John Friday - Cuffed and whipped wife

Her husband had not been gone an hour, but Lanore Giliman was horny again already. He had fucked her twice just before leaving for work, but that wasn't enough. Lanore could never get enough.

She loved her husband dearly, but loved good hot sex even more. She remembered her first fuck with Gill, her husband.

Gill was four years older than her and a lot wiser. He had pulled her panties down and fingered her cunt on the first try and fucked her on the second. Gill had popped her cherry and bloodied her golden-haired pussyhole with nine solid inches of steel-hard cock.

Lanore had loved it that first time. He had married her after two weeks and twenty more times in her lusciously hot and insatiable cunt. They splurged on a honeymoon trip to Hawaii, but that was a waste of money. They only went to the beach once.

Gill spent the rest of the week there fucking his sexy young wife almost non-stop. They fucked in bed, they fucked in the bathtub they fucked on the balcony of their hotel room overlooking the sea.

They once went for a moonlight cruise on a catamaran and even managed to fuck there.

Lanore hiked up her skirt and sat on Gill's lap, working his stiff cock into her cunt beneath the cover of her dress.

It was wildly exciting for her to be fucking with the other passengers watching, even though they didn't know what was going on.

And Gill's cock wrenched violently inside hr whenever the boat swayed. Lanore gasped cries of delight the whole three hours they were aboard, and those watching thought it was sailing that excited her so.

She writhed now on their king-sized bed, enjoying the feel of the satin sheet beneath her ripe body. Moaning sounds of restless desire, Lanore slid her hands down to her slender waist, then down to the richly furred hump of her pussy mound.

She parted the soft pink lips of her cunt with the fingers of her left hand. Then she teased her right middle finger around the nub of her clit, joyously recalling that wonderful week in Hawaii.

Lanore plunged her middle finger into her tight cunt. Her pussy was hot and wet with fuck honey and still slick with Gill's cum. She fucked her finger in and out with blurring speed and whirled her cunt with her thumb. She gasped, quickly reaching a climax of sorts.

"I need a man's cock!" Lanore moaned. "God damn it, Gill! Why can't you be here when I need to fuck?"

She knew why, but that didn't help in her horny state of mind. Gill was a security guard, working the four-to-midnight shift at a local electronics plant. And he wouldn't be home for eight long hours.

"I just can't wait that long!" Lanore cried softly. "I've got to feel a big throbbing cock inside of me now, and I don't care whose it is!"

Lanore felt a twinge of guilt as soon as she said it. She had never been unfaithful to Gill before and had not thought she would? But the anxious blonde had never been this horny with so long to wait for the man she loved. Her mind was torn between conscience and the steaming heat of rampant desire.

Finger fucking herself had only made things worse, but what could she do about it? Gill had taken their only car and hadn't left her enough cash for cab fare. There was no bus service in their suburban neighborhood, so she couldn't go anywhere.

Lanore thought about some of the neighbors.

Al Freeman who lived next door on the left came first to mind. He was in his late thirties with dark wavy hair just starting to gray. Lanore grinned and said to herself, "He'd be a great one to fuck!"

She could hear the power mower running in front of Al's house and knew he was outside working. She also knew he was happily married to a gorgeous raven-haired beauty who used to be a Vegas chorus girl.

And, to make matters worse, Al and Gill were good friends. They played poker in a neighborhood group one night a week, went fishing together when they had the same days off. Al would never fuck the wife of his friend, she decided bleakly.

Then, like a cartoon character with a light bulb gleaming in a bubble over the head, an idea flashed through Lanore's sex-obsessed mind. What man can resist a woman in distress? she asked herself. Certainly not Al Freeman. And, if he could be made to think that Gill isn't the adoring husband be appears to be.

Lanore rolled off the bed and pulled open a dresser drawer, looking for her sexiest black underwear – a pair of lace-trimmed bikini panties with the crotch cut out, and a strapless under-wire bra that made her creamy big tits bulge even more invitingly.

She put those on and then went to the bedroom closet. Gill kept an extra duty belt there, and in one of the black leather pouches she found what she wanted – a pair of handcuffs.

The blonde put one locking band around her slender left wrist and clicked it shut, snug but not too tight. Then she put both hands behind her back and snapped on the right cuff the same way.

"Hungh." She pulled to test their restraint. "Good, I can't slip them off."

Grinning like a hungry cat in a canary cage. Lanore walked to the front of the house and looked out a window that faced Al's yard. It was high enough so he would only be able to see her head and shoulders from the outside.

But, she discoid to dismay, two hands cuffed behind her back, there was no way to open the window and call to him. Lanore raged in frustration and finally banged her forehead against the glass when Al and the mower were headed her way.

Seeing him made Lanore even more anxious than before. She almost knocked her head through the glass.

Al was wearing a pair of shorts that showed the well-defined muscles of his long legs.

He glanced up. Lanore pleaded, "Help me!" with greatly exaggerated movement of her sensuous lips.

Al stopped the mower and came running.

"Lanore, what's the matter?" The front door was locked and he couldn't get in.

With her hands cuffed behind her, Lanore could not reach high enough to release the latch from the inside. "There's a door key taped under the mailbox," she called to him. "Let yourself in, Al. I need help!"

The straining heat of wanton desire made her cry frightfully convincing. Al Freeman found the key, unlocked the door and burst in with a worried look on his face. He gaped at her and said, "My God, what happened? Did someone attack you after Gill left?"

"No," she sobbed. "He did this to me. Gill's afraid that I might fool around with another man while he's at work!"

"That son of a bitch!" Al went behind her and studied the cuffs. "Damn, I don't see how we can get those off without a key."

"He takes that with him," she moaned, "and I can't stand this anymore! Leaving me in my underwear with my hands cuffed like a common criminal!"

"There, there… we'll think of something. Those cuffs are hardened steel, it would take hours to cut them off. Maybe I should call Gill at work and tell him to bring that damn key here right now!"

"Oooh, no! Don't do that," she begged tearfully. "He'd beat me worse than ever if he knows I told anyone." Her pillow soft tits heaved with each wracking sob, almost bulging out of the low-cut black bra.

"Wh-what do you mean, beat you worse than ever?" Al asked, moving around to face her again.

He put his strong hands on her quaking shoulders and tried to calm her, but his eyes drifted down to that deep soft cleft between her luscious tits.

"Gill likes to whip me with a leather belt," she lied with a sorrowful look. "He thinks I cheat on him, so he punishes me! And I haven't done a thing to deserve it!"

"I know, I know." Al hugged her and felt her pussy mound as it rubbed his groin and made his cock ache. He tried to control, its throbbing, but that was like trying to hold back the tide.