Bob Wallace: Overeager orgy wife

Barbara Reynolds stared unhappily into the rear view mirror as she backed out of her parking space at Shoretown Mall. More interested in an imaginary wrinkle than what was going on behind her, she didn't notice the other car going by. The sound of crunching metal startled her. She slammed on the brake, jerked the car into park, and cursed under her breath.

"Damn it," she murmured, her fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel. "Dammit all!"

After three deep breaths, she cut the motor and composed herself before climbing oat. She opened the door and eased her long slender legs out, her skirt gliding up her thighs. In one fluid motion, she was on her feet and walking to the rear of her car to survey the damage.

The angry man had climbed out of his car and was looking at his dented fender. He looked up, his face red with rate. "What the hell do you think…" He stopped hollering; she was beautiful and looked upset. His tone changed as he came around and took her arm. "Are you all right?"

Barbara forced a smile. "I am, but your fender doesn't look too good."

"It can be fixed," he said. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

Holding her arm, he felt an attraction to her. She was gorgeous and built, with thick deep-red hair and flashing green eyes. He forgot about his car completely when his eyes settled on Barbara's huge creamy tits straining against her sweater that, to him, sadistically hid her tits from view. His only thought was to see her unencumbered by clothes.

Barbara smiled at him. "I'm insured." She felt the strength in his grip. It calmed her down a little. She suddenly realized it wasn't the end of the world; she had only dented his fender and broken a taillight on her own car. "I'll get the information out of my purse for you." She started for her car.

"Forget it," he smiled. "You can give me everything while we're having a drink." He escorted her to her car. "I'll park it for you."

He climbed in and started the motor, then eased the car forward, cut off the motor, and locked the car door after climbing out.

"You stand right here and don't move," he told her. "I'll park my car and we can have that drink."

Barbara stood next to her parked car, forbidden thoughts going through her head. He was good looking, tall, and muscular, with strong hands. She blushed, her cheeks burning. Her thoughts drifted to her husband, Carl, and she moaned to herself; he would have a fit when he found out. She shook her husband from her mind and decided to concentrate on the handsome stranger. There would be plenty of time for annoying thoughts later. Right now, that drink would be nice. Some attention would be nice, too.

"You ready?" he asked, his deep pleasant voice confident, sure. He took her arm. "There's a nice quiet little place in the mall. Most people don't even know about it." He escorted her through the parking lot, into the crowded mail, and into the lounge on the upper level.

Barbara settled into the leather, booth and accepted a martini. She felt exhilarated, almost like a kid. An eager light came into her emerald eyes as she gazed at the handsome stranger.

"I don't even know your name," she said as he eased in beside her.

"Jeff, Jeff Childs." He pressed his leg against hers, happy she didn't move away. Things were looking up. "What does your husband call you?" He touched the wedding ring on her slender finger.

"When he has the time, he calls me Babs," She looked uncomfortable at the mention of her husband.

"Busy man, I take it."

"Too busy." She drank her drink in silence, enjoying the pressure of his leg against her thigh. In a sudden rush of candor brought on by the tension of the accident and the settling effect of the quiet lounge and her martini, she turned to Jeff, her expression serious. "He thinks I'm getting too old."

"I find that hard to believe." His eyes followed the contour of her long graceful neck. "Christ, you can't be out of your twenties."

"I'm thirty-five and you're bull shitting me." She polished off her drink. "Can I have a refill?"

"You can have anything you want," Jeff said. He signaled the bartender. "But I'm not bull shitting."

With her next drink in her hand, she turned to Jeff. "I enjoyed your compliment," she purred. "I'm also enjoying the way your leg is touching mine." Her voice was provocative like her smile.

He gazed deeply into her sparkling eyes. His hand dropped below the table and gently squeezed her thigh.

"Ever since I saw you, I've been dying to feel your tits. They're driving me crazy." He held her gaze with his steady blue eyes, his hand slowly moving her skirt in the pretense of tickling her knee.

"Whewwww," she sighed, then took a gulp of her drink. "You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"Not when I meet someone as gorgeous and sexy as you." His hand slipped beneath her skirt and he began to feel the silky flesh of her thigh.

Barbara wavered; she was undecided. He was certainly handsome, confident in his manner, and made her feel wonderful and young.

Lately, all she thought about was growing older due to Carl's constant reminders.

"I… I can't," she finally said. "I'm married… I couldn't…" She swallowed forcibly. His hand on her thigh was turning her insides to mush.

"You want to," he said. "I can see it in your lovely green eyes." His hand moved farther up her thigh, his eyes burning into hers.

Barbara gasped and clamped her hand onto his, over her skirt. She felt his strong fingers underneath her skirt massaging her flesh.

"No higher," she gulped. "No more." She pushed his hand out from under her skirt and turned away from his intense stare. She took another sizable gulp of her drink, wanting, needing someone like Jeff now, when she felt old and used, with a husband who seemed not to care, who always seemed to be joking about her getting old.

"No," she said again, with an air of finality. Inwardly, she affirmed her decision.

"We could have a great time together," he said, his hand still on her knee. "A fantastic time."

She was about to say something to him, but the words were lodged in her throat as her mouth suddenly dropped in stunned surprise. Carl, her husband, was coming into the lounge with Dorrie, his young secretary.

Barbara began to shake. Jealous anger raged inside her. She quelled it. It could be as innocent as her being here with Jeff, though it did get out of hand for a brief moment. She waited, biding her time, watching Carl as he and Dorrie were led to a small intimate booth on the far side of the dimly lit lounge.

Barbara could see it was far from innocent from the way they talked to each other and the way he was holding her hands Barbara gasped when she saw her husband kiss Dorrie before ushering her into the booth.

Determined, she abruptly turned to Jeff. "I've changed my mind. Let's get out of here."

Jeff grinned, not knowing why she changed her mind, but glad that she had. He wasn't going to let her change her mind again. He slid out of the booth and took her hand.

"We'll use my car."

Barbara shivered nervously as Jeff led her into the motel room. She glanced around the room, feeling tawdry. An image of her husband with that little bitch kept her angry and vengeful. She turned, moving into Jeff's welcoming arms.

"I'm nervous," she sighed, pressing her body against him, the memory of his hand on her thigh still fresh in her mind. "I've never done this before."

"I can tell," Jeff said, holding her dynamite body.

He felt the pressure of her soft belly against his cock and the gentle crush of her tits against his chest. His mouth locked onto hers, his hands sliding down over her full hips to her rounded ass.