Lydia awoke to see George's smug face grinning down at her. She glanced at the bedside clock and groaned.
"Whaddaya want?" she murmured sleepily.
George pinched her cheerfully on the ass and climbed out of bed. He stroked his cock happily.
"You're married to quite a stud, baby," he remarked proudly. "No matter how drunk I get, I can still give you a nice fuck."
Lydia rolled over and buried her head under the pillows. She didn't have the heart to tell George that the fuck he had given her hadn't done her any good. She didn't even bother getting up to fix him breakfast. Let good old super-stud fix his own eggs and bacon. Lydia was going to go back to sleep and get a little rest.
Lydia got up as soon as she heard George pull out of the driveway. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table, deep in thought. She could still feel the familiar tingle in her hot, steaming pussy. Getting off with the vibrator just wasn't enough for her any more. Her demanding pussy twitched and tingled. She was going to have to get some better kind of satisfaction from somewhere!
Lydia lit a cigarette and tried to think of something besides fucking. Nothing worked, though. Her pussy twitched and throbbed insistently. All she could think of was cock, cock and more cock!
When Lydia and George were first married, George had been proud of his sexy wife. He had even used to brag to his friends about how he had married a little, sexy nympho. He used to claim that Lydia never could get enough of his long, pulsing cock. Lately, though, his attitudes seemed to have changed. George just wasn't that interested in sex any more. He was more turned on with the idea of having a beer with friends than he was in going to bed with Lydia. Then, when he did get around to fucking her, it was quick and businesslike. Lydia knew that George just wasn't as interested in her lush body and her sexy charms as he used to be. The novelty seemed to have worn off for George. Lydia knew exactly how George felt, but that didn't stop her aching pussy from making demands for more and more fucking.
Lydia knew that George was in a rough position. He didn't want her to find herself another lover, but he couldn't keep up with the demands she placed on his stiff prick, either. Lydia's demands for cock were making George a physical wreck. Two or three times a week were enough for George, but that didn't even begin to satisfy Lydia.
Lydia knew all this, hut she couldn't stop the constant hunger in her hot, little pussy. If George couldn't satisfy her, she would just have to find someone who would!
Lydia sipped her coffee and thought of ways to get cock. A fleeting smile passed over her face as she thought of seducing the TV repairman, or maybe even the grocery boy. Then the back doorbell rang.
"Hi there, sexy," Betsy Dillon's cheerful voice greeted her. "My! You certainly look fierce this morning! What happened? Get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"
"Not exactly," Lydia replied. A blush spread over her pretty face. She decided she might just as well level with Betsy on what was bothering her. Maybe Betsy had some ideas. "I was just trying to figure out a way to jazz up old George so he'd fuck me properly," she answered, frying her best not to blush.
Betsy giggled. Then she reached over and pinched Lydia's rounded ass-cheeks. "I'll bet you didn't get any cock last night," she teased. "George got so plastered at our house that he couldn't possibly have gotten it up, right?"
Lydia blushed even deeper. "You're kind of right," she answered, pouring a cup of coffee for her friend. "George got it up, but he sure didn't keep it for long. Just enough to get me all hot and bothered and then he fizzled out on me. I sure wish George would fuck me like he used to!" Lydia gazed piercingly at Betsy. "You don't seem very contented this morning either. How about you? Did Sam give you any fucking last night?"
"Shit, NO!" Betsy replied, irritation showing in her voice. "Sam got drunk, too. All he managed to do was to pat me on the ass and start snoring. I don't know what we're going to do with those husbands of ours. Sam hasn't been interested in any fun and games for so long that I think he's forgotten what a cock is for!"
Lydia giggled. "Well, George certainly can't remember what a pussy tastes like, it's been so long since he got his tongue in one," she retorted. Then she clamped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. "Oh, God! I didn't mean to say that!"
Betsy merely laughed. Lydia was indeed ready for her brand of loving!
"I think we'd better plan on another way to get our satisfaction," she said, squeezing Lydia's hand. "It's a pity, for two hot-blooded women like us to go neglected."
Just then Marylou Wilson bounced into the kitchen. Marylou always bounced when she walked. She was a heavyset Southern belle and her lush body quivered and jiggled as she moved.
"Sorry I'm late, girls," she said. She settled her quivering bulk into a chair. "What's that y'all say about bein' neglected?" she asked. "Sounds like Sam and George haven't been doin' enough fuckin' and suckin' to suit y'all."
Lydia and Betsy looked at each other and then burst into laughter. Marylou never ceased to shock them with her off-color remarks, even though they should have gotten used to her by now. It was just that Marylou looked like a prim and proper Southern lady and it was hard to believe that she would say something like "fuckin'" or "suckin'" even to her most intimate friends.
Marylou laughed at their shocked expressions. "Y'all just goin' to have to get used to me," she said, grinning wickedly. "Y'all know I say whatever's on my little ole mind!"
Betsy recovered first. "You're right, Marylou," she admitted. "Sam and George just aren't interested in us any more and we're trying to figure out some way of getting what we need."
Marylou laughed raucously. "I know just what y'all mean," she replied. "We've got a cock shortage. Henry hasn't given me a good fuckin' for weeks! And Henry's so fuckin' straight that I can't even whip out my little ole plastic vibrator to satisfy my hungry pussy. If Henry'd loosen up a little bit, we could work out somethin' but y'all know Henry! Mr. Straight Guy, himself!"
