Fornications

(with Emma Jones)

I'm on the private beach near our summer house at the far end of Long Island. It's the area known as the Hamptons.

The sand is already hot at 10 in the morning. My husband, Phil, is still back in bed in the house about 100 yards off the shoreline, sleeping off a hangover from his four-too-many glasses of cabernet last night.

He made a fool of himself in front of our company, the Gallaghers and the Rickenbachs. Charlie Rickenbach, that asshole, divorced his wife of 28 years, Cheryl, last year and married a 24-year-old woman in the spring. He had the nerve to bring the fucking bitch – the best bimbo money could buy -- around last night to our party. The Gallaghers and the Rickenbachs had just arrived at their summer homes nearby, as Phil and I have.

The men will fly back to their offices from time to time during the next two months or so – Charlie, of course, in his private jet -- but the women will remain for most of that time. I'm not looking forward to it.

My husband drooled over the bimbo – I think her name is Brenda – during last night's get-together. After everyone left I told Phil I was pissed. I made a real scene and accused him of looking down her top numerous times, and grabbing her ass when they were in the kitchen together getting a plate of snacks that she had "volunteered" to help him with.

"Oh, I'll help you Phil," I think that cunt had said.

Phil was like a school boy in a candy store. The more the booze flowed, the bolder he got. Eventually he didn't even make a pretense of respectability and simply stared at that bimbo's cleavage and her ass as she walked.

I was surprised that Charlie didn't seem to be bothered by Phil's attention to his trophy wife. He just smiled and watched Phil gaze at his wife's ass. It seemed almost as if he had told Phil that it was alright. Well, maybe that's a bit of paranoia.

Janice Gallagher pulled me aside late in the evening and told me that she and her husband had seen Phil's roving eyes numerous times and that it was so out-of-character for him to behave like that.

"You poor dear," she had said, her head wagging. "It must be so embarrassing for you."

I could have sworn one side of her mouth was curled in a mocking grin. Maybe that was just more paranoia. Either way, I was devastated after she said that.

Maybe Phil hadn't made a fool of himself, maybe that fucker had made a fool of me.

Later, Phil wanted to dip his booze-fueled wick into my hole, but I told him to go fuck himself.

I laid there and watched while he popped his cork. I

have

always liked to watch him flail away at his flesh. I like to see the cream spray. If I'm horny, I'll suck it up off his stomach. I wasn't going to do that last night. It sprayed all right. It shot nearly up to his chin. He came a lot. There were gobs of spunk across his torso.

I was surprised he managed to cum at all after so much alcohol, but he must have been horny from having his nose up that bimbo's ass all night.

The longer we're married, and that's 20 years now, the more of an asshole he becomes. All that time I have never even looked at another man, although I love fucking, and I have been sorely tempted.

When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning while putting on my swimsuit, I smiled and murmured, "Not bad for nearly 45, Gloria." Sure my tits are getting a touch droopy, but they still fill my sweaters well enough to turn a few heads. And, hell, all that swimming has kept that great pair of legs as shapely as ever.

When I wear a mini I still catch young men turning to look back at me. Fuck it, one of these days I am going to teach Phil a lesson he won't forget. But I don't think I'd ever leave him. I don't think I

ever

could.

************

I'm still as mad as last night as I walk through the high grasses and between rises in the sand, between the dunes, if you will, before I lay down my backpack and spread my blanket on the beach, looking around. I am fairly secluded here. There's no one nearby. I see no one walking the beach.

I strip off my one-piece suit and lie naked on the blanket, then rub 30-block lotion into my skin. I like the slimy feel of it. My hand brushes against my cunt. I feel the charge, like electric, go through my body. I'm hornier than I realize after last night.

I should have made Phil suck me off before I came down to the beach. His tongue can work my clitoris pretty well. Maybe my husband lusting after young cunt makes me horny, despite my protestations. No, I can't let him think it was OK to ogle that bitch Brenda. In fact, it wasn't OK at all.

So why the fuck am I so horny? Why the fuck do I feel my crotch moisten just at the thought of it all? That's not very proper, and I

am

very proper.

I'm pretty well hidden here at this spot. If any neighbors wander around, they would be far enough away to not be able see that I am naked, or not care.

My fingers find their way into the moistness between my thighs. I begin to frig my clit, then pull my fingers away quickly and look around.

