It was such a great pleasure to slowly sink my cock into Linda’s tight ass
By: Date: 2024.02.02. Categories: Just Wife Stories Tags: , , , , , ,

After repairing grammatical and lexical and logical faults in the text
and e-mailing the file path to the proofreader, I pushed back in my
chair, and surveyed the print above my desk, a modern rendering of the
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, done in what I thought, approvingly, as
a “Frank Frazetta” style.

Linda, our web developer, paused in the doorway of my office cubicle (or
is that cubicle office?). “Hi, Jack, how was your weekend?”

“Ah, you know, just working on my translation project. . . ,” I gestured
inconclusively, as I swivelled round in my chair to face her.

Now Linda’s a plain but pretty (if that makes any sense), with animated
brown eyes, short wavy hair and a wide sensual mouth. She’s
slender-torso’d with medium-sized, round breasts that really commanded
my attention when she stood and sat up straight.

Linda’s well-educated, well-travelled, happily married, and in her late
twenties. She’s also witty, intelligent, and I’m almost twenty years
older than her, though my bad habits (smoking) and my good habits (lots
of veg and whole grains) and, I suppose, my father’s genes, have kept me
lean.

But the fact of the matter is that what most guys will notice about
Linda is her fabulously round, prominent ass. She doesn’t have
particularly wide hips; Linda’s a real bubble butt, I guess. Women built
like her must have inspired the bustle in the nineteenth century. A
little big-assed to be perfectly proportioned, but I acknowledge the
limitations of my own personal preferences/preoccupations. In any case,
whatever imperfections I assigned to her as an aesthete, I many a time
daydreamed about Linda and her luscious bottom when I should have been
fixing some one’s text. . .sliding the jeans she wore on Fridays down
her hips while raising her shirt to admire and stroke her slender
muscled back. . .resting my head on the top of the swell of her
cheeks, inhaling her scent, as I stroke and knead and heft and squeeze
those marvellous ass cheeks and slide a finger up and down between her
labia . .seated on a stool behind her as she kneels, ass proudly
outthrust, her arms on the back of a heavy upolstered armchair, amidst
much stroking, kissing and licking, I spread her firm, proud cheeks. I
spread them apart just a little, then carefully bathe the widened cleft
with my tongue, coming very close to the bottom of the valley, but not
quite. . .she squirms, moans appreciatively. . .she sighs and I spread
her warm cheeks a little more. . .now I can get in further so all along
that deep valley that I had opened I plant kisses, circling round her
anus until I cannot wait and begin slowly licking the closed portal of
her small dark opening. . .two sudden sudden gasps followed by a long,
low sigh. . .I release her cheeks and gently seize her wrists, which I
drag back and rest on their respective cheek. She understands and
separates then spreads her bottom cheeks for me. I am delighted and very
aroused—every sense is awash with her—I slowly slide two fingers
into her wet cunt, purposely fiddling around a lot to separate her inner
labia, and I guide them back and forth from her clitoris to her perinium
like flume riders. She tries to hump me—she’s panting now and it’s all
quite involuntary—but my other arm grasps her firmly around the thighs
and now I commence laving and drilling her asshole with an eager and
sinuous tongue. . .she cries out and goes rigid a few times as I give
myself up to enjoying her, then takes her hands away from her ass, grips
the back of the chair and sinks down on her heels. . .”Oh god, Jack. .
..” Flushed and with touseled hair, her slim curved belly pointing the
way to her mound of venus and womanly cleft.. .

On days like that I wondered if my boss noticed my vascillating
productivity. . .

But this was business–not to mention reality–and Linda wanted to know
if I’d corrected the HTML proofs she’d given me the day before. We
figured I’d get them to her by end of day and she turned to go and,
unaccountably, stumbled, catching one side of the doorframe for support,
her round ass cheeks tight against the fabric of her slacks.

“Nice slacks,” I thought; “perfect rapprochement between the tight,
constrained, positively erumpent revealingness of jeans and the softer
allure of wool.” (Now you may not have such thoughts, either in style or
substance, but this is me.)

Unaccountably, too, Linda turned back from the doorway and asked, “Jack,
how about a fashion opinion? You work around women all day. What do you
think of these slacks? I spent a lot of money on them, but I think they
make me look like. . .well. . .a fat-assed secretary.”

