I awoke alone Friday morning, wondering why my husband wasn't still with me. We had shared an incredible oral sex session late last night, and I had hoped to give him another sexy blow job when we woke.

Slipping on my robe and after stopping in the bathroom to pee, I made my way downstairs.

Barry was sitting at the kitchen table reading the sports section.

"Last night was incredible," I said.

He looked up from the paper, and with a rather distasteful tone in his voice, he said, "I hope so 'cause I missed the comeback of the century. The Bucs scored three TDs in the fourth quarter and beat the Colts by two."

I didn't fully understand until he added, "I copped out on the guys to come home and service you and missed the best comeback in years."

I was instantly pissed at him and nearly screamed, "Service me!"

He just shook his head yes.

"You fucking bastard, if I remember correctly, it was me that got down on my knees and sucked you off," I hissed.

Barry looked up again and just said, "Whatever."

Tears welled up in my eyes. This fucking football zombie would rather watch a fucking game instead of having me suck his cock and swallow his sticky cum load. I turned and ran up the steps to the bedroom.

Flopping down on the same bed where we cuddled so tenderly after incredible shower sex, I cried my eyes out for nearly an hour. And the longer I cried, the more enraged I got.

His words "service me" burned into my brain. I'd show him about servicing someone. He wouldn't get close to being serviced until long after the Pro Bowl, if at all.

I heard the faint sound of the garage door opening and knew the bastard was leaving for the office. In my fit of rage, I fumbled through my purse and found Franklin's business card. Staring at it for a moment, I thought about his massive cock and how it would feel stuffed in my throat.

My mind raced, wondering if I should call him now. After all, it was only a little past nine in the morning, and he was most likely hard at work already. I knew once I dialed his number, I would be obligated to make good on the gauntlet I'd thrown down for him to fuck my mouth with every inch of his enormous black cock.

I wasn't sure I was up for the challenge and returned his card to the secret compartment in my purse.

Even though I decided not to contact Franklin, I was still mad enough that I knew I wanted another man's cock buried inside me today. Perhaps Sam would be interested in a Friday afternoon roll in the hay. If not, I could always head to the mall and spend a couple hundred of that bastard’s hard-earned dollars.

I slipped on a pink lace thong and slid into a similar-colored sundress. A pair of delightful pink pumps and a quick hair brushing prepared me for whatever came my way today.

I giggled, thinking perhaps I'd come home to my son of a bitch husband with the smell of another man's cum on my skin.

As I sipped a cup of coffee at the breakfast table, I picked up my phone and dialed Sam's number. It rang twice and then went to his voicemail.

His greeting was, "Hi, sorry I couldn't take your call, but if you leave your name and number, I'll call you back as soon as possible."

I waited for the beep and then left him a message. "Hi Sam, it's Margaret; it's about ten o'clock Friday morning, and I was wondering if you might be free this afternoon. I need to see you, baby. Call me?"

After leaving him a message, I decided to head for the mall. After all, the mall was full of horny men who'd jump at the chance to fuck a hot little MILF.

I left the top up on the Benz, and as I backed out of the garage, I noticed Chuck Sampson, our next-door neighbor, trimming the shrubs between our properties.

I pushed the window button, and as the glass glided down, I smiled at Chuck and said, "Morning Chuck, you're hard at work already?"

Chuck set his electric trimmer down next to the bushes and walked over to the passenger side of the Benz. "I've been at this since eight this morning, Peg; should be done in another hour or so,” Chuck said.

"The shrubbery looks good," I said.

He smiled at me and replied, "Thanks, Peg, I like keeping the bush trimmed."

Chuck is a retired attorney and spends his retirement working around the house and playing an occasional round of golf. He's a little overweight and has thinning hair, but he is still a pretty handsome man.

"Where you off to, Peg?" He asked.

I smiled and replied, "A little shopping at the mall."

Chuck always paid attention to me when we were outside at the same time, and I often wondered if he ever cheated on his wife, Millie, who is a little more than overweight.

"Gonna spend some of Barry's hard-earned money, are ya?" Chuck asked.

I grinned widely and replied, "As much as possible."

He straightened up as he said, "Well, have a good time."

"I'll try," I said as Chuck turned and headed back to his work.

As I backed the rest of the way out the drive, I wondered if perhaps Chuck would be interested in spending a couple of hours working on me. I dispelled the idea knowing that cock was too close to home.

It's a short ten-minute drive to the mall, and at ten-fifteen in the morning, there were many parking spaces close to the entrance.

Slipping the Benz into park, I pulled down the visor and flipped open the vanity mirror. My hair didn't need any attention, but I took the time to apply some pale pink lip gloss and a squirt or two of perfume just in case I ran into an inviting cock this morning.

Shoe stores are a Margaret magnet, and my favorite is Just for Her, an upscale shop that always has something I like. Their inventory ranges from sandals to stilettos, with the added advantage of being very expensive. This is a bonus since I wanted to part my bastard husband with as much of his money as possible today.

As I turned the corner and strolled between their short display windows, the two young men who had the morning shift looked toward me. One wore a long-sleeved white shirt, a red necktie, and tight navy blue slacks. The other, a taller but clearly younger man, wore a green V-neck sweater and khaki pants.

I spent some time looking over the offerings in their display and making a mental note of several I'd like to try on. Trying on shoes is one of my favorite pastimes—shoe salesmen mall-wide cringe when I enter their shops.

I turned and smiled widely at the two young studs as I entered the store.

The older one stepped from behind the counter and said, "Morning, ma'am, can I help you?"

"Yes, you can," I replied with a smile.

