Welcome to Brandi Love

Amateur Wives having uninhibited sex ... the perfect combination! There is nothing quite as primal as the average wife next door.... with her pussy full of cock... her legs pinned back... fucking and sucking for all she's worth! The view.. the sounds.. the primal lust... This is ecstasy .. this is fun... and this is how our sex lives should be! Fun and Wild!

 

In this amateur hardcore video entitled: Santas Little Whore, I play Santa's Little Whore.. and I like it! If you enjoy amateur hardcore videos, blowjobs, fucking and fun sex I think you'll enjoy this latest amateur hardcore video addition!

 

To keep those fantasies as well as libidos growing your resident, naughty wife has included a hot story to accompany this video entitled, Santas Little Whore!

 

Naughty Wife Story For The Video: Santas Little Whore

 

The incessant ringing of his Blackberry pulled Dan from a restless slumber. Eyes still closed, warding off the bright light that filtered through the shades, he clumsily felt around the bedside table until his fingers closed around the device.

 

What? he managed to grumble, his mouth parched from last night's Christmas celebration.

 

Dude, are you up? I've been trying to call you for ten minutes. Steve.

 

What . . . what are you talking about? He had to swallow hard, his throat was so dry.

 

I'll be there in ten minutes, maybe fifteen.

 

Dan's eyes eased open and he rolled to his side, the phone still at his ear.

 

I . . . uh. His eyes danced about the room. What are uh . . . what are you talking about? He coughed to clear his throat.

 

What!?! What the fuck is your problem? We're supposed to go Christmas shopping today.

 

Yeah, Dan acknowledged sheepishly after a moment, his voice hoarse. I may have forgotten.

 

Oh, come on, man! I need your help. You said you'd help me find something for Karen.

 

I know, I know. I'll be ready when you get here.

 

Dan hit the 'end' button and took a moment to look around the room. He stretched his body across the disheveled bed and sighed.

 

What the fuck happened . . . he began before his eyes fell upon the Santa cap that lay, crumbled in a ball, in front of his closet door. In the background, his ears pricked as the shower was turned off.

 

In a moment, the events of the night before flooded back into his memory. He collapsed to his back, stretching.

 

God, how I love Christmas parties, he muttered to himself with a satisfied smile

 

Dan kicked a bit of slush from his shoes and pulled the lobby door open. A gust of warm, dry air rushed past him as he stepped into the building and began climbing the stairs. The muffled sounds of music and commingled conversations bounded off the walls of the stairwell, growing stronger as he ascended.

 

He reached the third floor and took the twenty or so steps to the door to Steve's apartment. He knocked once and, without waiting for an answer, turned the knob and pushed the door open. The music and the voices became clear and assaulted his tender-from-the-cold ears. Dan stepped into the kitchen to find nine or ten people surrounding the island.

 

Dan! one of them announced upon seeing him enter.

 

What's goin' on, Jerry? He grabbed his friend's hand and pulled him into a hug. Been a long time, my friend.

 

Dan greeted the rest of the guests huddled in the kitchen for this, Steve's third annual Christmas party, then excused himself to get a drink. On the way to the dining room, where Steve had set up the bar, he waved to another group of partygoers in the living room.

 

Hey, Mr. Sheridan! He paused briefly to shake the hand of one of his parents' friends. Lemme get a drink and I'll come back and catch up with you.

 

Dan continued to the dining room and stepped up to the bar beside Mr. and Mrs. Moore. Fancy seein' you guys here, he said from the corner of his mouth.

 

Scott Moore turned toward the voice and a broad smile creased his distinguished features. He grabbed Dan's hand and pumped it twice. Well, you don't say. How you been, kid?

 

Pretty good, pretty good, he responded, turning to Marianne Moore and extending his hand. It's great to see you, Mrs. Moore.

 

You, too, Dan, she said, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek.

 

So, where're your parents? the older man asked.

 

New York for the weekend. Christmas shopping, I think, Dan responded, reaching for a tumbler.

 

Mr. Moore took the drink from his wife and poured some of the fluid down his throat. Well, we're all out in the living room. Dick and Susie Sheridan are there, too. Pour yourself a drink and come out and join us. We'd love to hear how life's treating you.

 

I'll do that, Dan promised, grabbing a pair of tongs and filling his glass with ice. As the Moores walked from the room, he watched the sway of Marianne Moore's behind as she trailed her husband.

 

Before Dan could tear his gaze from the tight, khaki-covered buns, a new image appeared: that of Donna Love.

 

Atop open-toed heels click-clacking against the hardwood floor, she strode purposefully into the dining room and toward the bar -- and Dan.

 

Her lustrous blonde hair cascaded across her shoulders and down her back, a perfect set-off against the bright red silk blouse that was wrapped around her torso. A black wool skirt, ending just above the knee, completed the ensemble.

 

Pervert, she muttered beneath her breath.

 

Dan poured a measure of Ketel One into the tumbler before responding to her taunt. What was that for? he asked, an amused expression on his clean-shaven face.

 

That was for you being a pervert, Mrs. Love answered, pouring herself a glass of egg nog. I saw you staring Marianne's ass. The drool was practically dripping from your chin.

 

Dan chuckled as he added tonic to the tumbler. I only drool for you, Mrs. Love.

 

Hmph.

 

Yeah. Hmph. I've heard that sound from you before.

 

Donna Love glared at her son's best friend over the rim of her glass. Dan smirked back at her in response. You know what I'm talking about, Mrs. Love.

 

I don't know why I'm even standing here talking to you, she intoned, refilling her glass. She took a sip and turned on her heel, stomping from the dining room.

