Half drunk and crazed with the sexual excitement that Charlie Crawford had ignited in her loins, Diane could think of nothing but that big cock that she'd felt lurching in his pants. As the evening wore on, the desire became more intense than she could bear. Her body felt like it had turned to butter, and the itching sensation in her pussy was driving her wild.

Feeling almost faint, Diane went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Standing by the sink, she heard someone enter the room. Turning, she saw Charlie Crawford's big frame looming above her.

Taking her into his arms, he lowered his mouth to her eagerly parted lips. Their tongues locked sensuously in a deep kiss, they writhed their loins together with a desperate madness. Rotating her pussy against his crotch, Diane felt his stiff cock.

She had never been so horny in her life, and a sticky stream of cuntal juice was dripping out of her inflamed cunt and running down her thigh. Her tongue slurping deep in his mouth, Diane frantically ground her juicy cunt against his cock. God, how she wanted to feel and touch it.

"Diane," he gasped. "Can we spend an afternoon together in a motel?"

"God, yes," she sobbed. "Any time. Any time. Just call me."

Thrilled that she was going to spend an afternoon in bed with Charlie, she still had a wild desire to fondle his big prick now. She began tearing at his belt and zipper so she could release his throbbing shaft from the confines of his stretched pants. Glancing through the slightly opened kitchen door, Diane saw her husband was deeply engrossed in a conversation.

"Come out here," she whispered, taking Charlie by the hand and leading him onto the darkened patio.

Slipping into the shadows, she backed him against the wall, only three or four feet away from where Robin was lying on the lawn. The girl was partially concealed by a low shrub, making it almost impossible for them to notice her.