The Housewife From Hell
Introduction: Michael, 22, wants to be a priest. Sort of. Amanda, his mother, is 44, not a raving beauty, but she has needs. Our housewife is Amber, an afternoon wife. She’s married to Harold, a typical husband who falls asleep after dinner.
Michael grumbled to himself as he sat reading an erotic novel he’d purchased at the adult book store. These lurid classics were hidden under his mattress because his mother was very strict about his reading material. He found time to read when she was doing the laundry or out next door with a neighbor discussing who had moved to Canada or maybe to Bolivia. Life was getting tougher, prices were going up, and a good man was hard to find. That’s what his mother always said.
Amanda was his mother’s name, not scriptural, but since the worst people in the world have scriptural names, Amanda’ s dark side works well for this story. At her age, 44, she was no raving beauty. But she did have curves. When she was younger she got hired fast because of her bust size, her big boobs, not because she was good looking or had an IQ that was off the charts. Her boobs, like two huge grapefruits, sat on her chest and when you spoke to Amanda you usually talked to her boobs. It irked her at first but then she learned to live with it. After all, there were lots of flat chested women who needed to get advanced degrees, like MBA’s, to get hired. Amanda had a high school diploma and a burning desire to talk to God. Or almost anyone who would listen. In a sense she was spiritual and she went to confession every week and even Michael didn’t know what she told the priest but it must have been one hot confession since the good father always emerged red-faced and perspiring heavily.
Her going to church had a influence on Michael when he was an impressionable kid. Thus when he had to make a life decision it was either the priesthood or go to law school. Too many people were lawyers these days, usually bottom feeders or politicians, and Michael wanted to distance himself from those worthies. Even the Vatican had lawyers and judging from headlines the Pope spent more time purging the Church from lawyers than he did caring for his flock.
Michael couldn’t understand why he was torturing himself, getting hard and then what was he supposed to do? Jerk off as usual; he hated himself for masturbating. Self loathing, that’s what it was called.
He intended to become a priest, a Jesuit, and he was serious about getting a doctorate teaching in some university, maybe Santa Clara University, or Loyola, both Jesuit schools. He didn’t think he possessed the grit he needed to become a parish priest. Just the thought of the confessional alone made him shiver. Having to listen to women tell him how often they played with themselves, and who was licking whose pussy and who was having an affair with some married guy. It was more than he could take.
Deciding to test himself, Michael wanted to see if he could handle the temptation. It wasn’t like he was Moses leading Israelites to the Promised Land. Moses was 80 years old when God told him to get out of Egypt. And Moses was smart enough to know he was old, not that he’d be tempted to fuck his brains out for 40 years in the desert. His libido was almost gone. Maybe that’s why God chose him. If he were a young man, and had all those yummy women to deal with, he would never have made it.
* * *
Michael knew about the women who went to the Copley lounge to meet salesmen. These were afternoon wives because they were there to meet salesmen in the afternoon. Salesmen looking for action with a horny housewife. But Michael didn’t have the personality makeup of a salesman, he tended to be morose most of the time. He never looked at the good side of life, only the concept of eternal damnation. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he felt it was a good fit. Who ever heard of a happy priest? He had a big sign posted in his bedroom, borrowed from Dante’s Inferno: “Abandon hope all ye who enter here …” or something like that. It was the gateway to Hell.
Before going away to seminary, he wanted to give himself a gift. A going-away present to himself: he wanted to get laid. It was written on the white board hanging in his study. GET LAID! He actually wrote it in Greek because he didn’t want a tirade from his mother. Unfortunately, he was still a virgin and he felt he had to indulge in the excesses of the flesh to see what all the fuss was about.
He had never slept with a woman, other than his mother and she wasn’t really a woman. She was his mother and they cuddled when he was sad, which was most of the time and she taught him that his issues were connected to his penis and if she fondled his pecker to make it stiff and rub it a while until he felt his balls explode everything would be OK. At least until it got hard again, which didn’t take long, with his mother fingering his shaft the way she did. She loved playing with his penis when it was soft, and she’d sancaktepe escort put it in her mouth and suck it until it got hard. His mother took care of everything, like a good mother should.
