R Simpson - Massage parlor wife

"Let me screw you now," he begged his wife who'd turned-on with her tongue.

She released her hand grip, slipped her tongue out, as her husband quickly got in place atop her, letting his knees dig into the bed, as he guided his penis into her slot.

"Fuck!" he grunted, as his hard rod thrust inside her, driving in forceful, hard thrusts.

"That's it, baby – give!" She gave alright, her pelvis rising to meet his cock-thrusts.

"Grab it, baby," he smiled at her, as her cunt muscles clamped on his sliding tool. "Ohhh, ahhh – now, you're grooving! Fuck me!"

"I want it baby, all nine inches of it! Sock it to me!" She gripped his tool tightly in her vagina, alternately releasing, then grabbing with her muscles. Vigorously massaging his sliding male member, as she clawed at his back had him steaming.

"Fuck it! Now! Again!"

Terry flipped her pelvis upward to meet his spearing, forward thrust. The rock-hard cock exploded, and she came a second later. "Right on target," Terry panted, as she looked up at her satisfied husband, who was still thrusting.

"You're a good screw, Terry," he told her.

"Is that all?"

"Isn't that enough?" he chuckled. "A lot of women aren't!!"

"How did you find that out? Trying a lot of them?" she demanded, as he slid out of her, the sticky cum dropping on her body.

"That's not a fair question," he brushed it off, and got up, and went into the bathroom. When he returned, he tossed a wash cloth to Terry, who wiped the cum off her stomach and vagina.

"Thanks, honey – but I'm going into the bathroom now," she giggled as she left to douche.

"I'll only be a minute," she told him, closing the door.

"Take your time – keep it clean," he laughed. When Terry finally came out, he looked at her. "Gee, I hate to have to leave you, baby," he told her, "but the boss wants me to hop a plane and meet, him in Denver tonight. Trouble at one of the new restaurants in our chain."

"I'm so sick of trouble," Terry shrieked. "Ever since you went to work for that company – they've used you as the number one trouble-shooter – and where does that leave me?"

"Alone, dammit," Brad said. "Come here, baby – let Brad kiss the hurt away."

She went over to the bed, and Brad kissed her breasts. He always liked to suck on them, letting his mouth slip over each breast, creating a suction-cup effect, then let his tongue flick across the erect nipple. This tongue and mouth treatment always pleased Terry, but she didn't want to have more sex, and yet she knew if he continued that would be what would happen.

"Honey, stop sucking my titties," she complained.

"Why? Don't you think I'm doing a good job?"

"That's just it, baby," she smiled. "You're doing too good a job!"

She pushed him away, but he persisted.

"I'm an artist with my tongue," he chuckled. "I can do all kinds of things with it!"

"You've never licked my asshole," she reminded him playfully.

"That's because you ye never asked me," he said softly.

"Alright, I'm asking you now."

"Wrap your legs around my head, honey, and I'll suck your sweet ass out if you want me to."

It didn't take Terry long, to throw her legs out around Brad's head, and his arms reached around to part her trim butt, as his tongue jabbed out, licking along her anus. As it swept around her anus, Terry was treated, to some idea of what it was like. And she liked it.

"Suck my ass," he commanded her. "Suck it suck my ass out – go ahead – suck!"

It didn't take long for his tongue to stiffen and slide up her tight anus. And her body quivered, just as his had as she felt the sliding tongue.

His tongue drove steadily, as Terry felt the passion surge in her loins.

"Ahhh-ohhhh, baby, that's wild," she enthused, "come en, eat my pussy – eat it – eat me!"

This was the enthusiasm that Brad wanted to see her display. He continued eating her ass out until she was frantic for him to lick her vagina.

"Honey, I'm dripping," she urged him, and then Brad let his hot tongue lash out. "Suck it," she begged, as she watched his pink tongue lick, lash, and jab at her vagina. Then, Brad let his tongue stab her there, and he flicked it back and forth across the clitoris trying to give her a fast tongue-job, as he had so many things to do to get ready to go to Denver.

"Eat it – eat my cunt," she cried in her sexual ecstasy. "Ohhh, honey – eat my pussy!"

If there was one thing Brad had always prided himself on, it was his ability to eat pussy. He had always considered sex a celebration, and the tongue-vaginal connection, the most beautiful between any man and woman. That women had appreciated his dedication to their orgasmic ecstasy was evident from the way they always started climbing the walls, when he tongue-lashed them there.

"Do it – do it," she urged. "Ohhhhh – ahhhhh, yes – yes, baby, lick my cunt – clean it with your tongue, honey – lap my juices – lap them up, baby."

He didn't have long to wait to take her advice, for Terry suddenly gushed, thrusting her pelvis up to meet his tongue. His tongue swooped down, joyously licking her juices as he engaged in his oral celebration of her most intimate portion of her body.

Finally, when he was finished he pulled away from her, licking his lips appreciatively.

And then, she patted his head gently, running her fingers through his hair.

"I'm going to miss you," she smiled.

Glancing down at her vagina, he grinned. "And don't think I'm not going to miss you!"

Terry helped her husband pack. She hated to see him go, but when she started to complain about it, he said, "You just got back from a trip yourself – so you shouldn't complain about my little trip."

"That was different," she insisted, "I only went to see my mother and you didn't want to go along."

"Honey, traveling to trouble-points is my business – and I've done very well at it – so you'll just have to get used to it."

"I think I've done pretty well," Terry said, "I never cheat on you – and I'll bet that's more than you can say for yourself."

"I can say I never cheat," Brad smiled.

"And that's all you can do – say it, cause you could never prove it."

"You sound like you don't trust me…" he complained.

"Should I trust you?" she asked jokingly.

Her playboy husband admitted bluntly, "No – never trust a traveling husband!"

They went to an early dinner and then Terry saw him on board his flight. As he kissed her goodbye at the runway, he whispered, "I love you, baby – you know it too!"

"I love you," she assured him, and then she was gone. She always hated to see the plane's take off. She much preferred the pleasant memory of her husband kissing her, saying something nice in her ear, and then not watching him fly.

When she got back to her Lakeshore Drive apartment, it was late and in the fall the sun went down early, and now as she looked out over the lake it was almost black as the moon hid under clouds that portended rain.

She took her clothes off, and slipped into some comfortable pajamas, and sat down to watch her TV. She hadn't been seated fifteen minutes before she heard a knock on the door. Answering it, she saw her neighbor Laura. Laura was standing all alone in her blue robe, and she had a worried look on her face.

"Come in," she nodded to her. "What's up?"

"I've just got this awful creepy feeling," she said, "I don't know why, but I get it sometimes when it gets so dark on the lake, and I look out there and everything is black."

"Sit down," Terry motioned. "I was just watching TV."

"I hope I'm not bothering you," Laura said nervously, as she felt her arm.

"No," Terry smiled. "As a matter of fact I appreciate the company. My husband is gone so much of the time I get lonely."