Mary Moore - Whore wife

She ate him feverishly. She sucked and drooled all over his hard sword. The only sound in the room was her sucking and an occasional grunt from him.

"Oh, baby, suck me off, suck me dry!" he crooned. His balls slapped against her face and cheeks as she ate him right down to the root of his stem.

"Come, oh, come, baby," she called back to him, though her words were muffled in his groin.

She could tell he was getting hotter and hotter, higher and higher. She was getting so excited herself that she was digging her teeth into his staff.

"Ooooh, don't do that," he pleaded at one point, and at another, when her jaw slipped and her teeth nipped him lightly, he startled. "Ow, honey!"

She kept pawing his balls with her one hand and thrusting a forefinger in and out of his anus with the other.

She was getting worried about the late hour when all of a sudden he came. His whole body was shaking as he pumped his cum into her mouth.

She felt his cream gush into her mouth, and she swallowed as fast as it came.

For a split second she feared choking on it, there seemed so much. But she kept on swallowing. Finally she knew she could handle all of it. And what was left on his cockhead, dripping drop by drop from his flagging dick, she lapped up eagerly with the tip of her tongue.

"Mmm, Frankie, you taste good," she said. And with that she took a handful of her long blond hair and wiped off his stem with it.

"A noble gesture," said Frankie, impressed.

She laughed. But she found herself getting depressed. She eyed his now-slack dick and felt the inner cravings of her still unsatiated cunt.

Her fingers went to her blond mound and she unconsciously began playing with herself. She still needed more.

Frankie eyed her. He was lying down beside her. Then he got up again. "Let me go wipe myself off," he said and went over to the small wash basin in the corner. He took a towel and wiped his dick. Then, putting the towel down, he picked up a brush and began slowly and carefully brushing his hair back in place. He took a hand mirror and brushed the back of his hair carefully. Linda stared. She'd seen nothing quite like it before.

Five minutes later he was finished. She had to smile to herself.

"You look fine," she said. "Tell me, do actors always take care of themselves as well as you do?"

"Primp, you were going to say?" asked Frankie. "Yes, my dear, I, we, like looking nice. And since I must be on my way back to my hotel shortly, I thought it would be good to comb my hair."

"Oh," Linda said. "Your hotel?" She just looked at him. She didn't know what to do with the great hot cravings still seething in her pussy hole. He wanted to leave already?

He put a hand over her mound of Venus. "You didn't get enough dear, did you?" he asked. "I'm sorry. I guess after a play I just don't have the energy to go on forever."

She looked at him. His change of attitude startled her. "Don't you care?" she blurted.

He got all flustered. "Of course, I care. Well, what can I do? You come charging in here to a private party after the play. I mean, I didn't know you were coming!"

"I have news for you, Frankie," she said. "I'm not coming. I mean, I guess I came once, but as they say, once is not enough." She got up and pulled her panties and bra back on, then her skirt and top. She pulled her panty hose in place and slipped into her pumps.

Marching to the washbasin, she picked up Frankie's brush, pulled out the black and gray hairs and began brushing furiously. She was fuming.

"I don't know what you're so sore about," Frankie said gently. "Really, I have a full day of rehearsing tomorrow. This doesn't have to be the last time, you know. You can come here again," he said. "In fact, I'll take you out. That is, if your husband doesn't mind seeing you around town with another man."

"I'll have to think about that," Linda said stubbornly. "I don't know I don't know what he'll think. I don't even know what I think right now."

"That's not uncommon," said Frankie gently. "We all have times like that." He pawed. "That's why it's good to have one's work to hang on to."

"I don't work. Yes, I do work." She changed her mind, and continued brushing, hard, savagely. "I cook, I do the laundry, I clean, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."

"You're a housewife. That's not the same thing, I guess."

"No? Well, I don't know what I can do." Linda paused. And frowned. "All I want right now is a man who cares about me, a husband or a lover, enough to make love to me every single night of the year."

"Impossible, my dear." Frankie shook his head. "Except, perhaps, that's not true. You're lovely and you're sexy. Why shouldn't a man want to make love to you every night?"

She wheeled around. "Yes, why not?" she implored. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Frankie. But I need it. I need it so." And she burst into tears of frustration. She held the brush to her crotch and wept.

Frankie came over. "There, there, my dear, don't cry. Nothing's wrong with you. Please don't cry. Everything will be all right. Why, some women don't even like sex! There's something wrong with THEM!"

He took bet in his arms and comforted her. She sobbed on his shoulder. Her tits brushed against his chest.

"But Frankie," she sobbed, "I'm so horny. So frustrated. I mean, all the time! I can't go on like this. And now I have to go home to a husband who's going to wander where I've been for the last two hours."

"Now I'm worried. Didn't you think of that?" Linda sobbed some more until she had no more tears. "I'm sorry," she said meekly and drew away. She didn't want him any more. She just wanted to go home.

"Will you call me at the hotel tomorrow?" he inquired. "I'd call you, but I don't think that would be too wise."

"Sure, I'll call," she said. "Where are you staying?"

"The Roosevelt," he answered. "Room 825."

"I'll remember," she promised. She paused. "Would you take me to my car now?"

"Of course." He finished dressing, brushed his hair once more, and flicked the light off. "Avanti!" He guided her out, kissing her once more just in front of his dressing room door. Then he goosed her and she giggled. He placed her arm in his own and they walked together through the stage door out into the warm, seductive evening. She wished suddenly she could take him home with her.

When she got home it was twelve-thirty. Tim was waiting up for her. She greeted him cheerily, but abruptly, gave him no opportunity to say anything and marched off to bed.

When he slipped in beside her, it was she who moved to the other side this time, wrapping herself in the top sheet. She didn't want him to touch her. She'd had all the sex she'd needed that night, after all. When he started patting her ass, she ignored him.

The next morning, she phoned the YWCA and inquired about their female assertiveness training course.

"You're in luck," came the brisk reply. "The second six-week session begins tomorrow night. Fifty dollars. You can register when you come. Starts at 730."

And the woman hung up. Assertive little bitch, thought Linda. Well, if I can manage that after six weeks, it'll be worth the – but where do I get $50?

She had to think fast. Multitudes of ways went through her mind. Stealing from her husband… except she knew he never carried that much at one time. If she'd saved her allowance from last week, she'd have enough. But she hadn't.

She could work temporary for a day, but those places usually didn't pay till Friday. That wouldn't do. She needed the money Wednesday night.

The inevitable thought came to her. If she didn't have anybody to borrow from – her girlfriends didn't carry that much money either, and if they did, they would want to know what it was for and she didn't want to tell anybody – perhaps she would have to earn it in ways known only to the world's oldest professionals.