The Murder of Sharon Weathers Slut Extraordinaire
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Through The Glass, Into The Mirror free porn video
You can get a lot done in ten years, and for us, we strived for mediocrity. It was not as if we gave up on life, we were only thirty; we just liked to flirt with how familiarity bred contempt.
Straddling me, the bed groaned, and the dismay of that familiarity dampened the sizzle of excitement. In the gloom of the morning, her body cast a half-light silhouette.
"Put the light on?"
Marianne shook her head; I would not push it, I never did. Preening her wavy black hair, perfectly kempt, Marianne rested it over one shoulder. Naked, sat on my thighs, she looked every bit the woman I married: statuesque, not petite, and not too curvy. Often mistaken as Slavic in heritage, those angular features and deep brown eyes were the model of indifference.
If it were just about her looks, we would have a great marriage.
Watching my reaction, I could not hide my expression of hope and she diverted her gaze. Guilt perhaps at the symbol of my plight poked upright, vivid, and tumultuous. We kissed, nothing more than a ‘leaving for work’ smooch. No point encouraging me, the rigidity of that muscle in her hand did not need it.
She grasped my erection with a detached nonchalance and her impassive eyes bored into mine. Holding it firmly, she dropped her hips and I flinched with a groan. Hands running through her mane, still nonplussed, she took me upright at a slow canter. Impaled between her taut flanks, the enveloping heat forced my involuntary groans.
Painting by numbers is not art; sex by numbers is not fucking. The most important ten minutes of the week began – my conjugal rights.
Propelled by slow hips, braced against my chest, she gave me a weak smile; enough to dimple her cheekbones and open those full lips. Our younger selves would tantalise and provoke, it was all in the tempo. A pace like this, a plateau; a little faster, pleasure; at her fastest, she could drain my balls in seconds.
“Fuck…” breathless as a whisper, my quickening hips fed my lust. “Play with yourself,” I implored when I knew she would not.
Instead, my thumb found her clitoris and I squeezed her breast; two fulsome beauties, just more than a maximum handful. They jiggled when we fucked, now; they swayed like half-hearted pendulums.
This was no carnal feast; I bargained often that we could not maintain that kind of passion forever. This was the distillation of five years of matrimony, a thin gruel, irregular sex or onanistic self-pleasure. I would bang one out in the shower more often than not. Terminally frustrated, fat drops of water hit my body as I ejaculated beneath it. It kept the worst of my appetite at bay.
Her gasps brought me round, rosy-cheeked, her expression soft, eyelids heavy. My manipulations triumphed and dissolved her self-consciousness. Bottom lip pinched between her teeth, the draft of my erection buried to the hilt. Back arched, she ground faster, her body still lithe and provocative.
“Yes,” pouting, her shallow breathing raspy, and eyes squeezed shut.
Old memories of those early years gave me hope. The prospect rousing that vixen sent ripples of excitement through me. Then, she slowed and it fizzled away.
That pressure, strong in my core, needed more. Clasping her thighs, I bucked with my hips and tipped her off balance. She submitted on cue, she always did and took a familiar pose; on her back, thighs splayed, and knees bent. Looking down at my girth, underfed, thick and slovenly, it disappeared into the cleft of that hot cauldron.
The tart slaps of our bodies mixed with perfunctory moans. Blunt heels pressed into my calves, driving me on like spurs for a horse. She met me at the apex of each thrust, a grinding movement of her mons against my pubis. Clinging to me for purchase, she knew what she was doing: copulation to deliver a climax - mine. As a race, it was not worth finishing; as relief, I needed it badly.
Embracing me in an act of tenderness, tender fingers slid down the canyon of my spine. Its juxtaposition threw me off my stride. In those earlier years, her frantic body was a match for my attentions. She would entice me for more, yelp hard and her talons always left their mark when she climaxed. The force of those deep muscular convulsions tipped me over the edge and we would ride the storm together. I yearned for those days, collapsed as a mess of clammy limbs, sweaty and covered in the musk of our congress.
She was nowhere near close to that. Now, we barely got out of breath. I knew she felt that tell-tale swell because she went in for the kill – my nipples. Two thumbs assaulted them, hardwired to my loins, and my hips stuttered.
