Trophy Wife's Trophy

Dan made his way back to Marc and the others, who were still discussing the upcoming baseball season. When he saw Mrs. Harrington lean into her husband and whisper something in his ear, Dan asked Marc where the bathrooms were, his eyes still on Mrs. Harrington's supple body as she cupped a hand on Mr. Harrington's face and kissed him on the cheek. She then quickly departed the tent.

Dan followed Marc's directions to the bathroom, which was located in the main house, and relieved himself. But when he stepped back onto the patio, instead of walking straight out toward the tent, he turned sharply left and circled around the back of the house. When he reached the other side, he located a gravel path, bordered on both sides by the same white fencing that otherwise occupied the estate, that led out a few hundred yards to the stables.

Bright stars from above illuminated the otherwise darkened path, and the sounds of the band and the party quickly receded behind him. Halfway out to the stables, he stopped and looked behind him, but saw no one, and continued on his way toward the stables.

Several open doorways led into the interior of the stables, revealing rows and rows of stalls. He heard the whinnying of the horses, and saw a few equine heads jut from their stalls, but no sign of Mrs. Harrington. As he continued along the front of the stables, a single light above a window-paned door was lit. Looking in, Dan discovered the tack room. Mrs. Harrington was leaning against a work table, a glass of champagne dangling in one hand, an unopened bottle of champagne in the other. A single industrial light mounted to the side of the table provided the only illumination in the room.

Before entering, he paused for just a moment to take in her figure. She still wore the open-toed heels that highlighted the well-toned musculature of her long, tanned legs. Leaning against the table as she was, her pale yellow sundress was pushed up a little on her hips, wrinkling the fabric across her crotch. She turned a little to her left, away from Dan, to place the champagne bottle on the table behind her, the movement causing the fabric of her dress to stretch across her large breasts. Her nipples visibly tented the dress, and it appeared to Dan that she may have removed her bra (if she was ever wearing one in the first place).

His cock began to lengthen in his pants, and he could feel the heat from its head against the inside of his thigh. Dan knocked slightly at the door and pushed it open. Mrs. Harrington turned toward him, taking a sip of champagne from the glass still held in her right hand. "I'm glad you found me, our man Dan."

Dan stood in the doorway. "'Our man, Dan'? I thought it was 'my boy-toy Dan,' or something to that effect."

Mrs. Harrington merely smiled, and took another shot of champagne down her elegant, tanned throat. "Did you see the horses in their stalls on your way in?" she asked in a soft voice, brushing her long brown hair from her face, the diamond on her finger sparkling in the dim light.

"Hmm-mmm."

"Then you've seen most of the stables. I could show you the hay loft, but there's nothing really to see up there. The only thing left is the tack room, and here you are." Mrs. Harrington shifted slightly, turning her enticing body toward him.

Dan looked around, taking it all in. It was a large room, probably twenty feet wide by thirty feet deep. Saddles – both English and Western – were mounted along the walls, along with reins and helmets and other accoutrements for horse-back riding. There were three or four stands upon which were mounted saddles, presumably in the process of repair. A number of worktables were placed about the floor, some empty, others holding a saddle or a stack of horseshoes or covered in horse brushes. One of the tables, of course, held a bottle of champagne and the lovely Mrs. Harrington.

She pushed herself away from the table and crooked a manicured finger at Dan, beckoning him to follow. "We keep all the equipment in here. Saddles and reins and such," she said, beginning to circle the room, a long manicured finger pointing along the walls. "The stable hands use these tables," she continued, gesturing, "to repair saddles and reins, or to pound out horseshoes." Dan followed Mrs. Harrington as she circled the room.

She came to a stop along the wall opposite from where Dan had entered, and he came up behind her, placing his hands on her hips. A low moan escaped her throat, and she leaned back into him. Dan's hands moved around her and his arms encircled her, resting across her firm stomach. Mrs. Harrington rested her head on his shoulder, tilting it away from him and exposing her tanned neck. He leaned down and placed light kisses along it.

"Mmmmm," he heard her moan. "That feels delicious," she said, almost under her breath.

Dan continued to kiss Mrs. Harrington along her neck, and his hands rubbed light circles over her taut stomach. He could hear the rustle of his fingers across the fabric of her sundress as his hands traveled up her stomach and bumped against the underside of her heavy breasts. She lifted her left arm and placed it behind Dan's head, pulling him closer to her neck. He could feel her long, manicured nails as they massaged his scalp.

