Sauce For The GanderChapter 3 free porn video

Saturday morning at the Doyle residence: It was 10:55 am, and Tom was drying the last of the breakfast-ware, a blackened iron skillet to replace in its proper location. Penny was upstairs in the bedroom, polishing the windows. The kids were down at the sports centre, hanging out with their respective friends.

Melanie, no doubt, was on the ice, Martin wasting time at the arcade, or playing soccer. Martin was a back on the local team. They’d be home no later than 2 o’clock, famished as usual, ready to shuttle off to the grandparents. Tom wondered if Penny was up for some nookie in the meantime. He certainly was. As though hearing his thoughts, she shouted downstairs: “Tom, come quickly!”

Tom left the skillet sitting on the counter and hurried upstairs.

“What is it, love?” He fiddled with his belt buckle in anticipation, heart accelerating, and breath coming in gasps. He was waylaid at the door to Melanie’s room, surprised.

“In here!” Penny said urgently.

She meant to have Tom take her in Melanie’s bed again? Today? That couldn’t be right. Shaking his head, he entered, and found Penny gazing out Melanie’s bedroom window.

“What is it, love?”

Penny urgently motioned him forward. She wasn’t so much gazing out the window, as peeking between two slats, held apart by her fingertips. Tom approached cautiously, off-put by her hunched posture and clandestine snooping. What was she up to?

“Love... ?”

“Not so loud! Come here.”

Not so loud? The window was tightly closed, for piss sakes. He became conscious of the thrumming engine of the mower out back. He’d listened to it for an hour now, without even realizing; Saturday mornings were ubiquitous for lawn mower sounds. He sneaked in beside her and peered down.

“What are we looking at, love?”

“Not what, silly! Who!”

Wesley and Evie Wanstead’s blonde-haired middle child, Edward, was shirtless in a pair of dun-coloured cargo shorts and work boots, pushing the big green mower. His bronze skin was slick with perspiration, thick muscles rippling in his back, biceps, and forearms. It was not the Wanstead’s property, but the Simpson’s next door, empty these last two months. Tom had jokingly claimed that he and Penny’s activities in the bedroom were to blame for their sudden and unexpected departure; the overarching protest of stressed bed springs, mattress, box-frame and the floor supporting them every Saturday night. Penny had blushed at the suggestion.

Edward was 15, three years older than Martin. Penny had no business ogling a student, much less a neighbour’s boy.

“Penelope Anne Brighton Doyle! You must be joking.” He popped the top slat loose so it fell back in place.

“Tom!” she protested, raising it again. She giggled in embarrassment, a good sign. It meant this was not a psychotic break on her part, but sex-play. He allowed the slat to remain lifted, to see where it would go.

“Isn’t he gorgeous, Tom?”

The Simpson’s grass was quite tall, not having been moved in at least a month. Tom guessed that Edward had cut it then also, back in May. Strange, as he’d paid no attention at all. Details such as overgrown yards next to his own didn’t usually escape his attention. Something else must have grabbed it. Maybe Penny’s warm hand. He cuddled in against her.

“I’d rather see Melanie out there in a bikini, mowing, love.” Melanie was not his daughter in this case, but Edward’s 17-year-old sister. Or was she 18 now, he wondered? Beautiful, dark-haired lass, with a body made for a bikini on a warm summer day. To his surprise, glancing into the Wanstead’s back yard over the hedge, he spotted Melanie, sunning by the pool in her bikini. He chuckled appreciatively; he loved a good turn of chance.

Penny gave him an elbow. “You have no business, ogling a child, Mr. Doyle.”

“Said the blackened skillet to the burner,” he retorted. Reaching over, he cupped her rear end, which she wiggled saucily.

“He’s so absolutely gorgeous!” she trilled. “Wouldn’t I love to get my hands on him?”

“The only one I see gorgeous, is my lovely wife.” He slid his hand down the back of her shorts and underwear, claiming his prize. “Who has evidently gone round the effing bend.”

Tom goosed Penny’s butt, which she clenched in response. She made an inarticulate choking sound as the very athletic Edward stop pushing the mower and flexed his arms and chest, twisting at the waist to loosen taut muscles. He wiped his forehead in obvious disgust, right forearm glistening from the added perspiration. Squatting to free grass built up inside the case, his thighs bulged authoritatively; years of soccer practice, Tom thought. He’d once looked like that himself. It helped ensure Penny’s capture in 1997.

