Peter Jensen - The Virgin Couple

She was really something, he thought admiringly. She exuded pure animal sex, like a kind of miasma encompassing her invisibly as she walked, moved, spoke.

What he’d, like to do, really like to do, would be to reach out at this moment and take her in his arms, kiss her, love her up a little… oh, not anything more than that, he wouldn’t fuck her or anything, but Lord it would be nice to kiss those soft red lips, caress those hot-looking white breasts, tweak the nipples into rock-hardness, take each one in his mouth and roll it around and around his tongue.

He felt his cock jerk into sudden, instant rigidity, as if it were alive, as if it were straining for release from its cloth prison. He tried to will it limp again, to banish the lewd thoughts swirling in his mind, but it remained throbbingly blood swollen Guiltily, his eyes went to Lynn’s face.

She was looking at the bulge in his pants.

And she was smiling with half-parted lips and fervid eyes.

“Why, Barry!” she said in mock surprise, mock reproof. “Whatever were you thinking about to have that happen now?”

“I… well, I…“ he stuttered. Lynn laughed deep in her throat.

“Lynn, I… I’m sorry, it’s just that I…“ he faltered.

“I know what it is,” she whispered. “I know why you have a hard-on, Barry.”

His breath quickened at her vernacular term. “You… you do?”

“You have a hard-on because you want to fuck me,” she said. “That’s right, isn’t it, Barry? You do want to fuck me, don’t you?”

“Oh God!” he managed to breathe. His prick seemed to be palpitating wildly in his pants now, and his brain reeled. Had he heard correctly? Yes, yes, of course he had. But why was Lynn talking to him like that? What was the matter with her? Oh Christ, he could feel his balls begin to ache from the pressure of his gathering sperm; he really needed it, he really did, and Lynn Goren talking to him like that wasn’t helping matters any. Didn’t she know what might happen, saying obscene words like that to a man? Didn’t she know? He took another long swallow of his Ouzo, and found that his hand was trembling slightly.

She leaned close to him, and he could feel her breath on his cheek, like the scorching heat of a white-hot firebrand. She touched his knee, lightly, but her fingers seemed to sear right through the cloth. “Well, Barry?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to fuck me? Wouldn’t you really?”

“Lynn… Christ, Lynn, cut it out! I’m only human…

“And so am I, Barry dear. So am I,” she purred on. “My cunt is on fire right now. And the only thing that can put out that fire is a big, hard cock. You have a big, hard cock, Barry. I can tell you do.”

And she reached out and touched the throbbing bulge.

He almost leapt off the couch in a convulsing reaction to the electrical shock of her touch on his sensitive penis, encased though it was. Lynn stroked it lightly, tantalizingly, sliding closer to him as he tried to pull back, increasing the rhythm of her strokes. Her breasts pressed hotly, softly against his arm, and her lips found his jaw line, traced a pattern, upward along his cheek and then over to search for his mouth. Her tongue trailed a path of liquid fire along the skin of his face as her hand continued to rub his already uncomfortably swollen prick.

“Lynn… please, for Christ’s sake!”

“You want to fuck me, don’t you?” Lynn repeated, droning the words in an almost mesmeric voice, like a hypnotist practicing her art on an unwilling but nonetheless hypnotizable subject. “You want to fuck me, Barry, you want to tuck me.”

“No, I… no!… oh Jesus, yes, yes, yes yes yes yes!“

He couldn’t help himself. The words tore from his throat, in a strangled kind of whisper that he scarcely recognized, and then his mouth was grinding against hers, his tongue was flailing deep, deep into her mouth. Lynn’s hand began to move faster on his turgid prick, and she sucked and nibbled at his tongue, swirling her own tongue around and around his, darting it into his mouth and then drawing it back to accept the onslaught of his probing member. As if with a will of its own, Barry’s left hand came up and found her breast, squeezed and kneaded the flesh momentarily, then dipped inside the orange halter to draw the garment down and away, exposing her nude breast with its fiery nipple and dark brown areola. He could feel the wetness from the seminal fluid which seeped from the gland on the hardening tip of his prick as she continued to massage him with a practiced thoroughness until he thought the head would surely erupt.

And then, suddenly, with his finger kneading the resilient flesh of her magnificent tits and his cock jerking almost out of control, the full impact of what he was doing struck Barry’s mind like a mailed fist.

My God! he thought wildly. No, this is wrong, all wrong, I’m a married man, a happily married man… this Li wrong, it’s sick, Jesus… what would Kim say?

What would she say if she could see what was happening right now, my hand on another woman’s breast and that woman’s hand stroking and rubbing my cock… I can’t go through with it, I just can’t.

The guilt was so strong within him that he wrenched violently away from Lynn, pulling his mouth from hers, turning his body so that her hand left his bulging lap. His face was flushed a brilliant crimson-partially from shame and partially from his intense arousal. Re averted his eyes, looking at the far wall, breathing deeply, raggedly.

“What’s the matter, lover?” Lynn asked casually beside him, and then, with full feminine perception: “You’re having an attack of conscience, aren’t you? You’re thinking about your wife.”

“Y-yes,” Barry managed to answer. “What what are we doing… what we were leading up to… Christ, Lynn, it was crazy, it was all wrong.”

“Was it?” she asked.

“Yes… of course…

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Yes… yes.”

“You want to fuck me as much as I want you to fuck me,” she teased in that droning voice of hers. “You know it and I know it. So why pretend any different, Barry?”

“Jesus, Lynn!“

“It’s purely a physical matter,” she continued. “You want to get into my soft, wet pussy, and I want your big cock inside me. That’s all,” her lewd words floated across to his mind. I love my wife.”

“Sure you do. And I love my husband. But that doesn’t have anything to do with us, with here and now, with fucking.”

No, no, I don’t want to hear any more! Barry thought with gathering panic. It’s wrong, it’s wrong, but what she says is true in some ways, you don’t have to love a woman to want to fuck her… but no, damn it, no, I can’t do it!

He jumped up from the couch, standing with his back to Lynn, staring at the wall again. His heart hammered violently in his chest, and he was aware that his prick was still granite-hard in his pants, that it was still seeping hot droplets of lubrication. But he had to compose himself, find a way to get Lynn to leave, or better yet to leave himself, to get far, far away from her and to hell with the goddamned novel…

Lynn’s voice whispered huskily behind him, “Barry, lover.”

He turned, gathering his courage to say what had to be said, but when he saw her the words froze in his throat. His mouth hinged open, and his eyes seemed to bulge goiter-like.

She stood before him completely nude.

She had unhooked the halter and stepped out of the brief shorts; the articles of clothing made a puddle of brilliantine color on the bare floor at her feet.

She stood with her legs spread wide apart, her head and shoulders pulled back, her hands knuckled provocatively on her proud, bronzed hips. She was smiling at him with her mouth parted, her teeth slightly bared, the tip of her wet, pink tongue showing. The wet, petal like, hair-lined lips of her vagina were presented to his eyes like an Aztec virgin on a sacrificial altar, waiting for a huge, plunging weapon to stab into her. The brown triangular bush of her pubic triangle glistened lewdly in the pale afternoon light. Her high, perfectly rounded breasts, startling alabaster white against the deep tan of her other parts, jutted out like twin, inviting rub-crested mountain peaks, waiting to be climbed, asking to be conquered. Her legs, so long, so slender, so satiny smooth-looking at their inner thighs, were moist with the flowing juices of her passion flowered cuntal mouth.