American Mom

Francine Smith's skin glistened in the harsh light of the office as she gripped the oaken desk with her manicured hands, panting and sweating.

She was perched upon a pair of four inch tall black platform heels, wearing only a matching black garter belt and stockings. The sexy, tall heels lifted her rounded ass and highlighted her strong thighs.

Her long blonde mane clung to her sweaty back and face as she looked over her shoulder at her husband, Stan. Fully clothed in a dress suit, minus his slacks, he gripped his hot wife's bare hips tightly, ramming his cock into her with a primitive passion, his tie flapping madly from side to side as they fucked like wild animals in his office at the Central Intelligence Agency.

Francine's firm, melon sized tits were squashed against his warm oak desk; the swell of her boobs flowing from beneath her. She flexed her legs, pushing back against her husband's invading cock as she threw her head back around and moaned loudly into the air, "FUCK ME;FUCK THAT PUSSY HARDER GOD DAMNIT!"

Sitting in chairs watching the intense action were Stan's boss, Avery Bullock and Stan's co-worker agent Duper. "Better do as she says Smith!" Francine heard Bullock declare in his English accent. "Better fuck that pussy harder."

Stan smiled as he looked down at his cock, shining with his wife's wetness. "Yes Sir!" He slapped her ass with a loud crack as he continued to pump into her, again and again in front of his boss and coworker.

"Ooooohhh." Francine cooed as she looked back over her shoulder at her husband, puckering her sensual lips at him in a playful kiss. She looked over to Bullock and Duper, her bubbly ass obscenely jiggling each time her husband's hand or pelvis slapped loudly against her flesh.

"I can't believe he's fucking his wife in his office!" Francine heard Duper say as he aimed his cell phone camera at her smiling face. *FLASH* She broke her stare from her admiring watchers and pushed her upper body up from the desk, flinging her hair onto her back again.

"And even better, she asked us to watch." replied Bullock as he admired her heavy tits lewdly swaying and jiggling between her arms as she humped back frantically against her husband's cock.

Francine held her breath and smiled as she saw Deputy Director Bullock stand up and approach the front of her husband's desk. As the distinguished looking older man reached for his zipper and worked it down, Francine sensuously ran the tip of her tongue around her beautifully painted lips, never once breaking her provocative rhythm.

Her husband continued to pound her pussy from behind while her eyes focused in a devious manner on the monster cock that Bullock unfurled from his slacks. He held the biggest cock the sexy mother of two had ever seen...well almost the biggest. That honor fell to her son Steve several weeks ago. The sheer weight of Bullock's dick landed on the desk top with an audible thud.

Bullock grabbed a handful of the back of Francine's hair and held her head still while the rest of her body shuddered against her husband's onslaught. "Do you mind Smith?" she heard him request, while she stared intently at the large bulbous head of his cock, not three inches from her now open mouth.

"By all means Sir. Be my guest." Stan replied, continuing the assault on her wet pussy as Francine closed her eyes and opened her mouth, invitingly laying her tongue flat. As she eagerly waited for her husband's boss to violate her mouth with his hard, hot cock, her mind raced back to when her exciting sexual awakening began just a little over six weeks earlier.

Six short weeks ago, Francine Smith was just your normal, everyday American cartoon housewife. The beautiful thirty eight year old All-American blonde and her husband Stan has been married for the past twenty years, living in Langley Falls Virginia with their two children, daughter Haley, and son Steve.

Daughter Haley is a typically rebellious nineteen year old free spirit and community college dropout, all the way to her bandana head band, peace symbol necklace and bell bottom jeans. Not as beautiful or as shapely as her mother, Haley has certain skills that have made it possible for her to find herself in the arms of men on a regular basis.

The real apple of Francine Smith's eye is her son, high school junior Steve Smith. Rail thin, and far from athletic, he is an underachieving nerd. Steve actually had yet to fully reach his nerd potential. Science and school in general are not his strong suit, as he struggles to maintain a C average. As a member of the school Audio Visual team and the Photography Club Steve has an artistic side that he tries to develop.

Then there are the hidden members of the household, Roger and Klaus.

Klaus is a former East German ski jumper and spy whose brain was transferred into the body of a goldfish by the CIA years ago. If Klaus had anything other than a goldfish penis it would be hard all the time due to his obsession with wanting to fuck Francine.

Roger wants to fuck Francine too, along with everyone else. Male, female, dog whatever, Roger is game. Oh, and Roger is the only Alien who crash landed at Roswell New Mexico in 1947 to survive and escape.

There is more than meets the eye with Francine as well. On the surface Francine Smith is a mixture of June Cleaver and Carol Brady, with a touch of Rosanne Barr's catty attitude thrown in occasionally for good measure. She loves to cook, but doesn't cook well, at least according to her sometimes mean spirited family if you listen to their complaints.

Wearing pink dresses every day, aprons in the kitchen, sensible dress shoes, pretty gold pendants around her neck and a designer white bracelet around her wrist, Francine Smith looks like the prototype for a storybook mother.

But the beautiful bottle blonde wife has another side...a perverted side...a side her husband knew nothing of...her brunette side.

Yes, Francine Smith is a complex person. Living a pure, proper, and bland, socially acceptable life as the wife of a CIA agent, she has lived for twenty years with demons simmering just below the surface, like the roots of her brown hair. Her socially acceptable lifestyle of today conflicts with her past life as a wild child in her high school and college days. Long gone are the days of shop lifting, snorting cocaine and smoking pot, driving drunk, and fucking strange men in theaters or the booths of seedy clubs.

Before she met Stan, Francine spent countless nights in drunken, drug fueled orgies with random men and eighties musicians such as Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top and Adam Ant after their concerts. She was involved in high stakes street racing for large amounts of cash. She lost her virginity, not unwillingly, to a group of angry construction workers when she was a freshman in high school.

Even today those demons try to make their way to the surface. Although Francine Smith is the proper wife of a respected CIA agent and the loving mother of two teens, she steals $50 of the family grocery budget every week to buy pot and pills, partaking without her husband's knowledge. She is a woman who would never give in again to her past life of decadence ...knowingly.

Yes, just a normal, everyday American housewife and her family.