“Oh, heavens ... what a cute bum!” Penny gushed.

Edward had shifted to attack the grass from an alternate location, and was now showing Penny his very tight butt. His shorts rode down, revealing the waistband of his boxer shorts. Idly, Tom wondered how well Edward was endowed, and how often he had opportunity to use it. Tom had used his extensively in school, though never with anyone other than Penny, not after their third time together. Penny was touchy on the subject of the girls between their 1st and 3rd liaisons. Tom often regretted that bit of foolishness on his part; Penny had already committed herself to him.

“You fancy, Edward, do you?” He stepped behind her, sliding both hands inside her baggy tee shirt and cupping her bra-clad breasts. She squirmed, and then more as he released the centre catch and let her bra pop free. How could these breasts still enthral him so, after so many years married? Because they were perfect?

Penny laughed softly. She loved having her breasts fondled. “Remember school is out, love. Monday morning, once you, Wesley, and Evie go off to work, I plan to steal next door in my sexiest underwear and tightest black mini-dress, and offer Edward a taste of womanhood. I’m sure he’ll say yes. Especially after I tease him into a frenzy with a lap dance and striptease.” She performed a short, if not thoroughly arousing mini striptease for Tom, hands still cupping her breasts. She looked back at him. “Unless you’d rather watch him shag me, maybe? I could invite him over, say next Saturday night? Let you see how another male takes your wife?”

Whatever the intent, her words had the effect of rendering Tom insanely jealous. He yanked down her shorts and underwear to mid-thigh--Penny jumped in response--bent her forward and searched out her vagina with twinned fingers. She jumped again as he thrust them inside.

“Ow, Tom!” she complained, and then laughed shakily as he turned those fingers face-forward and stroked her errant G-spot. Her underlying bladder, also, which Penny had neglected to empty recently. It immediately made her squirm. “Oh, Tom,” she moaned.

“Tell me more,” he suggested gruffly.

Penny squirmed harder under this onslaught, battling the urgency to pee. Perhaps this wasn’t the hot idea she’d thought. Breathlessly, she improvised.

“Imagine it, me in our missionary position, Edward naked atop me, spreading me scandalously.” She gasped as the pressure against her bladder increased. “I clasp my legs about his taut waist, locking my ankles at the small of his back, as I do.” She wisely avoided any mention of whom she normally did this with, and was rewarded with only a minimal increase in pressure. God, she had to go pee!

She had no choice about this next part, not if she wanted an answer. “You’d see his young, hard, teenager’s cock penetrate me, Tom. Just think, his cock plunging in and out of my cunt, his tight young behind, rising and thrusting down...” Her rear began to gyrate in response to Tom’s urging. She was bent too low now to see Edward through the slat. Letting it drop, she raised one lower and peered out, breathing laboriously. This was a marginal idea at best, decidedly not her best. She groaned as he removed two, and replaced them with three fingers. Decidedly, not her best idea.

“Tom, please,” she moaned. All this for something that might never happen--would never happen, by Tom’s reaction to this. He barely accepted her relationship with Charlee, which he’d admittedly pressured her into. Not that she hadn’t been secretly receptive. But he’d never be accepting of her and another man, even in theory.

In desperation, she reached back and sought his fly, somehow fumbling it down. She needed rescuing from this mayhem with his fingertips. She didn’t want to just shut him down, but she couldn’t take much more. To her surprise, though, he eased back on his own, even prompting her unexpectedly.

“I could join you and Edward, get into a position where you could suck this big monster--” He freed himself into her hand, thick as a tree limb, and just as stiff. “—while he does you. Perhaps he might even care to have a lick or a suck, himself, who knows. You two could take turns polishing my knob, as you call it.” He shivered as Penny awkwardly stoked his thick shaft.

“I fancy that term, really. It’s so utterly descriptive. Was there a Yank in the past, maybe, polishing his knob? Don’t answer that,” he said, laughing harshly. He shivered again as she caressed the head with her thumb, then realized it wasn’t in response to his taunt, making him feel a bit foolish. His erection was in her hand backwards than normal, and she was feigning the feel of her tongue with her thumb.

Breathing erratically, Penny ventured: “You might take us both up the rear, Tom. Put us side by side at the edge of the mattress, doggie-style. Have us spread our cheeks like I do for you, our chests to the mattress, our rear ends up high...” She inhaled a shuddering breath as Tom entered her from behind, then extracted his slathered erection and placed the head against her anus. She winced, fumbling the slat as he entered her head-deep, then pushed in half his length. Edward was gone from sight, regardless, back to his own yard for petrol. He’d taken the cap off, checking the tank.