“Come… come…”
Too much strength in her voice, her matrimonial duties performed; my time was up. She knew it; I knew it, and that apathetic tension became a feeble ripple of spasms. Right on cue, I withdrew and her hand grasped me. Eyes unquestioning and vacant, her aloof grip delivered my tepid orgasm. The only evidence of our tryst, thin streaks of semen slashed across her flat stomach.
A hint of pink in her cheeks, no more than a canter for the bus, Marianne looked amused.
More annoyed than relaxed by the fleeting warmth of sexual relief, I knew there was a lot where that came from. I would take care of that, under the shower, alone.
We embraced, warm and comfortable under the duvet. My eyelids heavy, it would have to do I bargained, it was better than most Sundays.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
In the post-coital aftermath, Marianne never challenged me. Resting her head on my chest, we dozed just like any other Sunday morning.
I felt a shove and the bed bounced back, “Huh, What? Huh?”
A little bleary-eyed, she came into focus, skittish with an agitated expression.
“Jack, come quick, you need to see this.”
“Huh, I must have dozed off. Is it time for lunch?”
I got another shove and kept my peevishness to myself.
“Come on Jack, you have to see this.”
I hated her in that short black satin kimono, a Christmas present, cheesy and desperate. Convinced she wore it to drive me insane; it clung to her peachy arse too much. Her gait shimmered in the light as the embodiment of my sexual frustration. Still naked in a docile haze, I stomped down the corridor, past the bathroom, spare bedroom, through the open kitchen into the lounge. With its full-length windows, living on the fifth floor, our vertical blinds kept prying eyes out.
Marianne pointed, “Look through there.”
Peering through a gap, my eyes widened. She waited for my reaction as I turned to look at her.
I did not know how to react, chide them, and walk away, or be amused and watch. I took my lead from Marianne peering through another gap. Her avid expression, wide eyes like saucers; I watched because she watched. I chose not to say anything and spoil the moment; I wanted to see where this was going.
“I’ll turn off the lights.”
I had no idea why I was whispering.
With a click, we became invisible in the overcast spring daylight. Peering out through a chink in the blinds, ‘they’ were a threesome. A naked couple stood before a woman on her knees.
“Ooh, she’s sucking his cock.”
The frisson of Marianne’s words surged through me; that was blatant by her standards. I stared at her; she did not flinch, features rapt in the spectacle. How it came to me, I do not know but a powerful impulse commanded me. So engrossed in the view across the quadrangle, she did not make her usual enquiry on my every move.
Picking up my digital SLR camera, I scampered back to the lounge. Marianne remained motionless and awestruck at the blinds. Switching it on, the anticipation welled as a fillip to my heartrate; I could not remember if I drained its battery. Nerves alive, hands trembling, the battery registered quarter-full.
Using its optical zoom, I zeroed in and lingered on the majesty of the older woman’s naked body; long shapely legs, a swell to her feminine hips, teardrop breasts, and a gleeful expression on her face. She watched her husband, lover, whoever, and the petite younger woman with her determined mouth wrapped around his erection.
Offering the camera to Marianne, I expected the worst. To my surprise, she took it without question.
“Fuck!” she exclaimed, “I can see everything.”
Click.
Click, click, click.
The sound of that shutter exploded inside me. We all have a kink and on this unremarkable day, I discovered my wife’s - voyeurism. Pulse racing, my mouth dried and my loins tightened. The epiphany of this moment set my mind into a spin, the revelation, permutations, the potential. I found it difficult to concentrate.
“She’s opened her legs and leant back on the edge of the table.”
Click.
“Holy shit, the younger woman is eating her out!”
Click, click.
“Look!”
Clasping the camera carefully, I adjusted my vision to the viewfinder. She held the enthusiastic young woman at the confluence of her thighs. Squeezed her breasts, she looked down for a while and then looked up, an expression of estasy on her face. Two women at it, the stuff of fantasies, blood surging into a fierce erection. With a sideways glance, I saw Marianne engrossed, a hand hidden under the satin caressed her breast.
She’s getting off on this.
The immolation of my body turned into a major conflagration; the kind that threw caution to the wind and provoked the animal within. It felt distant, as if I was ten years younger and a hint of Marianne’s naked body would send me wild with lust.
