14 comments/ 104125 views/ 17 favorites Walter Kresky's Loving Wife By: Charles Petersunn This is a rather sexist story. In fact, pretty outrageously so, and that is an explicit satirical intention. If stories of this type would be offensive to you, then you shouldn't read it. It is modeled after the loving wives and brides genre available in Japanese adult videos. Otherwise enjoy! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Walter Kresky was having the strangest yet most wonderful dream. He was at some unknown hotel, in a bedroom. It was apparently a very expensive hotel, and he must be in the penthouse suite. The bed was surrounded by many flowers: hyacinths, lilies of the valley, alyssum, lilacs, lavender, and, the most lovely, at least for scent, gardenias. The room was intoxicating with a variety of delightful scents. With each breath he appeared to detect a different flower. Most importantly, he was not alone. He was naked on his bed, his legs spread, and between them was a beautiful actress. He couldn't quite place which one, as each time he looked her face changed, from one actress to another. Whoever she was, she was naked, on her knees, facing him, her breasts dangling from her chest, her fingers cradling his balls, his cock in her mouth, her bottom up in the air. Walter liked having his cock sucked this way. He liked it better than if the woman was kneeling on his left or right, or even lying down between his legs. He preferred it this way, with her bottom poking up in the air, as he enjoyed looking past the red lipsticked lips stretched wide by his thick meaty cock, past the sweet loving eyes gazing adoringly into his, to look up the slowly rising smooth sloped skin of her back, gradually rising up to two very lovely shiny and smooth matching white hillocks, split down the middle by an alluring deep crevice. It was a really nice perspective on a woman. It was like gazing into the distance at two very wonderfully pale twin round snow mounds that were begging to be climbed, mounted, and staked. But, Walter's eyes were also distracted by that face, that so terribly pretty, alluring sexy and famous face. It had changed again to another actress, but the physical sensation was constant, the sensation of her tongue, lapping and licking away at his cock. What man has not had the dream, the fantasy, of a beautiful actress, one he so enjoyed and lusted for, in many a movie, now lovingly giving him an actual blow job, delighting herself in that opportunity, to suckle his thick swollen cock like a sweet candy cane with an inordinately large round juicy cherry at the tip. He moaned with intense delight, but then he woke up. To something even better: his wife, Joanna. She was waking him in her own very special loving way, with a good morning blow job. Is there a more wonderful way to wake up? Of course anything is better than the glaring shrill of a screeching alarm, but this was even better than the soothing sound of a babbling brook, a distant foghorn, or rain falling on a roof. Walter so much preferred his wife's method of bringing him back from his dreams and into the real world than what is provided by all those new age alarms. And, Joanna was just as pretty as any one of those actresses. In fact, it was evident that she must have been up for an hour already, as her make-up was on and hair done. She did want the first thing Walter saw in the morning to be a pretty face, her face, and so of course she wanted her face to be as pretty as it could be, the face with which he had fallen in love. She removed her lips to briefly greet him, "Wake-up sleepy head," providing him with a bright sunny morning smile, as well as a big fat kiss on the tip of his cock, and then returned to her task at hand, or actually the task at mouth and tongue. Walter smiled cheerfully. He loved his wife so very much. What man wouldn't love a woman who would greet him this way? Many a time, when he was younger, he would have an erotic dream, perhaps a dream of a movie star providing him with very wonderful oral sex, or maybe somebody he knew at work, or maybe just a nameless but still pretty woman, only to suddenly wake up to discover it was just a dream. There were times when he managed to keep such dreams going just a little, being in that trance state in between awake and dreaming, but that moment would never last long and he would inevitably realize that it was indeed just a dream, and that he was now awake, and there was no mouth on his still throbbing, yearning erect cock. If he wanted a happy ending he would have to provide it himself. It would be enjoyable, and at times quite intensely so, but never would it be as good as if the dream had in fact continued to its natural, climactic ending. Well, with Joanna it was instead very wonderful to in fact awaken, because now it was for real, and he would indeed have that happy ending. Joanna again slipped her mouth off Walter's cock, this time to provide a few flickering licks just on the very tip, the tip of her tongue against the tip of his cock. She loved doing this, almost as much as he loved having her do it. It was like butterfly kisses on the tip of his dick, right where he provided, released, squirted his cum: his slit. It was precisely there that Joanna concentrated her flicking tongue, as if she wished to tease and excite the tip to the point that it would be forced to release its treasure, its fortune, its gism. While tonguing the tip Joanna caressed and massaged the shaft with her thumbs, holding his stiff rod in place with her fingers at the back, rubbing her two thumbs around and around in little circles along the front of the shaft, slowly working her way up the stiff rod. She always liked to say that through her thumbs she was massaging away all his anxiety, his tension, his stress, as well as potentially bringing forth a delightful and refreshing drink for herself. But, before he could provide her morning protein slushy she shifted her attention to a very thorough licking up and down his shaft, at just about every inch, curve, and crevice she could find. It was like a mother cleaning her baby, making sure that she didn't miss a spot. The visual contrast of his obscene manly cock towering across her very pretty face, being bathed by her soft feminine tongue, was really so evocative. She even paused when she was licking just the very tip of his dick to again give him a deep, sustained kiss but now on the underside of his crown, where he was most sensitive. The swollen red bulb was thereby lodged just beneath her nose, and she took in a deep breath of his manly, musky scent while she kissed and stroked his shaft. He smiled in deep satisfaction as he contemplated squirting his load up into his wife's nose. He wondered if she would like that. She did so very much like the aroma of his cum. She would say it was kind of fruity and fresh. As he thought further he knew she would enjoy it up her nose, or at least she wouldn't mind. She would usually ask him where he wanted to cum, and she had never declined any request. She slipped her tongue out and drew it down his shaft, all the while keeping her bright, gay, and adoring blue eyes trained on his, stopping when his knob was right in between her eyes, his cock splitting her face in half. She asked, "Can I take it in my mouth, sweetie?" He favored his own preference, her nose, as that would be something quite new, but she didn't ask for many favors. He would allow her this own indulgence. "Certainly, honey. Anything for my little Peaches." He liked to call her his little Peaches. "You're so good to me, Walter." He reached out and caressed her cheek as she nibbled on his shaft. "Well, don't let it go to your head." "I won't," she replied and brought that head back up so that she could bring it back down, this time with his cock reabsorbed into her mouth. She didn't though just open her mouth to take Walter's cock inside. She liked to first plant her lips on the tip, like she was giving it a kiss, and then have the cock very, very slowly push past her mildly resisting, clenching lips, gradually opening up her lips wider and wider and wider as the cock, little by little, entered inside. It was a much more visibly and physically pleasing way to draw his cock inside, letting him see it enter as if in slow motion. Nor did she bring her face all the way down into his crotch. She first took only the crown into her mouth so that she could use her hand to caress and stroke his now very wet and slick shaft, while she devoted her tongue to his soft, swollen knob. She felt the knob tasted the best. It was the juiciest, softest fresh fruit on the tip of his trunk. She did like licking it the most. She suckled his cock like it was a giant nipple, trying to draw forth from his nuts his warm, tasty cream, all the while twisting and turning one clenched fist up and down the shaft, working his cock like a professional milkmaid, the other hand more gently, softly caressing and squeezing his balls. Joanna was really quite ambidextrous. It was now a very forceful, demanding sucking, and it didn't take too long for him to feel that he was about to cum. He would have preferred to drag it out longer. He did so enjoy a long lingering blow job but he did, after all, need to get to work. He was Vice President of sales for J.C. Drithers and Company and his boss, Mr. Julius Drithers, would not be happy if he arrived late. He felt his balls tighten up and pull in against him. It was a sign Joanna noticed as well, and she took to her task with even further furry and force, vigorously bobbing her face up and down in his lap, pumping his cock with her face and fist with a frenzied ferocity, until he suddenly exploded across her tongue and into her mouth. Joanna so much enjoyed Walter cumming in her mouth. She felt his cum tasted better than any man's she had previously indulged. She really couldn't explain why. Perhaps it was because she truly loved Walter, perhaps it was her good cooking that he so much enjoyed. She did notice changes in the taste depending upon what she cooked. It seemed to be particularly sensitive to different fruits and vegetables. Meat somehow didn't seem to have an effect. In any case, whatever the reason for her partiality she gladly received his masculine broth, swishing her tongue around in her mouth as it squirted and sprayed into every nook and cranny, keeping the hot thick cream well stirred with her tongue as it poured and gushed inside. An orgasm was such a nice way to start the day, being engulfed by waves of unadulterated, blissful pleasure coursing through his body, accompanied by the sight of his shaft lodged within his lovely wife's red lips, her face glued to his cock as it twitched, jerked, and spewed into her mouth. Joanna sighed with satisfaction, and appreciation. Walter had quite a bit of cum, but perhaps that should not be surprising as his balls were rather large, plus it was the first orgasm of the day, having had all night to refuel and refill the tank. Joanna in fact could feel her mouth filling up. She could try to swallow some of it, but she found that this risked coughing and gagging, and she might then need to disengage entirely. Her best option was to hold on tight and wait until his reservoir emptied. She did know by experience that she would be able to take it all, but her cheeks would be pretty well bloated with gooey masculine gism. She did like a big mouthful of hot porridge, especially for breakfast. Walter could see his wife having a bit of difficulty taking it all. But he also knew she could and would do it. He had faith in Joanna's strengths and talents, and her commitment. Joanna took great pride in her role and duties as Walter's wife, and she would not let him down. He looked on with blissful confidence as his cock gave its final lurches and shudders, spitting its few remaining squirts into his loving wife's mouth. When Joanna was confident that he was done, she milked out the remaining drops with her hands, and then squeezed even harder with her lips on his shaft and slowly, carefully, withdrew her mouth from Walter's cock. Walter watched his cock gradually reappear, the crown eventually popping out from between Joanna's lips. It looked pretty happy to him: all shiny and glistening. He reached down to grasp Joanna's hands to pull her up to him for a good morning kiss in return. She certainly deserved that. But, Joanna waved him off. Keeping her lips tightly sealed she slid off the bed, reached down to the floor and picked up a cup of steaming hot black coffee. It was a dark french blend. She brought it up to her lips, as if to enjoy the wonderful aroma of heavy smoky coffee in the morning, but she opened her lips just enough to let a large glob of Walter's cream slip from her lips into the cup, into the dark brew. Joanna liked thick cream in her coffee. She then swallowed much of the rest of Walter's cum, washing it down with her coffee, and smiled gratefully at her husband. He responded, "But, where's my cup?" Joanna reached down again and brought up a second cup for her husband. Fortunately he did not take his coffee with cream. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Walter went to work with considerable energy, encouragement, and self-confidence. It takes a good wife to give her man what he needs to get going in the morning, to go out into that jungle, bag the game, and bring home the bacon. She will of course be rewarded for her loving support in many tangible ways. Walter was a very generous provider. And, he did love his wife so very much. They had been married for almost ten years now, and he still missed her when he was at work. Not too many husbands can say that, as the passion of the marriage is often lost for some, even after just a few years. This wasn't at all true for Walter. He couldn't wait to get back home to spend more quality time with Joanna, to feel her warm embrace, her deep love, her warm, wet lips. But, he didn't have to. When it was time for lunch Walter closed and locked his office door. He didn't like being disturbed during lunch. This was his quiet time, his down time. Most everyone at J.C. Drithers and Company respected each other's lunch hour, as most of them felt the same way. Lunch time was a time to catch your breath, to relax, to get away from the dreary pressure of work, at least for awhile. Disturbing one another during lunch was really discourteous, if not outright inappropriate. Still, Walter would lock his door just to make sure any potentially offending party got the message. He would though answer the phone, as a call could be from a customer. And, of course, if Mr. Drithers came by; well, he would most certainly answer the door for him. However, as soon as Walter retired to his couch for lunch there was a knock at his door. It was a polite knock, but a knock nevertheless. He took a deep, frustrating sigh and wondered whether he should simply ignore it. He was going to have a Chinese delivery and he certainly didn't want it to get cold. Well, at least the person knocked. It was amazing how many colleagues simply tried to open the door, not even bothering to knock. At least he, or she, hadn't tried to do that. He once put a "Please do not disturb" sign on the door, but Mr. Drithers did not approve. What if a potential client stopped by? Well, perhaps he should indeed answer the door. It could in fact be management, perhaps even Mr. Drithers, although Walter doubted that he would knock so politely. As he got up from his desk and approached the door he heard another few taps. "Yes, yes, I'm coming," he answered impatiently. He threw open the door with a bit of a scowl, but that quickly changed to a delighted smile when he saw it was his Joanna. "Peaches!" he exclaimed with considerable enthusiasm at the sight of her presence. She was standing before him, as pretty as ever, with her picnic box. She had brought him a home-made lunch. "Hello sweetie," she responded, "I'm out shopping and I thought I would just stop by and drop off a little something for you, for your lunch. You can't always have Chinese everyday, can you?" She was certainly right about that. It was a really nice surprise and such a considerate gesture. He quickly invited her in before someone noticed his door open, suggesting perhaps that he was in fact open for business. "Come in, come in. This is so sweet of you." As Joanna strolled into her husband's office she commented, "I just don't understand why they don't provide you with a bigger office." She set the picnic box by his desk and strung the electrical cord over to an outlet. It was not an ordinary wicker picnic basket. Joanna's picnic box included separate compartments for cooling and heating. It required an electrical outlet for optimal efficiency but could be powered simply by plugging into a car's cigarette lighter, which she had used on the way to his office. "You know, you really should speak to them as you are much too important for this company. Here, I'll plug it in here and you can then help yourself in a bit." 'In a bit?' he wondered. She then strolled over to his wall-sized window. "You do at least have a very wonderful view." That was certainly true. He was on the 35th floor, and did have an excellent, even coveted, view of downtown Scranton. It was spectacular. Thirty-five floors is not that high up, but the effect is really magnified when the window covers the entire wall. There was in fact no wall; it was just one large window. Joanna paused to admire the view. "You can see into so many other windows from here." She could indeed, particularly the offices across the street that were lower than the 35th floor. "They do though all look so terribly bored and lonely, eating by themselves in their drab, cramped spaces." Walter noticed that his wife was wearing her trench coat. It wasn't really necessary as the weather was rather nice. But, he didn't have to wait long for an explanation. "I imagine they can see into here as well, if they take the time to look." She turned around to face Walter and, while looking directly into his eyes, she undid the coat's belt, it's large buttons, pulled it open, and pulled it off, letting it drop to the floor. She was completely stark naked (with the exception of her high heels). She pressed her bare bottom against the expansive window pane. If anybody was indeed looking they would have been treated with a lovely bare butt squished against the window. They would probably be more than just a bit curious. Walter though had the better view, the front view, and it was beyond glorious. Joanna was not only very pretty, and she not only had the most lovely hair, and immaculate make-up, but she also had a drop-dead gorgeous figure. Her body was the epitome of the hour glass figure, a body that even the doll Barbie would envy, if Barbie was capable of feelings. Joanna was well-tanned, but not where it counted the most. She always wore a bathing suit when out in the sun, but in such instances it would be the skimpiest of bikinis. When naked, this provided a really provocative sight, as her breasts and cunnie stood out so boldly, as if lit by a bright white light contrasting with her deep dark tan, signaling that these precious parts of her body were for her husband's eyes only, never seeing the light of day unless it was a very special and private occasion. Yet, by the very small, narrow pale strips, Joanna was also indicating that when she did wear a bathing suit she came awfully close to exposing those precious parts to anyone who might be interested, and many men would indeed be quite interested. Joanna's breasts were among her best features (after her pretty, sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and kissable lips). They were really quite large, and strikingly firm and prominent, even when not being held up by one of her sexy brassieres. They were really grand snowy mountains, white and pure as driven snow, capped by two round rosy areolas each with its own little tower, poking out rather straight and tall from each jutting peak. These were boobs that any man would so much desire to climb, to snuggle, to squeeze, and to fuck. Joanna had indeed on a number of occasions let Walter cum by sliding his cock in and out of those lovely flesh pillows, even squeezing them together for him, admiring the sight of the crown of his dick peeking out from and then retreating back down within her slick, fleshy tunnel, eventually to provide her with one of his very well received pearl necklaces. She so much liked pretty jewelry. Walter Kresky's Loving Wife But, perhaps even better than her breasts was his wife's cunnie. Joanna shaved off much of her growth, leaving only a strip that directed him where to land his jet, as if he needed any such help. Walter very much enjoyed a bald cunnie. It looked so pure, so bare and exposed, so innocent and yet so primitively, fundamentally enticing: just a soft, little white mound rising between Joanna's thighs, capped be a most delicate slit, between which held the most wondrous stimulation that his cock could ever enjoy. Walter could even detect a bit of glistening moisture on the lips of his wife's crevice. As Walter would say, why hide behind a bush that which is perhaps the prettiest part of a girl's body? It should be out there in the bright light of the day, for her man to admire. Joanna would always blush when he said that. His compliments were so sweet, so considerate, and it was so very nice to hear that he found her pretty, down there. She had never really been very certain about that, at least before she was married. She was now. Walter reached behind himself to double-check that his door was indeed locked, albeit not taking his eyes off of his wife as he fiddled with the lock. "Do I please you, dear?" Joanna asked. "Yes," he quietly responded, "very, very much so, Peaches." "I'm not interrupting you, am I?" "No, no, not at all." His cock was swelling fast within his boxers. "Well, that's good. I know how much you enjoy your privacy at lunch." Joanna encouraged her husband to tell her how his day went when he came home, and he had often spoke of how someone had annoyingly disrupted this brief moment of pleasure during his always very busy, hectic, or dreary day. He didn't make a big deal about it, but Joanna did listen closely. She bent over, pressing her bottom more firmly against the glass, to pick up her trench coat. His eyes followed the swaying of her breasts as she bent over to pick up her coat. Breasts filled out so well when a woman bent over. Joanna paused to let him admire her hanging boobs, and then stood back up to take her coat to his coat rack, seemingly oblivious to the fact that anyone looking into her husband's office would see as well her swaying, jiggling breasts. Of course, though, they wouldn't know who she was. They probably didn't know who was even in this office, let alone this naked woman who was visiting an apparently very lucky executive. They would probably think that someone at J.C. Drithers and Company had hired a prostitute to pleasure this executive during lunch. They would be rather jealous but appreciative that he had the courtesy to leave the blinds open. Joanna strode confidently toward Walter, those bulbous boobs bouncing and bobbling as she did so. By the time she arrived her nipples appeared to be as stiff and extended as the dick in his pants. "Honey," she asked, "Would you do me a really big, big favor?" She looked into his eyes like a girl entreating her father to buy her a new puppy. Walter could never resist that plaintive, pleading expression, and certainly wouldn't do so when presented in the implied context of providing a comparably special favor in return. "Absolutely, dear, anything." He didn't care what it was. He knew it wouldn't be exorbitant. Perhaps a new dress. At the moment she clearly needed one, although she could hardly be shopping dressed, or undressed, like this. "I want you to take me over your desk." Well, that wasn't a particularly difficult request. He would indulge her, at least this one time. "Shouldn't I close the blinds?" "Why dear?" Joanna responded, looking over her shoulder as she strolled over to his desk. "Are you so terribly ashamed of your wife?" As his eyes admired the sight of that swaying tush (damn his wife had a great butt) he acknowledged, "No, honey, not at all." She had the bottom of an eighteen year old. Any younger than that and it would be illegal, if not immoral. "Well then, let's let your neighbors appreciate what a pretty wife you have." She moved his papers off to the side, carefully piling them in a manner that he would be subsequently able to reproduce how they had been originally arranged and then, her breasts jiggling as she did so, bent over his desk and thrust her bottom out toward him. "You can pretend I'm your secretary." Walter suggested instead, "How about I pretend it's you." "I know you've thought about her. I don't mind if you think about other girls. I know what boys are like." She looked back at him, wiggling her bottom back and forth, "You wouldn't do anything though, would