Language: English / Genre:home_sex, / Series: WIF

Sex clinic wife

Peter Ryan



Peter Ryan

Sex clinic wife

CHAPTER ONE

A low rumble rose in a quickening crescendo that ended abruptly with a thunderous crashes the wave hit the beach. The quieter whispering rush of sound as the waters receded across the rocks and sand exposed for a second the rasping noise of her zipper as he tugged it downward… and then another pounding wave drowned all other sounds in its suddenness…

Darlene Jefferson tossed restlessly in her bed, knowing she had to get up and fix breakfast, but not yet willing to give up her dream. She could hear Roger's electric shaver going in the bathroom and the sounds of early morning shuffling through the paper-thin walls of the apartment next door, but still she couldn't bring herself to leave… not now… not now… not yet.

She wanted to cry out, but his hands had touched her breasts just as softly and tenderly as the withdrawing surf that caressed the sand in its return to the sea. Her senses seemed to be so vibrantly alert – the crashing waves became an explosive roar in her ears, the ebbing waters seemed to be whispering soft encouragement to her and the warmth of his searching hands offered such comforting protection against the salty chill of the night air.

"Just lean back against me, Darlene, "she heard him say, and the intrusion of his words into her thoughts snapped her abruptly back to reality.

"No… NO!… Please," she moaned and tried to pull away from him. "Please, you can't… no, no, I don't want to… I can't…" Her voice trailed away as she tried to squirm away from his touch, the heat of his body as he pressed more firmly against her… and then she felt the cold air hit her back as he parted the silken top of her sundress and moved his hands inside past the zipper until they touched her skin like an electric shock.

He knew that her surrender was almost complete, that soon there would be no struggle, only desire left in her… but, he also knew that another premature word or move could destroy everything. And so there was only tenderness and gentle hesitancy in the way his fingers traced a soft trail across her back. He ached to reach forward – to reach farther around her until his searching hands could feel the firm swell of her breasts – he wanted to move his hands downward over the curve of her belly, past the elastic waistband, and feel the burning excitement at the first touch of silken curled hair at her naked loins – but still he waited…

"Honey?" Roger's booming baritone voice cut through Darlene's reverie from another world. "Baby, it's time to get up and put the coffee on, if I'm going to make that eight o'clock class!"

The nineteen-year-old blonde wife gasped a furtive sigh as she rolled over on her back and allowed her warm hazel eyes to flutter open in a ceiling-directed blank stare. In the adjoining bathroom, she heard the shaver's whir cease with a loud click, then the sound of the doorknob turning as her handsome twenty-four-year-old husband swept into the room to plant a brotherly kiss on her sleep-furrowed brow. "Something wrong, Darlene?" he queried concernedly. "You look like you lost your last friend."

"No, darling," she forced a pair of dimples. "Still a little sleepy, I guess."

Roger slapped her playfully on the thigh. "Better shake a leg," he smiled importantly. "Can't be late for the last day of the semester!"