Wanda curved her middle finger and wiggled it deep into her juicy cunt slit.
"Hhhmmm," she purred softly. "Aaahhh!"
Through eyes half closed and damp with tears of desire, she glanced again at the clock. Just after five. Good, her husband Jack would be home any minute. He'd have a drink to relax from the pressures of his job and then give her the ripping good fuck she hungered for so wantonly.
The sharp ring of the telephone bell shattered her misty visions of their frantic lust.
"Hi, honey… it's me," Jack said. In the background Wanda could hear rattles and clanks from the noisy warehouse that he supervised.
"Oh, Jack," she answered with a breathy moan, "I was just thinking of you…" Her voice drifted off in a mellow haze as her finger worked deeper into her twat. Wanda could almost feel what Jack's big cock would do in the place of her finger. "I've missed you so much today!"
"Er, yeah… I've missed you too." Jack sounded uneasy.
"Hurry home, dear," Wanda said. "I'm warming up a special treat for you." A tense gasp of pleasure burst from her lips as she ground the heel of her hand down hard on the nub of her clit. "Ooaoh," she moaned, twisting her hand in slow circles until her cunt mound ached and seethed with restless desire.
"Uh, that's why I called," Jack said with a tremor of guilt. "I'm… I'm going to have to work late. Probably very late. Don't fix dinner for me, and don't wait up…"
"Oh, Jack!" Her joyous writhing ceased abruptly.
It felt as though he'd rammed an icicle deep in her twat.
"I'm sorry, dear. I can't help it. Things here at the plant are completely fucked!"
"It's me that needs to be completely fucked!"
"I know how it is with you," Jack said with a sigh. Wanda would turn thirty next week, but she was sexier now and more filled with lusty desires than on their wedding night ten years ago. "I'm sorry. I'd be there if I could, but we can't move shit in or out of the plant. The truckers went on strike…"
"If they're not working, maybe I'll fuck one of them!" Wanda said sharply.
"Don't say that. Don't even think about it!"
Wanda went on in contempt: "I'll find a hairy one with a huge cock, and balls as big as truck tires…"
"Bitch!" Jack snarled.
Jack's anger came from seething, guilt. The truckers had gone out on strike, that much was true. But only the major lines were shut down. All of the independents and most of the smaller outfits were still hauling. It would only take an hour or two of extra work to clear the warehouse – then Jack planned to spend the rest of the evening with Tess, a sexy young invoice clerk he'd hired the day before.
Somewhere Jack had read what was happening in their marriage – that women often do not reach the peak of their sexual desire until ages thirty to thirty-five. And by then, just as often, their husbands have grown bored at home and begun to look elsewhere for new thrills.
"Don't call me a bitch and don't give me any shit about having to work late," Wanda said in a tense voice. "I know all about little Tess and her big tits!"
"What? How could you?"
"Because you talked about her in your sleep last night."
"Oh, shit," Jack muttered in disgust. "Wanda, listen…"
"No, you listen! I want some excitement too!"
"I'll be home as soon as I can," Jack said, his voice tinged with guilt. "There is some work I have to do, but…"
"Don't rush," Wanda hissed. "And don't disappoint little Tess… I might spend the night out too!"
"Wanda! Wanda?"
Wanda didn't hear Jack's final plea. She slammed down the phone and stalked to the front window for some fresh air. Breathing deeply, a sly grin curved her lips. Wanda had no intention of going out – certainly not to spend the night with some raunchy truck driver. What she wanted to do was make Jack jealous.
Wild thoughts of what he might do to her in a jealous rage increased the width of her grin. Wanda hiked up her short skirt and stirred the honey dripping from her slit.
"Hhhmmm," she purred as she reamed a twisting finger in and out of her cunt. "Ooooh, shit!" she said as a familiar-looking car pulled to the curb in front of the house. She'd have no more time for finger-fucking.
It was her sister Wilma. Her twin sister. Her dull, boring, prudish twin. As children, the two of them looked and acted almost exactly alike. Their teachers and friends at school, sometimes even their parents, had trouble telling them apart. Especially when the mischievous twins changed roles, each one pretending to be the other.
