Gale Roman
Swinging wife

CHAPTER ONE

Sally Winters, watched her husband Bill, as he drove down the driveway of their split-level home in Spring Valley, New York.

Rather than feeling a sense of loss, she felt a curious elation. Now that he was gone for at least nine hours, (and hopefully more), she could relax and plan her day, not his. Just thinking about the sexual encounters that were most assuredly hers made her clit jump between her cuntlips at a rapid rate, matched only by the beating of her heart.

She strolled to the bathroom and surveyed herself in the mirror. Her eyes, which were green, were bright and sparkling. A little mascara, discreetly placed, would enhance them even more. Her skin, which resembled that of pure, rich cream, would suffice with a little powder. Her full lips, nicely formed and alluring even to herself, needed only a glistener to highlight their sensuality. Yes, there was no question about it. Sally Winters was a magnificent specimen of human femininity, and she knew it.

Unfortunately, the clod who had married her was so involved in making his way to the top in the advertising agency he had joined after college, he was not that keenly aware of his wife's desirability.

At first this had depressed Sally. Brought up in the belief that one was faithful to one's spouse, Sally had suffered the torment of the faithful. But once she had gotten her head together about her own needs, Sally suffered no longer. In fact, Sally was far from suffering. She was one of the most contented, happiest suburban housewives on the block, and her husband had had little or actually nothing at all to do with it.

Giving herself a self-satisfied smile, Sally turned away from the mirror and began to make the rest of her body more pleasing to her lovers. She began with a hot, steaming shower. Then, with the help of an expensive perfume, deodorant and feminine suppository, Sally felt ready to engage the world.

Powdering herself and slipping into a colorful, coal and simple cotton dress, Sally returned to the kitchen where she enjoyed her second cup of perked coffee.

It wasn't long before the doorbell rang. Raising herself automatically from the breakfast nook, Sally tilted her head into a queenly posture and prepared herself for her first encounter. It mattered little that the person on the other side knew that he or she was in for a sexual bout, as Sally was always highly successful with her seductions. If the person met with her own high standards, there was no doubt in her mind that in a short while they would be lying between her legs, panting and begging for more.

She opened the door with a flourish, to the somewhat startled expression of a young man in his late twenties.

"Oh, hi!" he blurted, reaching for his head, as though to tip an imaginary cap.

Sally appraised the young man standing before her. She slowly raised and lowered her green eyes, letting them flicker sensually over the man's body, resting finally on his face. It was a very nice face. Smooth-shaven, well-formed and topped off by a shock of brown, wavy hair and light-brown eyes.

The young man did nothing but gape back at Sally. Her method of staring at him took him totally by surprise, though he was no novice in the encountering of horny housewives. In fact, it was the only blessing in his existence. He hated what he was selling, had no belief in the product and was merely passing time until some good luck struck him.

"I won't ask if your mother is home," he said, "because I would be very sorry to hear that she said."

Sally smiled at him. She backed away from the door, her movement a silent invitation to enter. The young man, Tom, wasted no time in correctly interpreting this gesture. He also moved automatically towards her. It was his natural reaction, for he really wanted to move so close to her that his cock would be shoved so firmly and high up into her cunt, she would feel as though she had died and gone to heaven.

They were inside now, still staring, at each other. Tom's lower lip began to tremble, without his being aware of it. Spittle was forming in his mouth.

"I was wondering…" he began, but Sally didn't want to hear any of his sales pitch bullshit. She had no interest whatsoever in whatever it was that he was selling. She was interested only in fucking and sucking him.

She reached towards him, her arms going directly to his waist, for all that she was interested in was what existed from the waist down. Her right hand came up between his slightly parted thighs and she caressed his crotch, fully covered by what society dictated the young salesman should wear.

As for Tom, his heart began pounding faster. He yearned to latch onto her, crushing her to his own body, feeling her ribs mashed into his, her tits pressing against his chest, but he did nothing. There was something about the way Sally had taken control of the situation. Something about the way in which she had made the first move that made Tom feel as helpless as a young boy.

He wanted to take her, yet was not against being taken. In fact, his whole body yearned to be swept away by this lovely woman standing before him. Though he was older than her, he felt that she was superior to him in age. Nothing in her physical appearance gave rise to this sensation in hit mind. Certainly, if anything, Sally resembled a virgin of fourteen. Nothing in her sexual history had left a visible mark on her. Each man who fucked her always was given the sensation that he was the first. Naturally, it wasn't true, but there was something in the way Sally made love to each of her men that left them with the impression he was the first. Her technique was so flawless, her desire for them so genuine, it was hard for most men to duplicate her performance with others.

