"Hot and wild wife" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Heather)

CHAPTER TWO

Why am I doing this?

That's the question I asked myself over and over again. Sometimes it would come when I was right in the middle of some heavy action. I'd be going down on nine inches of hard-on and all of a sudden the question would surface in my mind.

Just shut up and suck, I'd answer myself, focusing all of my attention on the dick fucking my mouth.

But although I could put it off for awhile, the question always returned. Again and again. It got so that the only place I could temporarily flee from it was into the arms of some stranger from whom I'd hitched a ride. With his cock out, and hard and stiff in my mouth or cunt or ass, I could put the question off for awhile.

However, it inevitably returned. I was caught in a vicious cycle. The very thing that caused me to torture myself with the question, was my temporary salvation from it.

Sex with strangers was like a drug with me, my habit feeding itself more everyday.

Everyday I looked forward to it more. When I woke up in the morning, Leo already gone to the university, the first thing I thought about was how many cocks I was going to polish off today. I could hardly stand the delay of getting up and getting dressed before I could hit the streets and get what I wanted.

Plenty of wives cheat on their husbands, so there are lots of opportunities for the bored housewife. But I couldn't tolerate the preliminaries and delays of the usual ways to get a man in the sack with you. I didn't want to waste half a day seducing the TV repairman.

When I wanted sex, I wanted it immediately – with no strings attached. So I took to the streets, using my thumb as my passport, hitchhiking all over the city as a way to meet the guys whose clicks I craved.

I originally took up hitchhiking out of desperation, bored out of my mind with my meaningless routine as a housewife, not to mention my blah sex life with Leo. Impatient with my life, one day I burst out of the house in utter frustration, frantic for something to relieve me of my tediousness. I just started walking, not knowing where I was headed, pleased to just be out of that prison of a house.

I guess I just wanted movement, something happening in my day instead of doing housework and watching soap operas and game shows. When a guy pulled over to the curb and asked me if I wanted a ride, I automatically said yes, even though I was really going nowhere.

Getting it on with a stranger wasn't what I exactly had in mind when I accepted that first ride, but what happened after I got in the car opened up a whole new world of opportunity for me.

The driver of that first car was from out of town. Probably a salesman in town for a convention, cruising around in a rented car, maybe looking for hookers.

He was the kind of red-faced, middle-aged guy in loud polyester sports clothes that I ordinarily would have held in contempt. The kind of middle-American that Leo, as a college professor, was always putting down. Socially, I never had any contact with someone like this, as though we were from two different worlds.

But when I got in that car with him, the attraction between us was immediate and electric. The fact that he was a stranger and that Leo would have hated him suddenly made being with him very attractive. When he asked me where I was going, I answered, "Wherever you are."

He couldn't believe his luck and I couldn't believe I had said it.

"DO you mean it?" he said, the expression on his face a combination of doubt and anticipation.

Did I? I squirmed in my seat, trying to determine my answer. When my thighs rubbed together I suddenly realized that my pussy was soaking wet.

"Of course I meant it," I said. "Now, where are you going?"

"To my room," he said expectantly, saying it more as a question than a statement of fact.

I nodded my head, desperately wanting to keep the fire between my legs burning, and knowing I'd have to go along with him to do it. "To your room."

That's when I found out how accurately I'd sized him up. He was a farm implements salesman, in town for a convention at the civic center, staying at the Holiday Inn. As he babbled on, telling me about himself and his family back in Iowa, I found myself getting hornier and hornier. The more unlike Leo he seemed, the hotter I got. As he talked, I closed my eyes and imagined what his cock would be like, imagining my first taste of it.

I only stopped him when he started to tell me his name. "No, no," I blurted, realizing that one of the things making me so aroused was that we were total strangers. "That would ruin it if I knew your name," I tried to explain. "You just be he… and I'll be she. I'm sure we'll be, able to tell each other apart."

To make my point I put my hand between his legs, resting my hand on his crotch. The hardness of his cock under his checkered pants startled me. My fingers clutched the rising mound impulsively.

Then I took his hand and slid it under my skirt. My panties were soaked clear through, like they weren't there when his fingers reached my pussy. Immediately he began playing with my clit through the clinging panty fabric, rubbing me into a miniature orgasm.

"I see what you mean," he panted, "about me being me and you being you. Wait'll I get you inside the Holiday Inn."

"Let's not wait for the Holiday Inn," I blurted. "Do it to me here."

"Here… in the car?" he asked incredulously. Then a big grin spread across his broad face. "Shucks, I ain't done that since I was back in high school. Like when I first met my wife. You sure you wanna do it in the car, honey?"

I nodded, looking at him with eager eyes.

While he was still beaming, my fingers tore open his fly, grappling for his dick. In seconds I had it out, a long pink monster that looked as pampered and corn-fed as a prize country hog.

Just as I settled my lips in a wet ring around the head of his prick, the car swerved. My head banged against the dashboard after we came lurching to a sudden stop.

"Jesus," he whined. "You shouldn't suck a fella's cock while he's driving."

"Just shut up and fuck my mouth," I said, and then swallowed a good three inches of him.

"But there's people outside…"

"Forget 'em," I snapped just before engorging another couple of inches of his prick in my mouth.

"Okay," he panted. "I'll throw my leisure jacket over your head. That way nobody will see what you're doing."

I could no longer reply, my mouth stuffed with a half a foot of throbbing cock. Letting my thighs do my talking for me, I squeezed his hand at my pussy, drenching his fingers with oozing cunt-juice.

