Donna Allen: Hard up wife

"You'll be late for work," she said.

Leona Crawford lay on her back on her bed with her legs hooked over her husband's shoulders and her body shaking each time he pumped his cock into her battered pussy.

Fucking at eight o'clock in the morning was a bore. Bob was a sweet guy and she loved him very much, but whenever he got up in the morning with a hard-on, he felt obligated to pulverize her pussy with it.

The truth was that she never got much out of it, morning, noon, or night, not in all the two years of their marriage. Leona had resolved herself to the fact that she was simply one of those women who got nothing out of fucking. She had orgasms, but she always brought them on herself, sometimes in the bathtub, sometimes while sitting on the toilet, and sometimes on the bed when Bob was not at home. She had always enjoyed jerking off, ever since the first time as a child, and she knew that without it she'd probably go crazy. She knew it was important to have some kind of sexual release.

Bob liked to fuck, but Leona thanked God he wasn't in the mood more than once or twice a week. He liked to have her legs over his shoulders, doubling her up like a rag-doll and pounding her cunt until he came. She always felt terribly exposed in that position, with her crotch up in the air, and whenever they did it that way, she always insisted on having the lights out. It was morning now, however, the room was lit by the sun, and she cringed at the total exposure.

"I'm almost there!" Bob groaned.

He was usually very fast, but this time, for some reason, he was lasting much longer. It didn't matter one way or the other – Leona never came when he was fucking her. Certain things about it, though, were pleasant. She could feel his heavy balls slapping against her ass and she liked that. It made her think of Bob as a stallion. When she was a young girl she once saw a stallion on a farm – and she never forgot that horse's low-hanging balls. Bob had low-hanging balls, and whenever Leona had the chance to look at them it always turned her on.

She liked looking at men. She liked their bodies. Bob wasn't the only man with whom she'd had sex, but he was the only one she ever loved enough to marry. He was dependable. He was sweet. He usually did what Leona wanted. They never did anything fancy in bed, no sucking or anything like that, and ordinary fucking once or twice a week was at least tolerable. Leona knew other couples did other things, but she didn't care. What other people did was their business.

Leona smiled when she remembered her girlhood. Back home in Dornville, a small town about two hundred miles from Chicago, teenage Leona had been famous as a cock-teaser. None of the boys who had been after her ever knew she wasn't a virgin. She'd spent two summers with an aunt in St. Louis, and each time the distance away from home had made her adventurous enouch to let a boy get his hard prick inside her panties. The first time occurred when she was sixteen and the result was a broken cherry and a bloody mess. The second time happened with another boy a year later, and even if there was no blood, there was a mess anyway – she'd made him pull out and his jism had splattered all over an expensive summer dress.

Leona liked turning men on. She liked driving them wild with her tits and ass and legs, but when it came to fucking she thought it was hardly worth the trouble. She also hated the idea of giving in, of just lying there and having a man stick his prick inside her cunt. The orgasms she gave herself whenever she finger-fucked were always so beautiful, Leona knew she needed no one else for real sexual satisfaction.

A deep groan came out of Bob's throat and he suddenly froze as his cock began spurting inside her cunt. Leona counted three spurts and then a week fourth. She could always tell by the way he gasped each time he shot his jism. When she was younger, she'd more than once had a boy come in her hand, and she liked to watch the jism gush out of a cock-head. She'd never seen Bob come that way and she probably never would. You didn't do with a husband what you did with a Saturday night date at a drive-in movie.

When Bob rolled off her body, Leona grabbed some tissues off the night table and stuffed them into her crotch. Having Bob's copious load of jism run out on the bedsheet would be annoying. Holding the tissues in place with her hand, she slipped off the bed and moved quickly to the bathroom. Bob would relax a few minutes, dozing like a lamb as he recovered his senses, and then he'd get dressed and be off to work. Leona hoped he wouldn't find some reason to dally. She was usually worked up enough from fucking to have a good orgasm alone, but she needed privacy. She always felt nervous doing it when Bob was in the house.

Once the bathroom door was closed, Leona sat down on the toilet to let her husband's jism dribble out of her pussy. Then she carefully wiped herself with toilet paper. There was a long mirror attached to the inside of the bathroom door, and since Leona sat facing it she could see her crotch when she opened her legs. A soft moan escaped her lips as she gazed at her fucked-out cunt. Using the fingers of both hands and spreading her thighs as wide as possible, she pried open her thick cunt-lips to look at the pink-red meat of the inside of her pussy.

She had a large clit. She'd seen pictures in a book once and she knew that hers was larger than average. She wondered if that meant she was more excitable. Holding her breath, she lightly touched her fingertip to the shaft of her clit and rubbed it up and down.

Oh, God, that feels good! she thought. Sometimes she came so hard playing with her clit that she had to piss. Sitting on the toilet while she jerked off was always a good idea.

When she heard the front door of the house slam, Leona heaved a sigh of relief. Bob had left for work. He had a good job as a salesman for an electronics firm, and Leona hoped that some day he'd earn enough money to make it possible for her to quit her job. She worked part-time as a clerk in a hotel and she hated every minute of it. She'd rather have babies. All the women she knew were having babies and that was obviously the thing to do.

The gentle massage of the shaft of her swollen clit now became a more vigorous rubbing. She probed the mouth of her cunt-hole with a fingertip. How wet she was! Her pussy-flower was weeping sticky tears of joy. She scooped some of the juice out of her cunt-hole and smeared it across her clit. A shiver ran through her body as she inadvertently touched the quivering head of her clit. Her bud was always so lusciously sensitive!

Oh, Lord! she thought. She couldn't sit there all day! Her eye feverish, her hands trembling, she picked up the electric toothbrush off the shelf. She switched it on and held the handle against her throbbing clit. The sweet sensation of an orgasm came almost at once, and she cried out and groaned in the midst of her ecstasy.

The first spasm ended and the second began almost at once. She gazed at be image in the mirror. Her tits vibrated like mounds of jelly with each movement of her body. She had heavy, pear-shaped breasts with long dark nipples. Bob was crazy about them. He said they were the ripe tits of a passionate woman. Was she passionate? She wanted to be. As much as she told herself she did not need orgasms while fucking, she knew she'd be happier if she had them. Even if Bob rubbed her off with his hand, it would be better than nothing. Of course, she'd never ask him. She was too inhibited for that. In any case, she suspected that, as sweet as he was, he cared only for his own pleasure when he fucked – and not hers.

These thoughts of Leona concerning her relationship with her husband whirled through her brain at the same time as the surge of sensations produced by the electric toothbrush handle massaging her clit. She was well an the way to a second orgasm when the chimes of the front doorbell suddenly sounded.