Caught by His Horny Wife

Teresa shoved the apartment door shut twenty minutes earlier than Andre ever counted on, keys biting her palm, blouse stuck to her back from the heat. Fifty years old and horny as fuck, she had spent the whole drive with her thighs clamped, picturing a mouth on her, picturing the wet, stupid mess she made when someone ate her the way she liked. Oral was the thing she craved hardest. She wanted it sloppy, noisy, and mean, and she liked the way her body surrendered into thick, dripping orgasms that left her shaking and filthy. Nasty talk made it worse in the best way. She wanted to be told she was a greedy cunt and she wanted to say worse back.

The living room was dim except for the television glow. She stopped in the doorway and the air left her.

Andre, fifty-two, her husband, sat sprawled on the couch with his pants around his ankles and his cock locked in his fist. On the screen two women were tangled on white sheets, mouths open, hands shoved between each other’s legs. Lesbian porn, loud and unashamed. His eyes were glued to it. His wrist worked a steady, greedy stroke, the swollen head of his cock shining each time his fist dragged up.

Teresa did not announce herself. She stood there and watched him stroke, a wicked grin cutting across her mouth. The tension hit immediately and deliciously—the wet click of his hand, the rough drag of his breath, the women moaning on the television, and him completely unaware that his wife had come home early and was drinking in every second of him jerking off like he couldn’t help it. His hips twitched. A low sound broke out of his throat. He squeezed harder, thumb smearing pre-cum down the thick shaft, chasing the image of one woman burying her face and licking until the other one sobbed.

She shifted her weight. A floorboard creaked.

Andre’s head snapped around. His hand froze mid-stroke. Color rushed up his neck and into his ears.

“Jesus—Teresa.”

She did not look away from his fist, or from the hard length of him jutting up, or from the guilty heat in his face. The grin stayed. She let the silence stretch until he swallowed and his cock jumped against his own fingers.

“Don’t you dare put that away,” she said, voice low. “I just walked in on my husband beating his cock to two women eating each other, and I am not done looking.”

Andre’s ears went redder, but his hand didn’t leave his shaft. His eyes flicked from her face to the television and back, caught between shame and the fact that he was still rock hard. On the screen the darker-haired woman had the blonde pinned and was licking her in long, obscene strokes, tongue flat, chin already wet.

Teresa dropped her bag by the door and crossed the room slow, heels clicking, that wicked grin never slipping. She stopped in front of the couch and looked him over like she had all the time in the world—the pants bunched at his ankles, the shirt rucked up, the fist still wrapped around a cock that hadn’t softened one bit under her stare.

“Caught,” she said, almost laughing. “My big strong husband, home alone, porn on, cock out, stroking like a desperate little pervert. You didn’t even hear the door. You were too busy watching that girl get her pussy licked open.”

“I thought you were—”

“Later.” She tipped her head at the screen. The blonde was gasping, thighs shaking, grabbing the other woman’s hair and grinding up into her mouth. Teresa’s own cunt clenched at the sound. “Look at you. Pre-cum all over your knuckles. Were you close? Were you about to shoot all over your own stomach while two women made each other come?”

Andre’s jaw worked. His fist gave one helpless squeeze. “Yeah.”

“Good.” She kicked her heels off and unbuttoned her blouse, eyes still on him, on the porn, on the mess he was already making of himself. “Then don’t stop. Scoot over. We’re watching it together.”

He blinked. “Together?”

“You heard me.” She stripped the blouse off, then the bra, breasts heavy and bare, nipples already tight. Fifty and horny as fuck and not interested in pretending otherwise. “You got caught jerking off like a nasty boy, and instead of punishing you I’m going to sit right here and play with my cunt while you keep stroking that cock. Unless you’d rather I leave you blue and aching.”

“No,” he said fast. His voice had gone rough. “Stay. Jesus, Teresa, stay.”

