Walter Kresky's Loving Wife

Like a good lap dance recipient Walter knew better than to touch the dancer. It was against house rules. He could only sit there passively while she slid and grinded her so very hot cunt against his thigh. He could though feel the heat of her cunt escaping through the gusset of her costume, perhaps even a bit of moisture as well. A man so much enjoys witnessing his wife becoming aroused and that often can take some work. At the moment, however, Walter only needed his leg for that, as his wife was humping and grinding against it like a bitch dog in heat. Many a dancer at a club had done that for him, with him, but none with as much sincerity and earnestness as Joanna.

When she was younger Joanna would rarely get so obviously raunchy in her dry humping with a date, although at times it did get to comparable points, at which time they would stop, or one of them would get off. Surprisingly so the boy would often be the one to call it quits, not wanting to cum in his pants and leave an obvious wet stain. She would not have that problem, at least not as seriously, and she could often bring herself to a trembling, quivering climax. But, not tonight. She wasn't ready, yet. She slid off her husband's thigh, indeed leaving a bit of a wet stain on his slacks.

But, she didn't move far. She sat right back down on him, this time entirely on his lap, her knees on either side of him, bring her hot, moist gusset to his erection, so they could more properly dry hump.

This is how Walter really liked his lap dance, where the girl was actually grinding her soft cunt on his erection. It was the closest to actually having sex one could obtain in a lap dance, one in which she was grinding and gyrating on his cock just like she would if it was actually driven up inside her, clearly driving her crazy as she thrust and humped his erect dick.

It was this way that Walter would often cum at a strip club. The physical intensity of the intimate friction against his cock, coupled with the visual spectacle of her humping on his lap, her boobs wiggling just inches from his eyes, was always just too much for him. He much preferred to cum when the girl was applying her lips to his bulge, but only managed to do so once. The girls usually pulled away too quickly for that. Still, the one time it did happen the stripper had stayed there, smiling as she felt his cock twitch in his loose slacks, kissing him as she felt the moisture seeping through the cloth. He so much wanted to have this girl again, in a future visit to the club, but she apparently left and, of course, he never knew her real name.

Joanna leaned forward, wrapped her arms around him, squeezed his face against her breasts, and whispered into his ear, "Would you like a happy ending, sir?"

"Yes, yes," Walter gasped. He would indeed, closing his eyes and thrusting his crotch against her cunt.

"Well, we can't do that here," Joanna replied, pulling away from her husband, crawling off his lap. "You really should reserve such a thing for your wife," she playfully scolded him.

Walter smiled ruefully. His wife could at times be such a scamp. But she was right. He really should only do this with his wife. He could play along. "Yes, perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should go home."

As Joanna got to her feet, her legs a bit wobbly, she said, "Well, I imagine she will be upstairs, in bed, waiting for you. But, give her a little time to get ready, won't you?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "Don't take too long though, okay?"

"It'll be worth the wait," she said, and scampered off, the little bunny tail swinging back and forth as she departed.

Walter noticed that he had missed the rest of The Girls Next Door. Yet, he didn't mind, not at all. He filled the remaining time before he came to bed by picking and cleaning up the family room, putting away the dishes Joanna had washed earlier, taking the garbage out, locking the doors, and turning off the lights. It had been a pretty nice day, and he looked forward to going to bed, albeit he knew that his wife had one last play in store for him. He wondered what costume she would be wearing as he brushed his teeth and prepared for bed.

When he arrived in the bedroom he discovered that she had no costume at all, which wasn't disappointing as she was entirely naked. Well, entirely naked if handcuffs didn't count as clothing, and he supposed they didn't. Her ankles were handcuffed to the bedposts at the foot of the bed, her wrists to the posts at the top. She was a very fetching sight, her breasts thrusting up from her prone body, her legs fully spread, her cunt open for his amusement and pleasure, and a pouting, plaintive expression on her pretty face. "You won't take advantage of me now, will you, Walter?"

Walter paused to ponder the situation. It isn't too often that a woman's body is provided to you in such a fashion. What would a man do if he came upon a woman handcuffed to a bed, naked? Of course, any man with a halfway decent moral conscience would cover her up and then try to remove the cuffs. But, he would think of something else as he did so. He had to at least think about it, to contemplate it. And certainly that mental image of her when he first came upon her body would be seared into his mind, his memory, and his subsequent fantasy. It would be so nice if the woman might consider rewarding him for his gallantry, for his gentlemanly respect, for rescuing her, by reproducing the fantasy for him at some later time.

