Well it was going to happen

Linda could only play the dizzy housewife for so long before her body betrayed her.

Her cunt was swollen, lips slick, nipples permanently stiff and poking. Every time she swanned past Marcus naked, pretending she was “just a little careless,” she caught his eyes following her, heat simmering beneath that calm exterior.

She wanted him to snap. Needed him to.

So she took matters into her own hands.

That evening, she set the dinner table in nothing but stockings and a lacy bra that barely held her tits and tonight she didn’t even bother with a skirt. Just the chair back biting into her bare arse as she poured gravy and smiled like it was perfectly normal.

Marcus ate silently at first, jaw tight. Linda giggled, licking a drip of wine from her lip. She leaned forward to top up his glass, tits spilling free from the lace. Her nipple brushed his knuckles.

He froze.

“Oh, silly me,” she said sweetly. “This old bra never does stay in place…”

Her hand slid under the table, onto his thigh. She crept higher, higher, until she felt the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his jeans. She squeezed, delighted when he groaned low in his chest.

“That’s better,” she whispered, eyes sparkling. “No need to be shy with me, darling. You’ve no idea how long I’ve been gagging for this.”

He moved fast, the chair scraping back, hauling her onto his lap. Her bra snapped open with one tug, tits spilling, nipples brushing his chest. She squealed, giddy and wet, grinding down on the bulge in his jeans.

“Oh God, yes, yes! Been teasing myself raw for you,” she gasped, rubbing herself against him like a bitch in heat.

He unzipped, freed his cock, and she nearly cried at the sight of it. Big, fat, pulsing, the same beast she’d ogled days before. Without a word, she lifted herself and dropped down onto him, cunt swallowing him whole in one **** plunge.

The scream that tore from her throat was obscene.

“Fuck! Oh, Christ, Marcus, its too big!”

He gripped her hips and drove up into her, thick shaft pounding deep, each thrust jolting her tits and sending wet slaps echoing around the kitchen. Linda rode him hard, hair flying, juices spilling down his cock, moaning like she’d lost her mind.

It was crude, filthy, perfect. Her arse bounced against his thighs, his cock battered her cervix, and she begged for more, more, more.

When he came, she felt the hot rush flood her, spurting deep, and she came with him, clawing his shoulders, sobbing with relief.

They collapsed together, sweaty and laughing. Linda kissed his jaw, tasting salt, and whispered, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

From then on, she made a game of it.

One morning she greeted him in a sheer blouse, no bra, nipples pressing like thumbtacks through the fabric as she bent to butter his toast. Another day, she wore stockings and suspenders beneath a summer dress, flashing the tops of her thighs as she dusted shelves.

And when the mood struck, she’d drop to her knees mid-sentence, unzip him, and take his cock into her mouth without another word. She loved it, the weight on her tongue, the way his thighs tensed as she sucked him deep, sloppy and eager until he filled her throat with hot cum.

Linda rewarded him constantly, her body his playground, her mouth his relief, her cunt always ready. She never tired of it. In fact, the more she gave, the more she craved.

All too soon, the exchange visit ended. The day he left, she kissed him at the door, tits pressed against his chest, hand stroking his cock one last time through his jeans.

“You’ve been such a good lodger,” she purred. “And I do so love rewarding good boys. So… I’ll make you a promise.”

Her lips brushed his ear, hot and wicked.

“Every week, without fail, I’ll send you a naughty little picture. Just for you. A proper nudie. Something to keep you hard till I see you again.”

She winked, adjusted her dress, pointless really, since her tits had been spilling out all morning and waved him off like a doting hostess.

When the door closed, she giggled, legs still trembling, cunt still sore from the week of endless use.

Linda loved her husband. She loved her life. But God help her, she thrived on being silly, careless, filthy.