She shoved her pants and panties down in one motion and stepped out of them, the smell of her arousal already thick. She dropped onto the couch beside him, close enough that her bare thigh pressed his, and faced the television. The women had switched. Now the blonde was on her back with her legs spread wide, and the other woman was sucking her clit while two fingers pumped in and out, shiny to the knuckles.

“Keep going,” Teresa ordered. “Stroke it. Slow. I want to see every inch.”

Andre obeyed. His fist slid down to the base and back up, slower now, showing off because she was watching. Teresa spread her knees and dragged two fingers through her slit. She was soaked. The first touch made her hiss. She circled her clit, then pushed two fingers inside and curled them, fucking herself in time with the woman on the screen.

“Look at that,” she said, nasty and low, eyes on the television, hand working between her own thighs. “She’s got her whole mouth on that cunt. Tongue in deep. She’s going to make her squirt if she keeps sucking like that. You like watching women get eaten, Andre? You like seeing a pussy get used until it’s dripping down somebody’s chin?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“Of course you do. That’s why I caught you with your cock in your fist and your brain in your pants.” She laughed, mean and hot, and rubbed her clit harder. Wet sounds filled the space between the television moans. “Finger her. Yeah, just like that. Two fingers, then three. Stretch that slut open while you suck her clit. God, I can hear how wet she is. That’s what I want. I want a mouth on me until I’m sloppy and stupid and coming all over somebody’s face.”

Andre groaned and stroked faster. Pre-cum strung from the head to his thumb. Teresa turned her head just enough to watch his cock jump in his grip, then looked back at the screen where the blonde was writhing, heels digging into the mattress, crying out while she got licked and fingered without mercy.

“Don’t you come yet,” Teresa snapped. “You sit there and jerk that thing and you listen to me. See how she’s grabbing her own tits? Pinching her nipples while she gets eaten. That’s what a greedy cunt does. She doesn’t just take it. She demands it. She tells you to lick harder, suck harder, put your tongue in her ass if she wants it. And you do it, because you’re my dirty boy and you got caught.”

“Teresa—”

“Shut up and stroke.” She fucked herself deeper, three fingers now, palm grinding her clit, the couch creaking under them. Her voice went filthier, aggressive, spilling out of her the way it always did when she was this wound up. “That girl on top is going to come. Watch her thighs. Watch her shake. She’s grinding on that tongue like she owns it. That’s me in about two minutes if you don’t get your mouth ready. I’m going to climb up there and sit on your face and you’re going to eat me until I make a mess, and you’re going to thank me for catching you.”

Andre’s breath sawed. His fist was a blur, then he forced it slower because she had told him not to finish. His cock looked painful, flushed dark, veins standing out, a fat bead of pre-cum welling at the slit every time he squeezed the head.

On the screen the blonde broke. She came loud, hips bucking, squirting in a thin shining arc across the other woman’s mouth and chest. Teresa moaned at the sight and at her own fingers, cunt clutching, so close it hurt.

“Fuck, that’s filthy,” she panted. “She just squirted all over that pretty face. I want that. I want your mouth drowned. I want you tasting me while I watch them keep going.” The darker-haired woman was laughing, licking her lips, already crawling up to kiss the blonde with a wet, open mouth. Teresa’s control snapped. “I can’t sit here anymore. Get your hand off your cock and get on your back. Now.”

Andre didn’t argue. He kicked his pants the rest of the way off, shoved a cushion aside, and stretched out along the couch, cock standing straight up against his stomach, chest heaving. Teresa swung a leg over and climbed onto him, knees planted on either side of his ribs, her dripping cunt hovering above his sternum. She looked down at him with that same wicked grin, meaner now, hungrier.

“Hands,” she ordered. “Finger my ass. Pinch my nipples. Hard. Don’t be gentle or I’ll sit on your face and not let you breathe until I feel like it.”

“Yes,” he rasped, and both hands came up at once.

