Bob Wallace - Hot fun wife

"She's great," Carl said.

"Yeah." Griff lifted his ass from the bed, his fucking cock ripping into her cunt. "She's getting juicy!" he roared triumphantly. "Getting hot and juicy."

"I knew it," Carl howled. "She'll be begging soon, good buddy. Real soon." Knowing Monica's cunt was greasing up fast, Carl picked up speed, his prick stretching her asshole, his balls rumbling, ready to exploded.

"Noooo!" Monica cried, hating her body for betraying her. "Noooo!" It was no use. The hard cocks fucking into her had taken their toll. She was being catapulted into a state of frenzied passion. She squealed one last time, but it was in vain. She now wanted them, needed them to quench the fire they had started in her fuck holes.

The passion ignited earlier in the kitchen had taken its toll. Carl's balls rumbled again. He was unable to stop them from exploding. "I'm cumming!" he roared above Monica's high-pitched squeals. "I'm creaming her ass!"

"Aghhhh," Monica moaned as Carl's hot cum, like an erotic enema, filled her asshole, igniting passion fires deep in her body. "He's cumming. He's cumming in my asshole."

Griff snickered. "You love it, right, blondie?" His hips worked like pistons, fucking his cock in and out of her now-sopping pussy.

"Yes," she groaned. "I love it." She worked her hips magically, her eyes bright with lust. "You too, fucker. Cream my pussy. Cum. Fill my hole!"

With Carl howling as he fucked his exploding cock into her asshole, Griff picked up speed. "You, baby. You first." He manhandled her tits, watched her face flood with her approaching orgasm. "Yeah, cum!"

Carl's fucking cock, hot squirting cum, and Griff's cunt-stuffing cock had her at the peak. Her clit, mashing constantly into Griff's hard groin, couldn't take any more punishment.

Her head snapped back. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming!" Orgasms erupted deep in her cunt, fed by their jabbing cocks. "I'm creaming!"

Griff's cock, caught in the stormy center of Monica's exploding pussy, couldn't hold up. His prickshaft swelled; his balls burst. A hot squirting load of jizz blasted deep into her pussy. "Me too!" he roared, joining in the chorus of screaming voices. "Me too!"

Monica was being drowned in a deluge of hot spurting jizz. Carl's thick wads filled her asshole. Griff's long stringy globs flooded her cunt. She responded to both. Her hips churned. She slammed back, her ass gobbling at Carl's stabbing prick. She ground her ass down, fucking on Griff's throbbing hard-on.

"Ahhhhhh!" she squealed. The room started to spin. Her eyes tried focusing. Everything was a blur. "I'm still cumming!" Her voice drowned out the deep roaring howls of both men. "I'm still creaming!"

Carl's hips became a blur. Hard lightning stabs emptied his cock first. He grunted, stopped, his breathing labored, ragged. "Done," he groaned, popping his prick from the greasy vise of her asshole. "Damn, what a fuck." He dropped back on the bed to watch his buddy and the screaming housewife finish each other off.

"Just you and me now, baby," Griff rasped, his body working like a well-oiled machine. "You and me." Hot cum squirted from his cock with each jab. Jizz filled her pussy and drooled down his almost empty balls.

She sneered down into his face, mashing her tits into his rough hands and grinding her raw clit into his humping groin. "More, fucker," she moaned. "Fill me. Make me cum again!"

She twisted on his prick, beat the muscles of her cunt against his cockshaft. Hot buttery cum flowed over his prick, igniting more explosions in his balls.

They battled on the bed, cheered on by an exhausted Carl. Her soft twisting, flesh and Griff's hard-muscled flesh whacked repeatedly into each other. The slapping sounds of their skin echoed in the room.

Monica's head jerked back and forth, her blonde hair lashing over her face and over Griff's contorted features. A shuddering spasm ripped through her body and she collapsed into his mauling hands.

Griff's last lunge freed her. He grunted, his balls drained, his prick spent.

She fell off, his prick popping from her pussy. She rested on her back, gasping for air. The room was still spinning. Somewhere in her confusion she heard them dress, laughing as they left.

An hour later, after deciding she wasn't good enough to remain in the home she had shared with her husband, Monica showered, and left, determined never to return again.

Monica drove along the ocean highway, tears flooding her blue eyes. She drove east, the sun setting behind her, and the sound of the waves filling the car.

She drove for miles along the weaving highway that hugged the sandy beach. Blinking, she spotted what she was looking for. The small dirt road that led to a promontory. She braked, turned onto the road and followed it to the end.

Cutting her motor, she took a deep breath, inhaling the ocean air. This was where Steve had busted her cherry, two weeks before their wedding day. It seemed so long ago. Tears pilled from her eyes. She had ruined everything. Jealousy had turned her into a tramp, unworthy of her husband's love.

She shivered, watching the waves crash against the shoreline, enjoying the sparkle of the setting sun on the water.

Quietly, she sat in the station wagon, vowing never to go home and wondering where she would go.

Steve sped recklessly down the highway, his jaw firm, his eyes hard, filled with rage, hurt, and a fear that he wouldn't find Monica.

He put the gas pedal to the floor. The small sports car zoomed forward, racing along the highway.

"Goddamn," he muttered, going over in his mind the short cryptic note she had left him. "Why, dammit… why?"

Expertly, he tooled the car along the winding shore highway, hoping his hunch was right. He prayed if it were, she would still be there.

The small car hugged the road, the wind rushing by, echoing in his ears. His eyes searched for the small dirt road that led to the knobby cliff overlooking the ocean. Mentally, he crossed his fingers and uttered a small prayer.

A nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he saw the road up ahead. "Be there. Be there, baby," he said, wheels squealing as he turned onto the road. He sped down the road. He spotted the station wagon, heaved a sigh, and slammed on his brakes, screeching to a stop.

Monica heard, turned her head. "Oh, no!" Steve jumped from his car and threw open the door of the station wagon. "Why?" he shouted, climbing in beside Monica. "Why, for chrissakes… why?"

"You shouldn't've followed me!" she bawled. "I'm not coming back."

Steve grabbed her arm. "Yes you are," he snarled.

"You don't want me," she said through sobbing tears. "You have your job, and…" She stopped. Accusing him of cheating would be ridiculous after the things she had done… "I love you, baby."

Through eyes glistening with tears, she looted at him. "You wouldn't, if you knew the things I've done to hurt you."

Steve winced, knowing the things he had done. He had neglected her, shelved her for money, success, shut her out of his life. He couldn't blame her. "It doesn't matter," he said.

"It should!" she wailed. "I'm a tramp. A whore."

"No, you're not." He rationalized the situation in his mind. "So you cheated once." Monica was always blowing things out of proportion, exaggerating things.

She laughed hysterically. "Once?" She faced him, her eyes filled with shame, her bottom lip trembling. "I said I was a tramp. Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you. It was my fault. You're only human." He pulled her into his arms, reveled in the joy of holding her, ashamed of himself as he remembered how long it had been since he held her this way.

For a second, Monica melted against his chest, sobbing softly. Suddenly, she struggled free, hugged the door. "No! No! I'm a whore." Hysterically, she jumped from the car.