Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Group Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Squirting, Voyeurism, Double Penetration, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Neglected! What is a poor housewife to do? This one discovers the perfect solution to husband's indifference is to take advantage of every male guest to knock on her door.
Harriet Honeybottom was one of those housewives that loved to fantasize in lurid daydreams about every male that came to her parlor door with ordinary things like milk, mail or demonstrations of fabulous new carpet cleaners. She would strip them all naked in her mind and imagine them bending her over the top of her plastic covered sofa and entering her from the rear with unquenchable desire. Sometimes her daydreams were so vivid and real that she would shudder into a satisfying orgasm standing on her ugly flat heels right in front of her unsuspecting visitors.
In all honesty, Harriet was not a beauty in any sense of the word, but she was unusually clean and well-mannered and had what could only be described quite crudely as a tight schoolgirl’s pussy. That was due to the fact she was unable to have offspring, much to her disappointment, and her husband’s preferred use of her nether regions for his manly satisfaction in a nocturnal setting. Her bum was much more accustomed to his drunken sessions that included the most degrading of unnatural acts and his constant joy at giving her “proper training” with his wide leather belt. After years of such treatment, poor Harriet was swift to get on her stomach to avoid confrontation in the sanctity of her own boudoir.
Despite all of his faults, she still retained a respectful wifely attitude toward her middle-aged husband and continued to make the very best roast possible each Sunday afternoon.
He was an excellent provider and she did her level best to arouse his manhood employing the use of various costumes ranging from nurse’s uniforms and French maid outfits with the skimpiest of thongs that were buried so deep in her crack that she looked totally nude below the waist when viewed from behind. Unfortunately, her spouse was unable to deliver the goods in the most advantageous of horizontal positions on top of the marital bed. He pleaded the excuse that his work drained his energy and made him unable to perform his expected husbandly duties with any degree of enthusiasm. The fact of the matter was that his newly hired secretary, Miss Honeypot Henderson, dropped her knickers on command behind the closed office door and seldom objected when he buried his long hard schlong between her cheeks. In fact, she was talented enough to take dictation whilst he pounded away on her heart-shaped bottom with gleeful abandon like a runaway puppy finding his true love.
His penchant for spanking plump curves often left the poor girl with a red bottom under her designer skirts almost on a daily basis.
The twenty year old Miss Honeypot had an understanding boyfriend that kissed her sore bottom with gentlemanly adoration. She described to him in great detail the humiliation heaped on her by her demanding boss, knowing that it would arouse and enflame him to immediate coupling action, giving her exactly what she needed for full satisfaction.
Meanwhile, the increasingly desperate Harriet, the unhappy housewife, made do with her fantasies and the covert use of a battery-operated wand she kept hidden under her mattress.
Early one Monday morning, well after her husband had departed for his exhausting day at the office, Harriet answered the knock on the door wondering who it could be so early in the day.
The young postman in his short pants uniform and official postal cap stood there with a tantalizing bulge in his crotch accentuated by the shorts that were at least one size too small. She saw that the package was an order that she had called in for immediate delivery and that there was a small amount due in postage because of a miscalculation on the weight of the item.
She turned to go up the stairs realizing far too late that the young man could probably look up under her short house dress and see that she was not wearing any undies at all. She hoped her reddish bush was not visible to the poor man because it would be all to mortifying to imagine the consequences. The jokes he would make to his mates about the almost forty housewife with the glorious red bush made her blush in consternation at the imagined humiliation with untold strangers.
Harriet paused at the top of the stairs and made a point to bend over to gather her purse from the bottom shelf with her back to the bottom of the stairs. She could see out of the corner of the eye that the bulge in the young man’s trousers was noticeably larger and growing by the second. Strangely, that made her exceedingly damp in her female parts and she knew instinctively that all she had to do was give the young lad a little encouragement and he would be on her before she could have a chance to protest his action.
Slowly, Harriet counted out the exact amount due and she bent over to sign his book as he instructed her with a measured deep voice. Suddenly, his pole came in contact with the soft flesh of her thigh and she looked up at him with a smile on her face that was all the invitation he needed to lower his trousers and keep her in the bent over position hanging onto the stairway railing. She lifted one leg up to the first step and uttered only a single shuddering shout as he slid into her already lubricated slit with the enthusiasm of youthful vitality.
Poor Harriet’s cheeks were quickly reddened by the slapping of his muscular legs against her sensitive skin. The stretching of her opening was a glorious reversal of her normal sex-deprived way of life. She knew she was grunting like some crazed animal and must have looked totally unladylike in that submissive position but she had no reluctance to continue and even pushed back into the lad’s groin hoping he might be able to do her a little bit deeper. It was a slutty tactic and she instantly regretted it because it made the boy rougher than before and he punished her bottom with his long, stiff shaft and slapped her cheeks with both palms to make her yelp like a schoolgirl being punished for lack of discipline. It was altogether satisfying to her sex-starved self-image and she was eternally grateful for the postman’s special delivery.