 

He smiled to himself as he squeezed a lime over his drink and then rejoined the party.

 

Coming up on 10:30, Dan, now well-lubed, rattled the two or three ice cubes that remained in his empty glass and moved from the kitchen into the dining room. Before he reached a freshly cracked bottle of vodka, Mrs. Love glided into the room through the wide entrance leading in from the living room, barely acknowledging his presence.

 

As she poured another glass of egg nog for herself, Dan approached the table-cum-bar and scooped a few cubes from an ice bucket. Elvis' 'Blue Christmas' played from the stereo in the living room.

 

And how is your evening going, Mrs. Love? he asked, not looking at her, his eyes measuring the vodka as it flowed into his glass.

 

Very well, Dan. And yours? Her voice was curt.

 

Couldn't be better. With a hiss, Dan opened a bottle of tonic, pouring it over the ice and vodka, the cubes cracking. Looks like you're riding solo tonight. Where's Mr. Love?

 

Stuck in Boston.

 

How terrible. And on a weekend, no less. How'd that happen?

 

Snow. He was supposed to get in last night but Logan was closed.

 

What a shame. A beautiful woman like you should not be without an escort.

 

Yes. Well.

 

Yes. Well, he mocked.

 

Mrs. Love was nonplussed. One arm crossed beneath her enormous breasts, the elbow of the other resting on it, she brought the egg nog to her full, shiny lips and rolled her eyes. But she made no move to extricate herself from this conversation.

 

I see you've been tucking that egg nog away tonight. Sure hope you're not driving.

 

Of course not, she responded, taking another swig of the creamy drink.

 

Room at the Ritz again, Mrs. Love?

 

Over the rim of her glass, bright blue eyes bore into him, the ever-present hatred of the young man shooting from them like bullets.

 

So, Dan began, turning slightly and looking through the door into the living room, then into the kitchen. The party was still going strong, most of the guests congregating in one of the two rooms. Picked out your prey for tonight?

 

Go fuck yourself, Dan, Mrs. Love responded, downing the rest of her egg nog and refilling her glass.

 

He tut-tutted her. Such foul language from such a classy woman. I'm shocked.

 

I've got more class in my right pinky finger than you have in your whole body, young man, she hissed at him, leaning into him so that no one heard their conversation.

 

Dan's cock stirred within his pants as a saline-packed breast squished against his muscular bicep, but he just smiled. Yeah, and you have more plastic in your left breast than you could find on a porn set.

 

Her cheeks flushed at the insult. But then again, she knew it wasn't really an insult. It was, in a very twisted way, a compliment, at least in the context of the lust-hate relationship that had developed between her and her son's best friend.

 

Asshole, she muttered, turning away and marching from the room.

 

Happy hunting, Dan called to her receding form. His eyes locked on her tight little swaying bottom as she went.

 

Around one o'clock, he glanced at his watch and stood on somewhat wobbly legs to leave. As he made his way toward the bathroom, Steve caught him by the arm.

 

Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?

 

Football. Why?

 

Well, I gotta get a Christmas gift for Karen and I have no idea what to get her. You're pretty good with that kinda thing. Can you give me a hand?

 

Sure; no problem. What time?

 

I dunno. Ten? Eleven?

 

Ten's good. I wanna be back for the Bears' game. Swing by and pick me up.

 

Great. Thanks, dude. Steve walked back toward the party in the kitchen and Dan continued down the darkened hallway toward the bathroom to relieve himself. After he washed his hands, he pulled the door open to find Donna Love leaning against the wall opposite the door, Nat King Cole drifting down the hallway. Her arms were crossed beneath her jutting breasts, pushing them up and together. Her right ankle was crossed over the left.

 

Dan paused, then moved to bypass her on his way to the front door, but she gently placed her hand on his chest, delicate fingers splayed, the bright red polish on her nails infinitely deeper in the darkness of the unlit hallway. With her other hand she slipped a key card into the breast pocket of his shirt.

 

What's that? he asked, knowing the answer.

 

Mrs. Love paused and looked down the hallway, ensuring that no one was watching them. The key to my hotel room. Room 1347, she whispered, patting his chest and tweaking one of his nipples. She took a step down the hallway, away from him, but paused and turned on her heel.

 

Oh, and by the way, asshole? she intoned in a stage whisper, a trim eyebrow arched elegantly over a piercing eye. You're my prey for tonight.

 

Before she could move away, Dan caught her by the arm and pulled her close. I don't think so, he hissed in her ear. You want me, you know where I live. I'll probably be up for an hour. He then eased himself past the older woman, slipping the key card into the neck of her blouse.

 

Five minutes later, having said his goodbyes and it-was-great-to-see-yous, Dan carefully descended the stairs and hailed a cab at the curb. Unseen to his eyes was Mrs. Love's similarly quick exit from the party. Bundled in her mink, she too caught a cab, but this one took her to the Ritz-Carlton.

 

Upon arriving home, Dan cranked up the heat and shed the clothes he had worn to Steve's party in favor of a tee-shirt and a pair of gray sweat shorts. Lounging on the couch, he flipped through the channels until he reached ESPN, then waited for clips from the Heisman press conference from earlier that evening. Yawning, he glanced at the clock on the DVD player and considered watching the highlights from his bed.

 

But before the decision had been made, his telephone chirped twice, indicating a call from the security gate below. A smile spread across his face and he rose from the couch, peeking out one of the windows at the gate.

 

Her feet stomping in open toed heels, the big mink wrapped tightly around her heavenly body, Mrs. Love waited for him to answer the phone.