The scent of her had Dan's cock throbbing in his pants. It had thickened and lengthened such that it was now uncomfortable. "You taste wonderful, Mrs. Harrington," he whispered in her ear, blowing hot breath as he did. Dan's hands moved up further on her torso and cupped her firm breasts, squeezing them, before running the palms of his hands across her erect nipples.

This stimulation caused her to increase the urgency with which she massaged Dan's scalp, pulling his face tighter against her neck. Needing to relieve the uncomfortable position of his cock, Dan lightly rubbed his crotch against Mrs. Harrington's backside, hoping to coax his shaft into a better place.

"Oh my god," she whispered, quickly breaking his embrace and turning around. Mrs. Harrington threw her arms around Dan's neck and pulled his face into hers. He saw her shiny red lips part before they disappeared from his view, and then felt her hot, wet tongue dive between his lips, exploring the interior of his warm mouth. Their lips mashed together, leaving streaks of red on his, smearing the red on hers.

Mrs. Harrington let an arm drop from around Dan's neck, but kept one hand on the back of his head, ensuring that their lips remained in contact, their tongues dueling out of sight. Her now-free hand dropped between them, and quickly found Dan's stiff shaft. She rubbed it a few times through the fabric of his pants, and groaned into his mouth when she felt it jump in her hand. "I need this thing inside me," she moaned, the words muffled through the seal of their lips.

Her long fingers found first the belt buckle, then the button, and then the zipper of his pants, moving frantically from one obstacle to the next, easily overcoming each. Dan kicked his shoes off as Mrs. Harrington dropped his pants and boxers to his ankles. All obstacles to his cock now removed, Mrs. Harrington's cool fingers gripped the shaft tightly, tugging it to and fro, as Dan eased her back against the wall, between two stacks of saddles on their mounts.

When Mrs. Harrington's back hit the wall, Dan reached down and roughly pulled the hem of her sundress up and over her hips. With his fingers he sought to move the cloth of her panties or thong aside, but found that Mrs. Harrington was without. "No panties, huh, Mrs. Harrington?" he breathed into her mouth, their lips still locked in passionate embrace, tongues sliding over one another.

"Didn't want them . . . to get in the way," she panted back. Dan cupped his hand, and lightly rubbed Mrs. Harrington's hairless vagina. Fluid leaked discretely from between her labia, lubricating Dan's efforts. After a few strokes, her labia parted, and a surge of juice covered Dan's hand and fingers. Mrs. Harrington was breathing heavily into Dan's mouth now, and her lips and tongue seemed to have lost their rhythm. Dan allowed a finger to slip between her labia and into the overheated confines of her vagina, and she gasped, tossing her head back against the wood-plank wall with an audible crack.

When Dan removed his finger, it slid upward along the lips of her vagina and passed lightly over her exposed and now-engorged clitoris. Mrs. Harrington's head lolled from side-to-side and Dan planted wet kisses along her collar bone and at the top of her cleavage. "Yes, yes, yes," she chanted as Dan's finger continued to manipulate her clitoris. "Put it in me, Dan," she whispered. "I need you to fuck me."

Dan's finger slipped from her clitoris, and he leaned down and grabbed the back of Mrs. Harrington's thighs, lifting her from her feet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs spread involuntarily, and Dan moved between them, pinning her against the wall of the tack room. He felt the shaft of his cock slide against her wet vagina as Mrs. Harrington's legs locked behind his back. She reached between them with one hand and positioned Dan's cock vertically so that it was nestled in the folds of her bald pussy.

When she had put her arm back around Dan's neck and was secure in her embrace, Dan thrust up and down several times, ensuring that his shaft was fully lubricated in Mrs. Harrington's juices. His hands slid up to her ass, cradling it in his palms. In this position, Dan was able to hold her steady, and he pulled back a little. His cock slid down her slick vaginal lips and paused at the entrance to her pussy. "Please, Dan," she whimpered. "Slide it in me. Fuck me with your young, fat cock," she begged.

Dan slowly pushed his pelvis forward, and felt the head of his cock part Mrs. Harrington's saturated pussy lips. "Uuuggghhh," she breathed, and Dan's lips again found hers, pressing hard against her, his tongue invading her silky, champagne-tinged mouth. He pulled back once again, and this time pushed forward with more force. The head of his cock burrowed further in Mrs. Harrington's hole, and with a few more shoves, she was impaled on him to the root, his pubic hair tickling her exposed clit.

Mrs. Harrington's eyes eased open as Dan again extracted his cock from the tight confines of Tom Harrington' wife. "Oohh, ggodd," she moaned into his mouth. "You're stretching me, Dan." Her tongue struck fiercely within Dan's mouth, moving all about.