Right now, Tom was drawn towards her like a man drawn to an angel on the other side of a fiery abyss. Not knowing whether or not her husband would appear at any moment, he was willing to forfeit life and limb for a chance to bury his head or cock between her steamy thighs.

Without even thinking about it, he fell to his knees and began to nose around between her legs for her cunt.

Sally felt Tom's breath blowing against the thin fabric of her summer dress and she resented the interference that the covering provided. Tearing viciously at her garment, she tore it to pieces and let it fall around Tom's head and onto the floor.

Now Tom was facing what he had longed to face. Her pussy hairs were tickling his nostrils. Fighting his desire to stick his moist tongue into her puffy slit, he rose from his knees and began to strip out of his own clothes.

Sally observed this with relish. With each exposing of a different part of his flesh, her heart quickened in excitement. He had the broad barrel of a chest covered with hairs that thrilled her. His slim hips sloped down to long, lean and muscled legs, and there in the center was what she hungered for – his exceptionally well-endowed cock.

Its thick, pole-like shaft, covered with swollen veins, strained towards her. Its broad, mushroom-like head sought her cunt out with its slant eye, glistening now with a drop of pre-cum.

And swaying gently in two well-formed sacs were his magnificent balls, sparsely covered with fine pubic hairs, plump with fuckjuice. Now it was Sally's turn to fall to her knees; though she would have preferred the comfort of her bed, her desire and lust for this handsome stranger was so overwhelming, she opted for the kitchen floor.

Opening her mouth with an agonized, small cry, and seizing his cock with her right hand, Sally began jerking his meat in and out of her wet mouth with such speed, Tom felt that if he got swallowed up like this, his whole life would have been worth it.

His blood began to race faster and faster with each new lick she gave his prick, each new gently pulling suck she exerted on his hot cock.

Tom spread his legs as far apart as he could and stood gently rocking back and forth on his heels, holding Sally's head between his hands. He had his cock sucked off by the best, but Sally's hungry mouth working out on his cock made all the previous attempts seem like the effort of amateurs.

He could feel his cock slipping easily in and out of her mouth, the tightness he desired created by the sucking motions she was making with her prick-stuffed cheeks. Her eyes were closed now, and her head was tilted back to allow easy entrance for his cock to slip down her throat. He could feel his cum begin to boil in his balls and he hated to shoot his load down her eager throat without fucking her first.

Jerking his cock unceremoniously out of her mouth, he began to force her back on her back, her lop high over her head, her cunt gaping and eager for his hot prick.

Squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure, Tom seized his cock and began nosing about the hairy pathway to Sally's hole.

He had wanted to eat her, too, but maybe later. How could he do everything at once when he needed to get his rocks off now? He wanted his cock buried inside her twat, clamped tightly by her cunt muscles, squeezing and milking his cock until he had shot all his hot jizz into her horny cunt.

As for Sally, she, too, would have enjoyed feeling his tongue slopping around her clit and juicy cunt. Getting eaten out was one of Sally's favorite things and foregoing it now only made her more determined to get it taken care of later.

Now, she could lose, herself in the wonderful feeling that swept her entire being as she felt the thickness of Tom's cock wedging more and more firmly up into her twat.

Her hips began bucking automatically, rising higher and higher off the floor, snapping back and forth like a crazed horse.

Tom rasped her around her plump buttocks, squeezing tighter and tighter, hanging on for all he was worth, a pleased smile on his face. Her fuck-rhythm seemed to meld with his. A primitive and pure kind of motion that cared nothing for what men would call it. They were fucking and enjoying themselves.

"Fuck me!" Sally suddenly yelled, loving the sound of the word.

Her hips rose and thrashed more urgently than before and Tom, who was doing everything in his power to satisfy this woman, wondered about her briefly for a moment. What the hell was the matter with her husband? he wondered. Couldn't he satisfy a hot-blooded cunt like her? Was she truly so insatiable that she had to fuck strangers to quench her endless lust? If so, he was glad she had chosen him. Try as he could to remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much, it was difficult. The only experience that even came close to what he was enjoying right now was the time his mother sent him to Mrs. Martin's house to collect her dues for the Grange.

Tom had hated those errands. He always felt that he was doing his mother's dirty work, and he was. But Mrs. Martin had turned out totally unlike the other women he normally encountered. To begin with, he couldn't believe a woman like Mrs. Martin was even living in their hick farm community. Much less that she would be interested in joining a dumb outfit like their Grange. Tom himself hated the Grange. But Tom forgot how much he had hated the Grange when Mrs. Martin had let him in the house.

"I don't have the money right now," Mrs. Martin had said.

Tom lowered his eyes. He had heard that bullshit so much, it was getting to be boring to him.