"Lemme go, lemme go," he said frantically. "I have to get my jacket off."

Contending myself with his prick in my mouth, I temporarily freed him. But when his jacket was covering my head, and I had no vision except what my imagination could provide me, I reached for his hand again, pulling it back into my crotch.

"Finger-fuck me," I begged him, temporarily letting his cock slip enough out of my mouth so I could talk. "Make me come."

As his fingers slid under my panties and rubbed against the sticky gash of my cunt, I saw it all in devastating detail in my mind. It was as though I had an eye at my clit, watching every juicy occurrence at my pussy.

Then, suddenly, the, question that has been recurring ever since asked itself for the first time, why am I doing this?

I had a home. An intelligent husband with an excellent job. Everything to live for. Everything to lose by behaving this way.

Shut up and suck, I told myself angrily. This is what you want.

And it was. This was what I had been missing from my respectable life as the wife of a college professor. Adventure. Sex. Sexual adventure. A throbbing cock in my mouth in the middle of the day. The ultimate escape from boredom.

This jerkwater farm implement salesman with no name and a face as open and bland as the prairie – he was everything my husband wasn't. Especially available.

And he was disposable. When I was through fucking him with my mouth, I'd cast him aside, the way a man does a used rubber. With Leo, I was stuck with him until death did us part, unless I had enough gumption to go through all the hassle of getting a divorce. This guy whose cock I was joyously sucking would be gone with the last traces of his cum.

The bonus, of course, was that the stranger's cock was so sweet-tasting. It seemed to melt in my mouth like a hot slice of Iowa roast pork at a Sunday dinner. Leo, on his best night, despite his fantastic IQ and four college degrees, never got it up like this yokel who was fucking my mouth.

His fingers rubbed against the outside of my cunt, foraging through my pubic hairs. My clit was batted back and forth like a miniature punching bag by his fingertips. With every swipe of his rough hand my pussy got wetter and wetter.

I beckoned him to begin finger-fucking me by twisting my cunt against his fingers. My pussy seemed to swallow his hand, pulling three fingers inside its sucking tunnel.

His fingers were in me all the way now, the outer row of knuckles pummeling against my clit. Ramming within me, his fingers roughly scraped the walls of my pussy, the electric friction driving me wild.

"God, you're wet," he said as he dug deeper and deeper into my cunt. "I don't think I've ever seen a juicer pussy, even on a hooker. And I've had a few of those when I was out on the town at these farm conventions in the big city."

Somehow it thrilled me to be compared with a hooker, a real pro at sex. That I could get money for what I was willing to do for free made me more excited than ever, as though I were too good for money.

My added arousal made me go down much harder on his prick. Gobbling it all the way to the balls, I tickled my lips against his wiry pubic hair. The head of his cock throbbed like a beating heart in my throat, its intense pounding adding to my own runaway pulse.

Between my legs I was coming up a storm, my cunt oozing forth a continuing discharge of hot, sticky female honey. His fingers pushed against the mouth of my womb, pouring gasoline on my orgasmic fire. I was insane with lust.

My head was moving suddenly like a piston as I went up and down on him as fast as I could, jacking him off with my lips. I was determined to make him come in my mouth. I didn't see how I could wait a second longer.

"Oh, God, I'm coming, I'm coming," he moaned. "I'm coming, sweet Jesus, I'm coming!"

God, was he! His cum swamped my mouth and throat, barreling into my belly in a hot, tight knot. Suddenly my body seemed filled with his discharge, sperm threatening to burst my insides.

Just when it seemed as though he would never stop coming, the spurting abruptly became a sloppy drool. Now his cock rested wetly in my mouth and excess sperm dribbled from the corners of my engorged mouth and trickled down my chin.

The taste and scent of his cum was intoxicating. It totally invaded my senses, leaving me a shuddering, orgasmic wreck.

My partner was even worse off. He slid sprawled against the door, his eyeballs rolling back in his head as he gasped for breath. I might have been concerned, but the happy look spread across his face told me that if he'd had a heart attack, he was going out happy.

I kept sucking his cock, but it was no use as it got smaller and smaller. In my cunt, his fingers had gone dead when he'd finished coming.

Wondering what I should do about him, I got dressed, trying to decide whether or not to just leave him there with his dick hanging out. I breathed easier when he started to stir, and then showed he was all right by sitting up and starting to talk.

"Say, honey," he panted, "that was some blow-job. After a deep throat like that, I just got to know your name."

No, I didn't want any names. Losing the anonymity would spoil everything. It all came to me in a flash that if I could keep it at an impersonal level, I could have all the extramarital sex I wanted and it wouldn't make me feel guilty. What I had done to this man by sucking his cock was the same as shaking his hand – just pressing flesh. One was social intercourse, the other sexual intercourse. Without emotion there wasn't much difference between the two. Despite the fact that I had sucked his cock, I could feel nothing for him because I wasn't even aware of his identity.

Perfect. He was nothing to me but a great big dick. And there was a whole city filled with thousands like it. All different… and all the same.

Before he could say any more, I waved him off. I gave him a goodbye peck on the cheek and, before be could move, was out the door, losing myself in the crowd.

As I walked home, I found myself whistling, my spirits soaring. Then I noticed that whenever a car passed by my heart leapt and I felt a squeezing in my cunt. By the time I reached the front door I was fantasizing about the cocks of the drivers.