you?" Walter had indeed thought about his secretary, in that way. No normal man wouldn't, at least once. She was really quite sexy, and made no effort to hide that fact. Her skirts were often short, her blouse usually tight, at times even diaphanous. How do women get away with that, wearing clothes that one could actually see through. She can't walk around without a blouse, but she can walk around with a blouse that is essentially a window? Well, in any case, it was also true that he had never acted on any of his natural impulses, or his fantasies, regarding other women. He never would. He wouldn't have to. He would just have to mention them to his wife and she would act them out with him, for him. Wives will at times ask their husbands what they want, in bed. Husbands will usually say that what she has been doing, what they are doing, is precisely what he wants. At best he will ask for some minor addition, liking doing it from behind, perhaps doing it in a different room, perhaps even doing it in a public place. Some rare men may even ask her to take it on her face, to wear a special outfit (like a nurse, waitress, or even school girl), or to even let him do it up her butt. But, Joanna was well past all of this. There really wasn't anything she would deny Walter, no matter how seemingly nasty, perverse, or offensive. But, these simple acts of love were best kept secret, as many would not find them to be to their liking. The important point is that Walter had no reason to consider looking elsewhere. He had Joanna. "There really isn't anyone I want, Joanna, other than you." "Flattery will get you everything," she responded, and arched her back, spread her legs, and raised up her bottom. He glanced at the large open windows. It was a bit disconcerting, knowing that your wife was so openly wantonly displayed, but then also knowing that nobody across the street who could view into his office would really know who she was. Even if they figured out it was him, they wouldn't know it was her, his wife. And, even if one or two persons were suspicious about that, how could they really prove it? And, finally, who really cares? What real harm will come from this? Frankly, the fact that strangers could see, could enjoy what they were seeing, made it all the more exhilarating, and exciting. He unzipped his slacks, extracted his erect cock, and approached his wife, his stiff dick waving before him as he strode up to her wantonly upraised bottom. When he arrived at her fanny it was not difficult to lodge his cock at the entrance to her cunt. She knew how to present herself so that there would not be the least bit of difficulty for Walter, so that he would find her to be entirely available, receptive, and easy. He should not have to work for this. It, she, should be readily accessible. He positioned his cock at the entrance to her most inviting and giving cunnie and, without any foreplay, shoved it fast and hard all the way up inside. "Mmmmmmm," Joanna softly groaned as she felt Walter drive his cock deep up inside her. She so much liked it when he drove it in hard. "Oh, Mr. Kresky!" Joanna then gasped, "It's so big! I didn't realize you'd be so big. But then," she said, looking back at him with a twinkle in her eyes, "You are Vice President and everything." Walter smiled and his dick swelled. "You can handle it, Violet," Walter responded, playing along. "You're a very good secretary." "Oh, Mr. Kresky, do you really think so?" "You're the best, dear, really." "Oh, Mr. Kresky, that makes me so happy. I so much want to please you." And she was indeed doing precisely that. They had been married for a number of years but Walter never tired of Joanna's cunt. As she once said, they were meant for each other, made for each other, and that romantic sentiment certainly applied to the wedding of her cunt to his cock. They were organs that seemed to be perfectly complementary, perfectly matched. It was like her cunt was designed precisely for the purpose of providing maximal stimulation for the nerve endings all along and around his dick. Her pussy was better than her hand, her butt, or even her mouth. There was really nothing to compare it to. If only a company could create and produce an artificial one that was comparable. There would be a lot of money to be made with a product like that, if it was actually realistic. But, of course, it still wouldn't be Joanna's cunt, and hers did appear to be especially designed for him, for Walter's cock. It seemed to hug, caress, and massage every inch, every centimeter of his dick. She even gave him a welcoming squeeze once he was firmly ensconced. Walter at first just teased Joanna by slowly sliding his cock in and out of her, never ever fully leaving, but pulling back so far that it was just about ready to escape, to slip out, and then he would reverse direction and gradually push and drive it back in, enjoying every little centimeter, curve, and crevice of Joanna's fleshy wet cunnie with the sensitive soft head of his dick. He gently screwed her this way for sometime, slowly moving his cock in and out, in and out, all the while enjoying the sight of her little taut tush and puckered rosebud, as well as the sound of her soft whimpering. As she got wetter and wetter her sighing was accompanied by the slushing and sluicing sounds of his wife's slippery slit. "Oh Mr. Kresky, please, please fuck me harder. I can't take it anymore." It was not really role playing now. Joanna so much enjoyed being fucked hard, being really nailed, but she did appreciate that the longer he took to get there, the more intense would be the ending. She did though encourage Walter by thrusting back her pelvis each time he moved forward, as well as circling her bum around and around and around, helping him to screw it all the way in. She groaned with frustration though as she felt him pull back. She so much preferred the sensation of him driving it in than feeling him pulling it out. If only there could always be the former without the latter: to always feel herself being screwed rather than feel herself losing him. He increased the pace. He knew they could not do this too long. He only had an hour for lunch, and he hadn't even started, at least with the food. "Mr. Kresky, yes, yes," Joanna begged, "Fuck your little secretary so hard! Give her the big manly cock of her boss." He drove his dick in and out as hard and fast as he could. "Mmmph!" Joanna lurched with the first really hard plunge. "Yes, that's it, Mr. Kresky," she quicky recovered, "I've wanted this so, so long. You're so big, so powerful." Walter wished his office was soundproof, or at least enough that nobody could hear from outside, could hear the sound of abdomen slapping against flesh, cock sluicing a very wet swollen cunt, a wife groaning and moaning with pleasure. Joanna turned her face back to look at Walter, and pleaded, "You'll cum on my face, Mr. Kresky, won't you? Won't you please?" "Wait," he gasped. He never could last terribly long when he fucked Joanna this hard. Just a moment ago he had not wanted it to last much longer but once he started, once it started to feel this good, he wanted it to last at least a bit longer. "Mr. Kresky," Joanna gasped, "Is there something else you wanted? Something else I can do, for you?" Actually, there was. "I want to do it at the window." Joanna reached back and pushed Walter away, his dick slipping out of her cunt with a rather lewd slushing sound, drawing with it a considerable amount of fluid that dripped down her thighs. "Mr. Kresky!" she exclaimed and then lowered her voice. "Someone will be able to see us. Goodness, gracious." He retorted, "Someone can see us now." Joanna covered her breasts and cunnie with her hands, as if she was now just realizing this. "But not nearly so well than if we were in fact right at the window! Goodness, gracious, Mr. Kresky, you're such a scamp!" "Violet, please," Walter pleaded. "My wife would never do anything like that, and I've always wanted to." "I don't know, Mr. Kresky. I know some of the secretaries in that building. I know some of the executives! What if they recognized me?" "I'll give you a Christmas bonus." There was probably some real uncertainty on the part of his wife, but Walter knew that it was mostly play. Joanna smiled. "A bonus? Really?" She gave Walter a peck on the cheek. "You're so good to me, Mr. Kresky," and she scampered over to the large, wall-sized window, her breasts wobbling and wiggling as she did so. This was perhaps a bit risky. Walter didn't know anyone within the office building across the street, but that doesn't mean nobody there would know him. After all, he was one of the vice Presidents of J.C. Drithers and Company. And, certainly his boss, Mr. Drithers, would not appreciate one of his executives exposing himself in such a manner. That really wasn't the image that Mr. Drithers wanted the company to project. But, when one's dick is stiff and hard it will lead one in many directions that perhaps one should not go, but would certainly enjoy arriving. Walter followed his wife's behind, his stiff dick pointing out from his slacks, happily leading the way. Joanna leaned forward, bracing herself against the window with the palms of her hands, spreading her legs, and thrusting out her bottom. It was a most inviting presentation: her red, swollen, wet lips glistening in the office light, moisture dripping down her thighs. Walter hesitated, as it was a most beautiful sight. What did he do to deserve this woman? Being Vice President of J.C. Drithers and Company? Not hardly. But, there she was, presenting her cunt to him, while exposing herself to the world. He once again positioned his cock at the entrance to her wet yet burning cunt. "Fuck me now, Mr. Kresky, fuck me like I deserve it, please," she begged, thrusting her cunt back against his dick, lodging it securely inside her tight, gripping, yearning slit. He leaned down over her, reaching around to grasp her hanging breasts. They always felt so much fuller, so much more pliant and squishy when they hung from her body like this, like the full udders of a woman wanting to be milked. He squeezed them in his hands as he again drove his cock up her cunt. "Yes, yes, Mr. Kresky," she gasped, "that's it, so nice, so wonderful." Joanna gazed out through the window with intoxicated, glazed eyes, scouring the windows within her view, searching for the eyes of others who might be upon her, as Walter's cock slid in and out of her cunt. "Ohhhhhh," she groaned as she felt her man's cock plunging, servicing her cunt. Abandoning her exposure to her fate she raised her head, closed her eyes, and breathed in lustful pants as she returned his thrusts with comparably obscene humping and heaving. It was indeed a very lecherous, lewd, and lascivious sight, and one not missed by some. It did not take long for bored, dreary, and worn men, feasting on their tired lunches, the same fast food sandwiches, burgers, or salads that they ate day in and day out, looking longingly out of their windows for something new, something different from the same view they have had for many, many years, the view of other offices of other men doing the same thing: looking out their windows for something worth looking at. But, today was indeed different. For there, across the street, just yards away, was a butt naked woman, leaning into the window, her legs spread, a guy behind her, grasping, squeezing, and mauling her breasts as he drove his dick in and out of her cunt. Yes, this was a very different day, very delightfully different. Walter bent far over Joanna, not so much to have better sex, but to hide his face in the back of his wife. There was no reason for anyone to recognize her. They could perhaps figure out the location of the office, and by that determine who was fucking this naked woman, but even then he could possibly claim that it was not in fact him, that he was not in his office at the time of the offense. It would be a weak defense, but potentially successful. Yes, perhaps he could have his cunt and eat it too, have his wife in public view yet be free from any cost himself. Well, who really cared, as her clinging, clutching, clenching cunt felt so fucking good. It was like every nerve of his cock was being massaged, lit up, and inflamed. Joanna could see through her partially closed eyes that she had indeed drawn some attention. It was a bit embarrassing, knowing that all these gawking, smiling, leering men's eyes were feasting on the sight of her body being fucked as their mouths were feasting