Janet McCoy - The wife next door

There was only one thing Sam Robbins liked better than fucking in general.

That was fucking his well-stacked wife Helen in particular.

He sat on a kitchen chair watching her go through the ritual of her Saturday morning chores. It was a luxurious feeling – to have the whole day in front of him, with nothing scheduled, with nothing more pressing to do than to watch the taut wiggle of Helen's ass as she rummaged under the sink for her Mr. Clean.

No doubt about it, he thought lustfully. I have got myself one hell of a good-looking old lady. He began to toy with the idea of impaling her right there. Of pulling down her snug little pink shorts and filling her ever-ready twat with a swollen seven inches.

The effect of his fantasy on his penis was impressive. It began to grow and throb under his bathrobe. Part of a day off for Sam was to sit around in his old robe, all day if he felt like it. It felt sexy to have his prick so close at hand. All he had to do was reach inside the fold of his robe.

While he caressed his cock gently, he watched Helen reach up to scrub the cupboards over the counter. The effort made her full breasts stand out invitingly and emphasized the long graceful sweep of her shapely legs. Helen was a tall woman, almost six feet. She was a good two inches taller than Sam. That was the way he liked his women – a good, substantial handful. Besides, he always joked with his friends, it made it a lot easier to fuck standing up when the woman was taller than the guy.

Sam began to fantasize pushing Helen against the fridge, pulling down her shorts and screwing her with her sponge still in her hand. His cock was feeling better and better. It had reached its full length and girth. It was getting impatient for some warm, wet action.

"What's going on in that mischievous head of yours?" Helen called back over her shoulder. "I don't trust you when you it so quiet." Her long thick red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. It bobbed saucily as she scrubbed.

"Just admiring your obvious assets, my dear. Not to mention your unflagging passion for work." Sam was a real estate agent, and he met a lot of good-looking women in the course of his work, but not one of them compared with his wife – her red hair, her bouncing big tits, her swelling ass – or so he thought at the moment. There were, of course, times on the job when he let a deal slip by him in preference for a quick ten minutes' fuck in the empty living room of a house he was showing. There were also the times when a bargain was sealed up inside some warm hungry cunt belonging to a lady with too much money and too little cock from her old man.

Helen knew all about these impulsive trysts, in principle if not always in particulars. Sam knew she got her own jollies on the side. Neither of them objected to the other's infidelity. It only made their marriage more exciting, more vital. No two days were ever the same.

No two fucks were ever the same.

Sam was beginning to imagine what it would be like to wrap Helen's legs around his waist and fuck her with her red hair grazing the floor. Too much work, he decided, as his brain searched for new fantasies. His attention was distracted momentarily by a movement along the hedge that separated the Robbins' yard from their next-door neighbors'.

The moving object was the head of Emma Tate. Sam felt a momentary twinge of desire for the attractive brunette. She was probably taking out the garbage. Maybe he should go out and try to make some conversation.

Hell no, he decided. It's going to take more than a chat in an alley to get me into her pants. But one of these days Helen's eyes followed the direction of her husband's gaze as she turned away from her scrubbing.

"Still spinning daydreams about the fair Emma, eh, stud?" She giggled as she drained the water from the sink and rinsed her sponge under the jet-flow of tap water. "Don't worry, baby. Your day will come."

"Shit, she's tight as a fucking drum. Every time I even look at her sideways, she turns six shades of pink and heads for the hills."

"Did it ever occur to you that she might be intrigued? That she might be trying to work up the nerve to do something about her own secret desires? Her husband's a sweetheart, but I really don't think he's got what it takes to take care of Emma indefinitely."

"So you thing I've got a chance, do you, baby?"

"Sure I do. I know a sensual woman when I see one. Emma's practically vibrating with it all the time. She just hasn't turned on yet to the fact that she can have her cake and eat it too."

Sam was satisfied with his wife's assessment of his chances of seducing his pretty neighbor. He was ready to dismiss that subject and return his concentration to his own sexy wife. His hand began to work more energetically along his swollen cock-shaft.

Only now did Helen notice what he was doing. "So…" she accused him in mock indignation. "The thought of stuffing dear Emma has got your big cock throbbing!"

"Actually, my dear, what got my big cock throbbing was watching that delicious body of yours bending and stretching in every which direction. I was trying to decide how best to fuck you, my dear." Sam's tone was very serious, but his eyes twinkled with unabashed lust.

"My, what a nice thing to think about. Would you care for any suggestions?"

Watching her handsome husband pumping his dick was rapidly bringing Helen's twat to a low wet boil. She stared into his dark brown eyes that were becoming heavy-lidded with arousal. His head of thick black curls tilted back slightly. His upper lip pouted sexily under this thick mustache.

"Oh, Sam, darling, what a delectable sight you are!" She poked a finger inside the crotch of her shorts and began to investigate the moist folds of her hairy snatch. She leaned back against the sink for support and spread her legs lewdly. Her finger prodded the yielding hole of her pussy, then moved on up to her clitoris. "Uuuuuhh," he moaned as her finger grazed the blood-stretched membrane. "Ooohhh, Sam darling, you have such a nice hard cock there. I want to fuck it. Can I, huh?"

Absorbed in the lewd abandon of her sudden arousal, Helen worked her hand greedily inside the crotch of her shorts. She thrust her pubis out toward her watching husband, spreading her legs even wider. She smiled suggestively as she saw the effect her behavior was having on her man.

"How can I say no to a lady?" Sam murmured thickly. His tongue was running nervously along the lower fringe of his mustache. His robe had fallen open on either side of his thighs. The dark kinky hairs around the base of his swollen cock drew attention to his turgid shaft like a garland of roses around a race horse's neck.

"Oh Sam, I've got to have that cock in me!" Never taking her eyes from the pink fleshy shaft of Sam's cock, Helen reached back and unfastened the zipper of her shorts. She slipped them down over her hips and let them fall to the floor. She was not wearing panties. She never wore panties.

The bright red triangle of her cunt was fully visible to her staring husband. Her wedding ring shone amidst the forest of her kinky pubic hair as her fingertips toyed obscenely with her hungry pussy. "I'm going to fuck you now, Sam."

She moved close to Sam where he sat on the kitchen chair. She straddled his legs with her own and started to sit down. At the first touch of his rounded cock-head on her cunt, she paused. "Want it, baby?" she teased him. "Do you want my wet clinging cunt on your lovely big cock?" She was quivering with the excitement of feeling his cock-tip grazing her sensitized pussy.

She wanted it bad. Her passion-slackened face said that clearly.

Eager as he was to have his cock buried in his wife's cunt, Sam couldn't resist teasing her for a minute. "Jeez, baby… I don't know. Are you sure you want to go through with this? You know you're acting like a shameless slut, don't you?"