Ron Taylor: Back Door Wives

"Y'all come back real soon, y'hear?" the bartender called as the two women went bowlegged out the front door. "We'll be looking for you."

In the car, Kate breathed heavily. "God, you look like shit!" she said, touching the blue wig that had fallen askew long ago, letting Tricia's semi-natural blonde hair show beneath. "But well-fucked shit," she added.

"So, Trish," she went on, turning the key in the ignition, "what do you feel like doing tomorrow night?"

Ken Miller took a taxi home from the airport. He was a day or two earlier than he'd expected, getting home, and he was a little sheepish about facing Trish. In the back of the cab he rehearsed scenario after scenario, drumming fingers on his attach‚ case until the driver asked him to knock it off for Chrissake, buddy!

He couldn't believe the scene he'd made with Tricia the morning of his departure. But the evening before, he'd just had this tremendous yen to stick his cock up her gorgeous tight little asshole. He definitely had to quit listening to Roger Parker's stories at the gym.

Anyway, no one in his right mind would believe a third of the stuff that Rog said Kate went crazy over. The guy was some kind of salesman, though. He made assfucking sound like a Mercedes. Once you knew it was there, you wanted it for yourself. Yeah, he thought, that sounds pretty good. Maybe it would save 'his' ass with Trish.

She'd been sooo ticked off when he brought up that stuff. And then he'd threatened her with an assfuck as soon as he got back from LA.

He knew that he should've been more easygoing, more persuasive, a little less physical. She'd almost warmed up to it in bed that morning, when he started on her while she was asleep. He'd come within a cunthair of getting his cock up her shitter.

Until she woke up. Fuck, he thought, I should've licked her a bit longer! Rog always said that if you fucked it right with your tongue, to get things started, women would beg you to fuck it with your big hard cock.

Ken leaned back in the seat, sighing deeply, wondering if it felt as good to stick your prick into a hot tight wiggly asshole as Roger Parker claimed. He hoped he lived long enough to find out. With his second or third wife, probably, though. Not with Trish. Never with Trish.

He unlocked the front door. "Trish!" he called, in a conciliatory voice, hoping she didn't remember their final conversation of a few days ago. He had flowers for her, and some doodads he'd picked up on Rodeo Drive. "Honey, I'm home…"

"I'm in the bathroom," she replied. She didn't sound pissed off. He took that as a good sign. Peeping through the half-open door, his eyes bugged out and his tongue bounced off the floor.

Tricia stood on the rug before the mirror, checking her makeup. She looked fantastic. Normally she looked good, but right now she looked 'fantastic'. Like something out of a really hot porno movie. Like Hard-On City. She turned slowly. "Hello, and welcome home," she exhaled.

She was wearing a flimsy lavender teddy, semi-sheer and eager to hug and model the full, lush curves of her body. He loved garter belts and sexy stockings. Normally Trish wore pantyhose. Today she was in garters and pale violet stockings that caressed her legs all the way down to her gleaming red Fuck-Me shoes. She hardly ever wore the kind of tapering, elegant spikes that always caught his eye on other women's feet, but she was wearing them today. They made her legs look longer, her ass higher and rounder. She came to him, pushing her tits up against his chest and planting a big wet kiss on his mouth. It started on his mouth and took in the whole lower half of his face before it was done. He felt her heat with his body, with his hands, shimmering through the wispy lavender veil of her teddy, and he began to get very, 'very' excited.

She turned him around, pushing his ass up against the cabinet, wrapping her body around his. She wove her legs round his and humped herself sinuously up and down.

A strap fell off one shoulder, and the teddy's top dipped low, baring a full, perky-nippled tit. The nip was a little redder than usual. Trish fed it to his curious lips and Ken found the taste of body lotion. Strawberry. His favorite flavor. He sucked her nipple in, eating the sweet fruity taste from it.

"Let's go in the bedroom," Trish said in a breathy whisper. She climbed down from him, took his hand, and almost galloped away in her haste to get there. What the 'hell' had gotten into her? She dug sex, but she seemed burning for it now!

"I have some presents for you," he said, indicating the flowers, the giftwrapped boxes.

She smiled at the flowers, waved the others aside with a purry "Later, darling. 'I' have a present for you." She handed him a bag. From the drugstore at the shopping plaza. What the fuck? Ken reached inside and came out with a tube.

"K-Y?" he said, and then his face got red.

"Just in case," Trish leered. The erotic glow in her eyes overwhelmed him like a flood and she threw herself upon Ken.

They rolled in a blissful 69, feasting upon each other's organs. Ken's long fat prick slicked wetly in and out of Trish's mouth, while his tongue whipped her clit to a roaring frenzy. She pushed her wet excited snatch into his face and smothered him with the musky exudations of arousal. She masturbated his rod with trembling hands while she yummied his balls and teased her frisky tongue back into the crack of his ass.

His soulful "Ahhhhs" and the twitching of his stiffened body told her that she was doing a good job. But then, she already knew about most of this stuff! What she had in store for him was the surprise treat he had demanded.

He mouthed her to a moaning climax. His cunt-eating was always sweet, juicy, delicious to receive, but his mouth seemed driven by wild and crazy desires today. Or was she just too 'too' excited?

Trish came again, with screams and wails, her legs kicking high into the air, clad in their silk violet wrappings. One of her shoes flew off and shattered the glass of the far-wall window. "Eat me," she moaned, "oh, fucking eat me!!!"

She sat up slowly, Ken rising with her. She kissed her pussyjuice off his lips, tongue working into his mouth to taste her flavors again. She had a delicious cunt. She knew it. Kate had assured her it was true, and so had Roger, but she didn't have to be told. As she kissed him, she used both hands on his tool, stroking it, marveling at the stiffened power, the lustful energy pulsating from within him.

He really was big, and hard, and thick. Cradling his dick in her squeezing hands, she couldn't help wondering if it would be possible to get this thing up her shitter. Funny. Ken hadn't even mentioned their major topic of conversation from last time. Had he forgotten?

"Fuck me," she whispered into his mouth. "You made me come with your mouth. Now do it with your big sweet cock."

She spread for him, with her legs wide and her cunt split to show off the coral pink delights within. He mounted her and she reached down to guide his cock into her hole.

Trish was juiced and lubed and ready, thanks to the soulful pussy eating he had already given her. "Jesus!!!" she warbled as his cock stabbed into her hot moist heat.

She writhed a long moment, pinned beneath him, and then she began to fuck her body up to meet Ken's, swallowing and milking his tool inside her dripping-wet snatch.

It was a sweet, hot, athletic fuck. First he rode her, driving cock down deep into her cunt, and then she shimmied onto the top, bouncing hard and fast as she engulfed his prick between velvety-smooth, slippery- slick cuntal walls. The more he fucked her, the tighter her cunt seemed to grow, melting around his cock like fresh taffy.