Donna Allen
Wide-open wife

CHAPTER ONE

Joanna Barton arched her body so that when Gilbert Finch reached for the globes of her heavy tits they filled his palms like ripe fruit. She wore no bra beneath the thin fabric of her blouse, and her nipples were prodding his hands. She thought of her husband. She thought of how shocked he would be if he could see his boss, Gilbert Finch, with his hands on her tits. Finch had strong hands. Joanna was amazed at her own wantonness, at the unexpected realization that she liked to be handled this way.

She dropped to her knees in front of Finch, her hands fluttering at his crotch. She found his throbbing cock under the material of his pants. She dipped her face down to brush her lips against the bulge. She worked her fingers at the zipper of his fly.

Finch leered down at her. He sprawled back in his swivel chair. "Go to it, baby," he said. "My secretary never comes in here uninvited."

Joanna brought out his swollen cock. She stroked his thick meat, smiling. After almost ten years of marriage, this was the first time she'd ever handled any man's cock except her husband's. She told herself she was doing it to help her husband's career. Finch was regional sales manager for Warren Chemicals, and Joanna's husband was one of his salesmen. Michael wasn't very good at selling things. He certainly couldn't sell himself. He needed help. Joanna had decided to secretly help him by seducing Finch. She'd thought it would be difficult to go through with it. It turned out not to be difficult at all. It turned out to be enjoyable. She'd always thought of herself as a shy, quiet woman destined to lead a dull life. Now, with Finch's throbbing cock in her hand, her destiny seemed to have suddenly changed. She liked his uncircumcised cock. Her head bowed, she snaked out her tongue to lick the straining, exposed cockhead. She tilted her face so that she could look up at him and see his reaction. As her tongue swirled over, the head of his cock, the expression of pleasure on his face satisfied her expectations. She enjoyed giving him pleasure because she knew he could help her husband. She also enjoyed the taste of his cock.

Covering the fat cockhead with a series of wet kisses, she lapped at the puffy slit to coax out some of his fluid. When she closed her lips over him, he began pumping his cock into her mouth. His hands were on her tits again, his fingers digging at the resilient flesh. He pinched and tugged her nipples with his thumbs and fingers.

"Suck it!" he hissed.

Doubled over her like this, his hands clawing at her tits, Finch found himself staring down her back. Her skirt was pulled up to her waist and he could see her bikini panties stretched tight across her plump ass. She was a good-looking woman. His own wilt was a useless prune with a dried-up cunt. He'd always been jealous of Barton, and now here he had Barton's wife sucking on his cock and obviously enjoying it. He had great plans for Joanna Barton. He had great plans, indeed.

Joanna made soft mewling sounds as she took more of the raging cock into her mouth. Her hands guided the shaft. Her fingers played lightly over, the silky skin. She washed the turgid pole with her lips and tongue. She bobbed her head, slowly at first, then more rapidly. She took in the length of his throbbing cock until she had his hot cockhead pressing at the back of her throat. She thought she'd choke. But, she accommodated the long cock with the ease of swallowing a large popsicle. She took it all the way into her throat, sucking with a happy frenzy.

Finch moaned as the pressure in his balls increased. It seemed as if every nerve fiber in his cock registered the faintest touch of her warm, enveloping mouth. The suction of her lips became the center of all sensation in his body.

Joanna suddenly pulled her head away, leaving his saliva-coated cock aching with the shock of interrupted pleasure.

His eyes glazed, Finch vented a deep groan of irritation.

Joanna peered at the swollen cock and then looked up at him coquettishly. "I like your prick," she said. "It's like you. It's very strong.

Finch managed a short grunt. Barton's wife was turning out to be a juicy piece of ass. "Stand lip," he said.

Joanna looked surprised. "Don't you want me to finish?" She held his cock in one hand, aiming it toward her cheek. She could feel the shaft pulsating.

"I said stand up," Finch repeated.

She let his cock fail onto the tail of his crisp, white shirt. She stood up. Her skirt was pulled up high and twisted so that one side was nearly at her waist and the other at the bottom edge of her panties.

Extending his hand, Finch traced the bulge of her cunt with a fingertip.

"You're sopping wet with cuntjuice," he said.

