Elizabeth telephoned, for a taxi. She didn't want to drive to town in her own car thinking that Carl might be able to knock off work early and they could go somewhere, and there was no sense in having both cars in town.
She considered putting a bra and panties on, then grinned and decided not to. It was nice to be naked under her dress and she had an idea it might excite Carl to know it, to know without doubt just why she had arrived at his office.
When the taxi arrived, Elizabeth went out and, impulsively, got into the passenger, seat up front, beside the driver. She was feeling really naughty. She had truly enjoyed her little experience of cunt flashing – all just innocent, of course – and as soon as she got in the cab she managed to let her dress slide well up her smooth thighs.
The taxi driver was in no way an attractive man.
But Elizabeth loved the way he looked at her, his lust so obvious that it made her feel all warm and wanted. Nothing made a girl feel sexier, she thought, than the knowledge that she was making a man feel sexy, that a man wanted to fuck her. She crossed her legs. The driver gulped. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel hard with both hands. She smiled and wriggled around, legs moving towards him. She knew that he could just get a shadowed glimpse of her pussy as he looked up her dress. His Adam's apple began to go up and down like a yo-yo and the front of his trousers began to lift with his burgeoning hard-on.
When he reached for the gear lever he grabbed his prick, by mistake, and had actually pushed that carnal rod in the direction of first gear before her realized that he was shifting his own transmission.
It was a perilous journey.
The driver, unable to keep his eyes off her exposed twit, almost hit several other cars, a truck and a telephone pole.
But at last they arrived at Carl's office building.
Elizabeth gave the driver a ten-dollar bill. He fumbled for change. When he handed it to her she managed to drop a fifty-cent piece on the seat between her legs.
"Now where did that go?" she asked.
Her thighs parted.
"I see it, lady," he croaked.
He reached down for the coin. The back of his hand brushed against her juicy pussy. He was having some difficulty in picking the coin up, and his hand kept rubbing up and down on her steaming cunt gash.
Elizabeth purred and squirmed against him.
At last, he held the coin up.
The back of his hand was damp with cunt juice. His face was flushed bright red and he was breathing hard.
"You may keep it as a tip," Elizabeth said, still keeping her slick thighs parted to his avid gaze.
The poor man looked so eager and desperate that Elizabeth, for a moment, toyed with the idea of sucking him off. It would, after all, be the charitable thing to do, especially since it was her own doing that he was in such a sad and needy condition. She had never been a cock-teaser before and felt a bit ashamed of herself. But still, she was determined not to cheat on her husband. Besides, the cab driver was no smooth, hairless youth; he was middle-aged and even the back of his hand was bristly with hair – and damp now, as well, the hair matted with pussy juice.
He held the fifty-cent piece up and looked at it with a baleful and mournful eye.
"That's my tip, huh?"
"Isn't it enough?"
"Well, they way you was flashing your quim, lady – I thought I might get something – you know? – more personal?"
"Why, whatever gave you that idea!" she said, feigning astonishment. She got out of the taxi, swinging her long legs across and giving him a final look at her pussy in the process.
The driver was deeply disappointed.
"And who's gonna pay for my seat covers?" he shouted. "You got cunt juice all over them!"
What a churlish lout! Elizabeth thought.
She was glad that she had not given him a blow-job. It served him right for being so impolite and discourteous!
She shot him an angry glance and ran into the office building.
When she entered the office, Elizabeth wondered where her husband's secretary was. Her desk was vacant. Elizabeth had never met Cathy, Carl's new secretary, although he had told his wife all about her. He'd told her that Cathy was sixty years old and going bald, in fact.
He'd probably sent Cathy out for coffee, she supposed.
She went through to his inner office and walked in, without knocking, as a wife has every right to do. She stopped dead in her tracks.
It was a sight that could have stopped a locomotive.
Carl, stark naked, was flat on his back on the floor.
A nubile blonde girl was squatting on his hard prick, sliding up and down his prick like a fireman on a pole. Her big tits flopped lewdly. They seemed inflated, as if they were dragging her up as she rose. Then her cunt sucked her back down relentlessly. Her firm rounded ass was grinding and her belly was heaving. Her slim back was to the door. Elizabeth could see her husband's fat, thick-veined prick vanish up the girl's slot, then come sliding out slathered with cum juice.
"Well!" she said.
Carl cleared his throat and the girl looked back, wide-eyed, over her shoulder. She did not stop fucking, however – nothing ever startled Cathy enough to cause her to miss a stroke in the middle of a fuck.
"Er… I don't believe you've met my secretary, Miss Jenson. Cathy, this is my beloved wife…"
"Pleased to meetcha," said Cathy, fucking away merrily on the boss' big prick and hoping that his wife was not the sort to interfere with business at the office.
"A sprightly sixty-year-old woman, indeed!" Elizabeth said with heavy sarcasm.
"Sixty? I'm only eighteen," Cathy protested.
"I-I must have read her application wrong, dearest," Carl explained with a sheepish grin.
Eighteen? Elizabeth thought, as it registered.
Why, that dirty bastard has been fucking the ass off a teenager, while I've been faithfully resisting them!
"Perhaps you had better – err – dismount now, Cathy," Carl suggested.
"Huh? Gee, I haven't finished yet," the dutiful office worker said. "And neither have you."
Elizabeth set her jaw resolutely.
