Lust Unlimited

An eBook By Jay Lawrence and Harry Neptune.

Harry made a sound like antique bagpipes.

"Oof! Gerroff my belly! And before breakfast, too! You know I can't do a thing 'til I've had my eggs over easy!"

Relentlessly, I hunted down his snoozing manhood and clasped it tight within my hot little hand. My husband yelped.

"You've been over easy for way too long, darling. I think it's time you saw the light and were saved by the love of a good woman."

I was quite getting into the matrimonial lark. In fact, I wondered why I hadn't tried it before. Oh, it was something to do with that "love, honor and obey" clause. But no one ever paid much attention to the small print, anyway. The power was rather intoxicating. Seductively, I slipped my silky robe from my shoulders, revealing my heavy breasts. Sensing my strategy, Harry turned his head to one side and scrunched his eyes shut. I began to rock gently and rhythmically against his crotch, enjoying the way his big torso made me open my thighs full stretch. Riding horsy was one of our favorite games. Harry clenched his teeth. I picked up speed, moving from a sedate walk to a nice crisp trot.

"Bouncy, bouncy! Ooh, look at those boobies go! Up, down, up, down, up, down. Jiggle, joggle, jiggle, joggle, jiggle, joggle!"

There was a large mirror on the wall above the bed and I watched my plump breasts twitch and frisk in the bright morning sunlight. Not bad, Mrs. Neptune. Not bad at all. It was a few years since I'd last appeared in a blue movie but I still had the moves. I felt a vague stirring between my legs and Harry began to mutter.

"Cold showers, thick tights, cold showers, thick tights..."

giggled and upgraded the trot to a canter. My boobs began to slap lustily against my ribs as I gripped Harry's hips with my thighs and squirmed my soaking pussy against his helplessly swelling shaft. Now, I understood why people got married. Amazing to think that such a large percentage of the populace were sadists, however. Strains of Wagner filled my head as I rode my trusty steed towards a rousing climax. The muttering intensified and the pitch rose by an octave. My beloved sounded like a Buddhist monk on acid.

"Oatmeal and woolly vests! Oatmeal and woolly vests!"

The sweet taste of victory close at hand, I launched myself into full-tilt gallop and the William Tell Overture, popularly known as the theme from the Lone Ranger.

"Da da da, da da da, da da dah dah dah! Da da da, da da da, da da da dah dah!"

"Cold tights, woolly oatmeal..."

"Hi ho, Silver, away!"

Now we bounced as one, the furious rhythm carrying us along in a wild orgiastic frenzy. Harry's cock was hard and full against my dripping cleft. With a deft feat of syncopation, I captured his luscious love-tool with my hungry snatch and gripped as if my life depended on it. My husband howled in a schizoid blend of pleasure and despair.

"Bitch! Oh, Jesus, that feels good! You've never done it like this before! Aaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Nnnyurrrghh!!!"

I felt my own orgasm approach hot on the heels of Harry's. Interestingly, marriage seemed to be bringing out my sluttish side. Maybe wedded bliss was the ultimate kink for a card-carrying pervert and confirmed single. My singing rose to an ecstatic shriek.

"Ooh, yes! YES!! Harry!!!"

dismounted with as much grace as I could muster (which wasn't much, as I had cramp in both calves and my knees had seized up). Harry lay like a beached whale, a strange glazed look in his eyes. Briskly, I threw off my robe and headed for the shower, attempting to limp with a slink. Casually, I called out from the bathroom:

"I think we can call this marriage consummated"...

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