She was on her belly, naked. Her bottom was in the air as her husband pounded into her from behind. The feeling was sweaty, rich and thoroughly exquisite. It was just short of painful. Her fingers drummed her clitoris. She moaned loudly, inspiring her husband to redouble his efforts. Sweat drizzled from his brow. He gripped her hips roughly. It was then that he began to speak.
"Are you enjoying this?"
"Yes," she hissed sharply.
"You love to fuck, don't you?" he asked almost under his breath.
"Yes," she said, moaning at the same time.
"Are you ready to cum?"
"Almost," she gasped as she spoke, "Oh, God, it's so delicious. I don't want it to be over just yet."
"You love cock, don't you?"
"Yes, ohhhh, God!" She quickly removed her fingers from between her legs to delay her imminent orgasm.
He slowed and lengthened his strokes, seeing that she was so close. Her orgasm would inevitably trigger his, and he wanted to prolong this encounter even as did his wife. She loved it when he talked dirty to her, and he loved the effect it had on her. Carefully chosen words would send her into a writhing, squealing frenzy. Her long, low moans and out-of-control movements were to him as a decadent dessert to be savored. As he continued to fuck her with long, painfully slow strokes, he contemplated the new territory he planned to explore with his words. The thoughts made him shudder.
"You really, really love cock, don't you?" he asked as he slid into her deeply.
"Ohhhh," she emitted a high-pitched squeal, "Yes! Yes, I love it! Oh, God, I can't hardly stand this!"
"Don't touch yourself."
"I'm not," she whispered breathlessly.
"Want to know what I'm thinking?"
"Mmm Hmmm," she responded.
"I'm thinking about what you'd look like with a cock in your mouth right now."
Her orgasm hit her like a blunt instrument in her solar plexus. "Unnghh!" she grunted, writhing, spasming, her entire body stiffening completely out of her control. Wave after wave after wave of orgasm rolled over her being with no seeming end in sight.
The wild, steaming contractions of his wife's vagina, coupled with the orgasmic contortions of her body sent her husband into his own climax. His thick, sticky seed spurted into her. His head jerked back, his spine flexed concave, his jaw tensed and clenched. From deep in his throat came a long, gutteral grunt that ended with a satisfying sigh as the spasms of orgasm began to subside.
Both wife and husband slid softly to the bed and into a quiet, gentle embrace.
Her name was Cindy. She cuddled and kissed her husband lightly. She loved him very much, and sex with him was always lots of fun. She was pretty, more than a little beautiful. She had big, bedroomy hazel eyes and a wide, generous mouth. Her skin was peachy, soft and silky, her breasts, while not necessarily huge, were firm and round, with perfectly pink nipples. Her figure was sweetly voluptuous, a classic hourglass. Although her bottom was wide and plump, perfectly formed, and creamy. Cindy was delectable and her husband, Michael, could never get enough of her.
Michael was average, average size, average height, average weight. He was both talented and enthusiastic in bed. Best of all, Michael was dangerous, unpredictable, and was about to do something very, very different.
"You're bad!" said Cindy. She screwed up her pretty face in a mock frown and playfully slapped her husband, who ducked as he laughed.
"You like bad, don't you?" he said.
"You know I do. You heard me come, didn't you?" she slapped him again, "But you're still bad!"
Cindy and Michael snuggled a few minutes longer, then fell asleep.
Richard Dean was one of Michael's best friends. Like Michael, he was in the "generally average" category, but tended to drift from one girlfriend to another. None of Richie's relationships lasted long, and there were usually long gaps between them. Richie was currently mired in the midst of one of those gaps.
"Damn, Michael," said Richie over coffee in the student union, "I'm so backed up I can hardly stand it! It sucks when you're right hand is your best friend."
Michael laughed, "Why don't you go out and get yourself a girlfriend, buddy? There are tons of girls all over campus."
Richie rolled his eyes, "Sure, easy for you to say. You get laid every night. I have to go through all that awkward, 'getting to know you' business. It's not easy, man. In fact, it's nerve-wracking. I hate dates, and I hate rejection, and I really hate trying to break it off with some chick who's whack or something like that. If I had any damn money I'd just line up a regular hooker to keep the pipes cleaned out, you know?"
It was Michael's turn to roll his eyes, "Richie, Richie, Richie. With a hooker you get the 'Me love you long time, but I eat apple while I fuck you and no extra charge for sexually transmitted disease, big boy'"
"Life sucks and then you die," Richie glanced down at his palm, "At least I got you, my friend."
