Mary Moore - Whore wife

"Ohhhhhh, more, oh, please mom," she was begging now of her fingers. "Oh, man, oh, make me come again. I've barely begun." Linda knew she was good for two or three more times.

And each time, she knew from experience, would be different. She knew that there was infinite variety in her orgasms. Some were deep and silent inside her. Others were sharp, quick and electric and achieved by hard, insistent rubbing on her clitoris. Some were long and expansive. Some were short and merely minor peaks. But whatever gave her relief… she couldn't complain. They were all paths to the same glorious height!

She tried for a repeat performance. She let them travel where they wanted throughout her crotch, over the fine but dense strands of blond pubic hair, over the soft inner thigh skin, down into her moist, sweet honey hole, back into her sensitive, tight anal hole.

"Mmmmmmm," she moaned, feeling the powers rise within her again. It was like a wave hitting the shoreline. Linda saw Tim eye her magnificent hand-maneuvers in the mirror and bring himself to orgasm.

"Ngbngbngh," she heard him moan and watched his cream pour out again and again with every forward thrust of his groin until he was empty. Then he moaned and lay back down on the bed.

In a moment he was snoring.

Now Linda could relax freely. Even though it was a turn-on to have her husband watch her bring herself off, she was more relaxed when there were no spectators around. She thought now she'd try a few sexual exercises.

She leaned back on the dresser bench, with her upper body hanging over the edge. That made her body spread itself even more. All the while she fingered and thumbed the smooth, soft, moist folds of her cunt-lips, moaning softly with every tiny thrill.

Her free hand reached up to her softly swaying tits, pinching their sensitive nipples and railing them around in the palm. She touched her sensitive underarms, her soft neck. How she wished Tim were kissing and nibbling her now!

A wave of disappointment passed through her as she sensed the reality of this lonely moment, and remembered her resolutions for a better future. It nearly depressed her. But she swore she wouldn't let it, not at a time like this.

If she could have eaten her own pussy in that moment, she would have! How she longed to have the sweet sucking mouth of her husband upon it right now! He used to eat her off all the time. But not recently. No more. That was a thing of the past.

She'd go for any man's mouth on her hot cunt right now, yes, any man's! Dare she think it? Yes, even a woman's! Why not? So long as it was a warm, sweet sucking mouth that could give her lasting pleasure, what did she care who it belonged to? The more male the better, of course, but she wouldn't complain.

Thousands of fantastic images passed through her mind's eye just then. Sucking mouths hundreds of saliva drops dripping from them – all pointed in the direction of her hairy cunt.

They were all aimed at her like so many cannons. Closer and closer they came, each about to touch her with their barrel-like tongues. Finally they did touch her cunt, and tiny little explosions, thousands of them, went off.

Meanwhile her fingertips traveled over her pussy, inside and out, prodding it into action. She felt deep inside her cunt walls, rotating her fingers around and around, widening the ever-wettening hole.

"Mmmmmmm," she moaned. It was going to be a big one, she knew. Like a storm building.

She stuck the ring finger of her left hand into her anus with a jolt, enjoying the tingling pleasure inside the tight sphincter muscle. She dipped that finger in and out of her shit hole and aroused all the sensitive anal nerve endings.

Her middle finger jutted in and out of her cunt hole like a pile driver. She knew just where to brush back and forth over her delicate clitoris.

"Ohhhhh, man, oh, this is too much, oh, I don't know if I can take it!" she cried.

"Mmmmmmm, oh, do that again," she whispered, "oh, that feels good, oh, that feels wonderful. Mmmmmmm."

Her temperature seemed to go up ten degrees at a time. She thrust her pelvis far up and forward with each digging-in of her fingers. Deeper and deeper they went each time, and the lower and lower sounded the sensuous growl in her throat.

Her other hand kept squeezing her nipples as her cunt muscles squeezed together. She drummed up a new fantasy now, this one of a man even more handsome and virile than her husband, more dashing, more beloved, and with an even longer, thicker penis.

In her mind's eye, he came closer, with his hand and his dick extended to her, mercifully, to put her out of the pain of her miserable desire.

The phantom man's dick slid tightly up her twat, and she sighed out loud. It was such a contentment to have a man's thick dick up her, as if nothing else in life would please her.

"Mmmmmm," she smiled, her eyes closed, feeling her fingers jut far, far up into her soft interior.

"Oh, my God," she said aloud, "oh, oh, oh, here it goes, oh, I feel it coming now, oh, at last, mmmmm," and she whacked as hard as she could, unwilling to let the near-orgasm escape. She didn't want it to short-circuit. Neither was she patient enough to let it take its own course.

She was sweating profusely now, between her breasts and between her thighs. The sweat droplets there were mixing profusely with the drops of juice lubricating her pussy.

She smelled herself. It was a pleasant, erotic smell steaming from off her soft skin. She looked at her body stretched awkwardly over the dressing bench, her heels supporting and balancing her. She would be stiff after it was all over, but she didn't feel the least uncomfortable now. All she was aware of was the rising tide between her legs that would quickly alarm all the other parts of her body.

She rubbed and rubbed, thrust and thrust. Now her body's resistance was about equal to the rising surge of orgasm. But the dam was about to give.

She rubbed and thrust harder. At last her resistance broke and the wonderful quivers and shivers melted over her body.

"Oh, oh," she gasped, "ohhhhhh," and she heard herself moan deep in her throat. She kept scratching the itch in her triangle and the soft pleasure released itself again and again, traveling up and down her spinal cord that grew rigid with every wave of the orgasm.

When it subsided she nearly fell off the bench. But she regained her balance and didn't move. She kept passing her fingers again and again over the soft folds of her pussy. She fingered their now swollen, super-sensitive places, and ran her fingers through the thin hairs. She breathed rapidly, her chest heaving, as she tried to get enough air. Her heart was still beating fast.

Oh, too much! she thought, laughing, too much! Oh, man, did that feel great. Fantastic. Now she wanted to hold Tim, hold his male hood in her hand, nibble his earlobe. Maybe, just maybe [missing text].

She eased herself to a sitting position on the bench and threw her left leg over with the right. She managed to rise to her feet, stiffly. She rubbed one ass cheek and groaned. It felt like the muscle was pushing right out of it.

She took a step and groaned again. Then she felt better and walked slowly over to the bed, eyeing her prone and sleeping husband all the way.

She got into bed, easing herself down along beside him. He stirred in his sleep and pulled her arms around his neck. She sighed contentedly and snuggled next to him.

One of her hands slipped down to his groin. His dick seemed neither slack nor erect but somewhere at half-mast.

"Later, honey," he whispered, "I promise." He was soon snoring again.

"Like hell," she muttered to herself, but her body was too satisfied to complain. She fell asleep, determined to have Tim when he awoke, but promising to put resolution number one into effect that night.