Heather Brown - Wife turned on

Now he was plugging me in both of my tight holes – his cock to the hilt in my cunt, his fist to the wrist in my butt. I was having orgasms in both canals, not to mention the electric tingling from his gouging caress of my hanging tits.

When he came, it settled nothing. As his scalding spunk spewed to the center of my being, I immediately became interested in how I could take advantage of his youth to make him do it a third time.

I'd had his dick in my mouth. Then my cunt. Wasn't it time for some male juice in the tightest hole of all?

"Switch!" I cried as he squeezed off the last flood of jizz in my pussy. "Put your fist in my cunt and your prick in my ass."

Still as hard as a rock, his boner pulled from my twat and raised its throbbing sights a notch. Then his fist came ripping from my crap-chute with a deafening pop and the transference was taking place.

Steely cock-head crushed against the ridges of my anus, knuckles against my pussy lips. "Push, push!" I squealed.

He did. Penetration in both holes was instantaneous. It felt even better this way.

Even though my asshole had been thoroughly widened from the previous arrangement, the sailor's cock was still a tight fit. And his pumping fist in my cunt was brutally divine. It seemed incredible to me that I had had these two holes for so long and had never employed them to the maximum until now. Even my bye affair with Ann had not seen sex this raw.

Within me I could feel his knuckles moving upward in my cunt colliding with his prick moving downward in my ass. When they chafed together through meaningless tissue my climax accelerated to new heights. I felt like I was flying.

I waited until he was in both holes as far as he could go, then began undulating my hips and begging for a third ejaculation. "Come in my ass!" I screamed. "Make my ass as sticky and wet as you made my mouth and pussy!"

He grunted like an enraged bull making a deadly pass at a matador. Then he gored me with liquid – the liquid of his third eruption of cum. It was even hotter, thicker and grosser than either of his previous two eruptions.

Shit had been boiling in my colon all along. Now it seemed to catch on fire, ignited by the molten results of the sailor's spurting prick. There was just so Goddamn much male lava!

I was thrilled to know I'd be crapping male goo for days. When I put the toilet paper to my ass after my morning bowel movement, there'd be as much creamy white stuff as stinking brown stuff.

And what made it best of all was that the spermy condition of my rectum would be my secret. I'd say so long to this sailor and never see him again. After he was gone, out of my life forever, his cum would belong to me alone.

To hell with the rest of them, I thought, as one gloppy spurt after another filled my colon. I'd get this guy's juice, his money, then I'd walk out of the alley a free and independent woman.

Up until this affair in the alley, I'd always assumed that whores were fallen women. However, with a trick's jizz spurting up my anus, and the remains of two previous outpourings sticking in my craw and cunt, it seemed to me that the cheapest hustler had more say-so over her life than the most respectable wife and mother.

When the spurting in my ass had stopped and the sailor's prick had gone limp, the power of my body abruptly ceased. Getting to my feet to receive my money, I found myself facing an entirely different person than the eager teenager willing to give me anything I wanted.

The guy who had fucked me in three holes had suddenly become a man. A hard-bitten one more concerned with male dominance than in rewarding me for the pleasure my willing body had provided him.

"Where's my money?" I asked when I realized he wasn't coming across with it.

"I don't pay for it," he coldly said.

Suddenly I felt like a silly fool. There was no point in even protesting. How could I have been so dumb?

The fist that had so joyously reamed my butt and cunt became a weapon. Leaping from his side, it closed the gap between us in a blur and cracked against my jaw bone.

With my senses an instant jumble, I crashed to the ground. Then the bastard took ahold of his now wilted cock and pissed all over me.

I'll never forget the last words I heard from him before I mercifully passed out: "If I get the clap, I'm coming back to find you. You better hope you're clean because I'll beat the slit out of you, you filthy pig."

My experience with the sailor was an abrupt turning point for me. It damaged my confidence so severely that I decided to permanently swear off sex. Whore or wife, I was convinced that I couldn't handle it.

Making a hundred and eighty degree turn, I decided to turn all my attention toward my family.

Given my new state of mind, the fact that Don refused to enter the bedroom except to change clothes seemed like a blessing. Without the distraction of sex, I was convinced that I could concentrate on being a good mother.

After all, there was no doubt that I'd been neglecting the kids lately. So why not give them the attention they deserved, while at the same time getting away from the curse of the flesh that had been making my life miserable since I'd been raped. I could do worse with my life, I convinced myself, than being a full-time mother.

What they needed was someone giving them guidance not a mother that was interested in satisfying the neurotic yearning between her legs.

By coincidence, summer arrived at the time I made my decision, so the kids were home from school. This gave me the perfect opportunity to throw myself into being the kind of mother I knew I could be. It was time to forget about my own needs and concentrate on raising my children.

However, it was not as easy as I thought it would be. I quickly found out that kids are a lot more complicated nowadays than they'd been back when I was a girl. As a concerned mother, my work was more than cut out for me.

The first issue that presented itself was that Gwen, in her teenage years, was boy crazy. Here I was, wanting to pass along the traditional feminine skills of housekeeping, sewing and cooking, and all she seemed interested in was running after every pimply faced string bean in sight.

One day I told her that I would teach her how to prepare the family's favorite dish, tuna casserole. She, however, in a burst of rebellion, informed me that she couldn't be less interested.

I tried to soft-soap her, but our confrontation over the tuna casserole soon flared into a heated argument. Finally I was defeated and she stomped out of the house, saying she was going over to see Billy Preston, because at least he appreciated her for what she was, instead of what somebody wanted her to be.

"I want to do my own thing!" she yelled defiantly just before she slammed the door.

Things were not working out. In her bedroom at the time of her departure, I sat down on her bed and began to cry at my failure to communicate when I had wanted to so badly.

It was then that I discovered that Ted was still in the house and had overheard everything. He came into the room and watched me for several minutes before I noticed him.

When our eyes finally met he came over and sat down on the bed beside me. "Gee, Mom, I'm sorry," he said. It was the first kind thing anybody had said to me in along time.

"Don't worry," I responded, "it isn't as bad as it seems. Gwen and I will work it out. She's just growing up."

"But – what about you and Daddy?" he proved himself wiser than I'd thought. "You seem to have trouble getting along with everybody."

I was so upset that I admitted he was right. All of a sudden, in the face of his compassion, I felt like I was the child and he was the parent.

"What should I do?" I wailed.

"Don't cry, Mom," he tried to console me.