He pushed his finger against her slippery, nylon-covered pussy. Then he moved his hands up to the elastic waistband of her panties and pulled them down to her knees.

Joanna found herself blushing. She still had a trace of her summer tan, and the bikini area was a pale white. Finch stroked his thumb possessively over the dark hair at her crotch. She had a thick bush of cunt-hair. She'd always thought of it as being very sexual, and she hoped Finch did, too. She wanted to turn him on. She wondered if he could smell her. She could feel the wetness on the insides of her thighs, and she wondered if men had a special sensitivity to the smell of a woman's juices.

Sliding his middle finger between her cuntlips, he slowly pushed it all the way up inside the dripping hole.

She stared at him, her breathing increasing in tempo. She spread her legs wide. She pulled her dress up higher so she could watch the movements of his fingers.

Finch chuckled. "You're really hot, aren't you? I like that. I like a woman who enjoys fucking. Do you like fucking, Joanna?"

"Yes!" she hissed.

"I never thought you'd be such a hot piece. You've got a great cunt – lots of hair and lots of juice. That's the way it's supposed to be, isn't it? I bet your husband has a fine old time with this pussy. Do you make him suck it? Tell me, Joanna, does Mike ever go down on this sweet little pussy?"

"Sometimes," she moaned. It was a lie. Her husband hardly ever did it.

Finch pulled his finger out of her wet cunt with a small popping sound. She watched in amazement as he wiped his finger off on his handkerchief. Then, as though she were nothing but a piece of machinery he'd just checked for flaws, he pulled up her panties and patted her ass. "Okay," he said. "You can kneel down again."

Joanna paled. "Aren't we going to fuck?" She felt strange talking like that to a man who wasn't her husband.

"No time," Finch said. "Just get down there and suck me off."

"Oh, God," she said. Her frustration was obvious. Finch seemed to enjoy it.

"On your knees," He said. There was a firmness in his voice that sent a shiver up her spine.

She sulked. She crouched down on her knees. She looked at his swollen cock without touching it.

"Suck it," he said.

She glanced up at him, blushing at the leer on his face. She knew she couldn't hold out against him. They both knew it.

Wetting her lips with her tongue, she closed her mouth over the swollen head of his cock.

Venting a deep grunt, Finch grabbed her ears and jammed his hard cock into her mouth. He fucked her mouth as though it were a cunt. The wet suction she applied was enough to get him off. He soon, blasted into her throat with a volley of hot jism. Her pliant, soft mouth sucked at his pulsating cock. Her tongue whipped against his fuck meat, urging out spurt after spurt of hot cum. She hadn't expected so much of it coming out of a man his age. She felt his body relax as she vacuumed the last drops into her throat. Her tongue curled out of her mouth to lewdly swab the dribble off her lips. She finally rose up and smoothed the wrinkles out of her blouse and skirt. A moment later, Finch's secretary buzzed him on the telephone. Joanna tossed him a nervous smile and walked out.

Joanna went home. Her husband was out of town again. She was thankful he wasn't there to see the guilty look in her eyes. She still had the taste of Finch's jism on her tongue. Mouthwash took care of that. The ache in her pussy was something else. She needed relief. Sucking Finch's cock and swallowing his jism had been terribly exciting. She knew that sooner or later she'd have to give in to the urge to masturbate. She had no qualms about it – it was something she did almost every day. It was healthy. It kept her relaxed and in control, but of course it wasn't enough. She'd always been a woman who liked sex with a partner. She liked the feel of a man's cock in her cunt. She liked a cock in her mouth. She liked sucking. There was something lewd and animal-like about moving her mouth up and down on a throbbing cock. The memory of Finch's prick in her mouth brought a quiver to her pussy. She was still highly stimulated by what she'd done with him.

She went to the bedroom and pulled the shades. It was past three o'clock and there were children playing in the street. Kicking off her shoes, she sank down on the bed. She stared vacantly at the ceiling. It was nice to have a day off from her secretarial job at the bank. She hated banks. She hated bankers. They were all so stuffy. They all seemed constipated. She giggled at the vulgar thought. She laid a hand across her tit. It felt warm and soft. She casually massaged the full mound of her tit. Her husband liked her tits, or so he said. You could never tell with Michael. Sometimes she wasn't certain whether she still turned him on. She liked it when he touched her tits. She liked touching them herself. They were nice to touch. The nipples always grew up long and hard, like tiny cocks demanding attention.