“Is he nice and smooth like you?” Tom asked. His breathing was erratic, also.

Penny nodded convulsively. “I’ll take care of that, myself. Both of you, Tom. And you and Edward can care for me. We’ll all be nice and silky smooth, just like three new-born babes. We’ll all be perfect to go down on orally, too.” A shudder ran through her as Tom lodged his entire shaft inside her taut bottom. She hadn’t taken him since Saturday night, and was tight as a borehole now. He seemed about to explode.

“I want to do you, and then him,” he croaked. “Tell me how I should do it, to him. Once I’m done with you.”

Penny took shuddering breaths. Why did this incredibly arouse her so? It wasn’t like Tom never took her anally. Last weekend, she’d taken him six effing times, all on Saturday and early Sunday morning, a record for her. She’d never done anal so much in her life. All from the possibility of Tom taking anal himself, from another man, which scared him to death. She felt reasonably sure that Tom had no qualms about putting his tool in whomever they chose, and coming up his behind. Her experience Saturday night having the store-bought phallus jammed up her behind, and used to such extraordinary effect, proved that. Tom had nearly perforated her rectum in his eagerness. And, oh my God, how she had hated and loved it! She ached all effing week long, to the point of tears sometimes, and here she was doing it again.

Barely able to speak, Penny said: “I’ll kneel beside him, facing you, and pull his cheeks apart for you, lube him with KY jelly. Then I’ll make sure your shaft is properly prepared with gobs of KY, and guide you to his asshole. I’ll make sure you stay centred on his hole, and push into him just so, like you push into me, Tom.”

She groaned, planting her head against the wall beside Melanie’s window, and reached back to grab her cheeks. In her mind’s eye she watched the long, thick shaft traveling in and out, the head gripped momentarily with each exit, then disappearing along with his entire shaft back into her rectum to seat full in. She arranged herself, spreading her feet, canting her rear upward, depressing her spine, rising onto her tiptoes. Tom would inundate her in just a second. She was teetering on the edge of orgasm, all without once touching herself. Only Tom could do this to her. Only Tom had ever done this to her.

“Is he a virgin?” Tom croaked.

“Yes!” she gasped, shuddering violently, banging her head on wall. “You fuck him just like you fuck me, Tom, make him take every bit of your shaft, every fucking bit of you, all the way up his fucking behind, Tom! Then you—” She croaked incoherently as the mower outside roared to life. Tom roared to life in her ass, thrusting forward and crushing her against the wall as she orgasmed. He gushed out surge upon surge of hot semen into her backside like a fire hose. “Oh, my God!” she wailed, bracing against the wall to keep from having her neck snapped. “Tom! Oh, my God, Tom! Fuck me, Tom--Fuck me!” And he did, until they both collapsed onto their knees, Penny still braced against the wall, huge cock up her backside.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed shakily. “You are so fucking incredibly good to me. How can I ever share you with anyone?”

Outside, Edward Wanstead continued mowing, oblivious to what went on inside the bedroom overlooking his efforts, unknowing that his neighbour had just buggered someone in his stead, and nearly crippled her.

Tom already had, or would very shortly, paint himself into a corner. He’d used Penny’s innocent infatuation with her fellow teacher to foment a same-sex encounter with a hardened lesbian, a woman (as much as he secretly desired her), that had stripped Penny naked in a corridor at her club, and let her be filmed by three separate security cameras. Any number of staff and acquaintances could have seen her by now; another secretly held desire of his; another energetic chop to the trunk of their marriage.

Was he that debauched, or was he attacking himself needlessly, he wondered? It took only two weeks between Penny’s original offhand references to the cute new teacher, and her coupling with Charlee at the club. He’d encouraged her, sure (what husband wouldn’t, given the circumstances?), but Penny willingly sat on his lap over the intervening two weeks, and grew steadily more responsive to the idea, finally embracing it enthusiastically. She had suggested a gay nightclub, even suggesting the FreeStyle, where she’d immediately coupled with Charlee. Hadn’t that buggered his mind.

