Words and Actions

"What?"

"Are those your favorite stories? The Loving Wife stories?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he admitted.

"Find anything you'd like me to do?" She stepped into the bathroom and looked at her self in the mirror a moment, hefting her breasts within her blouse and examining the minute lines in her face.

"No, don't be silly," he scoffed, stepping in under the spray but leaving the curtain open just enough so that they could see each other. "They're just stories. Not instruction manuals."

"Sure, but what if?"

"I'm not telling," he said. "I think our sex is pretty damn good right now."

"Good," she said, relief coloring her voice. "Do you want to know what my favorite section of stories is?"

"Sure," he said, applying body wash to the cum on his belly and gumming up his pubic hair. "What is it?"

"Incest and taboo," she said, watching him closely for a reaction.

"Really?" He seemed impressed rather than shocked, and she could swear his dick began to stiffen just then. "That's, well, that's. . ." He shrugged and then grinned. "I rather like them, too. Especially the mother and son ones. I just don't like them as much as the wife stories."

"It's strange," she said. "I have no desire whatsoever to have sex with my children, but stories on exactly that topic make me hot as hell." On that note, she left him to his shower. He washed himself while growing hard thinking of his wife reading those stories and rubbing herself. The thoughts made him smile.

"Remember when you used to tell those short little stories?" she asked him in bed later that night.

They were lying spent after giving each other a mighty fucking, and neither had the strength to get up to blow out the candle. They just lay there with his arm around her shoulder and her hand on his flaccid dick.

When he didn't reply right away, she asked, "Are you going to jerk off tomorrow, too?"

"What did you say about stories?" he said, hoping to take the conversation away from the subject.

"Oh, well, I was just thinking that you should try writing stories for that web site," she said, lazily. "Let yourself go wild."

"Those were little stories for the kids," he said. "I couldn't write . . ."

"Sure you could," she cut him off. "Might be a whole new line of work for you."

"Yeah, well, maybe."

Her breathing slowed a moment, becoming long drawn out breaths that indicated that she was asleep. Robert removed his arm from beneath her head as carefully as possible and then snuffed out the candle on the bedside table. As he was returning to bed, Emily rolled toward him.

"Would you do that honey?" she asked. "Write something that'll make your little wife cream her pants?"

"I can try," he whispered

"Write my favorite kind. You know. A nice family story."

PUBLIC EXPRESSION

Robert pondered Emily's request for nearly a week. His time was spent on the usual pursuits. He read and watched baseball on TV and masturbated. The only difference was that Emily watched him jerk off now.

"I'm going up to get some rest now," he called out one afternoon. "Going up to the bedroom."

He entered their room and closed the door about three quarters shut. Then he stripped quickly and lay on his back in the middle of the bed, his cock waving in the air above his groin. He began stroking himself slowly, delicately, and letting his body enjoy itself while Emily crouched at the crack of the door and watched him, rubbing her pussy urgently.

Emily came before he did, a low groan escaping her lips, and he smiled at the sound as he picked up the pace and sent cum burbling up out of his penis and over his hand like an oil well.

The next afternoon, he sat backwards on the toilet just as he had as a teen-ager and demonstrated how he used to do it. Of course, he didn't have a magazine to inspire him. His inspiration was his wife sitting on top of the vanity beside him with her skirt hiked up and her underwear pulled down. One foot rested on the toilet tank before him so that she was open wide. She rubbed herself and helped him relive his youth with his very own live centerfold.

And, she watched him at the computer, of course. She was there to read over his shoulder and watch the hole in his glans open and close like a little mouth with the movement of his hand. She directed him to her favorite stories and watched his cock seeming to get harder as he read about families sharing much more than a last name.

Finally, Robert decided to give it a shot. After a day of false starts, he finally hit his target late in the evening and found that the words were rushing out of him so fast that his fingers couldn't keep up. Yes, this was alright, he thought. People might like this stuff.

His story began simply, as most stories do, and with very little hint at what was to come. He couldn't hint at it because he had no idea what would come next. He just wrote what seemed good at the time. If it made his dick hard, it must be good.