on their lunches. Hopefully the sight of her was at least more pleasurable than the taste of their sandwiches, but it was a bit disappointing that many of them did not in fact put down their food, continuing to eat as if she was actually just a distracting merriment, a luncheon special. Yet, there was one man, actually she spotted another, who could be clearly seen playing with himself. One had even extracted his cock and was smiling lecherously up at her as her body lurched, jerked, and trembled with the thrusting and driving of Walter's cock. If Joanna was easily embarrassed she would be mortified. Perhaps she would be if she knew any of those men leering at her, and perhaps she should be even though she didn't know them. Walter momentarily let go of her breasts, exposing them now more fully to view (although their being squeezed and pawed was itself rather fetching). Joanna quickly let go of the window and covered her breasts with one hand as well as her cunnie with the other, now that she was at it. However, the fact that she was trying to hide herself, protect her modesty, by covering her breasts and cunnie, was even more alluring, more erotic, as it made it all the more clear that they were seeing something that should not be seen, that she was feeling violated by them as she was being violated by him. And, besides, it was such a feeble, pointless effort, particularly when she could not conceal the fact that she was being so obviously fucked from behind. In fact, it was rather incongruous for her to be covering herself from the front while it was from behind that she was in fact being screwed. Joanna looked with dismay and shame upon the eyes of the many men who were watching her, enjoying her show, her display, her exhibition. She was not though in fact feeling shame. She was feeling delight, power, and quite intense arousal and excitement. She only looked with shame and humiliation because she knew that the men watching would enjoy it all the more if they felt that she was mortified and shamefaced. She released her hands from her cunnie and breasts to cover her face, as if by hiding her eyes she could not be seen, when in fact she was now showing them everything, or at least pretty much everything they wanted to see. But, she could not hide her face for long, as Walter was about to grant her earlier request. "Yes, I'm ready," he announced, "quickly dear, on your knees, on your knees!" Joanna was herself getting so close but she really had no choice. With some reluctance, at least with respect to the timing, she slipped from his stake and dropped to the floor, on her knees, back on her haunches, her bottom resting on her ankles, her breasts profiled to the window, her head, her face, drawn back to receive her lunch. Walter Kresky's Loving Wife Walter was now in full view of their audience, but he did not care. At this moment in time he might have even been willing to have the door to his office open. Nothing at this moment mattered other than having and completing his orgasm, and in this instance it would be on his wife's face, as his ersatz secretary had requested. "Take it, Violet," he ordered, "take it like you want it." She did want it. She wanted it very much. And, not to be left out herself she reached down with her left hand and squeezed her clit, bringing herself to climax as well, just as the first glob splatted across her eye, which she closed, albeit a little late. Those who were lucky enough to get a free seat for this show were very appreciative, if not stunned. The few who were actually going so far as to participate in the act, albeit vicariously, reached their own climaxes as well, one even within his slacks, which would be a problem later but that concern did not currently occupy his mind. Everyone's mind was now overtaken by the floods of their orgasmic paroxysms sweeping their bodies. Rationale thought was not readily accessed. And rationality was certainly far from the mind of Walter, who was gazing down onto the sweet lovely face of his dear Joanna, smiling angelically as it was being doused and drenched by his repeated spurts and gushes of thick, white, sloppy cum. His dick twitched and jerked in his hand, his legs felt weak and tremulous, but he stood his ground and took careful aim, being sure to get every special spot of her face splattered with at least some globs of thick gism. Joanna's smile broadened as she felt herself taken away by her orgasm. There was really little better than cumming while you're being cummed on, for you have the benefit of experiencing two orgasms at once, your own and your partner's. Men will at times complain that they can't tell that their wives even came, and well they should. But Joanna, a woman, was most fortunate to have such a concrete and vivid, as well as quite wet, even a bit sticky, firsthand evidence of her man's ejaculation. Joanna opened her mouth and slipped out her tongue. She wanted to taste it as well. Walter's balls were about empty but he did manage to quench his wife's thirst, at least a bit, getting the last few spurts onto her outstretched tongue and into her mouth. He did want to make her happy. She did deserve that. Joanna's smile turned into a grin as she felt, and tasted, Walter's cum on her tongue. Sometimes life was so good, so pleasing, so satisfying. When he appeared to be done Joanna turned her face toward the window, toward her audience within the office cells of the building across the street. She scooped up the globs of cum hanging onto and off of her nose, stuck out her tongue, and let them slowly drip from her fingers down onto her tongue. She rested the globs there for awhile, savoring their texture, their taste, and then brought them inside, swallowed them, and with a big, contented, gratified smile, she waved to the men, cum still dripping from her hand and face. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Joanna had quickly returned home after her lunch with Walter as there was much to do. A housewife's work is never really done. Joanna did truly work 24-7. Whenever she forgot her work, her role, her responsibilities, taped to her refrigerator was the "Good Wife's Guide." The guide was developed originally for a high school home economics text. However, the points were so poignant, so real, so true, that the guide quickly circulated well beyond its humble beginning. Delta Nu, Joanna's college sorority, in fact published it within the sorority's manual for success, where Joanna had discovered it in college (see "Five Steps to Delta Nu"). Joanna attributed her success in finding Walter, her perfect husband, to being a Delta Nu, and the Good Wife's Guide to keeping him. It consisted of ten simple steps (at least the Delta Nu version consisted of just 10 steps; the original version was a bit longer). THE GOOD WIFE'S GUIDE: 1. One should plan ahead to have a delicious meal prepared, approximately 1.5 hours after his return from work (the exact timing, of course, depends on his particular schedule and preferences). Having the meal prepared in advance is a very good way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favorite dish) is part of the warm welcome. In addition, having the meal ready in advance frees up time to provide additional acts of wifely care. 2. You should be prepared as well. You should take about 15 minutes to rest before his arrival so that you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Of course, one must leave enough time to touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people, and it's important that he be greeted with the sight of a fresh and cheerful welcome. 3. Be sure to clear away the household clutter. Just before he arrives, make one last sweep through the house to be sure that nothing has been missed. Be sure not to leave your girlish magazines lying about. Your job is simple: just keep the house clean. He may want to hire a maid to help you, but you should decline the offer. His hard-earned money is not well spent doing your job. 4. Be sure to gather up all of the children's schoolbooks, toys, and clothes. In addition, prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash their hands and faces, comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are his little treasures and he would like to see that they are indeed being well cared for and well raised. Certainly minimize all noise. The children should greet him as well upon his arrival (please see the opening segment to Father Knows Best for a helpful illustration). (This helpful hint did not actually apply to Joanna, as they did not yet have any children. She did, however, have her fingers crossed for the future.) 5. Even if your own day has been difficult, be sure to be gay, sprightly, animated, and chipper upon his arrival. A man's life at work is often difficult, tedious, and perhaps even stressful. He will often feel beaten down by his boss, and unappreciated. He will need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it. Upon his arrival greet him with a warm smile, and display an obvious sincerity in your desire to please. Take his hat and his coat, and have waiting for him his favorite beverage (a cold drink in the summer, warm in the winter, unless he prefers it otherwise). 6. During the cold winter months you should prepare a fire for him to unwind by. There is really nothing like the hearth and home, and being able to bask in the warmth of a fire, with you by his side. This will go far in letting him know that he has truly reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a respite as well. 7. Help him to be comfortable. Have him lean back in his favorite easy chair, arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes and put on his slippers. A foot massage can also go a long way. 8. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice and, most importantly, listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, perhaps some bills need to be paid, or a dripping faucet needs to be fixed, but the moment of his arrival is not the right time. It is his time to unwind, to be reminded of why he loves to come home. 9. Make the evening his. Do not complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner with colleagues or friends, or some place of entertainment. A man does need his time to sport, to crow, even when he is married (perhaps then even more so). Remember, he is ultimately doing this for you. A happy, contented husband provides a happy, contented marriage. Try to understand that while you have been safe within his home, he has been out there, in the real world of strain, pressure, turmoil, and even danger, all for the purpose of making you happy, of buying you nice things to make you look and feel pretty. 