Mad Fuckers: Neglected Housewife's Needs

Jennifer White’s schedule is packed and her belly’s still flat. She figures the nursery can wait till Monday, until her front door thumps. It’s the neighbor kid, Jay, saying her husband sent him over for the weekend to help. Jennifer blinks. “Help with what?” Turns out Mister Predictable never ran the idea past her. Again. She huffs, vents, then catches herself and drags Jay inside anyway—he looks ready to bolt. They land on the couch. Jennifer’s rant keeps going: ever since the positive test her husband’s been acting like she’s spun glass, and that includes the bedroom. No rough stuff, no dirty words, nothing fun. Jay’s eyebrows hit the ceiling, but his cock’s already pressing against his zipper. Jennifer clocks the bulge and smiles. “Want to fill in for him? I’m not fragile. Prove it.” Jay doesn’t need another cue. He yanks her top up, buries his face between her tits, then slides his dick between them while she pushes them together. A few thrusts later she’s on her knees, gagging on him, spit dripping down his balls as he throat-fucks her right there on the rug. When she pulls off for air she grins, pupils blown. “Bedroom. Now.” She flips onto her back at the edge of the mattress, legs hooked over Jay’s shoulders, pussy aimed straight up. He slams straight down, piledriver-style, pounding her so deep each thrust shakes the frame. Sweat flies. She eggs him on—“harder, come on”—until he loses rhythm, jerks out, and paints her chest while she laughs, sticky, satisfied, already planning round two.