Milton Granby - Four to a bed

‘‘Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh… oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” she sobbed helplessly, her body flailing suddenly as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her, and her loins were writhing and pounding against the sofa in a demonical rhythm.

“Ooohhhhhhhhhhhhh… I’m there… I’m… I’m… cuuummmiiinngggg… Aaaaaahhhhhhh…”

And she was there! Her hips were flailing completely out of control, the interior muscles of her greedily working vagina clasping painfully at his own turbulent cock, threatening to wrench it away from its moorings. Her long fingernails were digging desperately into his flesh with painful force, and her soft satiny buttocks were grinding hotly and hungrily down against his hand as her whole body was split wide by a gigantically exploding orgasm. After that, Harry had time to notice nothing else, because the fiery fingers of release were clutching mercilessly at him, too, and his voice resounded in the living room in an unearthly scream.

“Aaarrrrgggghhhhhhhhhh! Oh God, Ann, baby, I’m there… I’m cumming too!” And he was crashing against the voluptuous older woman’s wildly oscillating body, his prick expanded to bursting point, his head spinning like a dervish as red and green and orange lights exploded behind his brain with pistol-shot reverberations. He was cumming! Christ, he was cumming! His voice was an incoherent jabbering as the first white hot jet of liquid began to cascade along his fomenting tube and rush out into the warmly welcoming depths of her hungrily gyrating vagina. Stream after stream of it rushed out of the abyss of his churning balls and emptied itself in the softly milking orifice which received his offering with such gratitude. His body was on fire, flames of passion licking greedily at every pore and nerve of his flesh, making him tingle from top to bottom as he gave himself over completely to the greater strength of physical pleasure.

When at last, he had emptied the very last drop of semen into Jeff Green’s wife’s scorching depths, and his finger had slipped hissingly from the widened canal of her rectum, he sank back against the sofa, trying to regain normal breath, trying to hang onto the last glimmers of delicious pleasure permeating his body.

He could feel Ann stirring against him, and then gasped audibly as she began to grope for his limply reclining penis again.

“Wha…” he murmured as he felt life surge through his flaccid genitals again at her icy touch.

“You do like doing it with me, don’t you lover?” she whispered seductively, her lips ovaled wide in obvious invitation. Harry closed his eyes happily, and nodded his head in helpless agreement. God, yes, he had never felt anything like it in his whole life.

“Then tell me, lover,” the older woman crooned on teasingly. “Am I better than that frigid little wife of yours?”

Harry flinched slightly from the mention of Sandy but nodded his head again in honest agreement. It was hopeless to do otherwise against the moistness of her lips that were teasing lightly over the slowly rising head of his cock below.

“I was like her once, lover,” Ann cooed on, her lips and tongue playing hotly against him. “But Jeff taught me a lesson. He held me down and fucked me in the ass and I’ve never been the same since. Maybe you could even do it to me that way someday, Harry, baby!”

Harry could hardly believe his ears. Jeff had actually fucked his wife in the ass to teach her a lesson! God! He’d never even thought of doing anything like that to Sandy but the lewd, lust-inciting thought of his young innocent bride kneeling naked and slave-like before him was moments later driven forcefully from his mind. The warm, softly enfolding lips of Jeff Green’s wife closed wetly over the again excitedly pulsating head of his desire-hardened cock…

Sandy bit back the tears which threatened to blind her big brown eyes, and forced herself to sip the mild gin and tonic she had prepared for herself. Every few minutes, her eyes strayed to the clock, and it seemed to her as if the minutes just dragged by. Although the day had seemed to her an eternity, it was now nearly 8:30 in -the evening, and there was still no sign of Harry! What could have happened to him? She had asked herself that question a hundred times during the long day, and couldn’t bring herself to think of an answer. She had even called the police station again after lunch, but they had assured her that Harry left at 9:00 that morning. Where could he be? Beside her on the sofa, her handiwork lay discarded. She hadn’t been able to put more than a dozen stitches in it, first from excitement and then later from worry. Supposing something had happened to him? She couldn’t think of anyone to call, or anyone she could turn to. If only he 'd come home!

She jumped as if stung when she heard a car door slam outside, and hurrying over to the window, she peered out. Her heart leapt a somersault when she saw the gleam of their Palomino Gold Chevrolet in the driveway, and her worry and fear evaporated as if by magic. He was back!

Trembling with excitement, she flung open the front door of the apartment, and waited with bated breath as she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

She flung herself into his arms when he reached the landing, clinging to him, as if for life itself, sobbing helplessly into his shoulder.

“Oh Harry, I’m so glad you’re back… I was so worried…” she blubbered, unable to help herself.

“It’s all right, honey,” Harry soothed her, “everything’s all right now!”

He closed the apartment door behind them, and once more safe inside her home, some of Sandy’s self-possession returned to her. “You must be ravenous,” she suggested happily. “How about a drink while I fix a steak?”

“W-well, I’ll take a drink, but forget about uh… dinner!” Harry said, somewhat sheepishly, thinking about the delicious Steak au Poivre Ann had prepared for them both, accompanied by a huge green salad, and finished off with home-made lemon mousse.

“Are you sure you don’t want dinner? It won’t be-” Sandy continued to inquire.

“No, I’m telling you, I’m not hungry. But I sure could use a drink!”

Harry was sorry he’d snapped at Sandy when he saw the crestfallen look on her ashen face, and hastened to make amends.

“Maybe after that drink, I’ll feel like something,” he said placatingly, and Sandy seemed happier. After a few moments, she returned with a scotch on the rocks, which Harry always drank, and a fresh gin and tonic for herself. She settled herself very close to him on the sofa, as if getting strength from his mere presence.

“Was it terrible in jail?” she inquired, her face upturned to his. “Were you alone in the cell or-”

“Please, Sandy, I don’t want to talk about it!” Harry snapped again, unable to contain himself. To tell the truth, he’d hardly thought about his weekend in prison since he was released, the events following driving it completely out of his head. In fact, he had to admit to himself, that he was coming back down to earth, and with a loud, painful thud! The day had been one long orgy of incredible lovemaking with Ann, followed by that delicious meal and more lovemaking, until he thought he couldn’t move. Now, he had to face the cold reality of his life, Sandy, his apartment, his job tomorrow, and leave the glamor world of the Greens. What tweaked his conscience as well was the fact that Sandy had obviously been worried to death about him, while he had barely given her a thought all day. If she only knew … She wouldn’t be looking at him with such adoration. She’d despise him, probably never speak to him again… maybe even start divorce proceedings. And the worst of it was he’d deserve it, and more. What he’d done was unforgivable, and he could only hope and pray Sandy never found out. Guilt was eating at him like a hungry serpent, and his only hope was that his remorse didn’t show on his face.