"Yeah," he said listlessly.

"But I will have it tomorrow," Mrs. Martin had gone on rapidly. "You see, George, my husband, is off on the Alaskan pipeline, looking for work. So far he hasn't been able to get any, but he sends me what he can, when he can."

Tom had risen at this point. He didn't want to hear any more tales of grief.

"Wait!" Mrs. Martin had blurted. "Don't go yet. Won't you stay and have some cookies?"

Tom tried not to laugh aloud at this awkward gesture to treat him like a child. He was not a child any longer. He took satisfaction and secret pride in the fact that when he jacked off, he was able to hit the light bulb in his bedroom with his sperm; as far as Tom was concerned, he was a man.

"No," he said, rudely, "I'm not interested in cookies."

His abruptness startled both of them. "I… I mean," Tom stammered, "I'd rather have a beer."

Mrs. Martin laughed aloud at this and Tom noticed for the first time how white her teeth were and how pretty she was when she smiled.

"I have plenty of beer!" she said cheerfully. "In fact, I wouldn't mind having one myself!"

Tom was quick to follow Mrs. Martin into the kitchen, in an effort to help, but she didn't need his help. She cracked two beers open with all the flourish of a professional barmaid and handed him a very cold one.

Tom had taken the beer, feeling the coolness of the frost-covered aluminum melt underneath his already sweaty palms. Raising it towards her in a mock toast, he said aloud: "To your husband finding work in Alaska!"

"I'll drink to that!" Mrs. Martin agreed loudly. "Shit! It's hell not having any money," she added, looking out the window.

Tom realized suddenly that Mrs. Martin also didn't have any children. This was odd in their farming community, and he wondered if she used birth-control devices. He hoped so. Suddenly, more than anything else in the world, Tom wanted to fuck Mrs. Martin.

"Let's go back and sit in the living room," Mrs. Martin said, scooping up the rest of the six-pack. "I hate the kitchen!"

"Why?" Tom asked, when they were seated once again in the living room.

"Oh, it's always so hot and boring out there. No relief at all," Mrs. Martin said. She glanced meaningfully at Tom, but it went right over his head.

Mrs. Martin sighed. "Actually, I wouldn't mind cooking if it was for someone other than myself."

Tom thought to himself how his own mother never let him snack on anything when he came home from school, often ravenously hungry. "If you get bared," he offered, "you could cook something for me after school. I'll eat it!"

Mrs. Martin seemed to flush at the term, "eat it". She lowered her eyes before facing him directly after a big swill on her beer can.

"Do you like to eat?" she asked.

Tom laughed self-consciously. "I don't think I got to be this size by starving myself to death!"

Mrs. Martin looked at him long and lingeringly. "Yes," she mused. "I see what you mean."

Then she abruptly stood up and yawned. Tom stared at the way her dress hugged her shape, biding nothing of her beautiful form, her high big tits jutting into the front of her dress deliciously.

"Well," he said anxiously, "I guess I'll be off." She had turned then. "No," she said quickly, "don't go. Let's have another beer."

Tom looked at his watch. He had several other calls to make. If he ran through the other calls, he might be able to make it home in time for dinner.

"Well, maybe I have time for another beer," he said.

"Good," Mrs. Martin had said. "And call me Vickey, please."

"Okay, Vickey!" Tom had said loudly, emboldened by the beer and her closeness.

She had turned towards him then, touching him lightly on his biceps and the contact had sent a thrill right to his cock. "That's much better, isn't it?"

Then she was gone and Tom was left standing there, feeling the way her touch had seared into his arm and made his cock get larger and larger in his pants. He hoped that his hard-on wouldn't show when she came back, but a peculiar thing was happening in his brain. Somewhere, slowly it was dawning on him that should he get a hard-on that was visible to Vickey, she wouldn't mind at all.

With his second beer coursing into his blood stream, Tom began to perceive his whole situation as remarkably different from when he had first entered Mrs. Martin's house.

Mrs. Martin was now appearing closer to reality than before. Tom allowed himself to perceive how really pretty she was. How much superior her attitude towards him was, as opposed to the assholes in high school. Though Tom was a handsome dude, by any stretch of the imagination, he always seemed to be attracted to girls that wanted to wait until they were married to "do it".

Though part of Tom's brain had been conditioned to believe this was only right, an enormous part of him wanted to fuck! And now, not in some fictional future when he would be much, older. He had taken to whacking his meat off, alone in his room, his head dancing with visions of some very fuckable girl.

Now was different. Mm. Martin, Vickey, as he lad to force himself to call her, was a whole new ballgame. She obviously wasn't a virgin and she wasn't about to go through that whole Mickey Mouse number of wanting to save herself until she was married. She was married and Tom was glad.

