by Ben Boswell
“Ooh, that’s so dirty,” she cooed.
A masculine laugh. Then a deep, firm voice, “Just like you are, my sweet.”
She giggled. Then she answered with a firm, “No.” Another giggle ruined the effect.
“You know you’re going to.”
She shook her head. “Nuh uh.” She lifted up her wrists. “You don’t have me tied up right now, so I can resist you this time.”
Mike. She was Skyping with Mike.
She was still dressed in her work clothes -- a short, ruffled, navy blue skirt that ended above her knees and gave a tease of her creamy, white thighs, and a sheer white blouse that allowed a hint of her lacy, white bra, and generous cleavage to peek through. An outfit that was at once irreproachably professional, and yet also deliciously provocative. Normally she’d have changed into jeans or yoga pants and a tee shirt upon getting home, and I wondered whether she’d chosen not to this evening because she knew she’d be video-chatting with a man this evening.
“But you don’t want to resist me,” he replied confidently.
“You don’t know what I want,” she challenged.
“You know I do.” He paused and then added, “Show me.”
“No.” Another giggle. “And what if Bill walks in on me?”
He laughed. “So much the better, right?”
“No.” And then another, fucking, infuriating giggle.
“It’s cute the way you play hard to get only when I can’t get at you anyway. If I was in the same room as you, you’d already be naked and sucking my cock.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Probably. But you’re not in the same room, so what’s the point?”
“Because I want to see it. I want a tease of what I’m going to get tomorrow night.”
Tomorrow night? Did she have another date with him? She hadn’t mentioned that.
“I never agreed to that,” she noted.
“You will.”
She smirked. “Maybe…. Or maybe I’m busy.”
“What, with that meathead?”
“Meathead with a huge prick,” Terri corrected.
“That’s not enough for you.”
She chuckled. “True that. Luckily he also has muscles to die for, an adorable face, and is young enough to reload in minutes.”
I smiled involuntarily. There was something oddly reassuring about the way she was busting Mike’s balls too. Mike didn’t seem to agree.
“Fuck him,” he grumbled.
“Is that an order? A suggestion? What?” she smirked.
“You know the real reason I gag you?” he asked. “You talk too much otherwise. Now, show me your cunt.”
“Or what?”
He laughed darkly. “Don’t worry, Slut, your backtalk has already earned you a major punishment the next time I see you.”
“Oooh, that sounds scary.”
He didn’t reply. I could see her watching the screen intently. What was he doing? Scowling at her angrily? Playing with himself? Demonstrating to her some instrument of torture he planned to use on her?
“Cunt. Now,” he finally ordered.
She hesitated. I could see her playing through the options in her mind. It’s funny because that was a part of it that I couldn’t see when she was doing it to me. When I was on the other end of the conversation, all I could do was react. But observing her messing with Mike I caught the nuances, the pauses as she considered which choice would most inflame him without pushing him over the edge. I wondered how much of that was really calculated, and how much was an instinct for manipulating men.
“Only if you say please.” Her eyes were shining, challenging.
I imagined him on the other end, scowling probably, trying to contain his anger. Or maybe not. Maybe he was in on the game as well, suppressing a grin as he sought to maintain his dominant persona.
“Show me your cunt, you stupid whore,” he growled before adding, almost as an afterthought, “please.”
She grinned. I thought I could read her mind. Well played, Mike. Well played.
“Okay, since you asked so nicely.”
She pushed back her chair and stood up. She took a step back to center herself better in the camera. She shot a quick glance at the cracked open door, and even though I knew I was too far back in the shadows to be spotted, I shrank back further. For a second, I thought she might pause the proceeding to actually shut the door completely, but she didn’t.
Instead, she reached down with both hands and grabbed ahold of the hem of her skirt. She smiled saucily as she slowly slid the fabric back and forth across her thighs, slowly, slowly raising it higher and higher, a slow motion version of a Can-Can dancer’s tease.
He remained mute, eagerly, I’m sure, watching the progress of her skirt, enjoying both the growing expansion of skin on display and probably even more the power he had over this sexy, married woman.
She edged her legs apart slightly, her hands brushing against her inner thighs. I wondered if this turned her on as well. But of course it did. She loved her power over men and relished the opportunity to strip. It wasn’t just a show for Mike. Her thighs were probably tingling and sensitive, a true erogenous zone, and not just because of their proximity to her pussy, but also because of the association with sex. It’s the thighs a woman spreads to give a man access. It’s there that she feels the weight of his body, his hunger for her as he thrusts inside her.
Still higher, and I, and Mike, caught a glimpse of her sheer, white, lace panties. So sexy against her pale skin. I thought I could catch the pink of her swollen sex, and I could definitely see the red of her rose tattoo midway between her pussy and her hip bone.
I expected her to pause, to make Mike demand more, but she’d already taunted him as much as she planned to apparently. Holding her skirt up at her waist with one hand, she reached down with the other and pulled aside her panties, exposing her puffy lips. She began slowly massaging herself with two fingers, slow circles that gradually opened her up more fully and allowed herself access to her pink, glistening fold.
