Bob Wallace - Overeager orgy wife

Fred, the first to cum, began to slow, his squirting jizz diminished, his cock drained by her ass muscles that had squeezed all the cum out of him. His cock was now shrinking inside her hot gripping asshole, and he groaned.

Her pussy was still stuffed with Steve's fucking cock. She squealed and devoted the last of her soaring orgasm to him, riding his cock hard ad fast, her hips churning in constant modes, her body in constant orgasm. Her clit was a tiny piece of raw meat being mashed by Steve's slamming prick. Cum gushed from her pussy, bathing the skewering cock in hot cunt cream. Her hot slick pussy juice mingled with Steve's stringy drools of cum.

Steve's ass whacked the carpet, up and down, his cock flooding her pussy with his thick cum-load. He saw her exquisite features change from one lustful expression to another, his fingers sinking into her fleshy tits. His hips slowed, his orgasm subsided, and his cock stopped spouting cum. Barbara's floundering body atm held his prick captive.

"I'm creeee… nnningggg!" She skittered lightly in the last throes of her orgasm. The intensity, so staggering for so long, abated, and she floated back through the clouds. "Ooooo, God!" She went into a series of convulsions that sent her into unconsciousness. She twitched and fell forward on Steve.

Steve held her quivering body for a moment, them eased her off. As he stood, he gazed down at her motionless body. She had fucked herself into a stupor.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he said to Fred.

In minutes, they were gone, leaving Barbara with her ass and pussy stuffed with their cum.

Barbara, silent and remorseful, staggered upstairs to shower. But the horrible things she had done could not be washed away. They would haunt her forever. She dressed sullenly, the tears long since gone, her mind now hardened. She glanced around the room. She would miss the place. She began packing, slowly and methodically filling up her luggage with her clothes. Carl wouldn't miss her; he was too wrapped up in making it with with every young girl he could find. Frank had been wrong; Carl wouldn't change.

She couldn't go on like this anymore. She couldn't take another orgy like the one she'd had with Steve and Fred. She had to get away, search within herself, find out what she wanted in life. A sad smile crossed her lips. She knew what she wanted: Carl.

She strained herself picking up the heavy suitcases that were bulging with clothes. She forced back her tears as she left the bedroom she had shared with Carl for eleven wonderful years. The time for crying was over.

Step by step, she carried the suitcases downstairs. When she reached the bottom, she heard the click of a key in the door. She stood and watched the knob turn, it would be Carl, and she didn't want to see him.

"Damn it," she muttered to herself. "Babs!" he said, a smile on his face. His eyes lowered to the suitcases on the floor. "What… where are you going?"

She sniffled. "I'm leaving you, Carl." She was trembling, but she couldn't stop. She refused to look into his eyes. She kept her stare level with his shoulder, afraid that if she looked into his eyes she would cry.

"I said I'm leaving you." Her knees bent as she picked up the suitcases, one in each hand. "Would you move away from the door please."

"You're crazy! You're not going anywhere." His smile had vanished. He moved, but not for her benefit. He blocked the doorway and kicked the door closed. "I think we better talk."

"We have nothing to talk about," she told him plainly, taking a step around him. "Nothing at all."

He grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to drop one of the suitcases. "Yes we do." His mouth grew hard.

She jerked her arm away. "Go to hell!" She reached for the suitcase and grabbed it again. "I'm leaving you, and you're not going to stop me!"

"Like hell, I'm not!" he snarled. He grabbed the suitcase and flung it across the foyer. It thudded against the wall. He reached for the other suitcase in her hand. "Give me that!"

"Here!" she shouted, swinging the suitcase and hitting him in the ribs with it. "Let me out of this fuckin' house!" At she swung the heavy suitcase again, he deftly avoided it, and it flew out of her grasp. It went crashing to the opposite wall, the contents spilling out over the floor.

"You bastard!" she yelled, pushing him away, going to the opened suitcase. She knelt down in front of it, angrily stuffing the contents back inside, tears spilling from her eyes. "Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!" She was shoving her clothes back in…

Carl watched her. "What is the matter with you? I thought you loved me."

She tried closing the suitcase, but couldn't. Her angry eyes looked up at him, cold and hard. "I thought you loved me!" Her hands were trembling, pushing down on the lid. Clothes sticking out on all sides of the suitcase kept her from shutting it.

"I do, baby. Christ, I've always loved you."

"You're full of shit, Carl," she said, finally locking the suitcase. "I'm too old… I'm over the hill… I'm not a kid any more. Does that sound familiar? You don't love me." She retrieved the other piece of luggage. "Just let me leave. I'm tired, and I don't want to argue."

"You're not going anywhere until we talk." He kicked the other piece of luggage away when she reached for it. "We're going to talk, Barbara."

"I'm done talking." She was going to get by him, even if she had to do it without the other suitcase.

He grabbed her shoulders with both hands. "Christ, I was only kidding when I said those things. I mean… shit… we're both growing older."

"Everyone does," she said coldly. "I'm not over the hill. I'm still desirable and even sexy." She looked him in the eyes this time, unafraid of crying.

"I know that, Babs."

"Then why don't you make love to me any more?" She was holding her face for last. She was going to let him hang himself with his lies.

"I'm busy… my job… Christ… we're not kids. I got responsibilities…"

She laughed richly. "You're full of more shit than I thought." She stared hard. "I saw you with Dorrie at that lounge." She fed it to him a piece at a time. She saw the shock on his face before he had a chance to recover.

"You're not too busy to fuck her." She started for the door again.

He grabbed her again and spun her around. "Then it was you I saw in the lounge. Who was that man?" He was indignant with rage.

She stared at him incredulously. "You've got to be kidding! Where do you get off asking me that! For months you've been fucking Dorrie and anything else you can find under twenty-one and you've got the gall to ask me who that man was!" Her bitter laughter transformed into hysterics.

Carl shook her, "Who was he?" He knew she was telling the truth, but the thought of her doing the same as he outraged him. "Who was he?" He was blinded with jealousy.

"He was the man I backed the car into," she told him, calming down. "We went into the lounge for a drink, and he made a pass. I turned him down… then I saw you with Dorrie… and I went to a motel with him, and he fucked me just like you fuck Dorrie." She tried breaking free of his grasp, but failed. "Let me go, you bastard!"

"You whore!" He slapped her, his jealousy robbing him of reason.

She blinked, seeing the jealous hurt in his eyes. "He's not the only one," she added, going for the jugular. "Last night at the club, while you were eyeing all the young pussy, I was outside fucking one of the drummers and sucking the other one."

In his shock, he released her. She went for the door.

Carl went into a rage and wheeled her around. "You fuckin' tramp!"

"You're right, Carl. I am a tramp. I like fucking, and I like to be desired and wanted." She purposely omitted Frank and, his son. "While you were at the club today," she continued, "fucking some young cunt, the drummers and I had an orgy and I took them both on again. It was fabulous!" She found she was screaming. "They appreciate me! You don't! Go fuck your young girls!"