Pounding back into her, nailing Mrs. Harrington's naked ass to the wall of the tack room, Dan pulled his mouth from hers. "I thought . . . it was . . . boy-toy . . . Mrs. Harrington," he breathed.

Dan slowly withdrew his cock again, pulling the outer folds of her cunt lips with it. "Oh, fuck," she murmured. "That's exactly what you are." Dan slammed back into her, crushing her exposed clit between their pelvic bones, causing her to squeal in delight. "Aaahhhhhh," she almost screamed, her head rolling from side-to-side in obvious ecstasy. "Fuck me . . . my . . . boy-toy . . . Fuck my . . . tight . . . hole," she managed to sputter.

Dan again thrust into Mrs. Harrington's tightly gripping vagina, but this time did not let up. He pistoned his cock roughly in and out of her, feeling her legs tighten around his waist, her calves and heels bouncing against his bare ass. Her moans alternated between "aaahhhs" and "ooohhhs" and "uuummms." Every three or four thrusts, Dan held his cock deep within her, grinding his pelvic bone against her throbbing clit. Mrs. Harrington began to sweat profusely. It collected at her collarbone and dripped between her still covered breasts. He felt it sliding down her back and lightly covering her firm ass, almost causing him to lose his grip on her tight cheeks.

Not wanting to drop her, Dan slowed his onslaught and withdrew his shaft from her slippery pussy. "Noooo!" she whined when she felt Dan's cock pop from within her. "Put it back in," she begged. When Dan lowered her to her feet, still clad in the sexy Manolo's, she pulled him tighter against her lithe body, nearly humping one of his thighs, one hand encircling the shaft that was soaked in her juices, brutally stroking it. Her tongue found his, and she moaned into him. "Why . . . did you . . . pull out?" she whimpered between tongue slashes. "I want you . . . back in . . . my cunt . . . fucking me," she mewled, her voice cracking.

"Over here, Mrs. Harrington," Dan ordered, pushing her toward one of the freestanding saddle mounts. She eagerly complied, and Dan followed her across the room, her heels clicking along the hardwood planks of the floor. When she reached the saddle mount, she turned around and, placing her lean hands on the Western-style saddle, lifted herself up.

When Dan approached, Mrs. Harrington went to pull him into her, but Dan moved quicker, instead gripping one of her lean thighs in his hand and swinging it over the saddle so that she was sitting backward in it. Her sundress bunched up around her trim hips, and her bald cunt left a trail of feminine juice along the tan leather surface of the saddle. "Climb on, boy-toy," she trilled, trying her best to vamp it up.

Dan unbuttoned the top two or three buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Discarding it on a nearby worktable, he swung a leg over the saddle, settling down so that he was facing her, the head of his cock resting against her tan belly. "Like this?" Dan responded, wedging each of his knees beneath her own so that she was almost straddling him.

"No," she said, again throwing her arms around his neck. She pulled herself up and lifted her ass off the saddle so that her hairless cunt hovered over Dan's erect cock. "Like this." Mrs. Harrington moved her hips down, feeling the overheated head of Dan's cock bump against her pussy lips, and then readjusted so that the shaft would part her tender folds. When she was positioned just right, she dropped her hips and threw her head back as she impaled herself on Dan's shaft in one, swift stroke. "Aaahhh, just like this."

Mrs. Harrington tightened her grip around Dan's neck, shoving her large breasts in his face. He licked across the top of her cleavage, leaving a wet trail of saliva on the soft, darkened skin. As Mrs. Harrington pulled herself up and off the invading phallus, Dan ducked his head and his lips found a distended nipple through the pale yellow fabric of her sundress. He kept his lips locked on the nipple as she once again skewered her sopping cunt on his cock, one hand firmly gripping the breast, the other behind her, squeezing her ass. "Yyyeeesss," Mrs. Harrington hissed. "Sooo . . . fucking . . . ggoooodd."

Wanting to feel the growing nipple in his mouth sans sundress, Dan removed his lips from it. "Pull this thing down, Mrs. Harrington," he barely managed to croak out. With Dan holding her lithe little body in place, she quickly pulled a strap off one shoulder and then the other, leaving the entirety of her sundress bunched around her waist.