“Show me your cock,” she breathed.
He didn’t reply, but her eyes widened and she bit her lip, and I knew that he was exposing himself to her as well.
“You want to suck on this, don’t you?” he asked.
She unconsciously licked her lips. “Yes,” she breathed softly.
She rubbed herself faster.
“Tits too,” he rumbled.
No protest from her this time. She quickly undid the next two buttons on her blouse, and without removing her bra, pulled out her large breasts before beginning again to play with her snatch.
“Fuck you’re hot,” he said.
She smiled. “So are you.”
“You going to make yourself come?”
“Uh huh,” she sighed.
“Thinking about what I’m going to do to you tomorrow?”
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked.
I realized she’d now agreed to meet him after all. And then a moment later, I realized she’d always planned to.
“Make you pay for being such a tease,” he replied.
She rubbed herself faster.
“Come for me,” she moaned.
She was almost there, and I realized that she’d been hugely worked up even before she started touching herself. She was glowing. Her nipples hard, areolas puffy. She licked her lips again.
“Nuh uh,” he grunted. “I’m just churning up a nice big load for your mouth tomorrow.”
“Oh God.”
Her fingers disappeared deep inside her and she shuddered. Her knees seemed to buckle and she staggered a little with the force of her orgasm.
“Lick ‘em clean,” he ordered.
She complied without hesitation, sucking her slick, shiny fingers into her mouth.
“Good girl,” he said patronizingly. “You have that address I gave you.”
She nodded, but seemed still too dazed to actually respond.
“Don’t be
late,” he said tersely.
She reached back and pulled her chair beneath her. Dropping down heavily into the seat, she grabbed the mouse and shut the Skype window. She continued to gaze blankly at the screen, but it was obvious her mind was elsewhere… in Mike’s apartment perhaps, with his restraints and kinky imagination. Or in Brian’s bed, there with Cynthia and Brian’s huge prick. Or somewhere else. Who knew? Somewhere, anywhere but where she really was.
She cast another quick glance in my direction, and then expertly pulled herself back together. She was once again her usual sexy but demure self, a million miles away from the slut she’d been moments before, with her tits hanging out, and her fingers jammed up her wet twat as she jerked off for a man on the other end of a webcam. She pushed back from the desk.
I backpedaled down the hallway and padded down the stairs as quickly as I could without giving away my location.
Standing at the top of the stairs, Terri called down to me.
“Are you coming to bed honey?”
I took a deep breath to steady myself. “Be right there.”
I waited a couple of minutes and then went back upstairs. Entering the bedroom, I found her reading in bed in one of my favorite outfits. It wasn’t sexy lingerie. Actually, it was a quite conventional pair of light cotton, flower print PJs, but there was something about the way she filled them out that was incongruous and undeniably erotic. Maybe it was that the legs were cut a little wide, giving me a peek at her inner thighs. Or perhaps that the fabric was sheer enough that her nipples poked through even when they weren’t particularly erect. Or maybe just those PJs, or others like them, were the ones I most associated with our lovemaking, back before the revelations and the madness... the delicious, devastating, addictive madness.
She smiled up at me.
“Get your work done?”
For a moment I forgot that was what I was ostensibly doing downstairs, shut up and away from her. “Um… yeah. Well… most of it.”
She grinned, seeing right through me.
“What were you up to?” I asked.
She shrugged. “This and that.”
Tit for tat. A lie for a lie. If you won’t come clean, Bill, neither will I.
I ducked into the bathroom and splashed some water on my face and brushed my teeth. When I came back out she put down her book.
“You want to read or sleep?”
“Um --”
“Or door number three?” she offered.
“I… um….”
“Don’t worry Bill. You don’t have to withhold sex just to get me to play with other men.”
“I know,” I snorted.
“What do you know?” she challenged.
“What don’t I know?” I shot back.
She laughed. “Oh good. I was worried I wouldn’t have the opportunity to talk in riddles anymore.”
I remained stubbornly mute.
She waited a moment and then cleared her throat. “I’m seeing Mike tomorrow night.”
“And when were you going to tell me?”
She smiled. “Probably while we were making love. Kick it up a notch.”
“Or maybe take advantage of me while my resolve is compromised.”
“Well,” she noted. “You don’t seem compromised now. Do you want me to break my date?”
“You’d like that. It would show you as the mature, reasonable one willing to sacrifice for the relationship and me as the jealous, controlling jerk.”
“Not at all, Honey. To tell you the truth, I’m actually quite looking forward to seeing Mike again. Even you have to admit, he’s got a knack for pushing the envelope.”
“Well, there you have it,” I said. “At least now you’re admitting your desires.”
“I never denied them,” she replied.
I opened my mouth to protest, but realized she was right. She was always careful to distinguish between wants and needs. I closed my mouth again. She smirked.
“Okay, Bill, so if you’re not willing to deny me another evening with Mike, maybe you’d like to at least set limits on things.”
I hesitated. Every conversation with Terri now seemed littered with carefully concealed landmines.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, maybe there are certain things you wouldn’t want me to do with him. Things I should reserve for you, maybe.”
