Robert Mills - Slut wife

She would remember it for the rest of her life, she told herself. It was so new, so exciting. She could feel his hot tongue dragging down across her flesh, sending twinges of pleasure from her tits to the ups of her cunt. He kissed her tits, licked around them, then worked his way down across her stomach to the area where the tuft of black hair sheltered the lips of her cunt. The closer he came to her pussy, the more she wanted to cry because it felt so good.

She spread her legs to give him freedom. Twinges of rapture darted through her.

"You'll love this, baby. I promise, you'll love it."

He was back licking her pussy and she wanted to understand what he was doing. It was easy to respond, to let him know she was a woman. The soft licking on her cunt made her quiver again and she giggled nervously.

He paused, peered up at her face. "Like it?" he asked.

She sighed happily. "I love it. It's absolutely wild."

Then he was between her legs again, licking her thighs, thrusting his tongue into her cunt, lapping the little nub that triggered all sensation. He flicked at her clitoris, lapping up the sweet cuntjuice that welled from her.

She raised her ass and moaned.

"Oh Jesus, I want to fuck! Please, let's fuck!"

He crawled up over her, supporting himself on one arm while he aimed his cock at her slippery cunt. She thrilled again at the touch of his prick, anticipating when he would thrust it into her. This is it. Finally, this is it. His cock is there and soon he'll be fucking me.

She could see the huge shaft of flesh aiming toward her pussy, rushing forward to force entry into her eager cunt. Then he was inside her, his stiff cock fucking her hot pussy.

She could feel his immense balls banging against the crack of her ass and the pressure he was exerting on her pussy was doing things to her.

How different this was from the way Martin always fucked her. His was a slight, wishy-washy, push-in pull-out routine that was very boring. Jesus, why couldn't he fuck like Roger!

She clenched her fists, straining to hold still so he could fuck her better. She was cooing, whispering words, blurting a passion she had never known before.

"Fuck me, Roger! Push it hard! Slap it, oh fuck me, please! Fuck. Fuck! Fuck hard, Roger!"

He was driving his cock into her begging cunt like a plunging piston. Then as the sensations began to build within her cunt, she swung her head back and forth, as if keeping time to his thrusting cock. Her arms encircled his neck, holding his head down while his ass rose and fell.

"It's good, Roger. It's so good. Push your cock real deep, honey. It hurts so good! I love the way you fuck! Do you hear me, Roger? I love you fucking me!"

She could hear him panting and could feel his hot breath on her cheek. He was fucking so fast that she couldn't keep track of his movement.

She really didn't care. He was fucking her and that was all that mattered. Do you realize that, Martin? I like the way Roger is fucking me! He sucked my cunt; he licked my tits! I wish now I could have sucked his cock! You know, Martin, I feel sorry for you! You don't even know what good fucking is!

She felt his body jerk as he ejaculated and after another hard thrust, he fell flat on her, limp and breathing hard. She rubbed his back, felt the soft skin of his ass, then reached down and stroked his balls. The soft hair gave her another sensation of pleasure and she realized that she had been missing so much.

Fucking was wonderful, she decided. It was also profitable. She realized now that she hadn't received any money from Roger for sharing her body, but somehow she didn't care. Fucking him had been so much fun that, if he should ask again, she would do it again, for nothing.

It was four o'clock Monday afternoon when Melissa arrived home.

She would have to start dinner first, she decided. She would have to fix Martin something especially good. She could fix pot roast. Martin loved post roast.

She had just started cooking the roast when thephone rang. It was Anderson.

"I'm flabbergasted, Melissa!" he sang into her ear. "We have an order for the entire summer line and Maginis is so pleased they are licking my hand. How did you do it?"

"An order for the whole line? Me?"

"You did it, baby. You sold one of the best orders of the year. Queen put in an order for five dozen of everything. He especially wants the outfit you wore today. Boots, hose, halter-the whole bit. You made a hit, baby."

Melissa was astounded. She hadn't expected anything like this.

"I don't know what to say.

"Then don't say anything. Just keep up the good work."

"I'll try."

"Oh," Anderson said. "Be sure to see me in the morning. Queen left a nice tip for you. Five hundred dollars. You really got through to him, Melissa."

Melissa was amazed by the information. Roger Queed had left a tip of five hundred dollars. She had been given five hundred dollars for permitting Roger Queen to fuck her. He had paid for her cunt in the form of cash and an order for dresses. That made her a prostitute, or, to use the more fashionable name, an expensive call girl.

She could see Martin was in a petulant mood when he arrived home. He stalked in from the garage, dropped his briefcase on the small table in the entry hall and stormed into his den without saying hello. In a few minutes, he entered the living room, picked up the evening paper and turned it to the sports page.

"Is there something wrong, dear?"

He looked at her from the top of the paper. "Not really."

"You didn't kiss me when you came in."

He grunted and shifted the paper so he could read better. "Sorry, honey, I was thinking." "You didn't even say hello."I was thinking about the office." "Is it something bad?"

"No, not that kind of bad. It's just that I won't get the senior partnership. Nagel plans on giving it to one of the fellows down in planning."

"You won't get the promotion? After you joined the country club?"

He shrugged, but she could see he was still disappointed.

"It didn't help. I guess they figure I'm not good enough."

"But you said."

"Never mind what I said," he told her curtly. "Old man Nagel decided on Michaels because his wife makes cock-hungry eyes at him."

"That can't be true."

Martin grunted, showing his disgust. "It's true all right. At that last meeting, Michaels brought her along. She and Nagel sat over in a dark corner for two hours and I know he was fingering her cunt."

He slapped the paper down on the floor beside his chair. "That's what gets promotions, Melissa; the boss finger-fucking your wife!"

"That's not true!"

Martin was getting mad. "It's office politics, Lissa. A man's wife has to butter up to the boss or you can't get anywhere in this business. I wish there was some way you could help me.

"I do help you, Martin," Melissa blurted. "I paid for your country-club membership."

"I mean things that count," he muttered. "Like getting this promotion. I was depending on the money to pay the guys at the club."

That was it. Melissa stomped her foot.

"Would it please you more if I permitted Mr. Nagel to finger-fuck me?" she demanded.

"Melissa!"

"Well, that's what you said, Martin! Would you?"

"Of course not!"

Martin buried himself back in his paper and Melissa went to take care of her roast. She thought about the promotion and Mr. Nagel. After dinner, she took two one-hundred-dollar bills from her purse and gave them to Martin.

"It's a bonus for helping sell a large order," she explained. "My wages and the bonus came to just two hundred. You can pay that gambling debt with it, Martin."

Martin stared at the money, caressed the two bills. "It's fantastic," he told her. "That modeling thing of yours is worth while after all."