Norma Egan - Boy-craving wife

Edith Burns, a shapely big-breasted woman of forty, stood in front of her bedroom mirror stroking her pussy. Her finger played up and down over the slick hot lump of her clit, over the steamy wet flesh of her gash. Her husband Harold had indicated that he might want to fuck tonight, and Edith was almost too excited to wait.

"Are you coining to bed now, Harold?" she called.

From the living room came Harold's high tenor voice: "Just a few minutes, dear. I want to catch the rest of this program."

Edith sighed loudly. It must have been over a month since she and Harold had fucked, yet he seemed to be in no hurry. She felt desperate. Her starved pussy was swollen, aching, and soaked with oozing cunt-cream. Damnit all, she was a normal healthy woman who needed steady fucking, and her husband just wasn't giving it to her! Moaning with need, Edith rubbed her clit faster, harder. Melting waves of pleasure rippled through her belly. She was halfway tempted to bring herself off with her finger. But, no, she'd wait and hope that Harold would fuck her. A cock beat a finger any day of the year. She masturbated a lot, just to keep her sanity, but she much preferred the real thing, a good stiff prick in her juicy little cunt.

As she fingered her swollen moist clit, Edith studied herself in the mirror. She was tall, a stunning red-haired beauty with tits the size of small watermelons. Her rosy-red nipples were large and cone-shaped. Her fiery-red bush was thick and expansive, covering half her lower belly. Her curvy body was still firm and sleek, even at forty.

Not bad for a woman who'd been married twenty years. Edith was still damned attractive, and she knew it. Too bad she had to waste it on Harold. She spun her fingertip around the soaked hot shaft of her clit, moaning softly as the heady pleasure washed through her belly. Just once in her life she'd like to fuck somebody besides her mousy, scholarly husband. There had to be men in the world who were more interested in fucking than Harold was.

"Ohhhhh, God, I need it so badly," Edith moaned.

Her finger raced faster around the sensitive shaft of her soaked joy bud on. Not once in all the years of their marriage had she cheated on Harold. She'd never fucked another man in her life. But tonight she was terribly tempted. She was so horny she could have screamed, and there was her husband glued to the TV, watching some damned program about endangered bird species.

"Shit," Edith whispered, "doesn't he ever get horny?"

In the early years of their marriage, they'd had a normal sex life, but lately Harold hardly seemed interested at all. Edith and her husband ran their own private school, the Burns School for Boys, and when Harold wasn't teaching, he was off in the woods looking for butterflies or watching birds. Or reading or watching TV. He was only fifty, but he might as well have burn eighty.

Edith flung her head back, swinging her long, shiny carrot-red hair. Once again she studied her body. She felt sure that any normal man would have been eager to I fuck her. Why not find out? The only problem was, the school was located in a remote rural area, and the only other males around were their two dozen teenage students.

Edith wondered if she could possibly bring herself to fuck a boy young enough to be her own son.

At this point, the answer was yes. Definitely yes. She was so horny, she'd fuck anything with a good hard cock. She seized her soaked steamy clit between her thumb and forefinger and began to knead the slick button. Hot cream gushed from her horny cunt-mouth and trickled down her thighs. Damn Harold anyhow, wouldn't he ever finish with his stupid program? Edith frigged her clit faster.

Probably no point in waiting for him. He'd probably plead weariness and just go to sleep. If she wanted any relief from the nagging lust in her pussy, she'd have to do it herself. Still kneading her soaked love-bud, she used her free hand to rub the drooling mouth of her cunt. She stiffened her middle finger and slowly eased it into the molten hot juicing tunnel of her twat.

"Ahhhhh, God," Edith gasped. That stiff finger in her cunt felt so good.

She kneaded her slick throbbing clit faster and faster. She began to pump her finger in her cunt, working it stiffly up and down. Her whole pussy seemed near to exploding with pleasure. She needed to come urgently. Yes, to hell with Harold, she'd get her satisfaction alone. She frigged her cunt and elk harder and harder.

Just then Harold walked into the room.

Edith blushed furiously and whipped her cream, soaked hands out of her flaming-hot pussy. To her relief, Harold actually hadn't noticed that she'd been standing naked in front of the mirror, frigging herself. She could tell by the glazed expression on his face that he was still thinking about rare and endangered birds. He stumbled over to the bed and began to undress.

Edith quickly moved to the bed and stretched out. "Good program, dear?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," Harold said.

He hadn't even heard her. He was daydreaming as he removed his clothes and draped them over a chair. Naked, he approached the bed. His pale prick was absolutely limp, flopping and waving as he moved. Edith could have cried with frustration. Earlier, after dinner, he'd patted her on the ass and kissed her, which, was hot passion for Harold. She'd been sure he'd want to fuck tonight.

Well, she wasn't going to be left high and dry, not this time. As Harold started to lift the covers, she said, "Wait, dear. Wouldn't you like to make love? I would."

Harold blinked. "What?" he muttered.

Edith sighed. She wondered if she really wanted him. At fifty Harold was a scrawny little guy in glasses, his sandy hair thinning, his body wormy-pale. Not exactly Paul Newman. But as Edith's eyes drifted over his skinny body, they came to rest on his cock. So what if he wasn't the most attractive man in the world? He had a cock, and his cock could get hard.

"I said, wouldn't you like to make love?" Edith patiently repeated. "I'll be frank, darling – I really need to fuck."

Harold reddened. He'd never heard his wife use that dirty word before. But her language had an effect on him. At least he heard and understood what she was saying. He managed a weak smile and lay down beside her, on top of the covers. Edith thought she saw his limp pale cock give a little twitch. Could it be that filthy language turned Harold on?

Edith snuggled against him and said huskily, "I'm so horny, Harold. I'd just love to feel your nice hard cock in my cunt."

Harold's blush deepened – but his cock twitched again. Edith knew she was on the right track. She reached out and curled her fingers around his semi-soft prick. She squeezed and pumped the rubbery warm meat, and Harold gawked at her. She'd never played with his cook before, never used dirty words before.

"I love your cock, Harold," she breathed. "I love to fuck your cock."

That did it. Harold's prick went hard as a rock in her fist. Edith felt his dick stiffening, swelling and throbbing against her palm. She saw the dark-red head of his cock poking out of her fist, round and taut and gleaming. Below his thinning brown bush, his balls had swollen up firm and round. She released his prick and stared hungrily at it.

"Why, look at that, you naughty boy," she cooed, "you have a big hard-on!"

Harold was too embarrassed to speak, but she knew he was aroused because he was breathing fast and loudly. She studied his six-inch, stiff-standing cock and licked her lips. They hadn't done much experimenting in bed during their marriage. Tonight seemed a good time to start. Edith got to her knees and bent low over her husband's rigid blue-veined dick.

"Ummmmm," she sighed, "your cock looks good enough to eat, darling."