The Afternoon Wife
Our principal cast:
Millie and Fred: a married couple
Eric: Millie's 19 year-old nephew
Lee: a man at the hotel
Chapter 1
Fred Mitchell propped himself up against his pillows and sipped a Bud while his wife, Millie, fluttered her fingers lightly up and down his thigh. The TV was on. Fred was a pipe fitter and made good money working at commercial construction sites. He didn't have much of an education, barely making it through high school; he had two jobs because his parents forced him to go to work. They needed the money. Naturally, his grades suffered.
While he was in high school, Fred worked in a supermarket as a grocery clerk, and he would earn extra money working late, stocking shelves at 3 AM. His parents were very proud of him, but his dad told him, "Son, you gotta be careful. Get yourself a gun, because you never know when you're gonna need it!" So Fred went to the police station, got himself fingerprinted, and bought himself a .38 Special, a snub-nosed revolver. He kept the loaded gun in his night stand.
Working as he did, made him bitter later in life, because while his two close buddies went to college, he had to keep working two jobs. He had no time for football or basketball. He had to go to work.
Don't believe for a minute that Fred was dumb. Fred was smart: he joined the union and never had to worry about being out of work. This resulted in his having a mortgage-free 3-bedroom raised ranch house, and two cars. He inwardly smiled when he thought of his two pals who became electrical engineers and were laid off every time a Government contract was cancelled.
Millie, however, lived in her own world. She dedicated her life to devising new ways to get herself relief. Her parents were well-to-do and lived in Northern California, in Palo Alto. Her father, whom they called Dr. Sweet, taught at Stanford University, in the Physics department. In addition to his university salary he was a consultant at NASA, in Mountain View, and was always working on a project that was labeled 'top secret'.
As a result, Millie never had to worry about money and graduated from a junior college majoring in Women's Studies. Or something like that. She spent most of her time protesting with a group of irate lesbians. And she learned how to eat pussy.
Since she was married to Fred she had to play the part of the good wife; meaning, she had to cook for him, keep house, and suck his cock. Playing with her husband's cock always turned her on. It was a huge limb when aroused, and when the foreskin was pulled back the purple nut oozed precum. In the process of teasing him, she naturally become aroused herself. She lay on her side and moved her fingers around his groin, near his receptive member and flipped his tool from side to side.
Her over-active mind was really on her 19 year-old nephew in the next bedroom; his name is Eric. Her own two children were hopefully sleeping down the hall. At thirty-eight the curvy brunette had a good, if not by her own choice, chaste life. She was even happier since her sister-in-law, Laura, had brought Eric with her to visit.
Eric was a very bright guy and a good public speaker. In his debating club at the university, he excelled as a veritable Daniel Webster. (For those of you who are not American history buffs, Webster was Secretary of State under three presidents and was considered to be a great orator.)
Gifted at birth, Eric appeared to have a great future as a politician, and hoped to run for Congress some day. Either that or he could sell used cars. He realized a used car salesman had more integrity than a politician, but you never became a millionaire selling used cars.
Laura was Fred's younger sister and Eric's mother, of course. Laura's first husband had walked out on her because she always ridiculed the size of his doodle. Waiting until you marry to have sex isn't always a good idea, because she was sorely disappointed at the size of his weapon. You might call it a pee-shooter instead of a weapon.
* * *
How lucky I am! Millie thought as she shifted her position in bed, and watched her shorty robe open to reveal the thick hairy nest between her legs. When she leaned forward, her heavy tits became exposed and fell against Fred's arm. He still loved her boobs, even after all the years of their marriage. And yes, they were a little softer, but still pointed and suckable. Bearing two children hadn't caused then to sag too much.
Fred's eyes were glued to the television screen, but that didn't stop his cock from responding to her soft finger play. When she cupped his balls, he turned, glanced at her and gave her a meaningful wink.
She smiled back, and curled her delicate fingers around his shaft while she covered his big balls with her free hand. She encircled his affair with her thumb and forefinger and squeezed tight. He groaned when she moved the tight ring slowly halfway down the length of his shaft. She pulled lightly on his thick foreskin, rolling it up and down the hardening center of his rod.
She relaxed her grip, then tightened it and rubbed one nipple against his arm. "Give me a sip, honey," she said. He moved the warm can of beer to her lips. Her mouth was dry; she really wanted a sperm cocktail.
Sometimes it was nice just to jerk Fred off. She'd bring him to a satisfying climax and then she'd get herself off before they went to sleep. After so many years of marriage, they had their own little ways of doing things. Even though the sex wasn't as exciting as it had been, it was better than nothing. The insatiable brunette tried to think of ways to get him hard, usually by inventing dirty stories about women licking each others' pussies.
As she fondled his balls and pumped his prick, he stopped watching the television screen. He watched her fingers as she delicately moved his loose skin up and down his bobbing tool. She was creative, using two fingers, sometimes three fingers, sometimes her fist. He nodded when she placed a finger over the tiny slit on his knob. Her finger came away wet with his goo and she wiped the head of his prick with the thick clear liquid. She'd bring the finger to her clit, and then to her mouth. That brought him very close to coming. It took only a few seconds of this delicious torture to get him ready to empty his balls. She caressed the flared rim under his knob and once again began stroking him.