10. In sum, try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order, and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit. Catering to his comfort will be catering to your own, your comfort in knowing that you have a happy, safe, and secure marriage. Joanna took the ten steps to heart. She in fact expanded on them in a number of important ways, ways that probably would not be appropriately included within a high school textbook, although well learned during her years as a sister of Delta Nu. She would, of course, greet her husband with a smile, a drink, fresh make-up, and perhaps even a ribbon in her hair. She would always be sure to dress in a manner that he would fine appealing and attractive, and at times much more than that. There is no better way to please a man, to make a man feel happy to be home than to please him as a woman. And, it was really very clear, at least to the women of Delta Nu, what was most pleasing to a man when it came to women. Joanna would not always dress provocatively for Walter. If it became a regular habit, it would become just habitual, routine. It was important for their love to be full of surprises. She would always be in fresh clothes for his arrival, but not always necessarily suggestive clothes. This evening, though, Joanna was dressed, or actually undressed, in one of his most favorite nighties: a light blue, see-through baby doll that hung down low on her chest, providing quite a nice bit of appealing cleavage for Joanna's breasts, which were jutting out from her body like full, ripe melons. She was really quite proud of her breasts, as she should be. They were really very well-shaped and firm, so nicely round, and capped by two very pointy, erect nipples. They always became erect when Walter arrived home from work. It was like they were his two little pets, standing up so proudly, so excitedly, to see him: barking, panting, and begging for some attention, some love, some kisses. The diaphanous baby doll hung down just to her hips. The hem was a thick fluffy fur. Peaking out beneath was the little "V" of her matching light blue panties, which were so tight that Joanna's camel toe was quite visibly apparent, not that the outline was even really necessary, as the panties were also see-through and her shaved cunnie lips were themselves clearly evident. Joanna was also wearing light blue thigh high nylons, with high heels. She almost always wore heels. They really did wonders for the curves of her calves and the roundness of her bottom. She knew how Walter really enjoyed the sight of her bottom, and she was not about to neglect that part of her anatomy. She had in fact doubled-checked the back of her panties before she greeted him at the door. Sometimes panties will bunch up or hang loose on one's bottom. It's really not very appealing when they hang loose and it only takes a second to check them, to pull them out and up a bit so they snugged tightly, so they accentuated and complimented the adorable curves of her derriere. Joanna was also wearing Clive Christian Imperial Majesty perfume, their signature scent. As Joanna liked to say, it was "an extravagant and complex bouquet of precious Indian jasmine, mandarin and sandalwood." It was really quite expensive, but it was Walter's favorite, and he rarely begrudged Joanna the cost of something that made her feel pretty, particularly something as important as perfume. Walter would usually arrive home at approximately 5:45, fighting the rush hour traffic all the way. Joanna really hated to drive in traffic, and she never envied Walter's struggle to get home, which was all the more reason for his arrival to be fully rewarding. Greeting him at the door dressed like this was at times a bit risky. She would certainly be ready by 5:30, but he might at times be late. She would not simply wait by the door for him to arrive. After all, he might have decided to stop off to have drinks with some friends, or perhaps his boss was keeping him late. If he knew he was going to be late he would usually call. He was not inconsiderate like some husbands. But sometimes he was too busy to call, or was just rushed away by some impulsive request or suggestion, or he might just forget. Nobody was perfect. So, she would not wait by the door like a submissive puppy, waiting for her master to arrive, like some wives she knew. She would make good use of the time, albeit something that would not likely disturb her appearance, particularly her hair and make-up. She might, for instance, sew a rip in a shirt or a tear in a pair of his pants. He always told her not to bother with that. Nobody mended clothes anymore, he would say. They were so inexpensive. He could just buy more. But, she liked doing it. Her mother had always mended her children's clothes and, besides, the money they saved could go to buying her some new panties, although that wasn't necessarily true. Some of her panties were rather expensive. Walter was terribly generous when it came to her panties. She had so many pairs that she had to have an extra dresser just for them. Some wives have a special closet for shoes. Joanna had a special dresser for all of her panties. Of course, she did other things than simply mend his clothes. She might make good use of her time by working on an extra special dessert for that evening (although she always liked to say that she not only provided the dessert, she was the dessert), getting his clothes ready for the next day, or mixing up some fresh potpourri. She liked to make potpourri herself rather than purchase some factory package. Martha Stewart provided particularly wonderful recipes for lovely, fresh potpourri. Joanna liked her lavender recipe, consisting of 1 cup English Lavender flowers, 1/2 cup marjoram leaves, 1 tablespoon Thyme leaves, 1 tablespoon Mint leaves, 1 tablespoon Orris Root powder, 2 teaspoons ground Coriander, 1/2 teaspoon ground Cloves, and a few drops of Lavender Oil. Joanna would of course put a little bag of the lavender in the dryer with the sheets and linen. That always gave them such a fresh outdoors scent. But, back to the waiting for Walter to come home. Joanna didn't always know for sure when Walter would arrive, and when she heard him coming up the driveway she would drop whatever she was doing and rush to the door, to be able to open it for him or at least be there when he opened the door so the first thing he would see would be his lovely, expectant, cheerfully smiling wife. But on some occasions he would not be alone. The most embarrassing time was probably when he arrived with his boss, Mr. Drithers. Mr. Drither's wife was apparently out of town and Walter convinced him to come to his house for some fine home cooking. Joanna wouldn't mind. But, she was certainly embarrassed to open the door and have Mr. Drithers standing there, seeing her naked body wrapped in Saran Wrap. She had done that on impulse, having seen it on Fried Green Tomatoes, a movie to which she had to drag Walter with the promise that she would take care of him during the movie, but that's another story for another time. He didn't like the movie but he thought the cellophane idea was pretty cute. He did love body stockings. In any case, there she was, at the door, her breasts squeezed and crushed against her body by the Saran Wrap, but still fully visible, her cunnie lips also equally evident through the sheer plastic wrap. Camel toe in tight panties is one thing, but it's quite a bit more when its tightly wrapped Saran Wrap camel toe. Joanna gasped in shock at the sight of Mr. Drithers standing there, his eyes bugging out. She covered her breasts and cunnie with her hands, and then tried to scurry off to the kitchen to unwrap herself, covering her bottom as she clumsily departed. However, she had wrapped her body all the way down to her ankles and could only take short little geisha steps. She was quite humiliated at the time, but they all had a good laugh about it over dinner, particularly when she asked Mr. Drithers if he would like her to wrap up some dessert for him. In any case, today she was in her light blue nightie and panties, thigh high nylons, and high heels and, fortunately, Walter was alone. "Honey," she gushed as she opened the door, briefly exposing herself to anyone that might be walking down the sidewalk, or looking in their direction through a neighbor's window. Neither of which though appeared to have occurred, so she just acted nonchalant as she handed him his cocktail (Bombay Sapphire gin, straight up, dry, two olives), gathered his hat and jacket, and ushered him inside. "My goodness," he gleefully replied and, once again was reminded of what a wonderful wife he had. "Aren't we looking special today, Peaches." "Oh honey, pish posh," Joanna replied. "I didn't want to get my good things dirty so I just threw something on while I cleaned." As she pattered over to the closet, her heels clicking on the hard wood floor, she looked back to see him admiring her swinging pantied bottom. She was always so pleased when he enjoyed her prettiness. "I was doing the dusting this afternoon, and I just felt it was best to avoid getting anything on a nice dress." The first part was true, but she always wore casual wear when she cleaned, sometimes even sweats. She did make one demand of Walter, and that was to warn her if he was coming home early. She never liked it when he arrived too early for her to be prepared, and so she knew it was safe to dress down during the afternoon when he was at work. "I can't imagine you dusting in that," he replied skeptically, but he did indeed imagine it, and imagined it must have been a pretty sexy site. "Oh don't be silly, it's nothing really." She hung up his hat and coat, scampered back to him, her boobies jiggling and wiggling beneath her nightie as she did, took him by the hand, and gave him a big welcome-home kiss. He pulled her soft, supple body to his, his free hand grasping tightly her firm round bottom, and kissed her deeply, fondly, lovingly. He so much loved this woman. He could not ever imagine having a better wife. But, Joanna pushed him away. Dessert always tasted best when it was at the end of a long, delicious meal. She took him by the hand and led him to the den, to his favorite easy chair, where she sat him down, lifted his feet upon the ottoman, kneeled down beside him, and undid his shoes. "Was it a difficult day for you, honey?" He shook his head. "You don't know the half of it." Joanna stopped for a moment to look at him. "Well, you did have a nice lunch, didn't you, dear?" "Yes, yes, I suppose I did. Violet in fact was very considerate today." Joanna pinched his foot and scolded him. "Oh don't be so silly." But, then she got serious, as Walter had said in seriousness that his day had been difficult. "But, my goodness, sweetie, did something go wrong?" Walter proceeded to explain to her all the little annoyances and frustrations of the day, how his secretary had misplaced a file, how his boss, Mr. Drithers, moved up to today for when he needed the TCR reports, and how traffic had been so miserable. Joanna listened carefully throughout, nodding sympathetically, massaging the weariness away from his feet, and expressing throughout her feelings of sympathy and understanding. He did eventually calm down, feeling comfortable and at peace in the bosom of his home. It was safe now to finish up dinner. She put on his slippers so that his feet would not get cold and excused herself. After she left, Walter absentmindedly fondled the erection he had developed upon his arrival, still thinking about his pretty and sexy wife. Yet, this was so typical. More often than not he became erect in the presence of Joanna. She had a way of drawing that out of him. But, he really shouldn't do anything about that now. The evening had only just begun. He sat back in his chair, nursed the martini, gazed at the fire Joanna had made, and contemplated what a lucky man he was. Walter Kresky's Loving Wife After some time had passed, long after he had finished his martini, he pulled himself out of the chair and made his way to the kitchen. Joanna was just about finished with dinner. It would be his favorite: mushroom soup, leg of lamb, brussels sprouts simmered with bacon, and garlic mashed potatoes. And, if that was not enough, Joanna was now naked. Well, actually, that wasn't entirely true. She was wearing a red and white checkered apron that was tied around her waist and looped around her neck. As such, her modesty was well protected, at least from the front. From the side it was a different story, as the sides of her white round breasts were quite exposed. It was a quite titillating sight, so to speak, realizing that with just any little movement a tit could fall out. Or, alternatively, one could quite easily reach into the apron and grab hold of them both. Of course, she would get a bit upset about. After all, she was really quite busy getting the dinner table set up. The best view though was from behind. The apron did nothing to protect her there. The only clothing providing any coverage from behind were the two thick ties of the red and white checkered apron, hanging down across her white apple cheeks. There was really something quite appealing about one's wife in the kitchen, preparing dinner wearing only an apron. It was like two major animal hungers were being satisfied at the same time. In fact, it might be kind of nice to try eating dinner while having sex at the same time. He could feast on rump of Joanna while devouring his leg of lamb. As Walter approached her, however, Joanna turned and shook a big serving spoon at him, her boobies notably jiggling beneath the apron. "Now don't you get frisky, Walter, dinner's almost ready. We don't have time for any such hanky panky right now. You wouldn't want your dinner to get cold." Joanna had a good point. There was little worse than a cold dinner. But, still, he would have been willing to sacrifice dinner for a little funny business in the kitchen. It would have been rather nice to bend her over the sink in that apron, grabbing hold of her soft squishy milk bags as he fucked her from behind. Well, maybe he could do that after dinner, while she was washing dishes. That did actually make better sense. "Well, I am mighty hungry," he replied, "and I do love a good leg of lamb. Call me when it's ready," he instructed and retreated back to the den. It wasn't