This is a story about Gina and Ron. Ron is Gina's husband and plays a supporting role in this story. Not surprisingly, Gina has a strong sex drive, much stronger than Ron's, so we introduce Gina's son, Michael. It's not our intention to downplay Ron's contribution to Gina's sex life, but he was her husband, and a husband's function is not only to provide stud service for a wife. Without a husband you don't have a marriage. Michael, 19, will play an active role in our narrative, so be patient.
As luck would have it, Ron is stuck in Tokyo, not being allowed to leave the country. Air travel has almost been suspended. The good news is, her son Michael is available, and only too anxious to fill his Mom's immediate needs. Like most young men, he kept in shape. He played tight end on Cal's football team. The San Francisco 49'ers were his favorite team.
Women are in their sexual prime during their 30' and 40's. Moreover, women are able to enjoy sex well into their 80's, due to a long exponential decay. The flip side is, the male libido diminishes from his teens until when he's in his fifties. This appears to be a cruel joke perpetrated by nature, but if all a man wants to do is fuck for 50 or 60 years, he wouldn't get much accomplished in life, now would he?
That was the situation with Ron. He met Gina at the Harvard Club. Situated along the Charles River in Cambridge, the Harvard Club had monthly dances for MBA types and of course Gina wanted to nab herself an MBA. Ron was good looking, he was well dressed, could hold an intelligent conversation, and was not covered in tattoos. That in itself made him stand out from the crowd.
Gina was an extrovert, with a good figure and she loved to cook. This is important because we don't intend to portray Gina as a simple minded slut. On their first date, Gina invited him to her home for a home cooked dinner. That exposed Ron to Gina's mother who had to read his palm first. Gina's mom did astrological charts as well, and she used these charts to filter out Gina's potential suitors.
Being athletic and graceful, Gina had studied ballet and had the legs and solid ass of a dancer. Ron was much taken by her personality; Gina was impressed by his letting her talk. In short, Ron didn't bore her to death by talking about himself and his job. Ron was a scientist not an MBA. When Ron did speak about his work, Gina didn't understand what the hell he was talking about.
They got married, and Gina was surprised by first, her own voracious sexual appetite, and second by Ron's love for eating pussy. He was fascinated by a woman's vagina -- its appearance, and its functionality. He would get down on his elbows and tell Gina stories to turn her on. You could call it pillow talk. While he was down there between her legs, he'd watch her labia swell, and open, and then viscous liquid pumped itself out and down her thighs. It was amazing to him. When her clit appeared from under its hood, he blew on it, touched it tentatively, and encouraged by her moaning he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. It was then that he applied his lips to her vulva and literally worshipped at her temple of Venus.
Ron literally fell in love with Gina's pussy and spent hours using his mouth on her, driving her to the point of screaming and begging him to stop. He ate Gina for hours at a time, causing her to experience hysterical climaxes until she passed out. Gina was multi-orgasmic but there was a limit to what her heart could endure.
No one ate pussy better than Ron, which was surprising. He seemed too cerebral and never asked her to suck his cock like other men did. Of course, most other guys were high school dropouts and had such low self esteem that only a cocksucker could temporarily restore their self worth. A guy with a PhD doesn't ask a woman to suck his cock.
Ron did not propose to Gina. Gina proposed to him, because it's not every day you meet a guy who loves to eat pussy. And in the first year they were married, it was like heaven for Gina. They had to call 911 once because Ron thought Gina had a heart attack. After the first year the novelty of Gina's pussy began to wear off, and Ron had to come up with more creative ways to get her off. He hired male escorts for Gina, not so much to take her out, but to fuck her. She went along with the arrangement for a few weeks, but those guys were ordinary big dicks -- and expensive -- hustlers. They did it for the money and didn't give a shit about Gina. She felt cheap and unappreciated.
Their marriage was good, he never thought of cheating on her. She was a devoted wife, and cooked wonderful meals, and they had predictable sex -- nothing kinky, no swapping with other couples, and they didn't watch porn together. They just enjoyed each other.
After two years of marriage, Michael was born. He weighed over nine pounds at birth and the delivery nurse joked about Michael becoming a football player. He was a beautiful baby, not ugly like some babies.
Ron's work took up more of his time, as he moved up the corporate ladder, and Gina was left with mixed emotions. Sure it was great for Ron, but she found herself alone a lot. Gina's sex drive was getting stronger and she either had to get a hobby or spend more time toying with her pussy. She decided to take up photography.
She attended a university class on photography, and bought herself a mid-level Nikon. The emphasis was on seeing and Gina noticed things she never saw before. Like homeless people, and cops busting black people over the head with batons, and tattooed hookers standing on street corners. She took pictures of dog shit and dumpsters and alcoholics sitting in dark doorways. She didn't need a darkroom because she was shooting only digital. She asked her friend Rebecca to pose for her and all Rebecca wanted was someone to lick her pussy. Photography was depressing.
From Ron's perspective, he could have taken a high paying manager's position but decided to take a cut in salary and travel all over the world. He knew his wife would find a solution to satisfying her insatiable need for hot sex. Initially Gina felt Ron could get it up if he wanted to. She'd always accuse him 'who are you saving it for???' To many of you, this may sound familiar.
To Ron, it wasn't love making anymore. There was no kissing, no foreplay. She'd just lay back, spread her legs and tell him she was horny. Sometimes, Ron stuck his finger down his throat and told her he was feeling nauseous; it must have been something he ate, and he immediately rushed to the bathroom and vomited. He barely made it on time.