One palm closed over her left breast and pinched the nipple between finger and thumb, twisting until she gasped and her cunt clenched on nothing. The other hand slid down the curve of her ass, spread her, and pushed a saliva-slick finger against her tight hole. She bore down and took it, the stretch sharp and perfect, and he worked it in to the second knuckle while he pinched harder, rolling both nipples now, one then the other, cruel little twists that shot straight to her clit.

“That’s it,” she snarled. “Deeper in my ass. Curl it. Make me feel it while I use your mouth.” She shuffled forward on her knees, dripping cunt leaving a wet trail up his chest, until she was poised over his face. The smell of her hit him and his cock jerked against his own belly. “Open. Tongue out. I’m sitting on it.”

She lowered herself and slid her dripping cunt onto his mouth.

Andre groaned into her and licked. His tongue flattened and dragged from her entrance up to her clit, then speared inside, fucking her with it while his finger pumped her ass in short, nasty strokes. Teresa grabbed the arm of the couch and ground down, smearing herself across his lips, his nose, his chin. She was already so wet it was obscene—slick sounds every time she rolled her hips, her juices coating his face, dripping into his stubble.

“Eat it,” she demanded, voice breaking into something aggressive and wrecked. “Suck my clit. Get your tongue all the way in that cunt. You were jerking off to girls doing this and now you’re the one getting sat on, so do it right. Finger my ass harder. Pinch—fuck—pinch my nipple again, don’t stop.”

He did everything she said. His free hand mauled her breast, pinching and tugging the nipple until it throbbed, while the finger in her ass fucked in and out, a second finger nudging at the rim until she hissed and took that too. His mouth sealed over her clit and sucked, tongue flicking fast, then slow, then fast again, the way he knew undid her. Teresa rode his face without mercy, thighs trembling, ass clenching around his fingers, cunt pouring onto his tongue.

“Nasty boy,” she panted, looking down at his glazed eyes, at her own slick shining on his cheeks. “Caught with your cock out and now you’re drowning in it. Lick. Lick like you want me to come all over your fucking mouth. I’m close. I’m so close I’m going to make a mess. Don’t you pull away. Take it.”

On the television the women were still going, kissing and fingering, moans layering over the wet filth of Andre’s mouth on her. Teresa didn’t care about the screen anymore. She cared about the tongue stabbing into her, the suction on her clit, the fingers stretching her ass, the vicious pinch on her nipple that kept her right on the edge. She ground harder, circling, smearing, using his whole face. Her orgasm gathered low and mean, a hot clench that spread through her belly and down her thighs.

“I’m coming,” she gasped, then louder, nasty and shameless. “Fuck, I’m coming on your mouth—eat it, eat my cunt, don’t stop—”

It hit sloppy and huge. Her cunt spasmed and gushed, a hot rush of squirt flooding his lips and chin, splattering his neck, soaking the cushion under his head. She sobbed and kept grinding, riding the orgasm out on his tongue, thighs shaking so hard the couch creaked, another pulse of wetness squirting across his mouth while he groaned and swallowed and licked her through every filthy second. His fingers stayed buried in her ass, fucking her through it, and he pinched her nipple hard enough that the pleasure spiked again and she came in a second messy wave, crying out, cunt fluttering, juice running down his cheeks into his hair.

She didn’t give him time to breathe pretty. Still twitching, still dripping, she lifted off his soaked face, spun around on her knees, and threw a leg over so she was facing his feet. Reverse. His cock stood up angry and red, leaking, begging. She reached back, lined him up with her soaked cunt, and sank down in one long, greedy slide until he was buried to the root.

“Oh fuck,” Andre choked. His hands flew to her hips.

“Thrust,” she snarled, already bouncing. “Violent. I want it deep. I want you pounding up into this cunt like you’re trying to ruin me. And you do not pull out. You’re going to cum in me. You’re going to fill my cunt while I ride you, do you hear me?”

“Yes—fuck—yes.”

