Bob Wallace: Hot naughty wife

"It's Frank." His eyes drifted to her legs as she slipped into the booth. A tightness in his groin told him the sexy lady was ripe for fucking. He grinned into her beautiful face. "What are you drinking?"

"Scotch. Straight up."

"Just the way I like it."

She watched him walk to the bar. Subtle blue neon outlined the bar, yet kept the rest of the lounge in almost total darkness. A smile played on her mouth as she thought about making it with Frank. "Why not?" she said aloud as Frank returned carrying a drink in each hand.

She took the offered drink and eased deeper into the circular booth as Frank slipped in beside her. She studied him briefly. He was handsome, tall and appeared confident. She caught the smile around his rugged mouth and knew why it was there. She liked the idea of his this stranger planning her seduction. It excited her, and for the moment, made her forget about Ray and Patsy.

"You haven't told me your name and why you were crying." He sat close, his leg pressed against hers. He heaved a relaxed sigh. She didn't move away. It was a good sign.

"It's Gretchen and why I was crying isn't important."

She took a sip of her drink, savoring the expensive Scotch. An afternoon of revenge and hopefully, pleasure… She pressed back against his leg, letting him know she enjoyed it.

He studied her profile in the dim light as she toyed with her drink. He figured she was maybe thirtytwo or three. He liked the thickness and color of her hair. Classic profile and, he remembered as they clashed on the street, her eyes were blue and she had a soft, yielding body that screamed for attention.

"Do you like what you see?" she purred, feeling his eyes on her. She turned to face him.

"You're beautiful," he said, holding her eyes with his own.

"You're handsome." She was enjoying the game. It was exciting, more daring than anything she had ever done. "You married?"

"If I told you no, I'd be lying. Does it matter?" He settled back in the booth.

"Not at all. I'm married too."

"I thought so." He took her hand.

"Do I look married?" His hand felt strong and the flesh between her thighs tingled.

"You look as if someone has hurt you." He dropped his eyes to her blouse. "Maybe I can take away that hurt."

"I'm counting on it," she said, the tingling spreading over her entire body. She glanced around. She could see no one but the bartender and he was busy cleaning glasses at the other end of the long bar. She brought his hand to her tits. "I noticed you looking at them."

Frank's hand spanned the pliant meat of her tits. "You're giving me a hard-on," he groaned.

An impish smile tugged at her mouth. She dropped her hand to his lap and boldly squeezed his crotch. "Mmmm, I'll bet it's a giant one, too."

Frank moaned as her fingers clutched his cock. "Baby, you're dynamite." He fondled her tits, anxious to leave. With his apartment just around the corner and the progress he was making, he was sorry he hadn't taken her directly to his place.

"I'm creaming my panties," she said, leaning close, bringing her lips to his ear. "I'm creaming all over." She ran her tongue into his ear and then nipped her teeth into his earlobe.

"Baby," he groaned, squeezing her tit hard. "Let's get put of here." He let out his breath.

She took her hand off his crotch and picked up her drink, draining the glass. "Damn, that was good."

"C'mon, baby. My place is just around the corner and my bed is a lot more comfortable than this booth." He dropped his hand to her lap, massaging his fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs. "We'll have a ball."

"I know that," she hummed, enjoying his touch, the game, and the excitement of doing it in a public place. "Do you mind if we have another drink first?" She brought her bottom lip into a pout. "I'm thirsty." As if to reassure him, she squeezed his crotch.

Frank groaned, but conceded. He grit his teeth and eased out of the booth. "I'll be right back."

"I'm counting the seconds." Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him leave. Her nipples hurt, the tips irritated in the tight confines of her bra. She dropped her hand down under the table and rubbed her hot flesh. Easing up her skirt she touched bare flesh, the flesh she wanted Frank to fondle before they left the quiet cocktail lounge.

"Here, baby," he said, slipping in beside her with fresh drinks. "Drink up and we'll…"

"What about your wife?"

"She's out of town."

She leaned into him, forgetting about her drink. "Hold me, Frank." She put her hand back on his crotch and tilted her head, her hungry lips waiting for his mouth.

Frank crushed his mouth to hers, amazed by her ardor as she gobbled voraciously on his dips and tongue as he plunged into her eager wetness. His hand came around her, his fingers clutching her slim neck, his other hand dropping to her lap, searching, then finding the bare flesh of her thighs.

Gretchen feasted on his mouth, hot flames of passion tilling the spongy wetness of her cunt. She squeezed his cock and chewed his tongue. As his hand found the moistness of her crotch, she broke the kiss, her dark blue eyes glowing, face flushed, and breath coming in short gasps.

"I'm creaming," she panted as she squirmed on the leather seat.

"I can tell," he rasped, plunging his finger up through her pussy gash. Her panties kept him from completing the jabbing finger-fuck. He brought his hand away from her neck and dropped it to her heaving tits. He squeezed, she whimpered. He gouged through her panties and she moaned. "You ready to come to my place?"

"I'm ready," she hissed, bringing her mouth to his ear again. "I'm ready to cum right here." She soaked his ear in spit, then sunk her teeth into his neck. "You game?" She was wild, reckless, not caring about a thing except revenge and her own pleasure.

"Are you nuts? Here?" His head was reeling. She had him crazy.

"Unless you're chicken," she taunted, leaning back into the soft leather.

"Shit, baby. I ain't chicken." He twisted his finger under the elastic at her crotch, sinking his finger into the syrupy ooze of her hot pussy. "If you want to get off, I'm just the man who can do it."

"I was hoping you were," she panted, squirming on the plush seat. She wriggled her ass and humped his invading finger. She leaned back, stared up into the darkness and licked her lips. "God, I'm so hot!"

"Unnnn," Frank moaned. He twisted around, brought his mouth to her neck. He bit hard, frustrated with her panties as they dug into his fingers and kept him from gouging deep.

Gretchen felt the same way. Her panties were in the way. "Take them off me." It was a hot whispered request. "Take off my panties." She lifted her ass and together they yanked down her panties. "Ouch, God, it's cold."

Frank grinned and looked over at the door. The bartender was oblivious to what they were doing. He returned his attention to Gretchen. With her panties off, he was free to roam between her parted thighs and he took advantage of it.

"Christ," he growled, his mouth against her throat. "You're a fuckin' oven!"

"Mmmm," she crooned, her legs spread under the table, his fingers digging erotically into her cunt. She breathed hard through her open mouth, saliva trapped in her throat. "My cunt. Rub my cunt." She humped slowly against his fingers.

Frank obliged. He pinched the hard, blood-filled cunt between, his fingers and she moaned. "Easy, baby," he rasped, his mouth against her ear. "We don't want to draw a crowd."

"Why not?" she sighed, her tits heaving, aching. She didn't care. Revenge had robbed her of reason. "A crowd would be nice." She gasped as his fingers destroyed her clit. "Don't pull it off!" She turned her head, blue eyes glazed. "You enjoying yourself?"

He jammed three fingers into the gaping hole of her oozing cunt and watched her blue eyes roll up into her skull. He twisted his fingers, enjoyed the sight of her face twisting in agonizing pleasure.