As he approached, I noticed his eyes look down and then up again, and then he offered, "Have a seat. Which style caught your eye?"

I smiled again and asked to see a pair of black pumps in the middle of the display window.

He slid a fitting stool in front of the chair I had taken and asked, "Do you know your size, ma'am?"

"It's usually a seven but sometimes an eight, depending on the shoe," I replied.

His eyes roamed up and down my form, as he suggested, "Let me measure your foot just to be sure."

"Okay," I answered as he reached around and pulled the size ruler from the container attached to the back of his fitting stool.

I crossed my legs as he reached to slip my pink pump off my foot. "These are very pretty," he offered as he removed my shoe.

I grinned and said, "Well, thank you. I try to take care of my feet."

He looked up at me with a confused expression and then said, "I was talking about your pumps, ma'am."

"Oh, excuse me,”  I replied, wiggling my toes at him.

I often flirt with shoe salesmen, and even at this early hour, I could tell he would be a willing recipient of any flirtatious gestures on my part.

He guided my heel to the butt end of the size ruler and leaned forward to read the size, "Looks like a seven will be perfect."

I lifted my leg and slowly crossed it over the other, making myself comfortable as he stood and said, "Let's see, you wanted to try on style 4987, I believe."

"I guess, for starters, yes," I said, not knowing if the pumps I looked at were style 4987.

"Just a moment, ma'am," he said as he turned and walked toward the stock room.

His counterpart was leaning against the wall behind the register, and I smiled at him when I caught him gawking at me.

A moment later, my young salesman returned to the sales floor, but instead of coming directly to where I was seated, he sidestepped behind the counter and bent over.

As he again approached, he grinned and said, "State law requires that you wear socks while trying on shoes, ma'am."

He extended his hand, holding a pair of white knee-high stockings. They are the type that nurses wear under their pants, and I'd seen Chuck's wife, Millie, wearing them under the house coats she always seems to be dressed in. The stockings looked dingy and quite wrinkled. There was no way I was going to slip my feet into those disgusting stockings.

"They will never do," I remarked.

He offered, "Perhaps we have something on our special discount table over there that will suffice."

I stood up and limped on one shoe to the large round table displaying their discounted hose.

Flipping several items over, I found the cutest pair of ankle-high white stockings with a tiny lace fringe around the top. They were marked $7.99, which I thought was relatively high for a discounted item.

"These will do," I remarked as I turned and limped back to my seat.

He was already seated on the fitting stool, and as I slipped by, my leg touched his thigh. Sitting down, I lifted my foot toward him, and he slipped off my other shoe, placing it on the floor under his stool.

His eyes again moved up and down, taking in my shapely form.

I smiled, knowing he was probably undressing me with his eyes.

"I'll buy these," I said as I slipped the cute lace-fringed socks from the wrapper.

He leaned back, giving me a little more room, and I lifted my leg off the seat to slip the sock over my sexy toes. His eyes watched as the material slid over my heel, and I pulled it tight around my ankle. I folded the tiny lace fringe down over the top of the sock.

Knowing he was watching me so intently when I lifted my second foot, I gave him a view of my shapely thigh, letting my sun dress slip up over my knee. His eyes widened somewhat, but the view didn't distract him much. I assumed he'd had ample opportunities to look up women's dresses before, so my little show didn't faze him.

As I folded the lace down on the second sock, he reached down and lifted a shoe box into his lap.

"Here we are," he said as he flipped the lid off and slid it under the bottom of the shoe box.

The black pumps I had selected had about a three-inch heel and were your essential black evening-type shoe. Suitable for dancing and perhaps mingling at a party but nowhere near high enough to be considered fuck me kind of shoes.

He pointed the back of the shoe toward me, holding it under and just in front of the heel. His free hand slipped behind my ankle just above the lace trim of my new stockings. My toes slipped into the pump, and his skillful hand somehow produced a shoe horn to assist my heel over the stiff back of the shoe.

For the second or two that his hand held my leg, I could tell he had very soft hands.

"Always try on both shoes, ma'am," he suggested, then added, "No two shoes or feet are the same."

We repeated the same movements, but with the second, his hand lingered a moment longer on the back of my ankle, and I could confirm that he indeed had very soft and rather skillful fingers.

Standing up, I took a step or two and felt a slight twinge of pain in my toes. "Kinda narrow,” I offered.

"They'll stretch,” he suggested.

As I walked a little more, the leather did give a tiny bit, but my toes were still firmly held in place by the leather material.

I stepped before a viewing mirror and moved my feet to see how I looked wearing this pair of classic black pumps.

The white stockings and lacy tops accentuated the shoes, and I thought, "I could build a rather kinky maid costume with this footwear as a starting point."

Knowing I seldom get a chance or wish to wear such a formal pair of heels, I turned and asked, "Do you have something similar but with a little higher heel?"

"I believe I do,” he replied, then said, "Frank, grab me a pair of 9321s in size eight, would ya?" Speaking to his counterpart.

Frank jumped into action and, in a second, disappeared into the stock room.

"New guy,” he said.

"You the manager?" I asked.

He grinned and answered, "Yep, let me slip these off."

His soft hand lingered longer on my ankle as he slipped my foot out of the three-inch heels.

Frank, the quote-unquote new guy, had trouble finding the 9321s that his boss had requested.

After an anxious moment, he said, "Excuse me, please, ma'am."

"Sure, take your time," I said, then added, "I have all morning."

Just as the store manager was about to enter the stock room, Frank rounded the corner carrying a box. "Found them, Bill,” he said proudly.

