Her Nemesis Master (Dark BDSM Erotica) Read Free Page B

the following morning to find a wet spot in the
bed, but it wasn’t the semen of the man in her dreams – it was her
own vaginal juices that were to blame for the stain. This was very
odd, a copious emission from her normally dry pussy. And even rarer
was the fact that Emily was hungry for some sex... and first thing
in the morning! How depraved was that!
    She roused her husband and demanded that he fuck her. Les was
totally stunned by the unusual request and the depths of Emily’s
passion: sex in the morning before a shower and brushing their
teeth – that was something Emily had never allowed. Their sex had
always been clean and sanitised, not raw and dirty like
this.
    Raw and dirty! That says a lot about the hard put-upon Mr.
Johnson if he thinks dirty sex means not showering first. But then
he came from the Welsh Valleys and had led a sheltered life, so
perhaps it’s understandable.
    Whatever! He still made the most if it. Les did his happy duty
and slipped his wife a morning glory – it was modest in size, just
like his imagination when it came to fornication. He slipped his
little prick into her, moaning with pleasure, the entry helped
along by an unusual moistness to his wife’s pussy that added to the
thrill. Bang! Bang! Bang! And then the man was done. A few minutes
of missionary pounding and he was squirting out his load with his
face smothered in the pillow, muffling his grunts in consideration
of the neighbours.
    A few minutes! That was usually more than adequate for Mrs.
Johnson, but on this occasion Emily had wanted more. She had wanted
a hell of a lot more in fact! Needy of the contact, she held onto
her husband after he had come, sinking her talons into his back as
she clung onto him for dear life. When he tried to pull out she
held him fast, wrapping her legs around him to prolong the moment.
She silently cursed when his cock went soft then resignedly let him
go. Without a word she got up and went into the en-suite shower
where she did what Les had been incapable of, that morning, or at
any time during their four years of marriage – bringing his wife to
climax.
    Emily finished off the job. In that small confined space she
masturbated, fingering her bloated pussy lips and rubbing her
surprisingly sensitive clit, using Les’s spunk as a lubricant. With
her face to the wall, squashed against the tiles, she felt the
water cascade down her back and run down the gulley of her ass
crack. She could feel the water on her pucker, warm like a cock.
Then inspired, she did something totally bizarre.
    She touched her asshole!
    Emily Johnson – the prim and proper, ‘butter wouldn’t melt’,
right little madam who’d never once been buggered or anally
invaded, touched her asshole! She rubbed the tight pucker as she
fingered her pussy, and finding it pleasurable, she rubbed some
more. Daring to grow bolder, she pushed a nail inside, finding the
entry shockingly exciting. Carefully she pressed onwards till she
reached the first knuckle – an act totally depraved for this slave
to propriety. That was as far as she went, but it did the trick. In
Emily’s mind it was a cock that had invaded her virginal bowels -
the cock of a rough uncouth man that she imagined was behind her
performing this foul deed.
    In the cleanliness of the shower she could taste the filth;
above the pure scent of soap she could smell the musk; and through
the noise of falling water she could hear his words: ‘Cock loving
bitch who takes it up the ass!’
    Emily screeched as the orgasm hit her. Then aware of the
noise, she brought the hand from her pussy up to her mouth to
stifle more screams as wave after wave of never before known bliss
ripped through her body with a power that shook her. Her fingers
were coated with Les’s cum – it found its way onto Emily’s tongue.
The taste disgusted her yet it drove her climax on – the waves
getting stronger under the salty flavour. Driven by a raw animal
passion, Emily gathered some more,