Donna Allen: Eager naughty wife

The television repairman had the color set spread out on the floor of the bedroom. "I can do a better job if I take it in," he said.

"My husband wants to see the big fight tonight," she said. "Can't you do it here. Just do your best."

"You're the boss," he said.

He picked up a screwdriver and began working on the set. "Can I get you something to drink or something?" Cheryl said. Her regular repairman was on vacation and they'd sent someone she didn't know. "What's your name anyway?" she smiled. "I can't keep calling you, 'hey you'."

"Lou Pryor," he smiled, peering inside the back of the set. "And a cold glass of water would hit the spot."

"You can call me Cheryl," she said as she flounced off down to the kitchen. "I hate formality."

She felt strangely light-headed today. They'd watched a particularly good fuck-film last night and for once Charlie had taken the time to make her come. She didn't feel totally satisfied, but at least she knew she was alive.

She filled a tall glass with ice cubes and ran cold water into it. Then she returned to the bedroom and handed it to the sweating man.

"Thanks," he said as their fingertips touched. "You've got a nice place here." His eyes paused at her tits and bore into them.

Cheryl felt herself blush. "Thanks," she said. "We like it."

She felt her pussy moisten as they made small talk. "Your wife is lucky," she said tentatively.

"Why do you say that?" he said.

"Anytime her television goes out she's got a repairman right there," she said.

"Yeah, well she doesn't appreciate me, you know. It's something like the shoemaker's kids going barefoot."

"It's the same old story," she sighed. "Marriage. It's no picnic."

"You can say that again," he said. He switched on the television. "Not bad," he said. "If you can live with the little blur here, you're in business."

"No problem," Cheryl said, sliding off the bed and walking with him out of the room. "How much do I owe you?"

They walked down the stairs and Cheryl had a strange panicked feeling that she didn't want him to leave.

"It's on the house today," he said. "Oh, no," she said. "You'll get into trouble with your boss."

"You're looking at him," he chuckled. "Meet Lou from Lou's TV."

"Oh, my," she said. "Well, here, how about some lunch?" she said.

"You're sure it's no trouble," he said as he followed on her heels into the kitchen.

"No, I'd like the company," she said. He sat down and she got busy fixing sandwiches. Her mind was a blur as she covered the table with food. Lou wasn't exactly handsome, but there was a glint in his eyes when he looked at her that she found exciting.

"Yeah?" he said, biting into a sandwich. "My wife is a woman who should never have gotten married."

"Why do you say that?" she said.

He swallowed hard and took another bite of a roast beef sandwich before answering. "She doesn't like the sexual aspect of it," he said.

"Oh," she said.

"Yeah," he said, sipping a Coke. "When we were going around together, she couldn't get enough of it. But the minute she had our first kid, she closed her legs, excuse my vulgarity."

"That's okay," Cheryl said.

"This is great chow," he said. "Have you got some more potato salad?"

Cheryl went to the refrigerator and took out the bowl of salad. She spooned some onto his plate and, sat back down on her chair.

"What's the answer to it all?" she mused. "To what?" Lou said.

"To marital incompatibility."

"Hell, for me, it's easy," he said. "How, easy?"

"I get a little action outside the house. The old lady doesn't catch on and everyone's happy."

"But doesn't that put a strain on your marriage?" she said.

"Nope," he grinned. "If more people got a little on the side there wouldn't be so much divorce."

"Hmm, that's very interesting," she said. He rose up then and stretched. "That's great, Mr. Dickinson," he said.

"Oh, you're leaving," she said.

"Yeah, unless you have a better idea," he said, his eyes glittering as he gazed down at her wobbling tits.

"Oh, my," she said weakly, hugging her arms against her boobs. "I forgot I wasn't wearing a bra."

"Hey, don't mind me," he said, turning away from the door to face her. "I like 'em big."

She blushed and turned toward the living room. "If you don't have to go yet, why not sit down a while," she said, walking slowly into the living room.

She kit as if she were propelled by some strange being invading her body. She was inviting this strange man to stay in her house. A man who'd already told her he cheated on his wife. And she was practically throwing herself at him.

He seemed to realize her quandary, because he came up behind her as she stood in the middle of the room and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Any time you want me to leave, just say the word," he murmured.

She nodded, licking her lips as they sat down together on the sofa. She realized that she was strangely attracted to the man and she was certain he was attracted to her too. He sat close to her and his thigh pressed against hers.

"Do you like movies?" he said. She nodded and he moved closer to her, slipping his arm around her shoulder. "There's some great stuff on cable."

"Yes," she said softly. "I know."

"I'm glad my man was sick today," he said. "I'm glad I met you."

"Thank you," she muttered. "I'm glad I met you too."

"Do you get the idea that there's a little electricity around here between us?" he said.

"Sort of," she whispered.

He pulled her closer against him. "I know I don't look like a leading man, but they tell me I'm pretty good with the old in-and-out," he said.

He leaned down and brushed his lips over her hair. She turned her face up and felt momentarily dizzy as she melted against him.

He kissed her softly, sliding his tongue into her mouth and holding her more tightly, until his broad chest flattened her tits.

Her pussy felt more alive than it had in months. A tiny whimper escaped her throat as he pulled her tongue into his mouth. She hadn't kissed another man like this since she'd married Charlie ten years ago. But she couldn't seem to help herself. Her cunt was leading her on.

"Let yourself go," he said.

"I will if you call me Cheryl," she said.

"Cheryl," he repeated. "You're a dish, Cheryl."

He bent down again and covered her mouth with his. He speared his tongue between her lips and she trembled when she felt his fingers on her thighs.

"What are you doing?" she whimpered.

"What do you think?" he said.

"Oh, God, I don't know what to do!" she said.

"Relax," he said, stroking her silken skin.

"I don't know if I can go through with this," she said.

"Ssshh, relax and don't worry about it," he said. "Everything's going to be okay. I'll take care of you."

She forced herself to sit still as he slid his fingers over her inner thighs. He continued kissing her, tonguing her slowly and tantalizingly and her long-frustrated body responded.

She returned his kisses, feeling her tits throb and her nipples stiffen like two little hard-ons. He suctioned her tongue into his mouth and caressed her bare thighs and she felt her pussy expel a glob of cunt juice. She tried desperately to relax her mind and stop thinking about Charlie, but it was impossible. The more she tried, the more she thought about the seriousness of what she was doing.

Placing both hands on his chest, she tried to push him away.

"Don't do that," he said.

"This is wrong," she said.

"No, it's not," he said, easing her down onto her back.

She trembled as he moved his hands under her tee-shirt. She flinched when his fingers reached her naked tits. He squeezed them gently and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down on hers.