Mrs. Jones had prepared a mouthwatering meal, and now she was pulling dessert from the oven. “That’s enough work now,” she said setting the dishes on the table. “Now it’s time for a treat.”
Mrs. Jones hitched a leg over her husband and straddled his lap. She fed him a piece of the dessert. Then she sucked her fingers of the treat. Then she sucked his face.
Jones’ hands went to cup his wife’s ass. Her hips rocked into his groin. It was a live porn show. They were grinding like Angela wasn’t there.
His hand went up her thigh. As it inched her short skirt up it quickly became clear that Mrs. Jones wasn’t wearing any underwear. Jones ran his thumb over her bare cunt.
Angela squeezed her thighs together under the table. Jones often fingered her pussy under the table at staff meetings. He’d run his fingers through her folds as she struggled to keep her breathing even amidst a roomful of their colleagues and bosses.
She knew Jones was fucking other people in the office. That didn’t bother her. She had no delusions that what they had was special. But seeing him do it to his wife was a line she wasn’t prepared to cross.
“I’ve imposed on you two long enough,” she said coming to stand. “I should be going.”
Mrs. Jones unlocked her lips from her husband and frowned. “I thought you were staying the weekend? I made up the guest room and everything.”
Jones sat back, one hand under his wife’s shirt thumbing her nipple which was visible. He stroked back and forth, then round and round as he eyed Andrea.
“I was hoping we could have a pie eating contest,” Mrs. Jones said.
The piece of pie she’d sliced for Andrea sat untouched on the table. Mrs. Jones lifted her hips from her husband and stepped away from him. She extended her hand to Andrea.
Andrea stared at that hand. It was manicured with bright red polish. Andrea knew where Mrs. Jones’ fingers would lead her. She knew she should head out of this open house and close the door.
Andrea entwined her fingers with the other woman’s.
Mrs. Jones led her through the house, with Mr. Jones trailing at their heels. They passed by a red door with a lock. Andrea was curious as to what was behind that door. They came into a bedroom at the back of the house.
Mr. Jones closed the door behind the two women. Mrs. Jones was on Andrea before the door closed. Her hands seemed to be everywhere.
On Andrea’s breasts, slipping her buttons from her shirt. On her hips, rucking up her skirt. In her hair, loosening the clip that held her low bun.
Andrea had never been with a woman before -except a drunken night in college which didn’t count. She stood there and let Mrs. Jones take charge. Her eyes went to Jones who came up behind his wife and then rounded to the back of Andrea.
Jones slid the shirt that his wife had opened over Andrea’s head and palmed her stiff nipples.
“I think pink nipples are so sexy,” said Mrs. Jones. “You have the prettiest skin. Do you sun bathe?”
Andrea shook her head when words escaped her. Jones slide her skirt down her hips. She hadn’t worn any panties, it had become an occupational hazard with him. He liked to rip them off her if he found them covering her cunt.
“Have you ever gone down on a woman before?” Mrs. Jones asked.
“Once in college,” Andrea answered.
“Did you make her come?”
Andrea scrunched her face trying to remember the awkward, drunken encounter.
“Honey, if you have to think about it, it’s a no. You wanna have that pie eating contest?”
Andrea gulped, her hands went sweaty. She shivered slightly and looked down to realize she was naked, except for her heels. How the hell did that happen?
Mrs. Jones led her to the bed and gave her a gentle shove down. She slid her own skirt down while her husband pulled her tight shirt up and over her head.
“Spread your thighs,” said Mr. Jones.
Andrea did so. Jones treated her like an equal when it came to business. But she was so used to heeding his commands when it came to any sexual encounter.
Mrs. Jones climbed on top of her. She turned around and placed her knees at Andrea’s ears. Her cunt hovered over Andrea’s face.
Mrs. Jones leaned down and looked back over her shoulder. “First one to come loses. Ready? One, two…”
She dove for Andrea’s pussy and began licking and sucking.
Mrs. Jones loved the taste of cock. But there was something about another woman’s cunt that got her juices flowing. She’d been tasting the remnants of Andrea’s cunt juices for weeks now. Her husband would come home with her on his chin and his upper lip. When Mrs. Jones would kiss him at the door, she’d glide her tongue over his lips and down his chin and get a hint of Andrea.
