I'd forgotten my damn key again. And my wife was taking forever to answer the door. What was she doing in there?
I was mildly irritated by the time she finally opened up, but before my lips could even form the words to some smart-assed remark about how long I'd been standing there, my senses were overloaded with the sight before me.
I gave her a once over -- I swear, my wife could make a pimple look sexy. If she farted while we were having dinner with the president, my first reaction would probably be a hard-on. She was like walking, talking, Viagra to me. And that was when she wasn't even trying.
Without trying to be sexy, my wife was like Isis of Egypt. She couldn't help being a goddess, sexiness oozed out of her pores. And when she was trying to be sexy, she was the equivalent of substituting the ice cubes in your scotch for lava rocks -- that kind of sex appeal that just burns a man to the core as he takes it in.
But this look was off the charts, even for her. Her tight fitting top hugged her torso like a second layer of skin - I could practically make out the texture of her bra. Her cleavage was propped up and looking like it might be begging for mercy, as if at any moment those two perfect tits were gonna make an escape. Her skirt was obscenely short, the slightest movement of her hips would give me a glimpse of the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings. And the heels practically had their own voice, and they were screaming -- fuck me.
"Wow, you look..."
"Like a slut?" She returned a playful smile that always let me know that she knew exactly what kind of effect she had on me. "Thanks, that's what I was going for."
"Your words, not mine. But I love it, whatever you wanna call it."
"I just felt like looking the part, since I've been playing the part."
"What's that supposed to mean?" "Take your clothes off, and you'll find out."
My wife was a puppet master, and I was Pinocchio. The word "no" did not exist in my vocabulary where she was concerned. And this wasn't exactly a secret.
But she knew the word "no" all too well. As I placed my hands on her hips and went to kiss her, she quickly leaned back, placing a cease-and-desist hand in my face and pushing my head back. "Did I say you could kiss me?" She grabbed my wrists and pushed my hands away from her body. "Did I say you could touch me?"
"What, I have to ask permission just to kiss you now?" I smiled, as if she were joking. My wife loved to tease me and play little games. I figured it was just a playful act. She wanted to make me squirm a little, and I was used to that. I had never been too proud to beg.
"Yes, as a matter of fact you do," she stated, firmly. "And what the fuck are you smiling about? You think it's a joke?" Her hand came across my face so swiftly I never saw it coming.
"What the!? You in a bad mood or something?" I rubbed my burning cheek.
"Awww did that hurt?" she chuckled, then promptly slapped the shit out of me again, this time stinging the opposite cheek.
"Yes it hurts!" I whined.
My wife smiled as she shook her head. "You're such a pussy."
"What's with you today? Did I do something to upset you?"
"Upset me? Well, other than interrupting me by knocking on the door, no. I'm having the best day ever!" she walked past me, took a seat on the edge of the bed and lit up a cigarette.
"I'm sorry for interrupting you. What were you doing?"
"Masturbating."
My eyes got wide. "You...um...what?"
She smiled devilishly as she picked up a dildo and eyed it affectionately. "You didn't know that your naughty little wife loves to masturbate, did you? Of course not, because I never told you before. There's a lot of things I've never told you. I masturbate every single day. My little friend here was deep inside my tight little pussy hitting places that your tiny little dick has never touched before."
"But honey, that thing is so....big! I can't believe you like that!"
"Everything is big compared to you," she rolled her eyes. "How does that make you feel, knowing your wife likes to fuck herself with a big hard cock while you're at work? Hmmmm?"
"I don't know what to say," I was nearly out of breath. "I never thought...I mean...that you...what else is there that you haven't told me?"
"Ummm, let's see," she pressed her finger to her lips, giving me the coyest of expressions. "Well, there's so much to tell. Why don't you take your clothes off like I just fucking told you to, and I'll share a few of my dirty little secrets."
Her piercing eyes were fixated on me as she took long drags of her cigarette. She seemed amused by how visibly shaken I was from her comments. I nervously began to peel away my cloths as she stared at me like a carnival exhibit.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" I asked, nervously. My wife was always unpredictable, and the devious look on her face concerned me.
"Just shut up and strip, bitch. Unless you want me to keep all my naughty secrets to myself?"
"Bitch? What's up with all the derogatory comments, honey? Saying my dick is small, calling me a bitch. I don't know if I like this game," I frowned.
"Game?" she laughed. "You know you're my little bitch, why can't I just say it? Let's be honest, you're going to do whatever I tell you no matter what, like you always do. So just stop asking questions and be a good little bitch and take those boxers off so I can see that tiny little dick of yours."
No sooner had my drawers hit the floor, then she started to giggle. "Oh my goodness, it's so small! I can't believe I let you put that pathetic little thing inside of me! No, move your hand, don't try to cover it up, let me see it!"
"Ha, ha, ha, are you done joking around?" I got defensive.
"Who's joking?" she cackled, "ok, ok, ok, I'll give it a rest for now. Come here, sweetie...Wait," she held out her hand like a stop sign as I started towards her. "Get on your knees."
I looked at her quizzically. "Seriously?"
"On your hands and knees and crawl, bitch."