She had come here to have an orgasm and she was damned well going to have one! One way or the other…
"You stay right where you are, Miss Jenson," she said.
"You can call me Cathy," the girl said, friendly as could be, as she continued to fuck on Carl's meaty tower of cock meat.
Elizabeth stood over them. She raised her dress. Carl gulped when he saw she was, not wearing any panties and that her cunt was parted into a juicy oval and the insides of her thighs were slippery. She let him look for a moment, just as she might have let him look at a gun she was training upon him in a threatening fashion.
Then she sat down on his face.
"You're going to suck me off, you swine," she said.
"Certainly, dearest," he croaked.
Carl was relieved to find that hewas going to escape from this indelicate situation as easily as that. It was no hardship to suck that succulent cunt, anyhow – as a punishment, it failed to intimidate him. He began to lap and suck her cunt with gusto.
He thought: Why, it must have made my wife horny to see me fucking Cathy! It would do to bear that in mind?
Kneeling over Carl's face, Elizabeth smiled at Cathy, who was squatting on his prick. Face to face and sharing a man, the two girls felt a bond of intimacy between them.
And Cathy was a teenager!
Elizabeth glanced down to make sure that her husband's face was well buried in her crotch, and that he would not be able to see what was going on above him. Then she pulled her dress off over her head. She arched her back. She looked speculatively at Cathy.
Cathy knew that secretaries had to do things like buy birthday and anniversary presents for the boss' wife. She guessed that this was much the same sort of duty. She arched, too.
Their soft tits began to rub together.
Elizabeth mopped Carl's face with her cunt and Cathy fucked up and down on his prick and, unknown to Carl, the two girls began to play with each other at the top of the action. They kissed, swapping hot tongues back and forth. They felt each other's tits. Elizabeth looked down and slurped a fat nipple into her lips, sucking on it avidly. Then Cathy gave her nipples a juicy suck, in turn.
Fooling around with another woman was fun, Elizabeth decided, although Cathy was manifestly no virgin, and she had figured it would be lots better with an innocent girl – a virgin whose hot cunt was not stuffed full of prick and, therefore, not available for tonguing. Still, it was a pleasant initiation.
Elizabeth had decided she no longer had to suffer any qualms about committing adultery, no that she knew her husband cheated on her and, even as she worked her creaming cunt around on his face, she was thinking about Jimmy and Brenda and tomorrow.
And poor Carl thought he had got out of it easily.
Sucking on Elizabeth's tongue and feeling her tits, Cathy fucked her cunt all the way down on Carl's prick and felt his jism gush into her cunt as he came. Her cunt melted with him. She continued to rise and fail as she worked off their shared climax to the end.
Elizabeth's pussy creamed in Carl's face. She, too, squirmed about to work off every wave of the thrill and every drop of her cunt juice.
Then she gave Cathy a grateful kiss and dismounted. She puffed her dress back on while Carl eyed her nervously. Cathy was still squatting on his prick, waiting for it to shrink before she dragged her pussy off the big cunt stuffer, getting the terminal pleasure from his dying hard-on.
"I'll see you, at home," said Elizabeth.
She looked calm, he thought, not at all angry or hurt. But he wasn't looking forward to going home that evening. Elizabeth turned and walked out of the office.
"What a pleasant woman your wife is," Cathy chirped.
Carl gaped at her. But she was as dumb as that remark made her sound. Carl, with his head burial in Elizabeth's crotch, like an ostrich in the sand, had not been aware of what had been happening between the two women as they rode his cock, and tongue…
Elizabeth halled a cab in front of the office building.
Slat was hoping that it would be the same cab she had taken to come here, for she was determined to cheat on Carl now and she flagged that cab driver who deserved a nice blow job, or a fuck – or both – from the woman whose cunt got pussy juice on the seat covers.
But the cab driver was a woman.
It took Elizabeth a few moments to deduce that, in fact, for the woman had short, steel gray hair and a brawny build. There was an anchor tattooed on her forearm and a heart, with the word "Mother", on the back of her big, callused hand.
"Where to, beautiful?" the driver asked, in a voice like a bullfrog.
Why, I do believe this taxi driver is a lesbian! thought Elizabeth. But she did not want to make love to a masculine woman – not at all. She wanted a soft, feminine, teenaged virgin – quite the opposite. She pondered for a moment. She didn't suppose that it would do any harm to let this woman suck her cunt, just out of kindness. But she had just been sucked and, anyhow, she was more interested in doing the sucking than getting it – provided the girl was someone like Brenda Dimbleby.
She gave the driver her address.
During the ride home, just for the hell of it, she managed to accidentally let her skirt ride up high enough so that the driver could get a nice long look at her pussy – but that was as far as it went. She gave the woman a generous tip – in lieu, of her cunt – and felt annoyed with herself for having become such a blatant exhibitionist, as well as a teaser of both cock and cunt.
Tomorrow, however, fully justified now, due to her husband's misbehavior, Elizabeth planned to do no teasing whatsoever.
Well, just a little bit, maybe, just to get someone interested.
Which one would it be? Would Jimmy arrive ahead of time, or would Brenda?
Oh! Suppose they both arrive at the same time? she thought.
The thought disturbed her for a moment. Then she grinned.
It would only mean that they had a threesome, that was all – and a delightful thought it was.