I can't masturbate openly because that would look obvious. What the fuck am I doing?

I know it wouldn't take long, just a couple minutes of fingering would do. Just a little round-and-round, then up-and-down. I just don't want to be caught doing that.

Lying naked is one thing, but getting caught with hands in the honey, well that's another. I can pull the spare blanket over me if necessary, but for now the warmth of the sun on my snatch is making me hornier than ever. I spread my legs, loving the ocean breeze flowing onto my pussy as I stroke it slowly and gently.

My clit loves the kiss of the sun and hardens quickly.

I lie on my stomach, one of my favorite positions for cumming, and put some towels under my head. I slide one hand down my belly, and continue fingering my slippery cunt lips. With the other, I squeeze one hard nipple, sending waves of pleasure down to my engorged clit. As I finger it, I shove my hips against my hand as if I was fucking it.

I feel totally wild in the sun and open air, and with eyes tightly shut I play with myself desperately, concentrating like mad on the fantasy of a big hard cock in my cunt. Some young stud hung like a horse pounding away at my opening, stretching it, slamming his meat into me over and over . But there's more: And all the time I fuck him my husband has to watch. My young lover tied my husband with duct tape into a chair and now Phil has to watch as the stud ravages me, the huge piston pleasuring my hole. My husband begs me to stop fucking another man, but I refuse and laugh at him. "I want to fornicate," I tell him and laugh. "He's going to shoot his load into me." Phil tries to turn his head away, but it is bound too tightly. I laugh some more, then respond vindictively: "Why don't you want to watch? I had to?" I'm just about cum. My whole body is ready to convulse.

A shadow crosses my face.

"Hi, Mrs. Duncan," a male voice says. I look up into the shadow and still my hand.

Squinting, I see it's Cheryl's son.

"Hi," another male voice says. I turn my head to the sound. I don't know the other boy, but I've seen him in the village with Cheryl's son. At the moment, I'm so surprised that I can't think of Cheryl's son's name. Both are wearing just swim trucks and sandals and carrying shirts slung over their shoulders.

I wonder how long they've been sitting there watching me, ogling my body while I pleasure myself in the sun. Judging by the bulges in their swim trunks, they may have been there awhile.

The boys, well that's what they are to me, are drinking from beer bottles and look a bit tipsy. It's awful early in the morning for that. I wonder if the breakfast beers will make them bold?

They are both about 20.

Cheryl's son is about 6 feet tall with brown, curly hair, a goatee and deep blue eyes. He's carrying a cooler by the straps. The cooler is bulging from what looks like several other beer bottles inside.

The other boy is a bit shorter with sandy hair, brown eyes, sideburns and a mustache. Both are good looking. Each wears their sunglasses on their head as they leer down at me. Each boy still has the thinness of adolescence, their abs show in their midsections and their thin muscles lack the heavier development of older men.

At that age, their metabolism makes them look sexy. They don't even need to work out. Their waists are thin and tight. So are their asses.

I'm old enough to be their mother. I can't believe I've let my eyes linger on their bodies for a few seconds, but since I am already turned on these boys would fit the bill.

No.

What the fuck am I thinking?

This is my friend's son.

I quickly reach for my suit, but the other boy stoops, picks it up and throws it about 10 yards away from us, staggering slightly and laughing foolishly.

"Cute," I say to him, wondering, what the hell?

Since they saw me working my pussy, what on earth must they be thinking of me? They stand there gazing down at my naked body, hard cocks outlined against their suits. I hold my legs together as tightly as I can, that way at least they can't see my front, my very moist and slippery snatch.

To my further dismay, the boys sit down, one on each side of me on the big double beach mat, pushing the mat into a pile on either side.

"Would you like some company, Mrs. Duncan?" Cheryl's son says in a slurred voice, breathing beer fumes into my face.

I suddenly remember his name. It's Rick. Of course, he uses a shortened form of his last name. I think his real name is Charlie, but he hates it. He doesn't want to be like his father.

"Rick, I, um..." I start to say.

"This is my pal, John," he continues, again sending me his raunchy breath, nearly gagging me, but also contributing to the heat in my crotch.

"You look awfully cute lying there, Mrs. Duncan," Rick says.

I'm pissed that he's calling me

Mrs

.