She leaned back, placing her small hands on the front edge of the saddle, her sexy body arching up and down as she rode Dan's thick cock. "Jesus Christ," Dan muttered, his eyes locked on Mrs. Harrington's 36-D breasts. They were full and firm, yet somehow soft nonetheless. They barely wobbled on her torso, moving in rhythm to her own lust-filled motions. Thick, pink nipples topped them off, jutting one-half to three-quarters of an inch from the areola. Unlike the rest of her body, the skin of her breasts was bright white, surrounded by a crisp tan line. But like the rest of her, her tits shone with a heavy sheen of sweat; rivulets of it ran through the valley formed by her mesmerizing tits. "Fucking amazing, Mrs. Harrington," he muttered.

When he tore his gaze from her bobbling tits, Dan found Mrs. Harrington's dazzling green eyes staring directly at him; the lust behind them was unmistakable. "You like . . . calling me . . . Mrs. Harrington . . . don't you?" she asked through almost clenched teeth, her cunt still stroking on Dan's engorged cock.

Dan returned her stare. "Yes," he managed to grunt.

"Why?" she groaned in return.

"It . . . it excites me." Dan leaned into Mrs. Harrington, his hands cupping her shaking tits, his fingers playing over her nipples. Shifting like this, Mrs. Harrington's cunt was now beneath him, and Dan assumed the burden (if one could call it that) of thrusting into her.

"Because I'm . . . an older . . . woman or . . . because I'm . . . married?" Mrs. Harrington's shimmering eyes remained locked on his, and she jammed her pelvis back against him.

"Both," he sputtered, his cock twitching inside her, his fingers tightening their grip on her pulsing nipples. Mrs. Harrington took a sharp breath as Dan's fingers twisted her nipples in opposite directions.

"Yyyeeesss," she hissed, her lips twisting themselves into a lustful snarl. "Twist them, boy-toy! Punish my nipples!" Dan twisted harder, nearly cranking his wrist one-hundred-eighty degrees, and Mrs. Harrington's head fell back. A guttural scream spilled from her smeared lips: "Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!"

When Dan release her nipples, allowing them to return to their natural shape and position, she again raised herself above Dan, and began violently slamming her tight cunt onto his piercing cock, grunting every time she felt his pelvic bone smash into her inflamed clit. Dan's hands circled around her, grabbing the firm cheeks of her ass, pulling them apart. He dipped his head and pulled a thick nipple between his lips, his teeth scraping across the sensitive flesh.

"Oohh, ggaawwdd," Mrs. Harrington breathed. "I love . . . your teeth . . . on my nipples . . . . Bite 'em." Dan's teeth clamped lightly on the distended nipple, and she shuddered above him, chills shooting up her spine and into her brain. She ground herself even tighter against Dan's invading shaft, feeling his pubic hair crinkle and crush against her engorged clit.

Dan, for his part, began thrusting back at the rutting woman. He wasn't fucking her, and she wasn't fucking him. They were fucking each other, their pelvic bones crashing into each other with such force that the impact brutally crushed Mrs. Harrington's fiery clit between them, causing her to wince each time. She was not wincing in pain, but in that unique pleasure-pain that can be found only with acts of sexual depravity.

"Fuck me, boy-toy! Fuck Mrs. Harrington's wet hole!" she wailed. Dan hammered his cock into her yielding cunt so vigorously that Mrs. Harrington realized they were inching toward the front of the saddle. One thrust, two thrusts, a third, and she felt the saddle horn press against her exposed asshole.

Her eyes shot open at the foreign intrusion. "Stop," she gasped, slowing the movement of her hips. "I'm almost . . . on the horn. . . . Move back," she whispered. Instead of moving back, Dan jammed his cock into her as hard as he could, watching Mrs. Harrington's gorgeous face as she was pushed harder against the saddle horn. "Oh, god," she cried out. "What are you . . . you doing?"

Dan's hands, still on her ass cheeks, pulled them further apart, shaking them. Sweat rolled off her body. Mrs. Harrington felt the rough leather of the horn tickling her crinkled anus. Dan's teeth on her nipple, now raw, left her breathless. He slammed into her again, pushing her body up on the horn. As tight as Mrs. Harrington's asshole was, it couldn't hold her weight, and she felt the scarred leather part her anal ring, and she let out a shriek.

Dan slowed his thrusting to an easy rhythm as Mrs. Harrington hovered on the abyss of double penetration, inanimate as half of it might be. "Want me to pull you off, Mrs. Harrington?" he taunted the middle-aged wife, removing his teeth from her abused nipple.

"Yes," she whimpered. "Please take it out." But when the fingers of one of Dan's hand gently massaged the ring that the horn was about to fully violate, Mrs. Harrington's eyes closed, and she let a low moan escape from her throat. Dan slowly – agonizingly, in her view – slid his cock from the tight sheath of her cunt, leaving only the tip ensconced between the tight but slick folds.