lorna mmm
01-29-2010, 12:16 PM
I'm 5 feet 3 tall, a size 10 at 36b, 26, 36. My hair is shoulder length, kinky/curly and jet blck [ with a little help ] . I like clothes which show my curves to their best, and I like my skirts a little above the knee. My perfume of choice has always been Opium, classic and alluring. My eyes are large and dark brown, and my lips full. My features a little sharp, I was often told as a younger girl that I looked like Cher in her hottest period. I like my clothes and my make up in strong colours; black, red, purple. I enjoy the attention of men...but I've always considered myself to be an honerable married woman.
I'm so worried, I don't know what to do. Up until yesterday, these had been the happiest six months of my life; now I'm beside myself. My name is Lorna, I'm 34 years old, and I've been married to Wullie for nearly 10 years. We've been trying for a baby for about 3 years and I'm finally, deleriously, 5 months pregnant. The baby's fine, and I've never felt better; the problem is Rosie, my best friend. She's married to the love of my life, and my baby's father.
She called me this morning, before I was due for work, and started screaming blue murder down the phone; calling me a whore and a slut and all kinds of names. And she's right, of course she is. But what will happen now ? Oh, I couldn't care less if she tells Wullie; he's a good man really, and I wouldn't want to see him hurt, but he's not the point. Stevie is. Stevie is Rosie's husband, the father of her 4 sons, and also of my baby. The bastard. The adorable, wonderful, selfish bastard. She only found out because he decided that he wanted to have us both together. So he told her.
Let me go back to the start. It was a typical rainy summer morning in Scotland. Wullie was off early as usual to work, and I was rushing around at the last minute for the bus to the nursing home where I work. The postie was early and handed me the mail as I opened the door to leave; I knew the top letter was from the clinic at once. I was frozen. You know those times when you know it's bad news before you open the letter ? As I said, Wullie and I had been trying for a baby for 3 years, and while I was still too young for nhs invitro treatment, we'd gone through all the tests anyway. The letter told me what I hoped it would not, and knew it would; Wullie has a sperm count with less points than his stupid football team. I'd already been checked, double and triple, so I knew where the problem was; but you know men, it's never their fault in the bedroom, is it ? I sat down on the doorstep and broke into hopeless, helpless tears.
After an age I found myself wandering, feet wet, hair dripping, make up running, in the middle of a road; a screech of brakes, and a horn honking. A scream, which was mine, and the recognition of a voice. It was Stevie. Stevie is a plummer, self employed, always seems to be doing well; after all he's bringing up 4 lads, so he needs to be making money. He's 3 years younger than Rosie and I, 2 younger than Wullie, and far, far more a man than my husband will ever be. He's good looking, 'though no Brad Pitt, 6 foot 1 of work and gym honed muscle, shaved headed, and cock-sure, but not in that "full of himself" way. A deep, rich, warm voice. And a bad boy, knicker wetting smile.
His arm was around my shoulder as he led me to his work van, I hadn't heard him say a word. I sat down in the passenger seat and becan to get a grip on what had happened. I burst into tears again, and hugged him as he tried to calm me down. He was so comforting, and so easy to be with. Wullie and I hadn't been getting on for months, the strain was getting between us and sex was no fun at all, so a man with some charm was not what I was used to.
Stevie told me to let it all out if I wanted, as he drove me back home. That only made me feel even sillier, him being so calm. Looking back now, I think it was already begining. He told me to call work, asking if they knew Wullie, they don't. I did what he said. He took the phone from me and told someone that I'd been taken ill this morning, food poisoning, all his fault, no not serious, he'd cooked fish last night, shame as it'd been such a romantic evening but husbands in the kitchen eh ? I felt so safe. I've always considered myself to be a strong, independant woman, and would never allow Wullie to tell me what to do, ever; but this was another feeling. I felt so safe.
