She began to roll the other stocking on.

The head of James' cock poked out of the fly of his shorts as it hardened.

He was staring at her big, stiff, succulent nipples and his mouth had started to water for them.

She shifted slightly.

He saw her cunt.

The slit was wet and parted. It bisected the dark pubic mound like a pink river running through a thick jungle. Her clit was as stiff as her nipples. He wondered if she had made herself hot simply by the act of rolling those stockings up her legs.

His prick slipped all the way out from his fly, standing like a baton before his belly – a big prick that reached almost to his breastbone when fully erect. His balls were large in proportion – which was why he wore boxer shorts, instead of constricting briefs.

He wondered if there was time for a fuck before the baby-sitter arrived.

They fucked a lot, Amanda and James. She was twenty-seven. He was thirty. They were both horny.

Usually, but not always, they fucked each other.

Amanda had fastened the other stocking. She was still not aware of her husband, standing in the doorway with a hard-on jutting from his shorts. She was looking down at her own body. She cupped one plump tit in her hand, lifting the mound as if judging its weight.

She smiled.

Her thumb slipped across the nipple, causing it to push out even more.

The sight thrilled James and his prick, fully erect now, started to thunder.

The knob was glowing with heat and had Amanda not been concentrating so hard on her own body, she would no doubt have seen that meaty slab flashing.

But when she was intent on her own charms, the narcissistic lady noticed little else.

Now – James gasped – she moved her hand down to her plump crotch, running the tip of her middle finger slowly up her wet, parted slit.

"Ummmm," she sighed.

She fucked her vibrant clit.