Marina smiled dreamily as she remembered that first fuck that first night she was married, when they loved to fuck and fucked to love. It was at a time when loving and fucking were synonymous.
But then, after ten years of marriage, with Harrison becoming more like an animal after hours – God, sometimes it was ridiculous to see him leave home with his Lion's cape on Monday, and his Moose earmuffs on Tuesdays, and his Elk shirt on Wednesday, and his Beaver hats on Thursday – Marina needed lots of love and affection, more than her beastly husband could give her.
Thus, a period of life came about for Marina where loving and fucking weren't synonymous.
Now, she was learning to love fucking with somebody anonymous.
And that was why she went out to find a man who could make her feel as great as that first wedding night.
And that was why she was in a very precarious position on Thursday night when her husband was at the Beaver Lodge and she was supposed to be at home working on their high-school reunion that was planned for two months hence.
It was a very precarious position.
For one thing, it was a very straining position.
At least it would be a strain on most American housewives who were bent over with a cock in her ass and a cock in her mouth.
But it was a position that Marina enjoyed very much – because she had never realized that there were so many nerve ending in her asshole and it was her first opportunity to suck an uncircumcised cock.
And, if Harrison Bussey had seen his wife in that position, he might have been very envious – maybe even jealous, or just a bit outraged.
Because the guy with the cock in his wife's sensitive asshole was a fellow Elk who never became a Beaver because he wanted Thursday nights free to fuck his Elk brother's wife. The nasty Elk's name, who had his cock buried ten inches deep into a Beaver's wife, was named Harvey Jennings.
Facing Arney and fronting the Beaver's wife was a man who was groaning like a bull moose who had been chosen as a substitute for one of Santa's reindeer – in other words, he was in ecstasy.
He was groaning, groaning because nobody had ever chowed down on his cock like Marina Bussey could. He was a good lover of Marina's and a good buddy of Harrison's – hell, he was a fellow lion who all the other kings of the Monday-night jungle addressed as Arney, which was short for Arnold, but the long of it was Arnold Hubert Meyers.
Of course, sandwiched between the Lion's cock in her mouth and the Elk's horn in her ass was a Beaver's wife who felt as if someone was damming up her body so she couldn't shit or eat – and everybody knows you can't have one without the other.