A Not so Prim & Proper Wife

To Recap: Our heroine is failing at her goals to be a proper wife. After so much neglect, she is being exposed to more sex than she has in years, and she is starting to crumble. Her tormentors have included one of her high school students, her boss's supervisor, and her next door neighbor, an obese Hispanic man named Roberto.

Her husband, Dan, is aware of these, for the most part, though he has his own problems, as his career is in jeopardy for a failed performance. Forced to travel, he is away from his wife at this very critical juncture. A wife being subjected to the unwanted advances of men, a job that is slipping between his fingers as he grips even tighter, and the very fact that one of his wife's erstwhile lovers is claiming her as his new wife, despite her protests otherwise...

As a reminder, this story started as a request for a friend of the Author, so certain descriptions and events, while seemingly drawn out, are done at the request of the intended recipient. The Author, however, hopes that other readers will find delight and entertainment in this, and her earlier works...

Lastly, as always, constructive criticisms are always welcomed, but if you want to rant about how the story does not follow your own versions of morality or reality, please save your comments for someone who cares. The Author doesn't.

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Dan sat at his desk, clear across the country, as his wife dutifully was trying to help their neighbor with so mundane a task. Alone in his hotel room, his trip, so far, had been a mixed bag of results. He was getting a near constant barrage of communications from his office. His bosses were getting impatient; not liking that Dan had scheduled his 'show down' of sorts with the very important client to the end of his trip. Dan, however, was no fool. The more progress in other areas he could demonstrate, the less impact this VIP would have, should things go wrong. He had just gotten off the phone with his boss, after an almost threatening demand for him to take action. Hanging up, he was growing apprehensive, even nervous. Things were piling up, and he could do nothing about it, which frustrated him.

Speaking of frustrations, his mind turned to his wife. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, and perhaps it did. His anger was beginning to fade, or perhaps being replaced by his work problems. Whichever it was, he realized he had been neglecting her this week, only speaking to her twice, and some text messages to reassure each other they were both alive. Sitting behind the cheap desk in his hotel room, his pen tapped the desk, a loud tympani as he considered his options. Making a decision, he reached for his phone, and hit his wife's speed dial.

The phone on their den table at home started to ring, in the chime Tessa had reserved for her husband. The tune was a ring tone made from the song "Call Me" by Blondie. His picture came up on the display, and the device vibrated softly, managing to move about in a random pattern on the smooth, polished table. It rang, and it rang. Only no one was home to answer it. Dan looked at the phone on his end. "Where the fuck IS she?" He had no way of knowing his wife was in peril.

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"I'm so sorry, but as I said, I need to do laundry. Can you tell me what is wrong?" the portly neighbor, Roberto had said. They were inside his house, next door to her own, and Tessa was leaning over the laundry machine, her experienced wifely eyes giving it a practiced scan.

Barefoot, she had to hike on her toes and lean over to lift the lid, the strong odor of bleach almost making her fall over. There was, indeed, a mix of laundry to be cleaned, and the need to waft the chlorine cloud from her face made her release the bottom hand from her robe, as her delicate fingers waved to clear the air in front of her. The action actually left her robe open, but she was no longer facing him. Her eyes quickly scanned the controls, and she found the problem. Ever the teacher, she used the moment to help him become more self-sufficient.

"Come take a look..." she offered in her best instructional voice.

Roberto took the chance to slide behind her, his fat belly pressing against her backside and back, and as she continued with the instruction, she felt him begin to hump against her...

"Roberto! *grunt* What do you think *grunt* you are doing?" Tessa had to exclaim through grunts, as his hard thrusts were jolting her, and since his ample belly very effectively pinned to his washing machine. Her outstretched hand had been on the knob to turn the machine on, while her oft-hand was on the edge of the machine for balance. This had left her short satin robe open, gaping as Roberto could tell, but not see, and having been born petite in height, she always used her tiptoes, and was so used to it, she hadn't given it a thought, until Roberto started to hump her against the cold metal.

