Dana Swanson - Blackmailed Into Swapping

She let her fingers graze the hard tips of her breasts. He hadn't even given her a little the night before he left. After three years of marriage, was his love and passion for her ebbing? The thought frightened her. She knew she was just as desirable as when he had married her. And her passion hadn't cooled, in fact, it seemed even snore volatile and explosive. As a matter of fact, her preoccupation with sex lately worried her. Was she-could she-turn into a nymph? She had read case histories about women who couldn't get enough intercourse. She often thought some of the symptoms paralleled her own feelings of lust.

Hadn't she seriously considered-if only briefly-an affair with Dell Emerson? Oh, she had found it not too difficult to resist making the initial overture toward the bedroom. But the cozy prospects of being fondled and laid had their stimulating allure. She had the physical evidence it was so…Her crotch was sticky-hot with passion and her vulva and vagina seemed on fire!

Clumsily, Mavis eased out of the breakfast nook. Her tapering thighs were like jelly and she was surprised her long legs supported her. With both hands on the tabletop, she steadied herself. Each movement seemed to agitate the sensuous torment in her loins. She shook her head and smiled faintly. It was a good thing Dell had gone before she finished the martinis! She needed it so bad right then she would have flopped for the Quentins' gardener-black as he was!

Suddenly, a vivid picture of one of her "clients" flashed through her mind. He always liked her down on all-fours, dog-fashion. The memory was so sharp and keen she could almost feel his penis gliding in and out of her vagina, his fingers gripping her flanks at the hip bones and hauling her body back, smooth cheeks of her ass pounding against his hairy belly as he speared his long, thick penis deep into her passionjuiced uterus.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. Was she sex crazy? Unsteadily, Mavis wandered into the huge living room and pulled the drapes. With her mind and body in turmoil, she flopped on the divan, breathing heavily. Phil wouldn't call; she just knew he wouldn't. And she would be alone another night. Sure, she knew several people, but they were Phil's friends. They had been his friends long before they were married.

Unhappily, she thought about them-positive they weren't interested in inviting her over alone without Phil. Connie and Willie Quentin knew she was by herself. So did Miriam and Henry Carr. But it might be more difficult for the Carrs to entertain her. He was a police lieutenant and his hours were as irregular as Phil's. And she hardly knew Terry and Mickey Lewis. They were fairly new to the neighborhood. Mickey had just taken the position as basketball coach at the local high school.

So, who else was there? You could bet that Dell and Becky wouldn't want to sit with a married woman they knew only slightly-not when they could be at a drive-in movie necking and petting. She had the intuitive feeling they weren't making out, that Becky was saving her cherry for her husband on their wedding night.

Mavis could barely keep her fanny from bouncing; nerves kept sparking deep in her innards. God! how she needed relief! Resolutely, she turned to her right slightly and skidded the zipper on the side of her shorts and freed the button. Well, she wouldn't go hunting for a stud to service her. She drew her feet up and worked her shorts and moist panties down past her knees. Delicately, she combed her fingers through the rich pubic growth that was long and thick over her mound and fanned nearly to her navel.

"Ooooooh, goooood!" she sighed. Without even feeling, she knew the pleasure thorn had poked out of its fleshy sheath, tingly and hot. She had never made a practice of playing with her monkey, but it sure needed petting now! Mavis had never felt any regrets after masturbating, but she did it on rare occasions. She drew her feet up until the heels were against her buttocks; she fanned her knees and tense thighs wide. She wanted to live a clean, straight life, loving her husband and caring for her home. So, a little playing with her pussy wouldn't hurt anything-not nearly as much as taking on some man while Phil was away. He probably would understand her masturbating, but would never forgive her for adultery.

Mavis knew that the seat of pleasure lay just inside the fatty folds of flesh just below the pulpy mound across her pelvis. But she would prolong the enjoyment, now that she had committed herself to sexing herself. Slowly, delicately, she stroked her fingers up and down the inner planes of her thighs. "Ooooooh," she moaned as muscles jerked and nerves sparked. She used her thumbs to press the thick lips together over the clitoris and the aching opening to the vagina. She was so drenched with passion, she knew stroking the firm flesh of her crotch could make her cum. But she fought off the building thunder in her loins. She wanted lightning to strike at the same time-and that would come only when she parted the full lips and stroked a hand in the wet groove and crammed two or three fingers of the other hand into her greedy hole. The seething and boiling in her channel was reaching a tempestuous pitch.

After a slow rake of sharp nails along her thighs, she used the fingers of both hands to spread the labia wide. Almost brutally, she worked her bunched fingers into her vagina. Then she attacked the clit and upper part of the furrow with her other hand. Furiously, stroking up and down, raking the thorny clit harshly.

There was a pounding of drums in her head, and thunder and lightning were cascading together in long rolls in her insides. She was cumming!

Faster and faster her hands flew-up and down in the vulva, in and out of her cunny. She was having it! She was cummmmmmmmmmmmmmmiiiiiiiinnnnng!

"Aaaaaaahhhhhh, God!" she whimpered as the waves of passionate splendor washed through her like high tide. She was buffeted and battered by tremendous shock waves of masturbatory satisfaction.

As her heartbeat started returning to normal, after the lightning retreated into her uterus and the thunder grew still, she slowly opened her eyes, still clutching her snatch with both hands.

And stared into the smug amused face of Miriam Carr. Shame flashed through her-but there was no sign of ridicule in Miriam's hazel eyes.

Just faint, lively amusement. Mavis was starkly aware of her obscene posture, knees scissored up, thighs spanned wide, hands dug into her pussy-and Miriam peering at her. Tears blurred Mavis' eyes-and still she lay perfectly still, as if paralyzed.

"You poor darling," Miriam murmured, kneeling beside Mavis and placing one cool hand between Mavis' heaving, jutting breasts and another on Mavis' feverish hands clutched in her sex saddle.

"What a delightful, exciting performance!" Miriam cooed, slowly pushing one of Mavis' hands aside and fingering her own into the upper expanse of vulva that was slicked with female sex honey. Mavis' tense ass bucked uncontrollably as Miriam teased the moist furrow and deftly pinched the fading clit back to full erection.

Mavis wanted to sob and writhe away, but Miriam was doing things to her, again arousing her to a feverish pitch. The muscles in her flat belly spasmed and tightened as Miriam continued to masturbate her slowly, then faster and faster.

Mavis was panting in short gasps of passion, her free hand sliding up under her skimpy halter to clutch a breast melon. "Oh, God!" she whined and moaned as Miriam brought her out. She felt she was being turned inside out down there where her own hand was diving deeper and deeper into her boiling, roiling cunt. Her torso was bucking and plunging, naked ass humping up for full pleasure from her own inserted hand and Miriam's agile fingers. "I'm cumming!" she yelled triumphantly, no thought of shame, as her innards exploded into a violent orgasm that nearly left her unconscious.