James Evers - Hungry wives

She gave Laura a quick kiss and strolled out. In all that time Larry's eyes never left her for a second.

"You know, Laura, if I were your father, I'd never get out of bed."

Laura giggled, throwing her arms around his waist. "You like that action, huh?"

"You know it. I'd sleep with that lady any day." Suddenly Laura was a beaming ball of excitement. "Oh my God, that's it! That's just what she needs!"

"What is?"

Laura stared at him thoughtfully. "Never mind… I think I've got a way to help Mom out, and you, my good man, are going to help."

Marge sat silently on the edge of the sofa, flying to find the words that would make Jenny feel better. She searched desperately, racking her brain, looking for some magical phrase that would make everything seem all right, but it just would not come.

"Shit Jenny, I wish I knew what to tell you, but I don't."

Marge picked up her glass, and downed the contents of her second drink in one long swallow.

What the hell, she figured, if I can't help her at least I can join her. She got up, and stepped around her friend's cross-legged, sobbing body, weaving her way unsteadily to the bar.

"You want another drink, Jenny?"

"No… it's not any good. I… I can't…" But her attempt to talk only brought an another wave of tears.

Marge fixed herself another drink, and came around, perching herself on one of the tall barstools, waiting for her friend's spasm to subside. She sat quietly, enduring her friend's misery as long as she could before she finally spoke.

"Oh God honey, relax… please! I mean, you don't really know for sure that Tom is cheating on you. I'll admit it looks shaky, but one pair of strange panties, and a head full of suspicion doesn't really constitute evidence… does it?"

"Dammit, Marge! I don't need evidence. I don't need proof. I can feel it! He's not sleeping with me, he must be sleeping with somebody. I'm telling you… I can feel it… I'm as sure as if I'd watched him do it."

Marge felt helpless again. She could not help being swayed by Jenny's arguments. She had laid her suspicions out drunkenly, but accurately, and her overwhelming sureness made the whole idea hard to deny.

"Okay, Jenny… okay! So maybe he's had one affair, or maybe two… So what?"

"So what!"

"Yes! So what!" What the hell. She could afford to be brave. It wasn't her husband.

Jenny was amazed. She looked her bloodshot eyes on her mother's face, scanning for some hint that she was just kidding. "Damnit, Marge! I just can't believe how casually you're taking all this."

"I don't have any choice," she smiled, hoping to cheer Jenny up. "Someone's got to keep you from falling apart."

"You astound me," she squeaked, managing a small smile of her own. "Our husbands are having affairs and you can sit there playing Mother Courage… unbelievable!"

The smile suddenly faded from Marge's lips. "What do you mean, OUR husbands?"

"Just what I said." Jenny now recognized her friend's look as shock. "I'll be damned. You mean you… oh Marge! How can you be so psychic one minute, and so utterly dense the next? If Tom is running out of town to carry on, what the hell is Roger doing with him? I don't think it's in case they need a fourth for bridge!"

Marge's blood turned to ice water. This was the one thought she had never allowed herself to think. Oh, it had rolled around her brain once or twice, but she would never give it credence. And now, here it was, staring her in the face.

"NO! No, Jenny! It's… they can't… there's got to be some other reason. business… it's just business."

She mumbled on, trying to convince herself, but it just would not hold water. She had bought it now that Roger was involved. It answered too many questions, explained too many things. She was finally forced to openly accept the blunt, painful reality of her marriage.

"Damnit!" Marge choked back the tears that were now so ready to come pouring out. "Oh… Goddamn those bastards!"

Her friend was less able to control it. "Marge, I'm sorry. I thought you… oh God… I'm so… sorry!" And the flood began, streaming down the well-worn path of her mascara.

But Marge was no longer uncomfortable with her friend's crying. In fact she was grateful. It gave her something besides herself to concentrate on. Finding the strength to console Jenny was far easier than dealing with the pain that now gnawed at her stomach.

She slipped off the barstool, and walked over to Jenny, kneeling compassionately in front of her sobbing body. "I think we could both use a good hug," she sighed, and pulled her up to her knee. Quickly her arms went out, enveloping the girl in a warm, firm, soothing hug.

The two women remained that way for some time. Marge held tightly, stroking her hair, absorbing each jerk of her crying body until the storm finally passed. Once Jenny had stifled herself, Marge broke the embrace, and leaned back to stare at her friend.

The sight of her friend's streaked and puffy face filled her with pity. Impulsively she leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, infusing it with all her love and friendship. But something suddenly clicked in Jenny. She returned the kiss much more ardently, her arms coming back up to circle Marge's neck.

Slowly her tongue crept out. She wormed it gently between the other woman's lips, and into her warm mouth. It began moving rapidly, exploringly, tasting and savoring the sweetness of her mouth.

Marge was stunned. Instinctively she pulled back, but her friend's tight gasp would offer her no retreat. She relented momentarily, wondering what to do before she finally succeeded in turning her face to the side, breaking the deep, warmly passionate kiss.

"Look, Jenny, maybe I'd better go."

"NO! Oh God, Marge, stay… I need you… you're the only one who still loves me! Please,stay!"

Desperately, Jenny recaptured Marge's mouth, her tongue shooting back out to reclaim her friend's devotion. But, this time she was more prepared. She accepted the fleshy intruder, tasting it, feeling its moist warmth as it circled slowly in her mouth. Slowly, she gave in to this strange, new closeness that was rising between them.

Sensing her acceptance, Jenny moved in closer. As she did, her thigh moved up between the firm white columns of Marge's legs, and pressed eagerly against the soft mound of her cunt. Marge could fret the muscled limb bearing down, even through her clothing, and gasped as she felt a sudden, leaping thrill sensation surge warmly through her loins.

Jenny was unconscious of her friend's feelings. She was by now totally lost in the grip of her own needs – needs brought on by years of neglect and frustration.

Her tongue was working fiercely at Marge's mouth, and her hands were stroking the gentle angles of her friend's beautiful face. Slowly they lowered, drifting down across her sinewy neck, sloping out around her white, rounded shoulders, and finally sinking to caress the fullness of her gently heaving tit.

And now Marge was frightened. Jenny's avidly running fingers were sending tiny thrills of pleasure through her, and it scared her. She could feel her pink nipples jumping to erect hardness as Jenny fondled the tit through the thin baffler of her clothing. She reached down and pulled the woman's hand away, at the same time withdrawing from the burning contact of her grinding thigh. She had to get out. She had to escape the trembling, heightened sensations that were racing through her.

"Jenny, please. I've got to go." She struggled to her feet, but the alcohol was now making her dizzy, and the sudden tremblings of her passions left her legs shaky. For one second she weaved unsteadily, barely able to support her own weight.

Instantly, Jenny's arms were around her, supporting her, holding her. "No, Marge, stay! Please don't leave. I need you. I need to be held and touched and felt by someone who means it. Please, touch me… touch me!"