Author's Note
: This is a story about a wife watching her husband have sex with a younger woman. It includes lots of taunting and humiliation (until it doesn't). If that sounds alright to you, I think you'll enjoy it -- I'm a little proud of this one. I'm still new to writing, so feedback is greatly appreciated; I especially want to know what people think of the ending.
I sat in the chair beside my bed, naked and anxious -- waiting. I'd spent a painful amount of money at the salon that afternoon to get ready for tonight's big date, and it showed. Waxed to within an inch of my life. A fresh manicure and pedicure. My straight auburn hair, normally pulled back into a tidy, efficient bun, instead flowed to just past my shoulders to frame a pretty face done up with a striking professional makeup job. Other than earrings and my wedding band, the only thing I had on was a simple velvet choker. All the effort served to accentuate a figure I try to take pride in. I can be insecure about my body, about getting older, but at 37 I'm still the tall, slender looker I've always been. Or so everyone assures me. In short, I knew I was at my best that night. It just irked me that no one was likely to notice or care.
Thinking big picture, I tried to calm myself by taking solace in the evident success my life had become. After finishing a master's degree in chemistry, I landed in education and was now Dean of Faculty at one of the most prestigious high schools in the state. At work, with my students and colleagues alike, I'm a well-respected figure; some would say imposing. Everyone likes Mrs. Russo, but it's a rare day that someone is willing to butt heads with me. It's widely expected that I'll be named Headmaster when the position became vacant next year. I love my job.
And I married well, as anyone can see. A few months shy of his fortieth birthday, David only seems to get better looking every year; it's not fair. 6'1" and broad-shouldered, with a full head of hair and a square jaw, he stays fit at the gym -- very fit. He has a reputation for being assertive in person and shrewd in business, yet he always acts the gentleman, and people take note. We're still renting in the city for the moment, but with my salary, and the money coming in from David's thriving young business, we're seriously looking at a house in Glencoe that would confirm our entry into the upper class.
On any other day, all of this would be a comfort to me. But, again, I knew that none of it would matter tonight.
Through the closed door of our bedroom I could hear the latter stages of the date happening in the living room: soft music, glasses clinking, muffled conversation, occasional peals of laughter. Also some long silences that compelled me to imagine the scene.
They're having a good time
, I thought. Was that better or worse than the alternative? Even now I wasn't sure. All I could do was brood over that and a dozen other questions, and wait.
Finally, the bedroom door opened and my husband took one step inside. I stood up. He stopped and looked right at me, holding my stare, but I couldn't read his face.
"I'm ready," I told him.
"That's nice," he answered.
Mia bounded in after him then, giggling and slightly drunk. She pressed up against David's back and draped her arms over his shoulders, nuzzling his neck. Eventually she looked up and spied me standing at the far side of the room.
"Mmmmm ... so that's her?" she asked. David nodded. "Well, I see what you mean. Come on."
She took David by the hand and pulled him toward the bed, and I got my first good look at Mia in the flesh -- her online profile, it seemed, had not been misleading. In fact, she looked exactly like what she was: a sharp young thing, slumming it for a little while and marking time, waiting for her professional life to begin. She was taller than I am, maybe 5'9", and toned in the way that comes so much easier to youth than a woman of my age. Above her dark eyebrows was a mop of light blonde hair in an asymmetrical pixie cut, swooping from one side down to the other, with a single streak of pink towards the front. Through some hipster alchemy I'll never understand, though she was clad in sneakers, distressed jeans, and a form-fitting plain white tee, she somehow made her ensemble look stylish, almost formal.
Peeking out from beneath the sleeve of that t-shirt, I could see the tattoo on her left forearm: a simple molecule, the structural formula for serotonin. It reminded me of why I'd chosen Mia in the first place. The first reason I chose her, of course, was that I knew my husband would find her mouthwatering. But there had been others who fit that bill. What really drew me to Mia was less tangible. 22 years old, in a couple months she'd have a degree from UChicago, studying evolutionary biology. And besides our shared background in the hard sciences, I felt I had a good read on her. She seemed so much like any number of my recent students: the affable, laid-back smartasses who think they're smarter than their teachers, and are usually right. I know how to handle that type -- I even like them, to be honest -- and I thought that might give me some measure of control over the evening.
The would-be lovers approached the bed and shared a gentle but earnest kiss that sent a chill through my veins. Mia backed off and reached down to pull off her shirt. David stopped her.
"Kim," he called out to me. "Help our guest with her clothes."
"Yes, sir." This would be one of my jobs, unwrapping my husband's date for him. I walked up to Mia and knelt before her; she looked back at David and I could see them share a conspiratorial smile. I took off her shoes & socks for her then raised up on my knees and unbuttoned her jeans. As I worked the zipper I looked up to find Mia eyeing me -- amused, arrogant, and dismissive. With her jeans now lying on the floor, I stood and peeled off Mia's t-shirt, once again failing to avoid her smirk as I did so. I reached around to unhook her bra, getting a whiff of her perfume in the process. I took in Mia's body for a moment and inwardly cringed -- she was flawless. Supple. Thin and curvy all at the same time, with heavy C-cup breasts that put mine to shame; even when I was her age I couldn't compete with that. Mia gave me a glare and wordlessly tapped the waistband of her panties with her finger; I knelt once more and worked them off Mia's long legs for her. This time I kept my head down.
Once I'd completely stripped Mia, she turned her back to me and did the same for David -- my husband, but her man. At least for tonight. They shared titters and flirty looks as she worked his clothes off, paying no mind to me, the devoted wife on the floor.
Once nude, David looked at me and pointed to the chair. "Sit," he said. I sat. Now fully naked, the new couple kissed for a moment before David playfully pushed Mia back onto the bed; she gave a happy shriek and he tumbled down after her where they continued their embrace -- kissing, nuzzling, hands going everywhere. Mia spotted me again when she happened to turn her head.
"So, is she gonna be cool?" she asked David.
"Yeah, I think she knows her place," he said. Then, sarcastically, "Ohhh, so sorry, darling: her
role
. That's what we're supposed to call it. She knows her role."
Mia was staring right at me now. "Well, if she forgets we'll just have to remind her." So far I'd been holding it together, but now a cold hard shock jolted my pride and my pussy in equal measure and I heard a soft whimper escape my lips. Jesus, what's wrong with me? No longer able to resist, my hand slid down and started stroking my slit.
Mia returned her attention to my husband and kissed him with fervor, grinding her pussy against his hardening manhood. She began to slide down his body, planting kisses as she went, sucking hard in a few spots to leave love bites I'd have to look at for days. She reached her destination and took hold of David's shaft, then dragged her tongue from his balls to his tip in one long lick, enveloping the head and sucking wildly for a few seconds. She looked over then and saw where my hand was. Her mouth popped off his cock and she replaced it with the steady stroking of her hand; he was powerfully erect now.
"Oh, man. Look at the little tart, she can't help herself. I guess you were right," she said to David. At this my eyes shut and my head fell, though my fingers sped up. "Aw, I think we embarrassed her. Are you embarrassed, Kimmy?" No answer. "