But this business with a bloke. And buggering his ass. And putting this unknown bloke’s pecker in his mouth, and vice-versa. He shifted, stomach turning uneasily. He’d brought that on himself, Penny would assert, rightly or not. Was it so wrong, or such a stretch of the imagination, that a devoted husband would choose to watch his love with another woman, or want to join into the fun? What rule stated that he must submit to a reciprocal arrangement in order to even the proverbial playing field, so to speak. As it were. Whatever.

Tom rose and went to the kitchen for a cold beer. The six-pack of Heineken held four bottles, and he took one and dropped the empty into the recycle bin. Penny was upstairs, showering as she did every day after school. Students were on vacation, but teachers remained on staff through mid-July, before going on break. Tom complained on this every year, though Penny took it in stride. He leaned against the counter, beer in hand, brooding.

What he didn’t get was this strap-on business, and why he didn’t absolutely shut Penny down. No wife had call to bugger her husband’s ass, no matter what. Nor exhibit the kind of enthusiasm Penny had while boning him, and that nasty business at the end? Well, he had shown her, hadn’t he?

Yeah, he thought, muttering under his breath. He had shown her, all right. That Penelope Anne Brighton Doyle deserved better--so much better--than someone shoving a cock up her ass and brutalizing it in revenge for something the owner had furtively enjoyed having done to himself. His love, left to her devices, would most likely never venture outside the bounds of their matrimonial practices of the past 17 years. 20 years, including the dating and courtship.

So, why did he?

Shifting position, he crossed his ankles, folded his arms, and scowled out the kitchen window. Terrific view of the hedge, he thought. Not even the benefit of a bikini-clad beauty on the other side. It bothered him, Melanie having his daughter’s name. Hard to not think of Melanie when eyeing the neighbour’s shapely daughter. Not that he did, that often. He wasn’t a pervert. That thought made him laugh, bitterly.

He wanted more. He longed to experiment. He wanted Penny happy, but wanted her to push the bounds without compromising him in the bargain. It shouldn’t feel selfish wanting that, but it sure as hell did. Plus, this mental conflict made him feel foolish. Half the time his thoughts made no sense at all, contradicting and twisting back on themselves, whirling cyclonically. He blamed Penny for his own twisted urges, more rightly, for not originating them herself, involving only herself. He wanted Penny with another woman, preferably in his bed, at his bidding, letting him watch. Instructing her to share. Her answer: let me watch you with another man, Tom. Bullshit, he thought sourly. Sauce for the goose, she said. Bullshit, he said. Hadn’t he said that?

He would not touch another man’s cock; much less take it in his mouth. Up the bum? Not in a million fucking years, he thought, crossly. He was no fag. Not like those fag’s in school he’d so despised. The one’s he and his mates beat down behind the school. Sometimes in the gym, sometimes in the effing school building even. Like the time he and Kevin Maddox and Stephen Dawson had--

Tom started erect. Oh, fuck. He hadn’t thought about Stephen for years, had he? Suddenly tense, he glanced quickly around the kitchen, lest someone witness his reaction. He took a compulsive sip of beer, then a long swig, downing half the bottle. He gasped and anxiously wiped his lips, now eyeing the window over the sink. No one out there to see him, right?

Moralizing had caused him a stumble. His school days were not as perfectly heterosexual as he’d liked to believe, certainly not with the likes of Kevin and Stephen. He’d damned near sucked Stephen, and certainly had taken his cock in hand, and more than once. Kevin also, and come to think of it, Walter Stokes and Jeremy Lippincourt. Fuck, Kenneth Grimm also, he recalled unhappily. Not that he’d sucked any of those, nor even Stephen. He’d wanted to, though.

It was laddish experimentation; nothing more. What boys at the academy had done for untold ages; comparing cock length and breadth, determine who had the longest reach, taking a pee, see who produced the most ejaculate, wanking off. It was the only time a boy could legitimately pull his pud and not get knocked over the head as being a queer. Odd lot, that.

They’d done it in the equipment room that time with Stephen. They’d done it a year previously in a narrow cubicle in the school toilet, but that was a dangerous action to repeat at 14. As before, Stephen won the length test, his uncircumcised penis a full inch longer than Tom’s circumcised member. Tom was a tad thicker. As always, the sheath protecting the head of Stephen’s cock left him intrigued.

Tom and Stephen stood face to face, cocks aligned side by side. Stephen’s unseen head nested in Tom’s wiry pubic hair; Tom’s bare head stood an inch shy of Stephen’s. It was the only means of getting an accurate comparison; it couldn’t be done side by side, or head to head, no matter how hard you tried. It didn’t help that Stephen stood a head taller than Tom, but it wasn’t a deal breaker, either; Tom stood atop a stack of school texts.