Wilma soon tired of that trick. She grew quickly from a fun-loving child to a serious and often stuffy adult. Wanda remained a free-spirited adventurer, always seeking some wild thrill.
Wanda wore her hair down, brushed smooth and straight, sleek and gleaming like the finest sable. Wilma's hair looked mousy brown and twisted into a severe bun on top of her head.
Short skirts and clinging, low-cut blouses showed Wanda's tapered legs and lush tit curves at their very best. Wilma wore baggy woolen suits with skirts draped well below her knees, even in the fiercest summer heat.
Wanda's shimmering hair swayed and tickled the crack of her ass whenever she pranced naked to excite her husband Jack. Wilma, she thought, wouldn't strip herself naked even to take a bath unless the door was double-locked. Wanda felt sorry for Wilma's poor husband Ralph fucking her must be as exciting as fucking a knothole in a fence.
Wilma sniffed after Wanda had answered the door, disgusted by the sultry scent of an eager cunt.
"Hi," Wanda said, smoothing her skirt with spread fingers while teasing her anxious cunt mound.
"Hello, Wanda." Even Wilma's voice was dull and wooden sounding.
"I wasn't expecting you."
"Obviously." Wilma sniffed glaring at the damp spot showing through her twin sister's obscenely short skirt. When Wanda turned, Wilma noticed that the skirt barely covered the full, enticing curves of her rear.
Wilma stirred nervously in her thick, sack-like woolen suit as she closed the door. "I have a problem," she said bluntly.
Wanda looked her up and down, shuddering at the sight of her frumpy twin, yet grinning wryly at the same time. "Obviously," she said, mocking the tone of her sister's haughty greeting.
Wilma fussed nervously with her thick, drab and shapeless jacket that effectively hid a fine pair of tits that Wanda knew had to be as full, proud and sharply pointed as her own. "I-I need your help," the dour-looking twin said.
"Oh? Let me guess… Ralph has his once a year erection, and you don't remember what to do with it."
"Be serious," Wilma said in a pleading voice. "It's not Ralph. I'm having a problem with another man."
"Another man? You?" Wanda half choked, trying to keep from laughing out loud. Her sister never wore makeup or did anything else that would make her appealing to a man. "What's the matter? Can't you get along with his seeing-eye dog?"
"Wanda, please this is important! I'm in line for a promotion at work, a chance to move out of the steno pool and become an important executive's private secretary."
"What's that got to do with me?"
Wilma blushed, bowed her head and went on fussing with her dumpy clothes. "Well, Fred… Mr. James… he's the first vice president where I work. He's the one picking a new secretary, and he's giving a party tonight at his place to meet all the women who have a chance at the job. They're knockouts, every one! I know they'll all be dressed to kill, and some of them would do anything to land that job."
Wanda sighed and shook her head. Drooping clothes made Wilma's figure look like a sack of cement. And Wilma looked so glum, eyes dull and lifeless like two holes burned in a sheet. "If he goes by good looks, you're in deep shit!" Wanda said.
"I know. And the other girls are all so sexy."
"It would help if you brushed out your hair, put on a little makeup… and I've got a long, slinky red gown you could wear. It's split up one side almost to the hip, and it fits like a thin coat of paint."
"That might help," Wilma said, "but inside it would still be timid, drippy old me."
"And that's a problem," Wanda agreed. "It wouldn't be if you went in my place."
Wanda grinned. She thought it might be fun to pull that kind of switch again, but then she shook her head. "No, we'd never get away with it. I don't know any of the people you work with… I'm not even sure what it is you do."
"I can teach you that," Wilma said desperately.
"I've got a directory with pictures of the whole office staff."
"No, I can't. I – well, I had a little argument with Jack on the phone. If I'm not here when he gets home, he'll be sore as a boil."
"But I can take your place here," Wilma said. "I'm sure I can handle Jack until you get home."
Wanda smiled. The last time Wilma had seen him, Jack was the typical suburban type husband, bored and slumped in his chair, slopping up beer while he watched pro football on TV. That's when Wanda had felt the excitement draining out of the marriage and she had begun to tempt Jack, to fan his smoldering jealousy and stimulate him with all her lusty cunning. Poor Wilma would have no idea how much Jack had changed in those few months. But she was going to find out.
