Don Scott - Easy wild wife

Also from her closet Barbara took out her most daring shoes. They were open-toed, with high stiletto heels. Although the shoes were a little uncomfortable to wear for extended periods of time, Barbara figured it wouldn't matter. She doubted she'd be spending much time on her feet that evening.

Dropping a tube of lipstick into the pocket of her coat, Barbara left the house after checking to see on her mother's progress.

"I'm hurrying! I'm hurrying!" Karen replied angrily, buttoning up the lacy white lacy blouse that Barbara had selected for her. "I'm just not used to going without a bra, that's all."

p(line).***

On her Honda 350cc motorcycle, Barbara felt daring and wild. The miniskirt was bunched around her hips, and the wind was blowing against her cunt, through her panties, as she rode through the suburban streets.

Unlike her beautiful mother, Barbara was fully aware of her own raging sexuality and of her bizarre fetishes. She wanted more than anything to be a rock 'n' roll queen, to stand on a stage and sing to huge crowds. This desire to be on stage manifested itself in a full-blown exhibitionistic streak. Barbara was a performer and as such she loved having an audience.

For the teenager, it almost seemed a waste of time to fuck someone unless she had someone else watching her. Despite her tender years, she'd already lost count of the times that she'd fucked some boy from school while all his buddies watched. She really enjoyed giving blow-jobs while having her pussy stuffed with a cock. Group sex was what triggered Barbara's most powerful orgasms.

Pulling her motorcycle over to the curb, Barbara turned the engine off and swung her leg over the seat, smiling to herself when two young boys got a quick glimpse of her bikini panties.

She walked up the narrow concrete path to the front door and pushed the doorbell. She heard a chime sound inside and then the shuffling of feet.

When the door opened, Mr. Jones' bespectacled face appeared in the opening.

"Yes?" he asked in his high-pitched voice.

Barbara's big tits were on display, the cleavage tight and milky. It took a moment for the old man to notice her tits, but when he did his eyes got big and round.

"Hello, Mr. Jones," Barbara said, confidence surging through her as he stared at her boobs. "I wonder if I might have a moment to talk to you in private. You see, you're the president of the bank that my parents have their money at and there's something very important I must talk to you about."

"Yes, well, I don't know," he said quietly, a tremulous quality in his tone. "This is most unusual. There are normal banking hours for this sort of thing."

"Yes, sir, I'm well aware of that. But an emergency has come up and it's very important that I see you, that I talk to you in private."

It took all of Barbara's will-power not to openly laugh when Mrs. Jones' jaw dropped open as she walked by. Barbara's legs scissored smoothly as she walked and old Mrs. Jones just about fainted as she sat on the couch knitting.

Barbara was escorted to Mr. Jones' small office in the back of the house. The place smelled musty and Barbara could tell that he was the kind of man ideally suited for banking. He probably didn't go to the bathroom until he wrote it down in the books – in triplicate – and then he asked for his wife's permission.

Barbara told her story without leaving any of the important details out. She told Mr. Jones everything, including the part about her father getting a blow-job when he was arrested. When she was finished there was a definite lump in the bank president's crotch.

"So you see, sir, if you could only write a cashier's check for the bail, I could get my father out of jail. I'll pay you back every red cent, and I'd be so grateful to you."

Barbara uncrossed her legs and spread them, hiking her miniskirt over the tops of her stockings.

"Wouldn't you want me grateful to you?" she asked sensually, allowing the tip of her tongue to play around her full, glistening red lips. "I think I could do you a world of good. You see, Mrs. Jones may enjoy spending her time knitting, but what I like to do is suck cock. Doesn't that sound interesting to you?"

Barbara once again had to keep from laughing. Behind those thick glasses was a pale face and wide eyes that simply couldn't comprehend what was happening.

She slipped off the chair, getting on her knees on the floor of the small, musty office. Within seconds Barbara had Mr. Jones' cock out of his pants. Though he hadn't said anything, Barbara knew that he'd do what she wanted him to.

It was mildly surprising to Barbara that Mr. Jones, who wasn't very tall and really didn't seem like the kind of guy who would have one, was quite well hung. His prick was a decent seven inches long and it was actually quite thick.

Without giving him a chance to stop her, Barbara put her face in his lap, pushing her red lips over his pricktip.

"Mmmmmmm!" she moaned, sucking the entire cockhead into her mouth, kneading the shaft with her lips while her tongue went to work on the lust-hardened cockmeat.

"Oh, my! Oh, my!" Mr. Jones moaned, looking down at the mass of wavy auburn hair that was swirling about at his waist.

Barbara guessed that Mrs. Jones wasn't one to give blow-jobs, so she wasn't going to hold anything back from Mr. Jones. She pushed her lips down the shaft of his cock until his pricktip was nudging the back of her mouth. Then, relaxing the muscles in her neck, she sucked the cock completely down her throat.

Mr. Jones' thighs quivered as he felt the entire length of his cock being enveloped in the teenager's warm, clutching throat.

Barbara pushed her face hard against his body, feeling the edge of the zipper against her nose. She rubbed her chin against his balls and tongued the shaft of his cock as best as she could with her throat crammed with his prick.

After a while Barbara pulled her lips up the throbbing shaft of his cock, holding just the pricktip in her mouth. She nodded her head, whipping her lips over the ridge of his cockhead while tonguing the underside of the big, meaty, delicious crown of his prick. As she sucked Barbara unfastened the two buttons that held her leather jacket together.

She purred lustily, bobbing on the prick, taking it down her throat several times. She loved deep-throating cocks and the only thing that could make it an ever better experience for Barbara would be if Mrs. Jones would walk in and watch her as she sucked her husband's bone-hard prick.

The teenager's 36C-cup tits jiggled from her chest, the nipples hard, the areolas pink and rosy with the excitement that she felt. Continuing to suck on the prick, massaging its entire length with her lips and tongue, Barbara opened Mr. Jones' pants and squirmed them down to his knees.

At last she took the cock out of her mouth. She looked up at his face, smiling lustfully.

"Do you want me to suck you off, or would you like to fuck me, sir?" she asked quietly, mischievously, her eyes shining with the glow of youthful lust.

"I… I guess I want to…"

Barbara grabbed Mr. Jones' cock and the words seemed to get choked off in his throat. His eyes were glued to her nipples.

"Why don't you fuck me?" Barbara stood up quickly, aware of how her tits were jiggling and the effect that had on the bank president. "I think that would make us both very happy."

She pushed the sleeves of her jacket over the elbows, then pulled her miniskirt up to reveal her bikini panties. Hooking her thumbs into the panties, Barbara pulled them slowly past her hips, down her legs over the mesh stockings.

She stepped out of her panties, tucking them into a pocket of her jacket. Standing up again, Barbara spread her legs wide, balancing on her five-inch spike heels, and started pushing the fingers of her right hand through her curly, dark bush of cunthair.