Gale Roman - Swinging wife

"Fuck me! Fuck me now!" she repeated, bouncing her hips up and down.

Bill moved up between her legs and guided his cock into her hole. He hoped she was tight. Her inhibitions were nonexistent, leading him to believe she had fucked and sucked around so much, the inside of her cunt might resemble the Suez Canal. But her snatch was surprisingly tight, and Bill gratefully rode into her narrow fuck-hole with several hard thrusts. He could feel the sweat on his own chest mix with hers and their bodies slipped together as their grunts and groans drove them further along the road to climax.

Fran pumped and thrust her hips higher and higher in a seeming effort to buck Bill right off her body. But her tightly gripping arms around his back insured her that he would never escape her grasp until she had exploded with him.

She felt as though his cock was a battering ram that was trying to punch out her womb, and though it was a violent thought, the sensations from this beating meat were exquisitely pleasurable to her.

She knew she would positively glow at their meeting that afternoon. Her cheeks would be flushed with a blush no amount of rouge could duplicate. Her eyes would sparkle with the memory of her pleasure. It had always been this way for her. From the time she had been named homecoming queen in high school. The principal, Mr. Briscoe, had called her into his office with the news.

Fran had always been attracted to Mr. Briscoe, as had half the girls in the school she went to. He was very young for a principal and, best of all, unmarried. Jokes in the girls' room would abound about who would be the first to seduce him.

Fran was fond of saying that Mr. Briscoe wasn't stupid enough to forfeit his career for a fuck, but she secretly felt that had she the opportunity, she could get him to drop his drawers. How she would engineer that opportunity was a mystery to her, but Fran had always felt if something was meant to be, it would happen.

As she stood in his office that late fall day, she knew the opportunity was staring her in the face. Or rather, at her tits.

This was an encouraging sign to Fran, who studied the way Mr. Briscoe's long dark lashes almost hit his cheeks as he averted his eyes from her tits.

"Homecoming queen is an honor few girls can look back on," he began, pointing to a seat opposite his desk and indicating that she should sit down. Fran had slid into the chair, careful that her legs should be slightly sprawled so that her beaver might be readily seen by Mr. Briscoe.

And when Mr. Briscoe thought he had seen a flash of pussy hair, he almost came right on the spot. Girls in high school were a lot different these days, he thought to himself. They seemed to have no shame and always to be on the lookout for some sexual encounter. He wished he had had those experiences for himself when he was in high school, but, his memories consisted mainly of groping in the back seat of his father's car for a cheap feel.

Fran smiled boldly at Mr. Briscoe.

"I'm flattered," she told him, letting her eyes give more meaning to her remark than her simple words.

"We've instituted a new policy far homecoming queens," Mr. Briscoe went on, clearing his throat in an effort to assert to assert his fast-fading authority in the situation. "The winner must give a speech at assembly, stating why she thinks she deserves this honor."

"When?" Fran wanted to know. She wondered if she would have time to think up a speech, or if she would have to improvise one.

Mr. Briscoe glanced at his watch. "I'm calling a three-thirty assembly for this afternoon," he said. "For all the teachers and the student body."

At the use of the word body, he allowed his eyes to once again caress Fran's form.

"What time is it now?" Fran asked.

"Two o'clock," he answered. "I might add that I'm interviewing several girls for this honor, in case your speech doesn't quite measure up to the standards I've laid down."

Shill Fran thought. How the fuck am I going to come up with some sort of winning speech in an hour and a half?

She felt the tension build throughout her young frame. Oddly enough, an itching and throbbing occurred in hey cunt as well.

"You look nervous," Mr. Briscoe observed. "Are you feeling well?"

"I'm all right," Fran said quickly. "It's just that you took me by surprise!"

I'd like to take you by real surprise! Mr. Briscoe found himself thinking. He had personally selected Fran as the winner, exercising his power of veto over the student body without their knowledge. In the five years he had been principal he had never seen a girl so sexually precocious (at least in appearance) as Fran. He wondered if it was her European heritage that gave her the look of a ripe woman when in actuality she couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Whatever it was, Mr. Briscoe wanted to fuck the shiv out of her, but he had to be careful. If she was as smart as her grades led him to believe, he hoped he could count on her discretion as well.

He glanced again at his watch. He would have to hurry. Mr. Briscoe didn't like the idea of fucking Fran in his office too much, but he didn't have any other choice. Suddenly he came out from behind his desk and locked his door. The gesture was the making of the situation. If she expressed alarm, she would have read her wrong.

Fran heard the bolt snap, but with a feeling of relief. No other act could have told her so clearly what she wanted to know. She turned to face Mr. Briscoe now with more authority.

"You know something?" she asked the older man. "There are plenty of girls in this school who would give their eye teeth to exchange places with me right now!"

Mr. Briscoe smiled broadly. This little cunt would soon be impaled on his prick.

He came over to where she sat in the chair and put his hands under her armpits. They were dry. Raising her gently, he brought his mouth down to hers and prodded open her lips with his searching tongue.

Fran felt his tongue enter her mouth and a thrill shot throughout her entire body. She could smell his male scent and her heart began to pound. Her hands fluttered around his back, yearning to pull him close, yet afraid to show such hunger. But Mr. Briscoe's desire for Fran gave her own new confidence.

"My God!" he murmured, breaking away from her and peering down into her face. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"

Fran smiled. Her silence showed him she was learning how to become a woman.

"We don't have much time," Mr. Briscoe said in a low, urgent voice, and his hands moved up underneath her short skirt. Instantly he found the patch of her beaver and stuck his index finger into her cunt. Slowly, very slowly, he began to caress her clit, massaging the thickening button around and around with his carefully clipped finger.

"Oh!" Fran gasped, spreading her legs even wider. She began moving her cunt back and forth on his finger, her back arched and humping.

Mr. Briscoe was grateful that he didn't have to spend a lot of time to get her cunt lubricated. In fact, he had never felt a juicier snatch.

Fran's hand was now grasping his fly, her deft fingers unzipping Mr. Briscoe's pants expertly. As his dong shot out, Fran gasped at the size and thickness of his prick. She fell to her knees and put his rod in her mouth, sucking away like a contented child.

As much as Mr. Briscoe loved a blow-job, he knew they didn't have, a lot of time for foreplay. He raised her to her feet again and pushed her back towards his desk. Fran felt the cold wood underneath her back and though she flinched for a second, their body heat was so intense she soon found herself comfortable again.

"I'm going to fuck you!" Mr. Briscoe was saying, as though Fran didn't know this. "I'm going to stick my prick up in your juicy cunt and fuck the shit out of you!"