New Wife's Hunger (Vintage Erotic Novel) - Anju Quewea - ebook

This is a Vintage Erotic, Adult Novel... Full of sexual adventures... Involving a sexy and Seductive girl... Full of Sex, Surprises and Unusual Naughty Twists.

Ebooka przeczytasz w aplikacjach Legimi lub dowolnej aplikacji obsługującej format:


Liczba stron: 199

New Wife's Hunger

CHAPTER ONEJoan Welby ran more hot water into the bathtub as the transparent rainbow-colored tiny spheres of her bubble-bath popped all around her, then leaned back luxuriously to savor the sensation of the renewed heat penetrating every pore of her relaxed body. She slid down lower in the tub until the bubble-topped hot water covered all but the upper slopes of her delightfully full, firm white breasts, each adorned with a ruby-like pouting nipple. Joan stiffened her long, slender legs against the tub and raised her body partway above the snowdrift of bubbles partly concealing it. She arched her back until the smoothly rounded surface of her glistening sleek belly broke the surface, dipping downward to the slightly protruding mound at its base, a mound decorated with a profusion of light blonde hair matching exactly the luxuriant growth on Joan's head.Bridging her shoulders, Joan lifted first one leg and then the other as she sought to bring more of her own secret flesh into view, much as she had done in the days when a eighteen-year-old tomboy in a small southern town had suddenly experienced the delicious budding, swelling, and rounding of her own hitherto ignored girl flesh. At twenty-five, Joan was sure she had lost none of the superlatively desirable figure that her husband Harry had been unable to keep his hands off almost from their first date.A frown creased her smooth forehead.She might have lost none of her eye-catching qualities in masculine company, but she surely wasn't catching Harry's eye as much as formerly. In point of fact, even though she didn't like to admit it to herself, he had been neglecting her shamefully. Too often these days she thought back longingly to the first year of their marriage, when the homecoming husband often delayed dinner while he practiced his homework upon his contentedly acquiescent young wife. Sometimes they never made it to the second floor bedroom, but indulged in their carnal delights upon the living room sofa or even occasionally upon the carpeting.Joan sighed unconsciously. It had been a long time since Harry had been that impetuous, although she certainly didn't know why. All the physical aspects he had explored with such gratified gusto still awaited him, ripely abundant, eagerly anticipant, ardently incandescent. She sank down into the soothing hot water again, her right hand frankly covering her mound as her finger dipped lightly between her thighs and teased her pussy-lips. A shiver rippled through her. She shouldn't get herself worked up like that.She shouldn't be spoiling the evening ahead by any such gloomy thoughts, either. She and Harry were to be the guests at a nightclub party celebrating Harry's upcoming promotion to junior partner in his law firm. The party hosts were to be Tom and Alice Carter, good friends in addition to the fact that Tom was Harry's immediate boss in the law office. The Carters knew how much the promotion meant to the younger Welbys. With the promotion in hand and a night on the town to celebrate, Joan thought wistfully, Harry might not turn his back upon her brusquely in bed that night and unceremoniously go to sleep.Alice Carter had extended the invitation. "Tom thinks we might take in a couple of the bottomless joints on Broadway in North Beach after dinner," she mentioned. The Welbys lived in San Francisco, the Carters farther out in Marin County.Joan had giggled at the news. "I wonder why it is men feel they have to spend money for that sort of thing when all they have to do is tell us to take our panties down, Alice?""The idea of something strange, I imagine," Alice replied. "And as long as Tom desires to see my bottom with some degree of frequency, I really don't begrudge him a few peeps, you know.""Oh, I feel exactly the same way!" Joan said hastily. She knew that Alice was very much in love with Tom, much as she was with Harry. Tom Carter was older and very much a man of the world. Joan knew that Alice was thirty-five and Tom a couple of years older. She had never mentioned it to Harry, but privately she considered Tom Carter to be a strong-minded, self-centered man, almost a bit overbearing at times. Once or twice Joan had caught him gazing at her with a speculative look in his hooded eyes that she had found almost frightening. She had to remind herself