Roberto, however, was having the time of his life. His boxers were tented to the degree they would, and his robe, too, was open, his hairy belly bouncing against Tessa's backside as he dry-humped her. His dick was flipping up and down, but because of his size, he couldn't manage to stick himself inside her. So, using his meaty, thick fingers, he grabbed her hips, and hefted her higher on to the washing machine, so that her face was mashed to the control panel. Due to his heavy bulk, he was actually quite strong under the layers of fat he dragged with him everywhere. He had to be, even to move well.

"Ahhh! Ouch! "Dammit, Roberto!" the not so prim and proper wife started exclaiming. "get off of me! Lemme go!" she cried out, her hands flailing back behind her, unable to really reach anything. His humping, however, kept smacking her head into the control panel, and while it didn't do much to her consciousness, it did hurt. "Ouch! Enough! Stop! Ouch!"

Roberto, however, was as hard as he had ever been, and was more than ready to bed the buxom woman. Despite her cries and pleas, he barked at her. "Enough, Mija! You think I don't notice you... you flashing your tits and ass at me? I know you want cock, Mija, I saw you with the black man. I know you're a slut for men!" and then he stopped humping and reached forward, wrapping his thick, stubby arms about her waist and stood up, lifting the petite woman easily.

"No! No!" She shrieked. "Let... me... go!" She yelled, her hands dropping to his arms, to try and make him release her, as she was carried in a heavy waddle into the front room of the man's house. His words of being seen, and Ofi then hit her. "It isn't like that! Roberto! Stop this!"

The portly, pudgy man had no such intention, and he kept after his prey, despite her writhing, her long hair flying back and forth, smacking the side of his head in soft, feminine whisper-wills of sweet fragrance. Her skin was soft in his fingers, her body so close, and yet still just a bit too far, for the moment. He waddled with her in his arms, carrying her with her back to his front, her robe flying open as she struggled, nude to the empty, dim room.

There were a few overstuffed chairs, and a large, low-slung couch, with a long coffee table center din the room, a TV mounted to the wall, and, of course a reclining chair that could peer out the front windows, Roberto's perch to spy on his lust-object. He had seen her in her sexy, hip-high wrap-skirt, he had also spied her in her short satin robe, the same one that hung from her shoulders and displayed her nudity. A single lamp illuminated the room, as well as the TV, which had been displaying a movie.

The coffee table was very large, and littered with plates, newspapers, magazines, and empty glasses. There was a few small plastic packets, a few blue pills, a rag, and small brown vial, and larger, hand towel on an end table as well. The couch cushions had a variety of stains on the velour, some dark, some white, and a few fresher ones. But Tessa didn't have a chance to contemplate, or recognize any of it. She was in the fight of her life, and losing badly.

The thick man released the struggling woman with a shove, hard against the coffee table, her body landing face-first amidst the papers, her momentum making her slide across it, until she was fully atop the table. Her hands scrabbled to push against the surface, only to fnd her hands slipping out from under her, the magazines sliding uner her palms, making her arms fly outwrds, and making her face land hard against the table. Her blue eyes took in a quick gaze, and she had a flashing thought. 'Great. A sex magazine'. She then continued her efforts to rise up, only this time a hand was shoved into her back, and knocked her flat again.

Roberto has the perfect chance, and he knew it, now. She was his to enjoy, all night, if need be. But first she had to be made more compliant. Despite his appearance, he was actually a clever man, and while he had used the drugs on the end table for his own sexual gratification, he had also used them on his wife. She had been an unsuspecting participant, but in the end the sex had been good, and she rarely got any kind of attention. Her husband had been jerking off over the neighbor woman. All that was int eh past, and now it was Tessa's turn, and a turn she would have. Held down, as she squirmed, and screamed out, her breathing was hot and heavy, and when the rag was clamped over her mouth and nose, she couldn't help but inhale the sickly-sweet vapors. It did not take long, and she grew woozy, and her limbs flailed less, and she began to giggle. Dumping the contents of a small plastic bindle down her throat, she sniggled softly, and then faded into silence. The opiates had begun to work on her consciousness, and she became lost in her own dream world.

Chemically subdued, his prey lolled about and he could take the time to get comfortable. He shed his robe, and his boxers, and stood over her, his thick fingers reaching up under his huge belly roll, and he began fondling himself. With an evil grin, he muttered out. "Finally, Mija. I'm gonna fuck you until you puke, Bitch!" Then he advanced on her again, and picked her up, carrying her further into his house, the rooms darkened.