What he wanted was a real woman, a hot blooded female, the kind that wanted to meet a salesman, the kind of woman who was so bottled up with frustration that even a middle-aged pot bellied salesman was better than her husband. Luckily Michael was only 22 years old, and in decent shape. He jogged in the morning, and his stamina was good. Not having big muscles meant he was trim and didn’t need custom made suits. Lovers did not need big arms to romance a woman, they needed savoir faire.
Filled with trepidation, Michael knew about the Copley lounge. Everyone knew about the Copley lounge. When a woman walked into the Copley lounge men could smell her pussy ten feet away like a dog sniffing a bitch in heat. He had no idea what to wear, a suit, no tie, the look of a tech type in jeans and t-shirt, or an MBA type in a 3-piece suit. Did anyone even wear 3-piece suits anymore?
One hot August afternoon, Amber walked into the Copley lounge. She would hardly label herself as an afternoon wife. She told herself she wasn’t like those other women, most of them cheap sluts who cheated on their husbands. She just wanted a drink after shopping, before she headed home. She had spent a small fortune at Nordstrom’s.
She lived in a small town outside of Boston. Off Route 128, a town with lots of homes built 200 years ago. The homes were expensive, if you liked colonials, and she was glad Harold bought it for it.
Setting down her shopping bags, she sat down at a small table, went through her purse, and found her cigarettes and lighter. The man took her order and returned to the bar. Amber puffed on her cigarette, sat back in her chair, and waited for the barman to bring her drink.
Amber was a beautiful woman. Her thick auburn hair was cut just below her shoulders, giving her an upscale appearance, high fashion, with money.
Her figure was fabulous. She had long, slender limbs and sharp features. Her breasts were round and firm. She had a trim waist, narrow hips, and the legs of a model. Her pencil skirt and sleeveless blouse accentuated her beautiful arms, breasts, and thighs.
The barman brought her drink.
Amber sipped it slowly. She told herself that she would have one more drink before she drove home. She checked out the people in the lounge, and made eye contact with a woman, a younger woman, maybe a college girl wanting to have some fun. While Amber pondered the possibilities, her thoughts were interrupted.
“Mind if I join you?” It was a tempered voice, refined.
Amber turned and saw a tall, blond-haired fellow in his early twenties. He was good looking, and he was dressed in a jacket with patches on the sleeves. One of those academic types. She shrugged and watched him as he sat down, facing her. His eyes roamed over every square inch of her body. Amber didn’t care; she was quite used to this.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said, smiling.
Amber turned, and stared out the window.
The young man eyed her curiously. This was one cold fish, he told himself. But she was gorgeous, and he wanted her. He decided that he would not give up.
“You busy tonight?”
Amber continued staring out the window. Sighing deeply, she nodded.
“How about tomorrow night?” he asked.
Again she nodded. She felt he was fishing; he wasn’t very polished. Too bad because he was good looking, a decent type, not the kind where you hate yourself in the morning.
The young man got up and looked down at her, frowning. He started to say something, but Amber turned and looked up at him. “I’m married,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. Then he turned and left her sipping her drink.
“I’m sorry, too,” Amber said under her breath. Then, sighing and finishing her drink, she got up, picked up her shopping bags, and left the lounge.
She thought about him as she drove the short distance home. Pity, she reflected sadly. He was certainly a good looking guy. He had a good body, slim, and seemed intelligent. He would probably be fantastic in bed. It was a shame she had to turn him down.
Amber drove up the driveway to her house, picked up her bags, and entered the house through the kitchen. She set down the bags and began emptying the groceries onto the kitchen table. In twenty minutes, she had everything neatly stored away. Then she sat down at the table, lit a cigarette, and thought about the young man once again.
You could have swung it, baby, she told herself. Harold won’t be back till tonight. You could have swung it. He could have followed you home, stayed two or three hours, and left an hour or two before Harold even got home.
No. She shook her head and killed her cigarette. Sighing, she got ümraniye escort up and began to unbutton her blouse. Then she headed for the bathroom. She stripped naked, stepped into the shower, and turned on the spray. The cool water felt wonderful. She just stood there and let the cool water pour down on her while she fingered her pussy.
Later, she turned off the water, stepped out of the shower, and dried herself off. Before she went into the bedroom, she brushed her teeth and her hair.