that Tom and Alice Carter were their best friends.Joan wasn't quite as sanguine about the bottomless night club expedition as she had let on to Alice. She considered herself moderately sophisticated, but strong traces of her church-oriented, family-directed upbringing in the small southern town of her youth still remained with her. At college she had had only one sexual experience before meeting Harry, and that one disappointingly squalid. Harry's ardency had almost caused a rift in their relationship, before Joan reminded herself firmly that it was no longer 1910 and that in fact she didn't want to deny this handsome young man the titillating liberties he sought to take. There was the scary thought that she might have lost Harry completely if she had kept on saying no.The ringing of the telephone in the bedroom broke into her thoughts. She scrambled from the tub hurriedly, careful not to slip, threw on an old robe which blotted some of the moisture from her sweet-scented flesh, and hurried to the bedside phone, trailing water drops. Without knowing why, she had an indefinable feeling that it was Harry calling her."Hello?" she said, cradling the phone between chin and shoulder while she draped the sodden gown to reveal a little less frontal exposure before remembering there was no one present."It's me, Joan," Harry's voice said in the husky, half-intimate manner that was almost a vocal signature with him. When Joan was really in the mood sometimes, Harry's voice alone could create goose bumps upon her most intimate flesh. "Pack a bag for me," he continued. "I'm leaving for San Diego in an hour.""Oh, no, Harry!" Joan wailed. "Not tonight!""Can't be helped," he said. "One of the old bags whose account I've been managing has decided she has to have an immediate conference. Thank God that after the promotion takes effect someone else will be drawing those details.I'll be home in half an hour."Joan heard the click of the receiver. Why did it have to turn out like this, she thought? Harry had been away from her so much lately. He had been working sixteen hour days ever since her illness a year ago, she remembered guiltily. She had recovered fully, but the medical and hospital bills had been enormous. She had never dared ask where the money had come from to take care of them. But it was mean that their celebratory party should be broken up like this.She returned to the bathroom and removed the last of the bubble bath under the shower. Drying herself with a huge fluffy towel before patting on body powder, she could see herself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the bathroom door. The full, uptilted breasts jiggled lightly as she manipulated the towel. Her rounded belly flowed into the juncture of her gleaming plump thighs. She turned around and considered her wide-flaring soft buttocks below the slender stalk of her waist, and she sighed again. Those dimpled hind cheeks looked made to be cuddled, but it wasn't to happen tonight. Resentfully she flung the towel aside, and, still nude, went into the bedroom to pack Harry's overnight bag. Sometimes it seemed as though the middle-aged wealthy widows who made up the bulk of Harry's portfolio-managing accounts demanded his services at deliberately inconvenient times.Joan dressed finally and went downstairs.She pushed the provocative evening gown she had expected to wear to the back of the closet and put on a simple housedress. She was in the tiny kitchen of their little home when she heard the front door open. "Are you decent, Joan?" Harry's voice called. "Tom's with me."Mingled with her disappointment that Harry wasn't alone-she had hoped to have at least a few minutes with him before he had to leave Joan had to smile inwardly at the connotation contained in his question. In the second year of their marriage Joan had watched Harry drive up to their house and park, and impulsively decided to surprise him. She turned away from the window and stripped completely except for shoes and stockings, then naked, listened for his footstep at the door.When she heard it, she flung the door open, presenting herself brazenly, only to find that in a Keystone Kop sequence of events Harry had climbed out of the car and walked across the street to speak to one of the neighbors while the television repair man had pulled his truck in behind Harry's car to pick up their balky television set.For one frozen instant Joan had confronted the bug-eyed uniformed repairman before she turned and sprinted for the stairs with all her flowing curves jiggling loosely and bouncing wildly. Harry had been annoyed at first when she confessed the unexpected results of her