Bob Wallace: Hot willing housewife

"Am I gonna get you this morning, Roger!" Jessica said to her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

The twenty-seven-year-old blonde brushed her hair to a golden sheen. Grinning with satisfaction, she sprayed her favorite perfume between her large, pulpy tits, on her inner thighs and on her swan-like neck.

"You don't stand a chance, Roger. You've been putting me off too long."

Stepping back from the mirror, she admired her lush, naked figure – medium height, overripe tits, wispy waist, slender legs. Her sapphire-blue eyes liked what they saw. She slipped gracefully into Roger's favorite powder-blue nightie. Its glittering silk material clung deliciously to her curves. Its hem barely covered the cheeks of her heart-shaped ass. No panties, she decided, availability being the key. High-heel bedroom slippers accented her shapely legs.

Her hand touched the knob of the bathroom door, and she took a deep breath. "I'm going to fuck you blind, Roger," she muttered. After opening the door, she froze in her tracks.

Angry blue eyes stared at an empty king-sized bed. The master bedroom was empty. Her heart sank. "Damn it! Where is he?"

As if on cue, her husband stepped into the bedroom, adjusting his tie. "Hi, honey." He let out a low whistle as his gray eyes flowed over his wife's luscious body.

"I used the other bathroom," he said. "I didn't want to disturb you."

She glared at him, an incredulous expression on her beautiful face. "Where the hell are you going? It's Saturday morning!"

"I thought I'd do a little work on the Henderson account," he said quickly. "It could mean a lot of extra money to us."

She struck a seductive pose, one hip jutting out. "I thought maybe you'd do a little work on me this morning."

He grinned sheepishly. "You know I'd love to, honey. I'll only be gone a few hours."

She slinked over to him, her tits bouncing behind the blue silky material. Looking seductively into his cool gray eyes, she rubbed her body enticingly into his.

"Oh, c'mon, Roger. Take me to bed and fuck me like you used to."

His arms circled her lithe body, his large hands cupping the cheeks of her ass. Her perfume attacked his senses. "You're making it difficult, honey." Splayed fingers squeezed her meaty ass cheeks.

"I intend to," she purred, grinding her belly into the hardness of his growing cock. "I'm not wearing any panties."

"I know." His fingers touched the warm, bare flesh where her nightie came up over her flared hips. His hands roamed, luxuriating in the softness of her hips and ass.

"You're getting hard," she moaned breathlessly. Like a playful kitten, long fingers and nails scratched his face and neck.

"I can't help it, honey. You're dynamite." He tried easing out of her grasp. "We'll finish this tonight."

Jessica wouldn't take no for an answer. Her lips locked onto his and her tongue plunged inside her mouth. Soft pliable flesh ground into his hard frame. She refused to let him go.

Finally he pried himself loose and groaned. "Later."

Her cheeks flushed with anger, blue eyes glowered hatefully. Abruptly she stepped back, trembling, trying to keep her anger under control. "It's always later," she said loudly, "but later never comes!"

Roger stared helplessly at his wife. He wanted her, but not this morning. "I promise. When I get home. I'm not working my ass off for me, you know. I'm doing it for the both of us."

"Bullshit!" she screamed. The last few months of constant neglect were coming to a head. "I don't believe you anymore, Roger." Her face glowed with anger and her tits heaved with each snipping word. "You-you-you're cheating on me!"

"Stop acting like a kid," he said impatiently. His wife's accusations unnerved him. "For Chrissake, I'm not running around. I'm trying to build us a future."

"Why don't you build something between my legs – like your cock for a change. Or does whoever you're fucking around with satisfy you enough that you don't want me?" Rage, jealousy, and passion were clouding her ability to reason.

"We'll talk tonight when you're calm. I'm not going to stand here and argue with you." He turned and left.

Grabbing the first thing she saw – a table lamp – she flung it at his retreating figure. "Damn you, you fucking bastard!"

The crashing lamp shattered against the wall, just missing Roger as he went through the doorway.

She rushed out of the bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs, glaring at his back. "Maybe I'll be getting fucked while you're out!" she shouted hysterically. "If I can't get it from you, I'll get it from someone else."

The front door closed and she began to cry. Her body stiffened, and giving full vent to her emotions, she stomped into the bedroom and flung herself on the bed.

Fists pounded a pillow. She cursed him under her breath over and over again.

"Bastard, bastard, bastard!" Her jealous rage wouldn't disappear, it only grew stronger.

The sound of her husband's car backing out the driveway roused her out of her delirium.

She flopped over on her back, determined to get some satisfaction.

With a loud sounding rip, she tore Roger's favorite nightie from her quaking body, her rage giving way to passion. Soft hands found solace in caressing her flesh. Roaming fingers kneaded frantically over her frustrated body.

"Christ! I'm so Goddamn hot!" Fingers sought and found her oozing cunt. She clawed her pussy mound, parting the puffy lips. Delving inside, warm juices coated her exploring fingers.

Her moans grew louder and her soft, rounded ass cheeks thumped the bed. Throwing her head back, she ground her pussy into her delving fingers. "Oh Christ, I gotta cum!"

In a desperate attempt to climax, she mauled her cunt – bloated, purple with blood, hard. She was ready, like always. During the last few months she had been ready. But like her husband, her orgasms had evaded her.

She worked frantically on her pussy now. Humping. Twisting. Her body was all full of motion. Clawing, rubbing fingers tortured her hard clit.

"Oh, oh, oh," she ranted hungrily. Her back stiffened. Her pussy was on fire, but nothing happened.

Like the brass ring on a merry-go-round, her orgasm eluded her when she tried reaching for it. She heaved in frustration. Her glazed blue eyes settled on the bed-posts, and in her lustsapped brain they looked like cocks. She crawled to them, whimpering urgently.

Arm outstretched, she reached for the wooden post, stroked it with her fingers, caressed it with her eyes. After hauling herself to her feet, she straddled the slim wooden bedpost. With palms flat against the mattress, her weight on stiff arms, she dragged her cunt back and forth over the pointed wooden tip. Her knees buckled at once. The post gouged into her cunt, sinking deep.

Spastic cunt muscles attacked the bedpost. She felt the hard wood probe deep inside her spongy wet pussy. Her hips racked frantically, her body totally impaled. Her thick blonde hair fell over her face as she stared down at the bed.

"Oh Christ, I think I'm going to cum!" She struggled, like before, to reach her orgasm and satisfy her overwhelming lust. It was an agonizing battle.

Moaning incessantly, she ground her pussy down onto the bedpost. Heavy swollen tits felt like dead weights, jiggling beneath her.

Like a bucking pony, she rode the deliciously hard bedpost. She could feel it deep inside her, and it made her more delirious. Hot sudsy juice streamed from the pulsing walls of her overactive cunt. Her gooey cuntlips slid up and down the smooth wood.

Fingers curling inward, she gripped the sheet. Her head snapped back, her hair flying. A high-pitched squeal gushed from her open mouth. Her arms refused to support her. She crashed face-down to the bed. The hard wood didn't give, but tore painfully into her cunt. Panting laboriously, she pulled her body off the wooden post and tumbled to the floor. Again her orgasm evaded her.