Afterwards, she entered the bedroom and threw herself on the bed. Lying on her back and squirming into a more comfortable position, she closed her eyes and began to drift to sleep.
Then the front doorbell rang.
Jesus Christ! she thought angrily, getting up and putting on a bathrobe. Can’t even lie down without some asshole coming to the door!
She opened the door and watched him as he smiled at her bathrobe.
“Couldn’t resist the urge,” he explained. “Just had to follow you home.”
She just looked at him and fought the urge to smile and pull him inside. “I told you I was married,” she said.
“Well? Can’t you take a hint?”
“I know a horny lady when I see one,” he said, reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes. “I waited down the street, not sure whether to bother you …”
He watched her breasts moving outwards.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Michael,” he replied.
“Listen, Michael,” she said, crossing her arms over her breasts, “it’s like I said before. I’m married. Like it or not …”
Amber never finished her statement. Without a word, Michael wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She resisted at first. Then she moaned and sighed deeply in his arms. His tongue entered her mouth. Amber sucked it deeply, rubbing his lips with her own.
Then they broke.
“Who the fuck –“
Again Amber never had the chance to finish her statement. Kissing her again, Michael picked her up easily, brought her inside the house, and kicked the door shut. Then he carried her into the living room and laid her down on the couch.
“The bedroom’s that way,” said Amber, pointing.
Smiling, he picked her up again and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and opened her bathrobe. Her breasts were full, quivering, more than a mouthful. He covered them with his hands and kissed her passionately.
Her hands fumbled with his belt and fly. He got up from the bed and undressed. Amber watched him. When he stepped out of his pants, she eyed his engorged prick and licked her lips. “You’re even bigger than I thought,” she whispered fiercely.
He waited until she had shrugged out of the bathrobe. Then she squirmed on the bed. She lay on her back, her knees drawn up, her thighs parted.
Michael eyed her moist, hair fringed sex.
“Fuck me, for Chrissakes!” she whispered, breathing heavily and licking her lips.
It was his call to arms. His baptism of fire. He was primed, ready to enter the fray. He mounted her on the bed. She wrapped her legs around him and they kissed deeply, their tongues entering each other’s mouths. He covered her left tit with his hand. It was hot and tight. The cherry nipple in its center grew in his palm, getting thicker and longer. Michael squeezed it. Amber moaned softly and squirmed beneath him. He felt her warm thighs rubbing against his legs.
Amber closed her eyes. She felt his hot breath on her tits. His tongue encircled her left nipple, then her right. His hands milked her boobs. She began writhing on the bed and panting.
Michael sucked the left nipple eagerly, taking it deeply into his mouth and pumping it, his lips closing tightly around it. The brunette was breathing deeper. Her naked body moved deliciously against his own. He reached down and let his right hand rest on the soft thatch of auburn hair just above her privates. She gasped his hand and moved it down, covering her wet pubis. Michael felt the warm juice gathering on his fingers. He rubbed the hot lips of her pussy. Amber rotated her hips and moved her gash against him.
Kneeling between her spread thighs, he lifted her legs and pushed them down on her tits. Then he licked his lips and buried his face in her wet crotch. Amber gasped, struggling and wriggling beneath him. She found it difficult to breathe. Her tits were mashed against her chest. Her legs were on fire. She felt her head spinning. She felt this guy was possessed but she wasn’t complaining.
Michael licked and stroked her privates, massaging the creamy pussy lips and pumping the soggy hole with his thumb. Her moans were growing louder. She moved against him so that her cunt was rubbing his face. He smiled, tasting the juices dripping out of her honey hole. This was prime pussy, he told himself. He realized that his coming here was no mistake.
For the next ten minutes, Michael fingered, prodded, and sucked tuzla escort Amber’s swollen pussy. The brunette smiled and closed her eyes. She panted and let him do whatever he wanted. She felt his fingers rubbing her hole, squeezing her swollen clit, pumping her cunt, fingering her anal pucker. Amber wriggled her snatch against him and wet his mouth with pussy oil.
