Emily Richard And Tom Ch 03

Emily leaned over the sink and held a breath as she combed mascara into her eye lashes. The bathroom was still steamy from her shower. She looked at her watch on the counter---he would be here in less than half an hour. She took another sip from the glass of wine, her second. She was struggling to quiet her nerves and the wine was not yet helping. She took a bigger gulp of red and breathed in deeply through her nose filling her lungs. She let out a slow hissing breath through pursed lips. Again.

"Richard" she called out as she spread concealer under her eyes. She rotated her face in the mirror lights to inspect her work.

"Yeah?" Richard poked his head in the bathroom door. He was dressed and eager to usher along Emily's preparation---he wanted her to be ready.

"Go in my sweater drawer and bring me the striped box." Emily continued to apply her makeup. Richard returned with the gift box and handed it to her. She lifted the lid and pulled out the bottle of perfume and set in on the marble counter. She replaced the lid and returned the box to him. "Lay these out on the bed for me. Tom sent them," she said, looking straight into Richard's eyes. She had removed Tom's note from the box, not wanting to reveal how long she had kept the box a secret. She was relieved when she realized she could use the gift as a last minute taunt---psychological foreplay for her impatient husband. The wine was starting to work now and she felt a curious pleasure from the confounded look on Richard's face. She closed the door on him and took another drink.

Richard set the box on the foot of the bed and opened the lid. He peeled back the tissue layers and looked at the lacy items. He laid the brassiere neatly on the bed spread, and then placed the panties below them. His legs felt weak. This gift from Tom answered his curiosity about any communications between him and Emily. The realization stung him---not in a completely unpleasant way---but it sent his mind racing about the extent of their collusion ahead of tonight's meeting. His anticipation of this night had preoccupied him for the last two weeks and now his wife had confirmed its arrival with her abrupt revelation and her distant tone.

The bathroom door opened again and Emily stood in the doorway, her robe hanging open. Richard saw her neatly cropped snatch and he looked up at her freshly penciled eyebrows and bright red lips. She looked vivacious and unfamiliar in this instant. Her eyes were glassy.

"Richard---what are you doing?" Emily quizzed him harshly. "Will you get the fuck out of here? Go down stairs and do something while I get dressed. Put some music on. Have a drink." Emily was testing her wings ahead of Tom's arrival and it felt good. She stared Richard out the door and she smiled to herself, pleased by Richard's obedience.

Emily's bitchy sternness stiffened Richard's cock almost instantly; the front of his trousers bulged outward. He couldn't greet Tom at the door with a fucking hard on. "Fuck!" he thought. Richard busied himself with music and selected a menu of jazzy blues and he set it to playing, filling the room softly and distantly. He walked through the front room and dining room dimming lights for mood---not too dark. And then he poured a drink, guzzled it, and then poured another with which to pace the rooms while he waited.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror on the back of the closet door. It was not the first time she had tried on Tom's gift, but tonight, she thought it looked even better. How did he find such a perfect fit? She twisted and turned in her heels attempting to see her back in the mirror. She liked how the panties cut across her ass in just the right place, and the dainty bra managed to hike her up, make her look fuller. She felt good. She pulled a skimpy black cocktail dress---her favorite "party" dress---from a hanger and stepped into it. It was too risqué for public wear, but she wore it many times for special nights with Richard. It was one of his favorites too. But as she struggled to pull the zipper up her back it was not Richard she was thinking about. The wine had compressed her inhibitions into a distant corner of her mind and she was feeling ready for the evening. As she smoothed the dress down her hips and ass she heard commotion and voices downstairs and she hurried into the bathroom to check her lipstick one last time.

"Hello Sir," Richard said as he pushed open the storm door to let Tom in. Richard stood aside as he entered and then closed the front door against the late fall air. Tom seemed taller, more statuesque than he remembered. The cold air still hung around him.

"Hello Richard," Tom said. He set down a duffle bag at his feet and shook off his coat and handed it to Richard. Richard fumbled with a hanger and the coat---he was anxious and self conscious. He hung the coat in the entry closet and then turned back to Tom.

"Thanks for coming tonight, Sir."

Tom ignored his welcome, "Why are you dressed?"

Richard looked confused and a little rattled. He wasn't sure of the right answer to offer, so he offered none and shrugged.

"I'm sure I told you in one of my last emails that you should be naked when I get here. Why the fuck are you all dressed up like you're going to dinner. Are you going to dinner?" his voice was getting louder.