To my amazement, I snap, "For God's sake, call me Gloria."

As soon as I say it, I know it is the wrong thing.

"Sure, Gloria," comes the reply as Rick puts a hand on my right shoulder.

He holds the beer bottle in front of my face, in a gesture offering me a swig.

I know I shouldn't, but I take the bottle and drink deep and long, looking into his eyes. The bottle was about half-full when I got it. By the time I bring my face back down, it is empty. Rick pulls it from my lips with a popping sound. He throws the bottle toward the waves lapping at the shore. It sticks into the wet sand, nose down.

Rick laughs and turns back to me. He unzips the cooler, pulls out another bottle and twists off the top, taking a long drink from it. I watch his throat, fascinated as he swallows.

"Feel her silky skin," he says to his friend, John, who promptly does the same, rubbing my left shoulder. A quiver of excitement runs through me at their touch on my naked body. I try to get control back.

"Does your mother know that you drink, Rick?" I ask, using an old trick to stem the tide of his horniness.

"No, but if you don't tell her, I won't tell her about the naughty thing we saw you doing," he laughs raunchily. John laughs, too.

Another step toward a fucking I may regret.

My face goes scarlet and I put the towels to it, burying it, trying to hide the embarrassment.

Oh my God. I can just imagine the wagging tongues and sly glances in my direction when I shop in St. James.

"So it's a deal then?" queries Rick confidently.

I don't answer.

They seem to take my silence as surrender, for both slide their hands down my back onto my ass, caressing, fondling and squeezing the flesh. I am overwhelmed by a mixture of panic and lust. From a sitting position they peel off their trunks, and then they are lying on their sides, one on each side of me. I feel their hot, raunchy breaths and their hard cocks pressing against my hips.

I have a sinking feeling that it is too late for escape, and that I have lost control of the situation. I glance up and down the beach as the boys grope me, but as usual, on this part, it is deserted. I suddenly am very glad of that, as I realize my body is responding at full throttle to the erotic situation -- and stimulation.

I think this has gone too far and panic. I must stop them.

Then I think of Phil with his hand on that tart's ass. I remember how he shot his load so hard thinking about that fucking bimbo. At the moment, I don't care about Phil and his penchant for young cunt. Fuck it. It's my turn. Maybe I should develop a penchant for young cock.

I can't remember when I last felt so excited. My heart is thumping madly, and my clit is at the bursting point. I keep my eyes closed as, welcoming my lack of objection, the boys lay me back. My large breasts roll slightly towards my armpits. But they are eagerly pounced on. Hands knead and fondle, and my blood surges from the sensations. Then both nipples are sucked greedily, and a groan of delight is forced from me. This further encourages the young men who so eagerly seem to want my older body.

The beer warms my empty stomach. I grab Rick's bottle and drink from it, taking in the beer and whatever saliva he has left behind in a long gulp. It seems to change my attitude. I slam the bottle back down into the sand.

I hear Rick saying, "I told you she was a slut. You should see her prick-teasing in her low cut blouses and short skirts. Let's see how many times we can make her cum, then she might want our cocks instead of her old man's."

Although this was meant to be insulting, I am thrilled to know that at my age I could still turn on young men by the way I dress. After Phil's behavior last night, I welcome a boost to my confidence. And the words make me even hornier, if that is possible.

The boys pick me up from the mat and I get a glimpse over the large grass-covered dunes back toward the house. Oh, shit, I think, what if Phil sees me? What if he's awakened and looking out the window this way to the beach?

As they pull me to my feet, my eyes are drawn to their veiny stiff cocks and their sagging hairy balls. I decide to say nothing at this stage, and act the helpless woman in their power, although my pussy is aching to enclose those magnificent cocks. The boys rearrange the mat, spreading it and my towels over the hot sand and set me down naked. I know they are both young and strong and could hold me here and have their way with me. If I decide to run away, would they let me go or chase me, throw me down on the sand and force me to accommodate their youthful sexual energy? A part of me wants them to force me. A part of me wants to scream for help. Will they ravage me or be gentle? Should I fight them, or spread my legs and welcome their youthful hardness? Should I allow these studs to make me violate my wedding vows? To make those vows void?