Back in the kitchen as Stevie made me coffee, it was so natural to tell him my troubles; after all, we'd known each other for years, and he knew that we'd been trying for a baby for such a long time. He listened, he was comforting, and it was so easy to talk to him. He took me in his arms and pulled me close, I didn't try to stop him. His big strong arms began to squeeze me tighter to his big, broad chest. He smells so good for a working man, and I liked the way he squeezed me; and I could feel it pressing against my stomach, growing bigger. That thing in his trousers was growing, throbbing as he continued to squeeze me more. He was whispering to me, telling me not to worry, it's not all over, Telling me what a beautiful, sexy, delicious woman he'd always thought me to be. And it was still growing, pushing, pressing into me. He kissed my neck and told me not to worry, all I needed was some love, the love that a beautiful woman like me deserved. His big, powerful hands were on my ass now, squeezing, kneeding me like doe, pulling me to grind against that cock. Now was my last chance to pull away, but I didn't. I wanted to be taken, to be told what to do, what to want.
My yellow work dress uniform has a zip down the front, and it's knee length. Stevie pushed me back a little and pulled the zip down in a slow, single movement. He flicked it off my shoulders and down my arms to drop on the floor beneath me. I stood in my white bra, knickers and tan tights, and white ballet pumps. That involentary movement to cover up was met with a one word command.
"Don't."
I complied. We stood for a few seconds as he took in the sight. I should've been embarassed, but I'd never been more excited in all my life. Then we were all over each other, lips, tounges, teeth and breath as my bra was off in a flick of his hand, my knickers and tights were down to my knees and I was lifted up in his arms and set down on the kitchen table. We kissed so deeply as my boobs were carresed with his fingertips, nipples flicked then lightly pinched. His hand moved down to my leaking pussy as he found my clit at once. Ooohh, bastard, sexy bastard. He gently tugged my hair back to kiss my neck and with the motion on my clitty, I thought I might piss myself. He stepped back and undressed, not too quickly, and he never took his eyes off me. A strong, athletic body with some chest hair, but not so much. Lovely muscles and, wow, that big, thick lump of cock; it's about 7 or 8 inches but as thick as you could ever want, and circumcised. And his balls are shaved [ hair removal cream, actually ] , and I wondered how many babies were swimming around in his fat, spunk heavy balls. A flash of remorse cut in as I felt I had to put up some pretense of a fight.
"Stevie, we can't, you're Rosie's man, and I'm not on the pill, you..."
"Shhh" as he put a finger to my lips. His other hand took my left and wrapped it around his cock, making me wank him back and forth.
"Do it slowly, and strongly, so I can feel your wedding ring." He said. " "I won't come inside you, don't worry, not until you ask me." One hand was on my breast, the other was back to my clitty. "In fact," he went on "I won't come inside unless you beg me. That way you'll have to be sure. Today is just for us."
And I was laid back on the table that Wullie had eaten brakefast from only an hour or two before, as Stevie attacked my senses with his tounge and his fingers and lips and breath; my lips, my neck, my belly, my thighs and my pussy; my desperate, aching pussy. I felt him kiss my feet as I was properly naked, then he was there, the head of that big, angry weapon pressing against my dripping pussy.
With my arse on the edge of the table and his arms supporting my legs, he began to rock gently back and forth, his cock prodding at my opening, teasing me, stroking my thighs. Then in one hard thrust, bang! and he was inside me. Aargh, the pain, but then the pleasure, the electric feeling of being so filled, and filled so well. He started to work me, slowly at first as I got used to the size and length. His thumb on my clit, he was talking to me, telling me that I was beautiful, that I could have what I wanted, anything I wanted, all the while he stroked me, building up his rythme. My body was on fire as I found myself clenching all over; my eyes, my teeth, my hands and feet, and my pussy as I grew used to the feel of him in me, my best friend's husband in my unprotected pussy. His pace was quickening and he was bringing me to the edge, still talking, only now more growling, like a big savage brute, telling me that he wanted to make me his property. My head thrashing around, I opened my eyes and saw the letter from the clinic lying on the table beside me, and that was the point. My orgasm was like a lovely shock as I found myself bolting upright and grabbing hold of him, my arms around his neck, my thighs trying hard to pull him furthar inside, and my teeth sinking into his chest. He lifted me up without missing a beat as I gripped ever tighter around him, and he was really pounding me now, fucking me hard and fast, and the smell and taste of his sweat was fantastic. My cum seemed to last for days as I thought my teeth might draw blood from his skin, I thought I would scream the whole street down. The excitement was wonderful as, over the next hour or so, I was bent over the table, my hair pulled, my bum slapped red, my pussy battered like an old dockside whore. Then I was back up on the table again, side on this time; banged hard and dirty with his fingers on my clitty. Two fingers of his other hand had worked their way inside my bumhole, to his mouth and back and forth, telling me that
"Your sexy shithole tastes like nectar, I bet your milk will be champagne."