terribly much longer when she arrived to escort him to dinner. She had though changed her outfit once again. This time she was wearing her waitress costume. She wore a short light blue skirt, a white blouse with a rounded collar and puffy short sleeves, light blue thigh high nylons (the tops of the nylons quite evident beneath the very short skirt), and a large light blue bow tie. And, of course, high heels (they were even light blue). She was again wearing an apron, this time blue and white checkered and, more importantly, it only covered her from the waist down. Its "waist band" was misnamed as was not actually at her waist. The checkered shoulder straps did come down either side of each breast (pushed out to the side by each breast) but the waist band went along just beneath her breasts. Most importantly, the three middle buttons of her blouse were undone and pulled well apart and tucked beneath the straps so that her light blue plunging brassiere covered breasts were jutting out. With the tight fit of her apron straps and waist band, along with the top and fourth buttons of her blouse still buttoned, the impression she gave was that her breasts had literally burst through her buttons and were bounding out of her blouse, like escaped balloons. It was a really wonderful way to wear a blouse, as it covered everything that didn't matter and revealed the only things that did matter: her bulging boobs, thrusting out from her chest in two tight light blue cups of feminine lace. "Honey, your tits are so fantastic." "Do you really think so, dear?" She proudly thrust them out even further, if that was actually possible. "They're perfect." "Oh sweetie, I so much like it when you tell me that." Dinner was very nice, particularly with his wife so provocatively dressed. Walter especially liked it when she was serving him. They would normally just pass dishes back and forth, but Joanna wanted to take full advantage of her outfit. You don't get all dressed up and not show it off. So, whenever he wanted some potatoes, or more vegetables, she brought the dish over to him, like a waitress should, and bent over for him to scoop out what he wanted; well, almost anything he wanted. Walter resisted the urge to give her breasts a little squeeze, but he would invariably pat and fondle Joanna's pantied bottom beneath her short skirt, just to express his appreciation for such a fine meal and her considerate behavior. Joanna didn't mind. If only all waitresses were so receptive to such sincere expresses of appreciation. A wife is always pleased and happy when her hubby so obviously enjoys his meal. Compliments and pats on the bottom are certainly very clear signs, but they can be as readily faked as a woman's orgasm (not that Joanna ever faked any; well, perhaps a few, when it looked like it would mean a lot to Walter). What is perhaps most convincing to a wife though are the second helpings and, this evening, Walter had up to three servings of some dishes. Of course, a few times he took very, very small helpings, just so that she would have to come back to serve him some more, and he could again fondle, squeeze, and pat that equally deliciously rump of Joanna. By the time he was done with desert (peach pie, naturally) he felt too full to have sex, contrary to his original plan. Plus, there was in fact a big game on tonight. The Livingston Scholars were playing Templeton. That was always a big game. It was only basketball. It wasn't football. But it was still a very significant and important rivalry. It was only on ESPN's secondary channel and was only being provided regional distribution. But, still, Livingston athletics were very rarely on television. It was part of ESPN's small college rivalry week. "Honey," Joanna warned toward the end of dinner, "You better get ready for your ball game. It's going to start soon." "Oh, that's alright. It's no big deal. I'll help you clear the table and clean up." "Oh don't be so silly, Walter. That's a woman's job. Now you get in there and root for our Scholars. We don't want to lose to Templeton again, do we?" Livingston very rarely beat Templeton in basketball. Walter smiled. He was quite willing to help pick up after dinner, but he really didn't want to miss any of the game. Livingston had to get off to a good start if they were going to have any chance of winning, and this might be their best year for an upset. They were starting four seniors, whereas Templeton was clearly rebuilding. "Thanks dear," he said, and gave her a peck on the cheek and a pat on the bottom as he prepared to leave for the family room. "What did I do to deserve you?" he pondered out loud. "Oh, I can think of a few things," Joanna replied, squeezing his stiff dick through his slacks. She was in fact quite happy to notice that he was so visibly aroused. There is perhaps nothing more reinforcing for a wife then to see her husband with an erection. It's really better than flowers, a new dress, or even expensive lingerie. "I'll be there in a second. Now, run long." It was her turn to give him a pat on the bottom. Walter proceeded to the family room and settled down on the couch in front of the television. He was justly rewarded. The Scholars did get off to a good start and he was there to see it. It was indeed a very exciting game, and not one in which he wanted any distractions. It is striking how some wives just don't appreciate how important a sporting event can be. Right in the middle of some intense action, perhaps the turning point of the game (although sports announcers seem to suggest that most any time during the game is a potential turning point) they might want to discuss how distant their sister has lately seemed, whether their husband thinks they've gained some weight, or how come they don't go out as often as they used to. Joanna interrupted the game, but for a good reason. She entered the room carrying a large, hot metal cookie sheet, filled with tortilla chips fresh from the oven, upon which was melted a considerable amount of shredded cheddar cheese. Balanced on the corner of the sheet was a bowl of sliced hot peppers. Hot tortilla chips with melted cheese and hot peppers was always an outstanding accompaniment to a sporting event, but perhaps so was the missus herself, as she was now dressed in her blue and white Livingston Scholars cheerleader outfit, which she often wore when he was watching sports. But, her uniform though was not regulation Scholars cheerleader. She did have the right colors, the hair scrunchies were regulation, and her pigtails were a nice touch. However, the top was really low plunging, revealing quite a bit of cleavage, even for a cheerleader. Walter did like how "Scholars" was widely stretched across her breasts, a rather incongruous exclamation. What was most problematic though, at least for a Livingston regulation outfit, was that the top didn't make it entirely over her breasts, as the bottom of them were peeking out from beneath. If Joanna pulled the top down it could loop under her breasts and completely cover the bottoms of her boobs, but then her boobs might just pop out the top. And, besides, she couldn't just keep pulling on the top. So, she just let it take its natural course, which was to ride up and expose the soft, round underbelly of her boobs, a sort of reverse cleavage that was really very sweet to the eye. The blue and white striped skirt was comparably short. In the front it hid her panties only if she remained motionless; otherwise, she would be liable to reveal a peek of the little pink cup of her cunnie. And, Joanna was not one to stand still. From behind, even standing still her pink pantied bottom was peeking out. It was like she had purchased a skirt that was a couple of sizes too small, yet was not really aware of the fact. "Are we winning?" Joanna asked as she bent over, way over, to set the tray of tortilla chips and cheese on the coffee table. The top of her breasts seemed to almost spill out of her top. Yes, Joanna, like most wives, could be quite a distraction but a very pleasant distraction, even during one of the biggest games of the year. "Hey, yea, well, um...yes, but not by much. C'mon, sit down here with me and enjoy the game. It's really exciting!" "Just a second, honey," she replied. "You'll need a beer to wash down those peppers." "Oh yea, hey, thanks," Walter replied, glancing back at the game, but only momentarily, as the sight of his wife's sashaying bottom was so pleasant to view as she retreated back to the kitchen to retrieve a drink for him. By the time she had returned Templeton had regained the lead, and Walter was feeling discouraged. He was always discouraged when he watched Livingston sports. Only if they were ahead by 15 points with a minute left would he relax. He recalled how Templeton scored 10 points in just one minute to win the game in 2002. He almost broke the television when he tossed a beer at it. Fortunately he missed. That was a rather embarrassing loss of self-control, but Joanna understood. It can be so frustrating at times! Joanna could see the dismay and tension within his eyes. As she poured his beer into a frosted mug (it was a porter, his favorite) she asked, "Goodness, honey, it isn't going badly, is it?" "That coach Ryan just has no sense of offense. It's all defense with him. We can't score worth shit." After she laid the cold fresh beer down on the coffee table she turned to consider the game. Joanna did in fact know basketball pretty well, and she knew that indiscriminate expressions of confidence and assurance would not cheer Walter up. What he needed was a comrade in arms, someone who also appreciated the trouble, the danger, and would be there with him to the end. She began to yell at the screen, "C'mon you bastards, move that fucking ball up the court!" She was punching the air with her fist, jumping up and down, screaming at the players to hustle, to get the fucking glue off their fucking feet, to smash the damn boards, to check that asshole hard, and shoot the butt fucking ball! It was a really nice couple of hours. It was a very exciting game, and so much fun to share it with Joanna. Even better perhaps than with the guys. She was a great cheerleader. She was certainly as active and boisterous as one. And, far more lascivious. Joanna would jump, scream, punch the air with her pom poms, and even do a few cheers during the commercial breaks. She wasn't a very skillful cheerleader, but she had taken the time to learn a few cheers. "Clap your hands!" She clapped three times. "Stomp your feet!" She stopped her left, her right, and then her left foot again. It wasn't much of a cheer, but her breasts were really bouncing around beneath her top. She picked up the pompoms and alternately thrust out each one, at each syllable, cheering, "Scholars can't be beat!" Her bobbling breasts wriggled around, kind of following the lead of the pompoms, but adding their own fascinating twists, wobbles, and wiggles, like they had a life of their own. Walter's dick twitched instinctively. Joanna yelled while dropping down on one knee. "Go blue, go white!" There was again more bouncing and bobbling. Walter had to wonder if the cheer was designed to bring breasts expressively into the routine, highlighting their importance to generating fan spirit. Joanna added, shifting to the other knee, "Come on team you can do it!" She leapt back up onto her feet and then went down into splits, her breasts bobbling mightily, "Just put some power to it!" And, while throwing both hands up in the air, she finished, "Goooooooo Scholars!" They might be losing the game, but they were going down with the full support of their fans. It was particularly fun when Joanna would try to distract a Templeton player at the free-throw line by lifting up her top and shaking her titties at him. One time she even stuck her butt at the television screen, bent over, pulled down her panties, and spread her cheeks, challenging him to give it to her with nothing but net. The funniest part is that it did seem to work. The Templeton player missed both free throws. Walter swore that if Livingston won the game by just a couple of points he would take her out for dinner the next night. Livingston, of course, did lose, but Walter would still take her out the next night. She gave him a big hug and kiss for that. He needed it as he was feeling a bit dejected. He always felt a bit down after a Livingston loss, even though these losses did seem rather inevitable. It made it a lot worse to be the first Livingston game in years to be televised, if