I watched porn, a lot of it; this was visceral, live from the flat opposite. Heart racing, in the silence, the rush of Marianne’s shallow breaths added to the frisson of excitement. It is amazing how you can know someone for ten years, married for five and right now, not know them at all. We met at university, young, idealistic, neither of us had much experience, I loved her, and I still did.
Marianne, cool as a cucumber, always so demure, the first to eschew adventure, and the last to do anything beyond her routine. Never a hint of being a voyeur, straight as an arrow in her sexuality and she gorged herself on this spectacle.
“You enjoying this?” I had to know, I had to know she felt like I did.
“Mmm,” she purred, “this is filthy, I can’t help myself.”
I sighed with relief, “Neither can I, looks like they are having a good time.”
Through the viewfinder, she kept her young charge firmly her sex. I could see how much pleasure she felt. The man’s penis fully erect, the young woman’s arm moved slowly, keeping him hard no doubt for his turn soon.
I felt a hand on the camera and looked at Marianne, a feral quality to her eyes, “I want to see.”
I set it to shoot video, enough battery for a fifteen-minute vignette of voyeurism, “Just keep it pointed at them.”
Peering through the viewfinder, she stood frozen as a statue. I watched her, mouth open, a pout; she bit her top lip at the salacious view.
She gasped, “They bent her over the table… Jesus! He’s fucking hard!”
Slim flanks taut, arms locked, he rogered the younger woman with purpose. The older woman kicked off her heels, mounted the table, and brought her sex to bear once more at the younger woman’s mouth.
“Filthy fuckers!” she gasped.
Compelled to understand the deeper recesses of my wife’s mind, I would either earn a playful admonishment or learn something profound. Marianne whimpered softly when the satin fell away from her shoulders. Changing hands to hold the camera, it pooled in a heap on the floor. My caress glided along the outline of her hips, along the scallop of her waist, and clasped her full breasts.
Kissing her shoulder, I pressed my erection against the cleft of her behind.
“Oooh, Jack, is that what I think it is?”
“Uh huh, would you like to be watched like that too?”
“I… I don’t know…” Marianne gasped as my slow caress edged to her breasts.
Rolling her fully erect nipples between my fingers, I caught her soft groan. I felt her squirm against me. She took my hand; the other remained on the camera. Expecting her to prise me away, she clasped it and dragged it down her body.
I had to know, the hot ire in my loins felt too powerful to ignore, “You would, wouldn’t you?”
Lower she pulled my hand, a slow decent down to the trimmed thatch of her sex, “I… I…”
I cupped her sex, warm and damp. A sharp intake of breath gave her answer. Splitting her open, its copious liquid spilled onto my fingers. Luxuriant and viscous, one, and then two fingers slid in easily. Her naked behind pressed back onto my erection.
“You would wouldn’t you?”
Writhed firmly against my erection, she gasped, “Yes, yes I would.”
I stirred at her clit, evasive and slippery. Reciprocating with soft moans, she ground harder against me.
“What are they doing now Marianne? Tell me.”
It might be cruel to extract her confession this way, denied for so long, I needed to take advantage. Rubbing my fingers together, she was never this wet.
“Fuck Jack, don’t stop.”
I pushed them back in and felt the thrum of her groan against me, “Tell me what are they doing?”
Softly fingering her, a rhythm of her soft gasps left their hot breath on the windowpane.
“Marianne?”
“The younger woman, she’s… she’s on her back now, her legs against his shoulders. He’s fucking her and she’s riding her face. Oh… oh fuck!”
Her breathing stuttered sharply as my relentless fingers stirred at her sex.
“You like watching huh? How about if I open the blinds so they can see us too?”
I could feel her tremble against me; this was not my indifferent wife
Marianne purred another long moan, “Jack, oh fuck, this is intense, I… I…”
Easing my length into the gap between her thighs, the length of my erection grazed her vulva. She gave out a tiny yelp. I taunted her with each slow thrust, and the next might be the one that penetrated her.
I wanted to hear her plead, “You want to fuck as we watch them?” my voice low and assertive.
“Yes…” Marianne whimpered, “Oh God yes…”
“Tell me to fuck you.”