Michael cruised through his afternoon classes on auto-pilot, thinking that Richie might be the perfect person to help fulfill his fantasy. Cindy liked Richie. He made her laugh with his endless, self-deprecating patter. Michael was sure, though, that Cindy had probably never thought about Richie in any kind of sexual way. Michael could change that. In fact, that would be part of the fun.
Classes complete for the day, Michael headed off to his work-study job at the college. He served as an administrative assistant for the College of Nursing. It was a Friday, and most of the faculty had already left for the weekend. The only faculty member left in the offices was Mr. Kebler. He taught the hard sciences, biology, physics, pharmacology. Mr. Kebler was pretty cool. A few days before he had been chatting with Michael as Michael stored some older files in the department's storage closet. As they chatted, Kebler had shifted some boxes to help Michael find room for the filing boxes being added to storage. The box Kebler was holding was filled with all manner of medical detritus, but Kebler pulled out one particular item he seemed to find of particular interest.
"Well, now, check this out," Kebler held up a tangle of straps with foam padding, velcro strips and plastic clips attached, "Something each and very budding dominatrix can use in the most practical terms...four-point restraints...although this piece, knotted up as it is, is just a one-pointer."
They had laughed and made a few more crude jokes about the odd item in the box, which would soon end in the school dumpster.
Michael was working on a revision of an in-house evaluation form for students' clinical performance as Mr. Kebler left his office for the day. Noticing that he and Michael were alone in the office, Kebler stopped to tell Michael a quick joke.
"A little boy asked his grandpa how many different kinds of breasts there were. His old grandpa sighed and told the boy that there were only three types of breasts. 'First,' the old man said, 'there are melons. You find those on young women. They're round, firm and fresh. As a women gets older those melons turn into pears. They're not quite as round or firm, but they are ripe and delicious. And then there are onion breasts.' The little boy asked what his grandpa meant by onion breasts. He understood about the melons and the pears, but the onions had him confused. His grandpa sighed again and said, 'Onion breasts are found on old ladies. They call 'em onion breasts because, when an old woman takes off her bra you can't help but cry.'"
Both men laughed, and then Kebler took his leave. This was what Michael had been waiting for. He had purposely kept the box of "junk" until he could retrieve the restraints. It took him several minutes, but Michael found all four pieces to the set and put them in his back pack. He wrapped up his work for the day, dropped the box and its remaining contents in the school dumpster and headed for home.
Dinner was finished and Cindy and Michael cleared the table. Michael stepped up behind his luscious little wife and, wrapping his arms around her, slid his hands up and squeezed her breasts, which were definitely melons. Her nipples hardened with the squeezing. Then Michael ran his hands down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist and thighs. He brought his hands together at the "v" of her anatomy, where her thighs and belly met. He could feel the heat of her sex beneath his hand.
"I don't think you want to watch TV, do you?" she asked in a low, almost husky voice.
"No," Michael answered and, with that, he pressed his hand a little deeper between Cindy's legs. She moaned in response.
"Let's go in the bedroom," Cindy suggested.
As they stepped through their bedroom door, Michael took Cindy in his arms and kissed her deeply. Their tongues rolled over one another and Cindy whimpered into his mouth.
"Why don't you put on one of your more interesting outfits?" asked Michael.
"Do you have a preference?"
"Surprise me."
With that, Cindy rummaged surreptitiously in her lingerie drawer, then disappeared into the bathroom. Knowing he had a few minutes before she would emerge, Michael quickly strapped the four-point restraints in place on the four edges of the bed. No sooner had he finished with that task and dimmed the lights in their bedroom than Cindy came gliding out of the bathroom wearing a red, see-through bra, red lace panties and red fishnet stockings. Michael's cock swelled and hardened.
He pulled Cindy onto the bed and kissed her deeply. His hands roamed all over her body as she moaned and pressed against him. Michael pulled her over on top of him and enjoyed her grinding against him, her pelvis pressing deliciously against his raging hard-on. They kissed and writhed against each other for a time, then Michael began to draw Cindy's body up the length of his until her knees were placed on either side of his head. He pulled the crotch of the tiny red panties aside and began to lick her swollen sex. This elicited a low, growling moan of ecstasy from deep within Cindy. Michael continued to suck and lick his dripping, groaning, squirming wife until her breathing became shallow and labored. Her hunching against his mouth quickened, signalling that she was dangerously close to orgasm, and Michael wanted to delay this for some time. He whipped her body off his and onto her back.
"Roll over," he whispered into her ear.
