Carole Wilson - Video Games

"Stephan, that's…that's almost obscene!"

"I've got another in mind. This time get down on the carpet."

"What?" she interrupted.

"Down on the carpet," Stephan commanded hoarsely. "This time lie down and lean forward." He made a quick trip to the bar to refill his glass, allowing Gillian time to get into position. "I want to see your big tan tits this time," he blurted in his excitement.

"Stephan! What would your mother say?" Yet, in spite of her initial resistance, she did as he bid. For some unexplainable reason she was caught up in a strangely mounting fever. A small, irrational tingling started growing in her loins and inner thighs, and she could tell her little cunt was beginning to respond to these lewd poses too. Already she could feel the excited hot wetness of her pussy juices.

No! she thought, this is a wrong thing to be doing! But when she looked up at the excited face of her husband, and then dropped her eyes to the huge bulge evident in his thin summer pants, her pussy grew hotter than before. He's enjoying this, she concluded. God, he's just like his brother, but if it's getting him excited I guess it's all right. Maybe that's what's making me feel all fluttery inside, too. I know it's not these obscene films that's making me feel so hot. But I'm happy that Stephan wants to fuck me so badly. Usually he just drinks his scotch and falls asleep watching television, but if this keeps him interested in me, then it's fine with me.

Moving so as not to muss her hair, Gillian lay down on the thick carpeting of the living room, leaning forward so that the full expanse of her hugely billowing tits was in full view. With the soft pile of the thick carpeting brushing her naked calves and thighs-she seldom wore stockings except on the most formal occasions-Gillian realized that she was becoming even more excited and that her nipples were rising into tantalizing hardness, pressing against the very edge of her dress. Stop! her mind raged. This just isn't right! she moaned to herself. Hurry, Stephan, hurry up and get this over with!

Stephan was on his knees, focusing the movie camera on the prostrate figure of his wife. "Wait a minute!" the aroused husband said. "Let's make it a little more interesting." He put down the camera on the end table and bent over his hotly trembling wife. He fingered the straps of her sundress, the electric contact as he brushed against her skin making her gasp. "Let's see more of those beautiful titties!"

This was it! Gillian's eyes clearly showed her anger. But she had to make a choice: either go along with Stephan's stupid obscene little games or say "no" as her sense of decency was crying at her. It was so rare that Stephan showed such intense interest in her body, that she didn't want to lose that moment. Who could predict when it would hit again?

Bending over her, he couldn't help but run his tongue over the length of her nakedly exposed neck to the tanned cleavage of her tits. Gillian jumped with alarm.

"What's the matter with you?" he charged. "You get angry when I don't pay any attention to you and when I do you get pissed!" The alcohol and the cock-bursting fever of seeing the films all had now combined to make him lose control in bitter, unweighed words.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a pout of her sultry red mouth. "I'm not some cunt you can fuck around with when you feel like it."

"Well it's a damn good thing you're not an actress because Frank would never put up with this shit!"

That did it! Frank's name was the magic word! "Okay, Stephan, I'll show you what kind of action I can do." And to prove her point, she unbuttoned the top buttons of her low-cut sundress, allowing her hugely billowing tits to spill out, her already hardened nipples grazing the soft pile of the carpet and adding to heated lust. She could hear Stephan's deep breathing as he gazed down with feasting eyes on the tender, uncovered nipples of her tanned tits. He gulped hard and then picked up the movie camera and began filming.

"That's it," she sighed, bracing her arms on the floor and rising to her knees. She stuffed her hugely swaying tits back into the modest confines of her sundress, and giving her hair one final primp of the hand, rose to her feet, and smoothed out her dress.

"Just a little more, please? There's only a few feet of film left." His deep blue eyes begging for her, how could she refuse?

"What do you want me to do this time? Stand on my head?" she laughed, teasing.

"Back on the sofa," he said as he took a movie of her getting onto the couch and spreading her legs lewdly. He angled the movie camera so that most of the movie would be of her delicious tits and panties, making sure that the soft curls of pussy hairs which managed to peek out from under the legbands of her bikini panties were in focus.

"A drink for my lady," he smiled, offering her another scotch and water, then bending down to kiss her lovingly on the forehead. Sixty seconds later, he was staring at the image of his wife, the flimsy white bikini panties she wore a teasing cover to the sweet, tempting cunthole, and the huge sensuous tits all but fully exposed, as if ready to break loose from the sundress. "My God!" he whistled, and his mouth watered.

Thank God this is over with, Gillian sighed to herself, taking a greatly needed sip of her pungent scotch. Now he's had his fun. He'll probably put those stupid films under his pillow to sleep on. She glared up at him shuffling through his private collection of lewd movies and watched as his bulge gave a final jerk of prurient appreciation. Silently sipping her drink, the recognition of her own lustful behavior flooded in on her and suddenly she felt cheap and whorish, as cheap and whorish as Frank's actresses who posed naked and fucked for him for no price other than their own obscene pleasure. She had let her husband do his will with her, and worse, she had become as excited as he had. True, it wasn't because of the pictures-that she adamantly refused to admit-but only because seeing her husband wanting to fuck her so much made her pussy hot.

"Stephan!" she called. Only the sound of the dripping kitchen faucet answered her. Where had he gone?

She called again and this time the handsome figure of her dark-haired husband dressed in the long bathrobe she'd given him for his birthday, emerged from the hallway. Gillian could tell he'd combed his hair, and he had shaved too; she could smell the sweet scent of the aftershave lotion that he predictably wore when feeling particularly amorous.

"You're going to miss your favorite television show," she chided as he sat cross-legged down on the sofa beside her. One look in his glazed eyes and the young woman knew what was about to happen. She glanced down to notice his bare, hairy legs. Secretly, she smiled to herself.

It was flattering having a husband who was still excited by his wife.

"Stephan, I love you," she mewled, kissing him on the cheek flirtatiously. "Even if you do like taking dirty movies of me."

"Mmmmmmmm!" he answered as he unbuttoned the sundress, letting it fall away from her chest. He roamed his hands over her, playing with her tits, tweaking her nipples into vibrating firmness. He had never stopped marveling at her beauty, the wide-eyed, almost shy way she came to him, as though she was a virgin every time her screwed her, as though he was the only man who could arouse her to where her passion overcame her "first time" reluctance. And he was the only man!

She looked over to the viewer on the table. One of the filthy movies they had taken was on the screen. She gasped, cringing down on the sofa cushions as she watched it. "Put those movies away. I'm tired of looking at myself."

Stephan only grinned lewdly at her, his face a mask of desire. "Why?

They're only of you, my sweet. Here, see this one?" He took the cartridge out and put another one in the viewer. "This is my favorite."