At last he pulled out, and growled,
"On your knees, get on your knees and drink my spunk. You cunt, you sexy, fucking cunt"
I obeyed, of course. He gripped me by the hair and forced his cock into my mouth. The taste of my pussy, then the taste of his sperm, so much thick sperm as my crazy, fucked breathing made me struggle to hold my position, but his rough control made sure I would. Then he let go my hair, sighed, smiled down, and gently ordered
"Gargle."
Again I obeyed without thought, looking up to this big strong stud, I gargled on his spunk until he was satisfied, and he told me to swallow.
He picked me up in his arms and carried me through to the bedroom, where we spent the whole day making love, in the marital bed I share still with Wullie. I swallowed 4 loads, I think, that day, and came myself many times. When he left, in the late afternoon, my head was still spinning. What to do, what the hell to do ? A girl should never trust the orgasm, but I knew I was in love with Stevie, and that I wanted his kids, plural. But this was mental, he's married to my best mate, the lucky bitch, and they've got 4 children together, so he and I together would be impossible to work in so many ways. My sore pussy was purring and aching at once as we'd even fucked in the shower just before he left to go home to her, and my bum was all red raw and bruised from the spanking he'd given me. Dressed and getting ready to cook the evening meal for myself and my husband, I noticed the letter from the clinic, still there on the table, the table where I'd been first fucked as an unfaithful slut. I knew what I had to do, I took the letter and ripped it into a hundred pieces, and threw it in the bin. I didn't know what the outcome would be, but the die was cast; one way or another, I would belong to Stevie, I'd become his.
Anyway, Wullie's coming home soon, so I'd best make some food. I don't know what will happen, will Rosie talk, or can Stevie sort things out? I'll tell you more later, if you want.
I'm so worried, I don't know what to do. Up until yesterday, these had been the happiest six months of my life; now I'm beside myself. My name is Lorna, I'm 34 years old, and I've been married to Wullie for nearly 10 years. We've been trying for a baby for about 3 years and I'm finally, deleriously, 5 months pregnant. The baby's fine, and I've never felt better; the problem is Rosie, my best friend. She's married to the love of my life, and my baby's father.
She called me this morning, before I was due for work, and started screaming blue murder down the phone; calling me a whore and a slut and all kinds of names. And she's right, of course she is. But what will happen now ? Oh, I couldn't care less if she tells Wullie; he's a good man really, and I wouldn't want to see him hurt, but he's not the point. Stevie is. Stevie is Rosie's husband, the father of her 4 sons, and also of my baby. The bastard. The adorable, wonderful, selfish bastard. She only found out because he decided that he wanted to have us both together. So he told her.
Let me go back to the start. It was a typical rainy summer morning in Scotland. Wullie was off early as usual to work, and I was rushing around at the last minute for the bus to the nursing home where I work. The postie was early and handed me the mail as I opened the door to leave; I knew the top letter was from the clinic at once. I was frozen. You know those times when you know it's bad news before you open the letter ? As I said, Wullie and I had been trying for a baby for 3 years, and while I was still too young for nhs invitro treatment, we'd gone through all the tests anyway. The letter told me what I hoped it would not, and knew it would; Wullie has a sperm count with less points than his stupid football team. I'd already been checked, double and triple, so I knew where the problem was; but you know men, it's never their fault in the bedroom, is it ? I sat down on the doorstep and broke into hopeless, helpless tears.