"We could always go out to the singles bar and pick up a couple of studs," Lydia suggested, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "If our husbands won't fuck us, I'll bet there are plenty of guys that will!"
"No way!" Betsy argued vehemently. "We might get caught and I'm not about to give up my nice comfortable house and marriage for one night in the sack!"
Betsy was just thinking about bringing up the possibility of other kinds of satisfaction, including, naturally, her own brand of woman-love, when Marylou jumped up so suddenly that she almost upset the chair.
"I've got it!" Marylou screamed happily. "I've got the answer to all our problems! We can have a ball and still hang on to our precious little ole marriages. No one will ever know how y'all get your jollies if y'all do exactly as I say!"
Betsy and Lydia leaned forward eagerly. Marylou certainly had their full attention. If there was some way of having their cake and eating it, too, Betsy and Lydia were all for it!
"Y'all know those weird kind of underground newspapers?" Marylou asked. "Well, we could answer one of those ads for guys to come out and fuck us. It'll be strictly business. What do y'all think of that?"
Not more than an hour passed before the three horny women were again seated at Lydia's kitchen table, a copy of Shaft spread open before them. All three women scanned the classified ads eagerly and Betsy gasped. "Listen to this!" she remarked and began to read aloud: "LONELY? CALL KURT AT 828-7756. EXPERT AT FRENCH LOVE. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED! ALL REPLIES CONFIDENTIAL!"
"Sounds good," Lydia commented, giggling in excitement. "What's French love, though?"
Marylou almost fell of the chair with laughter. "French love? Why that's lickin' pussy, honey," she explained. "Don't tell me y'all didn't know that?"
Lydia blushed, beet-red. It was easy to tell that she hadn't known what French love meant. Betsy gasped in excitement.
"That really does sound perfect!" she remarked, feeling a warm flush spread over her face as well.
Marylou managed to stop laughing long enough to sputter, "How about calling this Kurt right now? I'm sure hankerin' for some of that good ole French love!"
"You try it first and let us know how everything turns out," Betsy suggested, a little quaver appearing in her voice. She was already getting nervous about calling a strange man and inviting him to come over and lick her pretty pink pussy.
"Y'all got cold feet already?" Marylou questioned, eyeing her two friends. Betsy and Lydia blushed.
"I'm a little nervous, too," Lydia answered her. "How do we know we won't get some kind of pervert or sex maniac or something?"
"Shit! I never even thought of that!" Betsy added, her face falling into a disappointed expression. "What if this Kurt tries to get rough or something?"
Marylou giggled again. "So I'm the only one with the guts to do it, huh?" she challenged. "Me y'all tellin' me that it's all up to little ole me?"
Betsy and Lydia exchanged glances, looking a little embarrassed about their lack of courage. They nodded in agreement. Then Lydia's face lit up again.
"I know what we can do!" she exclaimed in glee. "You call up Kurt, Marylou, and Betsy and I will hide in the closet and watch. Then, if the guy tries anything funny, we'll come out and help you get rid of him."
"That's a good idea!" Betsy agreed. "Then, if everything is all right, we can get in on the act, too. How about it, Marylou? Will you try him out if you know that Lydia and I will be right there to back you up?"
"Sure!" Marylou answered, grinning. "Maybe y'all will get so hot and bothered watching, that you'll get it on in the closet. We could save a lot of money that way!"
Betsy blushed again. "I won't be silly, Marylou!" she answered a little too quickly, aware that another blush was spreading over her face. Sometimes it seemed as if Marylou could read her mind.
Lydia and Betsy sat quietly while Marylou went to use the phone. They carefully avoided each other's eyes. Both women were nervous but they were tremendously excited as well. Betsy could scarcely keep her hands from dropping under the table to feel her moist, throbbing pussy. She knew that Lydia was probably having the same kinds of feelings but she didn't dare say anything yet. She was going to wait until Lydia was all turned on by watching Marylou and this guy with the French love and then she'd make her move!
When Marylou came back to the kitchen, she was whooping in excitement. "He'll do it!" she hollered. "It's time for cock, girls! He sounds really neat over the phone and he says he's got a tongue that never gets tired. I'd better hurry and get my work done. He's goin' to meet me here at two!"
Betsy and Lydia just sat there and stared at each other after Marylou left. "Do you really think she'll go through with it?" Betsy finally asked, not believing that such a kinky adventure was actually happening to them.
"She sure sounds like it!" Lydia replied, shaking her head in wonder. "I wouldn't have the nerve to do it first. She's had to put up with Henry for all these years, though. He's a real stick in the mud! No wonder Marylou's ready for kicks!"
Betsy got up to go. "I'd better check in at home," she said, starting out the door. "It sounds like we're going to have one hell of an afternoon!"
"I just don't believe it," Lydia mumbled.
She stacked the dirty coffee cups in the dishpan. Then her slim hand wandered down to her still-hungry pussy and rubbed gently at the hard, little nub of her throbbing clitty.
"I don't know if I'll make it until this afternoon," she murmured, tweaking her little protruding love button with her thumb and finger. "I'm so horny right now, just thinking about it, that I'm almost ready to jump out of my skin!"