He handed the box to my salesman, who turned and uttered as he did, "Two points for you, Frank." Shaking his head side to side as he walked back to his fitting stool.

Taking a seat on the stool, Bill smiled at me, "Sorry about the delay."

"No problem, Bill," I replied, addressing him using his name now that Frank had inadvertently given me that information.

Bill removed both shoes from the box and held them up, offering me a look at the style. These were also black but had higher heels.

"How high are they?" I asked.

"Four-and-a-half inches, ma'am," he replied.

"Hmm, that's more like it," I answered.

"Let's see how a size eight fits," Bill suggested.

I lifted my leg, ensuring he would get a good look up my thigh as he again used his soft, skillful hands to slip my foot into the shoe.

Instead of returning my foot to the floor, I lifted my leg to see how high the heels were. I unknowingly gave Bill a broader look at my thighs, not the underside but the silky smooth flesh between. He smiled widely at me as I realized he was enjoying the view.

I let him slip my other foot into the shoe without giving him a second chance to look up my dress.

Standing on these higher heels, I felt taller and quite sexy. I moved toward the mirror again and viewed the shoes and my legs together. The higher the heel, the better my legs looked, and with the white lacy socks, I thought it was a rather sexy image.

Turning to Bill, I asked, "Does your wife wear heels this high?"

He smiled at me as I sauntered to where he watched me move. One sexy foot directly in front of the other, moving my hips slightly in a seductive motion.

"Not married, ma'am," Bill answered as I approached his stool.

I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Don't you think these heels scream, fuck me?"

His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened as he heard me use a word, that I assumed, not many of his customers used.

I sat down across from him, a broad smile on my lips. I thought, "Time to turn up the heat a little."

"What do you think, Billie?" I asked.

He wasn't sure if I was asking him what he thought about the shoes screaming fuck me or not, and as he blushed slightly, he said, "They look very nice on you, ma'am."

I smiled sheepishly at him, knowing what he was thinking wasn't the same as what he said.

"I don't suppose you have this style in red, do you?" I asked as I again lifted my leg and gave him a peek between my thighs.

Bill was catching on finally and jumped at the chance to try and shock me.

"We do have it in red, ma'am, but I think the red ones might make you look like a whore,” he said with a wide grin on his lips.

He and I were quickly getting into a flirtatious shock match, and I smiled as I leaned forward and whispered, "What makes you think I'm not a whore?"

Bill shot back so only he and I could hear, "Whores don't spend three hundred dollars on shoes, ma'am."

I was still smiling as I replied, "And not all whores charge for their sexual favors."

His eyes widened as I figured he thought of having me fuck him wearing those whorish red heels flashed through his mind.

I grinned at him and said, "How bout you let me decide if the red ones are good for me."

"Certainly,” he replied, then stood to retrieve the red heels from the stock room.

I noticed him nod at Frank as he walked away, and Frank quickly followed Bill into the stock room.

I assumed Bill's return took longer than expected because he was telling Frank that I was coming on to him.

When he did, he was carrying three shoe boxes. As he sat down in front of me, I thought I noticed a slight bulge in his slacks, and I always accept the challenge of seeing if I can make a man's trouser bulge grow.

"I took the liberty of bringing a couple of extra styles for you to consider, ma'am," Bill explained.

Bill flipped the lid off the first box, which contained the red heels similar to the black ones I'd just tried on.

"Let's try these first,” he suggested.

Since I now had his undivided attention, when I lifted my leg to have him slip my foot into the red heels, I let my other leg move to the side, giving him an even longer look up my dress than before. The grin that appeared on his face confirmed that he was able to see the tiny patch of pink lace covering my pussy.

"Now, the other," Bill said, hoping to take another look at my lacy thong.

I let the hem of my sundress slide above my knees and gave him an eye full of creamy thighs and pink lace.

He swallowed hard and fidgeted a little on his stool as he asked, "How do they feel?"

I stood up, and as I walked away from him toward the mirror at the end of the seats, I replied, "They feel wonderful."

I turned to face him, admiring the reflection of the shoes and my lacy socks before I added, "And they look very sexy."

Bill smiled and replied, "I couldn't agree more."

"I love these. How much are they?" I asked.

Bill raised an eyebrow and replied, "Two seventy-five."

I assumed his raised eyebrow indicated he thought I wasn't willing to part with that much just for one sexy pair of red high heels.

"Let me think about them," I said, not wanting him to give up hope of a good sale.

Just then, Frank appeared from the stock room; he seemed to be sweating just a bit.

"Got that shipment unpacked," he said to his boss, then added, "Mind if I run over to Orange Julius?"

Billed looked at his watch for a moment, then replied, "No problem, take a break. I'll see you in thirty."

Frank smiled as he slipped past me and headed out toward the mall.

I smiled widely at Bill as I sat back down before him.

Seizing the opportunity to crank up the flirtatious heat on this young bachelor, I said in a very sexy tone of voice, "Finally alone."

Bill looked up and instantly replied, "Hopefully, we won't be interrupted by any other customers."

I just grinned at him and nodded my agreement.

"Let me see what else you picked out for me," I asked.

Bill reached down and slid the top box off his stack of shoes and reached for the one resting on the floor.

"I think you will like these," he said, flipping the lid off and letting it fall to the carpet.

The box contained a pair of white stilettos—at least six-inch spike heels—that I instantly knew would be challenging to keep my balance on.

He reached into the box and lifted one sexy shoe by the thin ankle strap, holding it up for me to view.

I smiled and remarked, "Now those really scream fuck me!"

I couldn't wait to try them on, and judging from the expression on his face, Bill couldn't wait to see me in them.

