Heather Brown - Wayward wife

So turned on that my mouth was literally watering, my thoughts turned automatically to getting it on. Images of a long, slim teenager's cock squishing in and out of a succulent, mature pussy filled my mind. My brain was an erogenous zone and, suddenly, being fucked was all I could think of.

And sucking, too.

The images transformed into a big sweet cock filling a mouth, lipstick smearing a crimson track along the shaft of a prick.

I ran my tongue hungrily over my lips at the mere thought of a cock in my mouth.

My pussy spasmed as I tickled my clit and realized that I wouldn't be satisfied until I wound up with a prick inside it.

I promised myself that first I would taste it, and then I would fuck it.

Yes, this was the big change in my life over the summer. Where before I had repressed my horniness, now I sought to fulfill my wildest desires. Before we had had the cleanest house in the suburb, I was so busy washing and cleaning to keep from admitting all I wanted to do was suck and fuck. And I was miserable. A doormat. A dustmop.

Now the place looked like a dump, because I'd started doing what my body told me to do instead of being controlled by my hang-ups.

The change in my life was accountable to one thing only: I'd started to fuck because I wanted to fuck.

And I sucked and fucked a teenager because I wanted to suck and fuck him. No wonder I was deliriously happy for the first time.

I wanted to wrap my lips around his long smooth cock, tasting it sweetly in my mouth when I licked the dew off the tip. Then I wanted him to go down on me. I wanted his mouth at my cunt while I spread my long legs to the fullest. And, finally, with my legs still spread to the ultimate, I wanted his cock-head surging between my pussy lips. His prick filling my cunt. Further. And further inside me. Until he came!

Oh, God, I couldn't stand it. I looked down to my sopping crotch and saw that I was on the verge of making a spectacle of myself to the neighbors, half my hand clearly up my obviously wet pussy.

There was no doubt about it. I had to get Ron to mow the lawn today.

I ran to the phone and dialed his number. A voice I recognized as his mother's answered the phone.

"Is Ron there?" I said urgently. "I need to talk to him."

"Well, he's busy now," she said.

"It's important."

"Say, who is this, anyway?" his mother said suspiciously. "You high-school girls are getting bolder everyday, calling up like this. For your information my son is on a date today with Ginny Mims. They're going to play tennis."

"No, no," I said. "I'm not a high-school girl. I'm… I'm the lady that… Ron does my yard." As I finished my sentence, the impact of what I'd just heard abruptly hit me.

A date. With a girl his own age. That meant Ron saw other women besides me… except they were girls.

Or were they all young girls? Maybe he was "mowing lawns" at other houses. I'd have to drive around and see whose yard looked crummy.

"Oh, I see," his mother was saying as I drifted off into left field someplace. "I'll go get him. Ron's lawn-mowing business has grown by leaps and bounds this summer, and I know it's important to him. He'll be here in a second."

"Thank you," I said, trying to interpret the growth of my teenage lover's business.

"Say," his mother abruptly blurted into the phone, "you wouldn't happen to be Mrs. Fredericks, would you?"

"Yes… yes… I would," I said meekly, cringing at what might be coming next.

"Well, then, I just want to thank you," she said cheerily. "You know Ron told me that you were his first customer, and that he owes you a lot because working for you gave him a lot of ideas he used to get more yards. He's a regular businessman."

Ugh, all of a sudden I was sick of her. She sounded like George's mother describing him ten years ago when we were both just out of high school. It made me want to puke.

But not to fuck any less.

"Ron, Ron," I implored when he came to the phone. "I've just got to see you today." Panic was starting to set in, and as I spoke, I reached into my cut-offs again, seizing my sopping cunt like it was a security blanket.

"But I was just there a couple of days ago," he said calmly. "That should be enough."

"Ron," I humbled myself, trying to ignore his indifference, "my pussy is foaming. It wants you. It needs your cock."

"Yeah, sure, sure," he said coolly, trying to hide the nature of my end of the conversation from the others at his end of the line. "But didn't my mother tell you that I'm busy today, that I've got a date?"

"Then it's true," I blurted furiously, astonished at my jealousy. "You are with a girl. And what about those other lawns you mow? Your mother also told me that your business is growing by leaps and bounds."

"Hey, shhhhh," he whispered. "They can almost hear you."

"They'll hear a lot more than that," I seethed angrily, desperate at the prospect of losing my teenage fucking machine, "unless you come over right away."

"But I can't break my date," he whined.

"Tell her it's an emergency. Leave her with your mom," I suggested, my gushing words revealing my desperation. "It won't take long. Just a quickie."

"Yes?"

"I've got to feel your cock in my cunt right away or I won't make it through the day. Please come over and fuck me," I caved in and begged, cramming my stiff fingers up the crack of my pussy in secret emphasis.

"Oh, all right, all right," he said. "I'll see what I can do and be over as fast as I can. Just so long as it won't take too long."

"Don't worry, Ronnie," I said, my voice reeking of humiliation, "my cunt is so sloppy it'll go off in seconds. Just as soon as I feel your hot, throbbing cock inside it."

"You sure?"

"I've got three fingers up it right now," I confessed. "I'm warming it up for you. Please come over and stick your cock in it. Please fuck me."

After he hung up I threw off my clothes and ran, stark naked, for the bedroom. I threw myself on the bed and spread my legs in the classic fucking position, gazing in wonder at my open cunt reflecting redly in the vanity-table mirror and getting hornier and juicier by the second.

All the begging, all the pleading I had done, all the humiliation I had suffered over the phone meant nothing to me if I could get Ron's hot cock inside my pussy. Where previously I had been a slave to housework and boredom, now I was a slave to fucking, willing to go to any humbling extreme to get it. I realized that I was willing to degrade myself in front of a teenage boy if I could get his cock inside me.

I don't know how long I lay there naked before the mirror. My legs were spread so that my pussy seemed like an oozing target in the mirror, the bubbling line of my crack the bullseye which the teen's cock would soon pierce.

How could I keep track of time? Time, space, existence… everything was irrelevant in the face of my oozingly ready cunt, waiting wetly for a cock. Everything was incinerated in my blazing desire to fuck.

My mind was engorged as though it were a cunt by the image of Ron's pumping cock, and I lost track of everything and just waited. My legs spread. My pussy open. The pink lips parted just enough to reveal my red fucking canal. Drooling. Glistening. Screaming silently for a big, hard cock.

The rapping on the screen door in the kitchen brought me out of it. Not because it was particularly loud, but because it was so unanticipated. Ron never knocked. He just walked right in.

But it was definitely him. I knew that when I heard him call, "Mrs. Fredericks, are you home?"

Why was he calling? Did he have someone with him? The date? Ginny?

No, it couldn't be. He wouldn't do that to me.

I refused to consider the possibility of a betrayal and heedlessly called, "Come on in." I spread my thighs even farther so the first thing he'd notice when he walked into the bedroom were the twin images of my open, drooling fuck-hungry cunt, one glistening in the mirror, and the other sopping hairily between my quivering thighs.