only regionally. As Joanna took the tray of remaining chips and peppers back to the kitchen she reminded him that one of his favorite shows was about to start: "The Girls Next Door." The Girls Next Door would invariably cheer him up. It was a silly premise. He knew that. It had always been a pipe dream of Playboy that the playmates were just like girls next door, albeit ones with big tits. But, any reasonable person had to appreciate how true it was that Bridget, and even Holly, were very much like girls next door. Walter really liked Bridget. He was though losing interest in the show, ever since it became known that Hefner wasn't going to marry Holly. He had figured that the climax of the show would be their marriage, and it had seemed that Holly had always expected that herself. But, it wasn't to be. The episode tonight was a repeat but that wasn't so bad as it was the one that concerned Bridget's photoshoot. Walter really liked that episode. Seeing it as it was broadcast on TV wasn't as good as it appeared on the DVD as the latter wasn't censored, but it was striking how even weakly censored was the broadcast version. It wasn't long before Walter forgot about the game. He would remember it the next morning but for now it wasn't on his mind. It helped that Joanna went upstairs to change once again. She came back down in a new outfit, one obviously befitting the show: her playboy bunny costume. It wasn't regulation Playboy bunny. Surprisingly Playboy didn't offer bunny costumes for sale. They had lots of other costumes (nurse, cop, witch, maid, referee) but no bunny. She had to get one from a lingerie website. But, it did at least have the pink strapless body suit with a built in, deep cleavage, push-up Wonderbra and, of course, a fluffy white bunny tail and pointy, floppy ears. The suit naturally rode up in the bottom, exposing the bottom of her white cheeks through the black fishnet stockings (which she had to provide herself, along with the black high heels), as well as being a bit small in the front, exposing a bit of her white vaginal flesh. Walter found it to be a wonderful accompaniment to the show, as if a bunny had in fact left the television to join him in real life. Whatever failures in authenticity existed in the costume he did not notice. He was just so proud of his wife that she could put together a costume that was so very close to the real thing. He smiled as he realized that in this regard his wife was just like Bridget, on the show, who was really into making outstanding costumes and outfits for various occasions. Plus, this bunny provided him with a lap dance. Walter enjoyed a good lap dance. He didn't go to clubs terribly often. He didn't have a reason to go to a club with a wife like Joanna, although he would at times partake in the novelty of the experience, if he needed to entertain a client. His job at times depended on a well-entertained client. Joanna didn't mind. But, she did provide a pretty darned good lap dance herself, and she was far more reliable than the girls he would hire at clubs. Going to a club could be a tricky exercise. Walter would get rushed by a number of girls, most of whom would not provide a particularly good dance. Some might not have make contact with his body. Walter referred to them as "air dances." Joanna would begin with what is perhaps the most common lap dance position: her bottom pressed against his crotch, her hands propping herself up by holding onto his spread thighs. As Walter watched Bridget pose for her photoshoot, Joanna rubbed and rotated her soft, squishy bottom cheeks against his stiff dick. It was a difficult choice for his eyes: the irrepressibly engaging Bridget, her so large boobs jutting out from her chest, or the tight little tush of his wife. Actually, it wasn't really a contest, particularly as Joanna's taut bottom, upon which was perched the cute little bunny tail, was wiggling and writhing against his hard dick. Walter wondered if the early Playboy clubs provided lap dances. Probably not, but one never knew what happened in the grottos and caverns of the clubs. Joanna did enjoy so much giving Walter a lap dance. There was something both innocent and naughty about lap dances. It reminded her of when she was young, dry humping with a boyfriend, not being quite ready yet to go all the way, or even to be naked together. But, they could make at least some contact through their clothes, rubbing their sex parts against each other, the intensely intimate friction making her feel so aroused, so excited. She particularly liked it when she wrapped his thigh tightly within her own, which she did now, turning to face Walter, sitting on just one of his legs, pressing her breasts against his face, his face pressed into her plunging cleavage, scrunching and squirming her cunt against his thigh. Walter Kresky's Loving Wife Like a good lap dance recipient Walter knew better than to touch the dancer. It was against house rules. He could only sit there passively while she slid and grinded her so very hot cunt against his thigh. He could though feel the heat of her cunt escaping through the gusset of her costume, perhaps even a bit of moisture as well. A man so much enjoys witnessing his wife becoming aroused and that often can take some work. At the moment, however, Walter only needed his leg for that, as his wife was humping and grinding against it like a bitch dog in heat. Many a dancer at a club had done that for him, with him, but none with as much sincerity and earnestness as Joanna. When she was younger Joanna would rarely get so obviously raunchy in her dry humping with a date, although at times it did get to comparable points, at which time they would stop, or one of them would get off. Surprisingly so the boy would often be the one to call it quits, not wanting to cum in his pants and leave an obvious wet stain. She would not have that problem, at least not as seriously, and she could often bring herself to a trembling, quivering climax. But, not tonight. She wasn't ready, yet. She slid off her husband's thigh, indeed leaving a bit of a wet stain on his slacks. But, she didn't move far. She sat right back down on him, this time entirely on his lap, her knees on either side of him, bring her hot, moist gusset to his erection, so they could more properly dry hump. This is how Walter really liked his lap dance, where the girl was actually grinding her soft cunt on his erection. It was the closest to actually having sex one could obtain in a lap dance, one in which she was grinding and gyrating on his cock just like she would if it was actually driven up inside her, clearly driving her crazy as she thrust and humped his erect dick. It was this way that Walter would often cum at a strip club. The physical intensity of the intimate friction against his cock, coupled with the visual spectacle of her humping on his lap, her boobs wiggling just inches from his eyes, was always just too much for him. He much preferred to cum when the girl was applying her lips to his bulge, but only managed to do so once. The girls usually pulled away too quickly for that. Still, the one time it did happen the stripper had stayed there, smiling as she felt his cock twitch in his loose slacks, kissing him as she felt the moisture seeping through the cloth. He so much wanted to have this girl again, in a future visit to the club, but she apparently left and, of course, he never knew her real name. Joanna leaned forward, wrapped her arms around him, squeezed his face against her breasts, and whispered into his ear, "Would you like a happy ending, sir?" "Yes, yes," Walter gasped. He would indeed, closing his eyes and thrusting his crotch against her cunt. "Well, we can't do that here," Joanna replied, pulling away from her husband, crawling off his lap. "You really should reserve such a thing for your wife," she playfully scolded him. Walter smiled ruefully. His wife could at times be such a scamp. But she was right. He really should only do this with his wife. He could play along. "Yes, perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should go home." As Joanna got to her feet, her legs a bit wobbly, she said, "Well, I imagine she will be upstairs, in bed, waiting for you. But, give her a little time to get ready, won't you?" "Absolutely," he replied. "Don't take too long though, okay?" "It'll be worth the wait," she said, and scampered off, the little bunny tail swinging back and forth as she departed. Walter noticed that he had missed the rest of The Girls Next Door. Yet, he didn't mind, not at all. He filled the remaining time before he came to bed by picking and cleaning up the family room, putting away the dishes Joanna had washed earlier, taking the garbage out, locking the doors, and turning off the lights. It had been a pretty nice day, and he looked forward to going to bed, albeit he knew that his wife had one last play in store for him. He wondered what costume she would be wearing as he brushed his teeth and prepared for bed. When he arrived in the bedroom he discovered that she had no costume at all, which wasn't disappointing as she was entirely naked. Well, entirely naked if handcuffs didn't count as clothing, and he supposed they didn't. Her ankles were handcuffed to the bedposts at the foot of the bed, her wrists to the posts at the top. She was a very fetching sight, her breasts thrusting up from her prone body, her legs fully spread, her cunt open for his amusement and pleasure, and a pouting, plaintive expression on her pretty face. "You won't take advantage of me now, will you, Walter?" Walter paused to ponder the situation. It isn't too often that a woman's body is provided to you in such a fashion. What would a man do if he came upon a woman handcuffed to a bed, naked? Of course, any man with a halfway decent moral conscience would cover her up and then try to remove the cuffs. But, he would think of something else as he did so. He had to at least think about it, to contemplate it. And certainly that mental image of her when he first came upon her body would be seared into his mind, his memory, and his subsequent fantasy. It would be so nice if the woman might consider rewarding him for his gallantry, for his gentlemanly respect, for rescuing her, by reproducing the fantasy for him at some later time. Well, fortunately, there were no guilt feelings, no ambivalence, no moral questions here. This was his wife, Joanna, offering herself willingly to be taken this way, to be taken any way he wanted. Her body now truly belonged to him. He began to take off his clothes, smiling down at his wanton wife, her breasts rising and falling with her passion, her glazed eyes revealing her lust, as well as her apprehension at what he might now do, now that she had no actual choice in the matter. She couldn't use the key to unlock herself even if she wanted to. It was a bit tricky getting the last cuff to lock around her wrist, not being able to use her other hand to help engage the lock. But once it was done and she was firmly locked into place, she flung the key onto the bedroom floor with a flick of her wrist. "Do you see the key, honey?" She certainly didn't want to lose that. It would be rather embarrassing to call "Pic-a-lock" for something like this. Walter considered teasing her a bit, pretending that he couldn't find the key. But, he didn't want to be cruel or anything. "It's right there," he replied, nodding toward the floor as he removed his shirt and laid it on a chair. "Now, you'll be gentle, won't you, dear?" Joanna asked, with a degree of unease and concern in her voice, although her heart was now racing with excitement. She so much enjoyed their little games. Walter removed his pants and boxers, his stiff cock popping out, ready to attack its treasure. Joanna's eyes widened with lust and delight. She so much liked Walter's cock. It was so steely stiff and hard. The big purple bulb was so swollen it glistened and shined. Her pussy felt so hot, so wet, and she instinctively squirmed in the bed. When Walter was fully naked he approached his prone wife, smiling broadly, and lustfully, his erect cock bobbing and waving with each step. He came to the foot of the bed to get the full effect of her spread and prostrate presentation. Joanna found her husband's leering, ogling stare to be somewhat disconcerting. She pulled on the cuffs, demonstrating her helplessness, her powerlessness. He climbed onto the bed, his stiff dick pointing the way. Joanna instinctively cringed and drew back, as best she could, which wasn't much. A man's cock is such a vivid, concrete, and undeniable symbol of his power, his authority, a staff one must honor and obey. It appears as and is indeed a weapon, a bludgeon, a battering ram which will assault her body, penetrate her, drive itself up inside her with such force, lust, and passion. Walter positioned himself above Joanna, lying above her, his dick stretching across her abdomen like a dangerous spear. He leaned down, to kiss her. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips. But they burst wide open when she suddenly realized. He was tickling her! She jumped, lurched, leaped, and twisted, desperately trying to escape the offending tips of his fingers. She so much hated to be tickled. Well, that wasn't really entirely true, is it? She was laughing and giggling hysterically. How could you hate to laugh so hard? But it was in fact driving her crazy. "Walter! Please! Please! Stop! Stop that! Oh my gosh!" But he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't even pause, hesitate, or slow down. He just kept tickling her under both arms in a frenzy of wiggling, squiggling, flickering finger tips, enjoying the sight of his wife's manic merriment, her tits jiggling in epileptic fury. Tears were flowing from her eyes, her lungs struggling to keep up with her giggling and cackling cacophony. But, he did eventually stop. He didn't want to be cruel. He even allowed her to catch her breath, to regain control of herself, which wasn't easy, as there were a few more little stuttering giggles and twitching paroxysms before her body was back to normal, or at least reasonably close to normal when you have been repeatedly aroused throughout the evening, coming close to an orgasm at least once. And, Walter didn't help by sliding down his wife's body to bring his lips to her budding clit. He nibbled and suckled on it like he was a starved puppy at his mother's teat. Joanna had not been expecting that. She had been expecting to be taken forcefully, violently, and without consideration. Instead, it was Walter servicing her, as she had done for him that morning. It was in some respects quite similar. Walter enjoyed doing this for Joanna as much as she enjoyed doing it for him. He was also good at it, although probably not quite as good as her. Of course, though, how could you ever really test that. A number of times they had serviced each other at the same time, racing to see who came first. It was always Walter. So, if that was a fair competition Joanna was the consistent winner. In other respects it was though quite different from this morning. Joanna was trapped, whereas he could have gotten up any time he wanted. It might not seem like a big difference, but when one actually experiences being handcuffed at four corners the distinction becomes quite palpable. And Walter took full advantage of it. "Do you like that, Peaches?" he asked. "Oh yes, yes, honey," Joanna gasped. "You're so, so good to me." "I do adore my Peach's peach pie," he teased, as he returned his lips to her clit. "Honey, please," she giggled, feigning embarrassment at his crass reference. As he continued to suck and nibble on her clit he brought a finger to her peach, slowly sliding it up and down her slippery wet soft slit, exploring, examining, and prospecting for her buried treasure. He knew, of course, precisely where it lay hidden, deep down in her fleshy crevice, but the hunt was as rewarding as the treasure, particularly when he reached the gate and finally burrowed his way in. Joanna gasped and thrust her breasts up into the air with the feel of Walter's finger digging and screwing its way into her pussy as he continued to nibble so delightfully on her clit. She so much enjoyed how he nursed her nub, as he had learned precisely how she liked it most. "Oh Walter," she whimpered, wanting so much to grasp hold of his head to press it into her cunt, to squeeze his face with her thighs as he chewed and munched her button. "Walter, so nice, so very, very lovely." Walter continued for sometime to gently finger his wife's cunt, eventually getting two fingers up inside, flickering and twisting them in her cunt as he drew them in and out, all the while nibbling and diddling her clit with his lips and tongue, pressing down hard against Joanna's button, the way she found so very stimulating, so very thrilling. He eventually worked in a third finger, wiggling all three fingers around and around inside of her as if they were frightened and frantic little snakes, trying to burrow their way deep down inside, at times though pulling them back out, his wiggly fingers protesting all the way as they were withdrawn from their warm, wet, squishy home. The sound a hot wet swollen cunt makes when there are three fingers forcing their way in and out is really quite obscene. Perhaps many women would have felt an understandable impulse to cover their faces in embarrassment over the profane, lewd, and salacious noises they were making with their cunts, but even if she did feel that way Joanna could not, her wrists being held tightly to the bedposts. She was captive to her husband's fingers' lascivious play, and her face grew beet red, not with shame but with arousal and lust. Joanna was in fact gasping and writhing on the bed, feeling herself getting so close but wanting so much more, beads of sweat forming on her heaving, jiggling breasts, her face contorted with frustrated lust. "Walter, please, something bigger, please." Walter stopped, and lifted his face from his wife's cunt, albeit keeping his fingers lodged deep inside her cunt, replacing his lips with his thumb, which now only gently massaged his wife's terribly swollen clit as he spoke to her. "Something larger, my dear? What could that possibly be?" Joanna looked down across her naked, squirming body at her husband kneeling between her spread legs, his erect cock pointing up so tall before him. "You know what I want, dear. Please, please let me have it." "But, honey, I don't understand. You must tell me, clearly." It was another little game they played at times. Joanna had no difficulty at all saying what she wanted, but it was fun to pretend that she did. "Please honey. Oh!" she squealed at the sudden thrill of his thumb flickering her clit. Her breasts were heaving so hard, but she implored Walter, "Please don't make me say it. It's so embarrassing, so shameful." "But, honey, I'm sorry, if you don't say clearly what you want, you can not expect me to be able to provide it. Is it a banana you would like?" "Oh my goodness, no!" "Perhaps a cucumber?" "Walter, how could you suggest such a thing?! My goodness!" Actually, one evening she had offered, if not asked, Walter to apply the contents of the entire fruit dish to her, into her. He ate a lot of fruit that evening. "Well, perhaps then a cola bottle?" "Walter! That's so shameful! No, no, you're penis, of course. There, I said it! Your penis." Walter smiled. "Penis? Honey, that sounds so clinical, so medical. Is that really what you want?" Joanna looked away from him, feigning embarrassment and shame. She said more softly, "Your cock. I want your cock, dearest. I want your big, hard, stiff cock." "That's much better, dear. Now I understand, and it wasn't so hard, was it?" She turned her face back to him. "But, it's so shameful to speak that way." He so much enjoyed this play. "Well, you must do more than just say it, dear." "What? What do mean?" she asked, feigning considerable confusion and apprehension. Walter crawled up the bed, over her body, on his hands and knees, his erect dick thrusting out beneath him like a stallion, a buck, approaching a mate. But, he was well past the more natural, usual goal for the cock. "Honey, what are you doing? Where are you going with that?" He didn't say anything. He just kept slowing moving up Joanna's body, his swollen, erect cock looking bigger and bigger as it got closer and closer, the crown looking inflamed, perhaps even angry, in its swollen shiny redness. "Please, honey, no, I really shouldn't, couldn't, do anything like that," Joanna exclaimed, pretending to now finally know where he was going, what he was intending. "It'll be fine honey. It will be just fine," he said as his cock finally arrived at the desired target: his wife's sweet pursed red lips. "Now, be a good girl and open up your mouth." "Please, sweetie," she appealed one last time. "It's so shameful, so wrong. What would my mother say? Your mother." She looked so endearing with her large pleading pretty blue eyes, looking up at him in such desperation. Walter pressed the head of his cock against his wife's tightly closed lips. "I don't imagine I'll tell them, honey. Will you?" She just shook her head, continuing her feigned protest but thereby rubbing her lips back and forth against his penis, his cock. Walter pressed forward and his wife slowly received his dick into her mouth. "Mmmph," she groaned, protesting the intrusion, squeezing her eyes shut, and grimacing as her husband lodged the swollen crown of his cock inside her mouth. Walter pushed in deeper and then pulled back, repeating these movements over and over, slowly drawing his cock in and out of her mouth, essentially fucking his wife's face. "Use your tongue, honey," he firmly instructed Joanna. Joanna almost smiled with delight, and amusement, breaking out of character, but she restrained herself. Like she really needed to be told to use her tongue! Plus, she so much enjoyed licking and lapping away at her husband's sweet tasting cock. Well, maybe it wasn't really sweet, but in spirit, for Joanna, it certainly was. There is something uniquely pleasurable about oral sex this way, to be lying above her prone face, fucking her mouth in a manner that one might fuck her cunt. It was truly an expression on her part to be taken in all ways possible, in all ways he preferred or desired. Of course, there were many other ways to be taken, but letting him fuck her face was a singular gesture of considerable affection, adoration, and devotion, as well as trust. In this position, he could readily fuck her in the throat, causing her to gag, cough, and perhaps even retch. But, Walter loved Joanna as well, and would never do that, certainly not intentionally, but at times he would make brief contact with her throat, stimulating a momentary cough or gag. Accidents will happen. And, it was such a pretty sight, watching his cock slide in and out of Joanna's so very pretty face. He could and would come quickly fucking her this way, particularly when Joanna kept using her tongue on his slippery swollen plum, trying to draw his cum out from his cock so that she could taste it, drink it, digest it, perhaps even to shoot it directly into the back of her throat, where she would have to rapidly swallow before she choked on it. Walter removed his now wet, glistening cock with a pop from his wife's mouth. Admiring its sight towering across her grinning face, spittle dripping down her cheek, he pronounced, "Well, I think you deserve it now, Peaches." "You're so good to me, sweetie," she replied. He slid back down to the foot of the bed and positioned his cock at the entrance to her cunt. He hesitated a bit, admiring the sight of the bulb planted in the furrow, being kissed by those so fleshy hot lips. "Don't tease me, dear," Joanna implored, pulling on the cuffs, "Please give it to me now, Walter. I want it. I need it so much!" Walter was all for pleasing his wife and with one strong smooth move he shoved his cock deep up into his wife's tight, clenching, quivering cunt. "Mmmmmmm," Joanna groaned in appreciation, gratefulness, and indebtedness, bringing her pelvis up to meet the plunge of her husband's cock down into her cunt. Finally, satisfaction after so much frustration, so much arousal. She thrust and ground her pelvis, her cunt, as best she could with her ankles and wrists held tightly to the posts of the bed, wanting so desperately to bring herself to climax. Walter was entirely in sync with his wife. They were very much in harmony, in accord, with one another, as they were indeed such a good match, such a good coupling. Walter felt even more need, more urgency, to explode, having been repeatedly stimulated throughout the evening, ever since he returned home from work, from her greeting him at the door in her nightie, cooking naked in her apron, serving him dinner in her opened waitress uniform, watching the ballgame with him in her cheerleading uniform, watching television with him in her bunny costume, and greeting him as he came to bed handcuffed naked to the posts.