When this story begins, Ron was away on a trip to Japan. Ron seemed to be traveling all the time. From Texas, he 'd go to a foundry in Australia, then meet with people in Osaka. They lived in Silicon Valley in California. As the wife of a semiconductor engineer, she knew there would be nights like this --nights of longing, and sexual hunger.
It had been four weeks since that big, hard cock had burrowed inside her pussy and filled her with his warm cum. Gina's cunt was throbbing. "Oh ... Ron," she whispered softly as she spread her long, shapely legs. "Why don't you come home?" She had the sneaking suspicion he didn't want to come home. Judging from current events, he may never come home.
Gina gave another moan and slipped her fingers across the creamy texture of her thigh to the mass of auburn hair that fringed her oozing, throbbing cunt. Slowly she played at the tight opening, exploring the sensitive membranes. When her middle finger came in contact with her pulsating clit, she flinched. Carefully she pulled back the loose folds of skin to fully reveal the tiny nub and ran her fingertip over the satiny surface. Immediately spasms of delicious agony swept around her cunt and melted toward the base of her spine.
"Oh ... God," she grunted, half-sitting.
She increased the pressure of her finger, then slipped it deeply inside. As her vaginal muscles sucked around her finger, she squeezed her knees together. The pleasure was intensified, yet more agonizing. Her finger could never compare to that big slab of meat Ron had. Eight inches of rock-hard cock, almost as big around as her wrist. Of course, she missed Ron's tongue mostly and how he made her clit bob in a samba motion.
She closed her eyes and could see that glorious prick, the purplish veins, the slippery foreskin that totally covered the mushroom cock knob , and the hair that covered his big balls.
Her body convulsed suddenly, causing her head to jerk to one side. As her orgasm peaked, she rolled to her side, then lay on her hand. She began humping wildly up and down, flexing and unflexing her vaginal muscles, drawing her finger in and out of her spritzing hole. And even when the ecstasy swelled her insides, she knew she would be left empty, probably worse off than before. This was the horrible part. She would lie in bed, drained, craving cock until she finally collapsed in a fitful sleep.
A few moments later, she rolled back over and looked up at the ceiling, a pained expression on her face. She tried to empty her mind of all thoughts, but it was useless. Every shape in the room seemed to remind her of her husband's massive affair. She shot a glance at the dresser, her eyes searching out something -- anything that would relieve the desperate itch she was feeling. Quickly she leaped off the bed and grabbed her new silicone dildo. These days dildoes were available in a vending machine at Starbucks.
She began thrusting the dildo in and out of her cavity so quickly her hand became a fleshy blur. At last she climaxed, causing her to scream and almost fly up off the bed.
She shook her head and fought back the tears. It wasn't fair, she thought. It simply wasn't fair to want something so much. She couldn't concentrate on her housework, the needs of her family -- anything. Not when her pussy was aching like this.
She was about to remove the dildo and try to get some sleep when the door opened suddenly. For a long moment she couldn't even react. Her son, Michael, stood there, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glued to the area between her thighs.
"Mom!" the boy said finally, flushing beet-red. "I ... I thought you ... that is, I heard you scream and ... and ... "
His voice sputtered to a halt, and he took a step backward, almost knocking over a large oriental flower vase. Ron had shipped it from Japan.
Michael swallowed hard, and tried to look away from his Mom's gaping pussy. But a wet, pulsing vagina fringed with hair was a magnet; he could feel its power pulling on his eyeballs, so he was going nowhere. He tried to speak, but only a rattle escaped his lips,
"Michael," Gina finally gasped, "I thought you were out with Betty."
"She ... she had to bring her dog to the vet, " her son replied, feeling ridiculous. Here he was carrying on a conversation with his Mom while she lay there naked, and a dildo sticking out of her pussy.
"I ... I'm sorry," he added. "I guess I should have knocked."
The thoughts that raced through Gina's mind were more shocking than what had happened. She suddenly saw her son in a new light. He was over six feet tall, taller than his father, and the shock of raven-black hair that curled around his angular face set off the flashing, brown eyes to full advantage. Years of football had made his body taut and muscular. He was a jock, not like his father. Her eyes dropped to the thick bulge in his jeans, and she wondered if he had taken after his father in that department.
"I was missing your father," she finally stammered. "I guess you think I'm pretty awful," she added, squeezing her legs together and trying to hide the 12-inch dildo behind her hands.
"No, I don't," Michael said simply. He knew exactly what it was like to want sex and not get it. In fact he had a bad case of blue balls; just looking at his Mom was almost enough to make him blow his wad. "I ... I know exactly how you feel," he added, licking his lips.
Gina knew that she shouldn't entertain the thoughts that burned in her mind, but she couldn't help it. She could picture her son's naked body fucking some younger girl -- Betty she imagined -- and almost feel the cock stab in and out of her own slick pussy.
"No," she whispered, trying to drive the thoughts from her feverish mind. "Oh God, no!"
"I guess I'd better leave," Michael said, although from the tone of his voice, it was obvious he didn't want to. His Mom was still one of the best looking women he'd ever seen. She had long, auburn hair, eyes green as emeralds, and the body of a twenty-year-old. And those tits! Full and ripe! They were tipped with coral-pink nipples that made his mouth water.
"I ... I'm sorry," he said again, moving backward more carefully through the door.
"Don't go," Gina said, wondering why she'd said it.
