Unknown: His incestuous wife

Virginia Simmas threw the women's magazine to the floor in disgust and lit a fresh cigarette, the last one still burning in the ash tray. She puffed on the cigarette with a vengeance, picked up the dainty teacup on the end table, and tossed the cold, black liquid down.

She grimaced. It was a lousy drink, half cold coffee and half vodka. A lousy way to get through life, too, she thought, but being a little tight seemed to make it easier.

Virginia knew there was something missing, something that vodka and cigarettes wouldn't replace yet, to go out and get involved with life again seemed like too much of a chore. She was too old to go back to school; besides, she didn't want to, and she sure as hell didn't want to get job. Still, she had to do something; her unrest was growing by the day.

She was thirty-eight years old, married almost twenty years, and had a grown daughter. The most charitable thing she could say about her marriage was that it was dull.

She got absently to her feet and trudged up the three stairs to the bedroom level. Her head felt light and she staggered just a trifle. Another vodka, she thought, and she could sleep the rest of the day away. The thought was tempting, but she knew she had to get busy or lose her mind. She slid open the closet door, only to shrink back. Cleaning that out was too formidable a job in her condition; to leap in there cold turkey was just too much to ask. She would start by cleaning out the drawers in the dresser, starting with her husband's one drawer. She had four.

God, what men accumulated. Two worn-out undershirts, one red sock, no mate, and… what in the hell was a big brown envelope doing in his clothes drawer under all of his other paraphernalia? She realized that it had been years since she had opened his drawer except to pile his clean things on top of what was already there, and God knew what a man would stuff in it in that length of time.

She took the envelope and idly undid the clasp. Her mouth dropped open with astonishment as a mass of dirty pictures spread out on the bed. She picked up one of the pictures and looked at it. It was of a man standing over a naked woman, his prick spurting a load of cum onto her face. In spite of her shock, she said, "Why, his.. his thing must be ten inches long" She threw it down.

The next one she picked up was no better, or the next, or the one after that. She scooped the pictures back into the envelope and threw it into the drawer.

"The dirty rat!" she finned. "He pays about as much attention to me as he does the vacuum, and then collects dirty pictures of men and women… fornicating and other things."

Virginia and Harvey still fucked now and then, but it was usually when he was drunk, crawling on and slamming his cock in and out of her cunt for a few strokes until he came. Some fun. And it was always when Harvey felt the need, never any thought of how she felt. Virginia flounced angrily from the worn.

Downstairs again, Virginia was in a rage. He doesn't know I'm alive, she thought, and I've got ten times as much to offer as any of those whores in his pictures!

She lifted her skirt high and looked down at herself just to make sure. She had a little more around her middle, but her belly was still firm, the belly button deep and sexy, and her dark beaver bulged out the front of her panties. She didn't need to look at herself to know she was still a fine-looking woman, even if she didn't feel like it, but sometimes it helped. Satisfied, she let her skirt fall back into place.

She went to the kitchen and poured some vodka into a glass and ten minutes later she was back in the bedroom looking at the pictures. She left in disgust again, yet was back for a third try within the hour. She stacked the pictures into neat piles and, starting with the first pile, looked at each picture in turn. There were men and women playing with each other, fucking and sucking, and from all angles. It was disgusting, yet, in spite of herself, she was aroused, especially by the ones where the men were young.

Then she came to one with a boy who couldn't have been over nineteen. The boy in the picture stood in the nude and a woman kneeled in front of him with his prick in her mouth. She WBS clothed, but the front of her dress WAS open and her big tits were exposed. The boy was tall and thin, almost frail-looking, and his cock appeared to be quite long, even with part of it in the woman's mouth. The woman wasn't pretty and looked to be in her late thirties, and she had the boy's balls cupped in her hand.

"Oh, my God!" Virginia gasped. "I like that, I really do." She laid it aside and went through the remaining pictures faster, hoping to find more with young boys.

She found several, two of the same boy and woman, only they were both naked and in one they were fucking and in the other-heaven forbid if the boy had his face buried between the woman's legs. Virginia had heard that men put their mouths on a woman's cunt, but had never given it much thought. It made her tingle now, and when she felt her pussy-mound, she found that her underwear was wet.

The one that really turned her on, though, was of a much younger boy, maybe eighteen, and a woman who was lying on her back with the boy straddling her face. He was squirting his jism into her open mouth. It was a very good picture, the stringy strands of cock-goo clearly dripping.

Virginia scooped the rest of the pictures into the envelope and put it back under her husband's underwear in the drawer, then sat back on the bed to examine her self. In spite of herself, she was unable to control her self, she was a female animal in a rut, lusting for the choice fruit of tender youth, yearning for the innocent, unmolested cock of a young boy.

Virginia fell back on the bed and brought her feet up. She could feel the heat rising between her thighs. The urge to play with her cunt, yes, to bang herself, was very strong, even tough she hadn't done such a thing in many, many years. She wondered now why she hadn't. A fuck with Harvey was a rare occasion any more, and God knew she needed something.

Her skirt was above her hips and her hand moved between her open thighs. Her panties were soaked. She looked at the pictures laid out on the bed beside her and pushed her panties down her lop. After kicking them free, her hand returned to her crotch, a finger sliding into the slick slit nestled at the top of her thighs, first lightly, then With considerably more urgency. Virginia realized when the first ripple of pleasure roiled through her cunt that she was ripe and ready-Lord, she was overripe!

While her fingers played lovingly between the puffed-out lips of her cunt, her mind wandered back into the musty archives of her memory. An image came forth, one that had long been forgotten, but at the time seemed as if it would linger forever. She. was eighteen years old again and her little brother was six. She doted on her little brother; he was her real live doll, her very own play pretty, an out of curiosity she had taken down his pants, and upon seeing his tiny prick, had succumbed to an irresistible urge. She had taken the gorgeous piece of pink cock-flesh in her hand, and when it felt so wonderful, bent down and kissed it. She could almost feel the tiny prick against her lips now, and wondered what it would have felt like if the tiny organ could have gotten hard.

As the incident turned out, her father caught her just as she was about to take her brother's little cock inside her mouth. He gave her a blistering that she thought she would never forget. The beating was enough to prevent her from doing it again, but not to erase the immensely pleasurable sensation of her little brother's cock against her lips. For ninny months afterwards she used the memory to excite herself sexually.