He lifted my foot by the ankle, slipping the red heel off. His soft, skillful digits guided the shoe to my toes and heel into the back.

"Let me buckle the strap,” he said.

His fingers touched more skin than needed as he carefully closed the buckle tightly around my ankle.

I lifted my leg to look at the stiletto he skillfully fitted me with and noticed him lean to his right a little to glance under my dress again.

"How does that feel?" Bill asked.

"Not bad," I replied as I lifted my other foot so he could slip the matching stiletto on.

His soft fingers made short work of closing the buckle, but again, he let his digits linger on my flesh. His flirtatious remarks and those wonderful soft fingers caused goose bumps on my arms and a tiny tingle in my loins.

Bill offered me his hand, which I gladly accepted as I stood on the highest pair of heels I'd ever tried on.

"Steady," Bill said as I took a tentative step or two.

"How do you even walk in these," I asked.

Bill smiled widely at me and suggested, "You have to pretend you don't have heels and just walk on the balls of your feet."

"Wouldn't want to walk too far like that," I said.

He instantly replied. "I've seen women dance for hours in these shoes, ma'am."

I laughed and said, "I've been to many wedding receptions and dance clubs, and I've never seen any woman dancing in heels this high."

"You should see the dancers at Club Mystique. They move around like they're on a cloud," Bill offered.

I smiled at him and asked, "Club Mystique, isn't that the stripper club across town?"

His grin acknowledged that was precisely what he was talking about.

"Well, I'm not planning on going to work at some stripper joint, so you'll have to give me a better reason for buying heels this high," I remarked.

Bill thought for a moment, then said, "They do make your legs look very sexy, and those heels are perfect fuck handles."

I could feel my face warm as I blushed, hearing him use the "f" word. I suppose turnaround is fair play when you're having a flirting contest with someone.

I very carefully walked the few steps to the mirror and gazed at the reflection it provided.

My legs did look very sexy. The calf muscles taut and well-defined. I turned to face him and remarked, "They do make my legs look hot."

"I knew they would," Bill commented.

As I returned to the relative safety of my chair, I said, "They are just a little tight. Do you have them in a half size larger?"

Knowing he'd have another chance to run his soft fingers over my lower leg and perhaps glance under my sundress, Bill said, "Let me check."

As he walked toward the stock room once again, I decided to turn up the flirtatious heat on this interesting young stud. I lifted my hips, reached up under my dress, and slipped my thong off. It caught on the six-inch stiletto and stretched as I pulled the lacy fabric. I barely had time to stuff it in my purse before Bill returned carrying another shoe box.

"Eight-and-a-half," he remarked as he sat down in front of me.

Judging from the increased size of the bulge in his slacks, I guessed he was at least eight and a half. My sexy smile gave him no clue that I was thinking of his cock size instead of the shoes.

"Let me undo these,” he said as I lifted my foot to his soft hands.

His skillful fingers undid the buckle slowly while his lustful eyes tried to get a look up my dress.

I moved my other leg, permitting him to stare. His expression changed instantly as he caught a glimpse of my naked shaven pussy.

I was certain this was most likely the first time a customer had revealed herself that way. I kept the heat turned up, asking, "See something you like?"

Bill swallowed hard, and his face turned beet red as he realized I'd caught him staring at my naked vulva.

He stammered and stuttered for a moment, then uttered, "Uh-huh."

I smiled and said, "Don't be embarrassed, Bill. I wouldn't let you see that if I didn't want to."

His color softened a bit to a pale pink, but I could tell he was still somewhat embarrassed at being caught looking up a customer's dress.

"Let's try the larger size," I said, trying to get him back to the job at hand.

He removed the other eight and quickly slipped my feet into the half-size bigger. I gave him a chance at a second look, but he avoided being caught again.

As I stood up on these very sexy stilettos, I said, "These fit perfectly." This time, as I walked carefully to the mirror, I consciously tried to keep my weight on the balls of my feet.

"You're right; walking is easier if you don't let your weight come down on the heel," I said as I again viewed how I looked in these sexy shoes.

The white ankle hose offered no contrast and I thought, "These stilettos would look a lot more sexy if I wore dark seamed stockings."

"How do they look?" I asked.

"Absolutely incredible,” Bill instantly replied.

I glanced at the entry from the mall to assure myself that we were still alone, then lifted my dress above the middle of my thighs.

"And if I was wearing a tight little mini skirt?" I questioned him.

Bill's eyes roamed up and down my long, shapely legs, letting the image burn into his brain before he replied, "Absofuckinlutely incredible."

I smiled widely at him and let my dress drop back down to my knees as I walked very slowly and sexily back toward him. His eyes glued to me as I moved.

As I sat down, I offered, "You know, I'm not so sure I like the contrast of the white shoes with the white lacy socks."

He grinned and replied. "Ma'am, you could wear those shoes with tube socks, and it would look sexy."

I sat down in front of him, and as he removed the stilettos, I slid one lacy-covered foot up and between his thighs. Bill jumped as my foot slid along the inside of one thigh, his eyes staring straight at mine.

"What's this?" I asked as my toes touched the bulge in his slacks.

He grinned and slid front a little increasing the pressure of my toes against his erect cock, "What did you expect?" he asked.

I smiled and spread my thighs, lifting my dress so he could get a perfect view of my now glistening vulva. Pressing my foot firmer against his cock I asked, "Maybe sometime I could try this on for size?"

Bill smiled and said, "I'm sure it would be a perfect fit."

As I kept pressure on his swollen cock I said, "You know I have the perfect outfit to wear with these stilettos."

Bill smiled and moved his hips, grinding his rigid member against my foot, "Please tell," he requested.