He planted his heels and drove up into her, hard, the wet slap of their bodies loud over the porn still playing behind them. Teresa screamed and rode him harder, reverse-cowgirl, ass flexing, his cock spearing into the swollen mess of her. Every thrust shoved a broken sound out of her throat. She braced a hand on his thigh and reached back between her own legs with the other, found his balls, and closed her fist around them.

“There,” she panted, squeezing, tugging just enough to make him jerk. “These. I’m holding your balls while you fuck me. Cum in my cunt, Andre. Cum in it. Pump it deep. I caught you jerking this cock and now it belongs in me until you empty it. Thrust. Harder. Violently. Don’t you dare go soft on me.”

He snarled and slammed up into her, hips pistoning, the couch thumping the wall. Teresa screamed his name and worse, filthy demands spilling out of her without filter. “Fill me. Shoot it in my cunt. I want to feel you pulsing. I want your cum leaking out around your cock while I keep riding. Squeeze—God—your balls are so full. Give it to me. Give me every drop, you dirty fucking boy.”

She tugged his balls again, rolling them in her palm, and the sensation ripped through him. His thrusts went ragged and brutal. Teresa’s second orgasm was already clawing up her spine, her clit swollen and untouched now except for the grind of her own body, the thick cock battering the spot inside her that made her vision white out. She bore down, cunt gripping him, and reached the edge screaming.

“I’m squirting—fuck, I’m squirting on you—”

She came again, sloppy and violent, and this time the gush hit his belly. Hot squirt sprayed across his stomach and chest in thick pulses as she ground down and shook, coating him, running into the line of hair below his navel, dripping off his sides onto the couch. She didn’t stop riding. She kept bouncing through it, milking him, fist still wrapped around his balls, tugging in time with every upward slam of his hips.

“Cum,” she screamed. “Cum in my cunt right now. Fill me up. I want it. I want your load so deep I can taste it. Shoot, Andre. Shoot in me.”

He broke with a raw shout and thrust up as hard as he could, burying himself, cock pulsing hard inside her. Teresa felt the first thick jet and moaned like she’d been waiting all day for it. He came in heavy spurts, pumping cum deep into her cunt while she squeezed his balls and rode every pulse, refusing to let him soften, refusing to lift off. Spurt after spurt, hot and messy, flooding her until she could feel it, until it seeped out around his shaft and mixed with her squirt and ran down onto his already soaked belly.

She kept riding through the aftershocks of her own sloppy orgasm, hips rolling, cunt fluttering and milking, dragging every last drop out of his pulsing cock. “That’s it,” she panted, voice gone hoarse and mean and pleased. “Every drop. Stay in me. Keep throbbing. My dirty boy, caught with his fist on his cock, and now he’s pumping my cunt full like he was made for it. Don’t you stop. Give me the rest. I can feel you still coming. Milk it out. Good. So fucking good.”

Andre groaned under her, hips jerking helplessly, emptying himself in thick pulses while she worked him, fist gentle-rough on his balls, inner walls clenching in rhythmic pulls that wrung him dry. Cum and squirt and sweat smeared between them. The porn moaned on, ignored. Teresa rode until his cock gave one last weak throb and he sagged, spent and shaking, and only then did she slow—but she didn’t climb off. She collapsed forward over his legs, still impaled, his softening cock lodged deep in her flooded cunt, both of them panting, skin slick with sweat, his belly and chest shining with her squirt, her thighs dripping his cum.

She turned her face just enough that he could hear the purr in her wrecked voice, filthy and satisfied, no softness in it at all. “God, it’s so much better when I catch you. Walking in on that stroked-out cock and then using you until you pump me full and I squirt all over your stomach—that’s what I came home for.”

She clenched around him one more time, feeling the hot leak of his cum squeeze out around his shaft and drip onto his balls, and laughed low. “Stay hard enough to keep it in, dirty boy—my cunt’s still drooling your load all over your stomach, and I’m not done sitting in it.”