 

Dan hit send.

 

Hello?

 

It's me. Her breath vaporized in the near-freezing mid-December air. Snowflakes were beginning to fall and the sidewalk upon which she stood was fading to white.

 

Hi, Mrs. Love, he said, his voice all innocence as he continued to stare down at her. Where are you?

 

She looked up and saw him in the window. Let me in, goddammit, she pleaded, her middle finger extending from the sleeve of the pelt.

 

Dan hit the star button and saw Mrs. Love quickly push through the gate and then disappear into the building's lobby. Ninety seconds later, he heard a faint ding signaling the arrival of the elevator on his floor and padded across the living room to the door.

 

He paused a moment, then opened it. Mrs. Love strode down the hallway toward him. He knew the treasures that lay beneath, but the heavy, shiny coat made her formless. Only her calves were visible, and they rippled with each step she took in her heels, her red toenails gleaming in the bright light of the hallway.

 

She pulled a hand from one of the coat's pockets and a Santa cap followed. When she reached the threshold, she stopped and smiled, her pure white teeth sparkling against the glossy red of full, pouty lips. She pulled the red cap, trimmed with white faux fur, over her bright golden locks. The furry ball hung across a tanned cheekbone and she tilted her head, looking at the top of the doorframe.

 

What, no mistletoe?

 

Do I need it? Dan asked, stepping back to let her in.

 

Not with me, she responded boldly, entering his condominium. Leaving her coat on, she stopped to look around and then turned back to him as he shut and bolted the door. Very nice. I've never been in here, only dropped Steve off a few times.

 

First time for everything. You wanna drink?

 

Mrs. Love shook her head and the white ball of fur swung playfully back and forth over her eyes. I think I had enough.

 

Dan motioned her to the seating in the living area.

 

So, who's your decorator?

 

My mom, he informed her, flopping onto the couch, muting the television.

 

Figures, she muttered, folding herself into a lounge chair, the coat still wrapped around her luscious body. No Christmas decorations, though. Santa won't like that.

 

Dan laughed shortly. Santa goes to my parents' house. Not here.

 

Mrs. Love smirked and gracefully pushed herself out of the chair and stepped between the couch and the coffee table. That, young man, is where you are mistaken.

 

Stepping between his legs, Mrs. Love's slight fingers worked the top button of the heavy mink until it popped free, and then worked on the next button. As she undid the remaining buttons, her bright red nails and the obscene diamond ring on her left ring finger glittered in the faint light provided by the can lights in the ceiling. When the last button came undone, she shrugged the gleaming black coat from her shoulders and it slid to a big, furry puddle at her feet, accompanied by a barely audible gasp from Dan's throat.

 

Mrs. Love stood before him. Her small feet were still encased in the black Gucci slides so inappropriate for December in Chicago. His eyes traveled up and over her calves, taking in the taut flesh of her long, trim legs, the effort she put forth at the health club evident in the slight musculature of her bare thighs, her frequent forays to the family home on Captiva Island revealed by the bronzed flesh.

 

A bright red babydoll just barely concealed her surely bald vagina. The same white faux fur that adorned her Santa cap ringed the bottom hem of the lingerie, and also the deeply cut neckline, highlighting a healthy cleavage. The silk material bulged over her augmented breasts and her perpetually thickened nipples pushed at the fabric. A long strand of pearls draped around her neck and disappeared beneath the babydoll, where they were squeezed between her breasts.

 

Oh, lord, Dan muttered, his eyes now locked on the bright red gloss that was smeared across her lush lips.

 

Those lips turned up in a wicked smile. Mrs. Love bent at the knees and turned slightly to her left, revealing a full white cottontail appended to the rear of the babydoll, just at the small of her back. The rear of the babydoll rode up, exposing a thong that matched its hue.

 

The Lord can't help you now, she purred. Merry Christmas.

 

Dan's cock thickened in his shorts and he leaned forward on the couch. His left hand almost trembling, he reached out and hooked two fingers in the leg of Mrs. Love's thong, right where her pubic hair would have been had she had any. Gently, so as to not tear the silk material, he pulled her toward him.

 

And Merry Christmas to you, slut.

 

Mrs. Love allowed her lithe body to be pulled onto the young man's lap. She hooked her trim legs over his, straddling him, and ground her pelvic bone against his, feeling the heat of his cock through his shorts. Elegant fingers on his shoulders, she then leaned down and softly brushed her wet lips against his.

 

And just how slutty are going to make me be tonight, young man? she whispered, her hot breath caressing his lips, filling his now-dry mouth.

 

Beneath her, Dan shuddered as his hands slid up the cool flesh of her toned legs, encircling her pliant hips. An incomprehensible sound emanated from his throat and Mrs. Love slid her wet, pink tongue between his lips and into the hot cavern of his mouth, her tongue swirling around his with lustful abandon. Another unintelligible grunt.

 

What's the matter, Dan? she whispered again, squirming her body against his, her massive breasts flattening against his chest. Cat got your tongue?

 

Mrs. Love reached behind her and pushed the heels off her dainty feet and Dan didn't answer. He merely moaned into her mouth, his cock throbbing with the lustful sensation of her wet tongue assaulting his own.

 

Her manicured nails digging into his shoulders, Mrs. Love pushed herself up so that she stood on the couch, her small feet sinking into the leather cushions. Using two fingers of her left hand, she slid the crotch of the silk thong to the side, revealing her freshly waxed vagina, glistening in her own excitement.

