Jack grimaced as though he had to wring the stuff from his aching nuts.
"God, I love how your cunt clings!"
I'm good! Wilma's mind roared in triumph. As good or better than any fucking cunt there is! I'll show him. I'll show Jack and his beautiful big cock how hot and tight my twat can be. I'll show Wanda too. She'll have to watch and wish and burn with envy!
"Ooooh! Fuck me, Jack!"
He couldn't hear. His heart beat like raging thunder in his ears. Bolts of liquid lightning spurted from his cock. He couldn't believe how snug and tight his wife's cunt had become… how it pulled and twisted and so forcefully milked his dick.
"You're the best!" he groaned. "Oh, God I love the way you fuck my big cock!"
"The best!" Wilma crooned. Then she smiled, wondering: Can you hear that, Wanda? Jack likes my cunt best! Better than yours, you horny bitch! Better than any!
"Ungh! Ungh! Aargh! I'm gonna fuck you full, pump your twat until it drips hot cream!"
"Oooh, Jack do it! Drown my twat. Make it bubble!" Her grinding climax began, and then Wilma could think of nothing else. She moaned and screamed, squirming beneath Jack's twat crushing weight. She pulled in a wild frenzy against the heavy cords that bound her wrists and set her tortured mind free at last.
When the last joyous shiver had passed when Wilma could breathe deeply, still trembling from the ecstatic thrill of complete release, she turned to the breath-fogged window and leered, letting Wanda see bow much she loved to wring the dripping length of lack's big cock.
But the fog of hot breath on the front window had cleared. Wanda wasn't there.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wanda turned and ran back to the car as soon as she saw Wilma's first shiver of approaching release. She could not stand to watch her stuffy, frigid twin sister enjoy sex for probably the first time in her life.
Just the thought of her husband's huge dick thrilling her twin's musty cunt made her own dripping hole seethe with envy. No amount of finger fucking would satisfy her now. Wanda had to have a cock.
A lewd grin curled her lips as she ground the starter of Wilma's car. Wilma's husband Ralph would be waiting at home, probably jacking himself off.
She'd always wondered about Ralph, how he could stand being married to a stubborn cunt like Wilma. Of course that would change now. After the fucking Jack had given her, Wilma would be hungry for more. Poor Ralph probably wasn't ready for that.
Wanda's warped grin pulled tight as she jammed the car into gear. She'd decided to help herself and him too… by pretending to be Wilma for the rest of the night.
"Wilma, is that you?" Ralph called from their bedroom at the back of the house.
"Yes, dear." Wanda had made a lot of noise searching for the right key and unlocking the unfamiliar door. Then she almost fell over a fucking chair that was not where she expected it to be. Until tonight, Wilma's greatest pleasure in life came from rearranging the living-room furniture.
Wanda's hand thumped against the wall, searching in vain for a switch to turn on the light in the hall.
"What's the matter?" Ralph shouted gruffly. "It sounds like you're drunk!"
He was angry because all her racket had spoiled a beautiful dream. In the misty visions that came with restless sleep, Ralph had dreamed he had Wilma strapped to the bed her arms pulled tight and helplessly bound, her unwilling legs spread wide and waiting for the huge swelling of his frustrated cock. That was the only way he'd ever enjoyed sex with her… in cruel dreams of bondage.
His cock still ached and burned from the stress of his lewd desire. In joyous dreams he held her captive, he raped her time and time again, riding her and breaking her in the way a cowhand would break a wild horse, until she submitted willingly.
But only in dreams did he experience such pleasure, and now the clumsy hag had awakened him with her noisy stumbling and spoiled that.
"For Christ's sake… can't you even stand up?" He'd heard her crash twice against the wall.
"I'm fine, dear… just taking off my dress." Wanda's urgent desire to strip her aching body naked and the frantic trembling of her legs caused her to stumble as she shed the tatters of her ruined dress.
"Now what are you doing?" He could hear her in the bathroom, still crashing and banging, and Ralph was anxious to get back to sleep… to continue his lewd dream of his wife in bondage.
"I'm just getting ready for bed," Wanda called. "I'll be with you in a sec."
"Oh, shit!" Ralph groaned half under his breath. He knew all too well how his wife got ready for bed – first winding her long hair in metal curlers as inviting to touch as a barbed wire fence, then spraying the whole mess with shit that smelled like paint remover.
Wanda smiled and preened before the mirror, brushing the tangles from her silky, sable brown hair, stroking it until it gleamed and flashed and matched the look of desire blazing in her anxious eyes.
She'd always wondered about Ralph's cock how big it was, how hard it would get if her hands and her aching cunt were to close around it in ways that Wilma never would. Wanda smiled back at her seductive reflection in the mirror, fondling her anxious tits until their wine-red nipples bulged with seething desire.
Wanda decided to leave her high heels on and her black-net stockings held by lacy garter belts. Of course she knew the Wilma would never do anything so enticing. She even brushed her cunt hair until it gleamed soft and dark, as luxurious as mink.
Ralph lay on his side in their bed, idly flipping the pages of a thick, leather bound book about banking and investment law, hoping he could bore himself back to sleep before his dreary wife came into the room. He wanted to return to the bliss of his forbidden dream.
But the heavy scent of the leather that bound the book fanned the smoldering heat of his imagination. His cock swelled even harder than it had in delightful fantasy. He curved his hand around the aching shaft of his neglected manhood and beat on it like a jungle drum.
"Ralph!" Wanda gasped in imitation of her sister's prudish voice. "What are you doing?"
The slap of his anxious hand on his jizz-swollen cock had kept him from hearing the soft click of her high heels. Without even looking around, he said, "I'm flogging my fucking cock."
"Huuunh?" Wanda gasped, in imitation of her sister's voice. Then Wanda gulped down the sound of her own lusty desire. Somehow she had imagined Ralph to have a withered little prick, bent and red like a rusty nail. She had thought that she would have to tempt him to make his cock swell, tease and suck to make his prick strain.
What she saw in the grasp of his blurring hand was a heaving shaft, rough-barked with blue veins, long and hard as a log of solid oak. "Is-is that big fucker all for me?" she gasped.
Ralph glanced toward the door and his beating hand stopped abruptly. Not even in his dreams did Wilma look so enticing. Her nipples bulged thick and ripe with desire. Her cunt hair sheened with damp desire. His throbbing cock gave a heave.
"Wilma? Wilma, is that you?"
He couldn't believe it. It was his wife coming through the door, her face, her figure but Wilma usually wore a long, thick flannel nightgown that fit like a sack.
"It's me," Wanda replied. Her intense gaze had locked on his twitching, jerking cock. The sight of his prick, so restless and eager, almost bursting with desire… it made her pussy squirm with convulsions of need.
"What-what happened to you?" he asked in a quaking voice.
Wanda thought he meant her marks of bondage and welts from the whip. Though the pain of what Fred James did to her had cooled she carried raw, red reminders of his lust.