At fourteen minutes to nine, Laura and her husband had sex.

There was never very much in the way of foreplay - just a few perfunctory kisses and gropes before he slid into her. It was for the best; too much delay and he'd probably make a mess on the sheets. At least this way, he got inside.

Laura didn't generally feel much when he whipped his penis out; she had never associated it with pleasure or excitement. She didn't feel much when he stuck it in either, for her hubby hadn't been blessed with a large or even an average member.

But what he lacked in size, he made up for in speed. If he were to ever actually last, there was actually a chance even his puny excuse for a cock might have been enough to get his poor wife off. And fate wasn't kind enough, Laura thought bitterly, to give her that.

Ten pumps, she thought to herself. That was her game, the only amusement she ever got from their tragic excuse for a sex life. Guess whether he'll make it to ten pumps.

He didn't.

The digital clock had read 20:46 when her husband poked his weak cock into her; it still said the same when he slipped out, cock already softening and shrivelling, as he spent his load inside her unsatisfied pussy. You'd be forgiven for thinking the clock was broken, but no - he was just that fast. He moaned as he came, wheezing and panting as if he'd run a marathon instead of a half-minute sprint, then slumped down amongst the sheets. They hadn't even been particularly hard thrusts; she'd barely felt them.

And that was Laura's sex life. She'd done her research and found any number of tips and tricks to help her husband's little 'problem', but unfortunately for her, he'd refused to actually use them. The first step to fixing a problem is recognizing it for what it is, and his inflated male pride would not allow him to understand just how inadequate he really was.

As for other acts? Not a chance. He hadn't eaten her out in years, and if he'd ever heard of a clitoris, he'd certainly never gone looking for one. The only orgasms the neglected wife ever had, came after her husband had gone to sleep.

Until last night.

As she walked to the bathroom, the lovely, deprived brunette shivered as she remembered what had happened. How the next-door neighbour had pinned her to the wall and kissed her with a passion and assertiveness her own husband had never possessed, how he had lifted her in his arms and laid her down upon the table, how he had fucked her right, fucked her good. The thrill, the pounding of her heart as he reminded her what sex could be, should be, had been overwhelming; she had never come so hard, or so often, in her life. As she showered and rubbed herself to the orgasm her husband had never even tried to give her, she thought of the man next door and smiled.

It was the next evening when he came around again.

When it came to working, Laura's husband started and finished late, a stark contrast to his performance in the bedroom. The next-door neighbour returned home almost two hours earlier than he did, time which he and Laura made full, glorious use of.

"Finally," she breathed as he slipped in through the back door, and before she could say anything else, he had swept her into a fierce, forceful kiss. She responded passionately, desperately, with a need born of the knowledge that he could bring her the pleasure she had been denied for so long.

Laura's husband didn't like it when she looked too sexy. Her trousers were baggy, her shirt was too large, and she didn't wear much makeup. Her underwear was bland and functional, drab bras and cotton panties. Hubby knew on some level that if other men lusted after his wife, there was no way he could compete, so he tried to control anything which showed off her beauty. No sexy dresses, no pretty outfits. Not that he could have handled them anyway. But she had never stood a chance of escaping the neighbour's eye.

Off came the shirt, the trousers, the bra. Huge breasts with dark tips bounced in the cool air of the kitchen, zaftig hips wiggling as he slid a hand between her legs and touched the enormous damp spot where her needy pussy soaked through its cotton prison. Warm, smooth, sweet-smelling skin pressed against him as he studied a face which needed no makeup to be beautiful, a face whose lustful expression was plain to see.

"Take me," she begged him softly. "Make me yours."

So he swept her off her feet and did just that.

After carrying her easily up the stairs, he lay her down on her marital bed. Then he ripped off his clothes. Her breath caught to see his cock spring loose - a real cock, she thought, far longer and thicker than her hubby's puny member. But most importantly, one which lasts. As her hands stroked it, a little clumsily from lack of practice, she reflected that her husband never got this hard. And that if he did, it would only be as a prelude to an immediate orgasm. Instead, the man next door's lust was tempered, controlled.

His hands roamed over her body, making her shiver with joy. Years stuck with a worthless partner seemed to have given her a strange analogue to his inadequacy: in a truly thrilling situation like this, even the slightest stimulation brought her near-uncontrollable joy. Her moans were music to her lover's ears as he teased her pussy through her panties, and when he finally pulled them down, the cool air on her slit almost did it for her then and there.

Then he went down on her, and that did do it.

"God!" she shrieked as the feel of his lips on her clit made her cum. Her thick thighs wrapped around his head and he went to town, tongue lashing at her soaking pussy and delighting in its overflowing arousal. Her orgasm was a long, loud, shuddering thing, and he ate her through it only to keep going. With a deft tongue and swift fingers, he worked on her lovely cunt, homed in on the clitoris and treated it right. Before she knew what was going on, Laura was coming again, her body wracked with orgasmic joy.

