I Married a Witch - Locktober

I whispered again, "Once you feel comfortable with me, ma'am... I want that dominant bitch from the coffee shop who promised to fuck my brains out... back."

She couldn't help it, she ground her sex against my fingers until she experienced a mild orgasm. A moment later she recovered and feigned dominance as she pushed me backwards onto the bed.

She climbed on after me, turning around to be in a reverse cowgirl. She had to practically stand to line my sex up with hers.

OMG, that ass. That full, muscular ass only a woman or color could possess. My cock flexed at the sight of it below her narrow waist. I could tell from her pose that she was flattered by my response.

She placed the broad head of my cock at her entrance, her labia enveloping it. She slid back and forth across it, stimulating her clit with it and mewling. She felt wonderful. I saw Tommy's eyes zero in on the action.

She decided it was time. I felt her pushing downward on my shaft. She held her breath, gyrating upon me, trying to loosen herself to accept me. Tommy's eyes widened. It seemed impossible that she could actually fit me into her tight box. But I knew she could.

I felt the "pop" as she suddenly enveloped my head. She cried out, in surprise, in joy, in pride at success. Tommy gasped. I moaned. She felt so good.

She had some more confidence now. She slowly sat firmly, lifted, then pressed down again. Repeat. Until finally, against all reason, she had fully engulfed my manhood.

"OMG, Tommy... Tommy, he feels so fucking good. I am so full, Tommy... you would not believe... he is touching me... everywhere."

She gyrated upon me, acclimating herself to me. She lifted herself almost completely off of me, then fully impaled herself. She did this several times, until it had become easy. She was mewling and sighing the entire time.

She looked at her husband. "I can take him now, Tommy. What use are you now?"

She lifted herself off of me. She lay down on her back beside me, pulling me on top of her. "I'm back, Stu. Fuck the hell out of me, motherfucker... no mercy, fucker."

So much for no cursing.

I reentered her in the missionary position. Damn she felt good. I gradually began to increase the thrusting power, pistoning into her mercilessly as she screamed, cried out and cursed, multiple orgasms coursing through her entire body.

"Oh, gawd, Stu! I love your dick, Stu! Fuck me, fuckmefuckme! Aaaaauuuuggghhhnnnkkkk!"

She had forgotten about Tommy now. And he knew it. His poor dick tried frantically to burst out of its prison. It could not. He was subconsciously thrusting his hips too, in a vain attempt to gain some contact, some relief.

Missionary. Doggie. Cowgirl. Reverse Cowgirl. Scissor. I even stood her up against her husband and fucked her standing up while her body pressed against him. He was frantic. She had forgotten him. So I turned her around so they faced each other. I entered her again and she held onto him, digging her fingernails into him while I fucked her long and slow. When orgasms overtook her, she would bite into his chest in desperation, trying to find somewhere for the release to go.

Despite the pain and intense frustration, Tommy looked over her shoulder and thanked me. Not necessarily for taking his wife, but for taking the time to let him be a part of it.

Finally I let myself cum. I filled her with an incredible amount of my seed.

I lay her back on the bed and began to move to her vagina... I was going to perform my normal practice and clean her. She stopped me. "Please... I am exhausted... release Tommy for me. It should be his job to clean your cum from me."

I was conflicted. It was not his fault he was not blessed as I was. I released him, but asked him what he wanted. Wordlessly, he dropped down before her and devoured her snatch, gulping my seed.

I cuddled up to her. When he had finished, she asked me... "can he hold your manhood? I want him to understand why I had to have you."

Damn. I shrugged. He grasped my cock, feeling its girth and its texture. I could sense the conflict he was experiencing. Envy that he did not have a cock like mine; that he would never, ever be able to give her what I had.

I dressed quietly, then gave her one last deep kiss. I shook Tommy's hand and thanked him.

As I stood at the door, she asked if this could happen again. I kissed her again, "Probably not, ma'am. But if I find myself this way again, you can bet I will look you up. Thank you."

The door shut behind me, and in a blink I was home.

Phoebe was laying in bed, reading and waiting for me. "So. How was it?"

"Honestly?"

She grinned, "You better be. I have suspended my jealous streak for the month. I cannot very well send you out to pleasure the sexiest women I can find, and then get mad about it."

