever. As soon as her own loins emptied, she renewed her vigor, quaffing up a new load of nectar from Jennifer.

Carol wanted to come forever.

She sucked furiously on the juicy bowl that was pulsating in her upturned face, hoping that Jennifer would come and come and come so that she, in turn, could come endlessly.

But then Jennifer moaned, her loins drained.

She slipped away, collapsing on the bed.

Carol was so hot that for a moment she did not realize that the feast had been taken from her and she continued to tongue and suck at the empty air.

Then she settled down to work off the terminal spasms of her own climax.

She tilted her pelvis up, like a chalice from which Colleen was drinking. Colleen went up with her, fairly inhaling her cunt juice as it poured forth. Then Carol, too, was drained and she sank back, trembling, while greedy Colleen finished up by licking the bowl clean.

All three good neighbors satisfied, for the moment, cuddled together on the bed, smiling happily, sighing, gazing lovingly at one another.

No one's cunt was hot at the moment, but they had gotten into this pussy sucking so deeply that any one of the three was more than willing to go down on either of the others again… more than willing. They were all eager, for although cunts could be temporarily satiated, the hunger for cunt was constant. It was an emotional lust, rather than a physical need, and they regarded one another with open speculation, wondering who would be the next to get horny and require some loving tongue.

Colleen, gently feeling Jennifer's fat tit, said, "When shall we go to town?"

"Friday will be a good day," said Carol. "Morgan and Fred usually have a boys' night out."

"What about Bob?" said Jennifer. "Maybe you can get him to go with them, Colleen."

"I'm sure he'd love to but we… we don't have much money."

"You're forgetting, you're our landlady now," said Carol. "I guess we'd better pay our first month's rent, eh, Jennifer?"

"Yes, of course," said Jennifer.

"Okay, so Friday night it is!" said Carol.

And then, excited once more because their plans were definite now, the three horny wives got squirmy and wriggly and did a little titty sucking which led, in turn, to another cluster suck.

It was a memorable day for the suburban residents of Blackheath.

Jennifer, Carol and Colleen had entered in to a lesbian alliance. Never again would they have to spend a day in a state of frustration, for among the three of them there would surely be an avid tongue available at any given time.

Colleen had the added bonus of respite from her financial problems and Carol and Jennifer had made definite plans to seek strange dick.

And, even as the three over-sexed wives were sucking each other off with gusto, the husbands were being less than chaste and faithful.

Fred Foley was putting the pork to his secretary.

Morgan Davis was getting his cock sucked in a dingy bar storeroom.

But what of Bob Harrison?

Bob Harrison, that lazy young fellow with little ambition, was selling electric blenders from door to door. It wasn't lucrative work, but he enjoyed it.

He liked walking in the open air and he liked meeting people, whether he made a sale or not.

This afternoon he met a remarkable person. He was going from apartment to apartment in a rather run-down tenement, without success. He wasn't discouraged, for such was not his nature, but he was not hopeful of making a sale. Still, he intended to call on every apartment faithfully.

He rang the bell of apartment 3B.

A woman opened the door. She was wearing a man's white shirt with long tails and nothing beneath. Her bare legs were shapely. The top three buttons of the shirt were unfastened and Bob could see her deep cleavage.

"Hi," he said.

She peered at him suspiciously. She was a redhead, her hair tumbling in coils and ringlets around her face. She had a wide mouth with a full lower lip and she wore false eyelashes.

"Who the fuck are you?" she said.

"I'm selling electric blenders," he said.

"Oh, shit."

"Not interested?"

"Naw. What the fuck do I want with an electric blender? I ain't got nothing to blend in the fucker. Shit."

"Sorry," he said.

He was about to retreat but she showed no inclination to close the door.

"Don't have a slice of bread, even. Got no money to buy a loaf of bread, you want to sell me a blender."

"Oh," said Bob.

She said, "It's the landlord's fault."

"Pardon me," Bob said, willing to chat.

"The landlord. Slumlord. The geezer that owns this fucking tenement! It's his fault. See, he let me move in here and I don't have to pay no rent, which is just as well since I ain't got no money. So the landlord comes round once a week and I give him a fuck – or sometimes a suck – instead of paying rent. So I figured that was okay. But now that I'm here, I'm trapped. Got no money to move out, you see. And he don't want me to move out, neither, ugly as he is."

"Is he ugly! Fat and sweats a lot. Always got dog shit on his shoes. Anyhow, he comes round once a week and he brings a big box of groceries. So I got enough to last me until next week. Except this week I ran short. Had quite an appetite this week. That varies, depending on whether I have to give the landlord a fuck or suck, you know? Lots of calories in cun. Anyhow it's a hell of a situation."

"Em… can't you get a job?"

"Naw."

"Welfare?"

"I get my principles. Anyhow, I can't leave the house, on account of I got no clothes. I only had one dress when I moved in and the landlord took it. He left me this shirt. I don't even have no fucking underwear," she said.

She proved the truth of that statement.

She lifted the tail of the white shirt and Bob found himself looking at a burning bush, her bright-red pubic hair spread lavishly across her white loins.

"You seem to be in difficulty," Bob said.

His cock had quivered a bit at the sight of that big, hairy cunt, for he was a potent fellow quite capable of getting an instant hard-on despite all the spunk that he poured into his bride every morning and night.