"It's a black lace garter and bustier set. I'm certain with a matching thong and long sexy seamed stockings and these shoes; it'll be enough to melt any man."

Bill nodded his agreement as his cock surged against my foot.

"Perhaps you'd let me enjoy seeing that sometime,” he suggested.

"Perhaps I will,” I replied, then added quickly, "For now, I've taken enough of your time. I'll take these stilettos and the red pair I tried before."

I moved my foot from his erect cock and reached down to peel the lacy white socks off, tossing them in the box with the red pumps.

Understanding that our little flirtatious adventure was coming to an end, Bill smiled and said, "Excellent, ma'am."

He helped me put my pink pumps back on and stood before me. His swollen cock pressed against the tight fabric of his navy blue slacks. As he walked toward the sales counter, I wondered if I'd enticed a tiny drop of pre-cum from his rock-hard cock.

I was all smiles as I approached the counter to pay for my purchase. Handing Bill my credit card, he looked at the printed name and said, "Margaret, that's a beautiful name."

I reached out and touched the back of his hand, "Remember it, Bill. That way, the next time I come in, you can use my name instead of calling me ma'am."

"Not to worry, I'll remember your name,” he replied.

"Good," I said.

Bill rang up my sale and said, "That'll be five seventy-five on your visa card; I'll throw the socks in for free."

I grinned and, with a sexy voice, said, "You're very kind."

"Oh, one more thing before I leave," I said.

"What's that?" Bill replied.

"Do you like football?" I asked.

Bill looked a little confused but answered correctly when he said, "Hate it!"

"Excellent!" I said, then added, “You will see me again." Accentuating the word will.

Bill leaned back against the wall behind him, probably thinking about the next time I showed up at his shop.

As I turned to leave, Frank returned. His bright smile acknowledged my purchase.

"Have a good day,” he said as he approached me.

I smiled and replied, "I already have."

It was only eleven forty-five, and I hadn't spent nearly enough of Barry's money, so I stopped in the Second Story lounge for a bite to eat and a noon-time cocktail. Sitting there alone, I fantasized about showing up at Just for Her right before closing instead of right after opening.

I imagined wearing the stilettos I'd just purchased and the black lacy outfit I'd described briefly to Bill with a long trench coat over to hide the lusty get-up from everyone else.

My fantasy would be to walk into the store after he'd dismissed his helper for the night. I'd walk up to the counter and slowly untie the belt of my coat. Bill's eyes would be glued to mine as my sexy fingers opened the outer garment, revealing my luscious body primed for his sexual pleasure.

Bill would quickly lock up and lead me into his stock room, where he'd ravish my body, giving me every possible pleasure I craved. I imagined him backing me up to lay on a stack of shipping cartons filled with sexy shoes and lifting my legs, then grabbing my stiletto heels and using them as fuck handles while he drove his rock-hard cock deep inside me.

I imagined myself bending my knees before him and balancing myself on my stilettos while I took every inch of his throbbing cock in my mouth and beyond.

He'd fuck me from behind while I bent at the waist, touching the floor with my hands. His cock slipped from my swollen cunt to invade my tight little ass.

His hard fucking would drag me up and over the peak of pleasure as I'd climax with him pounding my sopping wet pussy, and then I'd turn and again drop down to suck him off, drinking every drop of his sweet juice.

Oh yes, Bill had given me the correct answer about hating football, and I hoped at some point before the Super Bowl, we'd be enjoying a super fuck.

I finished my cocktail and headed back to the mall. For several hours, I spent another five hundred of my football-zombied husband's money, buying sexy lingerie, a bright red dress, and several silk blouses to entice my lovers.

One of the more sleazy lingerie shops I stopped in had a selection of reading material. I picked up a copy of "The Art of Fellatio" to see if there were any techniques I could add to my repertoire of oral talents.

About a quarter to three, as I was trying on a pair of tailored St. John slacks, my cell phone rang. I pulled it from my purse and looked at the display. It was Sam calling.

"Hi, Sam," I answered.

"Hey, Margaret, what's happening? You sounded a little upset when you left your message,” Sam asked.

"Oh, it was nothing," I replied, not wanting to rehash the early morning events with him.

"Sorry I didn't call you earlier. I've been tied up all day in meetings,” Sam said.

"I understand.”

"Is it too late to get together this afternoon?" He asked.

I knew it would be at least three thirty until we could meet, but I wasn't planning on making dinner that night. My bastard of a husband could fend for himself.

"It's never too late for us to be together," I answered.

"Let me think," Sam said, pausing for a moment, "It'll take me about twenty minutes to wrap things up here and another twenty to drive home. Do you want to meet at my place at three-thirty?"

"Three-thirty sounds great," I replied.

"Good," Sam said, then added, "Listen, babe, why don't you write down the keypad code for my garage door? That way, you can pull into the garage and relax while you wait for me,” he suggested.

I fumbled through my purse but couldn't find a pen or paper. "Sorry, I have nothing to write with, but I'll remember the number," I said.

"Okay, it's six nine six nine, then hit pound," Sam said.

I giggled and said, "I'll have no problem remembering that number."

Sam laughed, realizing how easy it would be for me to recall a double sixty-nine.

"Great, I'll see you in a little while then," Sam said before he hung up.

I passed on the St. John slacks but made a mental note of how great my ass looked in them.

As I headed toward the exit from the mall, I walked past Just for Her. Bill was standing behind the counter with Frank. I waved at him as I passed, and it looked like he was making a quick move to the front of the store. No time to stop and exchange flirts now I had a date with a known quantity and, if experience held true, a known quality as well.