 

Or maybe the pussy's got your tongue. As the wicked words tumbled from her depraved lips, she placed her right hand on the back of Dan's head, her fingers grasping tightly at his close-cropped hair, her long nails digging into his scalp.

 

Dan was still non-responsive. Mrs. Love gently pulled his head toward her sodden vagina but stopped when the tip of his nose bumped up against her clitoris. She pulled his head first right then left, then right again and his nose played over the inflamed bud once, twice.

 

She pulled back on his hair and tilted his head back slightly. His eyes, clouded with lust -- a sinful lust for his best friend's mother -- floated up her taut belly. Above him, he could see her eyes, just barely visible over the bulge of her breasts, sparkling with amusement.

 

She raised an eyebrow and then roughly pulled his face into her crotch. His thick tongue slithered from between his lips and lapped at her silky labia, the syrupy fluid of her vagina collecting in the well of his mouth before he swallowed. He then flattened his tongue against her hardened clitoris.

 

Oh, gawd, he heard her murmur above him.

 

Keeping pressure against her clit, Dan swirled his tongue over the slick protrusion and Mrs. Love's lithe legs trembled. She kicked her right leg over the back of the couch, her small foot barely touching the floor behind, and brutally pulled the back of his head against her squelching cunt, forcing him to twist his head around awkwardly.

 

Eat it, pervert! she hissed, pulling him tight against her sodden crotch, her massive tits bunched up in the cheap babydoll, threatening to spill over the inadequate cups. That's right, eat it! Get your tongue in there!

 

The veins in Dan's neck pulsed at the uncomfortable position and he twisted the rest of his body around, one hand snaking beneath her taut thigh to grab hold of her ass. He dipped his head slightly, sinking his hot tongue deep into the folds of her dripping cunt.

 

Satisfied that the young man wasn't going to turn his attention elsewhere, Mrs. Love leaned back slightly and braced one hand against the back rail of the couch, her overstuffed tits wobbling proudly beneath the slutty Mrs. Claus outfit.

 

She shifted her pelvis a little and Dan's free hand slipped between her damp thighs. He lifted his head and swiped his tongue over her swollen clit as one finger, then another, forced their way past her full labia.

 

Gooood booooy, she cooed, luxuriating in the dual sensations of her cuntal walls being stretched and his smooth tongue easing itself over her inflamed clit.

 

As a third finger slithered into her depths, Dan abruptly sucked the protruding bud between his teeth and held it there, his tongue roughly flicking it back and forth.

 

Mrs. Love, balanced precariously as she was on the back of the couch, nearly fell.

 

Oh, fuck, she screamed, her body tensing as Dan eased a fourth finger into her overused cunt. Ooohhh ffuucckkk!!!!

 

The elbow of the arm bracing her buckled and the depraved woman fell backward along the back of the couch, her elegant hands flying to her heaving chest, her long, slender fingers tweaking her pulsing nipples through the cheap fabric.

 

Dan continued the brutal assault on the unfaithful woman's tender clit while he flexed the four fingers buried in her convulsing cunt. He jammed his face against her pubic bone, his teeth nibbling at the base of her clit while his tongue beat against the pulsing bud.

 

Aaaggghhhh, she wailed, long, manicured nails clawing at the babydoll, trying to free her aching nipples from the thin material.

 

Dan let his wrist drop, forcing his fingers down, stretching her labia wide, while his fingers spread deep in her sodden hole, the soft walls of her cunt yielding to the pressure.

 

Mrs. Love's lithe body convulsed once then tensed. Uuuuugggggghhhhh!!!!! she moaned.

 

Dan felt her cuntal walls contract around his fingers as a massive orgasm washed over her forty-seven-year-old body. She bucked her hips into his face, crushing his nose against her distended clit, bringing tears to his eyes.

 

Her luscious body quivered and shook as Dan eased the pressure on her clit and her fingers relaxed, releasing their death grip on the faux fur neckline of the babydoll.

 

Holy shit, she breathed, leaning to her left so that she rolled back to the couch. Catching her breath, Mrs. Love scooted her ass into the corner of the couch and spread her legs slightly, a manicured finger drifting down between her legs to soothe her pulsing clit.

 

Dan too sat back on the couch and wiped Mrs. Love's cunt juice from his face with the back of his hand. He then pulled his shirt over his head and lifted his ass from the cushion, sliding his shorts down over his muscular thighs. My turn, Mrs. Love.

 

Yeah, right, she whispered, pushing herself off the couch.

 

Dan's face clouded over in confusion as he watched the degenerate woman perch herself atop his coffee table. She leaned toward him and pushed him back into the couch, lifting her dainty feet to either side of his knees.

 

Just sit back and relax, she ordered.

 

She leaned back, bracing herself with her right arm and gathered the babydoll up around her waist with her free hand. The thong still pulled to the side, her bald cunt shone in the faint light of the room, her abused labia now loosened and red and puffy. Gently, she eased the thong back in place. She chuckled at his expression.

 

What? You want some of this? she teased him, three manicured fingers slightly tapping her clit through the thong.

 

Dan's voice caught so he simply nodded his head.

 

Oh yeah? Well, what are you going to do to get it?

 

His brow furrowed.

 

You don't think I just give this up for free, do you? she taunted.

 

A bemused expression crossed his face and he swallowed. Uh, yeah, that's exactly. . . .

 

Before Dan could finish his sentence, Mrs. Love leaned forward and slapped him lightly on the cheek. She pointed a manicured finger in his face scoldingly. Not for free. I always get something.

 

Uh . . . well . . . what do you want?

