"If you think the dentist hurt you with his little drill… wait till you feel this big fucker of mine!"
And then he fucked her and fucked her until the football game ended with the final score: Chargers 38, Buffalo 2.
CHAPTER TWO
Wanda curved her middle finger and wiggled it deep into her juicy cunt slit.
"Hhhmmm," she purred softly. "Aaahhh!"
Through eyes half closed and damp with tears of desire, she glanced again at the clock. Just after five. Good, her husband Jack would be home any minute. He'd have a drink to relax from the pressures of his job and then give her the ripping good fuck she hungered for so wantonly.
The sharp ring of the telephone bell shattered her misty visions of their frantic lust.
"Hi, honey… it's me," Jack said. In the background Wanda could hear rattles and clanks from the noisy warehouse that he supervised.
"Oh, Jack," she answered with a breathy moan, "I was just thinking of you…" Her voice drifted off in a mellow haze as her finger worked deeper into her twat. Wanda could almost feel what Jack's big cock would do in the place of her finger. "I've missed you so much today!"
"Er, yeah… I've missed you too." Jack sounded uneasy.
"Hurry home, dear," Wanda said. "I'm warming up a special treat for you." A tense gasp of pleasure burst from her lips as she ground the heel of her hand down hard on the nub of her clit. "Ooaoh," she moaned, twisting her hand in slow circles until her cunt mound ached and seethed with restless desire.
"Uh, that's why I called," Jack said with a tremor of guilt. "I'm… I'm going to have to work late. Probably very late. Don't fix dinner for me, and don't wait up…"
"Oh, Jack!" Her joyous writhing ceased abruptly.
It felt as though he'd rammed an icicle deep in her twat.
"I'm sorry, dear. I can't help it. Things here at the plant are completely fucked!"
"It's me that needs to be completely fucked!"
"I know how it is with you," Jack said with a sigh. Wanda would turn thirty next week, but she was sexier now and more filled with lusty desires than on their wedding night ten years ago. "I'm sorry. I'd be there if I could, but we can't move shit in or out of the plant. The truckers went on strike…"
"If they're not working, maybe I'll fuck one of them!" Wanda said sharply.
"Don't say that. Don't even think about it!"
Wanda went on in contempt: "I'll find a hairy one with a huge cock, and balls as big as truck tires…"
"Bitch!" Jack snarled.
Jack's anger came from seething, guilt. The truckers had gone out on strike, that much was true. But only the major lines were shut down. All of the independents and most of the smaller outfits were still hauling. It would only take an hour or two of extra work to clear the warehouse – then Jack planned to spend the rest of the evening with Tess, a sexy young invoice clerk he'd hired the day before.
Somewhere Jack had read what was happening in their marriage – that women often do not reach the peak of their sexual desire until ages thirty to thirty-five. And by then, just as often, their husbands have grown bored at home and begun to look elsewhere for new thrills.
"Don't call me a bitch and don't give me any shit about having to work late," Wanda said in a tense voice. "I know all about little Tess and her big tits!"
"What? How could you?"
"Because you talked about her in your sleep last night."
"Oh, shit," Jack muttered in disgust. "Wanda, listen…"
"No, you listen! I want some excitement too!"
"I'll be home as soon as I can," Jack said, his voice tinged with guilt. "There is some work I have to do, but…"
"Don't rush," Wanda hissed. "And don't disappoint little Tess… I might spend the night out too!"
"Wanda! Wanda?"
Wanda didn't hear Jack's final plea. She slammed down the phone and stalked to the front window for some fresh air. Breathing deeply, a sly grin curved her lips. Wanda had no intention of going out – certainly not to spend the night with some raunchy truck driver. What she wanted to do was make Jack jealous.
Wild thoughts of what he might do to her in a jealous rage increased the width of her grin. Wanda hiked up her short skirt and stirred the honey dripping from her slit.
"Hhhmmm," she purred as she reamed a twisting finger in and out of her cunt. "Ooooh, shit!" she said as a familiar-looking car pulled to the curb in front of the house. She'd have no more time for finger-fucking.
It was her sister Wilma. Her twin sister. Her dull, boring, prudish twin. As children, the two of them looked and acted almost exactly alike. Their teachers and friends at school, sometimes even their parents, had trouble telling them apart. Especially when the mischievous twins changed roles, each one pretending to be the other.
Wilma soon tired of that trick. She grew quickly from a fun-loving child to a serious and often stuffy adult. Wanda remained a free-spirited adventurer, always seeking some wild thrill.
Wanda wore her hair down, brushed smooth and straight, sleek and gleaming like the finest sable. Wilma's hair looked mousy brown and twisted into a severe bun on top of her head.
Short skirts and clinging, low-cut blouses showed Wanda's tapered legs and lush tit curves at their very best. Wilma wore baggy woolen suits with skirts draped well below her knees, even in the fiercest summer heat.
Wanda's shimmering hair swayed and tickled the crack of her ass whenever she pranced naked to excite her husband Jack. Wilma, she thought, wouldn't strip herself naked even to take a bath unless the door was double-locked. Wanda felt sorry for Wilma's poor husband Ralph fucking her must be as exciting as fucking a knothole in a fence.
Wilma sniffed after Wanda had answered the door, disgusted by the sultry scent of an eager cunt.
"Hi," Wanda said, smoothing her skirt with spread fingers while teasing her anxious cunt mound.
"Hello, Wanda." Even Wilma's voice was dull and wooden sounding.
"I wasn't expecting you."
"Obviously." Wilma sniffed glaring at the damp spot showing through her twin sister's obscenely short skirt. When Wanda turned, Wilma noticed that the skirt barely covered the full, enticing curves of her rear.
Wilma stirred nervously in her thick, sack-like woolen suit as she closed the door. "I have a problem," she said bluntly.
Wanda looked her up and down, shuddering at the sight of her frumpy twin, yet grinning wryly at the same time. "Obviously," she said, mocking the tone of her sister's haughty greeting.
Wilma fussed nervously with her thick, drab and shapeless jacket that effectively hid a fine pair of tits that Wanda knew had to be as full, proud and sharply pointed as her own. "I-I need your help," the dour-looking twin said.
"Oh? Let me guess… Ralph has his once a year erection, and you don't remember what to do with it."
"Be serious," Wilma said in a pleading voice. "It's not Ralph. I'm having a problem with another man."
"Another man? You?" Wanda half choked, trying to keep from laughing out loud. Her sister never wore makeup or did anything else that would make her appealing to a man. "What's the matter? Can't you get along with his seeing-eye dog?"
"Wanda, please this is important! I'm in line for a promotion at work, a chance to move out of the steno pool and become an important executive's private secretary."
"What's that got to do with me?"
Wilma blushed, bowed her head and went on fussing with her dumpy clothes. "Well, Fred… Mr. James… he's the first vice president where I work. He's the one picking a new secretary, and he's giving a party tonight at his place to meet all the women who have a chance at the job. They're knockouts, every one! I know they'll all be dressed to kill, and some of them would do anything to land that job."