Bob Wallace - Hot fun wife

"You better be careful," Griff said, his cock turning to hard steel in his pants. Reluctantly, he let her go. "Whewww."

Monica leaned against the side of the house, posing as the two burly men removed all the trash Kenny had brought out of the garage. She felt their glances and knew she was turning them both on. Maybe… she thought as they quickly finished. Why not? She made her decision.

"I don't know how to thank you," she mewled. Her gaze darted from Griff to Carl.

Carl leered at his buddy. They both had the same idea. Instead of saying it though, Carl said, "How about a beer? We worked up a thirst."

"Yeah," Griff agreed. "A nice cold brew would be great."

The quick look between the two men wasn't lost on Monica. She smiled secretly, wondering if she had the nerve to give them what she knew they really wanted. "Follow me." She spun on her heel, and, swinging her ass as if she were a hooker, she strutted around to the back of the house.

They followed, their gazes glued to the rolling sensuality of her swinging ass and hips. Two cocks throbbed for the opportunity to be buried between her long sexy legs, in her hot cunt or tight ass.

With Griff and Carl sitting at the kitchen table, Monica went to the refrigerator for their beers. Each move she made, she exaggerated. Knowing their gazes were glued to her ass, she bent over and looked into the fridge. "Mmm, I know I have beer in here somewhere."

Griff groaned, made a lewd gesture with his hand and glanced at Carl.

A dirty smile played on Carl's mouth, and he rubbed his crotch. His dark menacing eyes bore into the crease of Monica's shorts as they highlighted the crack of her ass.

"Oh, here they are," she giggled. She took out two bottles, straightening up, and turned to face her admirers. "I thought for a second I was out of beer." She put the bottles on the table and stood there, close enough for either one of them to touch her. She became dizzy, her eyes filming over with a veil of passion. "Drink up."

"You're a gorgeous woman," Griff said. He gulped down half his beer, his eyes fixed on her pussy where the shorts cut tightly into her cunt gash.

"You're handsome," she said. She looked at Carl, saw him leering at her tits. "So are you."

"Is that all you?" Carl rasped.

Monica giggled. "It sure is. You can ask my husband." She winked. "He'll tell you." She was having a ball. The admiration of two men made her feel great.

"I think he'd rather find out for himself," Griff said, glancing up, then returning his gaze to the crotch of her shorts.

"Ooooo, Griff. You shouldn't talk like that." Her cheeks turned pink. Her nipples, hidden from view, swelled, the bullet tips breaking the smooth contour of her billowing halter.

Her gaze dropped, spotted the bulge in each man's pants. It boggled her mind. For a brief second, she wondered if Lois had ever done anything as bold as what she was now contemplating. A giggle escaped her mouth.

"I guess you two will have to take my word for it." She took a deep breath. "It's all me."

Griff's breath caught in his throat. "Can't be," he said, playing the game, knowing this was what the sexy blonde wanted. "They're too big. Right, Carl?"

"Yeah," Carl said huskily, his eyes bulging. "Her tits are too big to be real."

Monica giggled, liking the sexy game. "How much would you like to bet?" she asked breathlessly, challenging the two brawny men with her dazzling eyes.

Griff pulled out his wallet and laid a twenty-dollar bill on the table. Carl matched it.

"Mmmm, forty bucks," she giggled. "I can't lose."

"Neither can we," Griff said, his throat scratchy.

Monica glanced down at her bulging tits and smiled. "You guys have just lost forty bucks." With liquid grace, Monica slipped her halter over her head. She took a deep breath, tossed her halter on the table and, modeled her bate fleshy tits. "I told you they were real," she said, her voice rushed, laced with a growing lust.

Griff found his voice first. His eyes popped as he looked at her large creamy tits. His mouth watered as he anticipated chewing her large swollen nipples. "I think they're fake," he said.

"Yeah," Carl rasped. "Probably injections." He grinned lewdly, dining on her magnificent tits with his hot eyes.

"Oh, no," she giggled. "Nature gave me these." She brought her hands up, mauled her tits roughly, whimpering as she did. "You can't do this with fake tits. It'll ruin them."

"I'd have to see for myself," Griff said.

"Yeah," Carl agreed. "Can't take chances. We got forty bucks riding on this bet."

Monica laughed. "The bet didn't include playing with me." She stepped to the table, reached far the money.

Griff slapped his big hand down, covering the two bills. "Gotta make sure." With his other hand, he reached and spanned one fleshy globe of tittie meat and squeezed.

Monica swooned. "Oooh, Christ!" she gasped as Carl, following his buddy's lead, grabbed her other tit. "Ohhhhh, stop it. Stop it!" She was reeling. The pleasure was overwhelming.

"I don't think she wants us to stop," Griff said, mauling her tit.

"Me either," Carl said. "She loves it." He brought his free hand to her ass and rubbed one rounded cheek through her shorts. "Great ass."

Griff brought his hand around, cupped Monica's other ass cheek. His fingers kneaded the pliant ass meat. "Bet it looks good naked."

Monica was trembling inside. Their hands were wonderful, driving her crazy. "Stop," she sighed, knowing they wouldn't. "Oooo, stop."

The two men grinned at each other. A silent signal passed between the two horny, men. Together, they eased Monica's shorts down over her squirming hips, pushed them down her thighs, and watched them drop to her ankles. Both men leered, savoring the sight of her gorgeous blonde-thatched cunt mound.

"Damn," Griff said. "A natural blonde."

Monica was soaring on a cloud of pleasure. She swayed under their mauling hands, creamed under their steady gaze. "Oh you guys… stop. I'm a married woman."

Griff ignored her feeble protests because he knew she didn't mean them. He brought his thick fingers to her seeping cunt, dragged them through her gash. "An oven… a wet fuckin' oven."

Monica shuddered. Her hips moved on their own. Jerking forward, she dragged her cunt over Griff's fingers. "Oh, God. I'm creaming." She rolled her hips. "Don't do this to me. It isn't right." Her feeble protest, like her belief in her husband's cheating, helped to erase the guilt of what she was doing.

"You don't want us to stop," Carl said, joining Griff between Monica's thighs. "Damn, she really is on fire." He fucked a finger into Monica's pussy. "Whewwww, what a hole."

Monica shook. Her pussy was an inferno of heat. Her nipples felt as if they would burst. "Unnnn," she moaned, rotating her hips. "Oooo, this isn't right."

Griff fucked one of his own fingers into Monica's pussy. "Feel her cunt, Carl?" He fucked his finger deep, spreading her pussy hole wide.

"Greedy for something more than fingers," Carl laughed as Monica squealed. He pulled his juice-stained finger from her pussy, slipped it around and fucked it up her tight narrow asshole. "This hole is just as nice." He twisted his finger and at the same time mangled her pliant tit.

Monica almost collapsed. She kept her legs spread, working her hips in a circle. She hissed out her breath and reveled in the attention of the two men. She leaned forward, her tits milked by rough callused hands. She braced herself on the table, palms flat, hips jerking.

Griff popped his finger from her ass. "How about my cock, baby? Don't you want to see it?"

Numb, Monica nodded. She looked from one horny man to the other, saw their leering faces. "Yes," she whispered hoarsely. "I want to see both your cocks."

Carl pulled his finger from her pussy and smeared it over her mouth. "You like the taste of your own pussy?"