Well, fortunately, there were no guilt feelings, no ambivalence, no moral questions here. This was his wife, Joanna, offering herself willingly to be taken this way, to be taken any way he wanted. Her body now truly belonged to him. He began to take off his clothes, smiling down at his wanton wife, her breasts rising and falling with her passion, her glazed eyes revealing her lust, as well as her apprehension at what he might now do, now that she had no actual choice in the matter.

She couldn't use the key to unlock herself even if she wanted to. It was a bit tricky getting the last cuff to lock around her wrist, not being able to use her other hand to help engage the lock. But once it was done and she was firmly locked into place, she flung the key onto the bedroom floor with a flick of her wrist. "Do you see the key, honey?" She certainly didn't want to lose that. It would be rather embarrassing to call "Pic-a-lock" for something like this.

Walter considered teasing her a bit, pretending that he couldn't find the key. But, he didn't want to be cruel or anything. "It's right there," he replied, nodding toward the floor as he removed his shirt and laid it on a chair.

"Now, you'll be gentle, won't you, dear?" Joanna asked, with a degree of unease and concern in her voice, although her heart was now racing with excitement. She so much enjoyed their little games.

Walter removed his pants and boxers, his stiff cock popping out, ready to attack its treasure.

Joanna's eyes widened with lust and delight. She so much liked Walter's cock. It was so steely stiff and hard. The big purple bulb was so swollen it glistened and shined. Her pussy felt so hot, so wet, and she instinctively squirmed in the bed.

When Walter was fully naked he approached his prone wife, smiling broadly, and lustfully, his erect cock bobbing and waving with each step.

He came to the foot of the bed to get the full effect of her spread and prostrate presentation.

Joanna found her husband's leering, ogling stare to be somewhat disconcerting. She pulled on the cuffs, demonstrating her helplessness, her powerlessness.

He climbed onto the bed, his stiff dick pointing the way.

Joanna instinctively cringed and drew back, as best she could, which wasn't much. A man's cock is such a vivid, concrete, and undeniable symbol of his power, his authority, a staff one must honor and obey. It appears as and is indeed a weapon, a bludgeon, a battering ram which will assault her body, penetrate her, drive itself up inside her with such force, lust, and passion.

Walter positioned himself above Joanna, lying above her, his dick stretching across her abdomen like a dangerous spear. He leaned down, to kiss her.

She closed her eyes and puckered her lips.

But they burst wide open when she suddenly realized. He was tickling her! She jumped, lurched, leaped, and twisted, desperately trying to escape the offending tips of his fingers. She so much hated to be tickled. Well, that wasn't really entirely true, is it? She was laughing and giggling hysterically. How could you hate to laugh so hard? But it was in fact driving her crazy. "Walter! Please! Please! Stop! Stop that! Oh my gosh!"

But he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't even pause, hesitate, or slow down. He just kept tickling her under both arms in a frenzy of wiggling, squiggling, flickering finger tips, enjoying the sight of his wife's manic merriment, her tits jiggling in epileptic fury. Tears were flowing from her eyes, her lungs struggling to keep up with her giggling and cackling cacophony.

But, he did eventually stop. He didn't want to be cruel. He even allowed her to catch her breath, to regain control of herself, which wasn't easy, as there were a few more little stuttering giggles and twitching paroxysms before her body was back to normal, or at least reasonably close to normal when you have been repeatedly aroused throughout the evening, coming close to an orgasm at least once.

And, Walter didn't help by sliding down his wife's body to bring his lips to her budding clit. He nibbled and suckled on it like he was a starved puppy at his mother's teat.

Joanna had not been expecting that. She had been expecting to be taken forcefully, violently, and without consideration. Instead, it was Walter servicing her, as she had done for him that morning.

It was in some respects quite similar. Walter enjoyed doing this for Joanna as much as she enjoyed doing it for him. He was also good at it, although probably not quite as good as her. Of course, though, how could you ever really test that. A number of times they had serviced each other at the same time, racing to see who came first. It was always Walter. So, if that was a fair competition Joanna was the consistent winner.