Fuck her husband, what's his name? What kind of man would leave his wife for a strange part of the country that only a fool would go to? Tom felt his bitterness toward Mr. Martin grow in leaps and bounds. The more his guilt grew over the fact that he wanted to fuck Mrs. Martin, the deeper his hatred for the missing Mr. Martin grew.

"What's the matter with you?" Vickey suddenly asked. "You look funny!"

"Fuck you!" Tom shouted, suddenly coming out back to reality. He lunged towards Vickey as though to silence her, but he crushed her into his young strong arms instead.

Not a word of protest escaped from Vickey's lips. She returned his kiss as passionately as it was laid on her lips.

Tom could feel the parting of Vickey's lips beneath his, feel her tongue dart into his mouth, feel her saliva flow with his. He could also feel her prominent tits jutting into his chest, her nipples taut and perky, hard as nails.

He began grinding his pelvis slowly into hers, feeling her flesh give way beneath his pressure. He felt dizzy and powerful at the same time. He was like an animal at the kill. Nothing, but nothing could have distracted him from the joyous task he had set himself about. All he wanted was to feel his cock buried in a warm, tight cunt. To experience that which he had heard so much about and longed to know first-hand. Now when, it was so close to his grasp, he felt as though he was beginning to understand for the first time what life was all about.

He began tearing at Vickey's clothing. The fabric was all a hindrance to him and he wanted to do away with it, even if it meant hi destruction.

Vickey heard her dress being torn to shreds, and, though she couldn't afford another, she didn't give a shit.

All she cared about right now was getting fucked by this handsome stud.

Tom felt himself for the first time being overcome by a tidal wave. He felt as though he were drowning in a sea of lust and desire. He trusted those elements and asked only that they would have mercy an him. That's how vulnerable he felt.

And Vickey was the best.

Tom would always maintain a warm place in his heart for her generosity of spirit and patience. She made his introduction to the arts of fucking and sucking so wonderful, he became an insatiable cunt-lover and big fucker from then on. She sucked his prick. She nibbled and gulped and swallowed every bit of jizz he had to give her. She let him fuck her up her tight, lonely cunt and she let him bugger her asshole. She licked contentedly away at his own shitter and sucked his balls to his heart's content.

In short, Vickey was a delightful introduction to the arts of heterosexual love and Tom was never to duplicate his experience with her, nor did he want to!

And now, here with Sally, the memory of Vickey came flooding through his brain.

He had Sally on her stomach now, her tits pressed into the cool linoleum of the kitchen floor. Her tight little asshole was presented to his cock, which yearned to make its entrance into this highly prized tight area. With a few grunts and shoves, Tom's prick was inside her shitter to the balls, and Sally began bucking her his up and down, her buttocks slamming into his belly with undisguised glee.

"That's it, baby!" he kept saying with each new slam of his own cock into the tight grip of her asshole.

As for Sally, she could feel his cock worming its way into the deepest recess of her bowels and she wondered where it would all end. Sometimes, when the guy was unusually huge, Sally was under the impression his cock would pop out of her mouth and she could give him a blow-job at the same time she was fucking him. Of course that had never happened, and Sally was content to receive his cock up her ass at one point and down her throat at others.

Then Tom's body began shaking and shuddering with the effort of his orgasm. It seemed to Sally that they were on a roller coaster that was fast descending only to suddenly spurt uphill again and around dangerous curves that shook them both.

She could hear Tom's breath rasping in her ear.

"Oh, baby!" he gasped. "Oh, you fucking whore!"

And with that, Tom shot his load high up into Sally's asshole. They lay still for a while, and Sally could feel the excess sperm leaking out of her butt and running down her thighs. Then Tom rolled away from her. She didn't move right away, but then, when the cool of the floor turned to a sweaty puddle from her own perspiration, she, too, sat up.

Tom glanced at her sheepishly. Their encounter had been too hurried, too casual for him to feel relaxed around her. He tried to gauge what her feelings toward him were, but she averted her eyes and went into the downstairs bathroom. Tom hung around foolishly for a bit, wondering if she would return and invite him back, or what. Just as he was about to give up on her ever returning, she opened the door to the bathroom and re-entered the kitchen, a red towel around her nudity.

"Well," Tom said. "I guess I'll be going…" He let his voice trail off.

"Stop around and see me again when you're in the neighborhood," Sally invited.

She smiled at him, but it was not the kind of smile that invited any further intimacy. Tom left then, feeling good that he had gotten his rocks off so unexpectedly, but feeling oddly hollow at the same time. He would return, he vowed, and things would be different.