After an age I found myself wandering, feet wet, hair dripping, make up running, in the middle of a road; a screech of brakes, and a horn honking. A scream, which was mine, and the recognition of a voice. It was Stevie. Stevie is a plummer, self employed, always seems to be doing well; after all he's bringing up 4 lads, so he needs to be making money. He's 3 years younger than Rosie and I, 2 younger than Wullie, and far, far more a man than my husband will ever be. He's good looking, 'though no Brad Pitt, 6 foot 1 of work and gym honed muscle, shaved headed, and cock-sure, but not in that "full of himself" way. A deep, rich, warm voice. And a bad boy, knicker wetting smile.
His arm was around my shoulder as he led me to his work van, I hadn't heard him say a word. I sat down in the passenger seat and becan to get a grip on what had happened. I burst into tears again, and hugged him as he tried to calm me down. He was so comforting, and so easy to be with. Wullie and I hadn't been getting on for months, the strain was getting between us and sex was no fun at all, so a man with some charm was not what I was used to.
Stevie told me to let it all out if I wanted, as he drove me back home. That only made me feel even sillier, him being so calm. Looking back now, I think it was already begining. He told me to call work, asking if they knew Wullie, they don't. I did what he said. He took the phone from me and told someone that I'd been taken ill this morning, food poisoning, all his fault, no not serious, he'd cooked fish last night, shame as it'd been such a romantic evening but husbands in the kitchen eh ? I felt so safe. I've always considered myself to be a strong, independant woman, and would never allow Wullie to tell me what to do, ever; but this was another feeling. I felt so safe.
Back in the kitchen as Stevie made me coffee, it was so natural to tell him my troubles; after all, we'd known each other for years, and he knew that we'd been trying for a baby for such a long time. He listened, he was comforting, and it was so easy to talk to him. He took me in his arms and pulled me close, I didn't try to stop him. His big strong arms began to squeeze me tighter to his big, broad chest. He smells so good for a working man, and I liked the way he squeezed me; and I could feel it pressing against my stomach, growing bigger. That thing in his trousers was growing, throbbing as he continued to squeeze me more. He was whispering to me, telling me not to worry, it's not all over, Telling me what a beautiful, sexy, delicious woman he'd always thought me to be. And it was still growing, pushing, pressing into me. He kissed my neck and told me not to worry, all I needed was some love, the love that a beautiful woman like me deserved. His big, powerful hands were on my ass now, squeezing, kneeding me like doe, pulling me to grind against that cock. Now was my last chance to pull away, but I didn't. I wanted to be taken, to be told what to do, what to want.
My yellow work dress uniform has a zip down the front, and it's knee length. Stevie pushed me back a little and pulled the zip down in a slow, single movement. He flicked it off my shoulders and down my arms to drop on the floor beneath me. I stood in my white bra, knickers and tan tights, and white ballet pumps. That involentary movement to cover up was met with a one word command.
"Don't."
I complied. We stood for a few seconds as he took in the sight. I should've been embarassed, but I'd never been more excited in all my life. Then we were all over each other, lips, tounges, teeth and breath as my bra was off in a flick of his hand, my knickers and tights were down to my knees and I was lifted up in his arms and set down on the kitchen table. We kissed so deeply as my boobs were carresed with his fingertips, nipples flicked then lightly pinched. His hand moved down to my leaking pussy as he found my clit at once. Ooohh, bastard, sexy bastard. He gently tugged my hair back to kiss my neck and with the motion on my clitty, I thought I might piss myself. He stepped back and undressed, not too quickly, and he never took his eyes off me. A strong, athletic body with some chest hair, but not so much. Lovely muscles and, wow, that big, thick lump of cock; it's about 7 or 8 inches but as thick as you could ever want, and circumcised. And his balls are shaved [ hair removal cream, actually ] , and I wondered how many babies were swimming around in his fat, spunk heavy balls. A flash of remorse cut in as I felt I had to put up some pretense of a fight.
"Stevie, we can't, you're Rosie's man, and I'm not on the pill, you..."
"Shhh" as he put a finger to my lips. His other hand took my left and wrapped it around his cock, making me wank him back and forth.