I snorted. “What would that be? Seems like you’ve already given him everything.”
She smiled, and bam I realized I’d stepped on a landmine.
“Now, Bill, that isn’t true. I mean, yes, I’ve sucked his cock….”
Had she ever! I thought what I’d heard and seen. Of how after they’d had sex for the first time, she dropped to her knees and sucked his slimy prick to thank him for fucking her so well. Of the time he’d strung her up and face fucked her until he blew a load all over her pretty face.
“...and he’s had my pussy…”
I thought of him taking her from behind, doggy-style, hard, his thumb in her ass; of her on her back, wrists bound to ankles, open, vulnerable, his prick churning mercilessly into her defenseless pussy.
“...and my ass.”
His fingers, his tongue, and then finally his cock plunging into her tight, little anus, leaving her gasping, face contorted with pain and also excitement. I shifted my feet awkwardly, trying, and failing, to hide my growing erection.
“But,” she continued, “I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface of Mike’s kinks. Do you?”
“I don’t know.”
“But surely you have your own imagination. Things you think he might want to do to me. Things you’d like to do, maybe, but can’t bring yourself to.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
She fixed me with a piercing gaze as if she were trying to peer into my soul. “I don’t know, Bill. I sometimes think this is somehow about you opening me up to… something?”
“Like what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re tormented, but you won’t pull the plug, which suggests some ulterior motive. So I keep thinking that… well, at some point, I’ll do something with one of them and you’ll say, ‘Aha! Now I can do this too.’”
I shook my head.
She chuckled ruefully. “Oh, that’s right. This isn’t about you at all. It is all about me. My needs. My wants. Yours don’t play a part. You’re a martyr in all of this.”
“I’m not a martyr,” I replied. “Although….”
She pounced. “Although what?”
“What? You want me to pretend that this is easy for me? That this is what I really want.”
“Then stop it. Just say the word and I’ll cancel my date tomorrow.”
I snorted and thought about her Skyping with Mike just minutes earlier. About how she’d exposed herself to him, and masturbated for him. So eager, so… accommodating. At best, she was fooling herself. At worst, she was trying to fool me.
“That’s your choice,” I said for what felt like the thousandth time.
She sighed in exasperation. “Fine, Bill. Fine.”
Then surprisingly, she yanked off her top, exposing her glorious boobs. A quick squirm and her bottoms came off as well.
“Come on, Honey,” she taunted, “as long as your dick is hard half-fantasizing and half-dreading my date with Mike, you might as well put it to some use.”
“Not like this,” I grumbled.
She smiled and then quickly flipped over onto her hands and knees. She waved her tight little ass at me, her shaved snatch pink and glistening. I knew she still wet from Mike, and I could just ram it in. It made me furious, but at the same time, it was irresistible.
“How about like this?” she teased.
What was that song from when I was a kid?
Now I know I should say "No"
But that's kind of hard when she's ready to go
I may be dumb but I'm not a dweeb
I'm just a sucker with no self esteem
I fumbled with my pants and climbed onto the bed. She thrust her ass back in my direction as I lunged towards her. She reached between her legs and deftly guided my prick into her steaming hole. Even that enraged me. No normal woman should have been so skilled at handling an aggressive cock. I entered her roughly. She moaned in pleasure. Another dagger to my heart.
She seemed to read my mind. “That’s it, Baby, fuck me like the whore you think I am.”
“You are a whore,” I grunted.
“You’re… ugh... thinking of… ugh... Mike… ugh… fucking me,” she gasped. “I can… ugh… tell.”
“No,” I grunted.
But I was. Except I knew he’d be doing it even rougher. Spanking her. Exploring her butthole with his fingers. Pinching her nipples until she screamed. Screamed into the gag he’d put in her mouth. Yanking back on her hair and palming her throat. Not just the way Mike fucked her, but Chucky and Jean-Pierre and Brian as well.
“Let go,” she said.
For a second I was confused. And then I realized what she wanted. For me to give in to my swirling emotions. To just…. But even the thought of it made me feel preemptively guilty, like I had every time I’d gone over the line.
Fuck it. This time I’m going to do. Just take what I want.
But then, I couldn’t do it. It just felt… wrong.
I slowed and Terri groaned in disappointment.
There was a line I couldn’t cross. It was, I realized, my line, not hers. My wife didn’t have a line. Or if she did, it was so far removed from mine as to be invisible. I didn’t want this. Instead, what I wanted was something that was both less and more.
Terri felt so good. She was so gorgeous. All I wanted to do was spend the rest of my life giving her slow, deep thrusts, feeling her hot wetness engulfing my prick, my hands massaging and relishing her smooth curves, the heft of her breasts. A finger running down the length of her spine.
I leaned forward and pressed her down onto the bed. She dropped to her stomach and I sprawled on top of her, slowly churning my prick inside her. She twisted her head and we kissed, wetly, awkwardly over her shoulder. Her lips were salty and I realized I was tasting the tears that ran down her cheek.
“Oh God, Bill, I’m sorry,” she sighed.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I consoled her. “I’m sorry too.”
