Pegged Until My Wife Got Home

She is waiting for him, the one who fills her mind. ‘What insanity prompted me to do this?’ she thought. Yet she knew. Their connection had been instant, and lasting. For years, they had been arranging the clandestine meetings, as they were both unable to stop thinking of the other. Finally she sees him, walking out from the airport terminal. As always, she runs into his arms, instantly safe and secure through his strength. Yet she is also a touch uncomfortable because he sees right through her into that deepest part of herself. A quick kiss, a touching of lips, yet somehow this simple embrace reminds them both of all the passion that always rises between them. ‘I’m so glad you’re here! How was your flight?’ As they walk back towards the baggage claim she peppers him with questions in an attempt to disguise her nervousness. Inwardly she wonders if he likes what he sees, if she is the one who will finally hold this restless warrior’s heart. On the drive home, back to her small first. He always cums inside of me, and lays on my back for a minute. Then he pulls out, I drop to my knees and suck him clean, and finish with a napkin. And all the while, his cock is still rock hard! I help him with his undershorts and socks, and even tie his shoes. He pats my cheek and then he's gone, leaving me on the floor, stars in my eyes, his semen running out of my fuck hole. He doesn't even bother closing the door when he walks out. Usually there'll be someone outside, checking me out as I sit there, applying a fresh coat of lipstick. Well, I mean, we make so much noise when we fuck that it attracts a lot of attention. Most of the time I get my next trick right away because of that. When I was locked up I learned about a thing the inmates call "the covered wagon." Depending on the facility, this can be 2 different things. The first experience I had with had with the covered wagon was in an old county jail, where the cell blocks and cells were old school iron bars. This was about a.
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