Free Lust Call by Ray Gordon

never discover the shocking truth about his sluttish wife, so what was the problem? The problem was that I’d been fucked by Derek. Dave didn’t know about it, but the memory would always haunt me. I’d committed adultery and was now masturbating in front of my next-door neighbour. But I had no control over the power of my arousal, the yearning of my neglected cunt.
    My young body shaking uncontrollably, my breathing fast and shallow, my orgasm came with a gush of hot pussy milk. Shafting my contracting vagina with the plastic handle, massaging my pulsating clitoris, I sustained my beautiful climax as I imagined Barry wanking and shooting his spunk into the bushes. Again and again, waves of sexual bliss rolled throughout my quivering body as I gasped and writhed in the grip of my ecstasy. My clitoris pulsated wildly beneath my massaging fingertips, and I cried out beneath the summer sun as my orgasm peaked and shook me to the core.
    I felt as though I’d been possessed by an unseen sex entity as crude images of Barry’s knob spunking in my mouth loomed in my mind. Whimpering andwrithing in my sexual abandonment, I knew that I was behaving like this to shock Barry. But, why was I doing this? Why had my arousal soared to such frightening heights and forced me to use the fork handle as a dildo and behave like a common slut? I was an adult, I thought as I fucked myself with the plastic phallus. I was no longer a silly teenage girl who’d just discovered the delights of her femininity. I was a married woman.
    As my orgasm began to subside, I slowed my thrusting rhythm, fucking my inflamed cunt slowly as I recovered from my self-abuse. A blackbird fluttered above me as I looked up at the blue sky. Had he been watching me? My vaginal muscles gripping the fork handle, my clitoris inflating, I moved the fork faster in and out of my sex-hungry cunt. I needed to come again, I thought, wondering whether Barry was still there. The bushes rustled again, and I quickened my thrusting and fucked myself hard as I panted and writhed beneath the summer sun. Barry would never forget the lewd sight, I knew as the plastic handle massaged my G-spot and my milk of desire flowed. And I’d never be able to forget what I’d done in front of my next-door neighbour.
    My vaginal muscles spasming, my thighs twitching, I cried out in the grip of another massive climax. My cunt, I thought, my beautiful cunt. I’d never liked the word, but now it wouldn’t leave my dirty mind. I was fucking my tight little cunt with a plastic phallus, imagining another man’s cock spunking my hot cunt . . . ‘My cunt,’ I murmured, hoping that Barry could hear me as I sustained my heavenly orgasm. ‘God, my beautiful cunt.’ What did he think of me? The twee little housewife next door was a common slut.
    When my second orgasm finally waned, I slipped the pussy-wet fork handle out of my inflamed vaginaand sat upright. I could feel my face flushing as I came to my senses and stared at the fence. The bushes rustled, and I knew that Barry had witnessed my wanton act of masturbation. I’d accomplished my mission, and degraded myself totally in the process. As banging resumed in his kitchen, I leapt to my feet and dashed into the house. What the hell had I done, I thought anxiously as a stream of hot pussy milk flowed from the gaping entrance to my abused vagina and flowed down my inner thighs. Now two of my neighbours knew that I was a dirty slut.
    Flooded with guilt and embarrassment, I pulled my panties across to conceal my swollen pussy lips and then flattened my short skirt with my palms. How was I going to face Barry? The next time I saw him over the fence or in the street, I’d flush with shame. But, hopefully, the next email would prove beyond all doubt that he was the culprit.
    But what if he was the culprit? Then what would I do? Maybe I should have ignored the emails and . . . That’s what I’d