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Ofi had begun to lose his patience. Part of his plan had come together quite nicely, and yet others were growing difficult. His trip to his consulate to obtain he required visitation documents had been easy enough. Tessa now had an extend-stay visa, and other documents, but her citizenship documents were proving difficult. Some mindless bureaucrat in his homeland was demanding his due to cut corners, and his was being recalcitrant. A Prince of his homeland or not, the royal heritage only went so far in these modern times. On top of this, his new wife, the woman his cock ached for, was being beset with issues. First she had to be literally pried from her classroom, a tedious task that required his spending more time than planned on that middle-level would-be politician. Then there was her husband. The man who had demonstrated that he was capable of doing violence, if sufficiently provoked. Ofi still had no idea how to deal with him.

Then there were the difficulties with his own family members. Ofi had not been married, until he had claimed the white woman, but his brother's son, his nephew seemingly had a death wish. Born abroad, he had become filled with Western ideals, impatience, and self-entitlement. Ofi's brother had been so weak-willed, that his son had ran all over him. Now a thug, the boy's criminal record disgusted Ofi, as a stain of dishonor. Ofi's code of honor made the young man unworthy of the family name, in fact. Something would have to be done about the boy, but first he had to be located. He had dropped off the face of the Earth, it seemed.

Sitting at home, looking through the laptop on his lap, he perused the white woman's social media pages, as well as her work files. A vision of true beauty, at least as far as Ofi was concerned, she was prettier than any of the high-fashion models, with their stick-thin figures, and gaunt looks. Ofi figured one night with them in bed, and he'd like fracture a pelvis or two. Tessa, on the other hand, had the amazing figure. Flat stomach, large, full, and firm breasts, and a firm, tight butt, the kind he relished. There was little to no flab on her, and her long blond hair also cut her a striking figure, the soft, full mane reaching down her back, a delight to hold onto as he enjoyed her last time. The very memory of his sexual conquest made his cock stir, the long appendage starting to make itself known down the thigh of his slacks.

"Soon, my bride, very soon." He murmured.

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The phone had been ringing straight to voicemail that Dan gave up. He was living several time zones in the future, and he had to get some sleep. He vowed he would get to the bottom of his wife's lack of communication when he got home, even if it meant putting a tracking app on her cell phone. Of course, he wasn't above physically imposing his will on her, as the last time he was in bed with her demonstrated. He laid back, and smiled to himself, re-claiming his wife for her infidelity, and at the same time reminding her of her place, which was at his side. She hadn't fought him, and had endured his anal breech, and even submitted to it. He drifted to sleep, remembering the feel of her ass as it clamped on his manhood, as he thrust in and out of her, denying her sexual pleasure, while he took his own from her body. It was a physical domination, and placed him back in charge, as it was in another time.

They had been in a dance club, celebrating their second anniversary. She had dressed to please him, a soft, silky black halter dress, hemmed in a circle skirt at mid-thigh, and with it came a blood-red garter, trimmed with black lace and ribbon, a pair of silky dark back-seamed stockings, and finally a pair of racier black satin panties. They tied at the hips, and had only a small fabric patch to conceal and cradle her sweet lips. They had been dancing together, and having a great time, her smile infectious and bright, long blond hair swirling about as she tossed her head left and right, her perfectly manicured nails gleaming in the DJ lights. He had enjoyed spinning her, dipping her, and otherwise playing with her on the dance floor, her normally modest-self having been lost to the music, the motions, and the drink. A good share of a bottle of Champagne had risen to her head, and she was a bit loose, feeling no pain from the intoxicating bubbles.

Leaving her on the floor, Dan had to go relieve himself, and upon his return, he saw his wife dancing, her hips swaying left and right, perfectly timed to the deep and heavy bass that thudded out a hip-hop tune, the silky skirt floating up and down with her gyrations, exposing a bit of her thigh high stockings, and even a flash of garter. Spying her husband, she had given him a come-hither grin, and extended her arms, using bother index fingers to beckon him to her in a rapid series of curls.

