Ron Taylor: Teacher_s naughty wife

She grabbed one of her tits – Ronnie was hanging onto the other one – and between them they managed to squeeze the hell out of her nipples. Her tits ached from the heavy sucking Alice had given them, and they felt so fantastic when they were tweaked now, a mixture of pain and delight that she found absolutely intoxicating.

Her other hand she dropped into her lap. She touched his cock, ringing it with her thumb and finger as it stroked relentlessly in and out of her twat, and sometimes she let her knuckles brush the nubby tip of her clitoris, making series of throbs and quivers shoot through her entire body.

"Yes," she told him, "this is what it's all about – what everything's all about – give it to me, do it to me, fuck me fuck me fuckkkkkkk!"

And like magic the quivering began inside her belly, no more than an inch or two front the depth his prick was reaching with its speeding plunges, and she knew that she had only to let go of her emotions, that she was almost there. Do it, she thought, do it! Come for him, Joanne!

And she came. In sobs and moans and gushes of hot juice around the barrel of his cock. She twisted and arched her back and writhed all over the flat top of the dishwasher, and he kept pounding his cock into her cunt, driving it deeper and deeper and faster and faster, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of his face, saw the agonized intensity written all over his countenance. She thought, Yes, he's almost there too, and he's going to spill his fuck juice up me, right where I want it, where I need it, to drown the blazing fires in my belly.

But it won't drawn them, she reminded herself. It will only intensify the things I already feel, and that's best of all, really.

"Do it!" she told him. "Come with me, oh, please come with me!" His face was twitching into the grimace men always got just before they blow their nuts. She'd seen it so often on Tom. His monster mask, she used to call it, and they'd laughed about that, back in the days when they still laughed, when he had time to be with her, to love her, to fuck her. Was all that finished? She wasn't sure.

And then she couldn't think about it at all because Ronnie was moaning and his lips were drawn back to show his clenched teeth and he was going "Uhhhhhhh…" and his cock lunged up her pussy tube and it began to shake inside her, and she could feel each blast of his ejaculation as it poured out of her belly. The cum, the sweet cum, the nectar of life, blasting into her womb, her pussy clenched tight around his cock as he fired and fired and fired, and she lost count of how many separate jolts he hammered into her, but there were a lot of them, and she felt his cum all thick and cloggy in her tube long before he went soft and slipped out of her. The jism, too, began to leak from her snatch, thick, white as milk where the big drops of semen clung to her dark-colored pussy hairs.

Ronnie slouched, stepped back, panting like a runner, and his cock hung limp and sticky, smeared in white, and she was limp and sticky and her pussy smeared with white, too, the white that ran from her slice in a little stream of cream. She looked down at his dick, at her hole, and she saw the fluids running out of her, wasting. She couldn't stand that. Impulsively, Joanne reached into her crotch, used a finger to scoop up the leaking semen. She brought her white finger to her mouth, licked it pink, stabbed it downward again and brought more of the sweet cum to her hungry lips. Ronnie watched, his eyes big, his face flushed with pride and masculinity.

It was an occasion for champagne, but the closest Joanne could come to it was a bottle of Rhineskeller Moselle that was cooling in the refrigerator. She poured big glasses for herself and Ronnie, and they went naked and satiated, for the moment, into the living room, sprawling on the couch. It was a little after three o'clock.

"It was good," Ronnie said. "I don't think it's ever been that good for me. I really didn't think I was much of a fuck, but now it seems to me that maybe I just hadn't met the right woman, you know?"

"Sssshhh," Joanne teased, rubbing her finger across his lips. "Don't get in too deep. Remember, I'm a married woman."

He frowned. "It's not fair," he said. "I mean, your husband doesn't want you. He's found another woman, and you know what they say, in the dark they're all alike? He doesn't want you and I do. If he's happy in the dark, I'd like to be with you. In the light. Do you know what I mean? I'm not even sure if I do."

"I think I do," Joanne said, and her eyes were sparkling. Wheels were turning behind those eyes, and she shivered.

"Wait a fucking minute!" she said, putting down her wineglass and turning to the telephone. "I think I have it! I really think I know how to straighten everything out! And preserve some of my own dignity in the bargain." She began to dial the phone. Ronnie was stroking her ass, and she turned to him. "Please," she said, "I'm liable to forget this brainstorm if you distract me. And if things work the way I'm sure they will, you'll have plenty more chances to touch my ass. Or anything else of mine you feel like touching. Know what I mean, hmmmm?" She smiled, and he had a lost, forlorn look about him, as if she'd just told him to put on his pants and get his feet moving down the street. Oh, if she got bleeding-hearted now, she'd miss her chance, and she couldn't afford to do that.

"Hello, Alice?" she said. "Its me, Joanne. Listen close. He isn't there yet, is he? Don't expect him till a little after four? Okay. One of your classmates just gave me an inspiration. Not to mention one hell of a fucking. But right now the inspiration is what matters. Tell me if this sounds ridiculous, but do you think that maybe you and I could arrange to [missing text]."

It was about half past four when Tom Hickman knocked on Alice Custer's door. She went to let him in, slipping her glasses up onto her forehead as he came through the door and swept her up into his arms for a lingering kiss. She was wearing a t-shirt and clean blue panties and, as he held her, he let one hand slide down to her ass. He started pinching and caressing the smooth firmness of her buttocks and, in a moment, his hand was inside her panties, stroking her crack. "Nice," Alice giggled, biting his neck. She was on tiptoes, her ripe ass wiggling from side to side, and her tits, braless under the thin t-shirt, were making nipple pecks onto his chest. "I take ft you're glad to see me," she added, stepping down.

"When am I not?" Tom wanted to know. She walked past him and he patted her fanny. His finger worked into her crack, giving Alice a friendly welcoming goose, and she squealed in delight. Goddamn, she thought, maybe I shouldn't be doing this after all.

"Let's go to bed right now," she said. "I can call out for food later. Mmmm, I don't want to eat food, I want to eat your dick!"

And as she spoke, she hooked a thumb in her panties and jerked down, suddenly baring part of her golden beaver. It was only a moment's exposure, but Tom began to grin and his eyes sparkled with anticipation. He made for Alice, his hands spread, ready to grasp her. "Let's not even bother with bed," he suggested.

"No!" Alice giggled, skipping out of his reach into her bedroom. "You wait outside a minute. I want to put on something cute and just a little kinky. This time, I'm going to be your sweet obedient slave."

"Okay, but hurry," he said, and he fondled his crotch meaningfully. It was already starting to bulge with excitement.

Alice closed the door, hurried to her, bed. The outfit was already laid out, and she stripped quickly, got into the costume. Black lace bra and panties, with the crotch of the panties cut out so that her pubic hair protruded. Black garter belt, black-tinted stockings. I feel like the Dragon Lady or something, she thought. Last of all, a little choker went around her neck and looked very much like a dog's collar. She found that really kinky, but it was kind of fun to have it on, since it was just for pretend. Into the bathroom, where she sprayed herself with Midnight in Paris.