His kisses trailed down one leg and up the other, his hands rubbing and caressing. Then they slid to her hips and pulled the neglected wife towards him. She squeaked in surprise to find him atop her, pinning her down, throbbing cock positioned at the tingling entrance to her pussy.

"I need to be fucked," she whispered.

So she got fucked.

His first stroke pierced her deeper and stretched her wider than her own so-called man ever could, and she held him then, whimpering in joy. Her eyes drifted to the electric clock by her bedside and she saw the time reflected there as he slid out of her, the sudden emptiness drawing a needy moan from her lips.

18:16.

Then the man next door thrust again, and all she could focus on was him.

When he went down on her, he was all finesse, but when he fucked her, he was all force. She clung to him like a limpet as that steel-strong cock started to pound away, each powerful thrusting motion bringing with it a new jolt of pleasure. She thought back to the night before, to her game of Ten Thrusts, and laughed.

"Hm?" The neighbour raised an eyebrow at the giggles between her pleasured cries.

"Last...night, haha, he only made it...eight strokes!" At that, he started to fuck her faster.

"They weren't even, ooh, hard ones!" At that, he started to fuck her rougher.

"I like to, oh god, see if he can, oh fuck, if he can make it to ten!" By that point, her lover had easily passed fifty. And he was just getting started.

As it happened, Laura didn't make it to ten herself. Not in minutes, that is. Seven minutes of hard, vigorous thrusting was all it took for the man next door to turn her into a quivering mess once again. She screamed as she came for a third time that night, her fingernails drawing blood. And much to her surprise, her lover pulled out once she was done.

"Ride me," he commanded. Laura flushed. Of course, she was so used to lying there and taking her husband's weak pumps that she wasn't used to being active. What a silly girl she was being! She looked at her lover's cock and wanted to please it, to rock his world like he was rocking hers. So, straddling his waist, she mounted his strong, stiff penis and slammed her hips down for all she was worth. A grunt of pleasure told her she was doing the right thing, and she began to bounce vigorously on the neighbour's pulsing member.

Her big tits bounced crazily in his face, her wide hips gyrating as she took his cock for a ride. And what a ride it was, his own hips still sending that capable cock stabbing up into her soaking wet married pussy. She thrilled at the sensation of a powerful man between her legs, a wild and bucking source of strength. Even grinding her bum against her hubby, she knew, would make the little sissy have an accident in his boxers.

How many times, she wondered? How many times would her husband have to stick his weak cock in to match her studly lover? How many dozens, hundreds of times, to equal one round with the man next door? What a stupid question, she reflected as she looked back over her orgasm-dry marriage. No number of times would be enough.

The desperate sexual energy that had been bottled up so long came exploding out of her as she rode, and the raging bull beneath her kept up without fail. She lost track of time, fucking until she came again, then reversing the position so he could see her lovely fat bum bouncing as he reached around and fondled her tits. She fucked until she was breathless and exhausted, and then, as if sensing she was at her limit, her lover growled and called her name.

"Laura!" He sent his seed pouring inside her like a torrent, gripping her curvy frame hard and filling her pussy to the brim. Every stab sent cum surging deep, hot and thick, pushing her hubby's watery sperm aside. And when they slumped down beside one another, her eyes drifted to the clock once again.

19:35.

You'd think it was broken, but no. Their tryst had gone on that long.

"You absolute stallion," she whispered admiringly. When he got back to his wife, who was counting down the days to her weekend girls' night with the nice lady next door, she said something pretty similar.

Meanwhile, Laura had her work cut out to shower and air out the room before her hubby got back. When he did, she couldn't help but feel afraid. Surely he'd see her flushed features and her stiff legs? Surely he'd notice that her pussy had been messed up, in ways his pathetic excuse for sex could never achieve?

Somehow, Laura had actually overestimated her wimpy excuse of a hubby.

When he got into bed that night, his dick was only at half-mast. She didn't know it, but he, too, was being unfaithful. But whereas she cheated out of a need for the sex her partner couldn't provide, his situation was much more pathetic.

The cute intern at work had found a surefire way to net herself a full-time job, stroking her boss to a nice, quick orgasm. He liked to think she saw him as an established, attractive man, not like the young and inexperienced boy he'd dismissed in favour of her. In reality, of course, she simply liked how it only took her a fourty-second handjob to secure her position...and the 'boy' she'd beaten for the role had both her number and a dick that could please her.

You'd think that having already cum once would have done something for the cuckold's stamina. Instead, it simply meant he could barely stay hard as he struggled to fuck his beautiful wife. After eleven dismal, flopping pokes, he pulled out and started to jerk himself, trying to squeeze some life into his pathetic excuse for a manhood. Instead, he came, still half-flaccid, sending a weak and tiny load splurting over the front of a pussy he could not hope to satisfy. Then he slumped down and fell, snoring, to sleep, never noticing the signs that a better man had been there first.

At least he made it to ten for once.