David Martin: Loaned wife

She opened her eyes and shivered with the remembered sensations. Where had they gone wrong? It had been a month since the last time he'd fucked her – and even then, he'd toiled mechanically over her.

Didn't she excite him any more?

She frowned, then looked down at herself as the powerful, stinging spray bounced over her smooth flesh. Her nipples were stiffly erected, the tips like twin towers of blood-engorged flesh, and they ached to be sucked and kissed and licked and fondled and even bitten.

She took the soap and began lathering herself, stepping back out of the spray momentarily and quickly working the thick, fragrant lather up. Her long slim fingers moved deftly over her skin, and she felt the excitement growing within her, the familiar wants welling up between her hips. Janet Jamison was a true sybarite, so much so that even her own touch could arouse her to a fever pitch.

Over her shoulders, down the length of her arms, back up over her tanned chest, the lather spread under her hands. She'd gotten a better tan this year than ever before since that sixteenth summer when Tom had carried her off; rushing in the old Buick to put miles between them and a posse of male relatives and rejected suitors determined not to see her run off with some stranger unfamiliar to their small town beyond the monthly calls for tire orders.

She smiled softly to herself as she recalled the way she'd quickly lifted herself over his lap in the service station, dropping her dripping wet cunt down onto the mighty, upthrust spike of his cock as it jutted up out of his pants through the fly she had opened herself just moments before.

She could remember so well how it felt when that rigid cock slipped home between her cunt walls.

Janet let go a long, low groan of pleasure as she thought of it, and her hands slipped up to cup the great, softly swollen globes of her breasts. She tested their weight, hefting them almost reverently. Here she was, thirty years old the week before, and still not a hint of sag to the great masses of sensitive flesh.

She rotated her breasts slowly, tenderly, savoring their feel as the pull of them tugged at the muscles of her chest and shoulders. She loved it when men played with her breasts, was driven to heights of pleasure by it – even when they were just a little rough with her.

She spread her thumbs away from the other fingers, letting the pads rub their way up to her stiff nipples and then push slowly, heavily over the enlarged buds.

Oh Tom, Tom, I wish you were doing this to me! she thought.

Her hands moved lower, sliding down over her ribs, palms pressing hard so that she could feel the bulge of each bone. Still lower, her hands moved inward, following the taut line of her body over the flat, gentle muscles of her stomach.

Her breath was coming more quickly. Janet bent forward, unthinking, mindless of the shower spray now soaking her hair. Her hands moved over her smooth abdomen, so compact, so flawless. It was hard to believe that from that same abdomen had come the lovely, rapidly maturing young woman that was her daughter, Penny. Harder still to believe that Penny was thirteen.

Her fingers splayed wide as she reached lower, then followed the indentation of her thigh creases down onto her strong upper legs.

She couldn't handle it any more. Janet turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub, flinging a towel across her shoulder. She didn't care about the thick, copious drops of water that splashed down onto the hall carpet behind her as she trotted towards the room she and her husband slept in. Her large breasts bobbled deliciously, making them ache all the more.

Inside the bedroom, she slammed the door shut, not even bothering to throw the little privacy latch into place. Janet tossed the big bath towel over the bed, grabbed one of the king-size pillows and dropped it expertly in place.

She didn't care if Tom walked in on her while she was in the middle of it. Maybe it would turn him on. And if Penny should waken and walk in on her. Forget it. Penny was growing even more precociously than Janet had, already drawing stares and wolf whistles from men her father's age. Penny probably whacked off more than her mother.

She flicked on the little night light, then went and knelt on the bottom of the mattress. Putting her arms out in front of her, Janet let herself ease forward, hips already shuddering slightly in anticipation of what was to come, until she settled into the center of the pillow.

She felt the resilient pressure of the foam matching the downward pressure of her pelvis, forcing the soft material up in a caress of her swollen pussy lips.

Her hands slid down beneath her stomach as she adjusted her legs to trap a fold of the pillow against her cunt, fingers worming under her pubis till the tips were against her cunt.

"Aaahhhh!" she sighed as her hands began to move beneath her. Fingertips caressed and traced the outer edges of cunt lips, feeling the wetness there as her darling slot secreted its prick hungry lubrication. She pressed and squeezed the lips, moving her hands so that her fingers would reach up to the hard, protruding button of her, clitoris.

Janet's clitoris had always been oversized, as if indicating her appetite for male members. Almost a flail inch long when fully erected.

Her fingers glided over the end of her clit, and each touch sent a shuddering spasm of pleasure through her, while at the same time heightening her need to come.

Spreading the thumb and forefinger of each hand wide apart, she ran her hands down and round the juncture of her thighs and inner crotch flesh, kneading the soft folds of pussy skin inward so that the lips of her vaginal opening rubbed against each other and the sensitive shaft of her clitoris.

Janet's hips jerked in little spasms of pleasure as her fingers worked the boiling pleasures in her cunt ever higher. Her legs clenched tightly together, the muscles in her calves and thighs knotting with tension, she started rocking up and down, the length of her body moving like a see-saw over the pillow, each shift in weight pressing her hands more forcefully against her yearning cunt.

At last the pressure became too great, the nerve endings too sensitive. She withdrew her hands and slid them again beneath herself, but this time between the pillow and the bed.

The folds of the pillow were caught between her cunt lips, the dryness of the fabric chafing the sensitive inner flesh of her labia. Her hands and fingers moved under the pillow, causing it to bunch and move like a live thing between the juncture of her wanton thighs.

Janet's ass cheeks tightened, pressed together in rapid convulsive jerks. If only Tom could walk in on her now, he'd certainly be turned on, he'd certainly tear off his clothes, revealing the length of that beautifully swollen cock of his. He'd certainly lower himself over her, putting his strong hands on her thighs and pulling them apart with the rough caress that he knew she loved. He'd certainly drag her up to her hands and knees and shove his dick inside her with all the power and force she loved.

She thought about her husband's prick, thought about his huge, hairy balls dangling below that rigid meat, so rich and full of the hot, creamy cum she loved to feel shooting home inside her twat. She imagined that he was with her, forcing his dick deep inside her, stretching the walls of her constricted vagina with the knob, so broad and purple with hot blood.

She began to come, the sensation started low in her womb and spreading outward through her. She tensed as if in a seizure, her entire body shivering, her hands clutching madly at the pillow. The small of her back flexed slightly, arching her hips back and upwards to receive the final thrusts, the ejaculatory stabs of the lover she craved so much, to open herself to the gushes of warm spunk she yearned to have splattering inside of her.