In other respects it was though quite different from this morning. Joanna was trapped, whereas he could have gotten up any time he wanted. It might not seem like a big difference, but when one actually experiences being handcuffed at four corners the distinction becomes quite palpable. And Walter took full advantage of it.

"Do you like that, Peaches?" he asked.

"Oh yes, yes, honey," Joanna gasped. "You're so, so good to me."

"I do adore my Peach's peach pie," he teased, as he returned his lips to her clit.

"Honey, please," she giggled, feigning embarrassment at his crass reference.

As he continued to suck and nibble on her clit he brought a finger to her peach, slowly sliding it up and down her slippery wet soft slit, exploring, examining, and prospecting for her buried treasure. He knew, of course, precisely where it lay hidden, deep down in her fleshy crevice, but the hunt was as rewarding as the treasure, particularly when he reached the gate and finally burrowed his way in.

Joanna gasped and thrust her breasts up into the air with the feel of Walter's finger digging and screwing its way into her pussy as he continued to nibble so delightfully on her clit. She so much enjoyed how he nursed her nub, as he had learned precisely how she liked it most. "Oh Walter," she whimpered, wanting so much to grasp hold of his head to press it into her cunt, to squeeze his face with her thighs as he chewed and munched her button. "Walter, so nice, so very, very lovely."

Walter continued for sometime to gently finger his wife's cunt, eventually getting two fingers up inside, flickering and twisting them in her cunt as he drew them in and out, all the while nibbling and diddling her clit with his lips and tongue, pressing down hard against Joanna's button, the way she found so very stimulating, so very thrilling.

He eventually worked in a third finger, wiggling all three fingers around and around inside of her as if they were frightened and frantic little snakes, trying to burrow their way deep down inside, at times though pulling them back out, his wiggly fingers protesting all the way as they were withdrawn from their warm, wet, squishy home.

The sound a hot wet swollen cunt makes when there are three fingers forcing their way in and out is really quite obscene. Perhaps many women would have felt an understandable impulse to cover their faces in embarrassment over the profane, lewd, and salacious noises they were making with their cunts, but even if she did feel that way Joanna could not, her wrists being held tightly to the bedposts. She was captive to her husband's fingers' lascivious play, and her face grew beet red, not with shame but with arousal and lust.

Joanna was in fact gasping and writhing on the bed, feeling herself getting so close but wanting so much more, beads of sweat forming on her heaving, jiggling breasts, her face contorted with frustrated lust. "Walter, please, something bigger, please."

Walter stopped, and lifted his face from his wife's cunt, albeit keeping his fingers lodged deep inside her cunt, replacing his lips with his thumb, which now only gently massaged his wife's terribly swollen clit as he spoke to her. "Something larger, my dear? What could that possibly be?"

Joanna looked down across her naked, squirming body at her husband kneeling between her spread legs, his erect cock pointing up so tall before him. "You know what I want, dear. Please, please let me have it."

"But, honey, I don't understand. You must tell me, clearly."

It was another little game they played at times. Joanna had no difficulty at all saying what she wanted, but it was fun to pretend that she did. "Please honey. Oh!" she squealed at the sudden thrill of his thumb flickering her clit. Her breasts were heaving so hard, but she implored Walter, "Please don't make me say it. It's so embarrassing, so shameful."

"But, honey, I'm sorry, if you don't say clearly what you want, you can not expect me to be able to provide it. Is it a banana you would like?"

"Oh my goodness, no!"

"Perhaps a cucumber?"

"Walter, how could you suggest such a thing?! My goodness!" Actually, one evening she had offered, if not asked, Walter to apply the contents of the entire fruit dish to her, into her. He ate a lot of fruit that evening.

"Well, perhaps then a cola bottle?"

"Walter! That's so shameful! No, no, you're penis, of course. There, I said it! Your penis."

Walter smiled. "Penis? Honey, that sounds so clinical, so medical. Is that really what you want?"

Joanna looked away from him, feigning embarrassment and shame. She said more softly, "Your cock. I want your cock, dearest. I want your big, hard, stiff cock."

"That's much better, dear. Now I understand, and it wasn't so hard, was it?"

She turned her face back to him. "But, it's so shameful to speak that way."

He so much enjoyed this play. "Well, you must do more than just say it, dear."

"What? What do mean?" she asked, feigning considerable confusion and apprehension.

Walter crawled up the bed, over her body, on his hands and knees, his erect dick thrusting out beneath him like a stallion, a buck, approaching a mate. But, he was well past the more natural, usual goal for the cock.