The Porters lived in a quiet suburban cul-de-sac that was a perfect copy of countless other similar neighborhoods. Seven, one and two-story houses lined the loop of asphalt that circled an island of decorative rocks. Seven houses painted in pleasant, subdued shades housing seven subdued suburban families living subdued lives of no great fanfare or excitement.

The Porters—Robert, 43, Emily, 42, Danny, 19, and Elaine, 18. They were normal, ordinary Americans living the quiet, well ordered live of a middle class American Family. They were normal; their street was normal; and everyone they knew was normal.

Maybe.

They were a beautiful family living a beautiful life in a beautiful, two story colonial house in a neighborhood similarly blessed. But sometimes perfection isn't enough, and it isn't apparent until something happens to bring the point home.

Three days later, he finished the first installment of what was apparently going to be a long series.

Emily touched his dick, and it began filling to full size again. "So how's about a little fuck, big boy?"

Emily leaned against the edge of the Trent picnic table, her bottom seeming to glow with its own pale light in the light of the moon. Robert stood a moment, watching now as Charles swatted Patty's butt, the two of them laughing, Patty's breasts swaying with each playful blow. His cock grew even harder as he watched, and he dropped his pants and stepped fully out of them to approach his wife.

Robert swatted her butt, and a little yelp of pleasure popped out of her mouth. "Oh, tough guy, huh?" she said, arching her back a bit.

"You're a bad little girl, aren't you?" He swatted her again and then grasped both cheeks of his wife's bottom. "Are you going to open up and let me get at that bad little girl pussy?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "But what are you planning to do to me? Are you going to drill my wet cunt with that huge cock?"

"Oh, you are a dirty girl," he said then, swatting her bottom once more. "Yes, I'm going to slam my rod into your tight little pussy. I'm going to fuck your cunt till you can't stand the pleasure any more." He pushed her feet apart and bent his knees a bit, aiming his cock at her juicy opening. "Now, open wide"

Emily cried out as he jammed his cock home in one thrust. Then she gripped the table and pressed back against him, choking back her normal cries of joy as orgasm after orgasm washed over her.

The ever tightening pulse of her pussy, milked a mighty load from Robert's dick and he collapsed down on her back on the table.

"Holy shit, that was good," Emily sighed against the wood. "Very good."

"We're not done yet, young lady. Naughty girls don't get off that easy."

"They don't?"

"Oh, no. I think I've learned a few things tonight," he whispered hotly in her ear. "And, after I've got you tied up tight, you're going to have some fun with Big Wally."

Emily smiled. Yes, they were going to have some fun. The one thing she'd been worried about was Robert's reaction to this and how she was going to tell him. A week ago she'd been a sexually normal suburban mom. In five days she'd turned into some kind of bisexual voyeur. She wondered what her marriage was going to turn into now, but what ever happened she knew they'd be having a good time. A very good time, indeed.

#

"Let me read it," Emily pleaded.

"Wait till it's online like everyone else," he said. "Besides, I'm busy on part two. I can't free up the computer." He was, indeed, typing as they spoke. Emily noticed that his cock was tenting his trousers, testimony to the fact that he liked what he was creating. She hoped she would like it as much as he did.

As though reading her thoughts, he dropped his left hand down to grip himself through his pants and moaned. "I do have to stop a minute, though," he said. He slipped his hand down inside his pants, stroking himself slowly. "Gotta let some pressure off."

"Why? Is the story that good?"

"I don't know, but it makes me hard as hell. I just write until I have to jerk off and then write again. It's become a routine."

"Don't stop writing," Emily said, reaching for the button of his trousers. "I'll take care of the pressure while you keep going. It'll give me a chance to practice swallowing."

She got his pants and shorts down and crawled under the table to kneel between his legs. "Keep typing," she said before her mouth was filled with cock and she worked to keep up her end of the bargain.

"Oh, God, yeah. You're a great assistant, honey."

He wondered if this blow job was going to end up in the story. He'd already named the two primary characters after the two of them. Should he share real life sex, too?

Her mouth moved up and down on his rigid penis, and he could feel the glans touching the back of her throat. That was a whole new sensation.

"Honey, are you practicing deep. . .?" he began.

"Bananas," she said quickly, stroking him. "If I'm going to do something, I might well be good at it. At least as good as you are at licking my pussy. Keep typing."