“Fuck me, fuck me Jack.”
“Beg me to fuck you.”
No hesitation, no tut or rebuke for my coarse language. Instead, a soft gasp of defeat, her hips tried to take me in.
“I’m begging you.”
Fiercely hard, it was too easy to breech her. She coated me quickly, broiling hot, so wet that I could pound her with ease. The precariousness of our situation made it a different kind of slow, not out of boredom but torture.
I paused, half-in, half-out and felt how snug she held me. Pressing on, Marianne shuddered with a yelp.
“God, you are so hard.”
“Would you like to fuck there? There with them so they could watch?”
I had to say it, I had to push the boundaries, this might be a one-off, nothing more than a fantasy fuck. I felt determined to make it real and the compulsion to know felt too great to resist.
“Uh huh.”
It was not a gasp but a deep groan; she tried to fuck me in short movements. Words were superfluous, we communicated through deeds. Revelling in Marianne’s admission, my chest pounded so hard, it made my ears ring. Slowly by degrees, vivid with its intensity, agony with its patience, we fucked.
“Oh God Jack, this is crazy. I need to get myself off but I can’t stop watching.”
“Then masturbate as I fuck you.”
In this position, embedded deeply in my wife, I felt her fingers expertly capture her evasive clitoris. Pressed close, hands on the tops of her thighs, we devoured the spectacle. Narrated by Marianne’s tiny whimpers of pleasure, heartfelt, real, it felt so good to hear them again.
“What are they doing?” my voice a soft growl of assertiveness.
She gasped and I heard her swallow, “They are kissing as they both have her, I think… I think…” Her voice trailed off for a long exhalation of air, “No, he’s just pulled out, she’s leaning forwards and they are eating each other in a sixty-nine… fuck!”
Pressing beyond the cushion of her behind, I had to hold her tight to stop her toppling over. Struggling to hold the camera still, fixated on the view, determined to rub her sex, I felt her struggle not to writhe.
Whimpering with frustration, I slowed to shallower tempo.
“Keep going!” she hissed.
“I know you want to get yourself off,” I listened to her deep long moan, “do it.”
Those fingers, so much more skilful than mine, worked fast. I pushed slowly, enough for her to feel every inch against those tensed muscles.
“Oh God, Jack, I’m cumming.”
I stopped with my whole length deep inside and her body stiffened in tight ratcheting spasms. Legs quaking, I held her firm, and the undulating convulsions of muscle squeezed along my whole length in waves. Her broken sighs, punctuated by yelps grew in volume and strength. The tremors rose to their tumult and fell back, all the time she watched. A tiny death, the next would be more profound.
Peering over her shoulder, I could see how they arranged each other. The older woman, elbows locked, her pendulous breasts hung down and she presented her behind to him. Still rampant, he gripped her hips and plunged in hard; their playmate on her knees behind him.
“Jesus! That’s obscene,” Marianne groaned loudly.
“What is she doing? Tell me.”
“She’s such a slut, she’s rimming him.”
“Keep playing with yourself, watch them fuck.” I murmured into her ear.
“Oh God, Jack, don’t stop, I need to cum again.”
“Then cum, cum on my cock.”
Another trembling wave shook her legs, stronger whimpers followed and I held her tighter as she bucked back firmly. She squeezed hard as tight, violent pulses gripped in sudden convulsions.
With it, I hoped they swept away my staid wife and our staid life; I wanted this mundane waking nightmare to end.
“Oh… oh Jack, he’s cumming, his body has gone all stiff… he’s… he’s cumming inside her.”
With a harrumph, in the serendipity of the moment, the camera expired.
Marianne prised herself free and put the camera down. My erection cooled in the air as she embraced me, her tongue firmly into my mouth. There was no prelude, no tenderness, and her frantic limbs needed purchase. Kissing me wantonly, I advanced and made her backpedal.
Pressed against the wall, our gaze lingered, and I opened her legs with my knees. One strong hand lifted her thigh to my hip. At that moment of penetrations, our stare glowered into each other eyes. Then her expression melted, fully penetrated, she croaked and went limp. A sharp thrust, she grunted hard, her limbs tightened to my body. In a tight embrace, each powerful thrust shook her against the wall.