 

Satisfied, Mrs. Love leaned back again. Grab the bottle from my purse, she ordered him, her fingers tracing circles against her taut stomach, easing toward her bulginig breasts. Dan leaned over, felt around the big bag, and pulled a bottle of KY Warming Fluid from it. He showed it to her.

 

I wanna see you stroke it, she announced. Stroke it for me.

 

Dan was nonplussed. I don't wanna stroke it. I want YOU to stroke it.

 

Mrs. Love dropped her feet from the edge of the couch and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. Her store-bought tits squeezed together to form a deep cleavage, almost falling from the babydoll, and she put a slender finger in his face again.

 

I don't CARE what you want! This isn't about YOU! It's about ME! Now, stroke it!

 

Dan fumbled with the top and, releasing it, poured a few drops along the length of his shaft.

 

More.

 

Huh?

 

What are you, deaf? I said, MORE!

 

Dan followed the hedonistic woman's direction and liberally coated the length of his meaty shaft with the lubrication. His strong fingers then closed around the shiny, dripping cock, gently easing up and down the length, forcing the veins to pop.

 

Mrs. Love leaned back again and ran bright red manicured nails across the silky thong covering her well-used cunt. She shivered as a sharp nail scraped across her clit. Gooood boy, she rewarded him, her bright blue eyes locked on his pulsing shaft as he stroked it.

 

The pads of her fingers rubbed harder against her clit, their speed increasing, and a dark patch began to spread across the fabric.

 

Show me how hard it gets, young man, she whispered, her world nothing now except for the thick tower of young cock glistening before her. That's it.

 

Her hips bucked as the pressure of her fingers increased. She slid a manicured nail down the furrow of her hole, pushing the fabric into the folds of her cunt, and she gasped at the unnatural intrusion.

 

Faster, she ordered, her voice cracking.

 

Dan increased the speed of his fist and it flew up and down his shaft, working the lubrication into the overheated flesh.

 

Yeah, she moaned before ripping the thong to the left, bearing her glistening bald cunt to his leering eyes. The soft tips of her fingers now slid directly across her fiery clit and she shuddered, her eyes hooded with animal lust, but the fabric slid back. Frustrated, she gathered it in her fist and ripped the thong from her thighs, leaving it hanging around a trembling knee.

 

Dan groaned at her wanton display, his fist almost a blur as it sped up and down his shaft. Pre-cum bubbled up from the tip of his cock and slid down its length, adding to the lubrication. Pull your tits out, he mumbled.

 

Mrs. Love jerked as she slid two long fingers into her dripping hole. Shut . . . up! she groaned.

 

Abruptly, she sat up, her fingers still plunging her cunt. With her free hand, she pulled the strand of pearls up and over her head. She laid them gently across the tops of her heaving tits and leaned back again. The strand slowly slid down the slick fabric covering her taut stomach, the clinking of the pearls like a slinky as they rolled slowly downward.

 

Oh fuck, Dan moaned. His wrist was getting tired, his flesh dry and overheated. He reached for the bottle of lubrication and then changed the angle of his stroking.

 

Mrs. Love pulled her fingers from her depths, now wet and shiny with her own fluids. Her thumb hooked the strand of pearls and pulled it downward, toward her dripping hole. She pushed two or three pearls from the strand into her gaping wetness.

 

Dan whimpered at the debauchery that was Mrs. Love.

 

She continued to push the pearls into her until half the strand had disappeared. What remained inadvertently slid off her bare pelvis and hung from her cunt, just barely touching the floor between them.

 

Dan's hand relaxed around his cock and he leaned forward, intent on assisting Mrs. Love in her wickedness.

 

But she pushed him away, back into the couch. Keep . . . stroking . . . pervert.

 

Dan resumed his assault, his fist tighter now around his shaft. Before him, Mrs. Love's slender fingers gathered a few more pearls and eased them between her loosened labia. She pulled a few more up, the clanking of the gems the only sound he heard over his labored breathing.

 

As she pushed the last of the pearls into her nasty cunt, her fingers danced across the inflamed bud of her clit, the bright red nails and grotesquely large diamond a blur as she brought herself close to orgasm.

 

Dan's body trembled against the cushions of the couch, pre-cum flowing liberally from the tip of his dripping shaft. His eyes floated up from Mrs. Love's hairless cunt, over the bright red babydoll, to her angelic face now with a sheen of sweat shining across her forehead and flushed cheeks.

 

What . . . what are you . . . doing? Dan intoned, his voice just above a whisper.

 

She smiled at him, bright white teeth gleaming over glossy red lips. Her eyes were alive with lust and she shifted her hips a little, three fingers dipping into her hot cunt, pushing the strand deeper.

 

Giving you . . . your Christmas . . . present, she moaned, her hips twitching as her fingers retreated, grazing across her fattened clit.

 

Dan shuddered but his brow furrowed.

 

She crooked a finger at him, finally beckoning him off the couch.

 

He pushed himself forward, almost going to his knees, but Mrs. Love's long fingers closed around his bicep, pulling him over her. He stood, bent at the waist.

 

Come closer, she whispered, lecherousness evident in her tone and her sparkling blue orbs. I have something I want to tell you.

 

Dan bent further, bringing his face close to hers. She put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him gently, her soft lips so lustful against his.

 

On your knees, she ordered him. Between my legs.

 

Dan went to his knees, his cock bobbing above the hot wet flesh of her pelvis.

 

Reaching between them, her fingers closed around the young, hot flesh of his cock. She tugged gently while whispering into his ear. I want you to FUCK me.