Well, Linda must have known they made her look very alluring indeed,
certainly for those gentlemen who are moved by callipyginous women. .
..indeed there was no comparing Linda to the numerous bona fide
fass-assed secretaries that work in my building. . .she was a hot babe;
they were triangular blobs. . .

I blurted out, rather uncharacteristically, “Linda, I’m not sure what
expensive means these days in women’s clothing. . .but I’d classify
those slacks as classily casual or, if you prefer, casually
classic—plus they look better on you than any of your others. Except,
of course, your jeans. . .”

Linda smiled. “You mean my ‘Friday jeans’?”

“Well,” I expanded, “they’re the only jeans of yours I’ve seen.”

She smiled again and caught my eyes, quite deliberately, I thought. “I’d
better get back to all that stuff for coding that you’ve accumulated.”

“See you later,” and I turned to the next revision job.

The day went by pretty routinely, and though I certainly thought about
parting those luscious cheeks and licking and kissing and eventually
fucking what I found there, it was no more than usual. . .

As I exited the building just after five that afternoon, pulling out my
tabac with one hand as I pushed open the door with the other, who but
Linda appears and greets me. She had to have been waiting. Odd. She
usually comes in later and works later than I do, and I hadn’t even
noticed her leave the office. The wind has tousled her hair a bit and
flushed her cheeks. She radiated female energy in a way that she
didn’t—or that I hadn’t noticed—in the office.

“Jack, I know you’ve got your evening job now, but could you spare an
hour of your time now; I’ll give you a ride home.”

I hammed it up a bit, adopting a mock-disgruntled tone. “Well, you want
to deprive me of work time and of half my daily constitutional. That’s
okay, though I hope it’s at least a little important.”

“It is for sure,” she replied, smiling, but with obvious sincerity.

“OK. Where are you parked?” Her and her husband’s Mazda sports car was
parked at the curb, motor turned off and flashers on. It was only a
twenty minute walk to my place—the mostly empty ground floor of an old
house in a quiet residential neighbourhood—so we were there, stop
lights and all, in about seven minutes. I ushered her ahead of me,
noting her ass jutting slightly beneath the tailored full-length winter
coat. Once inside, amidst the books and dust and stale tobbaco smell and
scattered audio components of my flat, I took her coat, hung it and mine
on the pegs beside the door. The side door opens into the kitchen, so I
invited her to a chair at the kitchen table.”

“I usually have a coffee after getting home from the office and before
starting translation. Care for a cup? Or a tea or sweete apple cider or
water?”

Linda accepted camomile tea, and after what to me was an uneasy ten
minutes of small talk about the weather, the snowshoeing weekend she’d
been on with her husband and how I should try it, my “second job” as my
colleagues called it, I joined her at the table with my double long
espresso and her tea. I extracted my cigarettes from my pocket, found a
Bic on the kitchen table, and asked Linda to pass it to me. Instead of
giving it to me, she gave me a light. A sip of the thick bitter aromatic
brew, and as I paused to take a long drag on the fag, Linda sat up
straight all of a sudden, highlighting her slender waist above the swell
of her hips, showing me the faint outlines of her nipples pressed
against her light sweater, and said,

“Jack, do really think these slacks. . .umm . .show off my figure to
best advantage?” She pushed her chair back, stood up, walked around the
room slowly, and stopped in front of me with her hands on her hips. Then
she slowly swivelled and stopped. I contemplated how the fabric molded
itself to her ass, yet without the tight constraint of denim. . .

“Look, the slacks are well cut and of good material, so they’re classy
enough for a high level meeting. And they fit you perfectly without
looking tight, like jeans would. At the same time, they’re. . .well,
they’re most sexually alluring. . .they show off to best advantage a
glorious derriere.”

She flushed, but didn’t seem taken aback. Still, she appeared serious.
“Jack, you’re the wordsmith around the office. Murray is supposed to be;
he’s the writer, but we know you are. Any way, words are easy for you.
How do I know that’s what you really think?”

I stood up and walked around her. “Do you want me to prove to you that
was a totally sincere opinion?” I said over her shoulder, almost
whispering into her ear.

This time her voice was a bit unsteady. “I. . .I could . .could do with
some more convincing.”