“Yes, yes, harder, harder, fuck me!”
I wanted to lift her and pin her to the wall, hung by my raging erection and my body.
“You want that, huh? Being watched and fucked?” thrusting hard, I pushed out an airy sob, “Men? Women?”
With a soft gurgle, she pressed her lips to mine, intense in passion; I felt the vice of her sex and ignored it.
“Tell me, Marianne?”
She yelped, “Yes! Yes!”
Driving harder, I muffled the alacrity of her cries with another passionate kiss. The desperate strain of our bodies rolled back the years. Marianne looked so vulnerable, never fucked against a wall, and never so craven with lust. Limited by the bear hug of our embrace, my strength made her yield. Teeth bared, she retaliated and pressed them into my shoulder; her nails raked against my shoulder blades. Several clattering thrusts later, I winced as she bit me.
The clap of skin against skin bounced off the painted walls, “Fuck me harder…harder! I want it, I want to be watched.”
Her trembling intensified, our implacable limbs that refused to yield, and my sweat sheened body skidded against hers. Legs shaking, back arched, I lunged firmly and pressed her back against the wall. Her yelping intensified; years of frustration made me do it. Quenching my thirst, I bucked hard against her stricken body. Muscles burned, my body strained and yet I knew I would endure. The cushion of her breasts squashed against my chest, and I would not relent.
It felt so easy as our embrace tightened. This was no re-enactment of old times; this was the fierce discovery of something new.
“Fuck yes, keep going…” Marianne yelped as more clattering thrusts silenced her and then she croaked, “I… I want to watch you fuck.”
I groaned, “I want to watch you fuck, just like that, with them both.”
She shuddered at the unrelenting pace, “I… I want it too. Keep going…” she yelped, “don’t stop.”
The torpid heat of our bodies made us grapple for purchase. Fighting harder, my body weakened, muscles aflame with exertion. I pressed on, driven by this act and my imagination, and the louder cries of my wife inspired me to continue. Tighter, less friction, I felt that swell, the fierce maximum that promised such a terrific release.
“Do it Marianne, make me cum inside you.”
“I… I love you Jack.”
“I love you too.”
That tingling of pleasure, from my prostate though into my perineum gathered pace. Her tremors rose, their force narrowed to a point when the last tiny shudder rendered her immobile. With a long galloping set of convulsion along my entire length, she squealed. Sinews tightened, muscles spasmed, her nails dug into my body as if clinging to life itself.
Locking up, I fought to release it, desperate mechanical lunges seized by her rolling pulses. At the last, pinned against me, I pressed in deep and roared. Hot waves of relief rushed forwards as the taut massage of her sex milked me effortlessly. Convulsing together until it weakened us into two breathless wrecks, still coupled, saturated by its warmth.
Her embrace softened and she giggled. I felt her bear down on me. One soft kiss, then another, a tease of the tip of her tongue and I felt the embers flicker into life.
“Mmm, Jack.”
“Hello,” and I kissed her too.
Easing her legs to the floor, we slotted together perfectly, and held each other for a moment.
“Mmm, Jack, I’ve forgotten how good it feels, it’s running down my thigh.”
A soulful kiss, then another that lingered, she grasped my semi-flaccid cock in her hand.
She peered through the gap in the blinds, “Ah, they’ve gone.”
I expected Marianne to be disappointed; instead, I pondered her mischievous expression.
“Still not done, Jack?” She stroked me slowly, “I hope you have some more for me?”
I nodded my head as I stiffened to her caress.
“Let’s film ourselves fucking, Jack, I want to see what it looks like.”
Never lost for words, I felt the edges of my lips crease as I pondered the look on her face; definitely lascivious but laced with earnestness.
She leant in and I held her close, “I like that idea, what else have you been keeping from me?”
My mind raced flat-out to comprehend what just happened. I looked to the light switch, perhaps it was that simple, this flicked Marianne’s switch.
“If I told you, would you give me more, Jack?”
We kissed, it had that come-hither vacuum, I knew she was in the mood.
Still drunk with arousal, I nodded again, “Come on, let’s explore the possibilities.”
Led by the hand, I passed the light switch and smiled silently, perhaps it was that simple. All I knew is I would definitely keep this light on.
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