 

Dan shivered as her hot breath caressed his inner ear.

 

She positioned the head of his cock against her clit and released it, her soft hand sliding around his strong hip to his ass. She pulled the young man against her, causing the oily cockhead to slide up her clit, his heavy balls slapping against her cunt lips, and then released him, the shaft sliding back down the furrow of her cunt.

 

Know what I celebrated two weeks ago? she asked, her voice soft, her eyes amused.

 

Trembling, Dan just shook his head.

 

My anniversary, she announced, her voice still low. Her elegant fingers gripped his hip, pushed him away slightly to allow his cockhead to drag across her clit and down the channel of her cunt. She left it to rest there.

 

Do you want to know what Mr. Love bought me?

 

Oh, gawd, Dan moaned, his eyes screwed shut, anxious to bury his cock in his best friend's mom. I don't . . . I don't care . . . just wanna . . . fuck you.

 

Mrs. Love ignored him. She slid both hands along his hips to his ass cheeks. She flexed her fingers, the bright red nails digging into the firm flesh.

 

Dan's eyes eased open and a wicked smile formed on Mrs. Love's features. Slight crow's feet appeared at the corners of her sensuous mouth. She lifted her legs high, higher, and Dan's cockhead burrowed itself into the sopping folds of her cunt.

 

PEARLS! she nearly screamed, at the same time yanking the young man's hips into her, impaling her cheating cunt on the fat shaft.

 

Uuuuggggghhhhh!!! Dan groaned as the full length of his cock was forcefully buried in Mrs. Love's scaldingly hot hole.

 

That's right, pervert, she grunted, the wind almost knocked from her lungs.

 

Dan pulled back and slammed back into her, her wetness causing a wet slapping sound as their pelvic bones met in a violent collision.

 

You're fucking . . . my anniversary present . . . even deeper . . . into my nasty . . . cheating . . . fuck . . . hole! she screamed, the young man above her trembling with lust as he drove his cock brutally into her wet, yielding cunt.

 

Dan pushed himself up so that he was upright and his hands closed around Mrs. Love's thighs. He pulled her roughly against him, toward the edge of the coffee table, to get a better angle on her spasming vagina. Her taut legs were held tightly against his chest, knees bent and calves over his shoulders.

 

Merry . . . fuckin' . . . Christmas, she spat, lust pouring from her eyes as Dan pummeled her spoken-for cunt.

 

You . . . are so . . . fuckin' . . . filthy, Dan spat back, his hips pistoning back and forth in quick, violent jabs, spearing the older woman along the full length of him, his cockhead crashing into the warm hardness of the pearls.

 

Her quaking legs still pinned against his chest, Dan leaned forward and grabbed the faux fur trim at the neck of her babydoll. He pulled the fabric toward him, rendering it taut. And then, with animal lust, he ripped the front of the lingerie open.

 

Yessss, she hissed, overcome with lust at being taken so viciously by her son's best friend.

 

Mrs. Love's massive tits popped free, wobbling uncontrollably atop her trim, tanned torso. Her areolas were crinkled and goosebumped, the nipples hard and erect, almost red from the pinching and pulling she had levied on them before.

 

Dan leaned further into her, gathering the housewife's wobblers in his palms. His cock still piercing the tender flesh of her cunt, he squeezed the overinflated globes brutally, her titflesh oozing between his fingers. Her engorged nipples spiked into his palms and he released the flesh, his fingers closing around what he knew to be Mrs. Love's pleasure centers.

 

Squeeze them, she panted, her luscious body jerking up and down on the coffee table in time with the young man's thrusts.

 

Dan smiled almost cruelly, taking her teats in his fingers and pinching them only lightly, knowing she wanted more, knowing she wanted her nipples abused.

 

Noooo, she whimpered, tossing her head from side to side, sweat flying from her golden locks. Harder, she implored him.

 

Dan stepped it up slowly, twisting the sensitive nipples slightly, enjoying the agony of suspense in her lustful eyes.

 

Mrs. Love's strong legs locked tighter around his neck, almost causing his eyes to bulge. Harder, I said, she mewled. You know . . . how I . . . like it!

 

Without warning, Dan pushed the cheating woman's legs from his shoulders, spreading her wide. He released her turgid nipples, leaned across her body and pushed the augmented tits together, nipples nearly touching. He sucked first one and then the other into his hot, wet mouth, nipping at the tender flesh, feeling it pulse between his lips, between his teeth.

 

Yesssssssssssss!!!! she hissed again, her slick-with-sweat arms crossing behind his neck, pulling him tighter into the mountains of titflesh. Harder . . . bite . . . them . . . harder!

 

Dan obliged her. His strong fingers fought to keep her sweaty tits piled up against each other as he abused Mrs. Love's nipples, his teeth closing against the rubbery flesh of not just one but both thick teats.

 

Oohh, mooooore, she pleaded, her small feet rising involuntarily around his pounding hips, ankles locked, her soft heels crashing into his ass, urging him to fuck her harder. She released him only long enough to allow his cock to retreat five or six inches from the quivering fuck hole. A quarter of the strand of pearls was dragged out with his cock, the strand having wrapped itself around the crown of his cock. She then kicked him back into her again.

 

Oh, shit, Dan grunted. Pushing back into the overheated wetness, Dan felt the pearls wrap tighter around his shaft, constricting the flow of blood like a python to a mouse. When he pulled back out, the pearls rolled up the length of his shaft before catching just below his head. His eyes rolled up and into the back of his head. He paused when he felt his balls lurch beneath him.

