Donna Allen
Hard up wife
CHAPTER ONE
"You'll be late for work," she said.
Leona Crawford lay on her back on her bed with her legs hooked over her husband's shoulders and her body shaking each time he pumped his cock into her battered pussy.
Fucking at eight o'clock in the morning was a bore. Bob was a sweet guy and she loved him very much, but whenever he got up in the morning with a hard-on, he felt obligated to pulverize her pussy with it.
The truth was that she never got much out of it, morning, noon, or night, not in all the two years of their marriage. Leona had resolved herself to the fact that she was simply one of those women who got nothing out of fucking. She had orgasms, but she always brought them on herself, sometimes in the bathtub, sometimes while sitting on the toilet, and sometimes on the bed when Bob was not at home. She had always enjoyed jerking off, ever since the first time as a child, and she knew that without it she'd probably go crazy. She knew it was important to have some kind of sexual release.
Bob liked to fuck, but Leona thanked God he wasn't in the mood more than once or twice a week. He liked to have her legs over his shoulders, doubling her up like a rag-doll and pounding her cunt until he came. She always felt terribly exposed in that position, with her crotch up in the air, and whenever they did it that way, she always insisted on having the lights out. It was morning now, however, the room was lit by the sun, and she cringed at the total exposure.
"I'm almost there!" Bob groaned.
He was usually very fast, but this time, for some reason, he was lasting much longer. It didn't matter one way or the other – Leona never came when he was fucking her. Certain things about it, though, were pleasant. She could feel his heavy balls slapping against her ass and she liked that. It made her think of Bob as a stallion. When she was a young girl she once saw a stallion on a farm – and she never forgot that horse's low-hanging balls. Bob had low-hanging balls, and whenever Leona had the chance to look at them it always turned her on.
She liked looking at men. She liked their bodies. Bob wasn't the only man with whom she'd had sex, but he was the only one she ever loved enough to marry. He was dependable. He was sweet. He usually did what Leona wanted. They never did anything fancy in bed, no sucking or anything like that, and ordinary fucking once or twice a week was at least tolerable. Leona knew other couples did other things, but she didn't care. What other people did was their business.
Leona smiled when she remembered her girlhood. Back home in Dornville, a small town about two hundred miles from Chicago, teenage Leona had been famous as a cock-teaser. None of the boys who had been after her ever knew she wasn't a virgin. She'd spent two summers with an aunt in St. Louis, and each time the distance away from home had made her adventurous enouch to let a boy get his hard prick inside her panties. The first time occurred when she was sixteen and the result was a broken cherry and a bloody mess. The second time happened with another boy a year later, and even if there was no blood, there was a mess anyway – she'd made him pull out and his jism had splattered all over an expensive summer dress.
Leona liked turning men on. She liked driving them wild with her tits and ass and legs, but when it came to fucking she thought it was hardly worth the trouble. She also hated the idea of giving in, of just lying there and having a man stick his prick inside her cunt. The orgasms she gave herself whenever she finger-fucked were always so beautiful, Leona knew she needed no one else for real sexual satisfaction.