Bert Ormsby: Swapping with laura

"Even dogs need their beauty sleep, Laura, and you've been out for hours. Ralph called a little while ago. He wanted to know where you were. I told him we had just drunk a little wee too much and that you were taking a nap. I told him I'd wake you and send you right home."

Laura stretched luxuriously, her long smooth arms rising high above her head, her legs stiffening out ahead of her over the edge of the little stage. "I feel so nice, Cleo," she said after a lengthy yawn. "So happy and relaxed. I don't think I've ever felt so good in my life. I've been very foolish."

Cleonora pushed her fingers through Laura's blonde hair. "You won't be anymore, dear. Now get dressed and get back to your handsome young husband. I've brought your clothes down."

It didn't take long for her to dress and put her make-up on again. Her lower belly felt all warm and nice. She wondered how it was that she had gone her entire life without knowing this wonderful peace that came from sexual completion.

She certainly intended to make up for lost time.

It was pitch dark as the young blonde wife pulled her car out of the Franklins' driveway and headed down the highway toward her house. She wondered if Ralph would be angry. Well, if he was, she'd make it up to him! And then some!

She pulled up the gravel path just as the clouds parted and the full moon shone across their home. The sea was full of spray and tossing madly. The moon glinted brightly on the sharply peaking waves. It seemed like a good omen. She loved her home and she loved Ralph, and she wanted their marriage to succeed. The marvelous canine fucking she had received at the Franklins' had opened her eyes, but that was fundamentally just an interlude. Ralph was her whole life; eventually she would bear his children.

Not that she couldn't still continue to enjoy sex of every variety, she thought. But that was pleasure, and home and family were more like a business partnership in which both partners invested their lives and souls.

They would find a way.

I've been a prudish bitch, she thought, parking the car to a stop. I didn't try to make Ralph happy, so he didn't try with me, either. It takes two to make a good hot fuck. There, I'm not afraid of saying it. Fuck, fuck, fuck; I love the sound of it. "Fuck!"

The house was dead quiet as she took her key out of the lock. Then she went up the stairs as silently as she could, so that she wouldn't wake him.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she tiptoed across the plush blue carpeting toward their bedroom door.

Only to hear the most anguished sounds coming from within!

"Oh, Christ, you have a nice cunt, Cleonora. Love fucking you, baby. Just want to stuff it up your ass, honey…"

She pushed open the slightly parted bedroom door with her fingertips and gazed inside. There, before her on the bed, outlined starkly in the moonlight, was Ralph, his rigid cock held in his hand, actively pumping the loose foreskin up and down.

Masturbating! Laura had never seen a man masturbate before! She stared in rapt silence as his hand moved up and back, making his soft hairy balls jiggle between his long, muscular legs. His mouth was open, although his eyes were closed, and he was muttering fresh obscenities with every breath.

No doubt his brief conversation with Cleonora over the telephone had brought him to this sorry pass, so that he wanted her more than he wanted his own wife. Did he also think of Cleonora when he was fucking his own wife, Laura wondered. Was that why he would always cum so fast? Laura's seething jealousy flared. She would show him. She began artfully removing her clothes.

"What?" Even in the moonlight she could detect his embarrassment at being caught in such a compromised position. His face darkened darker than the shadows, and she knew he was blushing.

"Oh, it's you, Laura," he said after a lengthy pause, awkwardly and ill-at-ease. He let go of his penis and pulled a sheet up over it.

"Yes, it's me," she murmured as she stripped, doing it languidly, even as if she were engaged in a little dance of the seven veils. She kicked off her shoes, slid down her nylon stockings, and removed her dress. Then she unhooked her brassiere and slid her white cotton panties slowly, teasingly, down the long white columns of her legs. She knew that Ralph was partial to blonde hair, so she was especially slow about revealing her sparse golden pubic triangle. But eventually her clothes surrounded her dainty feet in a soft flow of cotton and silk, and her brassiere fell away to the top of the pile from her softly uptilted breasts.

Ralph's mouth was hanging open as she stepped out of her clothes. He gazed at her magnificent body in wonder as if he had never seen it before in quite this way. When she fluffed out her long blonde hair so that it fell down over the tops of her buttocks, the effect was pure sensuality. He found his breathing coming in small, ragged gasps. He couldn't believe she was actually turning him on like this. After all, Laura was his own wife!

"See anything you like?" she asked in her best imitation of Marilyn Monroe. Then she sashayed her way sexily toward where her doctor-husband lay waiting nakedly on the bed, moving with a calculated wiggle that she had seen girls use in so many countless Hollywood movies.

Ralph was thunderstruck. This performance was so unlike the proper little girl he had married that he was totally at a loss. He had expected – rather, hoped – that active sexuality in the marital bedroom would serve to pry Laura loose from the strangling inhibitions which had made their courtship such a ball-busting hell for him. But he had never expected anything like this, at this late stage. What on earth had come over her?

Or perhaps he should not look a gift horse in the mouth. Without saying another word, he sat up and reached for her. She came into his arms, her high-set round breasts flattening against the muscular hardness of his young chest. He buried his nose in the sweet youthful fragrance of her long, wheat-colored hair, his hard-on resuming its terrible, pounding, blood-engorged desire.

Laura's body shivered as his hands moved down over her softly fleshed buttocks and his fingers slipped into the narrow deep crevice between. A picture came into her mind of how some of the dogs at the Franklins' party had been using some of the women, and she wondered if she had the nerve to suggest it.

"Sweetheart, ooooahhhhh nice…" she murmured as he ran his hands in a long slow caress up and down her back. Her body strained along with his hands as they coursed over her naked skin. Then he returned to her buttocks, rubbing them in small circles, gently pressing apart the two full white moons of her ass-cheeks and slithering one finger in the direction of her tiny puckered little anus. Then he withdrew, still somewhat shy of alarming her, and cupped the firm full cheeks again. Then, somewhat emboldened by her moaning acquiescence, he slid his fingers back again between, up and back, gently increasing their pressure.

He had expected his wife to close her thighs to this rude entry, but instead she seemed actually to welcome it. There was no haughty disdain that he would have expected, no pushing away of his hand.

Still testing his good fortune, he pushed his hand up inside the full, satin-like softness of her ass-cheeks until his fingers came into sudden wet contact with the soft down of her thin blonde pubic hair. He pressed one middle finger up between the soft damp flanges of her pussy from behind and moved it around in slow, teasing circles, knocking her small nerve-filled clitoris wildly back and forth. The unexpected sensation elicited a gasp and a moan from his normally unresponsive young wife that quite surprised him.

"Are you all right, Laura?" he asked nervously. "You don't mind if I touch you there?"