And now she was getting a hit straight from the well. Andrea was going to lose the pie eating contest. That was a given. The woman was too busy writhing and moaning from Mrs. Jones’ tongue.
She also had a tiny bud which put her at an unfair advantage. Within a few strokes, nips, and tugs, Andrea was shaking like a leaf.
Mrs. Jones turned around and climbed up the bed. She nipped at Andrea’s lips with the drippings of Andrea’s pussy on her mouth. At first Andrea stiffened. But Mrs. Jones kept her kisses exploratory, just hovering above the other woman’s mouth. She wanted Andrea to come to her. It was more fun that way.
Unlike Mrs. Smith, who needed a firm hand, Andrea was unashamed of her sexuality and sexual needs. She just was unpracticed. Mrs. Jones could fix that. A second orgasm would make the process go even faster.
Mrs. Jones reached down and slid her fingers through Andrea’s slippery pussy as she continued lightly kissing the woman.
Andrea moaned, slipping her knees further apart. She began lapping at Mrs. Jones’ mouth, sucking at her lips and grinding her hips. Andrea writhed on the bed as Mrs. Jones inserted a second finger. Her mouth latched onto Mrs. Jones, her tongue slipped inside and began a serious exploration as she sought release from one end or another.
The more Andrea raised up to get at her mouth, the lighter Mrs. Jones made her kisses. Then she removed her lips from Andrea’s face all together. Mrs. Jones dipped down to those pink nipples that fascinated her. Women with pink nipples reminded her of bubble gum.
Mrs. Jones rolled one nippled around in her mouth. With her fingers still pumping inside of Andrea’s channel, she felt Andrea rising to climax below. She backed off and concentrated on her nipple.
Andrea reached her own hands down until she had Mrs. Jones’ cunt in hand. She began to rub at Mrs. Jones. Andrea’s fingers were shaking and unpracticed. That suited Mrs. Jones just fine. She loved the effect she was having on this woman.
Mrs. Jones got up and crawled sideways. She slipped her thighs over Andrea’s hips until their cunts rubbed against one another. Then she began to move in a scissoring fashion. Andrea, whose back arched up from the bed, moved her hips to meet her stroke for stroke.
They began slowly as Andrea got the motion of the movement. But soon their hips were rocking faster and faster. Grinding into each other as their juices were mixed together making slurping sounds.
Andrea whimpered as she lost control of her hips. Mrs. Jones wasn’t far behind. Andrea may have had a small clit but her labia were wet and velvety. They felt like heaven against Mrs. Jones’ entire cunt.
Andrea rose her head and latched onto Mrs. Jones’ nipple. She sucked the living daylight out of it as her climax mounted.
Mrs. Jones felt the woman’s muscles pulsating as she gyrated her hips. It felt like a sucking motion was trying to pull her cunt into Andrea’s. She got lost in the suction and let it pull her under into her own climax.
Even after both women came they didn’t stop rocking against each other. It was just too good. As soon as Andrea caught her breath from the first orgasm, she launched into another, which sucked Mrs. Jones’ back down into another of her own.
The second orgasm slowed them down, but not entirely. Andrea reached
up and yanked Mrs. Jones’ head down for tongue-sucking kiss as their bodies continued to pulsate and rock.
Mrs. Jones lay on top of Andrea as she ran her hands all along her body. They kissed like they were old lovers. Andrea was no longer awkward or uncertain in her movements. Yes, thought Mrs. Jones, this one was a keeper.
That had definitely not been Andrea’s experience in college. What she remembered of that drunken night, had been some heavy petting, but nothing like what just happened between her and Mrs. Jones.
She felt Jones come onto the bed. Looking up at him, she saw that his cock was heavy and eager in the nude-colored condom. Andrea was surprised to find that her pussy still ached for him after that amazing treatment. She wanted Jones, but she didn’t want to let go of his wife.