My shopping bags were tossed in the trunk of the Benz, and since it was a warm sunny day, I pressed the button to drop the roof. It glided quietly into the storage compartment behind the seats. I was filled with anticipation of a late afternoon fuck session with Sam.

Traffic was heavy, and it took nearly twenty minutes to make a drive that should have taken ten. Bringing the Benz to a stop in Sam's driveway, I jumped out and opened the cover on his keypad.

Now let's see....six nine six nine pound, I said to myself as I tapped on the keypad. Both garage doors glided up, and I jumped back in and pulled ahead.

My dashboard clock read three fifteen. I'd have fifteen minutes to get prepared for Sam's arrival. As I opened the door to his kitchen, I reached over and pressed both buttons, causing the garage doors to slide down.

Stepping inside, I was instantly attacked by a wagging blur of fur.

"Hiya, Buster,” I said as Sam's little dog excitedly greeted me. Every step I took presented Buster with a free leg to run around. I had to pay close attention to him so I didn't step on his little paw.

He probably needs to go out, I thought, "Buster, do you wanna go out?" I asked. His ears perked up, and he cocked his head a little, signaling that he wanted to go out.

I knew Sam's backyard was fenced in, but I wasn't sure if he allowed Buster to roam everywhere. Buster didn't care. He just ran over to the sliders off the kitchen and stood there wagging furiously and looking up at me.

Glancing out the doors, I noticed a long leash. So I slipped past him and grabbed the loose end. Buster wouldn't hold still so I could connect the leash to his collar, and it took me a moment or two to get him hooked up finally. He pranced off to his private spot to take care of business, and I stepped back into the kitchen.

I walked into the family room and opened the heavy drapes that made the room dark even in the middle of the day, but left the vertical blinds closed. Standing by the fireplace, looking over the assortment of nick-knacks Sam kept there, I thought maybe I should go up to his bedroom and strip naked and wait for him on the bed. I decided a more subtle approach was called for.

A minute or two later, I heard the garage door open again. Quickly running my fingers through my hair to give it a slightly messy look, I then pinched my nipples so they'd be sure to show through the fabric of my sun dress.

I turned and waited for Sam to enter.

The sound of his garage door opener working again signaled his entry through the kitchen door. I smiled widely as he tossed his keys on the island counter and sat his briefcase on the floor beside.

"Hiya, Margaret," Sam said as he walked toward me, "I forgot about Buster,” he added.

"No problem, I put him out in the yard,” I said.

"Oh, okay, were you able to find his leash?" he asked.

"Yep," I answered as Sam entered the family room.

He stopped when he reached the big overstuffed sectional sofa and said. "This is a pleasant surprise. I like the idea that you want to see me besides during a football afternoon."

"I'm full of surprises," I remarked.

Sam smiled and said, "I love surprises."

As he started walking toward me, I held out my hand in the stop position and said, "How's this for a surprise?"

Reaching behind, I pulled the zipper of my sun dress down and let the garment fall off my body.

The surprised expression on Sam's face acknowledged that he loved my first one. I stood before him, wearing only that tiny pink lace thong and matching pink pumps.

Turning my hand over, I drew my finger toward me, letting him know I wanted him to join me now.

As he approached, I slid two fingers to either hip and hooked them under the thin lace straps that held my thong in place—lifting them as high as possible on each hip.

"You look so hot!" Sam said as he slipped his suit coat off and tossed it aside.

Finally closing the distance between us, Sam placed his hands on my hips and pulled me tight against his body. Our mouths met in a passionate first kiss, and his hands circled my back to caress my flesh from behind, eventually slipping down to my ass and pulling my loins against his.

"I need you," I whispered in his ear.

He turned his head, and with lips against my ear, he said, "I'm here for you."

I did need him. Needed him naked with me, his soft, gentle caresses and even softer kisses. I needed to feel his throbbing cock pressed against my loins and to have him plunge into my fiery depths and love me.

I slipped my hands between our bodies and pushed him away enough to untie his necktie and slip it off. Tossing it where his jacket lay, I slowly unbuttoned his shirt, scratching his skin with my long, sexy nails as I skillfully moved down his chest. With his chest exposed, I traced my nails up and then back down over the hairy patch between and around his nipples.

My hands dropped to his waist, undid his belt buckle, and then pulled the white cotton fabric of his shirt from the waistband of his slacks.

My lust grew as I turned his shirt inside out and tossed it to join his other garments across the room.

His hands came up to cover my tits, the soft flesh of his palms massaging my hard nipples. I moaned softly under his first caress on my sensitive nipples.

I slid one hand between our loins and turned its palm to face him, and felt the solid bulge of his cock.

"I need this cock,” I whispered.

Sam moaned as I slowly massaged his cock through the fabric that covered it.

I could feel him surge as my delicate fingers tickled the head and then slowly down the shaft to the heavy sack that contained his balls.

As I dropped to my knees, I looked at his eyes and whispered, “I need this cock in my mouth."

Sam's hands came to rest on my shoulders, softly moving in and out from my neck to the top of my arms.

I brought my skillful fingers up and undid the clasp that held his slacks in place. His cock surged as I peeled the fabric off his hips and drew it down around his feet. He lifted one foot and, using the other, slipped out of his loafers. I pulled his slacks over his foot, then repeated the process until he stood before me, wearing only his white cotton briefs.

My fingers slid up his legs, tickling the hairy flesh with sexy nails. His cock tented the cotton fabric begging to be released.

"I need this big beautiful cock in my throat," I said in a louder tone of voice than before.