"Honey, what are you doing? Where are you going with that?"

He didn't say anything. He just kept slowing moving up Joanna's body, his swollen, erect cock looking bigger and bigger as it got closer and closer, the crown looking inflamed, perhaps even angry, in its swollen shiny redness.

"Please, honey, no, I really shouldn't, couldn't, do anything like that," Joanna exclaimed, pretending to now finally know where he was going, what he was intending.

"It'll be fine honey. It will be just fine," he said as his cock finally arrived at the desired target: his wife's sweet pursed red lips. "Now, be a good girl and open up your mouth."

"Please, sweetie," she appealed one last time. "It's so shameful, so wrong. What would my mother say? Your mother." She looked so endearing with her large pleading pretty blue eyes, looking up at him in such desperation.

Walter pressed the head of his cock against his wife's tightly closed lips. "I don't imagine I'll tell them, honey. Will you?"

She just shook her head, continuing her feigned protest but thereby rubbing her lips back and forth against his penis, his cock.

Walter pressed forward and his wife slowly received his dick into her mouth.

"Mmmph," she groaned, protesting the intrusion, squeezing her eyes shut, and grimacing as her husband lodged the swollen crown of his cock inside her mouth.

Walter pushed in deeper and then pulled back, repeating these movements over and over, slowly drawing his cock in and out of her mouth, essentially fucking his wife's face. "Use your tongue, honey," he firmly instructed Joanna.

Joanna almost smiled with delight, and amusement, breaking out of character, but she restrained herself. Like she really needed to be told to use her tongue! Plus, she so much enjoyed licking and lapping away at her husband's sweet tasting cock. Well, maybe it wasn't really sweet, but in spirit, for Joanna, it certainly was.

There is something uniquely pleasurable about oral sex this way, to be lying above her prone face, fucking her mouth in a manner that one might fuck her cunt. It was truly an expression on her part to be taken in all ways possible, in all ways he preferred or desired. Of course, there were many other ways to be taken, but letting him fuck her face was a singular gesture of considerable affection, adoration, and devotion, as well as trust. In this position, he could readily fuck her in the throat, causing her to gag, cough, and perhaps even retch. But, Walter loved Joanna as well, and would never do that, certainly not intentionally, but at times he would make brief contact with her throat, stimulating a momentary cough or gag. Accidents will happen.

And, it was such a pretty sight, watching his cock slide in and out of Joanna's so very pretty face. He could and would come quickly fucking her this way, particularly when Joanna kept using her tongue on his slippery swollen plum, trying to draw his cum out from his cock so that she could taste it, drink it, digest it, perhaps even to shoot it directly into the back of her throat, where she would have to rapidly swallow before she choked on it.

Walter removed his now wet, glistening cock with a pop from his wife's mouth. Admiring its sight towering across her grinning face, spittle dripping down her cheek, he pronounced, "Well, I think you deserve it now, Peaches."

"You're so good to me, sweetie," she replied.

He slid back down to the foot of the bed and positioned his cock at the entrance to her cunt. He hesitated a bit, admiring the sight of the bulb planted in the furrow, being kissed by those so fleshy hot lips.

"Don't tease me, dear," Joanna implored, pulling on the cuffs, "Please give it to me now, Walter. I want it. I need it so much!"

Walter was all for pleasing his wife and with one strong smooth move he shoved his cock deep up into his wife's tight, clenching, quivering cunt.

"Mmmmmmm," Joanna groaned in appreciation, gratefulness, and indebtedness, bringing her pelvis up to meet the plunge of her husband's cock down into her cunt. Finally, satisfaction after so much frustration, so much arousal. She thrust and ground her pelvis, her cunt, as best she could with her ankles and wrists held tightly to the posts of the bed, wanting so desperately to bring herself to climax.

Walter was entirely in sync with his wife. They were very much in harmony, in accord, with one another, as they were indeed such a good match, such a good coupling. Walter felt even more need, more urgency, to explode, having been repeatedly stimulated throughout the evening, ever since he returned home from work, from her greeting him at the door in her nightie, cooking naked in her apron, serving him dinner in her opened waitress uniform, watching the ballgame with him in her cheerleading uniform, watching television with him in her bunny costume, and greeting him as he came to bed handcuffed naked to the posts.