I lay next to her, undressed now. "Well you succeeded fabulously. She was incredible. Not as good as you, of course."

She put her book down. "Well of course." She was mocking me for my deference. "What about him?"

"When I left, the poor guy was trembling from need, his cage dripping pre-cum. I felt bad for him and at the same time I envied him. He had an entire month to go in that cage. This was only the beginning."

"Why did you envy him?" She was truly curious.

"I have experienced chastity before, although never for an entire month. The intensity of the denial, continuously building the sexual high without relief, cannot be duplicated an other way. In a way, you can become addicted to it."

"Good to know... for future reference..." Uh-oh.

Each day she would send me to a different locale to figure out who my assigned lover was for that day. I even found myself in Paris, and Tokyo. She sent me to those places early so I could take in the sights. However that complicated finding my target.

I guess women can tell when a married man is on the prowl. Even just around town, wearing my ring, I would get hit on. Even Monica at the diner, who KNOWS my wife, exposed a great deal of her bountiful cleavage and all but begged me to fuck her. But as strange as it seems, considering, I am not a cheater. I was thrilled at the experiences with my "targets" but I was not going to abuse my hall pass.

On the 20th we stood in the kitchen kissing goodbye as if she were seeing me off to work. Phoebe had dressed me that morning; blue jeans which she said accentuated my "perfect ass" and a western shirt I would wear occasionally.

"This one is a little different. So make me proud, baby."

That piqued my curiosity, "How so?"

She smiled that devious smile, "Uh-uh, no hints. You'll figure it out." She kissed me again and I opened my eyes in a medium sized grocery store. Fortunately nobody was on the aisle I appeared on, so I did not scare anyone.

I looked around for awhile, trying to pick up on any clues. I finally walked outside. It was a beautiful day in what appeared to be one of those small farm towns in the midwest, well away from the interstate.

I turned to go back inside. The automatic sliding doors opened and a mousy woman wearing blue jean shorts and a T-shirt, carrying a grocery bag in one hand and a cappuccino in the other exited. I stepped aside, but seemingly out of nowhere a satiny black cat darted in front of the woman, so she turned suddenly to avoid it, bumping into me.

Now her groceries were scattered on the sidewalk, and I was wearing her cappuccino on my nice button up shirt and down my jeans. I was suddenly a wet, cold, sticky mess.

The woman gasped, "Oh, hell, I'm sorry, sir! OMG, you're a mess!"

I looked past her briefly in time to see the cat flick it's tail, wink at me, then scurry around the side of the building. Of course I recognized the cat. This one must be special to her for some reason for Phoebe to take time our of her busy day to arrange this "meet cute." She had made sure I stopped wandering around lost, and actually found the "target."

I bent down and began retrieving her items from the ground, helping her to put them back in her sack. She repeatedly apologized, as I assured her it was okay, it was not her fault.

She was beside herself with embarrassment and was distraught over having wrecked my clothes. "Ah know you're not from 'round here... small town, I'd a remembered you. Are your people nearby?"

I responded in my baritone voice, "No, ma'am. I am just passing through, I do not know anyone here."

Her midwest twang may have made most not from wherever "here" was suspect a lack of intellect. Not me. I had long ago "learned to talk like the man on the 6 O'clock news" but he had grown up in a town not unlike this one.

"Wail, yer comin' home with me so I can wash them clothes for you. And you let me feed you dinner to make up for your hassle."

I demurred. I actually understood it had to happen, but did not want to appear too eager. I could not even ask where we were... this man don't even know where he's at.

She persisted, "My hubby would be embarrassed if I don't take care a you. You gotta come home an' meet James an' have dinner. I gotta big pot roast and taters and carrots slow cookin' at home already."

Even if this was not a pre-ordained event, that would have clinched it. I hadn't had that meal since mom died.

I insisted on buying her another cappuccino, and got a hot back coffee for myself. Then we climbed into her pickup and she drove. She headed out on the two lane highway. We chatted and became acquainted for nearly an hour before we turned onto a dirt road and drove several more miles, then she steered onto a long drive which led to a white two story farm house. I would guess it had been built in the fifties, but it had been diligently maintained.

I heard the wooden porch creak under our weight as we walked across and into back door to the kitchen. It was calming.

