It hadn't always been that way. For the first half of their twenty years of marriage, Biff could never get enough of her. He was one of those men who had to prove his virility by doing it at least once a day. Then he began to taper off, till now their sexual relations, were almost nonexistent. Vicky wondered what had gone wrong. Was it his age? Or had he simply grown tired of fucking the same woman day after day?

Biff was forty-five, Vicky was thirty-eight. She supposed that made them a middle-aged couple, but she certainly didn't feel middle-aged. Her body still pulsed with life and unspent energy, and it seemed lately that she constantly seethed with the need of sex. She was so constantly horny that she'd grown nervous and irritable-further dampening Biff's ardor, no doubt.

Well, fuck him, she thought, it's not all my fault.

Biff ordered the team to the showers, and Vicky stood up and started to make her way down the bleachers to join her husband. There were several low wolf whistles. None of the boys were oblivious to the exceptional endowments of the coach's wife. Vicky Benson was a statuesque redhead with lovely long legs, thick flowing hair, and an exceptionally large and well-shaped pair of tits. As she moved down the bleachers; her big full breasts thrust out and her shapely legs revealed by her short skirt, a couple of the boys ran into each other as they turned to look at her.

Holy sheeeee-it," one of them said in a low voice, "I'd sure like to get me some of that."

"Aw, knock it off," said Tod Mien. "She's the coach's wife, and you better show respect."

That got quite a few grins, and Tod himself had to turn away in order not to show his strange smile. It was his job, as captain, to keep the other guys in line, but secretly he had the hots for Mrs. Benson, too. She made all the little high-school girls look like Barbie dolls in comparison to her voluptuous beauty.

"Hello, handsome," Vicky said to Biff, using her most alluring tone. "Ready for a martini and a big steak?"