Sam looked down at me and uttered two words, "Suck it!"

My fingers hooked the elastic waistband of his briefs, and in an instant, they were a puddle of white around his feet. His throbbing erection stood at attention, curving up away from his heavy ball sack.

The matrix of veins and the bulging urethra pulsing with blood. A tiny droplet of pre-cum appeared at the slit in its soft flaring head.

Sam urged me again, "Suck it, now!"

Hooking one index finger over the top of his rock-hard cock near the base, I drew it down as I rose off my haunches, bringing my soft, warm lips to within inches of the moist droplet that had oozed from him.

One final time, I told him, "I need to taste this glorious cock."

My lips parted, and I extended my tongue to capture the drop of cum from his tip. It was warm, salty, and only a preview of the load of thick sticky cum he'd reward me with soon enough.

I pulled down with my index finger and brought the sensitive circumcision scar on the bottom of his cock head firmly against my tongue, cupping the moist flesh, so it curved around the sides a little.

"That's it," Sam exclaimed.

I moved forward, taking the head and its flaring corona beyond my soft lips. With my mouth still wide open, I exhaled deeply over his twitching cock, causing Sam to moan softly.

Slowly closing my lips around the shaft just behind his corona, I began moving back and forth, just teasing the cock head with my tongue and wet mouth.

Sam watched from above intently as my lips glided repeatedly over the smooth, flaring corona.

My fingers were constantly moving about his thighs, teasing and tickling the twitching flesh and occasionally sliding up to cup those twin cum producing balls as they swayed back and forth with the rhythm of my blow job.

"Deeper," Sam whispered.

My eyes smiled at him, and I slowly started taking more of his swollen cock shaft between my lips. I still moved back enough to let my warm lips caress his flaring corona, but with each successive forward motion, a little more of his beautiful cock slipped inside.

If I were a ventriloquist, I would have said, " I need this beautiful cock deep in my throat." But I'm not, and I let my eyes do the talking. Each time I took more, my eyes got a little wider.

Soon enough, his pulsing cock head was beginning to bump into the back of my throat, and as I pressed harder over him, the smooth cone shape of his cock head was wedged into the opening of my throat. Each time the tight ring of flesh stretched a little more, granting his beautiful pulsing cock access to my searing throat flesh.

Sam gave in to his urge to feel his cock buried in my throat and slid his hands from my shoulders to my skull. His fingers grasped hair on either side, and as I pressed forward, he increased the pressure with his hands.

His flaring cock head burst through the tight opening, and once inside, he pulled my head forward until my nose was nestled in his hairy pubic patch.

My throat expanded to accept its invader, and I swallowed, drawing the searing wet flesh tight around his cock.

"God, I love when you swallow all of it," Sam exclaimed.

I could feel small tears escaping from the corner of my eyes as Sam started moving my head back and forth an inch or two as he throat-fucked me.

Again and again, the pulsing shaft slipped back and forth through the tight ring of flesh. Again and again, my nose bumped into his pubic mound. Again and again, that wonderful cock head slid down my throat.

"Suck it,” he groaned.

As Sam short-stroked my throat, I brought one hand up to squeeze his balls while the other hand pinched and pulled at my erect nipples.

My lungs began to burn, lacking the life-sustaining oxygen they needed, and I eventually gave in to my need for air and placed my palms against his thighs, and pressed forward.

Sam realized my need and slowly pulled back. The flaring corona slipped quickly back through that tight spot at the entrance to my throat and then over the soft ring I formed with my lips.

I gasped for air the instant his cock slipped from my mouth. Filling both lungs expecting him to drive his throbbing cock home again in an instant.

I felt his grip tighten on my skull once again, but instead of drawing my wet cock sucking mouth over him, he turned my head up so we could look into each other's eyes.

"I love how you take all of it,” he exclaimed.

I encouraged him, "Use me, Sam. Fuck every part you want. Make me your sexy little cum slut."

I hooked my finger over his throbbing shaft and pulled the head down. Parting my lips, I offered him my throat as his cum slut.

His grip tightened, and in an instant, his invading cock was buried deep in my throat and my nose in his curly patch of pubic hair.

"Argh," Sam screamed as his cock surged to reach more profoundly into my throat.

Sam again began short stroking my throat, but after several seconds of that, his strong hands started moving my head further and further until each thrust began with his cock head resting on my tongue, the flaring corona against my lips, and ended with his cock buried down my throat.

I let my muscles relax and just let him assault me over and over in this way. One saving grace was that each time he withdrew his throbbing erection from my throat, I was able to exhale quickly and then suck in enough air to sustain myself until he withdrew again.

His incredible deep throat fuck continued until my eyes were filled with tears, my mouth overflowing with hot saliva, and my loins sopping wet with my juice.

Just when I thought Sam was going to fuck my mouth to climax and pump every drop of cum his balls could produce down my throat, he withdrew and turned my face up toward his. My eyes were red with tears, and saliva was dripping off my lips onto my tits.

"Get up slut!" he demanded.

His harsh words excited me, and I started to rise off my knees, but his firm grip on my wrists pulled me up.

"Get over there and on all fours!" Sam commanded.

He pulled me to the lounge where we'd made love the first afternoon we'd met. That time was soft and gentle, like a first time should be. I doubted that this time wouldn't be anything like the first time. No, this time, Sam was going to assault the rest of my body in the same way he had just assaulted my throat.

He nearly threw me onto the lounge. I pulled my knees up and dropped my shoulders to the fabric, turning my head to watch as he approached.

His cock looked harder than ever before. Glistening with my saliva, blood pulsing through the matrix of veins along the shaft, and his flaring cock head a dark, almost purple color.