impetuosity, but had then laughed. He never entered the house afterward if anyone was with him, however, without the preliminary question about Joan's decency or lack of it in the way of dress.It had been some solace to Joan afterward that the television repairman, upon the occasion of returning the repaired set, while Joan had been playing the coolly nonchalant grande dame with him as though the incident had never happened, turned to her at the door and said earnestly : "Lady, if I could get my wife to meet me at my front door like that just once I'd forfeit cheerfully every dollar I ever hope to earn. Your husband is a damned lucky guy."Joan had blushed vividly despite her best effort at composure, but had treasured the implied compliment.She walked into the living room and found Harry mixing a fast pitcher of martinis behind the bar. She glanced at the broad-shouldered, tapered back of the six foot, prematurely gray man standing in the center of the room with his back to her. "Hello, Tom," Joan said.He turned to greet her with the wide grin that was his trademark. Tom Carter had almost girlish-looking blue eyes in a craggy face, and a hard-looking male body. Joan found herself admiring his appearance as she always did. Except for the graying hair he could have passed for her age instead of ten years older.Harry moved out from the bar and handed Joan a drink, then gave one to Tom. He neglected to kiss Joan as he had done faithfully when they were first married. Joan thought he looked tired and preoccupied, but she still felt resentful at his lack of attention to her. She tried to mask her reaction under Tom Carter's shrewd, observant gaze. "To a quick trip home," Tom toasted, and raised his glass. Janet downed her martini in a gulp. Harry looked surprised, and Tom wagged a finger at her. "Hey, that's not like you," he admonished her.Joan shrugged. "Since I have to celebrate my husband's promotion alone tonight, I might as well get started quickly," she said with more of an edge to her voice than she had intended."Shall I tell her now?" Tom said to Harry, who nodded. "We decided that you shouldn't miss a good party just because your traveling old man is out of town," Tom continued to Joan. "You're coming with Alice and me tonight. The reservations have been made and everything ordered. Besides, I'd like to prove that I'm still not too old to squire two women at once, even if it's only for one night." He grinned at her companionably."Oh, Tom, I don't really think so," Joan began, but he interrupted her immediately."Don't be a spoilsport, Joan. I've already talked to Alice. She's been getting ready for three hours for the party, and she says she doesn't mind sharing me for the evening. So you can't say no." He took Joan's hand warmly, and she sensed the controlled strength in the masculine body."In that case, Mr. Carter, I suppose I can't refuse," she said with a little smile. "What time should I be ready?""Eight o'clock," he said promptly."I've got a plane to catch," Harry broke in. "Come on, Tom, let's get a move on."He kissed Joan goodbye absentmindedly, ran up the stairs and right back down again with his bag, and walked out the front door. Joan tried to smile through her hurt at the brush-off as Tom Carter prepared to follow Harry. "See you at eight," he said quietly, and Joan nodded. She watched Tom's white convertible roar down the street, trying to still a single wayward tear that persisted in creeping from beneath an eyelid and down her cheek. If Harry's new position in the firm kept him as busy and with as little time for her, she didn't know how she could stand it.Disconsolately she went back upstairs, removed the housedress, stood in front of the mirror for an instant stroking her brassiered and pantied curves, then went to the closet and took out the evening gown which she laid out carefully on the bed.Two hours later Tom Carter and his wife Alice shared a drink in their bedroom as he dressed for the party. Alice sat propped up against the headboard with a large pillow behind her. She had on a lacy negligee casually parted in front to reveal lissome tanned thighs.She was a handsome woman but one terribly afraid of the first faint signs of aging which appeared in her boudoir mirror. She was also head-over-heels in love with her debonair husband-had been ever since the first day he had appeared so spectacularly in her life-and putty in his hands. Willing putty."It's working out just as you predicted," she said, sipping at her drink. "Do you think she's ready?""Ripe for plucking," Tom said, smiling at her as he buttoned his shirt. "And for fucking."Alice smiled, too. "A comedian you're