Her legs were spread apart. Moving her hand down, she cupped her palm over the furnace of her cunt.

Take it easy, she thought. Don't rush it. It's better if you don't rush it.

The touch of her hand on her cunt was delicious. She could masturbate without removing her panties. She'd always done it that way when she was a young girl. She was certain she'd had the wettest crotch of any girl in high school. Her clit was so sensitive it could respond to the slightest touch of her finger through the fabric of her panties. But of course it was always better when she was naked, when she could get her fingers inside her wet pussy.

She finally peeled her panties down to her knees. She remembered the way Finch had explored her cunt. He'd examined her the way you look at a horse's teeth. She shivered at the memory of it. She wondered if he'd want to see her again, if he'd want to fuck her. He was the first strange man she'd touched in ten years. She slipped her hand down across her clit and into the steaming heat of her cunt.

Her fingers probed into the folds. She slid one finger into the deep, clutching canal. The sensation was exquisite. Her pelvis began to rock back and forth with a fucking motion. One hand rubbing her tits and nipples, she used the other hand to massage her wet, overheated cunt.

She imagined herself with Finch. She imagined the hands on her body were his. She imagined he was getting ready to fill her quivering pussy with his strong cock. Her fingers fluttered over her cunt, spreading her juices between her cuntlips.

"Fuck me!" she moaned. "Please, fuck me!"

The words escaped out of her throat. Her fingers made a sucking sound as they massaged the heated tissues of her drenched pussy. Her breath came in a rasping wheeze. Her body quaked. She drummed her fingers across the stiff bud of her clit. She wanted a man. She wanted the feel of a hard cock inside her cunt. She wanted the feel of a man's meat churning her juices into a froth.

She felt her fluids gushing up with the first devastating contraction of her inner muscles. She spasmed and jackknifed her legs. The features of her face distorted in the throes of her climax. She pushed two fingers into the hot grip of her cunt-hole, fucking herself with a rapid, piston-like motion. As she mewled and groaned, her cuntjuice spurted out with each contraction of her belly. Gobs of juice trickled down the crack of her ass.

Later, when she had her breath back again, she stripped off her clothes and lay naked on the bed. She could feel the sweat under her arms and between her tits. The insides of her thighs were damp. Her cunt was hot and wet. One orgasm was never enough, and she knew that soon she'd need more.

She'd always found it hard to believe that no more than two men had ever had their cocks inside her pussy. One of the men had really been a young boy. The other man was the guy she'd married. She was one of those quiet types, one of those women who seethed with sexuality but never did much about it. All that would change now. After the session with Gilbert Finch, her life could never be the same again. She had too much sexual hunger to be content any more with an occasional bout with her husband.

The urge to masturbate was as strong as ever. She decided that this time she'd have more control. She left the bed and stood in front of the long closet mirror. She studied her body. She squeezed her tits together, flattening the firm globes one against the other. She had large, heavy tits. They were full, but not overdeveloped. When she released the pointed mounds, they sprang erect and resilient, their conical tips quivering. Whenever she handled her tits, the dark nipples always responded, hardening and becoming elongated, thickening like ripe buds. She turned her body to look at her ass. Her husband always insisted she had a luscious ass. She cupped her hands over the cheeks of her ass and squeezed. She pulled the cheeks apart. She massaged them with a rotating motion. Her most secret fantasy was to be fucked in the ass by a dominant man. No man, dominant or otherwise, had ever done it to her. She was too shy to ask her husband to do it – she was afraid she'd lose his respect. Maybe some man would soon do it to heir. Maybe when it happened she'd be too afraid to go through with it. Just thinking about it made her shiver.

She turned back to face the mirror. She stood with her legs apart and separated the pink lips of her cunt. She stared at the gaping hole. She thought of Finch's probing fingers. She pushed her own finger inside her cunt, but it wasn't enough. She desperately looked around for something. She finally grabbed a hairbrush off the dresser and pushed the handle up her cunt with a deep groan.

She fucked herself with the handle, pistoning it in and out, churning her cunt until her body at last convulsed in shattering orgasm.