J Long - Neighborhood wives

When her tits were all wet and glisteny from the frothy spit, Rachel let them hang where they were – which was down near the bedspread now because she was leaning over and unsnapping her garter belt.

"Oh, Georgie, I do hope that you'll like the rest of me."

Georgie seemed to nod as the bed sagged from Rachel's weight as she sat down on the edge of the bed and rolled off her sleek black hose.

It seemed to take years for the net stockings to be skinned off her legs. But Georgie waited patiently.

Rachel wasn't patient now. She was in a hurry. She couldn't help being in a hurry because the sensuous feel of the pet stockings being unfurled from her legs always gave her a turn-on. And sitting in such a scrunched-up position had made her garters dig into her thighs, which always gave her an extra zappy thrill. And the way her panties just dug into her cunt and hugged her asscheeks made her pussy more slippery, made her nipples harder and erecter, made her squeeze her eyes shut with the sensuous, thrilling feeling that engulfed her flesh.

With her ass brown-eyeing at George's imperturbable features, she skinned out of her panties. Then she turned around to show hint her cunt.

It was quite a strain to open her stuck-together eyes, but she managed, and now she looked at George with passion and hotness and eagerness and ardor and with her mascara running.

George looked ready. His two-foot cock was very prominent – any man with a two-foot cock would have a lot of difficulty hiding the fact that he was interested in fucking a hot and horny chick like Rachel Lindsay.

Goddamn, was she hot to fuck!

Shit, those droplets on the floor weren't her runny mascara – that splattery stuff was coming from between her legs. Yeah, her hot and horny cunt was oozing so much oozy cunt-juice that it was leaving tracks all over the carpet.

Goddamn, was she hot!

And now she had a man whom she was going to fuck, who would look her in the eye when she fucked him and who would not cringe at her face and who would keep fucking her as long a time as she wanted – or until his last dying breath.

She crawled to Georgie and straddled his legs. His balloon cock was immense and beautiful and ready.

She kissed the head of his cock, lifted up his prick by the shaft and planted many, many kisses from stem to stem, from top to bottom, from the tip of the painted cock-slit to the edges of the painted-on pubic hair.

"Do you like it when I such on your cock, Georgie? Do you like it when I run my tongue all over your little prick…" She knew it wasn't a little prick, but she didn't want to give Georgie a superiority complex – like this?

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

"Did you like that, George? Well, if you liked that, George, you're going to love it when I fuck you. When I get on tap of you and plunge that little cock of yours all the way into my cunt – and you better not come too soon or I'll bite your little balls off!"

Then Georgie was leaning forward as Rachel crawled up higher and centered his balloon cock into the core of her pussy.

She moved his cockhead back and forth against the lips of her cunt, back and forth against the erecting bud of her clit, back and forth against her clenching and unclenching asshole.

"Oooooooo, God! George! God! Whatta cock! Oh Christ! Please let me fuck your cock, George! Please!"

George didn't say anything.

Rachel came down from her sensuous high – in other words, she forced her cunt to come down over his two-foot cock. The rubbery head of George's prick bent curved and ballooned out all around the shaft.

But it was inside.

George's cock was inside her cilia!

George's cock was moving higher and higher into her pussy as Rachel squirmed her bottom and moved her cunt lower and lower onto his huge erection.

Goddamn. It felt so goooood to have a prick in her cunt. She wanted to cry out. She did.

"Fuuuuuccckkkk meeee! Fuck the living shit out of me! Fuck me, Georgie!"

Obscene squeaky sounds were coming from where George's two-foot cock had another foot to go before full penetration into Rachel's hot pussy.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

Goddamn, whatta fuck! Rachel couldn't believe it! She was getting fucked by a two-foot cock – a huge prick that was shaped more like those old-fashioned sausages that are usually hanging from some Wop deli in New York's Hell's Kitchen.

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

Georgie's painted face was oozing with runny mascara. George's huge, belly button prick was coated with drops of runny cunt-juice. Georgie's painted belly button was shiny with the sweat that poured off Rachel's tits like a wrung-out jockstrap.

What an erotic sight!

Rachel knew it was an erotic sight because that was what she saw when she glanced over her shoulder and looked at the mirror and saw the ghastly sight of her cunt being wedged open by a two-foot cock.

Goddamn! She had swallowed up almost all of Georgie's prick. Keeping her eyes on the mirror, Rachel saw that there was only a couple of cock inches to go before her cunt ate the whole thing.

Rachel couldn't stand it. The ecstasy was too great. The dizzy feeling that stormed her pussy was too overpowering. She was helpless. She had to come. She began to come! She did come!

"Oh, George! My fucking God! I'm coming! I'm coming! Feel my cunt squeeze your cock! Did you feel that – Aaaaiiieeeee!"

Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!

Then she held tight to George as her climax tore through her pussy and ran rampant over her Miss America body and made her whorish face turn red with passion. She clung tightly to her fuck mate like a sailor clings to his Mae West. Georgie's head was moving in all directions, his body bouncing and ballooning out all over the bed.

Rachel kept hunching away.

Kept bouncing her cunt up and down George's two-foot cock.

Kept fucking his big prick deep into her pussy.

Kept fucking and fucking and fucking, until her cunt squeezed so tightly on George's cock that the air cap on the end of his prick came off and he started blowing hot air back into the woman who had given him life.

"Aaaiiieeeee! No! No! STOP!"

Rachel went ape-shit with frustration. She was just starting into her second orgasm. But the air was blasting into her pussy, and the more she clung to George's wet and slippery plastic body, the more gusts of wind were being pumped into her pussy.

She writhed and wriggled and clung and embraced – but George was deflating, pouring out jets of air into her lust-starved pussy.

His cock was shrinking.

His head looked like a shrunken prune.

His smile was a shriveled, crooked line.

His prick felt like a shrunken prune.

George no longer was a date, he was a prune.

Rachel started crying. Started sobbing because George was nothing but a wheezing, dying piece of deflated rubber that could no longer keep her lusts afloat.

"You motherfucker!" she sobbed.

Georgie's cock exited from her pussy like a slug retreating from Ortho.

"You motherfucking dummy!"

Marvin Balakian was not your typical Armenian-looking man. For one thing, he didn't have hair on his chest as most apish Armenians do. But Marvin was proud that he didn't have hair on his chest – shit, there were a lot of Armenians that Marvin knew who didn't have hair on their chests. Of course, most of them were Armenian girls – like Cher, who not only didn't have hair on her chest, but didn't have much of a chest. Which is true of most Armenian grit.

Unlike other Armenians, Marvin also didn't grow grapes in his back yard, he was not covertly wealthy, and he didn't have that dark skin that most people whose names end in the suffix "ian" have, either. Marvin, in fact, looked pretty common – which was the reason why Marvin always considered himself pretty fucking insecure.