David Martin - Loaned wife

"And what if I am?" Sid snapped angrily, in a tone of voice he'd always reserved exclusively for his competitors, a tone and attitude he'd never shown his friends. Sid was a commodity trader.

Russ was shaken by it, but still angry. "Some fucking friend of Tom's you are," he grumbled and stalked out of the house.

Some fucking husband of Janet's, Tom is, he thought.

He went out into the kitchen and took up the place beside Janet, silently taking the dish towel and drying the glasses and snack plates.

She said nothing. But she was aware of him. And she exuded an uncertain fear and excitement.

And Janet was afraid – afraid of this brutish man, always so quiet and easy going, always quick with a joke and ready to help, who had suddenly revealed another side of himself to her, the side that lusted and wanted and desired.

And that fear set off a certain pulse of excitement in her, a pulse that made her think, in turn, of the fantasies that had flitted through her mind that night, images of Koenig, naked and roused, his big cock sticking out like a weapon, a dub, yearning for her frustrated slit.

And she was frustrated. She didn't think of her husband's flare of anger. She thought of the nights she'd lain awake, wishing he'd put aside the cards and come upstairs and take her with the passion and hunger that she loved to feel in her man.

At that stage though, she was almost willing to feel that lust in any man.

She was suddenly await that she'd stopped washing the dishes, that she'd been holding one in her hand for what seemed like endless seconds.

There were no more in the sink.

Koenig reached over and took the dish from her and set it down on the counter.

Janet automatically reached out and unplugged the drain. The water swirled quietly, rapidly down out of the sink.

She picked up the spray attachment and began rinsing the suds out of the basin.

"I'll do that," Koenig said, reaching for the sprayer. Somehow, it slipped and she sprayed herself. That brought her out of her reverie as the cold water quickly soaked through the front of her T-shirt and hit her warm, golden flesh.

She laughed, and so did Koenig, and the sexual tension grew as they quieted.

And then she was aware that he was staring at her. At her breasts, which were clearly visible in all of their ripe, firm, fully curved glory beneath the clinging, transparent cotton.

"Poor Janet," he murmured in his gravelly voice. "So lonely, never gets enough attention. Poor, poor Janet, all she wants is a little tenderness, a little loving from a man."

He went on and on. The sudden beers, the disagreements with Tom, the tension of the night – they all rolled up in her. As if mesmerized, she let Koenig take the sprayer, now forgotten and only dribbling, from her hand. He dropped it into the sink and turned off the faucet with one hand, while the other reached out and went around her trim waist.

He led her out of the kitchen and down the hallway towards the guest room, still murmuring softly to her, barely able to restrain himself from taking that hand from her waist and using it to tear off the T-shirt and shorts and open his pants and shove his throbbing erection into her hot snatch.

Koenig reached out and opened the door to the guestroom. She stepped in at his gentle urging and he flipped on the little night-light on the bedside table, as the door swung softly shut behind them.

The light was dim. He turned her to face him with her back to the bed.

Then Sid reached out with trembling hands and took the bottom of the shirt between his thick, strong fingers. He lifted it, peeling the wet cotton away from her flat belly and heaving breasts, exposing the luscious mounds of sensitive flesh to his lusting gaze.

Her breathing quickened as she let him lead the shirt up over her head. As her arms rose, her breasts heaved out towards him, tilting upward. They seemed to beg for his hands and lips and tongue to caress them and afford those rich curves all the attention they'd deserved and been denied for so very long.

Her arms came away free and she let thorn fall back to her sides. Her breasts echoed the movement with little ripples of soft flesh, little movements, shock waves, that only emphasized the pliability of those resilient mounds.

Koenig took her hands in his, pressing his thick, wide lips to her palm momentarily before guiding her fingers to his shirt front.

She began undoing the buttons.

Koenig released her hands and slid his own along her arms, savoring the touch of her soft, smooth shoulders under his fingers, then slipped both hands down inside her arms to rest lightly on the great, warm slopes of her breasts.

He moved his hand round and round her tits, letting his fingers know the joy of those full curves, before finally letting his hands come up beneath them, lifting and testing the heft of her breasts.

Her nipples were already stiffening, but under his touch, they blossomed into great, inviting buds of dark red, almost brown lust.

His shirt fell open, and her hands rested on the waist of his pants. Her fingers moved, and he felt the waistband open.

Koenig sucked in his breath as her hands then moved upward again, trailing through the thick mat of dark hair over his broad, muscular chest. Koenig was heavyset, but there was hardly an ounce of fat on him. He simply had a big frame, and he was solid with muscles. Even his stomach, which seemed at first to an excess, was almost flat – it was simply so wide that it seemed fat. It wasn't. His stomach was crossed with hard muscles just beneath a layer of flesh and hairs.

Janet pushed his shirt back off his shoulders, her eyes closed as if she did not want to see the man with whom she was doing this.

But that was all right with Koenig. He wanted her body, not her heart.

As her hands moved back down to his waistband and her fingers lowered his zipper, Koenig began moving slowly towards her.

She had his pants open and pushed them down, hooking her fingers into the waist elastic of his briefs as well. Both garments went lower, lower, as he drew nearer to her.

And then he was against her just as they dropped around his ankles. His prick popped free against her as his arms went around her, pulling her close to him. He kissed her lightly on the temple, then let his lips move slowly down the side of her head to her ears.

His tongue explored the inner windings as his teeth scraped over the shell-like edge. Finally, he nibbled gently on her ear-lobe.

He felt her suck in her breath, her breasts pushing against his bare chest, her swollen nipples like fiery points dining against him.

And then Janet became aware of something pressing, throbbing urgently against her. At first, she was confused by it, unable to comprehend what it could be so hard and throbbing and hot against her bared thigh, and then she realized it was Koenig's cock.

It's too big! No one can be that big! she thought.

But as his lips and tongue and teeth nibbled and kissed and licked down the side of her neck to her shoulder to lave the sensitive softness of her smooth shoulders, as he twisted his head to continue moving his mouth down towards the yearning flesh of her tits, she knew she wanted his cock.

But it was so big! She could feel it's thickness, throbbing against her through her shorts from just above her pubis down past the bottom of the leg of her shorts. She could feel the glans, fat and hard as a child's fist, pulsating against her thigh halfway to her knee.

His knees bent slightly and he brought his mouth down to her breasts even as his hand found and held her full, firm ass cheeks.

He traced his lips down along the gentle upper slopes of her tits, moving them as if he were speaking directly to her raw, overexposed nerve endings.