Jones pulled Andrea’s legs apart. She didn’t think she could have another orgasm after the two that had just shattered her clit. But she’d learned over the last few weeks that Jones could pull an orgasm out of her like a magician pulled a rabbit out of a hat. So she opened for him as she continued to thrust her tongue down his wife’s throat.
Mrs. Jones swung her body off of Andrea to make way for her husband. Jones shoved Andrea’s thighs into her chest and thrust deep inside her body. No foreplay was necessary. Andrea was juicy and wet thanks to his wife.
Speaking of his wife, Mrs. Jones leaned over Andrea. She thrust her tongue into her mouth as her husband thrust his cock deeper and deeper into Andrea’s pussy.
Mrs. Jones kissed her like a longtime lover. Gentle kisses on her temple as her husband pounded her pussy. Mrs. Jones lay feather light kisses on Andrea’s eyebrows as her husband’s cockhead reached for her cervix. Mrs. Jones caught Andrea’s gasps with her lips as her husband extended her legs and thrust even deeper.
Then Mrs. Jones let go of Andrea’s lips. She climbed over Andrea’s face and gave her her pussy.
Andrea welcomed the pussy that had rocked her world. Her tongue reached for and sucked at Mrs. Jones’ clit. She ran her tongue up and down Mrs. Jone’s labia. She stuck her tongue as deep as it would go into the woman’s slippery cunt. All the while, Jones never let up on his relentless rhythm.
Above her, the Joneses kissed and embraced as they fucked her. Jones fucked her with his thick dick while Mrs. Jones smeared Andrea’s face with her pussy juice.
Andrea felt used by the married couple. But used in a good way. If this is what marriage was like she would’ve done it years ago.
Over her face, Mrs. Jones was coming. Her hips ground into Andrea’s mouth, covering her nose. Andrea felt a huge sense of satisfaction that her tongue had made this woman wild.
Jones flipped Andrea over. He turned her to face Mrs. Jones who was laying flat on her back, still coming down from her orgasm. Jones laid Andrea out on top of his wife. Once Andrea’s body was prone over his wife’s, he thrust into Andrea from behind making her the meat in the Jones’ sandwich.
Mrs. Jones slid down and suckled at Andrea’s breasts. She reached down and rubbed Andrea’s super-sensitive clit as her husband pounded into her from behind. The next orgasm wanted to come, but the actions and sensations calling her to climax was too good. She held the explosion at bay for as long as she could, but she quickly lost that pointless battle.
The force of her muscles clenching slowed Jones’ thrusts down, but only temporarily. The moment her quivering stopped Jones picked up his thrusts. Mrs. Jones had never stopped her suckling and fondling. Before she had time to catch her breath, Andrea’s muscles gave way again.
When she opened her eyes, she watched as Jones pulled out of her and ripped the condom off. He crooked a finger to his wife. She climbed out from under Andrea and got aboard his cock.
Andrea lay beside them. Her body was spent. She could do nothing but lay there and watch this private show between this couple.
She loved the sounds Mrs. Jones made as Jones swiveled his hips into her. She loved the sight of his dark cock retreating from Mrs. Jones’ pink folds. The stretching of that pink skin fascinated Andrea. The building cream around her labia that clung to the thick veins of Jones’ thrusting dick made Andrea’s mouth water.
Jones came inside his wife and for the first time since she’d known him, since she’d begun fucking him, since she’d realized he was fucking others, Andrea felt jealousy. She’d had Jones’ cum in her eyes, on her breasts, on her stomach, in her mouth, but never raw and in her cunt.
Jones cradled his wife, whispering how much he loved her. How he cherished her. How he would never get enough of her.
Andrea listened. She wasn’t included in these endearments, but they touched her heart, nonetheless. She felt a great sense of peace just being near such deep devotion that it somehow spilled over and made her feel apart of something bigger than herself.
“Do you want French toast in the morning, Andrea?”
Andrea blinked. It took her eyes a few seconds to focus on the Joneses.
“I’ll make it just for you with lots of cream.” Mrs. Jones bent down and gave Andrea a long, languid, wet kiss.
Jones reached down and tucked Andrea under the covers. Then he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep tight,” he whispered.
Hand in hand, they padded over to the door. They both gave her smiles as they turned out the lights and shut the door on the first night of a long weekend.
