killer has business this morning. Urgent matters that need his attention.
Quickly standing up, looking upon his angel on earth, Slick slides off his shoes. Off with tailored slacks and boxers, each creeping down and around hard creamy muscled steel calves. Kicked to the side.
With his custom silver clasp sock garters socks still on, a six inch pearl handle razor nestled against his left shin, Slick grins as he stops to simply gaze.
Looking up is a sex drunk Kelly, legs open exposing all a man could ask for.
With his white shirt and vest still on, Slick unbuttons the front to his mid chest as his skin grows dewy with sweat. The handsome loving husband stands above a gently sighing Kelly, proud and throbbing, only inches from heart shaped pink lips. The hustler looks upon the woman of his dreams, delicate and beautiful.
Slick looks down to his big veiny dick, unusually huge for his height, throbbing with a need only Kelly knows how to give.
“I got shit ta’ do this morn’in woman.”
“Get this seed outta’ me befo’ I go. Daddy will make it up to ya’ latr’. Promise a’ that.”
Kelly gives in, knowing what Benjamin and her husband have planned. Besides, she has her own plans with Sally and mass is in an hour.
As hot breath arrives, like a sullen hot summer day, Slick quickly exhales, his eyes leading up to the fine chandelier. Its gleam and sparkle are no match to the ignited desire he suddenly feels.
Warm and tight, familiar and loving. Kelly glides her lover’s thick cock down easily, deeply, one of her specialties.
As the young wife’s delicate hands grapple at her husband’s small minute hip grinds, with two hands, sliding up and down, the vixen instantly masters her man. Instantly hearing a job well, soft inner growls emanating from Slick’s dark soul, Kelly wraps her delicate mouth all she can, making the hustler moan deeply.
With a quick plop from her small mouth, the siren’s tongue flickers along the hunk’s thick shaft, making Slick moan. The first of many this morning.
Knowing Slick well, his wife slurps her way down and around. Taking all of her lover over and over again as slightly salty precum trails down her milking skilled throat.
His eyes feeling as if they are about to pop out of his head, Slick looks down, watching as his wives blonde head bobs back and forth, fast and steady, milking more and more. As the hunk’s mouth gapes in awe, the sex drenched hustler is quickly uplifted to a heaven only Kelly can allow.
“Damn bebe ....,” he sighs deeply.
As Kelly’s deep wet throat glides up and down, making her husband unsteady, Slick’s huge calves and thighs tighten with a sudden formidable notion boiling in his low hanging balls. The killer is about to meet his own sweet wet demise. Quickly the salacious scoundrel pulls his engorged fat cock from Kelly skilled throat with a slight plopping sound.
Slick standing back, grinning ear to ear.
“I said quick woman”
“shit, .... not that quick.”
“Imma get su’m’o tha’ pussy too,” the hustler grins.
“Close your foul mouth before you spoil the mood,” Kelly grins devilishly. Slowly, feeling her own sensual heat rise in her blood, Kelly arrives to her feet, raising her silk gown over her head.
“Naw baby - keep tha’ on,” Slick says.
His wife pays him no mind, tossing the precious unmentionable is thrown across a satin chair.
Laying back, Kelly opens her legs wide as Slick looks upon her majesty with an awe that is clearly seen in his eyes and gentle smile.
The view is beautiful, even inspiring. “I always thoug’t God aint like me. Then he bless’d me wit’ yo’,” Slick says softly.
“If I make it ta’ heaven fo’ tha’ lives I don’ sav’d. I’mma shake his hand.”
“Kelly Anne. Yo’ is all tha’ makes me gu’d,” the hustler says softly.
The moment is hugely sentimental as Kelly feels tears start to form. Emotions that have no place in the lust filled secret garden she wishes to cultivate. As two licked fingers glide down her silky stomach, past and beyond, the young wife opens her legs as wide as a sunny horizen.
Gently plying open her thick wet pussy, feeling its slick invention, the young flapper makes her own self moan. Delving into a hot smoldering furnace of redemption, the vixen looks up into kind sweet eyes that are enjoying her small show of self congratulation.
Kelly knows her man. The words that just fell from Slick’s lips, as wonderful as they are, the kind every woman needs and wants to hear everyday of her life, must not take root in her soul. The man above her, in all of his delicious glory, her god and savior, is a braggart and adulterer in the highest order.
Such words, notions of divine intervention and treasured love, are meant for other husbands. Men whom come home to their wives after a hard days work. Husbands whom share their love only with their wives, forsaking all others.
The adonis staring down at Kelly, his loving, innocent blue eyes radiating a playful soul of exploration and self righteousness, is not that type of husband.
Slick is not that type of man.
If Kelly ever let such words take root in her soul, it would be her undoing. A heartbreaking wrathful hell on earth, endless tears and gut wrenching angst for how ever long Slick walked the earth.
The young flapper smiles at this ultimate truth, sliding her glossy red nails in and out of her sweet wet pussy. Kelly is happy. If the vixen wanted a cuckolded monogamous simpleton, she would have married one.
“Your the father of lies ....,” the goddess sighs.
As the truthful words leave her lips, the salacious siren gently titillates her inner vulva, sending a thrill through her core.
“And a cheat ......,” she moans.
Opening her thighs even more, Kelly’s pussy splayed open as if a most wonderful feast yet to be had, the young blond smiles. As if one of her many warm baths she likes to take, the vixen feels a deep love in her soul for the man looking upon her glory.
“And I adore all of you for it ....,” she moans.
Even as Slick’s dick aches with need, his mind awash in the cleansing elixure of lust and sex, the words sting him to his core. Watching his wife, his rough thick fingers gliding over soft legs and tiny feet, the killer feels the slightest of guilt. Peering into soft half open orbs of the deepest love, the hustler wonders what he has created with his wayward ways and need for killing.
As time stands still, not even a slight breeze from the bay window, the hustler lets a series of ‘what if’s’ course
