Christa Read Free Page A

up at him and perching herself on one elbow, slid her fingers down the sides of her clit, drawing up some wetness. She rubbed herself as his thrusts became wilder and faster and his breathing choppy. He kept his gaze on her fingers as she worked herself, knowing his watching inflamed her, made her come hard. She tipped back her head, closed her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep the sound in, trying to extend the fierce, raging pleasure exploding through her body.
    When she could hold it no longer, she let out a long, groaning scream and her pussy contracted hard around Marc’s cock.
    â€œFuck, yes!” he yelled, and shot off in her cunt. He grabbed her and held her tight against him, while she wrapped her legs around his waist.
    â€œOh, God, oh God, oh God,” he muttered into her neck. She could feel his heart against hers, working overtime.
    â€œYou can say that again,” she murmured. “Welcome home.”
    He laughed, and pulled back slightly to look into her face. His cock was still inside her.
    â€œI don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    Christa held his head and kissed him. A long, lingering kiss between two people who knew each other well, knew what each other liked.
    He pulled out from her and stood watching her, with her legs wide and his semen in her cunt. Christa stayed where she was and let him watch, only moving to peel off her dress and bra, leaving her stockings and stilettos on. Glancing at herself in the dining room mirror, she looked like a whore, used and dishevelled, her hair a rat’s nest and her mascara running. She liked that. So did Marc.
    He pulled up his jeans and fastened them, then sat in a chair in front of Christa, with his eyes on her pussy.
    She kept her legs open, lifting one so her foot rested on the table.
    â€œI have an idea I think you might like,” she said.
    â€œIs that so?”
    â€œWe haven’t had a playmate for a while.” She pushed her fingers into her pussy and covered them with his seed.
    â€œThat’s true,” he said, watching her fingers as she rubbed and pinched her nipples, smearing his semen across her breasts.
    â€œElizabeth Underwood.”
    His gaze met hers. “Really?”
    She nodded, slowly working more of his seed into her breasts.
    â€œThat’s good. Very good.” He stood and grabbed her hand. “Come on, I need a shower and a shave. Come and tell me everything.”
    ***
    Marc Forsyth scanned the cocktail party, looking for his wife. He spotted her standing in a small group, holding a glass of champagne. She had a look on her face he knew only too well. Boredom covered over with politeness. He could see why. A prominent Sydney socialite, who was keen to join Christa’s buddies in the Double D Dinner Club, monopolised the conversation. She was a well-known crashing bore, which is why she’d been vetoed from the group.
    Marc managed to catch Christa’s gaze and lifted his glass to her. The corners of her delectable mouth, which only an hour ago had been around his cock, lifted wryly. After sixteen years of marriage, she still had the ability to make him hard with one, slow, smile. At thirty-six she was even more beautiful than she was when he first met her. Most people thought her beauty was the result of his skill as a surgeon, but in reality the only work Christa ever had done was on some stretch marks post-baby. She tried botox once out of curiosity and hated it.
    â€œI look like a freak,” she’d said. “Exactly what everyone thinks the wife of a plastic surgeon should look like.”
    â€œYou don’t need it. I doubt you ever will,” Marc had told her.
    She’d laughed. “We’ll see when I’m forty-six or fifty-six.”
    He watched her now and marvelled at his good fortune. A beautiful, accomplished wife, two lively, intelligent teenaged children and work that engrossed and fulfilled him. Most people assumed