Heather Brown: Wayward wife

I threw my hands to my face. My fingers pressed to my mouth, trying to hold in the streaming come that was already oozing out. My cheeks were taut with the excess of semen inside. My throat gagged. I couldn't swallow fast enough because of his constant spurting refills.

Finally the pressure was too great for me to endure. My mouth erupted as though I were vomiting. Dr. Bruce's cock came out first in the rush, followed by a mouthful and throatful of steaming sperm. It splattered all over both of us, bathing my neck and tits, and splattering all over the doctor's crotch.

My hands pounced on my tits, slurping up the come with my fingers and ferrying it to my mouth. I raised a breast and licked it, craning my head so I could swirl my tongue around the turgid nipple and lick the sperm off. Then I did the same with the other tit, glowing in the combined taste of my doctor's love juice and my own sweet breast.

I went for his groin now, licking off the come that matted his pubic bush. His balls were even sweeter than before. My tongue snaked all the way under to his ass. It was drooling with deliciousness.

I stuck my fingers in his ass again, lingering just long enough to capture a load of his anal drool. Then I eagerly brought it from between his thighs to my mouth, tasting his sweetness by greedily cramming my fingers in my mouth like a child snatching maple syrup on the sly.

His dick was finally wilting. Even growing limp it was still formidable though, greater when softening than most men's cocks when hard. Even limp it would beat one of George's so-called hard-ons by at least two inches on the coldest day of the year.

He was collapsed from exhaustion, comatose, with his eyes closed. Obviously the doctor was through for the afternoon. I couldn't help but wonder what he'd do about his next appointment.

I got up and gathered my clothes, putting them on as best I could, and stuffing my sopping panties in my purse. Over at the doctor's desk I found a prescription pad and wrote him a note.

"Dear Dr. Bruce: See you same time next week. I think you really can help me with my problems."

As I signed my name a sudden inspiration hit me. After placing the note right in the middle of his blotter, I reached inside my purse. Extracting my sodden panties, I balled them up and plopped them on top of the note. They were so wet with pussy juice they'd be sure and hold the note down until the doctor finally discovered it.

My weekly appointments with Dr. Bruce helped immeasurably. Not because of the usual psychiatric reasons, but because seeing him guaranteed a cock up my pussy at least once a week, and right now I needed that certainty.

Summer was over. Just like that the kids were back in school, gone all day. Ron was back in school too, of course, I'd been having such a ball that I'd never stopped to consider that some day it would be over. But it was.

And then, just when our "coffee breaks" were getting to be a regular thing, Miranda Fossgraves' husband made a new killing in the plastic business by exporting some life-like vinyl pussies from Hong Kong, and he used the profits to move them to a bigger house in a classier suburb.

Except for the hope of an occasional salesman, Dr. Bruce was all I had. And while his foot-long cock was overly generous, it wasn't enough. Not for me. My sessions with the shrink had guaranteed me a weekly fuck with the biggest prick I'd ever seen, but they had done nothing to curb my appetite for more and more sex. It seemed like the harder and longer the doctor and I fucked every Tuesday, the more I wanted when I left the office. Once or twice I might have pounced on his receptionist, except that she was about sixty years old and had warts.

Meanwhile, on Tuesdays I was still seeing the psychiatrist. It was expensive for George – but he went along with it because I seemed so happy.

I looked forward to seeing Dr. Bruce on Tuesday for the next long, hot summer.