Janet McCoy - The wife next door

"Hhnnn… that's the way! Keep it up, baby! Oohhhhh! Aaiieee!" Ken fought mightily against the urge to let himself go completely. He was determined to wait for the woman's climax. It wasn't easy, not with the way her talented cunt-muscles were stroking and massaging his iron-hard cock.

"Oh, Kenny… I love to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you!" Helen was lost in her own little world. The even, forceful tempo of her words indicated she was pushing herself up there. She was ready to go. "Aaahhhhh… oooohhhhhhhh I'm cummmmm-ing-g-g!"

With this signal, Ken let go in a hot explosive rush. They writhed together in moaning, shuddering orgasm.

Emma didn't allow herself the luxury of crying aloud, but she, too, experienced orgasm as the couple let go. Her clitoris seemed to seize up, then her whole body relaxed. She felt totally devoid of strength, of thought.

Only the sounds from the other room could spur her into action.

"Kenny honey… I feel wonderful. Let's go like out in the sun for a while, okay? I'll make us some spiked lemonade."

Emma pulled up her jeans and ran home as fast as her legs could carry her. Only when she was in her own house did she take the trouble to pull up the zipper of her fly. She lay down on the couch and tried to assimilate the experiences of the last hour.

She hadn't got the Drano, but she had got something much more important from Helen. Unbeknownst to Helen.

She had got the idea for a kind of sexuality she would never before have dared claim as her own. But now the uppermost thought in her mind was: "If Helen can do it, why can't I?"

It had been a hard day at the lab. Harry was glad to be home.

He opened the front door, expecting to head into his study, as usual, and read until dinner. He was not prepared for the surprise that awaited him.

Emma was waiting just inside the door. She wore a pair of soft, low-cut silk pajamas that flattered her lush figure. She held a martini in each hand and pushed one at Harry before he even had a chance to put down his briefcase and hang up his raincoat.

"What's the occasion?" he asked nervously as he hung his coat on a peg by the door. He searched his mind for reasons for Emma's behavior. Her birthday had just passed. Their anniversary was not until November.

"No occasion, darling. I just wanted you and me to spend some nice mellow, sexy tune together, that's all." Emma's eyes glimmered with excitement. Ever since yesterday morning, when she had watched Helen and her boyfriend Ken, she had been fighting a mental battle with herself.

She was reluctant to cheat on her husband. Even though Helen's situation had looked very attractive, she wanted to be sure she had given Harry every last chance. She thought perhaps she could teach him to be sexy, if she tried hard enough.

She had turned the radio on to the romantic music station. She had spent all afternoon doing her hair and rubbing herself with sweet-smelling lotions, painting her nails. Her efforts had excited her, had worked her up for her husband's arrival home.

Harry smiled at his eager wife. "That's a wonderful idea, honey. Why don't we wait until after dinner, though? It's been a hard day, and I could really use some quiet time in the den. I've got some things to think out."

Emma was firm. "You've got your whole life to think about things. Tonight is for your wife."

He put an arm gently around her shoulder. "We've got a whole lifetime together, honey. Surely we can wait until after dinner."

"Maybe you can wait until after dinner, Harry. I can't. I want you to start paying some attention to me, Harry." Her voice was pleading. "I'm not like your old leather coat. I'm not guaranteed for the life of the owner."

Harry sensed the unvoiced threat in his wife's argument, though he avoided facing it squarely. He did take his wife by the arm and lead her into the living room. She softened at once.

"Oh Harry, darling… I get so lonely for you sometimes." She snuggled against his chest and fondled his soft silky beard. Her full breasts grazed against him suggestively.

Harry was beginning to become aroused by his wife's appearance and manner. But he was more worried about what had caused this sudden change in her. For one thing, Emma never wore makeup, but she was sure wearing it tonight. "Listen, honey, I'm really sorry you're feeling down. Why don't you sign up for one of those night courses they give at the college? It should help occupy your time."

"I don't want things that will just occupy my time, Harry. I want to enjoy what I do. I want to feel alive. And Harry," she wriggled her tits right under his chin and kissed him on the forehead, "I'm not feeling down. I'm feeling very up. And you could make me feel even higher."

Harry was flabbergasted. His wife was acting like a twenty-five-dollar whore. What could have gotten into her? Still, her breasts did look good under that chest-hugging silk.

"You like my titties, Harry?"

"Of course I like your tits, Emma. I married you, didn't I?"

Emma was beginning to feel frustrated, angry. She fought the feelings. She was going to make Harry let go of his inhibitions if it was the last thing she ever did. She reached over and undid her husband's tie. She began to unbutton his shirt. He stiffened.

"What's the matter, Harry?"

"I just don't feel sexy right now, Emma. Why don't we wait until bedtime?" He smiled at her promisingly.

"We always wait until bedtime, Harry. I'm going to get myself another martini. Why don't you finish yours?" Emma had called a momentary halt in her campaign. She was discouraged by Harry's attitude, his rigidity. But she was still determined to get fucked tonight – before bedtime.

For the next hour, Emma kept the martinis flowing. Harry never as a rule took more than one drink. This evening, she made sure he had three. She herself had four. She was feeling blissfully happy and optimistic once again by the time dinner hour rolled around.

She served a casserole and insisted that Harry open a bottle of wine to go with it. "Come on, Harry. Tonight's special."

"But Emma, I have to go to work in the morning."

"So… you'll have all night to sleep it off. And the world won't come to an end if you're an hour or two late for work."

"Sometimes I think you'll never understand me, Emma. I don't like to be late for work."

"Drink, Harry."

The young husband was so confused by his wife's behavior that he in fact welcomed the effects of the alcohol. It made everything seem all right. He was beginning to feel a little silly himself.

When they had finished their dinner, they took their wine glasses into the living room. Harry settled himself on the sofa and waited for his wife to sit beside him. Instead, she dropped to her knees on the rug in front of him. She pulled his cock deftly from his fly. Before he had even registered what was happening, she was sucking the head of his prick. The sensations were too good to be denied.

"Jeez, Emma… I don't know what's got into you. You're acting so… sexy! Uuuuhh… shit, that feels good!" He braced himself against the couch cushions on either side of him. He looked very much as though he expected the excitement in his stiffening prick to carry him off.

"I am sexy, Harry!" she told him as her tongue trailed round and round his swollen cock-head. "I like to be sexy. I like to suck your cock! Mmmm, tastes wonderful!" In the back of Emma's mind was the lustful scene she had witnessed yesterday. Helen sucking Ken's cock while he ate her pussy. She would like to do that with Harry, but she realized that might be more than he could handle right now. She would be content to make love to his cock with her mouth.

Emma had determined to show her husband what she was really like sexually. That was the fair way. To give him a chance to respond – and if he didn't, there was always Helen's way. Naked on the rug with a man not her husband. All inhibitions destroyed by the alcohol, Emma felt her cunt getting wet at the obscene thoughts she was entertaining. She wondered if her wetness would show through her lounging pajamas. She was not wearing any panties, especially for this occasion.