Heather Brown - Door to door wife

Fred was begging me to stop. But, at the same time, his prick was getting ready to gush like a newly drilled oil well. Within seconds, the scalding bounty of his depths would be spurting up the derrick of my cunt.

I was so sure of my sperm-producing ability, that I began a countdown. I felt like a wildcat driller on the verge of my first million.

"Ten… nine… eight… seven."

"Please, Debbie, please!" Fred pleaded. "Don't do this to me!"

"Six… five… four… three… two…"

"Oh, no, I can't stand it!"

"One!"

It felt like an atomic blast within my loins. His cock sent a mushroom cloud of jism billowing into my pussy…

My orgasm was like nuclear fission. In expanding waves, it spread throughout my fuck-racked body, taking me to extremes I'd never thought possible with my husband.

After the jizz had splashed all the way to my ovaries, it backed up in my fuck-hole and started pouring out from between my legs. With satisfaction I watched the excess pour its scalding slime all over Fred's thighs, crotch and belly.

But even though he had stopped coming, I wasn't through fucking. No, I still had a lot of points to prove.

I kept right on screwing him.

Oh, hell, why be delicate about it? I kept right on raping him.

His hard-on didn't escape an inch from my snatch. The suction I produced wouldn't allow it to lose an iota of rigidity despite the desire of its owner to run someplace and hide and whimper.

Pistoning my crotch to produce incredible friction, I kept right on fucking as though Fred hadn't produced a drop of cum. I was as determined to draw a second load from his phallic spigot as I'd been to produce the first.

It only took a couple of minutes.

Suddenly Fred's joint was spitting again. His cock and balls would be black and blue by tomorrow morning.

The excess this time spilled off his trembling body and drenched the bedding. There was so much spunk it was soaking all the way into the mattress.

I had a load of fresh cum spewing from my gash that made it seem as though a bucket of gruel had been poured between my legs. However, it still wasn't enough to satisfy me. Revenge was turning out to be the biggest turn-on I'd ever experienced when it came to sex between me and my husband.

Gritting my teeth, I started humping for a third explosion. And, as I expended the effort, I knew I probably wouldn't even be satisfied with that.

I made the bastard come five times that night within the space of an hour. By the time I pulled his prick from my cunt, the damn thing looked like it had been put through a meat grinder instead of a cunt.

When I was finally finished, I went into the bathroom and took a long, hot soak in the tub. As I immersed myself in the dual warmths of the soapy water and the after-glow of fucking, I could hear Fred piteously moaning from the other room.

Jesus, what a satisfying feeling. It made me proud I was a woman.

"God bless my cunt," I said aloud more than once.

Fred was gone the next morning when I woke up. Then, when he didn't come home that night at six, I started to get worried. For the first lime I wondered if I'd gone too far.

Anticipating a dreadful scene if he ever showed, I packed the twins off to the grandmother's and waited. Finally, about ten, he showed, drunk as a skunk. Apparently he'd stopped off at a bar to hype up his courage with more than a little alcohol.

Of course I'd expected some reaction to my brutal aggression of the night before, but I hadn't specified it in my mind. When it actually took form, I was more dismayed than I'd ever thought I could be.

Fred's eyes were bleary, his face was slack, and his clothes were so dismayed he looked like a man who'd just checked in to the first stop on skid row. However, his words were as clear and cutting as the blade of a knife.

"I want a divorce," he said. "I won't be treated this way."

I suppose I should have stood up for my rights and reminded him of the crappy way he'd been treating me for years.

But I didn't.

I may have been a tiger twenty-fours hours before, but now I found myself a wife once again. A wife about to be abandoned by her husband.

"Please, Fred, I can explain everything," I tried to reason with him, but I might as well have been talking to the wall. He'd made up his mind, and then cemented his decision with alcohol.

Within a few minutes he'd snapped up his toothbrush, razor, a few clothes, and some other bare necessities.

I was on my own.

And, in spite of my boldness of the night before, when the chips were down I didn't like the way it felt.

"So that's the story," I told Jason in one of S.E.X.'s new offices.

"You mean you're telling me you want to quit your job because your husband left you?" he said incredulously. "For one thing, you need it more than ever for the money. And for another, what about your self-respect, Debbie?"

"I don't know," I grimly replied, "Lately I'd been thinking I really was somebody on my own. You know, ever since I started working for S.E.X… But now that this thing with my husband has happened, I'm scared. Maybe I was just fooling myself, and I just wasn't meant to be anything more than a simple wife and mother."

"Debbie, don't sell yourself short," Jason said sternly. "I don't want to see you throw a budding career down the drain… and, frankly, you are too valuable to our research for The Exchange to lose. You must stay on."

From there he went on to give me all sorts of supportive reasons why I had to continue my work, regardless of my situation at home. I was somewhat dubious; but, on the other hand, my self-confidence was so low that I couldn't resist all the compliments and encouragement he was giving me. They were like nourishment to a struggling plant.

"Okay," I finally agreed, "I'll stay on temporarily."

"Good," Jason smiled with relief. "Now for your next assignment, I want you to check out some alternative life-styles existing in this community. We need the information for The Report, and seeing how other families cope will be very therapeutic for you."

I was frightened at first because it would be my first assignment alone since I'd started working with Gloria, but Jason had me convinced that it was for my own good. Shoving my doubts into the background, I called the family S.E.X. had selected for the interview and set up an appointment.

As I drove into the Fishers' driveway later in the week, I could detect nothing unusual about the outer appearances of the way they lived. Theirs was a typical suburban house that wouldn't have given even the most curious passer-by the slightest cause for reflection.

Of course I was informed enough by now to know that the superficial appearances of suburban normality could be very misleading. After all, nobody would have guessed what had been going on behind closed doors with Fred and me, and we were as respectable on the surface as any family could be.

Mrs. Fisher greeted me at the door, and her presence just reiterated the facade of normality. She was an attractive, well-scrubbed matron in her middle thirties, giving the immediate impression of devoting her whole existence to the care and feeding of her husband and children.

Her husband, Art, was waiting for us in the den with their two teenage children, Teddy and Sheila. They'd stayed home from work and school so they could participate in the interview. It was clear they were all extremely close.

Mrs. Fisher, whose first name was Ruth, served us all milk and cookies as we sat in the den and got acquainted. As we started talking I began to wonder if perhaps S.E.X. had made a mistake in sending me here because they all seemed so wholesome mid normal.

Art was an insurance salesman, who'd started his own agency a few years ago and made a real success of it. Both of the kids were honor students, and the girl was a cheerleader. Her brother planned to go out for basketball next year.