Michael suddenly got up and reversed his position on the bed. Amber looked up and saw him straddling her head. The thick, red knob was pointed directly at her. She giggled and waited for him to lower himself. When he did, she reached up with both hands, gasped the warm tube of flesh and pulled, drawing it deeply into her mouth and throat. Michael closed his eyes and shivered. Resting on his elbows, he enjoyed the woman’s hot breath on his cock and balls. He lay still and waited until she had completely bathed his member with saliva. Then he lowered his face between her naked thighs and pressed his mouth against her intimate flesh.
Amber’s sensuous lips and tongue covered every square inch of Michael’s affair. Her lips rubbed against him, and he stirred, pushing his limb deeply into her mouth. Amber rubbed his balls vigorously and tried to swallow them also. Michael began raising and lowering himself on her. She fucked his rod eagerly, letting him pull out and then sucking him deeply into her throat.
Michael inserted his tongue into her throbbing crack. She was oven-hot, and juicy as hell. His lips rubbed against her pussy lips, driving her wild. He heard her moan and take his cock deeply into her throat again. He played with her pink clit, pumping it, milking it with his fingers, sucking it into his mouth. Fresh juice rolled onto his tongue. He swallowed it and sucked her clit even more. He jammed two fingers up her red-hot gash. Then he massaged her inner thighs, which were flushed and soaking wet with perspiration.
Amber’s tongue climbed up and down the throbbing flesh pole. Pumping him with her hands, she swallowed the round head of his prick. Warm fluid trickled out of his prick slit. Moaning, she swallowed it greedily. She tickled his balls and his inner thighs. Then she probed his asshole and swallowed every inch of his thick, rigid pole.
Michael brought back her knees and pushed her thighs down on her titties. Her pussy and clit were now openly exposed. She was so wet by now that the sheets were soaked. She felt him rubbing the round globes of her ass. Then his lips and tongue were once again on her, sliding up and down her pussy lips, pumping her turgid clit, sucking her thick lips. He rammed his thumb up her crack and felt her juices spritzing at him. Then he removed his soaked thumb and pressed his mouth against her honey pot. Suddenly the brunette gasped, thrashing on the bed. Amber panted and writhed beneath him. The room was spinning in front of her eyes. She winced and felt herself flushing.
Gyrating her hips and ass, she pounded her soggy gash in his face. Michael sucked her hole and swallowed the sweet honey as she climaxed. A few moments later, he relaxed and waited for her to recover from her orgasm.
Amber went back to the swollen dick that rested against her cheek. Her lips slid up and down the complete length of it, stopping here, moving there, caressing a thick blue vein, rubbing the sensitive underside, working back down and nibbling at the base of the throbbing pole. She brought out her tongue and licked him in the balls, driving a moan from him and making him shudder. She took the fold of flesh on the underside of his cock, just beneath the mushroom dome, and put it between her lips. She sucked it gently for a while, then more vigorously. She wrapped her hands around the thick limb and felt it trembling from her soft fingers. Michael gasped and shifted uneasily over her. He closed his eyes, his blood pounding in his groin.
The beautiful brunette licked him in the balls with her tongue again. Opening her mouth, she sucked a testicle into her mouth and began to suck on it eagerly, her tongue rubbing against it, massaging it. Then she leaned closer to him and tried to suck the rest of his rocks into her mouth.
There was too much of him, so she contented herself with sucking one testicle and rubbing the other gently with her thumb and forefinger. Michael suddenly tensed in her arms. Before he could shoot his load, Amber took her thumb and pressed it firmly against the base of his prick, on the underside. With a groan, Michael felt his bubbling sperm returning to his balls.
Amber sighed and kept her thumb there for another minute. Afterwards, she licked her lips, rubbing them against the tip of his cock. He felt her warm tongue swirling around the head. He could no longer stand it. His rocks were once again beginning to boil. As before, he felt her thumb press against the base of his affair, and his fluid once again returned to his quivering sac.
Amber began pumping him with her mouth, letting only the head of his dick enter her mouth. Each time his prick went inside, her tongue worked him feverishly on the wet head. He didn’t think he could take much more. His balls were beginning to ache. She would not let them alone. Her fingers and palms rubbed them, stroked them, prodded them, tickled them. All the while, she laved his knob with her warm lips and blew her hot breath all over his groin.