R Simpson - Massage parlor wife

"I'll wait," Wayne laughed. "Terry and I will be drinking booze, and maybe I can make a nosedive on her snatch while you're out of the room."

"Sounds like I should let Terry go get the dildos," Laura complained.

"No," he insisted, "You go get those fuckin' dildos, and let me and Terry have our fun!"

At that point, Laura left the bedroom, and went into the living room to slip into her clothes so she could return to the apartment and get the dildos, so the action can commence. At that point, Wayne was brushing his face across beautiful, Terry's bountiful breasts, and then he opened his mouth, letting one nipple slip in gently.

As the mouth opened, and he felt the nipple slipping into it, his tongue swept out, and he titillated the nipple-tip with the end of his tongue. This was producing hot sensations in Terry's body, and she was enjoying it to the utmost.

He moved down her body slowly, finally letting his tongue lick around her vagina. As the tongue swept the hairs of her moist mound, his body quivered, in anticipation of dipping inside her velvety vagina.

"Ohhhh, baby, eat me," she begged him, and then he let his tongue jab up her hot hole. As it lashed inside her juicy mound, he panted, and grunted excitedly.

"Suck me – suck me," she begged, "Ahhhhh – ohhhhhhhb, eat my pussy lover, eat my snatch!"

Terry's legs wrapped around his head as he went on eating down there. And he became lost in the pussy-action. Exploring the walls of her liquid, juicy vagina with his tongue, he made small darting movements, and then started lapping her up, licking her there.

"Ahhhh – ohhh, eat my pussy," she demanded, "That's it! Give me a tongue job. You're a real horny tongue man," she grunted.

At that very moment, her husband unbeknownst to her was landing at O'Hare Field. He'd been able to complete his Miami assignment in a couple of hours, and decided he might as well hop the next jet back to the windy city.

He hastily got in the plane and all the way home, Brad thought of Terry. He thought of her alone in bed, wishing he was there beside her.

The very last impression he had of her was when he saw her looking at him sadly, as he was boarding his plane. He felt almost guilty leaving her alone like that. She was a young, spirited woman, and he felt he was doing their marriage a grave injustice being on the road as much as he had to be. The skyways had been fun at first – Chicago, one day, Miami or Los Angeles, the next.

He had thought he'd have a ball screwing the stewardesses.

But, fucking the stewardesses had become boresome. They were damned good screws he had to admit, often picked for their cunt capabilities. Yet, they charged so much, dividing each act into categories, and not willing to give an ass-suck or cock-suck without an inflationary charge, that it sickened him. They could keep their hot little cunts to themselves, and their mouth and hand jobs with the inflated egos, and price-tags. He was heading home to his loyal wife – who loved only him – and would do it any way he told her to, at the drop of a request!

The lights over Miami were a glorious spectacle, as he saw the shimmering spectacle below of the small arm of Miami Beach, where the world's most dazzling array of splendorous hotels held forth.

He leaned back, and listened to the music coming from the stereo earphones, and enjoyed himself.

He fell asleep like this, and when the stewardess wanted to serve him food, she had to awaken him.

"Would you like the Paris steak or the Chicken Florencia?" she smiled sweetly at him, giving him an instant hard-on, and making him immediately forget all his prejudices about stewardess prices.

"Oh, thank you – the Paris Steak – that sounds good – I guess I fell asleep."

"That music will do it," the attractive stewardess smiled, "We'll serve you in just a moment!"

The cart which was a few feet down the aisle in the airplane, came closer moments later, and the meal was served. He enjoyed it, and decided he might as well make a pitch for the sweet, innocent-appearing stewardess.

"I'm Brad," he smiled, "and you're…"

"I'm Joyce," she grinned, "Fly me…"

"Fuck you," he chuckled.

"That wasn't funny," she snapped.

"Well, you said 'fly me!' – didn't you?"

The girl moved away, and Brad got bitter about the hypocrisy. Then, about two hours later, he saw Chicago spread out in all her bedazzling glory along the lakefront. He leaned forward to see the lights of the city, as the plane lowered. The Captain came on, "All passengers are asked to stop smoking until we land, kindly go back to your seats, and fasten your safety belts. We are arriving in Chicago, and eleven p.m., the visibility is clear, the temperature is sixty-four degrees. We will land at O'Hare Field in Chicago in ten minutes."

As the great plane hastened by the sprawling city of Chicago, Brad was more eager than ever to be with his wife. He could envision her in bed – alone, and waiting, just for him.

As soon as Brad got off the plane, he took a taxi to his Lakeshore Towers apartment. He thought it would be much more exciting for his wife, if he just walked in and surprised her. So, he hurried up the elevator, went down the ball to their apartment, and quietly opened the door. As he hurried through the living room, he didn't even notice some clothes on the floor. He was too intent to surprise Terry with his unannounced presence.

Walking into the room, he stood, there in shock. Big, athletic, Wayne was going down on Terry, as she had her legs wrapped around his neck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with my wife!" he bellowed furiously.

"Your wife?" Wayne gasped, lifting his mouth from Terry's poised vagina.

"Oh, honey, I wasn't expecting you," Terry stammered, unable to find words to fit the situation.

"Apparently not," he ranted, and just then Laura walked in carrying the two dildos, and stark naked, having left her clothes in the living room.

"What the hell are you doing here with that damned dildo strapped on your body?" he shrieked at Laura.

"Nothing," she giggled nervously.

"Get off my wife," Brad demanded, and then as he came closer to her, he became so infuriated, he yelled, "No, you stick your foul tongue in her rotten hole – I don't want her anymore!"

Wayne dropped his face back to her vagina, and went ahead licking it.

"Keep his tongue, honey – cause I'm going to make damned sure you never get mine," Brad snapped, and turned and walked boldly out of the bedroom.

"Get off me," Terry shrieked, realizing that her husband was going away forever. Wayne didn't know what to do. One minute somebody was telling him to go ahead, and the very next someone was shrieking savagely to stop.

She didn't take long to push Wayne off, and get off the bed, dash through the living room, and hurry to the hall, poking her head out the door.

As Brad looked back, and saw her, he warned, "Don't come out into the hall, honey – you're not decent!"

Tears moistened Terry's eyes, as the truth of what he'd said hit her with shocking impact.