Gale Roman - Swinging wife

The more he sucked and lapped away at her cunt and asshole, the more she tried to show appreciation for his technique by pushing his cock deeper and deeper into her own throat. Though she felt there was a very real possibility that she might choke, she no longer gave a fuck. All that mattered was NOW!

But Ziggy knew he was about to shoot his sperm into her mouth and he wanted to fuck her first. Rudely he jerked his cock out of her mouth with a loud pop. Turning, he quickly mounted her, forcing his cock into her well-lubricated cunt.

Though Sally would have preferred him to suck her off to climax, she couldn't complain about this turn of events. Ziggy's cock had turned her on so much, she longed to feel it battering against her womb.

Ordinarily, she would have helped guide the prick into her cunt, but her twat was so slippery now, Ziggy needed no more than one powerful push to jam his cock balls deep inside her tight fuck-hole.

Now Sally began squeezing her cunt muscles on his prick, as though trying to milk the cum right out of his balls. Ziggy responded to this kind of special treatment by rotating his thrusts and withdrawals in a method designed to make her cry out for more.

Sally was well aware of what he was trying to do. She had fucked around enough to realize there were few techniques she hadn't already been fortunate enough to experience, but she appreciated the effort just the same. Wa teasing method resulted in contractions along the walls of her cunt that cried out for more and more stimulation.

Ziggy began battering and ramming away at Sally's cunt as though he was trying to break down the walls of her pussy. Sally was so turned an, her legs flew high in the air, offering Ziggy even closer access to her cunt.

Meanwhile, her hands were clawing at his back as her heels pounded on his ass, and Ziggy closed his eyes. His body began shuddering and shaking. Sally knew he was about to explode inside her cunt and this increased her excitement even more. Her body took on such a frantic heaving and bucking that Ziggy had all he could do to keep his cock in her quivering cunt.

"Oh, baby!" he shouted. "I'm going to come!" And he sent load after load of hot sperm gushing inside her slit. So much, in fact, that spoonfuls leaked out and stained the sheets.

As for Sally, one last brush against her clit by Ziggy's thick cock, and her body went into uncontrollable spasms. She gasped and moaned and seized Ziggy so fiercely, he felt sure her nails would leave long trails for his wife to see. Fortunately, her clawing and animal-like behavior didn't last too long and the two of them subsided into a contented silence that lasted for almost fifteen minutes.

Ziggy was the first to speak.

"You're some little wildcat," he told her. "I'd like to fuck and suck you a lot more!"

"Tonight?" Sally asked. She really hadn't planned on spending the whole evening out, just in case Bill should call.

Ziggy gave a grunt. "You're a lot younger than me," he told her. "No, not tonight. But I would like to see you again."

They dressed, and Sally left her number with Ziggy with careful instructions on when was a good time to call.

"Here," he offered, giving her his card which was wrapped inside a hundred-dollar bill. "Let's not lose touch with one another."

No chance of that! Sally thought as she drove back down the mountain towards her house. Gosh, she had enjoyed the shit out of herself this evening. More than ever she was grateful that she was married and had the kind of freedom, yet protection most single girls didn't enjoy. She knew when she took the money that Ziggy had reduced her to the status of a whore, but this was not at all offensive to the horny Sally.

That night, as she lay alone in her marital bed, fingering her sore cunt and remembering what a great fuck Ziggy had been, Sally vowed to keep her marriage up as long as Bill remained in the dark. He was necessary to her survival. But not in the usual way most husbands were.

Bill had the idea that his wife was playing around on him for a long time. But this hadn't really bothered him. As long as he was free to pursue the only thing that was important to him, he didn't give a shit what she did with her time.

He needed Sally as his wife. She was presentable, vivacious and not a bad cook. In his profession, having an acceptable wife was an asset, and Bill, in his pursuit of higher ambitions, didn't have the time or the energy to go and replace her.

That didn't mean, however, that he didn't enjoy fucking around on her. He thought to himself that Sally would probably die if she knew what her supposedly up-tight husband did on his business trips!

Right now Bill was riding along in a plane with Fran, the copywriter on his account. Fran was in her late twenties, a black-haired girl with a perfect heart-shaped face and a sparkling personality. Bill hadn't fucked Fran yet. But he was sure this was possible. To begin with, she had just been assigned to his account and he knew she was as ambitious as he was. Bill liked ambitious people; he could relate to them. One of the things that turned him off to Sally was the fact that she seemed to be content in her role as housewife. For Bill, who functioned in the so-called "real" work world, the women who took on the same challenges as men were more exciting to him. As long as Sally confined her extracurricular activities to the small town they lived in, Bill didn't feel threatened. However, if she so much as dared crass the line that separated this world from hers, there would be trouble.

"You're married, aren't you?" Fran was asking. Bill glanced at her. He wondered if she was making idle chit-chat or if it was really important to her.

"Yes," he told her. "I don't wear a ring, because the whole idea turns me off."

"The idea of being married, or the ring?" Fran asked.

Bill smiled. "Both, I guess," he admitted. He knew they were scheduled to stay in the same hotel, and it was his hope that maybe they could get together later that evening. However, he had to check her attitude out.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked her, trying to keep the bluntness out of his voice, if not his question.

Fran smiled easily. "Let me put it this way," she said. "If you weren't married, I'd wonder about you. That's one of my problems," she lamented. "Either all the men in the agency are married, or they're faggots!"

Bill was shocked, yet pleased that she could be so openly sexual in her opinions.

"You think so?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. He offered her his pack. Fran shook her head before continuing. "Oh, come on!" she protested. "Don't tell me you don't know that!"

Bill couldn't figure it out, but something about Fran made him want to fuck her. She was too confident, too positive that no one could ruffle her feathers.

"You mean to tell me that you don't go with anyone because of that?" he asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. "You're not a lesbian, are you?"

He figured if she could bandy the word faggot around, she shouldn't be too offended if he used a word like lesbian. He watched her closely for her answer.

Fran laughed easily. "No," she said. "I hardly consider myself a lesbian!"

This was encouraging news to Bill.

"What's your wife like?" Fran asked.

Bill wasn't sure if he wanted to discuss Sally, but he saw no way he could avoid what was seemingly an innocent inquiry. After all, Fran's work on his account was very important and he didn't want to alienate her.

"Sally?" Bill mused. "I guess you could say she's your typical housewife. Blonde, pretty, no children. I'm probably the envy of a lot of men," he added, seeing Sally differently than he had in a long time.

They chatted along these lines for most of the flight, Fran's head busily calculating the chances of seducing Bill later on at the hotel. She concluded that it wouldn't be a huge problem, but there was something stuffy about him she couldn't put her finger on. Fran normally preferred so-called "creative" types. Other art directors and writers in the agency, compared to the "enemy", the account people.