Is he pretending it's Joanne's tit? she wondered. But, she didn't mind.

It only served to make her hotter, hinting as it did of naughty, incestuous inclinations. She rubbed her tits against him and fondled her fist around the root of his cock, holding him but not moving, not wanting to risk having him came in her hand – when her pussy was burning for that huge hunk of cockmeat.

She smiled impishly. "Did you have a nice dream last night, darling? A nice, wet dream?"

He looked up, his mouth still working on her tit.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"I sucked you off while you were asleep," she said. "I finger-fucked myself and sucked your big prick until you came."

"How very thoughtful of you," Robert said.

Catherine was really and truly getting in the mood now. Her imagination had worked her up to the heights.

"While I was blowing you, I was pretending that you were Joanne's boyfriend, darling – I was making believe that I was sucking off a teenaged boy…"

"Slut!" he said, but he didn't mind at all. "And then I made believe that it was you – and I was Joanne!" she went on. "I pretended I was sucking my father off."

Robert made a strangled, gasping sound as that erotic confession registered. His cock began to throb. He had often, had such incestuous thoughts, himself – not seriously considering it, but enjoying the erotic fantasy – and realizing that his wife shared those ideas filled him with wild lust. It was evident from the way his prick was pounding away like a jackhammer in her hand.

"You'd like Joanne to suck your cock, wouldn't you?" Catherine said, her voice husky with desire.

"I-I don't know…"

"I wouldn't mind, darling. I'd-I'd like to watch!"

Of course, this is merely pillow talk, Catherine thought. They weren't at all serious about such a wicked, depraved thing. Or were they?

Catherine could wait no longer.