J Long - Neighborhood wives

"I'm coooommmmniiinnnggggg!"

Finally she was coming; Herbert Marcuse's wife was coming!

"I'm cooommmmiiiinnnnggg! Please don't get soft! Hold your prick up, Herbie!"

Herbie Marcuse tried to hold his prick, but after two hours of constant fucking his prick felt like rawhide.

"Herbie! Please! Goddamn, your cock's going soft! You motherfucker!"

Herbie strained his lanky body, tried to put effort into the thrusts up into his wife's cunt. It was useless his cock was too limp.

Marcie Marcuse slumped over, felt Herbie's worm like cock crawl put of her pussy. God, she needed prick!

"Herbert… oh, God! You know how I need to get my rocks off. My cunt's burning up! Look at it, Herbie… look at my cunt!"

"You know I can't see without my glasses."

"Then put your fucking glasses on and take a good look at your wife's horny cunt!"

Herbie leaned over, retrieved his wire-rims from the nightstand, put them on his lean face and stared at his wife's cunt. He hated when Marcie begged him to look at her cunt. He just didn't like the way cunts looked, especially from the close-up position that he had to assume to see how much her cunt was burning up.

Herbie adjusted Marcie's legs as she lay on her back with her hands opening up the red-raw meat of her pussy.

"Herbie, look how wet it is. Couldn't you just get it up one more time?"

Herbie face was a foot from her cunt and he wanted to gag, to retch all over that stinky hairy slit tat his wife presented to him so obscenely.

"Look how juicy the lips are, Herbie. And my clit! Jesus! My clit is harder than your cock."

Her clit was very obvious to Herbie. It was that little pimple at the top of the slit, and maybe about a half-inch below it there was a gigantic meaty hole that looked hungry and starving.

Herbie wanted to pinch his nose. Why do cunts stink so bad? Why do they reek of sweat and leftover chuck roast. Herbie watched his wife work her fist into the gaping hole of her pussy, watched her form become glisteny with cunt-juice. The smell was just downright atrocious.

Of course, it wasn't the first time that Herbie had seen a cunt. He was a typical average man who had probably seen his first cunt in some medical book that libraries, if they had their own way, would have filed under Perversions. But that medical book never said anything about smell, or the rank odor of a cunt in heat. All it had was little armor spearing into various places and telling horny little boys who shouldn't be looking at pictures of cunt that this was a cunt, this was a labia major, and this was where babies came from and this was where the piss came from.

Sickening. The smell that is.

Herbie's gasses started to fog up. He just had to move away from that furry, sweaty, meaty hole that his wife was fingering so fast.

But Marcie's ankles caught him right behind the neck. She wanted to tell him to go ahead and stick his head in her aunt, fill her cunt full of his lean face. She wanted to scream out for him to go ahead and tongue her pussy, that it would be all right, that eating aunt wasn't perverted, nor was it dangerous, that it didn't give guys food poisoning. Cunts don't bite back like rabid dogs, they're very passive, only needing a little action every once in a while to keep the lips limber and moist.

The slurping noise was coming from somewhere north of Marcie's sloppy pussy. Herbie looked up, could make out his wife's fuzzy face through the foggy glasses. She was licking her lips, her tongue coming out like some snake in the grass, licking over the luscious bottom lip, then the bared teeth, then the upper lip.

Herbie knew that his wife was asking him to eat her pussy. Oh no! He'd retch for sure! He'd gag and vomit all over her cunt – and then Marcie would be very pissed. He knew that nothing would turn a woman off in a romantic situation like having her mate barf his dinner all over her hot cunt.

But he couldn't eat her pussy. Just couldn't.

Marcie nodded her head, licked her lips feverishly. She raised her hand, stuck a stinky pinky beneath Herbie's nose.

"Smell how hot my cunt is."

Herbie pretended to take a big whiff. It came out more as a yawn than a man sniffing the luscious odors of his beautiful wife's cunt. Oh God! The bile was past his Adam's apple and threatening to reach his tongue.

Marcie's cunt finger touched Herbie's nose, ski-jumped off the bridge of his nose and lingered on his lips.

"Herbie… would you mind doing something for me… er, far my cunt? You probably think it's silly of me to ask, or maybe you'll think I'm just being naughty," Marcie giggled.

The taste of cunt was within tongue's reach, and Herbert wanted to swallow his tongue, choke himself on it, preferring to die that way than to have his ass beaten to death by an irate wife who wanted her cunt eaten.

Herbie couldn't do it.

He shook his head.

"Oh, Herbie!" Marcie whined. "Please… my cunt's so hot and your prick isn't worth a damn now. I've got to have something."

What could he say? How could he help his wife in her time of need. "Y-You could use your f-fingers."

"OH! You son of a bitch!"

Marcie's cold feet were planted firmly on Herbie's throat, right on the spot that his bile was having a difficult time of deciding to come out as vomit or end up as stomach add.

"aaaaiiiiieeeee!" Herbie screamed as Marcie kicked out savagely. He tumbled off the bed, landing hard on the foot.

Marcie turned over, clutched her peignoir and soaked her tears in the gauzy material. "Y-You in are the fucker, Herbie. All you had to do is be nice and… and eat my pussy… without… making those horrible faces?"

"I-I understand, Marcie," Herbert answered, getting on his hands and knees and searching for his glasses. Jesus, he could barely see his own hand as it swept across the rug, hoping to bump into his wire-rims.

"Y-You don't understand… you beast!"

"B-But, you've got to understand my side, too, Marcie," Herbert replied as he made several hand-passes beneath the easy chair. "A woman's privates… her pussy just isn't… well, it's not for consumption but for giving birth and things like that. Besides, some doctors think it's very unsanitary… to do this…"

"Dirty! Herbie! Are you calling my cunt dirty? Why you motherfucker! And I suppose you think your cock is a clean cock?" Herbie bumped into the dresser, made a grimace.

He rubbed his head and looked over at the shadowy figure on the bed. "Well, Marcie… it's a medical fact that a man's organ is easier to keep clean than a woman's, er, thing."

Marcie sobbed, tears flowing down her cheeks, dropping on her hot tits and warm cunt. "Oh, Herbie. W-Why can't you do it? Why? I always suck your cock when you ask me to."

Herbie crawled toward the door, both hands making sweeping motions in front of his crouched body. Where the hell were his glasses?

"Marcie, I've never asked you to suck my cock. You know that."

"You mother-fucking liar!"

"Marcie, I wish you wouldn't cuss like that. Susan might hear."

"Fuck Susan."

"What? Marcie! That's our daughter you're talking about."

"I didn't mean it like that, Herbie. I meant forget Susan, not fuck Susan."

Herbie bumped into the door. Jesus Christ! Where the hell were those fucking glasses?

"Marcie," Herbert replied, rubbing his headache. "I had no intentions of messing around with our daughter."

"Oh shit! Herbie, don't change the subject." Herbie was under the dresser, his hand moving all the lint and dust that had collected under there since Marcie had last vacuumed – which had to be five years ago because that was when the Hoover broke down and Herbie hadn't fixed it yet. Of course, Herbie couldn't fix it, because he didn't know what was wrong with it. So the Hoover lay in fifty thousand pieces beneath the bed just the way Herbie had left it when he had dissected it to find out what was wrong with it.