Dan broke into a wide smile, and made his way to her, each step seemingly taking forever, until he could be holding his wife in his arms, and feeling her body rubbing all over his. He had to insinuate his way through the crowd, each step seeming to take forever, as he was jostled. Her smile grew as he drew closer, and she had that twinkle in her eyes. She was feeling mischievous, and frisky. Dan and Tessa were going to have sex so hot it would threaten to catch their bed on fire! He reached out, his arm extended in the flashing darkness, only to have his hand knocked aside by a large shadow. Moving to the side, he was shocked, left standing there as his jaw dropped.

His lovely, beautiful, amazing wife was in the arms of another man! He had one arm wrapped about her waist, holding her to him, her thighs apart as she rode his thigh in a very improper dance, her hips rocking back and forth on his thigh, making her heat slide along his bare leg, until she was leaving a trail of her moisture on his dark skin. The man was nearly naked, and wearing some sort of tribal regalia, a beaded necklace with lion's teeth, and a headdress of bone and feathers.

Her own arms were extended, one reaching to his shoulder, and the other down between his legs. She was tugging on that long, black snake, as she coaxed it to length, while everyone danced around them. She was oblivious to her husband's voyeuristic eyes, and those gathered about them. A chant began to grow. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" As the voices rose to a crescendo, she shifted, lifting her thigh between the man's lewdly, revealing herself to him, and that menacing shaft. Dan could tell it was already dripping thin drops of pre-emission.

Lifting her to his crotch, she splayed her legs outside his waist, fully extended to show her four-inch black patent leather stilettos, and she arched her back, letting out a loud, joyful wail as she sank on his cock, the rest of the dancers roaring and clapping with approval, as Tessa fucked the black man directly in front of her husband.

Her voice rose above the din, and she screamed to her lover. "Fuck me! Put your baby in me!" and she shuddered in a violent orgasm, the rest of the room roaring its approval.

Dan awoke with a start, his chest heaving and his body sweating as he lay on his cheap motel bed, the sheets laying on the floor. He sat up, resting his arms on his knees, and looked about, taking in the hotel room, lit only with the flickering images of the TV, and a late night movie. Gasping for air, he lifted a hand to his brow, wiping it off. Then he noticed his underwear felt funny. As in wet. Feeling down, he used his thumb and forefinger, only to feel something other than urine. He had ejaculated in his dream.

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As Dan was awakening from his tormented dreams, Tessa was deep in her own.

Dosed with a liberally with Poppers and then force-fed some GHB, she was lost in space, exposed, and now lying on her neighbor's bed. He, himself, was also nude, and inching his way towards her on the bed, his belly dragging on the bedding as he managed to position his body over hers, his knees forcing hers ever wider, and as he judged right, he then lowered himself, the massive mounds of flab squashing her flat on the bed.

He began to thrust on her, rather than in her, as was the way he made love to his wife. But his massive rolls kept his short prick from actually making any meaningful contact. He was too big, too short, and she was too tiny, and too flat. He used his tongue on hers, kissing her as she returned the kiss, her body reacting out of instinct, perhaps, her conscious mind swimming in who knew what dream-world. She would purr as he kissed her, and his hands groped her breasts, squeezing them fully, but not harshly. While he lusted for the woman, he had not the brutality of some of the other men who had been with her recently.

His cheeks were too flabby to let his teeth and lips latch onto her neck as well, so he was reduced to kissing her all over, where he could reach. Her lips, her tongue, her ears, her face. He would slather his tongue all over her, licking and dripping his saliva on her, and into her mouth. All the while he thrust at her, trying pathetically to make his cock touch her gates. "Ahh, Puta likes me now, eh? Thinks better of me now?" he mocked her. Her tongue and lips had returned his kiss, but not much else, but he took that as a sign of acceptance. It was time to try more seriously to do the deed.

Rearing back, he pulled her legs up and heels to his shoulders, dragging her torso to him, until her butt was cradled by his thighs. Lifting his flab, he used his free hand to adjust his aim, and then lunge forward, to spear the writhing woman. He managed to just barely penetrate her, and then he began to squirm and pump at her, trying desperately to drive his penis into her. The effort made him tired, both from the sheer exertion, and the high stress of finally having his conquest at his fingertips.