Peter Jensen - The Virgin Couple

“Oh God, Oh God!” Barry groaned, grinding his pelvis into her savagely, feeling the pliant warm flesh beneath as she strained to meet his pounding jerks, until her loins were inches off the bed. He angled his hips and drove into her, trying to establish a rhythm. She breathed a mewling sound incessantly, lifting her body to meet his forward attack, opening and closing her legs about his hips as she labored frantically to climb his solid pole, her head rocking from side to side in the abandoned supplication to their fornication.

“000hhhhhh, Barry you feel so good! So good!“ She whimpered in his ear and then licked his lips, his nose, his eyes. “Yes, yes, yccccccssssss!“

Kim gave another gasp and screwed herself tighter to his penis, until it sunk to her soft fleshy depths completely. He worked around and around in her, feeling the muscular ridges of her vagina around his smooth sliding cock, his tempo ever increasing. His shaft continued to surge like a wild beast on a rampage until he was sure it was going to split down the seam, and the intoxicating pressure in his balls was enough to send him screaming. Oh God, surely he was going to reach his orgasm soon, for surely he couldn’t hold back much longer! He increased his speed and stroke, drubbing into her savagely as his balls whacked against her unturned thighs.

She held him tightly in her strong legs, clamping her calves crablike around his hips, only to slacken them for a second and then clamp harder. She began to babble incoherently which he knew to be a sign she was approaching her own climax and then spurred him on with powerful long strokes. Her knees drew up as she raised herself even more fully to his battering attack, and her moist splayed vagina bucked wildly against his ramming penis and she rode his cock wantonly as though she never wanted to cease.

“Ooooooohhhhhhh… OhhhhhhGoddddd, I’m I’m… going to… going to…

Cuummm!“ With a sudden, deep throated groan, Kim began to vibrate uncontrollably; and then Barry, too, released his own dammed up passion. His cum churned through his boiling balls, up through the tube of his expanded cock, and surged into his wife’s wildly clasping cunt. He shoved his tongue harder into her mouth and cupped the globoid cheeks of her firm white ass closer around his pumping penis, as he beat a wild tattoo against her with his still emptying testicles. Kim wailed into his mouth, her questing thighs jerking spasmodically against his belly while he discharged his overwhelming load of sperm violently into her. Finally, be collapsed across her, his sigh of contentment mingling with her own mewlings of gratification.

As sanity returned to him, Barry edged his body off his wife and rolled over.

Kim, almost asleep, kissed him lightly on the cheek, curled herself up in a child-like fetus position. He put the covers over her, and for a moment before sleep overtook him, Barry thought of her tenderly. In spite of her few Victorian hang-ups about oral sex, she was still pretty good in bed, he had to admit. As good as most women he’d had. He stared at Kim, trying to imagine her as a strange woman he had just finished fucking, fucking for the sake of fucking and not out of love. Like Lynn, for example, that beautiful creature belonging to Jack Goren, that sensual, enticing all-woman. My God, he could just see her in bed, hungrily sucking his cock, naked and wild with prurience and desire, making love for its own-licentious sake. No… no, why was he thinking like this. What would it accomplish? Besides, he could almost imagine the hurt Kim would feel if she knew of his lewd thoughts… and the outrage it would cause the Gorens, for that matter. He groaned and turned over, shutting off the bedside lamp and plunging the room into darkness.

Kim woke him with a sweet, tender kiss the next morning. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at his wife, who held a bathrobe around her, and then he smiled, stretched his arms and yawned.

“Morning, honey,” she said. “Want some coffee?”

Barry nodded, turned over and put his face to the pillow. “MMmmmmm,” he murmured in a sleep-filled voice. Kim, by moving up from the bed, let the sunlight from the open window stream across his body, warming it beneath the covers. He dozed again until she reappeared.

“You overslept, baby,” she said. “It’s nearly nine.”

Barry suddenly sprang awake. “What?”

“If you plan to get any writing done, you’d better start pretty soon. You know what Saturdays are like around here. I should have called you, but I lost track of the time myself.”

Barry gulped some of the coffee she had brought, then jumped out of bed, all thought of resting there gone. He hurriedly dressed, walked out to the kitchen where Kim was scrambling some eggs. He sat at the dinette and watched her lithe young form as she moved gracefully around in the flower-design bathrobe. Her bare legs were still tanned from the summer sun, and they were beautiful enough to not need stockings, he thought; even her small feet, not normally a beautiful or appealing part of anybody’s anatomy, were cute to him. He ate the eggs and toast when she served them, and even talked a little. Usually conversation was a matter of grunts in the morning, neither of them very good at being friendly after just rising, but the coffee helped this morning, as well as the lovemaking of the night before. Sex was all important to a marriage; they both agreed to that. Again, he had another momentary flash of imagining Jack Goren’s wife in the bed with him, and not his wife, but Barry quickly dispelled the idea from his mind as totally unthinkable.

Writing was impossible. Barry retired to the study, rolled a fresh sheet of yellow foolscap into the IBM electric typewriter, and stared at the keys. No bursts of inspiration came to him. He reread the few pages he had so laboriously salvaged from the previous week’s efforts, made a face as he read them, and then looked back at the virgin sheet. At this rate, he was going to collect social security when he finished the novel, he thought disgustedly; and with a rush of anger, he tore the sheet from the machine, balled it up and threw it into the overflowing wastepaper basket.

Somebody started to cut his lawn down the block, and the gas engine of the mower made a tremendous racket. The man across the street added to the disturbance by starting up a power saw to cut down the limbs of an old oak tree in his front yard. Barry remembered the noise from two days previous when the neighbor had started the project. He finished his coffee morosely and walked out to the kitchen for a fresh cup. He waited, knowing full well he was procrastinating, as he heated the pot on the stove.

Kim had dressed in a pair of black stretch pants and a white frilly blouse. The blouse was sheer enough to see through, and her bra molded her breasts like mountain peaks through fog. She was in the laundry room, sorting the clothes for washing. Barry knew that at twelve she was going to start the washing machine.

“Must you?” he said out loud.

“What?” Kim, not knowing to what he was referring, looked up, startled. “You mean the washing? No, baby, I don’t. Of course we won’t have any clean clothes next week.” Barry realized he had snapped at her for no good reason. “I’m sorry, honey, I’m just upset. First I’m late getting started today, and now all the racket…“ He sighed and drank some coffee. “I’ve got to get away some place.”

“I know,” Kim sympathized.

“Up to Tahoe or down to Aptos or some place where I can go just like it was an office and I had a regular job. That’s what I need: a ritual, a regular schedule like I had at the Sentinel.”

Kim had heard it all before, but she nodded in agreement, knowing full well how futile the idea was with their meager savings. As she turned back to her chore with the clothes, she thought about the week’s food, and how to cut down on the cost a little more. Hamburger instead of roast beef, hot dogs and casseroles and no deserts…