David Crane: Three horny wives

But it was merely a fanciful thought…

Jennifer's cunt was still smoldering.

She decided that she would simply have to masturbate. She didn't like to rub herself off, it seemed a terrible waste to yield an orgasm to her own hands, but the alternative was to suffer through the day with a terrible need in her simmering pussy. She loved to feel sexually excited – but only when there was satisfaction in the offing.

Nothing made her more excited than milking a dick and nothing frustrated her more than sucking off a cock without getting anything in return.

Feeling resentful toward her husband again, she went back to the bedroom.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror, regarding herself. She opened the negligee and thrust her tits-out. The pink nipples were stiff and tingling. Dropping the gown, she turned, and, looking over her shoulder, admired the shapely contours of her well-packed, heart-shaped ass.

She licked her lips. The succulent flavor of Fred's cum lingered on her taste buds.

She turned through a full circle, looking over her shoulder to admire her ass and the backs of her smooth thighs, switching her hips from side to side. Facing front, she cupped her big tits together and lifted them, molding the cleavage deep and upright. She passed a hand over her softly rounded belly and let her fingers trail through the dark pubic thicket.

She humped her belly out in a fucking motion. She bent her knees and parted her thighs so that she could see the juicy crack of her cunt between her legs.

Cupping her tits again, she ran her thumbs across the nipples like windshield wipers, trembling at the sensation. Then she lowered her chin to her breastbone and pushed her tongue out. She lifted her tits in her hand. She began to lick her stiff nipples, alternating between them, and took them in her red lips and sucked them gently.

She liked to suck her own tits. Someday, she thought, she would like to suck some other girl's tits, just to see what it felt like. She pulled on the taut nuggets and loved the way they exploded between her lips.

Her cunt gushed with juice. She wished that she were able to suck it herself. She had often tried to do that, lying on the bed and throwing her legs over her head, her knees pressed to her tits while she bent her back in a deep bow and stuck her tongue out as far as it would go. But she could not quite make contact. With her neck straining almost to breaking point and her tongue pushing out so far that it hurt at the root she was only able to lick at her pubic bush and fell an inch short of her clit.

It was frustrating to be so close and yet so far from the juicy love box. She knew that it would be wonderful to suck her own twat, and probably taste wonderful too. But now she knew there would be no use trying. Her failure would only serve to frustrate her more.

The only way she was ever going to get to suck a pussy was if the pussy was between some other girl's legs.

Jennifer found that thought very exciting. She was certainly no lesbian but she was very erotic and she had a pretty good idea that sucking a cunt would be a thrill. Someday, she thought, she would simply have to give it a try. She would like to sixty-nine with another woman, she thought, getting it as she gave it and maybe pretend that she was sucking herself… or maybe not, depending on how the act worked out.

She would like to have Fred there right now, to watch her rub her cunt and then slap the prong to her when she was whining and gasping for it.

She pushed her belly out and touched it against her reflected belly in the looking glass. She ground her hips and ass around as if she were molded to the other woman's body, rubbing her cunt on the mirror cunt, leaving a smear of cunt juice on the glass. She was absolutely glowing with lust. She stuck her tongue out and slipped it along her full lower lip, pretending she was sucking a cunt. She lapped at the air pretending that she was laying a pecker, then she pushed her fingers into her mouth and sucked on them, imagining they were a dick.

She pushed a saliva-moistened finger up her asshole and wriggled sensuously on it. She was dazed by her passion now. Sucking Fred off with no return had aroused her to a true state of desperate sexual need. She thought about Fred, that is, she though about his cock.

Then she thought about sucking cocks – any cocks – and licking cunts and fucking and taking it up the ass and writhing in the midst of a dozen horny men as they jousted for the three positions available in her sweating heaving body, taking turns slipping the pork to her cunt, ass and mouth, one after the other, until she was so full of cum that she swelled like a balloon.

All these thoughts did nothing, of course, to cool the ardor in her crotch. She began to rub her clit. She massaged the throbbing nugget with her palm and rubbed it between her thumb and fingers, until it was incandescent with passion. She moved away from the mirror, and stretched out on the bed. Holding her cunt lips spread open with the fingers of one hand, she finger-fucked herself slowly with all four fingers of her other hand, while her thumb swept back and forth across her tingling carnal button.

She brought her juicy fingers to her mouth and sucked on them, tasting her own cunt juice. It tasted just fine, she thought. She would certainly have to find a suckable cunt in the near future, to satisfy her curiosity, if nothing else.

She brought her hand back to her pussy and started finger-fucking and thumbing her love-bud again. With the other hand she fingered her taut asshole, pushing her middle finger up the tight hole and wriggling it about.

She couldn't decide how to pleasure herself. She wanted everything at the same time – cunt, clit, nipples, asshole – all cried out for attention.

She slid from the bed and went to the bathroom, fingering her cunt as she went.

She turned on the shower and adjusted the spray to narrow jets of warm water. Leaning against the back of the shower stall, she hiked her belly up and opened her legs and got positioned just right so that the warm jet hosed her clitoris.

Oh, that was nice.

She cupped her tits in one hand, lifting them one at a time as she lowered her head, chin to her breastbone, and commenced to suck on her nipples.

She pushed her finger up her asshole. Positioned there in the shower stall, reaming her asshole, sucking her nipples and squirming as the jet of hot water shot directly onto her flaming love-bud, she figured she was in as good a situation as she could get in her solitude.

She began to tremble, appearing to vibrate and rattle as the thrill coursed through her.

Then she came like a series of dynamite sticks going off one after the other through her loins.

Pretending that the spray from the showerhead was a jet of spunk from a cock-head, she melted with the thrill.

She slumped, sliding down the wall and, for a few moments, she lay there, panting. Then she smiled dreamily.

She got up on weak knees and turned the shower off.

She felt a lot better than she had – not as good as if she'd been properly fucked, but better than being frustrated.

Jennifer thought that it was a damn good thing that if a woman had a husband who worked too hard to be passionate at home she always had the alternative of masturbation.

But if the neglected sex-pot had known exactly what sort of work was keeping her husband so exhausted lately, she would have been bitter, indeed.

Ned Foley had a new secretary.

Like their wives, Fred Foley and Morgan Davis were close enough friends to discuss sexual themes. Sexual themes, in fact were what they discussed most of the time. Sometimes they talked about baseball or poker and sometimes they spoke of their work, but mainly, when they talked, they talked of pussy.