James Evers - Hungry wives

"Harder! Harder! Deeper! Oh God, it's coming! Coming! Harder! Haaaaardeeeeeeeer!"

Her tempo matched his, her head bobbing with every screaming syllable, her fingers molding his balls as she pushed him to the limit of his passions. And all the time, one thought and one thought only stormed in her perverted brain: Come! Come you bastard… fill me up drown me in the sweet river of your wonderful, glorious, marvelous, deliciousCum! Cum! Cum! Cum! Cum!

She did.

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ…!It's… cooooommmmiiiinnnnggg!"

Roger's hips bolted up, his legs slamming shut as the surging fire of his orgasm climbed the chute of his prick and hammered at the tiny hole of his cock. With one long, soul-destroying suck of her craving mouth, Marge opened the floodgates, releasing the fury of his balls.

Roger dissolved. His body became a blinding furry of flailing limbs as his climax ripped through him like a tornado, screaming, tearing, destroying everything in its path. He whipped and jerked in spasms of unconnected movements, his entire being seeming to bolt from the tiny pin-point opening of his cock into his wife's swallowing mouth.

And then it was over, leaving him to bask in the rewarding glow of sunlight following the storm. Suddenly in defiance of every weary muscle in his body, he jerked up and removed Marge's face from his cock. He dragged her to him, and trapped her in a passionate kiss, his lips sliding on the cum that trickled from the corners of her mouth.

She thought she would die as she felt her husband's grateful, searching tongue fill her mouth with the warmth of his feeling. And now she knew! She had proven to her own satisfaction that Laura was right!

She watched as the pendulum swung back to the side of habit, and he broke the embrace, returning in silent efficiency to his preparations. But she did not care. She had gotten her goof. And she waited in quiet anticipation for him to leave, preparing herself mentally for the weekend to come.

"Goddamn it, Jenny!" Marge's raspy voice carried to rattle the hotel room walls. "It was all okay an hour ago, why change your mind now?"

Marge was seething in her own frustration. She had spent the entire trip up, and most of the day, trying to convince Jenny of the need for them to fuck other men, and she thought she had finally succeeded. She had gotten Jenny to go out with her that evening, and they had managed to get picked up. But now, seconds before the men were to arrive at their door, she was getting cold feet.

"I'm sorry, Marge, I just don't think I can go through with it. I wish you'd have told me before we came. I thought it was just going to be the two of us. If I'd have known you were planning an orgy, I'd have stayed at home!"

"Jenny, please! Try it! I promise you, you won't regret it!"

"Shit! I mean, look at the way we're dressed. Low-cut dress and no underwear… I feel like a tramp in these clothes!"

"JENNY! We're seducing a couple of I.B.M. executives, not putting on a fashion show! They're going to low it! Besides we shouldn't be wearing anything long enough to care anyway."

"Marge…"

"Jenny! You've got to do this! It's too late now to back out… I promise it'll be alright."

"Okay… I don't seem to have any choice."

"Jenny, I love you!"

And giving her a swift kiss on the cheek, Marge raced to the door. She paused to give herself one nervous check before opening the door, and letting in the two men. Greetings were exchanged quickly, with all the familiarity of total strangers.

The two middle-aged businessmen sauntered into the room, with only a forced joviality to reveal their own nervousness. They placed the portable bar equipment, so willingly retrieved from their lower-floor suite, onto the dresser, and while Louie played bartender, Robert went to join Jenny on her bed.

Robert Marchamp was the perfect match for Jenny. He was the shyer of the two men, and possessed a kind of mature handsomeness, that held up as well in the fuller light of the room, as it had in the dimly lit hotel bar. He was polite and reserved, and his thin frame next to Jenny's made the two of them look like bookends.

Louie Perrelli on the other hand, was Marge's match. Boisterous, open and aggressive, it was he and Marge that had really made the evening a reality. Louie was a slightly balding man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a charm that more than compensated for his careless appearance.

And now he was skipping around the room, handing out drinks of his own creation, pausing with each person to brag and joke about the effects this particular drink would have. Finally, his show completed and duly rewarded with laughter, he grabbed his own glass, and joined Marge on her bed.

The two couples sat facing each other, and for an hour the conversation plodded along in circles, touching anything and everything but the issue at baud. It was not until they were into their third round of drinks that the atmosphere began to loosen.

"So anyway," Louie said, the last of his drink having disappeared down his throat, "there's Jimmy and Pete standing there, their tongues hanging out, and the hooker says shell take the one with the biggest cock. Well, I'm telling you, you never saw two pair of pants come down so fast in your life. And here's this broad, pulling a ruler out of her purse, and holding a cock contest right there in the conference room… unbelievable!"

Everyone in the room was laughing, their faces flushed with the glow of the alcohol. That is everyone except Marge. The gears in her brain were churning, plotting, unwilling to let this opportunity for action slip by.

"Why do men worry so much about the size of their cock?" she chimed.

Louie paused a moment before answering. "I don't know. Big cocks are better, aren't they?"

"Not necessarily! If you've got a small hole they're hell. And if you've got a big hole, a small cock is useless. For example, I'm bigger than Jenny is, I would need a bigger cock."

"But how can you tell beforehand?" Robert said, his interest suddenly sparked by the conversation.

"Yeah!" Louie added. "I mean… say the four of us were going to fuck, how would you know which guy to pair up with?"

Marge did not know the answer herself, but she was too far into it not to bluff. "Oh, a girl can just sense it. It's kind of intuition women have. For example, I know your cock is bigger than Robert's."

"Maybe," he said, his eyes beginning to glow. "But how would you know for sure?"

"Why could always have a cock contest!" Marge watched as the two men stared at one another, their eyes registering the disbelief of her bold statements. "How about it, guys? You willing to prove me wrong?"

Marge could feel Jenny's eyes boring into her but preferred to ignore it and watched the two men drop their pants instead. The last thing she needed right now was to doubt, even for a second, what she was doing.

And now the two men stood exposed, their cocks arching as the excitement of baring themselves to two strange ladies began pulsing into their brains. Marge too was experiencing this same excitement, hem cunt twitching in response to her wanton boldness.

"Of course you'll have to trust my judgment," she chirped, walking over and kneeling before the two waving pricks. "I don't have a ruler with me, so I'll just have to gauge it by hand. And to be truly fair about this you'll both have to have erections."

She quickly grasped the two cocks. With one in each hand, and began rubbing gently up and down. A short gasp slipped from each man's throat, forming a duet of passion that sent a tingling shiver up Marge's spine.

Her hands kept traveling, caressing the cocks, working them up slowly, until they stood out proudly in full, prominent erection. Now it was Marge's turn to gasp. Each cock strained outward from its dark, curly crotch, beckoning her with promises of pure pleasure.