David Crane - Party wife

Jayne Morrison sat on the edge of the bed as she rolled her nylon stockings up her heavy thighs. She never wore tights. Her husband, Jonathon, hated tights. He said they made a woman look like a smooth-crotched, sexless doll – and the last thing that Jayne saw herself as was sexless. She was certainly right about that, as well. She was a gorgeous woman, often compared to the proverbial brick shithouse. Heavy hipped and large breasted, she had a narrow waist – the classic hourglass configuration.

She was naked now, but for the stockings and the black garter belt to which they would be strapped.

She was getting dressed for the office party. Jonathon came to the door of the bedroom and looked in. He was not particularly pleased that his lovely wife was going to a party without him, but he hadn't objected too strongly. It was simply a matter of office policy that the husbands and wives of the employees did not attend the annual party.

He trusted Jayne and wasn't troubled by the thought that she might get in to some hanky panky, he was simply a bit annoyed at having to spend the evening home alone.

He would have preferred to spend the night fucking and sucking with luscious Jayne.

They had only been married for a short time and she had only worked for the Benson Company for a few months, so this was the first office party she would be attending… and the first time she had gone out without Jonathon.

Now he stood at the door and regarded her as she rolled her nylons up her shapely thighs, slowly, as if caressing her legs in the process.

Jonathon grinned and took a deep breath. As usual, his cock began to quiver at the sight of Jayne.

It was a rare man, indeed, whose cock did not respond to the sight of Jayne.

If gold could rust, rusted sold would be the color of her hair, a thick, tawny mane that fell heavily to her shoulders, framing her sensual countenance in curls and coils.

Her eyes were amber, slightly tilted, cat-like. Her mouth was wide and full, her cheekbones high. When she tossed her head, her hair cascaded around her face. Jonathon always found that an erotic movement.

Her tits were large and firm, thrusting upright without need of support, capped by nipples as firm as bullets. She never wore a bra, nor did she need one. Jonathon rather wished she would wear a bra, tonight, since she would be unescorted, but he wasn't even sure if she owned one.

As long as she wore panties…

Thinking of panties, he let his eyes trail down to the part of her ripe body over which those panties would, in due course, be fitted.

Her pubic bush was the same rusty gold as her hair, a thick and luxurious tangle of curls. Her legs were slightly parted as she adjusted the stockings and Jonathon could see her crotch. Her pink slit was wet and open.

His cock hardened some more.

Her hips were wide and full, sweeping sharply in to her narrow waist at the top and flowing down to blend with her heavy thighs below. He could not see her ass at the moment, since she was sitting on it, but he knew full well how nicely the jutting cheeks thrust out like a shelf, and then cut sharply in to the backs of her thighs.

Jayne strapped the garters to the stockings. Looking up, she noticed her husband standing in the doorway, in an attentive attitude.

She smiled.

She arched her back slightly, so that her tits thrust out and her belly drew in. She didn't close her legs. Jayne liked to be admired. She was not vain nor narcissistic, but she had no false modesty – she knew that she was sexy and enjoyed the regard of a man's eyes.

Jonathon's eyes seemed to burn into her velvet flesh, like lasers, branding her.

Touched by his vision, responding to a visual caress, her nipples stiffened and extended and her pussy parted further, the slot filling with cunt juice.

She saw the bulge in the front of his slacks. She tossed her head in that way he always found so stimulating and erotic, smiling at him with her head tilted.

He looked at his watch.

Jayne had intended to take a taxi to the party. They had two cars, but she knew she might have a few drinks during the evening and did not want to risk driving home. Now she said, "If you were to drive me to the office, honey, it would save some time. I wouldn't have to leave so soon…"

"All right," he said.

He was a tall, lean, handsome fellow with casual brown hair and an athletic build. He also, as the lump in his trousers signified, had a whopper of a prick. Jayne had not exactly fallen in love with him because of the magnitude of his member, but she was certainly pleased that he possessed a big cock. It would have been frustrating as hell to fall in love with a man who had a tiny dick, she knew.

Her tongue licked across her lower, lip.

Jonathon advanced towards her, shoulders back, so that he seemed to be following his pelvis.

His prick was fully erect now, struggling to escape from the confines of his clothing.

He stood before her, grinning.

Jayne ran her hand up the inside of his leg.

"I thought I might have to spend the evening beating my meat," he said.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Thinking of you at that party…"

That hint of jealousy thrilled her. She loved to know that her husband did not take her for granted – although she had never cheated on him.

"I was afraid you might take the opportunity to go out looking for a woman," she said.

"With a wife like you? Not likely."

Her hand slid up and cupped his bloated balls, squeezing gently. His cock pushed out like a sword, threatening to rip right through his pants.

"Still," she said. "It might be just as well if I empty your balls before I leave… just to be on the safe side. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, that's a good idea," he said.

Jayne unbuckled his belt.

She unbuttoned the top of his fly and then began to play with the zipper, drawing it down a few inches and then teasingly pulling it up again. But she drew it down a bit farther than she drew it up each time, so that little by little she was moving it towards the bottom.

Jonathon stood still, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed. He had begun to breath heavily and his face was taut with expectation.

His fly was wide open.

Jayne let his trousers drop to his feet. He wore white cotton shorts and the outline of his massive cock bulged against the material, a huge white mound stretching the elastic out from his waist and writhing just before her face. She gazed at that lump, licking her lips. Her eyes, too, were narrowed in expectation.

Jonathon stepped out of his pants, leaving them in a heap at his feet.

Jayne cupped his balls again, squeezing, thrilled at how bloated they were – at how full of spunk. She could feel the hard nuts jiggle inside the hairy sac. Jayne loved jism. She loved to see it spurt out from his cockhead, she loved to feel it on her hands, on her breasts, deep within her cunt or bubbling over her nimble tongue. She loved everything about cum – the taste, the texture, the creamy heat.

As she cupped his balls in one hand, she began to play with his cock with the other, caressing him through his cotton undershorts. Her fingers traced up the fat stalk and she fingered the bulging knob.

Jonathon moaned.

A dark, damp patch appeared on his under pants as the head of his prick began to bubble.

Jayne whimpered.

She pushed her tongue out and touched the pink tip against that damp spot, tasting his jism through the material, as if it were some rare sauce that must be strained through cotton to remove the impurities.

He placed a hand against her cheek.

Jayne ran her tongue up his tackle, starting at his balls and slurping up to the head.