John Damon: Balling horny wife

Susan rested comfortably on the bed while her mind returned slowly to the present, the visions of Ben floating from her, leaving her alone with the harsh reality of her own hand on her damp pussy, her fingers plunged deeply within her still aching cunt.

She stroked her pussy slot with her fingers, sliding them in and out of her honeyed pussy gash almost idly. Her thumb occasionally flicked against her stiff clit, shooting sharp bolts of pleasure through her agonized cunt.

Susan thought of John's prick, her pussy ready to settle for whatever pleasure he could afford her if he were only there. But unfortunately he wasn't, and there was nothing left for her but her own hand, a very unsatisfactory substitute for the real thing.

She spread her cunt lips apart, roughly massaging away the aches that invaded her loins. Her nipples were swollen and hard, bulging from her tits, begging for the warm comfort of a pair of loving lips.

She closed her eyes again, trying to tell herself that all of her earlier sex life had, not been good. Her fingers plowed in and out of her creamy pussy gash, stoking the fires that smoldered in her cunt.

She could see the beautiful lake, so peaceful and serene, the dark, cool woods that grew almost down to the water's edge. It was a scene that any pastoral artist would have delighted in capturing on canvas, the darkness of the woods, the depths of the broad water, reflecting the crystal blue of the springtime sky.

The fire blazed in her cunt as she pictured the scene once more in her mind's eye. Her clit tingled at the memory. She could see herself her naked, teenaged body thrashing and heaving against the hard earth as the strong, masculine arms held her tightly. Cold, cruel, eyes stared at her bare flesh, and, mouths laughed at her feeble struggles against odds that she didn't really want to overcome.

Ben sat under the tall tree, his bareback resting against the rough bark, tilting the can of beer to his lips while his friends took their turns with the young girl who had thought she was special to him.

She fought them, but it had been hopeless. One after another mounted her, plunging their hard, hot pricks into her cunt, treating her body savagely, showing no regard for her own feelings and needs.

Over and over, pricks penetrated her pussy, wedging themselves into her cunt, sliding wetly through her creamy pussy tunnel, pounding their loins with their thick cocks. They shoved aside her cunt lips, stroking in and out of her body, fanning the flaming, brightly burning fires in her clit. The cocks fucked her mercilessly, slashing at her flesh, driving her wild with desires that she could not express, her hips throwing her cunt upwards toward them.

Her tear-covered face was salty, wet, her pussy flooded with her own honey and their hot cum. Gushers of spunk sprayed into her pussy, splashing around as the next hard cock poised at her cunt slit, penetrating her with its fat knob and plowing its thick shaft into her cunt walls. The pricks were lashing at her pussy slot, driving her insane with a passion that could not be quenched without the love that should have gone with it. Her pussy became a simple receptacle, a place for them to deposit their ism, as she did little more than jerk their pricks off with her pussy.

Susan recalled that she had stopped struggling after a while it really wasn't worth the effort. It was easier to lay back against the hard earth, her legs spread, her cunt filled with spunk and let them fuck her. She lay quietly as they changed places, one cock becoming like the one that preceded it. They positioned themselves, plunged into her dripping cunt slot, stroked in and out several times and gushed a new load of jism into her already too full pussy tunnel and then moved away so that the next one could take his place and accomplish the same thing.

Her cunt was sore. It ached from the constant chafing of their fat pricks against her delicate pussy lips. Her clit seemed to grow numb from the stroking it had received. Her mind separated from the rest of her body, stood aside, and watched while the cocks fucked her. Pricks sliding wetly through their companions' cum as load after load of jism swelled inside her cunt slot and spilled out onto the earth.

The water had been delightfully cool against her feverish flesh when they finished with, her. She didn't even care that they lounged about wood's line and watched as she washed herself clean. Her cunt felt chapped and irritated as she cleaned herself, bathing their spunk from her tired cunt, letting the delightful, water slosh over her pussy until she felt cleansed inside and out.

Susan found it amusing that every one of the seven boys who had raped her that, day, Ben included, had the nerve to ask her for a date later in the school year.

Back in the present, she stretched her legs out, forcing her back against the bed as she finger fucked herself. Tightening her cunt around her fingers as they flogged her pussy, she whipped them in and out faster and faster, stirring her cunt juices as they filled her pussy slot with creamy honey.

The rape reminded her of John. He used her body to little more advantage than the high school seniors had done. Her pussy had become a place for him to stick his cock and squirt out his cum and little more.

Yet she knew that she loved John, and that in every other way he was an excellent husband. There had to be some way, she told herself, to get him away from the puritanical ideas that ruled their sex life together. She yearned to go down on his fat cock, to suck it into her mouth and taste his jism, hot and wet, spraying down her throat. There had to be something she could do to get his mouth against her aching cunt, to feel the thrill of his tongue darting in and out of her creamy pussy.

Her fingers were doing her no good and she knew it. Like fucking with John, it had become an exercise in futility. She rose from the bed and slipped on her robe.

The hurt in her pussy was still there, a constant reminder of failure.

Susan sat on the little balcony staring put over the city in the early morning light, the haze burning away as the sun gathered its strength.

Her eyes clouded over with tears again as she thought about her troubles with John. She rested her head on her forearm on the small table, sobbing softly to herself, saddened that there was no simple solution to their problem.

The soft voice jerked her away from her moment of self-pity. She looked up to see Karen coming through the metal gate that separated the two balconies.

Karen sat her coffee cup on the table and put her arm around Susan's shoulders. "Hey, neighbor, you got a problem today? What's wrong?" She sat down her face lined with concern.

Susan brushed away the tears, forcing a smile. She had chatted several times with her gorgeous, redheaded neighbor, but they had never really been friendly. In fact, John had not approved of their new neighbor, since the noise of her often wild parties had disturbed his sleep several times.

"Oh, nothing," Susan mumbled.

"Look, honey, when a wife starts the day out crying, there can be only one answer. Husband trouble. I know. I've been down the marriage trail before."

"Well, yes, I guess so…" Her voice trailed off.

"Husband sleeping around, is he?"

Susan shook her head. "No. Never. Not John." Karen sipped her coffee. "Then, it has to be a bad sex life. John not giving you enough?"

Susan was shocked by the open frankness of a woman who was little more than a casual acquaintance.

"In a way." She suddenly was overcome by an urge to talk about it, as if that would, in some way, help her feel better. "It's just that John is so straitlaced and uncaring about my needs."

"Tell me about it." Karen's voice was sympathetic.