They kneel beside me, their erections bobbing urgently. The cocks are so hard that they are practically flat against their firm, young bellies as they lay next to me. As the lads gloat over my body, Rick looks into my eyes with a sadistic glint. God, I thought, I must have pissed this guy off somehow.

"Now, Gloria" he says, emphasizing the name. "You are going to get the fucking of your life."

I sense that he wants to humiliate me. I take the bottle out of the sand and take another hit on it. It goes straight to my brain, dizzying me a bit, but giving me the courage to continue.

"Get on your hands and knees like the old whore you are," he commands. As I obey, they stand before me.

"Take our cocks in your hands."

As I do, I know I had forgotten just how really hard a young cock can be. An electric charge runs through me straight to my cunt at the thrill of the hot throbbing rods in my hands. The heads look as if they were both circumcised, although I can see that they are not. The veins are blue and raised and stand out. I shiver in anticipation of these rock hard dongs filling my slippery snatch.

"Now suck our cocks, Gloria, one at a time," Rick says, sarcastically emphasizing my name. I close my mouth round the head of Rick's quivering manhood. It feels so big and hard compared to Phil's. I slip the tip of my tongue into his piss/cum hole. I find some fluid there and siphon it out. I suck the shaft deep into my mouth until I feel the head stick into my throat. I gag briefly, but control the reflex.

After a few more slurps on Rick's stalk, I switch to John, and so on, moving my mouth from one to the other. Deep throating each a time or two, I let them feel me gag a bit, then pull their cocks out.

The switching is prolonging their pleasure, I realize. They seem experienced for their age. But that was explained, when John says, "She is nearly as good as Beth at Freddy's."

Freddy's is a massage parlor just outside of town. Typical rich kids, I thought, able to afford whores at their age. My jaw is aching, and I know that they are nearly ready to cum, so I stop.

"Let's tag-team her and see if she cums first," John says.

They push me onto my hands and knees and kneel behind me. I look around to see Rick's eyes concentrate as he aims his prick at my hole. They both finger me thoroughly for a minute until I am streaming with juices. That surprises the boys. I suppose the whores don't get turned on as much.

"Look at that dripping snatch," mutters John. "What a horny cunt she is."

I know I am still pretty tight for my age, for I use a standard-size dildo when Phil is drunk, as usual, and it fits nice and snug. Rick rubs the magnificent head of his cock up and down my gash, stopping to rub it into my clit for a moment. Then he pushes it against my outer lips and it feels as big and hard as my dildo. My ring resists for an instant, then yields to his pressure, and I feel his thick stalk enter me. Rick grips my hips, and with a thrust and a grunt, fills me completely, stretching the canal wide open.

I turn my head back to face the sand dune.

Rick's cock is a good fit.

I drop to my forearms, and my hair trails on the mat as Rick reams me, starting a steady motion. I feel drops of his sweat on my back and some of my own sweat dribbles down my nose onto the mat. In what seems too short a time, he pulls out. I must be gaping nicely now, for John enters me smoothly. I was right about them being experienced. They swap several times, each plunging the depths of my cunt, cutting off the play just before they are ready to cum. I had never been fucked for so long in my life, by any cock, never mind these two young ones. My head is swimming from the sex and the beer, and my body is just one big pleasure zone. In that doggy position they pinch and twist my nipples as they fuck me. I float on the edge of cumming for God knows how long. Rick has been fingering my clit nicely on one of his turns, and as John enters me yet again, his finger touches it.

It all becomes too much for me. I am not really expecting it. The orgasm starts at the root of my clit and bubbles through my cunt and belly. With a series of moans, I feel my arms give way, and I slump forward onto my face. But John throws his arms under my waist, pulling me into him, keeping me on my knees. As my cunt walls spasm around his cock, he bursts into a frenzied final pounding – balls slapping my upper thighs, hands gripping my hips and head thrown back in ecstasy.

He freezes, then I feel his stalk pulsing in my quim as it empties its precious load of man-seed into me. John's hard-on fires shot-after-shot of jizz deep into my steaming, twitching hole, emptying the contents of his balls into a cunt old enough to be his mother's. The image of the young cock emptying its juice into my older twat makes me feel deliciously wicked.

I turn to look at him as my orgasm subsides. Rick is watching, sitting on his ass on a towel, sucking on a beer bottle using one hand and pumping his erection with another. A big smile is on his face.