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The women in this story are outwardly proper and quite normal people. But within them a depth of passion they never dreamed existed lies coiled like a snake, waiting only for the proper stimulus to arouse it.
THEIR WIVES IN BONDAGE—a fictional story about a society that refuses to face many of its real problems.
“Let’s order a pizza!” Rita said.
“A pizza? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Sue took another long sip of straight bourbon and shook her silver-blonde head in disbelief.
“Fucking is exactly what I have in mind,” Rita replied with a lewd grin. “Have you seen the cute guy who drives the delivery truck?”
Edna snorted and said, “He’s only seventeen.” They were all in their thirties, bored suburban housewives gathered for their morning coffee klatch. Only coffee didn’t do it for them any more. Edna poured a stiff slug of brandy into hers.
“I know he’s young,” Rita said, “and you know how hot kids are. I’ll bet he can fuck all three of us before the pizza gets cold.”
“I’m for it, if he brings the giant-size, special deluxe!” Sue said with a giggle. She tipped her silver-blonde head and drained her glass. The sound of her laughter turned bitter. “I need something to fill me up!”
“Jesus Christ!” Edna said in a tone of rigid respectability. “This is the most disgusting conversation I ever heard.”
“Disgusting?” Rita mocked her friend’s stiff tone. “I’ll tell you what’s disgusting—three horny middle-aged bitches with nothing better to do than get sloshed on a Tuesday morning.”
“Yeah,” Sue agreed. She poured more bourbon from a bottle that was nearly dry. “And what’s even more disgusting . . . the pizza place doesn’t open until noon. Would one of you like to lick my clit for an hour and a half?”
“Oooh,” Edna groaned. “I can’t stand any more of this!”
“Then lie down,” Rita snapped, “and we’ll lick your clit until the kid comes. I mean CUMS!” Rita and Sue broke into peals of half-drunken laughter.
Edna huffed and hurried to gather her things. “I don’t know what’s happened with the two of you, but Bill and I are very happily married.”
Sue gave a snort and said, “Sure, you’re happily married . . . and I’m the Queen of Spain.”
In a cold, clear voice, Rita reminded her, “Just yesterday you sat there whining because your precious Bill has the hots for his secretary.”
“That bitch!” Edna said quickly. Her mask of propriety shattered and tears dotted the corners of her eyes. “She doesn’t have a brain in her head!”
“But I’ve heard she has plenty in her bra.” Sue drew a long breath, swelling her own large and shapely tits.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.