J Long: Neighborhood wives

"Herbie, you hear me? I want to talk about your refusing to eat my pussy. Everybody else does it… why can't you?"

Herbie raised his head.

Bonk.

Jesus, why do they make dressers with only six inches of floor clearance when most people had eight-inch diameter heads?

"Whose been eating your cunt?" Herbie asked somewhat angrily.

"What?!"

"Who's been eating your cunt!" Herbie said, doubly angry now because his head had cleared and he could envision the milkman, or the mailman eating his wife's cunt while he was down at the unemployment office. "Have you been fucking around behind my back, Marcie?"

"Oh, shit, Herbie, I haven't fucked around with any man since we've been married."

Herbie sighed with relief. He was happy that Marcie had answered correctly because he wouldn't know what to do if she had said: "Yeah, I been getting cock on the side – from guys who love to eat pussy. Unlike some people I know." Because if she had said that, Herbie would have had to do something. And usually when Herbie was confronted with a confusing situation – which was usually on days that end with the letter Y – he would do nothing.

His hand bumped into something wet and cold and sticky and smelly. He pinched it once, but it slithered out of reach. Herbie strained, grabbed hold of the object and brought it out from beneath the dresser.

Marcie gasped.

Herbert wanted to retch.

It was a rubber… a used rubber, a very used rubber because it no longer held its original shape and the reservoir tip looked as if all hell had broken loose and white gooey crap was oozing like fresh snot all over Herbie's trembling hands.

"Marcie!" Herbie asked, shaking loose of the Trojan Extra Large. "Whose is that?!"

Marcie didn't know what to say – unless a gasp is considered something that people say. "I-I don't know… could it be yours?"

Her voice sounded very meek – so did Herbie's. "Marcie, were… were you t-telling me the truth about never cheating on me?"

"Oh, Herbie! Would I lie?" she lied.

Herbie knew it was a lie, even though he couldn't make out her face through his 200/20 vision; her voice had given her away. Marcie, his wife of seventeen years, had been fucked by some cock other than his own. She had cheated on him, fallen for some guy who probably ate pussy like delicious pizza and had a cock big enough to wear a Trojan Extra Large.

Herbie stood up manfully. He moved to the closet to get his robe and the extra pillow that they used when Marcie wanted to fuck in the missionary position with her hips propped up. He moved quickly.

Herbie found his glasses… not with his hand but with his size-twelve feet.

As Herbert's defeated body sank into the cushions of the living room sofa, he hated himself. He had somehow decided coming down from the bedroom that he was to blame for what had happened to Marcie.

She was a hot-blooded wife married to a man who could fuck twice a week, but who just couldn't fuck his wife decently twice a night like she wanted. That was why Marcie had picked up on some strange cock – it was his fault because his prick just didn't have the stamina that some other prick had. Besides, his cock would never tit into a Trojan Extra Large rubber.

Herbert shut off the light and snuggled into the blankets. He stared at the ceiling, which he could barely make out.

Maybe it was in mid-doze or in pre-slumber when the pressing problem seemed to fade and vision of his wife when she came to him.

Were they really teenagers when they were in the back seat of his father's '57 Chevy fucking for the first time in their young lives?

Marcie wore her hair in a French twist then, and all during the preliminary foreplay her French twist had unraveled and beautiful blonde strands were covering her youthful titties.

Herbie had a crew cut then, because it fit his image as junior class President, and now the sweat was pouring off his one-eighth inch hairs like water off a duck's back. Shit, any teenage kid would have been sweating like crazy if they were about to fuck a girl as luscious and as popular as Marcie Dixon, the only junior girl to be elected to the pompom squad.

"Oh, Herbie!" Marcie exclaimed nervously. "I've never done it before. I'm scared."

Herbie wiped the sweat off his forehead, stared at her titties as they shimmered in the moonlight that poured in from the windows. His arm squeaked on the tuck-and-roll as he put it around Marcie's naked, trembling shoulder.

"D-Don't be scared, Marcie. It's really… lots of fun."

Marcie shyly tried to hide her titties, but there was just too much to hide because for a teenager, she had tits that must have weighed ten pounds apiece. And what made it worse, or better, depending on how you looked at them – and plenty of guys looked at them – was that her mother would make her bras one size too small because that way her mother could always think of Marcie as her little girl.

Now the only things Marcie's hands could bide were her nipples, and she seemed to be crushing them in her nervousness.

"Oh, Herbie. It'll hurt. I know it'll hurt. Jeanie Parrish said that she screamed and bled for three days when Toby Carter put it in her."

"Nab," Herbie replied, his eyes bugging out as he saw all that exposed tit-flesh. "It won't huff at all. It's just in your head."

"Oh, Herbie!" Marcie cried. "I don't know; I now when you feel me up, I get all tingly… uh, down there. But… oh, I know it'll hurt."

Herbert couldn't resist those tits. He shifted around in the seat, tried to bring Marcie's head in close to his for a kiss. What he planned to do was kiss her and keep her mind off her tits so that he could get his hands on them – that's the way they had gotten into the back seat in the first place, that's what had allowed him to getter sweater off and her too-small bra.

Marcie felt just like Doris Day as she leaned into Rock Hudson to kiss him tenderly. She leaned into Herbie and kissed him tenderly, flicking out her tongue.

Herbie didn't care about kissing, he just did that to divert her mind while he got his hands on her titties. He got his hand on her titties – oooooooooh, his cock was just going to rip his Levi's all apart!

Marcie's eyes shot open when she felt Herbert's hand urging hem urn of the way and nabbing insistently for her nipple. She tried to concentrate on the kiss, tried to get Herbert's mind on kissing and away from her titties.

Her hand moved up steadily, pushing his hand away from her left tit.

Herbert's hand retreated momentarily, then quickly it moved down and came up underneath her palm to reclaim her erect nipple.

Marcie moaned.

Herbert's lips buzzed as he washed his lips to hers.

Marcie had hold of Herbert's wrist, preventing him from moving his hand up and down and all around on her hot tittie.

Jesus! Her tit never felt like this before – nor had they ever been felt like this before. It was the first time that a guy had seen her tits naked. It was the first time that a guy had touched her tits when they weren't in her too-small bra. It was the first time that she ever felt her cunt running over with juice.

Herbert's knee was up on the tuck-and-roll, and he had Marcie's head mashing into the seat cushion as he kissed her hard and passionately, feeling her tits. Jesus! Her tittie felt so firm, so Goddamn hot and sweaty. Christ! Her rolled her nipple, feeling the springy flesh throb in his hands.

"Mmmmmmmnnnnnn!" Marcie groaned.

She closed her eyes and bathed in the luscious sensations that surrounded her hand-held tittie. Everything felt so supremely delicious – yes, maybe Herbie was right. Maybe the pain of the first fuck was only in a girl's head. Oh God! Her panties were just sopping with all that runny cunt-juice.