He continued typing, marveling at how surprising people were no matter how long you knew them—or were married to them. The woman who sucked cock only as foreplay had taken up doing it to completion. And now she was teaching herself how to deep throat.

She had him in her mouth all the way to his belly now. He didn't suppose her mouth was actually seven inches deep. God, that felt good.

He was typing just to make the sound now, letting the words flow by themselves. He couldn't even see the screen as his focus was on his cock and the warm confines of his wife's mouth.

"Oh, Jesus," he moaned, leaning back. Cum erupted from his cock in bursts that almost choked Emily with sheer volume. His cock had been in at maximum depth when he started cumming, and it filled her throat before she could pull back to take the rest in her mouth. She pumped and sucked and smiled up at him, a dribble of cum escaping one corner of her mouth. Finally, he was finished, and she pulled back, swallowing.

"How was that?" she asked.

"Heavenly."

"Just call if you need help again," she said. "I'm always close by." Crawling out from under the table she added, "Get to work, Mister. Stop slacking off."

And so he continued writing.

The movement of their bodies was fascinating to John Carter. He watched Terry sliding her large belly and pendulous breasts down over Daryl's rigid cock and moving until the hard member slipped into her mouth as though it was designed to be there. And, even as he watched his wife, Jenny Peterson was moving on him in a reverse pattern. His cock emerged from her sucking lips and trailed down over her chin and neck as she moved up on him, pausing to press her breasts in against his cock and then continuing upward to bring her lips to his as his cock was magically engulfed in her hot, musky womanhood. And then she moved herself on him, sliding her hips backward and forward rather than up and down as she alternated between kissing him and giving him her breasts to devour.

Then Terry was on her back and Daryl had lifted her hips up to meet his lips, sucking, nibbling, licking her to a lusty orgasm as she grasped behind her, trying to find the dick that was somewhere down there, behind her if she could just see where it was. But no, she was blind to anything but the orgasm. Just the sensation, all sensation, overwhelming and intense.

Jenny rode John's cock and leaned over to suckle at Terry's flowing teat as her husband screwed the pregnant woman carefully but expertly and then lowered his mouth to Terry's other breast to taste her bounty. John watched with a sense of wonder at the strange thrill and beauty of the world. His cock was poised on the edge of an explosive release as he watched his wife lie senseless in the throes of what seemed to be a never ending orgasm. His cock was being clenched by the moving heaven of the woman above him even as she drank from his wife's breast, milk running down Terry's side to the comforter that had been spread out on the floor. It was all too much to realize that another man was deep in Terry's pussy now, a man who was also drinking his fill. It so strange. So wonderful.

It was wonderful because of the fact was that he was content to make Terry happy in any way he could, and he knew that their love was strong enough to survive. Their love was so strong, in fact, that he could allow himself to take pleasure here, too. He had been afraid that he would be the one to be overwhelmed and stray from his marriage. He had been afraid of his own weakness. But there was no weakness when they experienced it together. There was only the intense pleasure that soon overcame him and milked a spurting reaction from his rigid dick.

"Oh, Holy God!" he cried out as Jenny moved on him, tightening, moving, sending him into an overdrive of orgasm. When she'd drained him, he felt as though he might pass out. All he could do was lie there when Jenny moved over to straddle Terry's head and lower her cum filled cunt onto her lips.

As Terry licked her pussy, Jenny took her husband's dick in hand and sucked him until he blew a load that Jenny used to coat Terry's firm, round belly. She smoothed the cum in like lotion, a glistening sheen of ejaculate, and then she stopped, tightening her thighs, gasping and finally collapsing to the side in joyous orgasm.

God, this stuff made him horny!

"Emily!" he called out. "Can you come here?"

#

"It's online!" Robert called up to his wife the next morning. "Part One is online."

Emily hurried down the stairs in her robe with her hair damp from her shower and rushed over to sit at the computer to read.

"Don't you want some coffee first?" Robert asked.

"Shush now," she commanded. She hated to be disturbed while reading.

Robert stepped back and watched from the dining room door as his wife devoured what he'd written, opening her robe as she did, letting her fingers travel down to her moist treasure as she began to breathe heavily.

