Gale Roman - Swinging wife

Sally enjoyed getting her cunt eaten out by a woman so much that she often wondered if someone hadn't done it to her when she was a child. It gave her a feeling of security, of being totally loved and admired.

"Oh, Lisa!" she moaned. "I love you when you suck on my clit!"

Lisa didn't answer Sally, but her renewed efforts to bring Sally even greater enjoyment were received by her friend as exquisite communication. Lisa knew that whatever Sally might say while they were engrossed in making love was not to be taken literally but she liked hearing a response from her partner. It enabled her to lose that sense of loneliness that suffused most of her waking hours with the kids and her husband. At least with Sally, she felt as though she was touching her in a memorable way. A way that would not end in the routine chores of taking care of a household. What she enjoyed with Sally was so special, she hoped that Sally would never come, for that would end everything. Unfortunately, at the rate she was sucking and licking her friend's cunt, it was hard for Sally to sustain this kind of enjoyment forever. She felt her body start to convulse and knew that her orgasm was near.

"I'm going to come!" Sally announced with surprise and wonder. "I'm going to fucking come! Don't stop, dear!"

Stopping was the last thing Lisa had in mind but Sally had no insurance that this was so. When she was so close to orgasm, her greatest nightmare was that the source of pleasure would be withdrawn and she would be left with a throbbing, unsatisfied feeling that would make her go crazy. But Lisa's tongue, eager to bring her to the brink of climax and beyond, never ceased in its efforts. Sally rode the crest of the most exquisite feeling imaginable until she was left gasping and worn out on the bed. They lay quietly together for a while.

Lisa was the first to speak.

"I wish we had more time," she said. "But I really have to pick up the kids."

Sally kissed her lightly on the mouth, smelling her own cunt-juice and beginning to get all excited again. "I know," she said. "It's only the end foi now."

After Lisa had left, Sally felt as though she still wanted a cock shoved up her cunt. Though the day had brought her a dynamite eating-out session and one fuck up the ass, what she really wanted was not on the horizon. Pretty soon her husband Bill would be home, but that was about as exciting as the arrival of an I.R.S. audit team.

Sally had thought many times about divorcing Bill, but her situation was too comfortable for her to allow it to become a reality. What would she do if she divorced him? At best, without any children to support, she would have to go to work, and that was unthinkable. Not that she was lazy, she just preferred to spend her time in different pursuits. Like the search for a big cock. She could become a hooker, that much she had considered, but then she would become enslaved by her desires, forced to take on men she didn't really want.

As Sally busied herself in the kitchen, she glanced at the clock over the stove. Bill should be home any second now, expecting dinner to be on the table. If Sally had been a bit braver, she would have left him, but as yet she had only the courage to seduce men, not to leave them.

The next hour flew quickly by as Sally pretended to be the average housewife. Then she heard Bill's car in the driveway. She had already had several drinks so that the disappointment of his arrival would be cushioned by the alcohol.

When Bill entered the kitchen door, Sally was struck as she always was by his average good looks. She would have found it a lot easier to dislike him had he been less attractive.

Bill's cold blue, eyes surveyed the activity in the kitchen.

"Boy!" he began. "What a day!" He threw his newspaper on the kitchen table and took several deep sniffs.

"Smells good," he commented. "What are we having?"

Sally always had mixed feelings around Bill. She attributed part of it to her guilt, but suspected it went a lot deeper. Sometimes she wondered if he fucked around on her, if that was the reason their sex life was so bad. She told him what they were having for dinner and Bill shrugged. "Okay," he said without enthusiasm, "Call me when it's ready."

Taking his newspaper with him, he disappeared into the living room. Sally knew it was his signal to her to mix him his drink, and she set about this task with a vengeance. If she could get him drunk, really drunk, maybe he'd hang loose and give her a good fuck.

She mixed an extra powerful Scotch and brought it to him in the living room.

"Here," she said, standing in front of him and feeling for all the world like his fucking slave, "I've got your drink."

Bill lowered his newspaper and peered over the top of it at Sally.

"Oh," he said, as though in surprise, "thanks."

Don't mention it, Sally thought to herself, but she said nothing aloud and returned to the kitchen. She hated waiting on him, but she knew it was her duty. The only way she had arrived at taking out her hostility at him was in her fucking around on the side. She often felt that had he been interested in her as a person, she might have remained faithful to him.

While he sat in the living room, Sally mixed herself another drink. She could hear the rattle of his paper and she wondered why he didn't find time to read it elsewhere. Why was it that he never let up, that his desire to succeed in advertising was so overwhelming he had no private or social life?

How on earth had she ended up with him? Sally knew a lot of the answers lay in her own failings as a person, yet she wasn't in any mood to question her motives. As her mother would have said, "You made your bed, now lie in it."

Sally bated that expression. The only bed she wanted to lie in was an occupied bed. Bill was coming into the kitchen now, cutting into her private thoughts.

"Make me another, will you?" he asked, extending his empty glass towards Sally.

Sally yearned to suggest that he make his own drink. But she didn't. As she set about refreshing his glass, it occurred to her that he really did very little for her. Handing him his new drink, Sally smiled demurely and, announced: "Dinner is ready whenever you are."

"Let me finish my drink, will you?" he asked with some annoyance, disappearing back into the living room with his paper.

Sally stared at his disappearing back. She would have loved to have told him what had happened that day, but decided against it. What would be the point? If she would divorce Bill, she wouldn't have a house to operate out of. She would no longer be a horny housewife with countless opportunities to fuck. She would be a single woman again, busy supporting herself in some office.

It wasn't too long before they found themselves seated at their dining-room table, eating. Sally stared at Bill, waiting for him to say something. Finally, Bill spoke.

"I'd be going out of town for several days," he told her. "We have a client meeting in Ohio and I have to go. Could you make sure I have enough clean shirts and socks to take with me? Pack my bag tonight. I have to leave tomorrow."

"You know," Sally replied, "sometimes I feel as though I'm nothing better than your mother."

Bill's eyes flashed into alertness at this unexpected remark.

"What's that remark supposed to mean?" he asked dryly.

Sally smiled sheepishly. "Oh, you know what I mean," she said, trying to cover the intensity of her remark with a smile. "We never go anywhere together. We never have any people over. It seems to me that all I do is pack your bag, do your laundry and say good-bye."

"Look," Bill said with the exasperated air of an adult talking to a child; "You're my wife. You should have understood when you married me that my career was important. Why are you trying to hassle me about it now?"