not," she informed her husband. "But since you want her, I hope you're right.""When am I wrong about these things?" he said confidently. "You should have seen her face when we drove away just now. She's the loving, neglected wife. She's ready, all right. There'll be no trouble. And even if there should be, I can change her mind. With what I know about Harry's not-so-clever manipulation of the Sadaris' account, I can compel her acquiescence by threatening his exposure. No, I've had my eye on her aristocratic-looking lilywhite big ass for a long time, and tonight's the night I get it between the sheets.""I'm kind of looking forward to trying out Harry after you've broken in Joan," Alice said comfortably. "He looks rather the innocent type." She looked at her husband archly. "Won't you be jealous?"He smiled. "A little, perhaps. I usually am, when I think of someone screwing you. But it usually only lasts long enough for me to get into the rack with one of your girl friends." He glanced at his watch. "I'd better get going. I'm curious to hear Joan's reaction when I tell her that you have an unexpected headache and can't make it tonight."Alice rose from the bed and approached her husband. She was tall enough so that her crown of dark hair came just under his nostrils as she put her arms around him and rubbed her palms against the small of his back. "Don't waste it all on that blonde tonight," she whispered. She dropped her right hand to Tom's buttock and pinched it lightly, then moved her hand around to the front and rubbed her knuckles against his groin. "Save a little something for me for when you get home."Tom grunted at her touch upon his penis. "If you don't stop fiddling with the machinery, I'll paddle you pink, Alice. Or make you suck me off.""I'd love to," she said promptly, and reached for his zipper.He pulled away. "I haven't time. I'll be late, probably after three." He started for the bedroom door."Remember that I'll want to hear all about it," Alice called after him.She returned to the bed and sank slowly down upon it as she heard Tom's firm tread descending the stairs.Joan had been ready for twenty minutes when she heard Tom's knock at the door. She finished the last of her martini, the fourth since Harry and Tom had left, and walked rather unsteadily to the door to let Tom in. He explained quickly about Alice's supposed migraine headache, and Joan shook her head. "We don't have to go out, Tom," she began to say."Of course we do," he said quickly. "Harry's expecting it. I'd feel I'd let him down.""Well," Joan said with a forced smile, "I guess we'll have to do the best we can.""That's the spirit," he said encouragingly. "How about a drink before we leave?""I'll make one for you, but I've had enough," Joan replied. She was already feeling the results of her previous libations more than she had anticipated. Or desired."Then I won't have one, either," Tom decided. He picked up her mink stole resting haphazardly on the back of a chair and held it out to her. His knuckles brushed her bare shoulders as he draped it over her, and Joan shivered. There was a maleness in Tom Carter that plucked at the very roots of her sensibilities.He tucked her into the convertible, then walked around and got under the wheel. He drove so smoothly that she was soon lost in her own thoughts. It was Harry that was uppermost on her mind. She wanted her husband back so desperately, the eager, loving husband he had been before. Was it possible she was losing her sex appeal? Perhaps if she tried making Harry a little jealous? It seemed a bit childish, but she was ready to try anything. She glanced at Tom Carter's handsomely craggy features. If she flirted with Tom a little, remained a little secretive about her night out with him... there could be no real harm in it. Tom was a good friend, after all, Harry's best friend despite the difference in their ages.Joan smiled tentatively and moved slightly closer to Tom on the convertible's front seat. More than a few men had propositioned her, knowing she was married and admiring her physical attributes. She had been flattered but never unfaithful to Harry. And it could never come to that with Tom. She found herself wondering suddenly how Tom was in bed with Alice. Joan had always admired Alice's cool sophistication, and she found it difficult to picture Alice and Tom in intimately entwined embraces. She felt her cheeks getting hot at the thought. She wasn't accustomed to speculating about friends-even good friends-in this wayward manner.Tom glanced across at her and favored her with his attractive crooked grin as the convertible charged on through the warm summer