Chapter 1

Tiffany Wells pouted like a child as she stared at her gorgeous figure in the full-length mirror. Dark sensuous eyes studied the lush reflection of her naked body. Her large swollen tits jutted out proudly: two magnificent globes of creamy white flesh, capped by reddish-pink nipples.

"Mmmmmmm," she sighed dreamily. She caressed the smooth firmness of her tits with the tips of her fingers. The nipples seemed to swell even larger. "Ooooooo, Ryan," she purred, thinking of her husband. "Why aren't you home to fuck me?"

Her flashing dark eyes widened as she skimmed her trembling hands down over the lush contour of her exquisite body. Her eyes dropped, feasted on the trimmed patch of black pussy hair that adorned her cunt. "How long, Ryan?" she murmured, the passion in her eyes reflecting her neglect. "Too long," she answered as she rolled her hips lewdly. "Too fucking long."

Her hands skimmed up her body, fingers combing through her lustrous black hair. The action lifted her pulpy tits, aimed the nipples hotly at her quivering reflection. A shudder skittered through her frustrated body.

"Damn you, Ryan," she moaned. She stalked to the phone, tits bouncing, her round firm ass jiggling. Throwing herself on the bed, she dialed Ryan's office.

"Hello," Kate said. "Ryan Wells's office." Her voice had the soft purr of a contented kitten.

Tiffany hated her for it. She took a deep breath. Kate was ten years younger, pretty, blonde, a regular cheerleader type. It irked Tiffany every time she thought about the sexy blonde, and she hated Ryan for hiring her.

"Could I speak to my husband please?" she snapped.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Wells," Kate purred. "I'll put you right through."

Tiffany clutched the phone. Even though she was only twenty- eight, the way Kate said Mrs. always made her feel like a grandmother. She buried her anger, knew why the sexy blonde made her feel this way. It wasn't Tiffany's fault--it was Ryan's. Because of his constant neglect, there were even times she imagined Ryan fucking the hot little blonde. Today looked like it was going to be one of those days.

"Hi, baby," Ryan said, his smooth voice cutting into Tiffany's angry thoughts. "Anything the matter?"

"Nothing your cock couldn't solve," she moaned. "When are you coming home?"

Ryan groaned. "Late, baby. Business. It's piling up. We're going to be rich soon."

"I don't give a shit about rich, Ryan."

She spread her legs wide, took the receiver and put it between her legs. She squished her free hand through her wet steamy cunt.

Panting, she brought the phone back to her mouth. "Did you hear that?"

"I did," Ryan said. "What was it?"

"It was the juices in my pussy," she sighed.

"Christ, you remember, don't you? I've got black hair all around it. There's a red gash where you stick your cock. Remember?"

"Balls, Tiff. Don't you think I understand? I'm sitting here with a hard-on." He rubbed his crotch as if to confirm what he had said. "I can't help it if I'm too tired to fuck when I get home at night. Shit, I'm not a damn machine."

"A little less time at the office," she snapped, "and maybe you wouldn't be so tired."

"Then you wouldn't have all those new credit cards I got you," he said, growing impatient with his wife. "We'll have plenty of time for fucking once the money really starts to roll into the business. Be patient."

"Be patient... shit on you! I've been patient and what does it get me? Zilch. I'm lying here naked, creaming all over the fucking bed, and you've got the balls to tell me to be patient. Fuck you!" She was shaking, her knuckles white, her black eyes glowing.

"Go out and use the new credit cards. Buy something for yourself. It'll help you take your mind off your cunt." He was disgusted. He was busting his ass to be successful, and she didn't give a shit.

"Yeah... maybe I can buy me a guy to fill my cunt with his nice hard cockmeat."

"So who gives a shit!" Ryan shouted. He slammed the phone down.

Tears filled Tiffany's eyes. "I guess nobody does," she said to the dead phone. "So why should I?" She forced her tears back, a raging anger taking the place of hurt.

On her back, her legs stretched out in an erotic vee, Tiffany stared at the ceiling. Through her tears, the ceiling looked blurred, but the image of Ryan's handsome face came through to haunt her.

"You bastard," she mumbled as an image of Kate blended with Ryan's. "You bitch."