His strong hands gripped my hips as he moved between my legs. His fingers dug into the soft flesh and then slid up to grasp the flimsy fabric of my thong. In an instant, Sam turned it into a shredded rag, and it was discarded off to one side, torn apart at nearly every seam.

Every muscle in my body tensed in anticipation of his imminent brutal assault on my loins. I looked over my shoulder, and through wet eyes, I begged him, "Fuck me!"

His fingers dug into my soft flesh again as he positioned his cock to impale me.

"Yes!" I exclaimed when his cock head touched my vulva.

Before I could finish speaking that one word, that same glorious cock head slammed against my cervix. Instantly his throbbing cock filled me coating his pulsating erection with pussy juice.

As quickly as he'd entered my searing flesh, he withdrew completely. I felt the wet length of his cock slide up between my ass cheeks, coating my sphincter with moisture. A finger probed past the tight muscle and inside my ass.

Driving my shoulders into the soft fabric, I reached around and pulled my ass wide open, "Fuck my ass,” I nearly screamed.

His cock pressed against the tight opening. I pulled harder, trying to open the last remaining fuck hole he'd yet to assault. My sphincter spread, and his cock head pierced the opening. I didn't sense any pain as it opened to allow his flaring corona access to the dark recesses of my anal fuck tube.

Sam leaned forward and impaled me with the rest of his throbbing cock. His balls slapped against my pussy as he reached maximum penetration deep in my ass.

"Oh god, yes fuck that tight ass!" I begged.

Sam pulled back until only the pulsing cock head remained in my ass, then plunged in again, driving my shoulders even deeper into the fabric covering the lounge.

"So fucking tight!" Sam uttered as he withdrew, only to assault me again.

My muscles relaxed, allowing him to fuck my ass driving his cock deep inside and slapping his balls repeatedly against my twitching pussy.

I reached between my thighs and began massaging my clit, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm. Sam pulled out entirely and, in an instant, drove his aching cock inside my wet pussy. He impaled me twice, then returned to slam his cock deep in my ass again.

"Fuck that hot ass!" I begged.

And when he pulled out and drove his cock deep into the searing folds of pussy flesh, I pleaded, "Fuck that wet pussy."

His hands never loosened their death grip on my hips, and I was sure I'd have bruises to prove I was his little cum slut.

My loins had long since begun tingling, and with each thrust of his rock-hard cock, shards of pleasure shot through my entire body.

His brutal assault was quickly driving me toward orgasm, and my body began to convulse uncontrollably as the first climatic wave crashed into me.

Sam, too was quickly reaching the point of no return, and the next time he drove his pulsing cock inside my pussy, I begged him, "Fuck that wet cunt. Shoot your load inside your fucking cum sluts hot wet cunt."

I climaxed, flooding my pussy with fuck juice and bathing his throbbing member in hot cum. Wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over my being.

"Oh God, I'm cumming!" I screamed.

Sam pounded into me, his piston-like cock swelling as his balls began pumping thick cum toward the tip of his pulsing cock.

"Argh!" Sam groaned just as I felt his cock explode inside me. Thick wads of searing hot cum were being pumped into my equally hot pussy mixing with my cum. Again and again, his cock pumped hot cum deep in my twitching fuck hole.

"Oh God, I love how your cum boils inside me," I said as my orgasm began to subside slowly.

Sam was still a twitching mass of climatic flesh, his balls straining to expel as much thick juicy hot cum inside his cum slut's cunt.

Finally, I felt his death grip on my hips loosen, but in an instant, the ringing pain of him pulling my hair replaced the feeling in my hips.

As he pulled my head around, he commanded, "Suck it clean, you fucking cum slut!"

He flipped me over on my back, my head nearly dangling over the edge of the lounge. His still rock-hard erection slapped against my face, and as I extended my tongue to do as he commanded, Sam thrust his cock past my lips and tongue and speared my throat again.

"Suck that fucking cock clean, slut!" he demanded.

I swallowed, drawing not only the coating of fuck juice that covered his cock but the last thick wad of cum from the tiny slit at the head of his cock. His balls slid across my forehead, coating it with fuck juice that had run down while he was assaulting me from behind.

"Suck it, slut!" Sam demanded again as he withdrew and again pierced my throat with his pulsing cock.

I knew that in time even his raging cock would grow flaccid and that, at some point, the adrenalin that pulsed through his veins would wear off, and he'd allow me to properly clean his gorgeous cock.

He pulled back again and, this time, grasped his shaft. Using the smooth hot cock head, he smeared what remaining cum still coating his cock all over my face.

Now free of his grip, I turned over and began licking and kissing his cock, slowly cleansing him of every drop of our combined fuck juice. Suckling his beautiful balls and carefully stroking the smooth corona with my soft tongue.

Sam looked down at me and, in a hushed tone of voice, whispered, "Incredible."

I smiled at him, slid up the lounge, and patted the open space beside me. Sam nearly collapsed into my waiting arms. Our lips touched and then parted, his warm tongue slipping between mine so I could suck it and share the taste my mouth held for him.

"I sorta lost control, Peg," Sam said.

"I love it when I can cause you to lose control," I admitted.

I wanted him to know that whenever he wanted me to be his little cum slut I'd be that for him.

We both already knew that when our lovemaking was slow and gentle, it was incredible, and today we discovered how absolutely awesome it was for me to turn into his cum slut.

Sam and I cuddled for the longest time that afternoon, talking about the incredible sex we'd just experienced and planning our next time. Our bodies were basking in the glow of warmth. We lay there together until Buster started barking to be left in.