Then there was another clutch of commercials, and Karen dragged herself together, her muscles screaming in protest. Halfway through the show, she had brought herself to a fountaining orgasm. Defensively, she blamed her action on her absent husband. He had been too distracted and too tired to take her for a month, or more. It was sickening, saddening, and worrying, this lack of interest of his. It was leaving her horny and vulnerable to anything.
Unwilling to soil her wrapper, Karen got to her feet and walked naked to the bathroom to wipe herself clean. In a few minutes she was back. Her unbound hair trailed in tangled strings to her naked shoulders. Flopping down on the couch, she tried to lose herself in the game show and the problem of combing her shoulder-length hair.
The only trouble with losing herself in the game was that it reminded her of what she had just done. Just the sight of Peter Sandier got her all hot and bothered again. Her pussy was still drizzling stinging remnants of come. The master of ceremonies smiled into the camera, and her twat tightened hungrily. She was still horny! This wanton wickedness sickened her, but it wouldn't let her rest, either. She was horny. And the prizes were getting bigger and bigger. She was getting more and more excited, more and more aroused.
She was still naked. Her breasts rose and shifted as her arms moved, combing out her drying hair. The girl on the show might as well have been naked, the way her titties jiggled and thrust against her sweater. The girl looked like she was creaming her pants as the lead changed hands over and over, and the flashing numbers got bigger and bigger.
It was the last question, and Karen held her breath. She stopped combing her hair and absently let the shivering detangler rest in her lap. The butt of the machine pressed her pussy and her clit awakened to the shivering, shaking, buzzing. Hot waves of electricity flickered through Karen.
The girl jumped up and shouted the right answer. The flashing lights of the elaborate set erupted. The contestant began hugging everyone in sight. Karen ground the shivering handle of the electric comb into her burning crotch. The girl on the TV kept her hips demurely away from whoever she was hugging until she grabbed the show's host. Then, just before the camera cut away, she thrust her hips hard against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was wearing a short skirt, which was very rumpled. What had been going on behind the podium during the game?
There was a commercial. Karen shivered as she kept boring the thick, rounded handle of the electric comb into her aching snatch. She spread her thighs, and ground the blunt tool against ha cunt, wedged it between her pussy lips. She felt the vibrations drill through her body as she twisted the handle of the comb against her twat.
For the first time, she thought of Peter Sandier naked, and was rocked to the core. She thought of what kind of cock he had. He would have a huge one, a monster, blunt bludgeon. It would thrust out from a thick black patch of fur. His lean body would be tan and hard.
She had just managed to rip her thoughts away from her mental infidelity when the commercials were over. Then something about the light and the way the master of ceremonies was standing brought back her imaginings full force. She had the impression of a huge cock painfully restricted by tightly-tailored pants.
Peter, she was starting to think of him on first-name basis now, had his arm around the petite contestant. His hand was gripping her trim waist. The lighting had changed so that the aroused peaks of her tits were invisible. For a second Karen thought she could see the faint shading of the girl's nipples, then decided it was a figment of her over-heated imagination.
Peter snuggled the girl to his side and explained about the huge wheel. His assistant, Shanda, posed beside the huge disk, and rested one hand on one of the four big pegs. The pie wedges of color were lighted from behind. One light of a ring of bulbs around the outside was on.
Karen had a sudden vision of someone a naked woman, spreadeagled on the monster wheel, hands and feet tied to the four pegs. The bright stage lighting gleaming off her naked skin, the wheel was turning and turning and turning. The lights were flashing around the outside, and the wedges of color behind the naked woman flickered on and off as the wheel turned.
That wasn't the way the game was played, of course. The wheel spun, and the lights flickered and danced the ones on the outside went in one direction, the wedges in the other as the wheel went around and around. The position of the lights when the wheel came to rest determined the prize.
The vibrations from the electric comb were burrowing through Karen. She was still sprawled naked on the couch. She was positive Peter was hung like a hone, and that he had a hard-on. He kept snuggling the girl against his side. One of her firm little titties nudged his arm as he pulled her close. His grip when he turned her to face the wheel was very intimate. At least that was how it looked to Karen. She imagined letting the man fondle her, very subtly, of course, while the gleaming lenses of the television cameras watched.
With her glittering, well-rehearsed smile, Shanda tugged down on the peg she had been holding. The wheel began to turn and the lights began to flicker on and off.
"Uhh!" Karen grunted as her hips jumped and shivered. She drove the blunt, quivering handle of the comb into her pussy. She felt her cunt being stretched, as it admitted the huge bulk. She glanced down in surprise, and squirmed excitedly when she realized she had at least an inch of the monster cylinder crammed into her streaming cunt. She shook her head, looked back at the television, and rammed the monster imitation, electrified pecker farther into her aching, straining, throbbing snatch.
The wheel was slowing gradually, the music was fading, and the flashing of the lights matched the diminishing pace. The girl was pressed tight to the master of ceremonies' side. Her tight little butt was wriggling with excitement as the moment of truth approached. Peter had let his hand slip don until it almost, but not quite, touched the smooth, tense roundness of her ass.
The wheel slowed still more. The drumming from the detangler seemed to get louder and louder. Karen felt as if she had a shivering telephone pole jammed up her twat. She was afraid to look down to see how much of the quivering comb she had crammed up her cunt. Instead, she focused on the building tension on the screen. What would the little bitch do if she won? Karen realized with a jolt that she was jealous of the girl. Jealous, mot because she was on television, but jealous because she was getting fondled by Peter Sandier.
The wheel slowed, the lights flickered. The wheel turned one notch farther, and the girl went mad. The studio lights flashed. The girl leaped at Peter Sandier and it was hard to see, but it looked as if she had scissored her legs around him, right there on television! Karen pumped the shuddering comb in and out of her fountaining cunt and rolled her head as she neared a second orgasm. It was more coming than she had done in the past month, this crazy two-time masturbation. Quivering and jerking and heaving, she thrust the electric comb up her crotch until she felt like she was being ripped in two. Spiking herself on the shuddering machine, she quivered and jerked in the throes of a searing coming.
She didn't come down from her peak until the last of the credits were creeping off the top of the screen. Then came the announcement about where to write if you wanted to be a contestant. Slowly and shakily, Karen drew the slick handle from her battered, abused snatch. With shivering fingers, she switched the comb off and slumped down.
She was sick about what she had done. She had been mentally unfaithful to Mark. She tried to pass it off as innocent fantasy, but her puritanical upbringing wouldn't let her. To be unfaithful in her mind was as bad as to actually go to bed with the handsome MC. The whole thing the greed, the money, the flashing lights, the crazy music it all seemed like a sick dream now. But the ache in her cunt, the wet sticky handle of the comb, the trickle of juices from her abused twat, were all very real.