She frigged him faster and faster, bringing him to the brink of orgasm. When the blood rushed to his head, and his face contorted, she slowed down her stroking, and left him desperately hanging. She considering rimming him, licking his ass while she jerked him off, but she didn't want to waste a lot of energy on her husband. She was saving it for Eric!
Fred closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows. "Honey, you've got that routine down to a science ..." he said, as she decided to bring his blood pressure back down and get him off.
And when he came, Millie watched his sperm shoot out of his shaft. She quickly leaned over and directed the spurts over her tits. She pumped him vigorously and by the time he was through, her boobs were splattered with his thick cream.
While he was waiting for his breathing to get back to normal, she wiggled out of her robe, and wiped the residue from her chest. She spread her legs and worked her vaginal muscles, doing Kegels as a prelude to opening her labia. She was warming up for the main event, her own fun.
"Want me to do that?" Fred asked sleepily as he rolled onto his belly and faced her.
"No, I'll do it myself, hon," she said.
There were times when she liked Fred to bring her off and times when she preferred doing it to herself. Tonight she wanted to do it herself. Besides, Fred didn't show much enthusiasm. His eyes were already closing.
Massaging her luscious boobs was a good way to start. Her nipples stiffened with arousal, as she inspected them, loving their sweet texture and how sensitive they were. She used her fingers over her most delicate flesh, her clitoris, and especially her anus. Her pucker was well lubricated from her natural oils and she, with bated breath, used her forefinger to good advantage.
She pictured the boy's crotch. He had a tight ass and the bulge between his legs fascinated her. She wondered what his cock and balls were like. She knew he jerked off, like most guys his age. What did he use for masturbation fodder? A girl? A mature woman? Hopefully not another guy!! There weren't many girlie magazines available these days. Playboy was devoted to hospice sex, whatever that was!
She thought about Eric's testicles. She knew they produced sperm but how much? If she jerked him off, what size load could she expect? Do I need a face mask, she asked herself? She had to giggle at that visual. It was bad enough porn sites had ugly old women doing handjobs, but a tattooed porn star with a face mask would be hilarious!
After doing some research she discovered testicles create 1500 sperm cells a second. That's over 5 million cells per hour. No wonder guys with lots of testosterone were so anxious to get laid! Eric was probably whacking off at this instant!
She licked her lips and tilted her ass up. She wondered if Eric was a virgin. She knew her son, John, wasn't. She grimaced to herself. She wondered if her daughter, Pattie, was a virgin. That's a laugh, she thought. If I ever saw a hellcat, it's my daughter.
Becoming more turned on, she stretched her legs and admired the thatch between her thighs. She opened and closed her legs and massaged her full breasts. She loved watching a woman massage her own breasts! Rolling nipples was so erotic!
She tugged at her nipples lightly and pulled at her labia. Hot juice oozed out of her pussy and wet the sheets. Her breathing was irregular as she thought about someone lapping away at her love niche. She preferred Eric, but the incest angle bothered her.
Millie had cheated on her husband, Fred, occasionally. She knew Fred had cheated on her too, but they were both discreet. In suburbia cheating was the norm. Housewives were usually bored and anxious for action on the side. Salesmen would hang out at the Fairmont Hotel bar in the afternoon. That was the time to pick up housewives. In the afternoon. It was easier to pick up a married woman than a single girl. And husbands always needed to work late. Sure, with his face between some woman's legs! Lust cannot be denied. It was a law of nature.
She moved a second finger into her pussy and then a third and pumped them in and out. She writhed her ass and finger-fucked herself, thrusting her fingers into her cunt and using them like a plunger. With a woman, masturbation was a ritual. A guy would jerk himself off, and that was it. But a woman had toys, and she'd use her fingers a while, them whip out a vibrator, or a cucumber, along with an anal plug. She liked a little mood music if she could get it, and then have orgasm after orgasm until somebody rang the doorbell, or her wrist got tired.
Her outer labia opened and she used her thumb to caress her clit. And then she came, her back arched and waves of pure pleasure coursed through her blood stream. When she had recovered and gone to the bathroom to pee, she padded back to bed and tried to sleep. She continued to think about Eric, and by now it had become an obsession. She knew in her heart that she would seduce the boy. Right or wrong, she had to fuck him.
Chapter 2
It happened the very next day. She found herself home alone with Eric. It's fate, she thought as she made him a sandwich for lunch. If it wasn't meant to be, God wouldn't have arranged for me to be alone with him! She considered God to be an event planner with nothing else to do but arrange trysts for horny housewives.
He wolfed down his sandwich and she poured herself some coffee and sat down across from him in the sunny kitchen.
"I love to see a boy with a healthy appetite," she said.
"Yeah," he mumbled, his mouth full.
"How about some potato chips?" she said.
"Sure."
She moved around the kitchen, pouring milk for the teenager and sneaking peeks at his crotch. She shivered at the mass between his legs. How she longed to have him naked on a bed!
She sat down again and drew her chair closer to his. The boy stared at her as he munched his second sandwich. "What are you looking at, Eric?" she said. He'd been staring at her boobs.
"I think you're very pretty," he said.
Millie smiled, her carefully lipsticked mouth quivering slightly. "Why, thank you, darling," she said. She instinctively stuck her chest out and smoothed down her tight tee-shirt. "It's nice to hear a compliment from a boy like you."