The woman, who I now knew as Martha, indicated a bathroom off of the kitchen. "James will be out in the north 40 checkin' livestock till dinner time. Ain't none a his things gonna fit you, so get outta them clothes. I'll fetch you a blanket to wrap up in while I throw your stuff in the washer."

When she knocked on the door, I stood sideways behind it, and handed my clothes out to her, to hide my nudity. She pushed the door open slightly to hand a hand-knitted blanket through.

I had not thought about the bathroom mirror. She suddenly screeched, dropping the blanket and backing away.

I looked in the mirror and realized my body was plainly visible, my flaccid slab of cock meat hanging halfway to my knees. Oops.

I picked up the blanket, which was not really knitted tightly enough to hide my flesh, but was large enough to cover me. I stood there a full five minutes working up the courage to leave the bathroom.

Martha sat at the kitchen table. A bottle of whiskey sat in the middle of the table; she held a tumbler in her hand, and another one sat on the table in front of what I assumed was my chair. I assumed day drinking was not normal for farmer's wife Martha. When I appeared, she turned beet red and downed the remainder of her drink, then poured herself another.

I said, "I am so sorry, I thought I was covered, I did not mean to offend you." I sipped the drink she had left for me.

Apparently not yet able to speak, she shook her head in the negative. I was uncertain what that meant.

"I can just take my clothes as-is and leave if it would make you feel more comfortable..."

She shook her head more emphatically, downed another drink, and poured some more. "No... no... uh-uh."

I waited, sipping my drink, not knowing what else to say. I would just have to wait for her to compose herself. She was not a big woman; I hoped she would slow down before she drank herself comatose.

Finally she spoke, although haltingly. "Can I tell you something... personal? Something that might... make YOU want to leave because we offend YOU?"

I nodded, "Please. I doubt you will offend me."

She took another dose of liquid courage. At least she was sipping now.

"Me and... me and James got together in High School here in small town America. We ain't ever been with nobody else but each other..."

She sipped again. I smiled patiently.

"He... he always thinks I deserve better. He reads these stories on the computer, and tells me about them. He sees this stuff, but we have been kinda... we ain't got experience."

She took a slightly larger drink. "Please don't think we're perverts. He asked... we, uh... agreed to try this Locktober thing..."

She waited for to ask what the fuck Locktober was. "I am familiar. I think lots of people do it."

She did not hesitate, "REALLY?"

I nodded reassuringly. "Does that mean James is in chastity right now?"

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

She closed her eyes a moment, then blew out a breath, bracing herself for the next pervy thing.

"So, James thinks I should... he wants... he thinks I deserve to experience a more worldly man with a bigger... umm... schlong than his..."

She sipped again, "He keeps bringing it up. So I finally told him if he could find a really nice guy... who was attractive... with a bigger dick... who nobody here knows... out here in the middle of nowhere, I would have sex with him. No way was that going to happen anyway... we're an hour from the nearest town, and ain't nobody there gonna qualify."

"And here I am?"

"And here the fuck you are. With a fucking huge schlong, you're perty, and been nice as hell. I don't s'pose you don't know nuthin' about lovin' on a woman?" Her country had become more pronounced with the liquor.

I sipped my whiskey and shook my head apologetically, "Sorry... I'm probably not Don Juan, but I do know a few things."

She was visibly rattled.

"Look, I'm sure my clothes will be done before dinner time, and I can just be gone before James gets back..."

She shook her head. "You don't understand... I do not want you to leave. Does that make me a cheatin' whore?"

I stretched my arms across the table, taking her small hands in mine. "Martha, if your husband asked for it and knows about it, you are not being unfaithful. And you are definitely not a whore. But if you decide you want it to happen, you have got to slow down on the whiskey. I may be willing to make love to a married woman, but I will not take advantage of a drunk woman..."

She released one of my hands and pushed her glass away. "I am not drunk... yet." She looked directly into my eyes, swallowed hard, and said firmly, "I want it to happen. Will you take me to bed? Please?"

I stood, and unfurling the blanket from my body, folded it neatly and placed it on the table. I stood there nude, my muscles on display, my still flaccid, sizable manhood hanging heavily before her. I picked up my glass and downed the whiskey, waste not, want not. Then I held out my hand for hers.