I ran my hands lightly from her shoulders, down her back, to her hips,
then round the front, over her thighs, then down her lower back where
her slender waist merged with her hips and down over her firm-and-soft
buttocks which I greedily palmed and gently squeezed and moved back and
forth. I continued speaking very quietly into her ear.

“This is the homage I wish to pay to your excellent choice in office
wear, and more particularly, to the lovely arse that renders the
tailor’s art so impressive. At that point, I leaned forward another few
inches and began kissing Linda where the neck meets the shoulder, then
higher up, all the while palming stroking her elegantly clad ass
cheeks. She smiled back at me and said in a low rather throaty voice,
“That’s certainly earnest, Jack, but it still could be. . .acting . . .”

By then I was resting my chin lightly on her shoulder, left hand slowly
stroking her belly beneath the waist band of the slacks, right hand
continuing to play with her resilient globes. She abandoned all pretence
now and began sighing and wriggling in what I found a very fetching
manner.

“Indeed, the slacks have received enough accolades, Linda.” It took
only a moment to unbutton, unzip and slide the slacks down her smooth
hips. She lifted one foot then another, I tossed the slacks over the
back of a chair and began kissing her waist while stroking her belly and
thighs and again back to her ass.

“You’ve a gorgeous south end, my dear, and since you’ve forced the
issue, I intend to convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am
utterly sincere.”

With that, I stepped back, held out my hand, and said, “Please step down
milady.”

Linda tossed her head of curls, stepped lightly off the chair and took
my hand. I led her to the low futon in my bedroom, stood her by the bed,
and piled three big pillows near the long edge. Then I took her hand
again, as if I were handing a duchess into a carriage, and led her right
up to the pillows.

“Bend over and rest comfortably on the pillows.” With bright eyes, an
incendiary smile and no words, she did just that, the piled cushions
raising her delicious ass and thick pussy lips almost to eye level as I
sat behind her on a low footstool. I began kissing behind her knees and
worked my way up to her thighs and their shadowy meeting place. Her
quick gasps and long sighs and the suppressed squirming of her hips
urged me on.

Then I moved back. A few quick taps on the inside of each knee and Linda
moved them apart to give me a lovely, luscious, lubricious view. But I
kissed my way up her lithe back and only stroked and cupped and lifted
and spread apart her lush cheeks. Until I was leaning over her my chest
lightly pressing on her back, my stiff cock clenched between those warm,
resilient hemispheres, nipping her neck and licking her ears.

“You are truly Linda Callipygia,” I spoke into her ear as I licked it.
“I hope that now you believe me.”

Linda arched her ass up at me, and pushed me more firmly between her
cheeks. She turned her head and we shared an spine-tingling kiss before
I slid down and with hardly more than a few long, slow strokes up her
silky smooth inner thighs, trailing off across the lips of her vagina, I
began licking her slit from top to bottom, both hands luxuriating in the
fell of her firm ass cheeks. She was wet and getting wetter and soon my
tongue slipped in between her inner lips. Spreading them just a little
with my fingers, I sought out her most sensitive spots and rhythms. I
had to grip her thighs very firmly to keep her from thrashing about.

Then I began stroking up and down between her ass cheeks, going deeper
and deeper and with a finger lubricated from her wet pussy I began
circling her dark anus. I circled her clit, dipped deep in between her
lips and circled her bottom hole. . .over and over again.

“. . .Oh god, Larry, that’s amazing. . . ,” then silence, sighs, gasps
and moans. Finally I slid two fingers between the slick lips and down
into her passage, spread her ass cheeks a little more with the other
hand and began licking her anus. Linda gasped and started slowly humping
my fingers. I licked deeper into her ass, then out again. When I
started circling her clit again with one finger, she cried out and went
rigid and trembling. I slid a middle finger into her ass and with the
other hand held her tightly around the waist until her rigid muscles
relaxed.

“There,” I said, kissing her cheek and neck and back, releasing Linda
and standing up behind her. “You have most glorious and lovely and
desirable ass imaginable. I hope you finally believe me.”