night. "Everything okay?" he inquired."Fine," Joan declared stoutly. She was feeling warm, and she raised the long skirt of her evening gown surreptitiously and let cool air from the vent play upon her thighs. In a moment the teasing stream of air was eddying around her tightly-pantied crotch, and Joan relaxed at the subtle titillation. She sensed that Tom was gazing from time to time at her displayed thighs, but she found she didn't care.He reached across her suddenly and opened the glove compartment, handing her a flask. "Have one for the road," he invited her. "No reason it should be so long between drinks. It's exactly what you've been drinking."Joan started to refuse, then changed her mind. So what if she was feeling her drinks a little? One or two more couldn't hurt. She wasn't a child. And Tom was a friend. Besides, she felt a compulsion tonight to blot out her hurt and anxiety over what she was afraid was a growing estrangement with Harry.She took a full swallow from the flask, savoring the tart bite of the martini. Tom nodded approvingly and followed suit. They continued the drive in silence until Tom headed the car into the neon-lighted bustle of Broadway and pulled to the curb in front of a garishly-lighted night club. Tom handed the obsequious doorman an over-large tip, and a man appeared to park their car. Joan stumbled slightly as she stepped up to the sidewalk from the depths of the convertible, assisted by Tom's strong arm. "Oops," she murmured. "Tom, you're going to have to see to it that I don't make a spectacle of myself," she continued half-seriously. "I'm afraid the drinks are getting to me."Tom's hand closed comfortingly upon her bare arm. "You know you could never make a spectacle of yourself as far as I'm concerned, Joan," he said warmly. She felt an inner tingle as the male voice brushed sensuously against her nerve ends.She gazed curiously at the posters and pictures in the lobby of the club as Tom ushered her inside. Numerous unclad girls were depicted in various attitudes of dancing. Joan wondered what it must be like to get up on a platform without so much as a thread between one's naked body and the world and perform all manner of wriggling gyrations. It must be dreadfully degrading but at the same time somehow stimulating, she thought.The blaring beat of a rock band enveloped them as they walked inside, the strong rhythm so loud the sound waves were almost tangible. Strobe lights synchronized with the beat made Joan blink as she struggled to adjust to the comparative absence of light inside. They were seated at once at a small table, side by side, and Joan glanced up toward the stage in front of them to see a spotlighted naked girl swirling her bare hips in contortions that twitched her pubic hair at her audience. Joan looked quickly away in confusion.Tom ordered drinks from a bikinied waitress whose large breasts appeared about to overflow her skimpy uniform-top. "How d'you like it here?" he inquired expansively when the girl had placed their glasses in front of them and smilingly accepted Tom's tip. "Or are you still trying to get into the mood?""Perhaps that's it," Joan admitted. She took a taste of her drink. "I couldn't help thinking how those poor girls must feel up there with nothing covering them, hour after hour. They must feel awfully bored.""Probably no more so than you," Tom suggested. He leaned closer to her so that his lips were close to Joan's ear. "You probably have your pick of beautiful female bodies close at home when you cuddle with your girl friends."Joan shook her head smilingly although she could feel her face pinkening. "I don't cuddle with girls," she said. At least not since I married Harry, she amended it silently. She hurried on, anxious that Tom not think he was wasting his money. "I really am enjoying it here, Tom."He was quiet for a moment as the dancer left the stage and was replaced by a rather plain faced girl wearing collegiate cap-and-gown. The girl sang a rather pointless little song about sexual education and then removed the gown to display an amazingly well-made, plumply-curved nude body which caught Joan by surprise. The girl danced rather well, too. "She has a really cute figure," Joan observed. "I don't wonder that men come to these places." Glancing around, she was amazed at the number of women in the noisy but intent audience, and suddenly she didn't feel so conspicuous. She relaxed and took another swallow from her glass.Tom leaned toward her again. "Remind me to tell you sometime how fortunate I was at the age of eighteen to discover there was no such thing as an unattractive female body," he muttered into Joan's ear.