 

Keep . . . fucking . . . me, the immoral wife begged, her tender heels beating into his firm ass.

 

Under control again, Dan slammed his length back into her only to feel the strand wrap tighter around his shaft. He held himself in her, crushing Mrs. Love's twitching clit between their bodies. Wanting her to cum, he cruelly wiggled his pelvic bone against hers, grinding down on her clit, while at the same time pulling his head back, stretching her meaty nipples away from her surgically enhanced tits, distorting them.

 

Aaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhh!!!!! the unfaithful woman screamed, her body tensing below him.

 

Dan jerked his hips, but only a little, fearful of unloading his cum in her cunt too soon, and Mrs. Love quivered beneath him. Her hands released their grip on his head and flew to the edge of the coffee table, knuckles white and straining. Her head thrashed back and forth. She slammed her hips against the young man, increasing the pressure on her clit, as a second orgasm of the night washed over her lithe body.

 

Oh, fuck, she breathed, her breath still ragged but normalizing. Her long, slender fingers relaxed and her arms closed around the back of Dan's head again, pulling his face into hers, their lips meeting, softly at first, then more urgently. Her wet, pink tongue slid into his mouth, searching for his.

 

Did you cum? she moaned into him.

 

Un-uh.

 

No? I thought . . . I thought I felt you, she breathed, her chest heaving, her oversized tits pushing into his sweaty chest.

 

Almost, Dan said, pushing himself off his best friend's mother. Look at this.

 

He pulled back and Mrs. Love groaned as his fat cockhead was pulled slowly from her stretched labia. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked between them. The strand of pearls had nearly knotted itself around the shiny purple head of Dan's cock.

 

Mrs. Love laughed aloud and reached between them, gently coaxing the pearls from around each other, freeing the strand from the young man's shaft. Bad pearls, she chastised.

 

Dan twisted at the waist and grabbed the bottle of lubricant from the couch. When he turned back around, Mrs. Love was slowly pulling the gems from her sloppy hole. He grabbed her gently by the wrist.

 

Un-uh, he said. NOW it's my turn.

 

Mrs. Love gave him a wicked smile in return, leaning back on her elbows.

 

Dan slowly began pushing the pearls back inside her. When the last one disappeared, he pushed two fingers into her bald cunt, forcing the strand deeper inside her. He then poured a generous helping of the lubrication onto his fingers and another amount along the length of his shaft.

 

Here's to your anniversary, you little cheating whore, he said, forcing two fingers into Mrs. Love's asshole.

 

Oh, fuck, she gasped at the unexpected intrusion, her hips wiggling, trying to force his fingers deeper.

 

You want it in your ass, Mrs. Love? he taunted her.

 

Her soulful eyes hooded, she bit her lush lip and nodded her head.

 

Thought so, Dan muttered, removing his fingers from the pulsing hole. He poured more lubricant along them before gently easing them back into her anus. The pads of the fingers of his free hand rested on her engorged clit, slowly manipulating it.

 

Ready? he questioned her, the fingers in her ass flexing. The wrinkles that pointed the path to her asshole disappeared as he spread his fingers wide.

 

Mm-hm, she whimpered, rotating her pliant hips atop the coffee table.

 

Dan poured another dose of oil along the length of his cock and positioned the shiny, blood-engorged head at the entrance to her butthole.

 

Anniversary gift filling your nasty cunt, son's best friend filling your filthy asshole. You should be ashamed of yourself, Dan scolded her, shoving the entire length of his cock into her well-oiled asshole.

 

Uugghh, she grunted, twisting her pelvis at him, trying to accommodate the full girth of the young man's shaft as it brutally invaded her.

 

He pulled back, leaving just the head of his cock hidden in her anus, and squirted more lubricant along his shaft. His fingers went to work on her clit as he slammed back into her asshole.

 

Ooohhh fuuuuuck! Mrs. Love moaned, her distended nipples pulsing with the competing spectacles of her smoldering clit being manipulated and her tender asshole being pummeled. She arched her back off the coffee table and jerked her undulating pelvis at the young man, forcing his thick shaft deeper.

 

Dan bent over Mrs. Love's quivering frame, his hands gripping her sweaty shoulders, holding her in place as his fat cock continued its assault on her battered asshole.

 

She groaned at the sudden absence of pressure on her engorged clit, but her fingers soon replaced his, the bright red nails but a blur as they danced across the sore protrusion.

 

Dan dropped his chin to look between them and his cock pulsed. The image of his veiny cock slicing in and out of his best friend's mother's asshole while her diamond-encrusted fingers manipulated her own clit was almost too much, and he felt his balls tighten as they swung against Mrs. Love's asscheeks.

 

Her gleaming eyes followed his gaze and a smirk formed on her gleaming lips.

 

Like what you see, young man? she inquired needlessly.

 

Mm-hm, he whimpered. He released his grip on the woman's shoulders and his strong fingers closed around her nipples, twisting them lightly.

 

Like burying that fat . . . young . . . cock . . . in Mrs. Love's . . . ASSHOLE? she spat, clenching her ass around the young man's invading shaft.

 

Uuuggghhh, he grunted as he felt her asshole tighten around his girth, sweat now dripping off his nose. He nearly toppled over backward, but his fingers remained locked on Mrs. Love's inflamed nipples, tugging them violently.

 

Mrs. Love yelped at the excruciating pain but her dripping cunt moistened further, easing the friction of her manicured fingers as they continued to speed back and forth over her abused clit. She wrapped her quivering legs around the young man, supple heels again prodding him on, forcing him deeper. Her ass lifted off the coffee table and Dan released her nipples, clamping her quaking thighs against his chest once again.

