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Deanna tried to say the lines and nothing came out.
He pecked her on the lips. Deanna inhaled, involuntarily.
The scent of a day’s worth of hard work and sweat climbed off him, onto her, and right up to the center of her head. It touched the huge wobbling cushion that was her new libido and stamped up and down. Hard.
There was just so much of him. Every since they had come out to this cow town, Robert’s masculine, testosterone-laced scent had climbed into her panties and never ever left. Once she had masturbated just from the scent left on his pillow.
She could feel moisture budding on the outside of her pussy. Again. The brunette was dribbling so much these days she had to concentrate to stay hydrated.
She had shaved her snatch for him yesterday, and then cursed herself for the weakness.
"Hey, good news!" he said, heading over to the kitchen. Deanna just stood there, trying to put her fractured head back together. The scent… lingered. She tried to keep her eyes fixed on the chair. But they had fucked there just last week, her legs spread obscenely wide as—
"You can still do this!" she reminded herself. "You don’t need to climb aboard that monster for one more… delicious ride…"
She managed to squeak "What’s the news?"
"Promotion!" he said, smiling widely and cracking open a beer. And one for her. "Gonna be running the concrete laying from now on. The Boss likes my work ethic. An extra two dollars an hour plus the management is watching me now, you know?"
"Which means he makes, what, fourteen dollars an hour now?" her Mom’s voice told her.
Instead, Deanna beamed at him. "That’s amazing!" she gushed. He handed her the can. She got another intoxicating whiff of him. So sharp… and so very male. Like a tanned piece of leather, mixed with hot gravel and dirt.
He was staring at her tits.
Why shouldn’t he? They were so much bigger. Big tubs of boob, swiveling in a hot pink shirt. Even his artless kneading sent fireworks off in her bubbling head.
Deanna clenched her thighs together and felt moisture budding.
"Did you go job-hunting today?" he asked, sitting down on his favorite chair. "I saw a help wanted in front of that diner. You might meet some more people there."
His legs were open. He was bigger, too. A big dick. Robert said it was probably an illusion, or because of the hard work. But an extra inch and a half of meat between his thighs wasn’t something you could hide. Especially when it was always pumping between your legs. Or from behind.
"Not today. Maybe tomorrow," Deanna said.
He was right next to her. She could smell him. Like a rough, callused cowboy. Her man.
"Okay!" Robert said, cheerfully. He picked up his can. "What do you want to do to celebrate?"
"Celebrate," Deanna thought.
Right. He had gotten a promotion.
She should show her man how appreciative she was. She was his wife, after all.
Deanna sank gracefully to her knees. She pulled out her tits, first, to give Robert something to watch.
He grinned. Getting a spectacular blowjob on his return home had nearly become a ritual. Robert had no idea what was going on with his pretty young wife—the insatiable sexual appetite, the extreme attentiveness to his needs—but he didn’t feel like complaining.
Deanna fumbled with the fly. Robert’s cock was already at half-mast, rising through his boxers. The full force of his heady mix of pheromones socked her in the face as soon as she had his pants down.
She was soaking her panties.
"Don’t have sex with him," Deanna told herself. "Just a blowjob. You’ve given hundreds. Then you can go."
She had started counting days ever since half the women in the construction compound had announced pregnancies. Half the reason she was leaving was to avoid the growing chorus of goofily-grinning girls clutching expanding waistlines.
She descended on the familiar, reassuring length of Robert’s cock. The warmth filled her mouth to overflowing, and part of it bobbed at the back of her throat. She waited for it, patiently, and the first trickle of precum dropped into her mouth on cue.
"You’ve gotten real good at this, babe," Robert said, admiringly, and she blushed at the compliment. Deanna locked her lips around the hardness in her mouth, swiping her tongue along the underside, and coaxed dribbles of precum out of his cock.
Her pussy spasmed and clenched. At times she had slipped a finger into her needy snatch, but usually now she usually tried to concentrate on being the best cocksucker she could be.
"I’m a good wife," she told herself. "I’m being a supportive spouse." She was his. Owned, really. There to satisfy his needs.
Robert examined her bouncing tits. They had been adequate handfuls when they moved out here. But two months on country food had swelled them up into heavy knockers, topped with sensitive nipples.
Usually he felt content with a leisurely blowjob, but Robert had gotten a promotion that day. Most of the guys at work talked about fucking their braying wives and girlfriends into unconsciousness. Why not him?
"Hey Deanna, stand up," Robert said. She did, staring at him uncertainly with her bright green eyes. A drooling bit of cum fell out of her mouth.
"Why don’t you bend over on that chair?" He said, gesturing. His cock bobbed in front of him.
"But…" Deanna tried to say something. "At least get him to use a condom!" she shrieked at herself.
Her pussy was on fire. It was bright pink and juicy. She looked like a very fuckable wife with it smooth. At least, that’s what she had told the bathroom mirror.
Deanna rested her bountiful chest up against the side of the table, and peered back nervously at her husband’s approaching dick. White fluid spread across it.
"Don’t… come in me, okay?" she muttered, quietly. "Not today."
"Sure thing," Robert assured her, then slipped his cockhead neatly inside her slippery folds.
Deanna screamed.
Shocks of pleasure cascaded through her sweaty, overripe body. Her tits blushed with pleasure, and she scrabbled at her nipples, trying to squeeze out a few more drops of heat. The neighbors could hear in every direction. She didn’t care. Most of them were screamers, too.
More wisps of Robert’s sex-juice scent stained the inside of her head. Flickers of images rippled through her. Her tits, heavy with milk, dribbling all over the linoleum floor. Getting fucked in the exact same position, only with a huge belly, smiling during her afternoon lay. Cooing over a cradle as her man returned from work with an aching hardon. For her.
He was slick with juice. Robert’s cock burrowed towards her womb, jetting squirts of cum. He had lost control, deep within a slick, tight snatch, thrusting hard behind her swaying ass.
"Come in me, come in me!" Deanna screamed, lost in her own orgasm.
Robert came. Cum gushed and flowed around his cock, coating her with a white batch of goo. Deanna nearly banged her head against the table, and she weakly pulled and yanked on her oversensitive nipples.
When he pulled out of her, she dripped onto the floor, still perfumed with his masculine scent. Usually she spent her evenings luxuriating in it, bathed in his aroma, while cooking dinner. This time she played with the ropes of cum dribbling out of her, and imagined herself swelling up.
Robert, still naked, sat back down and picked up his beer.
"What’s this?" he said, pointing to a written down number next to the phone.
"What’s what, honey?" Deanna said, and rubbed her thighs together to hold in the cum.
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