The Baked Goods
Mrs. Smith pulled the cookies out of the oven. Their sweet smell wafted up to her nose. These would be the highlight of the bake sale at the elementary school tomorrow. Everyone would be able to tell they were homemade and not store bought like some of the other moms who didn’t get home until six in the evening. Mrs. Smith had been up since six in the morning making these cookies from scratch like a good mom.
She set the tray out to cool and began chopping vegetables to go in the casserole for tonight’s dinner. The dish she was making was her husband’s favorite. He’d landed a big client at his accounting firm the other day. He hadn’t told her until he’d gotten home that evening. To celebrate, they’d had sex after the kids were in bed.
At least she thought they did. It happened so quickly that she wasn’t so sure. She wasn’t so sure of much after her afternoon with the Joneses.
Last night when her husband had taken off his glasses and gave her a few kisses, she’d pulled up her nightgown just above her hips. He’d slipped his pajama bottoms down, just below his hips, and slipped inside her without any fanfare. It had just been a few pumps, a couple of groans, and then it was over.
He’d fallen back on his pillow and was asleep in seconds, while she lay awake feeling unsatisfied. She’d never thought about satisfaction when it came to her marital duties with her husband. It had always been just part of the marriage contract. Something that was done during times like these when there was cause to celebrate one of his accomplishments.
She made sure they had sex at least once a month. He never pushed for more than that, there’d never been any need to. The infrequent act had given her two lovely children, this big house, and the social status she desired.
But last night, after her husband rolled off her with a satisfied grin on his face, Mrs. Smith was left bereft. She’d wanted something more. Her eyes closed long moments later, and she was launched into a nightmare.
She was shoved down onto a couch. A man’s privates were forced down her throat. A woman stuck her tongue in Mrs. Smith’s most private area. She was forced to climax over and over again. She’d jerked awake in the middle of the night with a sheen of sweat between her breasts and an ache between her thighs.
Now, in the bright afternoon sun, Mrs. Smith pulled out a fresh zucchini. The vegetable was thick and firm. She’d never noticed before that it had the same bumpy veins as a man’s groin. She held the swollen squash up, her mouth filled with an excess of moisture. Her tongue ran along the bottom of her lip.
A noise outside her window had her jumping. She dropped the knife, but not the zucchini. Peering out the window
she saw into the Joneses’ backyard.
A privacy fence surrounded their property. But from the elevated ground of the Smith residence, she was able to see down into their yard. Mr. Jones leaned against the fence. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. Mrs. Jones was on her knees. Her head bobbed up and down at his middle.
Was she? Were they? Out in the middle of the day in their back yard. Anyone could walk by. Anyone could see.
It couldn’t stand. She’d have to write them up. Then she remembered what happened to her the last time she’d written them up and gone to confront them.
Sweat trickled between her breasts. Her chest rose and fell with heavy sighs as she watched Mrs. Jones’ head bob up and down. When Mrs. Smith lifted her gaze, she saw that Mr. Jones’ gaze was fastened on her.
Mrs. Smith jerked away from the window. Had he seen her? What if he came over? They might make her do all of those terrible things again.
Unless, perhaps, they hadn’t seen her.
Mrs. Smith poked her head back out at the window. She scanned the area of the Joneses’ backyard, rising on her tiptoes. She looked to the left and then to the right. But they were gone.
Her shoulders slumped as she sighed. She tried to swallow the excessive moisture down her throat, but a lump stood in the way. The ache between her thighs returned as though she hadn’t had her own marital relations just last night. She thought?
Her husband had climbed atop her. She’d felt his soft thighs nudge hers open. There had been a pinch at her private parts. That pinch had excited her. But then that was the last thing she felt before he rolled off her and began snoring softly. Had it always been that way?
There was a knock at the backdoor. Mrs. Smith stared. It could be them. Did she dare open it?
Her heart pounded in her chest. Something else pounded between her thighs. She made her way over to the door, trying to slow her steps. She opened it and the two Joneses stood on her back stoop.
They both stared at her. Their smiles were friendly. Neighborly.
Keeping It Up with the Joneses Page 7