Linda, too, stood up. I encircled her with my arms just under her
breasts and pressed my wet, rigid cock against the top of her ass. I
kissed her neck again and let one hand slide slowly over her belly and
thighs and back to her juicy cunt. Linda disengaged herself from my
clasp, turned round and pasted herself against me. Her firm smooth belly
was against my heated member and she kissed my neck and face many times
before clasping me tightly and speaking close to my ear, “I’m almost
convinced, Larry. But if you could just summarize it all briefly for me,
it would be easier to understand.”

This time I guided Linda to the middle of the bed with one pillow under
her back and two under her ass. Then I had her raise her knees to her
breasts and set to finger fucking her ass and licking her cunt.

“Stop, Larry. Fuck me now.”

I pulled one pillow away and a moment later was clasping her tightly,
feeling her sweaty breasts and hard nipples rubbing against my chest,
and slowly buried my aching cock as deep as it would go. She wrapped her
legs tightly around me and spurred me on with her heels. I braced the
side of my head against the bed. She turned her head and kissed me
fiercely, while I thrust in and out and spread and pressed together her
lovely ass cheeks. Every so often I’d bury myself fully and grip her ass
tightly with both hands, while she ground herself against me with
continuous cries of pleasure.

But before long we were rutting, rushing toward our release. I don’t
know if I bellowed like a bull, wailed like a banshee or cried out like
Tarzan or what when I came. I felt like I was turning inside out. Linda
spurred me on with the most wanton sighs, cries and gasps imaginable.
She kept her ankles locked around the small of my back and drove her
wide-open cunt up against me with every stroke. I’d grip her asscheeks
powerfully and pull her more tightly against me and she’d grind and gasp
and groan. I’d like to say–or do I care?–that I rogered the lovely
wench for a solid quarter of an hour before giving up the ghost. But it
was only a few minutes. Then I was pounding into Linda quite out of
control as we clasped each other for dear life.

When I came to, Linda was humping up against me and swivelling her
bottom, making sounds both gutteral and high pitched. She saw my eyes
open, stopped wriggling, smiled, and pulled me down on top of her,
wilting cock and all.

“Far be it from me to suggest either of us move an inch at this moment,
but do you want to shower before you go home?”

Linda fixed me with a mock-baleful stare and kissed me with moderate
force. I was confused.

“Nathan’s in Miami on business. He’ll be back tomorrow evening or
Wednesday morning. I would enjoy a shower–with you–but I’m not going
home now. I’m not finished with you yet.” Then she flashed a single
wanton glance, added, “C’mon, let’s get clean!” and skipped off to the
bathroom. Ah! That luscious heart-shaped ass!

We soaped each other, of course, in the shower, each washing every inch
of the other’s body. She no more forwent the opportunity to gently tug
my scrotum and stroke my limp dick than I refrained from rubbing and
stroking her lovely pussy and ass. Just then, however, nothing was
getting me hard. Remember, we’re talking about a largely sedentary,
chain-smoking office worker who’ll never see 45 again. Not a wreck yet,
by any means, but, hell, Linda was almost 20 years younger than me and
favoured kyaking and rock-climbing!

Nevertheless, I can’t remember taking a more pleasurable shower. But all
good things come to an end. I had kissed my way down Linda’s back to her
waist, knelt down under the slowly cooling spray and spread her cheeks,
intending to search there, with my tongue, for that soap film they talk
about in dishsoap adverts. But Linda turned around, looked at me with
her expressive brown eyes, grinned and said, “Patience! Let’s dry off;
then you can offer the final, convincing argument that your favourable
comments about my off-the-rack slacks are beyond a doubt genuine and
sincere.”

“I can?”

“Sure. Just do what comes naturally, Larry. You’ve been fabulous so far.
Do what you really want to do. What you’ve started to do, but haven’t
finished. It’s what I want you to do, too. Your tongue and fingers,
again, like before, and then your cock.”

Linda lay down with her ass at the edge of the bed. I smiled, gently but
firmly grasped each ankle and slowly, almost ceremoniously, walked them
up to where she could take over, to free my hands for more important
tasks. Linda was now spread before me: smiling face, small
breast-hillocks, big brown nipples standing up, her flat tummy and small
waist flaring out to her womanly hips. Her cunt and asshole were
delightfully, deliciously accessible. It was an unrestrained offering of
sexual pleasure. I was both deeply moved and, once again, indescribably
horny.