"Do it slowly, and strongly, so I can feel your wedding ring." He said. " "I won't come inside you, don't worry, not until you ask me." One hand was on my breast, the other was back to my clitty. "In fact," he went on "I won't come inside unless you beg me. That way you'll have to be sure. Today is just for us."
And I was laid back on the table that Wullie had eaten brakefast from only an hour or two before, as Stevie attacked my senses with his tounge and his fingers and lips and breath; my lips, my neck, my belly, my thighs and my pussy; my desperate, aching pussy. I felt him kiss my feet as I was properly naked, then he was there, the head of that big, angry weapon pressing against my dripping pussy.
With my arse on the edge of the table and his arms supporting my legs, he began to rock gently back and forth, his cock prodding at my opening, teasing me, stroking my thighs. Then in one hard thrust, bang! and he was inside me. Aargh, the pain, but then the pleasure, the electric feeling of being so filled, and filled so well. He started to work me, slowly at first as I got used to the size and length. His thumb on my clit, he was talking to me, telling me that I was beautiful, that I could have what I wanted, anything I wanted, all the while he stroked me, building up his rythme. My body was on fire as I found myself clenching all over; my eyes, my teeth, my hands and feet, and my pussy as I grew used to the feel of him in me, my best friend's husband in my unprotected pussy. His pace was quickening and he was bringing me to the edge, still talking, only now more growling, like a big savage brute, telling me that he wanted to make me his property. My head thrashing around, I opened my eyes and saw the letter from the clinic lying on the table beside me, and that was the point. My orgasm was like a lovely shock as I found myself bolting upright and grabbing hold of him, my arms around his neck, my thighs trying hard to pull him furthar inside, and my teeth sinking into his chest. He lifted me up without missing a beat as I gripped ever tighter around him, and he was really pounding me now, fucking me hard and fast, and the smell and taste of his sweat was fantastic. My cum seemed to last for days as I thought my teeth might draw blood from his skin, I thought I would scream the whole street down. The excitement was wonderful as, over the next hour or so, I was bent over the table, my hair pulled, my bum slapped red, my pussy battered like an old dockside whore. Then I was back up on the table again, side on this time; banged hard and dirty with his fingers on my clitty. Two fingers of his other hand had worked their way inside my bumhole, to his mouth and back and forth, telling me that
"Your sexy shithole tastes like nectar, I bet your milk will be champagne."
At last he pulled out, and growled,
"On your knees, get on your knees and drink my spunk. You cunt, you sexy, fucking cunt"
I obeyed, of course. He gripped me by the hair and forced his cock into my mouth. The taste of my pussy, then the taste of his sperm, so much thick sperm as my crazy, fucked breathing made me struggle to hold my position, but his rough control made sure I would. Then he let go my hair, sighed, smiled down, and gently ordered
"Gargle."
Again I obeyed without thought, looking up to this big strong stud, I gargled on his spunk until he was satisfied, and he told me to swallow.
He picked me up in his arms and carried me through to the bedroom, where we spent the whole day making love, in the marital bed I share still with Wullie. I swallowed 4 loads, I think, that day, and came myself many times. When he left, in the late afternoon, my head was still spinning. What to do, what the hell to do ? A girl should never trust the orgasm, but I knew I was in love with Stevie, and that I wanted his kids, plural. But this was mental, he's married to my best mate, the lucky bitch, and they've got 4 children together, so he and I together would be impossible to work in so many ways. My sore pussy was purring and aching at once as we'd even fucked in the shower just before he left to go home to her, and my bum was all red raw and bruised from the spanking he'd given me. Dressed and getting ready to cook the evening meal for myself and my husband, I noticed the letter from the clinic, still there on the table, the table where I'd been first fucked as an unfaithful slut. I knew what I had to do, I took the letter and ripped it into a hundred pieces, and threw it in the bin. I didn't know what the outcome would be, but the die was cast; one way or another, I would belong to Stevie, I'd become his.
Anyway, Wullie's coming home soon, so I'd best make some food. I don't know what will happen, will Rosie talk, or can Stevie sort things out? I'll tell you more later, if you want.