“You lose, mate,” Stephen snickered. “Again.”

Tom winced at his derisive tone. “I’m still pretty fucking big, there, mate... 6-1/2”.

“Still a day late, and a dollar short,” he recited, Stephen’s second favourite Yank saying. His favourite was, “You talking to me? You talking to me?” from the Robert DeNiro flick.

Tom snorted. “You ever wish you were cut?” he asked, indicating his friend’s foreskin.

“No, why?” The fact was, far more boys were uncircumcised in Britain, than shorn of their foreskins at birth. To Tom’s surprise, Stephen slid back the skin to reveal his perfectly normal glans. It was slightly larger than Tom’s, more bulbous; seeing it gave Tom an unexpected kick to his erection. Suddenly, two boys with their penises held side by side and touching along their lengths, maybe wasn’t so innocent.

Tom looked nervously over his shoulder. The door was locked; he’d made sure of it, earlier, but still. The catch on these old locks were considered a standing joke at school; a good twist would open every door on this floor.

Speaking of knobs...

“You ever had that thing sucked yet?”

“Not yet,” Stephen replied, his expectant tone making Tom nervous.

A long silence ensued. Then Stephen gripped Tom’s cock, put his own in Tom’s hand and began to stroke his friend. Tom shuddered violently, but hadn’t freed himself. It was his first same-sex experience, and one he wanted to experience, if not explore further.

“What do I do when I come?” Tom whispered.

Stephen grinned mischievously. “What you gonna do when I come, is the more important question, mate.”

Tom glanced nervously back at the door again. It might be a joke to Stephen, but he wanted to take his knees and find out what the thing felt like in his mouth. No way would he do it, though. This was dangerously stupid and potentially humiliating already.

Stephen cupped his left hand to catch Tom’s ejaculate when he came. Tom did likewise before Stephen’s cock and they continued stroking. Tom was antsy, building toward orgasm. He was hard as the proverbial tree limb, and all these years later, Tom had a tree limb shoving out the front of his shorts.

“Jesus,” he muttered, downing the last of his beer and leaving the kitchen.

The kids were safely in bed, the alarm set, the dog bedded down for the night, and Kissie the cat made itself comfortable atop Penny’s bed-rest. Tom heard and felt it purring. Startled by her husband’s raging erection earlier, she had quickly closed the bathroom door, dropped to her knees, and relieved Tom’s misery. She’d been soaking out of the shower, the bathroom a steam bath, all the reflective surfaces misted over, and the kids wandering around. He’d given Penny a mouthful to swallow in record time. Then he’d jumped in the shower himself.

Penny said: “I’m not sure about placing an ad on these websites, Tom.” She cradled Tom’s iPad against her raised thighs. Beneath the white and yellow satin pyjamas, she wore nothing, a fact obvious by how they sculpted her breasts. Tom loved this particular pair of pyjamas just for that reason. She looked at him, reading glasses perched on her nose tip. Tim felt guilty about ambushing her earlier.

“Those hacks last year...” She shook her head. “That worries me, Tom.”

Tom had no idea what hacks she was talking about.

“Ashley Madison?” she promptly. “Adult Friend Finder?”

Tom was at a loss. Penny smilingly rolled her eyes. “How can you be interested in wife sharing, and not know about adult websites?” she teased.

Tom blushed. “I am not interested in wife-sharing,” he grumbled. “No one’s taking my wife anywhere.”

Penny laughed at his rumpled expression. “You already have shared your wife,” she taunted mildly. “You haven’t forgotten already?” She laughed again at his glare, and then patted his hand. “The thing is, those stupid hackers released millions of names, Tom, and I don’t want ours in the next batch. I can’t imagine a worse scenario for an architect and his wife. What about The Evening Echo?”

Tom raised his eyebrows. The Echo was the local rag, and Tom wasn’t aware they even ran personal ads. Penny passed over the tablet, already selected to the Personals page. It was sub-divided into sections, with men seeking women; women seeking men; women seeking women, etc. The Echo had an illicit dating advert page; he’d no clue.

“When do these come out?”

Penny pointed it out for him: every Friday edition. Scanning through the dozen or so couples seeking couples ads, he noted only one with promise: “Married; he – 35; her 33. Both bi, wishing to meet a similar couple for fun evenings in. Reply to Box 0039.”

