Mrs Womple Beds Her Husband

In all of her 45 years, Mrs Womple had known many lovers.

They had all varied in size and shape. They had all differed in enthusiasm, speed and vigour of their love making. However, there is one point which rather confused Mrs Womple, they all used fabric softener (it was the only similarity she could link to all of her many lovers).

With most of her lovers, she left feeling quite content. However, she had yet to feel the brilliance of her husband in any other man but he. It was a depressing thought that the only man who could satisfy and fulfil her properly was her very own husband whom she had not bedded these last 12 years!

Mr Womple was keen on all sports and the like. He spent his days at work, his afternoons in the pub and the nights in the beds of other women. His reputation alone had been the biggest influence on keeping him from his marital bed these 12 years. In deed, at times, Mr Womple quite forgot that he had a wife.

He recalls times, many of them, to his mates over a few beers. His favourite: 2 young blonde teenagers (he guessed they were about 19) approached him. They had heard of his reputation and wanted to test the rumour. Of course Mr Womple could not refuse. And so he took the two girls’ home where the three satisfied each other. They were very pleased with the result.

The two girls had never had fulfilled or pleasured in such a way. That big dick sliding so fluidly in and out of their screaming cunts. That long hard cock. The taste of his cum was sweet as sugar, and saltier than the sea. No man could compete Mr Womple was confident of this, he made sure of it. He had a pattern. He kissed their lips as they stripped. He kissed their necks, their breasts, their nipples in particular. He moved down… His tongue was a warrior darting in and out. The other girls were greedy; they took his large hard cock into their mouths, rubbing his balls and their own cunt alternatively.

He took his time with each girl. He fucked them both till they begged that they could take no more. But only minutes after, they were begging for his cock. Mr Womple knew everything there was to know about women…

But little did Mr Womple know that on this same night Mrs Womple looked through the keyhole, a finger inside her and dreaming of inclusion in Mr Womple’s challenge.

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

It was a few months after this very event that Mrs Womple met up with an old school friend. The woman was now a strange gypsy lady who happened to be buying a scotch from the same store that our desperate heroine used so often.

Mrs Womple and the Gypsy became close, and as time grew, so did the confidences between the ladies. One day Mrs Womple told her friend about her situation. The Gypsy laughed:

“Oh my dear friend. Let me give you a gift. One that I hope will help you solve your problems.”

The Gypsy opened a dusty cupboard and pulled out a small box of pills. She handed it over to Mrs Womple. “Now, dissolve on of these into your husbands drink. When he takes but few sips he shall find the maker of the drink intoxicating.”

Mrs Womple left her friend very happy. She would get her husband into bed tonight, and she would have him begging for more.

When she got home she made that drink and was about to serve it to her husband. Unfortunately, the doorbell rang.

It was two of Mr Womple’s friends. One of them took the drink from her hand. He took a sip before his friend took it from him. The three sat around for a few minutes, laughing and drinking and Mrs Womple cursing her bad luck returned to the kitchen.

Within the half-hour the two men opened the kitchen door.

“Ma’am” They said. “Let us help you prepare dinner”

“I like to lick the bowl…” Said one as he came closer.

Mrs Womple tried to refuse, but well… he already had his tongue sliding inside her cunt and the other had moved much too quickly as well.

“I believe you like to lick the spoon.” Said he putting his dick into her mouth.

Now Mrs Womple definitely tried to refuse, but with the two bodies making their way around to pleasure her… she well she joined in:

“Pound your meats into me, boys.”

She lifted her skirt and the two found a new little hole, where they began to move at a thousand miles a minute. In and out they plummeted. Deeper, faster, stronger till their meat’s were well tenderised. Unfortunately, Mrs Womple was left without any cream of her own. And being the typical men they were they made her clean up their mess. But in cleaning, they were rejuvenated and Mrs Womple ended up getting that cream of her own.

Mrs Womple went the next day to her Gypsy.

***********

“I have a cream,” said the Gypsy taking a small container out of that dusty cupboard. The Gypsy opened the container and rubbed a small amount on Mrs Womple’s ear.

Mrs Womple felt haziness cloud her eyes lust was all she could see. She looked out at the gypsy and saw her pleasant green eyes and the soft creaminess of her skin.

Mrs Womple was finding it difficult not to lick and touch every inch of the Gypsy’s body, but she accomplished it by concentrating on one particular spot, which she found rather tasty.

The Gypsy moaned feeling the pleasure of Mrs Womple’s tongue and her hands running up and down her body. Mrs Womple played hide-and-seek with her finger. She glided it into a small patch of fur. The finger became a great explorer as it ventured deep and deeper still into a long wet tunnel. The finger came to a waterfall and it stayed there and felt herself get washed with the juices of her labour.