“Kiss and lick and feel and finger me everywhere, Larry. But before I go
home I want that lovely cock in my bottom. I want you to hold me and
kiss me with your cock moving deep inside my ass. And I don’t think we
need to be worried about STDs. So when you can’t or don’t want to hold
off any longer, I want you to hold me very tightly when you come in my
ass. Then I’ll believe you.”

So I compliantly and with mounting enthusiasm proceeded to unfold the
Final Argument, as we later called it. I spent a while kissing her
stomach while rubbing and squeezing her ass cheeks and venturing
occasionally across the hillock of her mound or her pussy lips. Then I
confused her for a moment as I slid back up, rubbing my stiffening cock
against her belly and kissing her long and slowly, all the while
luxuriating in the feel of her resilient globes.

Linda was getting breathy and throaty now. Puts the melodramatic “storms
of sighs” in a different perspective. My errant and irregular forays
across her labia showed she was very wet. I got her to put her feet on
the edge of the bed, stroked her smooth stomach a few times, and began
licking her bare vulva first like a dog, with the flat of my tongue,
then more like a cat, getting the tip in between first the outer then
the inner lips; then cheating with my finger tips as I journied due
north up the divide, flying over and landing for an instant, the sliding
back.

I released my grip on her ass checks and let her hump freely, but it was
only by sliding two fingers in her cunt could I anchor my hand enough to
keep stroking her clitoris. Then she stopped, almost shivering, pulled
her thighs up and apart. “Rim me and sodomize me, Larry. Now. I want you
to. I found the Vaseline already. It’s in the drawer of the bedside
table. Give it to me, darling.”

I leaned over, got the jar out of the drawer, and handed it to her. With
a smile she sat up, no-handed, straight from the waist and I delighted
in how her muscles moved beneath her curves.

“Come here.” I stood before as she sat upright on the edge of the bed.
In a trice she was applying the cool gel all the way down the shaft of
my cock, paying particular attention to the head and neck. Then she lay
back again as I began licking her small anus, while holding her cheeks
just far enough apart. Soon I moved my right hand up to circle her
clitoris with my index finger and soon after that she clenched her
strong thighs tightly around my head as she shuddered and stiffened and
cried out.

“God! Now, Larry!”

It was such a great pleasure to slowly sink my cock into Linda’s tight
ass, then pressing at last against those delightful cheeks. But it was
slow, three mm forward and two back, all the way. And when my loins
were pressed firmly against her body, she began stroking herself and for
a few minutes I kissed her face and neck and breasts and made the
tiniest motions in her bottom. Her eyes were closed most of the time,
but the long lashes would flutter up from time to time, or she would.
Slowly she loosened and began pushing back, her finger rubbing and
circling all the time.

I slowly began to withdraw and sink, ease out and slide in, my scrotum
contracted so tightly around my balls that I felt the pressure radiating
all the way down to my thighs. Around the head and neck of my cock the
sensations were rapidly becoming overwhelming as I buried my face in her
shoulder, biting her neck and ear, inahaling her sweet sweaty fragrance,
feeling her round, resilient asscheeks press back at me. Linda was
making bigger circles now and I had to grip her firmly around the
stomach to keep her from getting away. Soon I replaced her finger
circling her clitoris and she got both arms firmly on the bed and began
to ardently thrust back, inflaming me with deep slow groans and high
quick gasps.

And then, just as she had said she wanted, it all caming rushing at me,
up from me, and I gripped her chest and belly tight as I spurted almost
painfully deep into her ass, again and again, she pushing back and me
humping now with short, spasmodic jerks, crying out in the immersion.

I lay now pressed full length against her buttom and back, nuzzling her
ears and neck, cupping and stroking her sweaty breasts, but keeping most
of my weight on my forearms. Every now and then Linda would clench her
sphincter around my slowly softening cock, until it slipped out and she
twisted around and sat up to give me a hug and, of all things, a kiss on
the forehead.

Then she stood up, slid around me, and headed back to the shower, she
smiled in that funny half-trimphant, half-conspiriatoral way that she
did sometimes in the office, when I couldn’t answer one of the riddles
she was always pulling off Web sites. “Now I believe you, Larry.”

I sat down, still naked, sipped my cold coffee, lit a State Express 555,
said something stupid to the wall or the air or the fridge like, “Who
could have imagined?” and waited for Linda to come out.

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