“Well, that’s just amazing,” Tom admitted. “Who would have known?”

Penny again rolled her eyes. Grinning, she teasingly unbuttoned the top two buttons of her pyjama top, and flashed Tom her left breast. Taking the bait, Tom slipped a hand inside to caress it. He allowed Penny to undress as a tease, or to teasingly expose herself like this. He absolutely let her remove her clothes in a striptease. He absolutely did that. Penny had stripped for him a lot in the beginning; not so often now with the kids both adolescents. Usually only on Saturday nights. She still stripped extraordinary well.

“What do you think?” Penny asked.

Distracted, Tom attempted to focus. “Could be okay...” He removed his hand and peeked inside her pyjama bottoms. She wore knickers after all, the light grey Marks and Spencer knickers she’d bought online last month. The matching bra was one of his favourites. He envisioned it sitting lonely and forlorn in her lingerie drawer, pining for her beautiful breasts. By agreement, he normally had no say over what she wore; only how it was removed. He wished she had worn it though, imagining it coming off.

“Could be okay?” she repeated.

“What about us placing an ad? Do the fishing ourselves, instead of chomping the bait.” He faux-gobbled her right shoulder blade, making her laugh and squirm away.

“You should fish or cut bait, yourself, Mr. Doyle.” She smiled seductively and winked. Then sobered. “That would give us much tighter control over the selection process, I agree. I’d rather be the one picking, than the one picked. The issue...” She sighed unhappily. “ ... is that if we placed an ad right now--” She pointed out the deadline for placing an ad for Friday’s edition. “We couldn’t get in before next Friday.” She wrapped the bezel disgustedly with her knuckles. “That’s the bad thing about newspaper adverts. Too slow.”

Tom shrugged. “Go back to Adult Friend Finder, then. Take our chances with hackers.”

“No,” Penny said with finality. “We must find a better way.”

“Impatient. Impatient. The only reason you want to hurry this up is to see some bloke bugger my ass, anyway.” He poked her ribs, too hard.

“I could do that myself, anytime,” she responded defiantly, swatting at his hand. “I rather fancy buggering your ass, anyway, Mr. Doyle. It’s so exquisitely tight, virtually teen-tight, actually. Like Edward’s ass might be.” She feigned sudden inspiration. “Now that’s an idea! See how you compare to his genuine teen-tight ass.”

Tom struggled not to laugh. Where did she come up with this stuff? He had to teach her a lesson.

“That crack deserves a good retaliation, Mrs. Doyle!” Snatching the tablet away, he tossed it onto his table and then yanked Penny over his lap. She squealed softly, giggling and trying to fight him off.

“Don’t you dare, Mr Doyle!”

Laughing harshly, he hauled down her pyjama bottoms and knickers, baring her exquisite rear end. What 37-year-old had a rear end like this? It was no different than he’d first seen it in 1997, on her birthday, he realized. He should have spanked it then, paddled it 18 times, and another for good luck. Bloody lost opportunity, he thought. He’d lost it again April 6, her last birthday. Thirty-seven times and one for good luck.

“Thomas Doyle! The kids!”

Tom scowled at the door. He rested his hand on her behind.

“Don’t you dare, Thomas Doyle. I’m warning you!” she threatened.

“Who’s going to stop me?” he responded distractedly. He’d never paddled Penny for the kids to hear; not since they were old enough to understand what they’d heard.

“We need to work on the advert,” she protested desperately.

He laughed. Then slapped her gently on both cheeks, enjoying the satisfying bounce.

“Do that for real, and I’ll lock myself in the en-suite all night, Thomas Doyle! You won’t get nookie for a week.”

Done correctly, with the right timing, the act of spanking Mrs. Doyle’s bare bottom had the effect of rendering her ravenously horny. Incredible sex afterward was guaranteed. Spanking her like this would derail any expectation of sex. Cause unbearable embarrassment with the kids. Ensure his place in the doghouse for the foreseeable future. So what made his hand want to batter this beautiful bottom?

“Behave yourself, Mr Doyle, and fuck me.”

A much better idea, he thought.

Releasing his wife, Tom slipped from the bed and made for the door. Penny righted herself, wormed back into her knickers and pyjama bottoms, and retrieved the box of condoms from her bedside table. She was menstrual, but that only made her all the more desperate. Despite the bloody gums it might present, Tom had discovered long ago never to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. He often took her anal finishing up; Penny craved anal during her period. God knew why.