The Gypsy was very pleased and returned the favour. The two women laughed a played all afternoon.

That night Mrs Womple returned to her husband with this tub of cream. She saw her husband on the couch and immediately put some cream on her hands. And just as she got close enough, the doorbell rang.

“Telegram” She heard on the other side of the door.

She opened the door, (which is a difficult thing to do with cream on.) and took the pen that the young 20 looking post-man handed to her. However, as she took the pen, some cream transferred to his hand. The young man dropped the telegram. He felt himself to be transfixed with Mrs Womple’s breasts and he immediately dived into them, tearing her dress down to the floor.

The cream spread on Mrs Womple’s and was now taking effect and she began shredding the clothes off the postman.

Mr Womple didn’t budge an inch as his wife and the postman fondled and kissed each other. He didn’t seem to notice his wife on her knees taking the large dick into her mouth. Nor did he seem to mind the postman pushing his wife against the door and fucking the s**t out of her… maybe he never heard Mrs Womples moans and screams of pleasure? He was probably deaf as she begged the postman not to stop.

Mrs Womple noticed! The boy was big for his age. She had greedily took him into her mouth and loved that dick, rubbing his balls, stroking them softly. Then when he placed her against that door: she took him in and was pleased with the power of his ride.

As the two sat smoking a cigarette each, Mr Womple stood up from his spot on the couch and leaned in the direction of his wife.

“Are you finished?” He asked, “I was thinking about dinner.”

Mrs Womple, furious slammed the door and went into her bedroom, with the postman in hot pursuit (for he touched the door handle to leave and found the erection in his pants once more).

“Make your own!” She screamed.

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

The following day Mrs Womple went back to her friend the Gypsy.

“I don’t know what to do.” She cried.

The Gypsy took her into her embrace. “There is only one more thing I have left. But they are very dangerous.

“Please, Let me have them. I will do anything… anything at all” Mrs Womple pleaded.

“Well, OK. “ The Gypsy sighed as she took out a small gold box out of that now well used and no longer dusty cupboard. “In here are chocolates. They will make you irresistible. And it is you who eat them. Only you must not eat more than two. It is such a gamble I beg you, be satisfied with the postman. It is a safer game.”

“That could never be. I want more…” Said Mrs Womple.

She took the chocolates and left. And when she got home she ate her first chocolate and dressed in her sexiest outfit and lay back on the bed to wait. Out of boredom, she ate another chocolate… then another.

Mr Womple returned home to the strange sight of his wife rolling on the bed eating chocolates and as she did the grey of her hair darkened, and the wrinkles in her face got tighter, and those bulges began to dissolve…

Mr Womple had never seen his wife look so beautiful, so sexy. He had never wanted his wife so much. And he bent down and fed his wife chocolates, as he kissed her firm breasts and kissed her navel.

That night Mr Womple gave as good as he got. For the first time he fell in lust with his wife. The air between them was electric as they made love all night. Orgasm after orgasm they continued long into the hour of dawn. Their bodies never leaving each other for a moment. The only time they slowed was for Mr Womple to feed his wife a chocolate.

That morning, after hours upon hours of endless lovemaking, husband and wife drifted into sleep. Though ones sleep was much deeper than the other. Mrs Womlple passed into another world and she did it with a smile on her face and her husband’s cock in her cunt.

Two weeks following Mr Womple, still mourning his wife, received a strange call from a woman claiming to be friends with Mrs Womple.

Mr Womple confided in this friend who relaxed him with a massage with a cream, that made a littler Womple stand on end. The Gypsy, who later became the new Mrs Womple was very pleased with the result. As lust clouded their eyes, the Gypsy took Mr Womple's little man into her mouth and loved it for all that it was worth. It was worth quite a lot, as the Gypsy was soon to discover for it was the largest dick she had ever seen. She now knew why Mrs Womple wanted to fuck him and only him.

The Gypsy was a powerful lover. She took more of him in her mouth as he cried for his wife, but soon it was not the old Mrs Womple he cried for but the new. And Mr Womple, with a new discovery that the best sex was with a wife who would know all his patterns and ask for more did just that. She was the biggest challenge, and had the breasts to match.

"Don't stop" she cried. And he was forced to go on with out cumming.

"Fuck me as hard as you can"

And so he strove deeper and deeper into her. Making her pleasure his own. The powerful juices of love swirled inside their veins as Mr Womples large cock pulsed and pushed and pumped until they both shook with pleasure.

As they came he asked her to be his wife. And with that the Gypsy and Mr Womple fucked happily ever after…