©2024 Janice James

Andrew was with Gwen for a second night, Joyce knew he’d have sex with her. An image of his face in orgasmic ecstasy with Mary Foulton flashed across her mind and a sharp pang of jealousy shot through her. Was Gwen even more of a thrill? She tried to rationalise, reviewing all the sex she’d recently had, the revolution was giving her what she wanted, proof that she was desirable and attractive. Andrew had a right, within the rules, to fuck Gwen and she’d explicitly given her permission, but the idea that he’d chosen his skinny PA over reclaim sex with his wife left her cold. ‘as long as he comes home, he’s still mine’ rang in her head because tonight he wasn’t coming home. She dropped her shoulders, let out a long sigh and accepted. Now it was a question of coping.

An evening alone while Andrew banged his secretary was simply out of the question, she’d never stop imagining and writing scenarios, never stop rebuking herself. She couldn’t call Michael because she hadn’t had time to resolve her feelings, to process what he’d said. Somehow she felt like the junior in her sexual relationship with Rani and she didn’t know Tania well enough to even suggest a drink let alone a night of passion. A smile crept across her lips, if Andrew was having a younger, fitter, better looking squeeze for the night then why shouldn’t she? Now she’d find out if she was ‘fit at forty’ as Rani had told her a month earlier.

She went downstairs and took a light coat from the hooks by the front door, folded the belt over once and went out leaving the front door open. The city sky was like a purple bruise and a weak light shone inside the stripy tent,

“Hello?” she called at the flap. The same young man emerged shirtless in jeans and boots,

“Can I help?” He asked. Joyce undid the belt of her coat and let it fall open to display her naked breasts, French knickers and stockings.

“Fuck me,” the workman said wide eyed and Joyce smiled at him,

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

Chapter Twenty Five

Joyce was panting and dripping with sweat, cum was escaping her and running down her thighs but Alex kept on fucking her. She’d led him into the dining room, made a ‘hush’ sign with a finger at her lips and then undone his oily, filthy jeans. An unspoken agreement between them said ‘just sex, and just for fun.’

As she released his manhood she found a thick, twenty three year old cock which after a brief visit to her mouth was very soon ready for action. She dropped her knickers and bent over the table,

“Just fuck me like a whore,” she said and he’d willingly obliged. His rough hands gripped her waist and as he entered her, all thoughts of Andrew simply vanished. A hard, thick love muscle took over her reality, she was playing the suburban slut and it was her favourite game.

Now, having climaxed twice and felt the whole of her palace filled with cum she wondered how much more she could take from the super-fit sex machine she’d invited into her house, into her cunt. Alex held her neck pressing her face hard against the table while his other hand spanked her as he pounded his young cock into her relentlessly. She felt used and that felt delicious. He had no thought for her pleasure, he simply took her like a King might take a peasant wench. When he finally withdrew she was momentarily relieved but he fingered her taking moisture and cum to smear on her anus, when he forced his solid cock into her arse she squealed and wriggled but he’d held her,

“Fucking take it,” he said and she moaned with compliant joy at her own surrender. Nothing existed, just the phallus deep in her, the complete submission, she was invaded and owned and abused. Her knees gave way beneath her and he slipped out but he lifted her by the hips and held her up to be used as a fuck toy. Her soft and sensitive flesh taking brutal invasion. When he pumped his second load into her rectum he pulled her hair hard and penetrated so deep in her she thought she might shit, she cried out a primal, animal sound.

He grunted then finally released her. He stepped back glorious and proud, his toned and rippling body glistening with sweat in the candlelight. His manhood rampant and erect, watching his cum slip out of the clenching and reclenching anus that he’d punished. She lay on the table barely able to stay on her feet, cum dripped out of her arse onto her perineum, over her cunt. Slowly she pulled herself back and half stood, hands gripping the table. She let out a long sigh,

“Jesus,” she said under her breath. She felt his hands on her waist again and his mouth came to her shoulder. Gently, tenderly he kissed and nibbled, she tipped her head to offer her neck and as he kissed her there he pushed his erection between her thighs. Her head went back as she enjoyed the sensation of him on her pussy, his hands smoothing over her belly, her hips. He reached down and took his shaft, guided it to her and pushed,

“Oh God,” she said as he slowly entered, she fell forward unable to resist him. Slowly, slowly he fucked her, his hand curled onto her vulva and he found the bead. Rubbing circles he buried his length, withdrew it, buried it again. No power, no thrusts. Just slow, deep strokes while he wanked her. When her orgasm beamed in from her clit she went rigid and quivered, her palace contracted onto him like a vice and she was truly spent. He held her for a while drinking her aroma,
“You’re lovely,” he whispered then he slid out of her and stowed his hard-on in his unzipped jeans. Joyce took a sharp breath in through her nose and stood up, she was a little shaky but she turned to face the young man,

“And you’re amazing,” she said. They shared a moment of mutual admiration just staring into each other’s eyes, Joyce broke the spell,

“Beer, or a glass of wine?”

“A beer sounds good,” he said “and maybe a shower.”

I do hope you enjoyed this brief extract from my erotic novel Spice!
If you did, drop by the website and grab the whole 50,000 word story for less than the price of a beer...
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