After the mailman left on his appointed rounds, Harriet took a long hot shower allowing the spray to work magic on her recently stretched pussy and sooth her almost forty year old body. She remembered with great clarity the postman’s shout of triumph as he flooded her neglected vagina.
“You’re so tight, Mrs. Just like a schoolgirl’s pretty little cunt.”
She basked in the compliment secure in the knowledge that he was speaking the truth in the moment of truth. It was something her husband had never said to her. Of course, he was far more interested in her puckered entryway than in her red bush covered opening ready for the taking.
Later that same day, she ordered more materials from the same company and specified that it be sent “Special Delivery” for her signature. She hoped it would be the same mailman but would be willing to accommodate any substitute.
It was that incident that set Harriet on the way of greeting all male visitors to her parlor with the deviousness of a spider sitting comfortably in a web of innuendo and hints of encouragement to entice her male guests into compromising positions of the illicit kind.
Her next conquest was a pair of male missionaries with idealistic themes of world peace. They were so much alike that she was convinced they were either twins or close siblings. She joined with them in prayer kneeling in front of them like a dutiful follower of their simplistic ideas. It was only a short move to freeing their appendages for her oral supplications that inspired them both to greater efforts in cleaving for the cause of a “happy ending”. It was the first time she had been doubled up on like the cream inside a package of male penetration spitting her like a roast at both ends.
Harriet was not certain which boy finished first but she knew she was flooded on both sides and that both the boys had huge smiles on their faces at their successful efforts to chase the devil from her sinning body. She assured them that they had done a very good deed in redeeming her innocence and that she would be happy to receive their benediction of seeds at any time they felt the urge to give her a new lesson in religious matters.
The following Sunday, her husband informed her that he had invited his new assistant for one of her famous roast dinners and she spent the entire morning cooking up a storm.
The assistant was recently graduated from the University and still had the bloom of academic excellence stamped like a badge of courage in the middle of his forehead. Harriet’s husband seemed a bit bored with the entire affair and denigrated her gravy telling her,
“Too much flour in the gravy, love!”
Harriet was a bit distraught at the criticism because she knew her gravy was considered far above average by one and all. The young man, whose Christian name was Donald looked at her with pity because he was too far down the ladder of success to make any comment in opposition to his bosses statements.
After dinner, her husband went upstairs for a “lie-down” and she was left alone on the sofa with young Donald. She filled his wine glass a second time and licked the rim of her glass with her pointed tongue like she was making a suggestion the young man would find difficult to refuse.
Donald was “on point” like a hound dog with one objective in mind. He hoped that his boss was asleep upstairs and it was the reassuring sound of the deep snores from the bedroom that induced him to insert his inquisitive university trained palm under Harriet’s short skirt to check out the lay of the land.
Harriet smiled nicely up at the young lad and relaxed back against the soft cushions.
She spread her knees in obvious invitation and sipped her wine with joyful pleasure. Soon, young Donald was knuckle deep in female parts and her reddish blond bush was damp with her juices. The fact that he inserted his other digit up her well-used bum was more of a treat than she wanted him to know and she lifted her ruby red lips up for his taking. He ravaged her mouth like a budding rapist on the prowl and she loved every minute of it. Her husband had never taken such liberties, not even on their short honeymoon, and she reveled in the degree of submission required to show the young man her spirit of cooperation.
Eventually, he had her skirt up around her hips and he began to introduce his happy shaft to her reddish bush to show her his intended purpose. Harriet listened intently and was satisfied with the steady rise and fall of her husband’s snores.
Donald entered her gently unlike his assault on her lips and she did her best to loosen up her tight vaginal opening for his full insertion. It seemed like he had more than enough length to fill her completely even touching bottom with more shaft to spare. She wiggled and shifted like a crazed slut from the street corner to get him all inside and managed to achieve that success just before he shouted out a bunch of gibberish and flooded her privates with his youthful juices. It was altogether pleasant for her and she soon fell into one of those familiar orgasms that punctuated her nocturnal adventures with her battery-operated device.
They quickly disengaged and she rose to clean the table as the sound of her husband descending the stairs was all too obvious.
“Did you make any dessert, dear? My sweet tooth needs something nice to top off the roast.”
He didn’t understand why his wife broke out in giggles and his newly hired assistant suddenly found the nearby magazine far too interesting to ignore any longer.