She stared at my midsection for a moment, whispered, "Oh, god" and accepted my hand. Then she led me to their bedroom and their marital bed.

As we stood beside the bed, I kissed her tenderly. Then I slowly raised her T-shirt over her head. This left her plain white bra covering her smallish breasts. I reached behind her and deftly unfastened it with one hand. She sighed. "James struggles with that with two hands... what HAVE I gotten myself into?"

I pulled the bra from her body, revealing a pair of magnificent B-cup breasts, covered in freckles to match the freckles on her nose.

She tried to cover them, "I'm sorry. I have ugly freckled titties..."

I gently pulled her hands away, "Are you kidding me? Freckles are one of the sexiest attributes a girl can have... they are a huge turn on for me..." As if in testimony, my manhood quickly became fully tumescent, tapping against her abdomen.

She looked down at it, thrilled that her body had caused that reaction, and intimidated by its erect length and girth. "Oh, GAWD..."

I knelt down before her, and while suckling her erect nipples, gently but firmly pushed her jean shorts and her white cotton panties down over her hips. I then removed them altogether, rendering her as naked as me.

I was greeted with a gloriously full patch of auburn pubic hair, the carpet matched the drapes. It had obviously never occurred to her to shave her genitals. The wild thatch of hair had evidently never so much as been trimmed. I found it incredibly erotic. I could smell her arousal. We were both happy to see my cock throb in response.

I stay on my knees and slowly traced my fingertips lightly over her entire body. Her shoulders, the nape of her neck, her back, her enticing little bubble butt, the backs of her legs, the front of her legs, her flat tummy, then back to those sexy little breasts.

I tried to convey with my touch my reverence and awe of her beauty and sensuality, and it worked. By the time I stood next to her again, she was virtually vibrating and her sex was soaked with arousal. Her breathing was ragged.

She placed her hands flat on my pecs, sensing it was time. "Please... please be gentle with me... I don't think James is as small as he thinks he is, but he ain't you by a long shot..."

It occurred to me that they really were novices. She did not know. Could not suspect that we were a long ways away from my weapon penetrating her womanhood.

But it would ruin the mood for me to explain all that. I just needed to show her. To teach her what to expect; demand from her lover.

I picked her up in my strong arms, which drew another mewling sigh from her, then lay her gently on the edge of the bed. I leaned down over her and kissed her lips tenderly. She returned by affection needily. Then I made my way down her throat to her breasts and spent a good ten minutes loving them. Outlining them with my tongue, flicking her nipples with my tongue and sucking her nipples and nearly the whole of each globe into my mouth. Leaving her with deep, dark hickies covering her gorgeous freckles.

She was surprised when this loving, passionate attention illicit a violent orgasm from her. She'd had no idea her tits were powerful errogenous zones.

I then made my way slowly down her flat tummy, kissing and suckling.

I lashed my tongue across both of her furry labia, then stopped to inquire, "Has James done this before?"

She spoke timidly, "Yes, to get me wet before... you know. But I am very, very wet, so you don't have to kiss me there. I know its disgusting..."

This poor girl. Such misconceptions holding her back. I could not imagine it was James' fault, from what she said he was into. She had probably been discouraging him because she thought she was nasty.

I traced my tongue over her labia again, being rewarded with an appreciative gasp. "Miss Martha, you need to know something. And hear me, ma'am, because I know. There is not a single inch of your beautiful body that is disgusting... to me or to James. Your sexy pussy (I used the rough language on purpose) is my favorite meal. And it will be James' too, if you let him."

"Nooo..." Wanting desperately for it to be true, but being in denial.

I leaned in, grasping both of her buttocks firmly, then finding her clit with my tongue and lashing it several times.

She squealed and involuntarily shoved her sex upwards against my face rhythmically. I knew what her soul was telling her, regardless of what she might say. She did not give a flying FUCK whether I liked it or not, as long as I kept making her feel like that!

But I DID like it. I liked it a lot. And it showed.

I used every trick I knew. I gently sucked her lips into my mouth, tracing them with my tongue. I slowly penetrated her with my hardened tongue, trying to reach her G-spot. I flattened my tongue and gently bathed her clitoris. Then I pointed my tongue and used it to lash her clit from different directions... then seemingly, to her, from several directions at once.