When she was nearly done reading she had to stop a moment, and Robert watched as her body hunched forward against her hands and she made little huffing moans that he loved to hear when he was with her in bed. She shivered and then froze a moment, finally dropping back in the chair with a sigh.

"It's sweet that you used our names, Honey," she said. "But the kids aren't in there."

"Do you want me to use their names?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, I just thought that . . ."

"Quiet now. I'm almost done," she said, waving one hand toward him dismissively.

He guessed that his story was a hit.

#

The twins, Robert and Sarah, regarded their mother in awe now that they'd seen the eighteen year-old old video of Elaine and her family copulating in Grandpa and Grandma's living room. They were awed by her sexual prowess, and that of their grandparents. Their uncle Danny was a marvel, too. God, they looked good fucking each other. Almost as good as Sarah and Robert looked fucking each other.

"I guess we aren't really freaks," Robert said to her, slipping his hand down over his sister's nude body and slipping two fingers into her wet cunt. "It runs in the family."

"Sure does," Sarah agreed. She was stroking his cock back to life as she lay on her back letting the cum on her chest dry in the warm sun entering her window. "But what do we do about it?"

"Do? Don't you know what to do?" Robert's cock stiffened in her hand, showing great interest in the subject.

"No, I don't you idiot." She rolled to her stomach and slipped down on the bed to take her brother's cock into her mouth, marveling at the heat generated by the purple glans that crowned the thick shaft. "What do you think we should do?"

"Go fuck Mom, of course," he replied.

And that was exactly what they did.

THE END.

DUE REWARD

Robert wasn't sure it was really finished, but he felt that it should be after twenty two installments. Outside of a Martian invasion, there wasn't much more to cover. No, he'd taken the neighborhood as far as he wanted to go. And, as requested, he had finally gotten all of their children' names into the story.

"That was so damn hot," Emily said when she finished the last installment. "I think we should fuck now."

"Good idea," Robert said, immediately moving to take her into his arms.

"Hold on, Mister," Emily said, stopping him with an extended hand. "I want to take a bath first. Okay?"

"Sure." He climbed the stairs with her, wondering why she had her purse in hand but not really caring. Probably for make-up or something. "Don't be too long," he said as she continued through their bedroom to the master bath.

Robert turned down the bed and then drew the blinds to soften the afternoon sunlight flooding in. Then he removed his clothing and stood looking at himself in the mirror a moment. Not bad, he guessed, but it might be good to increase the crunches when he went to the gym. He couldn't let himself go when Emily was keeping herself in such good shape.

Stroking his cock lightly, he sat up on the bed and waited. The shower wasn't running yet. Was that Emily talking on the phone that he heard? No. Couldn't be.

The shower started up, and he settled back on the bed, his penis at the ready and his mind filled with the image of his wife's naked body below his.

The doorbell rang. Shit.

Robert hurried into his robe wondering if ignoring the bell would make them go away. He rushed down the stairs with his dick lowering between his legs and looked through the peep hole at the intruder. Sally Simpson. He didn't expect that she would go away.

She was just pushing the bell again when he grudgingly opened the door.

"Hi, Sally, what's up?"

"Is Emily here?" she said, looking nervous and wired.

"It's not really a good time," he began, but she pushed past him into the house.

She looked at him then, a smile brightening her face. "Wow, man, I'm sorry. Afternoon delight, huh? Sorry. I'll just keep her a minute. Really."

"I'll get her." Robert turned and hurried up the stairs, where he found Emily lying naked on the bed and looking dry as a bone. "Grab your robe," he said. "Sally is here."

"Sally?" Emily smiled coyly. Then she shouted out, "Sally! Come on up!"

"What?" Robert said, staring at his wife in shock. "What are you doing?" He hurried toward the bathroom.

"Come quick!" Emily called again. "Were losing him!"

"Don't go away, Robert," Sally's voice said from behind him. "I came to play."

Robert turned at looked at his wife's friend.

Sally Simpson was standing totally nude in his bedroom door. Her breasts hung full and wonderful above the slight pouch of her stomach. Below that lay a totally shaved pudendum that was already glistening with moisture. She walked into the room, her breasts swaying, and his cock rose up to press through the opening of his robe.