Unknown - Racial swap-night

Eddie Frampton folded his tall but lithe and muscular frame into the brand new Porsche, started the motor, jerked it into reverse gear and rocketed the machine down the drive into the quiet street. Tires squealing and engine reving like mad, he headed toward Manna Avenue and back to the club. The ache in his loins and his feeling of sexual deprivation told him, only too clearly that there was a big void in his married life although in almost every other direction, his life had changed for the better.

Jesus Christ! Alyce looks she'd be the most fabulous lay of the century… that luscious body, it sure fooled me. Why does she just lay there like a sack of flour when I fuck her? She's so Goddamn passive, I feel like I might as well shove my cock into an inflatable doll. It's not normal. She thinks everything but the missionary position is only for perverts. Even with the missionary she just lies there and throws her legs up and waits for me to get it over with.

I better keep my mind on the road, he suddenly realized after just roaring right past a stop sign. But presently his attention was focused back in his groin. Fuck! I've got such an ache in my balls! I don't have to go home for lunch. It would be just as convenient to have it at the club, but I like to see my wife but apparently she isn't that happy to see me.

He let his mind drift back over the little scene he had just gone through.

Still in his tennis gear, the handsome pro bounced into the house, entering the kitchen where Alyce was preparing lunch. He enveloped his wife of three months in a great bear hug, giving her a lingering kiss, hard on her upturned lips, leaning his head down to her and using his tongue to force open her lips to him. The uptight young woman had made this concession to her lusty husband; his desire for what she considered unnecessary sexual contact, especially, in a casual kiss of greeting or goodbye.

The lovely blonde was a little repulsed, but she had decided that it was a small thing for her to do if it was something that Eddie really wanted.

"What's on the menu, darling?" he asked, looking around the kitchen.

"Tuna salad," she said, "we're going to go strictly low calorie around here."

"Sounds great to me," he said, "those five pounds I put on over our honeymoon sure show up when I'm playing. I think it was all those chocolate eclairs for breakfast."

"Yes," she answered with mock sterness, "no more decadence at the table. I don't want this body looking like someone blew me up with a bicycle pump."

"I'd like to pump you right now," he leered at her in a suggestive manner.

His hands made suggestive motions down her back, as he smoothed them across her buttocks, reveling in their firm protuberance, cupping the rounded mounds of them in his huge hand and pulling her pelvis in hard to his now stiffening prick beneath his neat white tennis shorts.

Alyce could feel the warmth and the bulging, warm firmness at his crotch, and she knew that he wanted her. She could hardly stand the thought of having sex in the middle of the day and she knew that he felt that it was an added extra with his lunch break.

"Don't you have a group at one o'clock," she asked hopefully. "I mean you won't have time."

"Baby, I've always got time for a good fuck. We could go right over there by the sink and I could stick it in you while you're washing the lettuce."

The handsome tennis pro gave his wife a playful slap on the ass, as she turned to the counter to begin serving the lunch she had prepared for them.

Ignoring his lewd comments she said, "It's almost ready you'd better wash up, Eddie."

The sway of her hips, as she walked away from him, held his attention, his eyes riveted on her, watching the undulating flesh inside the jeans, mentally undressing her and he liked what he saw. That was the reason he had finally married. This woman seemingly had everything.

"I wish it was your cunt I was eating instead!"

Alyce shot him a look back over her shoulder at him. She saw her husband's lust-filled eyes, as he watched her, and she wished that she could learn how to handle Eddie's sexually suggestive innuendoes and lewd interjections.

She turned away from her husband, embarrassed, in spite of herself, the beginnings of a frown creasing her lovely face as Eddie left the kitchen and headed for the bathroom.

The things he says! That look of his when he wants to make love to me, which I think he wants twenty-four hours a day, is pure lust! It's pure animal lust and it makes me feel crawly and dirty. I wish I could learn to understand it, to respond to his lewd demands, or any rate to reply without blushing to his comments.

The blonde wife finished setting the table and called him to the table. They ate the meal together, she somewhat bird-like only pecking at the food but Eddie ate ravenously as athletes will. His appetite always seemed to match his size but she knew that he was inclined to pack away a little too much sometimes so she was cutting down on the calories. A fat tennis pro was not exactly an asset and even though he burned up a lot of energy on the courts it wasn't quite enough to match his sweet tooth so she had decided to restrict his intake of fattening foods.

Eddie gobbled up his tasty tuna salad, sighed contentedly and reached for his wife.

"Since there's no sweets at the table I think I'd like you for dessert."

The exquisite blonde had just risen from the table, and she moved to escape him, trying to pick up some dishes from the table as a distraction. He rose, swooped and captured her easily holding her immobile in a vise-like grip, the dishes tailing back to the table with a clatter. His lips sought hers and he kissed her hard and long. Finally, she placed both her hands on his chest and pushed him away from her.

"Come on, baby, give me a little bit."

"Eddie, please it's the middle of the day. It just doesn't seem right somehow."

"Right. If it feels right what does the time have to do with it. I want to fuck. I'm not going to wait for the darkness."

"Well… I do feel better about it… at night, darling."

Undiscouraged, he again bent his head down to her, capturing her full lips and he was kissing her long and passionately, probing her mouth with his tongue, his hands busy on her body, exploring the womanly curves of her, kneading and caressing her, trying to communicate his great need of her through action.

The big man's fingers found the zipper on her jeans. Fearfully she heard the scraping whisper of the fastener as he opened it and the garment fell with a sigh of the material, sliding down over the swell of her hips to land in gathers around her trim ankles. She broke the kiss pulling her head back to one side.

"Eddie! What will our neighbors think?"

"The neighbors! Do you think that they have nothing better to do than to watch us?" he said, vehemently, as he dipped his hands under the elastic waistband of her panties to grasp a smoothly rounded buttock cheek in either hand.

She persisted. "But what if someone did see us through the window without our clothes in the middle of the day. Eddie, it just wouldn't be right."

Desperate to convince her he continued with greater emphasis, "Listen, we're husband and wife and this is our home. I'll do what I want in it and when I want to. No one's going to stop me. Why are you so concerned what other people think? It's our life, not theirs so why don't you just get over yourself."

Then, with a deft movement he pushed her panties down over the smooth, rounded curves of her buttocks, and the wisp of nylon joined her jeans at her ankles. The clasp of her bra occupied his attention only momentarily. He flung the garments from her, and she stood, nude, statuesque and magnificent in the middle of the kitchen, leaning into his tanned arms, pliant and unresisting.