Donna Allen: Naughty nympho wife

"I don't know, I'm asking."

He put his drink down. He made her put one foot up on the sofa next to him and he slid his hand along the inside of her thigh until he found her cunt-lips. He began tickling his fingers in her cunt, probing between her cunt-lips to touch her cunt-hole and then her clit. He had a good touch. She closed her eyes and quivered as he worked his fingers over the outside of her cunt.

"Nice pussy," he said.

"Do you still like it?"

"You know I do."

She sipped her drink, standing there while he played with her pussy. Then she finally put her drink down and she sat down next to him. She unzipped his fly and brought his cock out.

"Here's the big prick!" she said with a giggle. The booze was getting to her, yes, he did have a big prick. She adored his cock. His cock-head was magnificent, a fat juicy plum of a cock-knob, the rim sharply sculptured and the helmet shape perfect. It was the sort of cock she'd dreamed about as a girl and now she had a husband who had exactly what she wanted. If only they could get the knots out of their marriage.

Focus on the cock, she thought. Forget about the knots and Martin and Al Gorman. Focus on the cock.

She rubbed her thumb over his piss-hole, spread his fuck-juice around his fuck-knob.

"Take your pants off," she said. "I'm going to suck this thing."

"Let's go upstairs. Let's get on a bed."

"No, down here first. I want to suck it down here."

He did what she wanted. He slipped his pants and shorts down to his ankles and she bent over him and took his cock in her mouth. She sucked on his cock-knob as though it was a lollipop. She loved the taste of it. She loved the feel of his hot flesh in her mouth. He patted her head, ran his fingers over her neck and told her how much he liked it.

We're good together, she thought.

She tried to remember how many times she'd sucked his cock during the six years of their marriage. Maybe a thousand. A thousand sucks and a thousand fucks. She touched his balls. The sac was tight and she guessed he was close to coming. She didn't want him coming in her mouth. She wanted a hot fuck and if he came in her mouth she guessed he'd be finished. She pulled her mouth off his cock and told him now they could go upstairs.

"I want this salami in my cunt," she said. He chuckled as he rose. "You never called it that before!"

She blushed and avoided his eyes. "It's a big salami!" The word came from Al Gorman. That night at the party, Al had called his cock a salami. She wanted to kick herself for using it with Martin.

They went upstairs together. In the bedroom they undressed and Martin walked into the bathroom and closed the door. Candice lay on the bed waiting for him. She was so hot. Sucking his cock always turned her on. She slipped her fingers between her cunt-lips to feel her fuck-juices. She was soaked, all right. Her clit was stiff. She rubbed up and down the side of her clit and pulled the foreskin back to expose the tiny knob.

When Martin came out of the bathroom, he found her with her fingers in her cunt. She made no attempt to pull her hand away. She opened her legs even further and rubbed her cunt while he watched her.

"Fuck me, Martin!"

He was on her in a few moments, mounting her, climbing between her raised legs to get his cock in her cunt. She groaned when she felt his cock-knob push inside. She rocked her knees and told him to fuck her.

It was not one of their best nights. She could tell Martin was too tired. He went through the motions, but she could tell he wasn't that excited by it. She tried to get the angle right so she could get some friction on her clit. But then Martin was coming and what happened for her wasn't much of anything. One more boring fuck. She held onto him as he dumped his come in her cunt. Then he was finished and he grunted as he pulled out and rolled off her body. Don't cry, she thought. She wanted to cry but she knew she shouldn't. Fucking Martin wasn't nearly as exciting as fucking Al Gorman.

Later, when Martin was asleep, she rose up and left the bedroom. She was too restless to sleep. She went down to the living room, turned on the TV and sat watching it in the dark. She kept the sound low. Let Martin sleep. He'd blown his rocks off in her cunt and that's all he cared about. Then she told herself it was her own fault because she'd been the one who'd suggested they fuck. She'd asked him to fuck her and he'd fucked her. What more did she want?

What she wanted was what she'd had from Al Gorman, some excitement in the fucking and the big bang at the end in her pussy. She touched her cunt now. She was still swollen from the fucking with Martin. She closed her eyes and thought of Al Gorman. That party. The two of them wrestling on the bed in the dark. His hairy balls. She frigged her clit. She wondered what it would feel like to suck Al Gorman's hairy balls. She came like that, thinking about Al Gorman's balls, her fingers diddling her cunt as she quivered on the sofa. On the TV some jerk was selling floor wax. She stuck three fingers in her cunt and started working herself up again.

A few days after Martin left town again, his friend Frank Mason showed up at the gallery. Candice hadn't expected him. She thought maybe he'd call, but she didn't think he would come to the gallery. She hadn't seen him in some time and she was surprised at how well he looked.

"Divorce seems to agree with you," she said. Frank laughed. "It's like a monkey off my back!" He sold real estate and he was doing well. He looked around the gallery awhile, and then he came back to Candice. "Martin wants me to look after you."

"I don't need looking after, Frank. I'm a big girl and I can look after myself."

"Sure, sure, but in the meantime you can go out to dinner with me and we can both look after ourselves at the same table."

They bantered about it. She quivered when she realized he was looking at her tits. She was wearing a silk blouse and her tits were prominent. Frank was always open in the way he looked at her. Even when he'd been married, he'd never tried to hide his interest. Only now it seemed to mean something more. Maybe it was because of Al Gorman. She'd broken the ice now, she'd fucked someone besides Martin. She had a sudden heat in her belly as she realized she wouldn't mind fucking Frank Mason.

Candice, you're crazy, she thought, he's Martin's best friend. It was one thing for Frank to look at her tits, it was something else to fuck her. She was sure he wouldn't go that far. Frank and Martin had known each other so long.

She finally agreed to go out to dinner with him that evening. "We split the check."

Frank shook his head. "The hell we will! You're my date!"

He walked out after that. She watched him go and wondered what it would be like to fuck him. She liked the way he walked. She wondered what his ass looked like when he was naked.

Candice, you're terrible, she thought.

She'd never looked at Frank like that before. It was all Martin's fault. They'd had such a lousy fuck last night and she was still horny. She was a horny little girl and Frank Mason's ass was looking very good.

It took a while for her to calm down, but then suddenly Al Gorman came into the gallery dragging one of his paintings. He put the painting in the back room and then he came out to her desk and looked down at her with a grin. "I've been thinking about you."

"Don't think too hard, it might ruin your career."

She was embarrassed as they talked. This was the man she'd fucked just a few days ago. He'd sucked her cunt and then she'd sucked his cock and then he'd fucked her brains out on a strange bed. He was standing there so close to her, he almost had his crotch in her face. She trembled as she remembered the taste of his cock in her mouth.

"You're a tough cookie," he said.