Wanda beamed impulsively. "I'll do it!"
Thoughts of Jack's angry cock ripping savagely into Wilma made Wanda's twat throb with strange and perverse waves of deep-reaching delight.
"Oh, good!" Wilma gasped a great sigh of relief and showed Wanda pictures in her office directory. "That's Fred… Mr. James…"
"Hhhooo," Wanda said, gulping as an obscene pulse beat in her eager cunt. "He's a handsome son of a bitch! I'm really going to enjoy impressing him."
"Er… I hope so," Wilma answered with a nervous little grin.
No doubt Fred James was an attractive, distinguished-looking man, but Wilma had heard rumors whispered at the plant – weird and fearfully exciting things about ropes and chains and a long, braided leather whip.
Wilma grinned and quickly turned the page, thinking that, at last, her lewd sister might get the brutal, stinging punishment her obscene lust deserved.
Fred James stood on the redwood deck at the rear of his luxurious hilltop home, gazing down on the twinkling lights of the city below. He smiled, thinking he'd done pretty well for himself – damn well for a tough kid born and raised on the wrong side of town.
Marrying Victoria Cunningham had given Fred his start. Plump, awkward, insecure Vicky a lard assed bitch he wouldn't have looked at twice except he knew her father owned the largest factory in that part of the state.
The rich young studs Vicky grew up with would have nothing to do with her. Shit, why should they? When you've got the bucks, you can get the best. So Vicky started slumming to get her kicks as soon as she was old enough to drive her own car.
She'd go down the hill from her father's big house to some dingy waterfront bar where sailors, dockhands and hoods all sulked in the smoky gloom – rough, lonely men with lust-crazed cocks who didn't give a shit what she looked like as long as she had money and wanted to fuck.
Vicky loved the power that wealth gave her over them. They worshipped and chased after her like humble fucking sex slaves. All but Fred. He proved to be smarter than mass. He ignored her until she chased after him. Then he dragged her to his place and threw her across the bed.
"I don't give a shit how much loot your old man has," he sneered. "To me you're just another fucking cunt!"
That excited Vicky all the more, but fear took over when she saw Fred's huge cock swollen and straining with wild desire.
Vicky screamed and leaped off the bed, lunging for the door.
Fred snagged her by the hair and threw her back. "You fucking rich whore!" he roared. "You came down here sniffing for cock, and cock is what you're going to get!"
Fred dropped his pants and stood over Vicky's trembling body, leering as he flogged his huge prick with one powerful hand. Vicky scrambled clumsily off the bed and lunged for the door, another scream of terror swelling her quaking tits. Fred silenced her with a vicious backhand slap that sent her sprawling in a heap at his feet.
"Get this straight, cunt… I'm not your fucking puppet! You are mine! When I pull the strings, you dance!" Fred never missed a beat of pounding on his heated cock. All his life Fred had been pushed around, made to bow and scrape by fat bastards with big money. No more. Now it was his turn to push back.
Fred pulled four strands of thin but incredibly strong nylon cord for his coat pocket. They were used by deckhands to secure pallet loads of freight. He also used it when he worked nights as a strong arm collector for an uptown loan shark.
"Wha-what are you going to do?" Vicky gasped.
He grinned as he looped one of the strands like a lasso. "I'm going to tie your fat ass to the bed and rape your cunt till it's black and blue!"
"No!" Her wailing cry rattled the walls.
"Shut up, bitch!" He balled up the shorts he'd been wearing all day and stuffed them into her mouth as a gag.
"Fuck!" Vicky winced and squirmed, her mouth suddenly stuffed full. She coughed, half choked by the bitter taste of sweat and the lung searing scent of his shorts. A strip of two-inch tape kept her from spitting out the gag.
"Aarrgh!" Vicky's creamy white tits swelled from the explosive pressure of a scream trapped in her chest.
Fred ripped off her blouse to gaze at her tits, licking his lips while he watched her nipples swell and stiffen from the cold shock of fear.
Fred looped a slender cord around one of her flailing wrists, jerked it above her head and knotted it to the metal frame of the bed. Then he straddled her and felt her fat tits writhe beneath his swaying balls while he struggled to control her other arm.
