Gina Miller's cunt was throbbing. "Oh… Ron," she whispered softly as she spread her long, shapely legs. "Why couldn't you come home?"
As a trucker's wife, she knew there would be nights like this – nights of longing, hunger. Lately, however, Ron seemed to be on the road all the time.
It had been four days since that big, hard cock had stabbed inside her pussy and filled her with his warm cum.
Gina gave another moan and slipped her fingers across the creamy texture of her thigh to the peach-colored mass of hair that haloed her oozing, burning cunt. Slowly she played at the tight opening, exploding the sensitive membranes. When her middle finger came in contact with her pulsating clit, she flinched. Carefully she pulled back the loose folds of skin to fully reveal the tiny nub and ran her fingertip over the satiny surface. Immediately spasms of raw anguish swept around her cunt and melted toward the base of her spine.
"Oh… God," she grunted, half-sitting.
She increased the pressure of her finger, then slipped it deeply inside. As her throbbing muscles sucked around her finger, she squeezed her knees together. The pleasure was intensified, yet more agonizing. Her finger could never compare to that big slab of cock Ron had. Ten inches of rock-hard meat, almost as big around as her wrist.
She closed her eyes and could see that glorious prick, the purplish veins, the rubbery foreskin that half-covered the gigantic cock head, and the blue-black hairs that swept around his nuts like a dark flame.
"Fuck me," she gasped, withdrawing her finger. She scraped her nail over her clit, then jabbed back inside. "Oh yes," she panted, licking her lower lip with the tip of her pink tongue, "stick it all the way in and… and screw me full of hot, milky cum."
Her body convulsed suddenly, causing her head to jerk to one side. As her orgasm peaked, she rolled to her side, then lay on her hand. She began humping wildly up and down, flexing and unflexing her cunt muscles, drawing her finger in and out of her bubbly hole. And even when the ecstasy swelled her insides, she knew she would be left empty, probably worse off than before. This was the horrible part. She would lie in bed, drained, craving cock until she finally collapsed in a fitful sleep.
A few moments later, she rolled back over and looked up at the ceiling, a pained expression on her face. She tried to empty her mind of all thoughts, but it was useless. Every shape in the room seemed to remind her of her husband's fantastic prick. She shot a glance at the dresser, her eyes searching out something – anything that would relieve the desperate itch she was feeling. Quickly she lunged off the bed and grabbed her hairbrush.