 

Her overinflated tits rolled up her torso toward her chin and Mrs. Love's dripping fingers abandoned her spasming cunt for her sore nipples, her feminine juices soothing the raw teats. As the bright red nails closed around the inflamed buds, she clenched her asshole again drawing a groan from deep within Dan's throat.

 

The violent pistoning of his hips grew erratic, as did his breath. His eyes screwed shut and his balls lurched beneath him.

 

Cum . . . for . . . me . . . pervert, Mrs. Love panted. Cum . . . all over . . . my . . . slut . . . body!

 

Oh gawd o gawd o fuck.

 

His body jerked once and then again. He abruptly pulled his hips back, tearing the blood-engorged cock from Mrs. Love's now-gaping asshole. He shoved the quivering shaft up the channel of her cunt, the hardened nub of her clit coursing along the underside of his shaft.

 

Mrs. Love's hands flew between them, two fingers dipping into the saturated folds of her sodden cunt. She fished the strand of pearls from deep within her and quickly wrapped it around the length of Dan's pulsing shaft. Her left fist closed around the meaty tube, the fingers of her right gently massaging his hanging nut sac.

 

Gasping for breath, Dan leaned back on his haunches and looked between their two sweaty bodies. Mrs. Love's tightly gripping fist raced up and down his twitching, oily cock, the bright red nails and obscene diamond contrasting smudges. Her slender fingers forced the pearls against his flesh, into the sensitive underside at the base of his shaft, rolling back and forth.

 

Oh fuck, he croaked. Gonna . . . cum!

 

Mrs. Love's neck strained as she kept her head elevated off the coffee table. Her bright eyes, hooded in lust, gazed between her wobbling, bloated cleavage to the smooth cockhead aimed directly up her body, poised to fire a bullet of cum right into her mouth.

 

Shoot . . . that cum . . . all . . . over . . . me! she demanded. Cover me with it!

 

She groaned as the slit at the apex of the young man's cock winked open, followed not a moment later by a thick rope of sperm that flew up her body, casting a line of pearlescent fluid from her belly button to the bottoms of her trembling tits.

 

Her elegant fingers brutally yanked on Dan's shaft, compressing the pearls against the steaming flesh. A second jet of cum was spit from the fat cock, flying through the air and splattering against her stomach and the underside of the store-bought monsters mounted to her heaving chest.

 

Dan's muscular body spasmed as a third stream of sperm spewed from his cockhead, pooling on Mrs. Love's taut, tanned stomach, filling her belly button. Her fingers desperately tugged at the trembling shaft and he shuddered as a final glob of cum leaked from the slit at the head of his cock, falling to her hairless cunt with an audible plop.

 

Dan collapsed against the couch, the strand of pearls unwinding from his slimy shaft and clattering to the floor between his knees. Fuckin' incredible, he breathed, wiping sweat from his brow as his breathing began to slow.

 

Donna Love remained prone on the table, elegant manicured fingers of one hand lazily tracing circles in the young man's cum that coated her wobbling tits, the other gently tweaking a still hardened nipple.

 

Like I said, Merry Christmas, pervert, she intoned.

 

Dan rolled his head toward the bathroom door as it cracked open.

 

What are doing up? she scowled, a look of scorn crossing her freshly scrubbed face. She eased through the doorway, a large white bath sheet wrapped around her trim torso, concealing her bulging tits.

 

Morning to you.

 

She rolled her bright blue eyes but decided to ignore his sarcasm. Did I hear a phone?

 

Mm-hm.

 

She merely raised an eyebrow, pausing to lean against the doorframe. She crossed her arms beneath the store-bought balloons that had been bolted to her chest; her nipples, thickened as always, mounded the fabric.

 

Steve, Dan responded to her unasked question.

 

She nodded her head curtly, a bead of water releasing from a few stray strands of platinum before coursing down her collarbone and disappearing beneath the towel. What'd he want?

 

We were supposed to go shopping this morning. To find something for Karen.

 

Mrs. Love rolled her eyes. She's such a little slut.

 

Dan laughed at the irony. You just spent the night fucking your son's best friend while your husband is stuck in an airport. So who's the true slut, Mrs. Love?

 

She blushed at the insult. But again, it wasn't really an insult.

 

Dan kicked the sheets from his body, revealing his limp but growing cock resting against his thigh. A sly smile parted Mrs. Love's full lips and she pushed herself off the doorframe, the towel coming loose and falling to the thick carpeting.

 

Dan's hand felt around the side table for his Blackberry, his eyes locked on Mrs. Love's lush body as she sauntered across the bedroom toward him. Her swollen tits wobbled on her slight frame, the bloated nipples pointing toward him, toward her prey.

 

She climbed onto the bed and crawled her way up while Dan dialed the phone.

 

Hey, what's up? he said into the mouthpiece as Mrs. Love engulfed the head of his cock in her warm, silky mouth.

 

I . . . ugh . . . I'm gonna wanna . . . wanna take a shower, he breathed, her manicured fingers massaging his full balls. Uh . . . just buzz me when you get here . . . and I'll . . . I'll let you up . . . That cool?

 

Mrs. Love didn't hear her son's response or Dan's. He had involuntarily bucked his cock into her wet mouth, sending the thick shaft and rubbery head to the back of her throat, triggering a gag reaction. She was catching her breath when Dan hung up the phone.

 

We don't have much time, Mrs. Love. Wrap that fist around me and jerk me off into your slutty little mouth before your son gets here.

 

Reference