"Nuugh! Nungh!" She thrashed, bucking like a frantic cow, trying to scream.
Fred laughed and grabbed her other wrist, watching the light of fear shine brightly in her widened eyes. His cock loomed only inches from her chin, long and hard, throbbing with angry lust.
"Uugh!"
He whirled around and sat astride her, facing her feet. Vicky kicked and squirmed, but he had her pinned, sitting on her hairy cunt mound, grinding down with the weight of his ass and the heat of his lust-maddened nuts.
Vicky's mind swirled in fear. She heard her skin and panties being ripped away. She saw the tattered pieces of cloth hit the floor and felt the teasing heat of Fred's swaying balls rub against the shivering crack of her puffy cunt.
"Urggh! Urggh!" she groaned.
Vicky was a virgin. She had never felt or even seen a man's cock before. She'd only teased the others who swarmed after the scent of her wealth, then she left them flat and went home laughing, feeling proud and sure of herself as a woman.
Now the chilling fear of rape filled her tortured mind. Fred caught her thrashing foot and lashed it to the end of the bed. Vicky pulled and felt the bite of the cords binding her arms, but she could not move.
Fred turned back to gaze in her frightened eyes after he'd bound her other foot, smiling as he slowly stroked his giant cock. A lump of heated foreskin skimmed over the bright crimson knob, then he drew it back until his cock stretched and gleamed.
"Hhhugh?" Vicky gasped. The sight of his huge, straining cock sent chills of torment from her brain to her cunt. She squirmed in frantic desperation and felt her seething aunt juices start to flow.
His prick was so long he could coil both hands around the shaft, which he did, pumping faster now until the bright knob of his cock bulged and pulsed with each beat of his racing heart.
Fred leaned forward, leering hungrily as he released his cock and reached for her creamy tits. Palms still warm from the heat of his cock, he pressed down on her rigid nipples, mauling the firm, dark circles of flesh while his fingers spread and clawed the smooth white slopes.
"Hhhaarrgh!" Vicky's cheeks puffed behind the wall of sticky tape. Confusion raged in her mind. She felt the biting cold of sheer terror when she watched his giant cock swing free, and yet she had felt the bursting warmth of a long smoldering desire.
His strong hands pawed and kneaded her tits like dough, squeezing and shaping her tender tit flesh, bulging her dark-red nipples upward to meet his drooling lips.
Stretched flat on her back, naked and squirming, Vicky didn't look as plump and disgusting as she did in her dumpy clothes. In fact, she had a really great pair of tits! Fred nipped at one tit and teased its rigid tip with his darting tongue.
"Hhhooapph!" Vicky's cheeks swelled.
Fred caught her other nipple then he gnawed on it, raking the thick knob up and down while he lashed back and forth with hungry sweeps of his wet tongue.
This tit-sucking sent burning swirls of torment and twisted delight racing through Vicky's mind. She feared and hated the cruel bite of the ropes that bound her in helpless submission. She loathed Fred's crushing weight on her heaving belly mound. She felt jabbing bolts of fear in the depths of her cunt when she thought of the heat and power of his huge cock.
At the same time, Vicky felt a trembling kind of fearful satisfaction. No man, as well built and handsome as Fred James, had ever given her more than a second glance. Some had been drawn to her knowing she came from a rich family, but Vicky always saw the way their lips curled with poorly hidden disgust.
Fred's mouth churned with raging desire, grinding over one tit, then the other with the fierce and violent hunger of a starving wolf. At the same time, his hips rocked back and forth. The knob of his blazing cock pressed hotly against the puffed lips of her trembling slit.
Vicky pleaded in garbled fear. She shook her head. But Fred only grinned as he bobbed between her fantastic tits.
Suddenly he rammed his cock into her virgin cunt with the force and violence of a harpoon shot deep into a whale.
Vicky's wide and frightened eyes took on the frosty glaze of horror when she felt the heat of his big cock shaft stab in, splitting her tight cunt, and squishing out a trickle of hot virgin blood.
"Uuuurrrmh!" she gasped.
After one swift stab, Vicky could only wail trapped cries of grinding joy and tug frantically against her bonds, bucking and aching to satisfy the suddenness of her savage lust.