She felt a lot better than she had – not as good as if she'd been properly fucked, but better than being frustrated.
Jennifer thought that it was a damn good thing that if a woman had a husband who worked too hard to be passionate at home she always had the alternative of masturbation.
But if the neglected sex-pot had known exactly what sort of work was keeping her husband so exhausted lately, she would have been bitter, indeed.
Ned Foley had a new secretary.
CHAPTER THREE
Like their wives, Fred Foley and Morgan Davis were close enough friends to discuss sexual themes. Sexual themes, in fact were what they discussed most of the time. Sometimes they talked about baseball or poker and sometimes they spoke of their work, but mainly, when they talked, they talked of pussy.
As soon as Morgan got into the car, Fred gave him a big wink and said, "Christ, what a blow job I got off Jennifer this morning! My eyeballs damn near caved in."
Morgan, who had not had a fuck that morning, felt his cock lurch up.
He put his briefcase on his lap to hide the proof of his interest. It lay there like a platform supported on the spike of his hardening dick.
"Milk you dry, did she?"
"Dry as a bone."
Morgan grinned.
"Maybe that new secretary of yours will get some dictation done today, then," he said with a leer.
Morgan knew that Fred was balling his secretary.
Fred said, "Naw, sexy as she is, I'll be as hard as a nail by the time I get to the office."
He drove on a ways, then said. "Thing is, I was asleep."
"What?"
"This morning. I was asleep. I thought I was having a wet dream, for crissake. Then I woke up when I came and, sure enough, old Jennifer was working away like a vacuum cleaner, gulping down mouthfuls of spunk. Nice! I guess I've been neglecting her, since I hired Jackie. Oh, well." He shrugged.