"No Sir," Richard answered. "I guess I misunderstood. I thought I would have to..."

"Oh man---shut the fuck up Bitchard. Where's Emily?

"She's getting ready. She'll be right down, Sir." Richard offered apologetically. Tom pushed the duffle bag toward him with his foot. "Take this over to the dining table. I brought some things for you to wear. You can put them on---right over there!" Tom gestured toward the end of the dining room table. "I hope you're not going to be a fuck-up all night. I don't want to be pissed off already. I was feeling good when I got here."

Richard took the bag into the dining room and started to undress. He heard Emily coming down the steps, but could not see their exchange.

"Hello Tom," Emily said cheerily as she spotted him.

"Wow," Tom exclaimed and offered his hand to her as she made the last few steps.

"Emily---you look beautiful. So sexy!" She stepped right next to him and raised her face and they kissed. "M-m-m-m, you smell great too." He kissed her again and cupped her ass familiarly. "Did you enjoy my gift?"

"I did," Emily answered. "It's beautiful. You have great taste."

"I'm glad. I can't wait to see it."

Emily looked around. "Where's Richard?" Tom nudged her to the dining room doorway by her elbow and pointed at Richard who was down to his socks and underwear. He was already stiff and he didn't try to hide his erection from them. Emily giggled. "What are you doing Richard?" she asked loudly, in exaggerated bewilderment. She laughed louder as Richard continued undressing.

"I brought Richard an outfit to wear," Tom said. He whispered in Emily's ear, "I thought it was only fair since I had gotten a gift for you. I didn't want him to be jealous. Hey, let's get a drink while he get's dressed---I need one."

"Me too," said Emily, enthused. She didn't want to lose her buzz.

Tom turned to Richard, "When you get dressed, come and show us your outfit in the kitchen. We're going to have a drink."

Richard didn't answer.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes Sir," Richard said.

"Well then fucking say something!" Tom snapped, his jaw tightened and his neck and face reddened. He moved toward Richard menacingly.

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry Sir." Richard answered quickly---earnestly.

"You fucking idiot," Tom said between clenched teeth and left the room

Richard could hear their voices trail off down the hall. He unzipped the gym bag, ready to see what items were inside. He pulled out a pair of woman's shoes---pumps with a moderate heel; light teal-blue patent leather. They looked enormous for a woman's shoe. He held them and stared at them for a couple minutes before setting them on the floor. He pushed one foot and then the other into the shiny pair. They fit. He took a couple small steps---awkward and clomping. He returned to the bag and pulled out the remaining items---a pair of blue, lacy woman's briefs, and a black t-shirt. He held up the shirt, obviously too small for him, and read the glittered cursive lettering on the front---"Bitchard". He could hear them laughing in the kitchen---the easy chit-chat and joking of intimate companions. Was Tom telling her what he had brought for him to wear? Richard sat down and fed his feet and large shoes through the leg holes of the panties. He stood to pull them up and he tugged them up as high as he could on his waist. His stiff dick would not fit fully inside the lacy briefs; he let the head of his dick stick up over the waist band and his balls barely stayed within the crotch of the panties. Finally, he pulled the t-shirt over his head and he stretched the material to its limit to clear his arms. He yanked down on the shirt, but it left his navel and paunchy midriff exposed. He could just make out his form in the glass of the dining room cabinet. Richard folded his own clothes neatly and laid them across the back of a chair.

Tom and Emily were kissing between sips of their drinks. Tom had her pinned against the island counter, grinding his pelvis against her. Emily responded eagerly, groping his ass and pulling him into her.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard tonight," he whispered as he tongued her ear and kissed her neck. Emily did not speak but moaned softly and hugged him harder to acknowledge his promise. They heard footsteps coming down the hallway---loud, clunky steps on maple planks. Richard appeared in the doorway and stood there.

"Oh---my---god," Emily stuttered and broke into a full throated laugh. She rested her elbows on the counter and cupped her face in her hands, still laughing.

"Come in here Bitchard," Tom said chuckling. "Let's see your new outfit. Turn around." Richard stepped toward the island and did an awkward 360. Emily lifted her face and shook her head as she eyed Richard up and down more slowly. She turned into Tom and laid her head on his chest and said, "Oh my god," again. Tom hugged her and lifted her face to kiss her again. Richard could see them tonguing each other's mouth.

Tom looked back at Richard. "How's your outfit? I bought all that especially for you Bitchard---had the t-shirt custom made," Tom said, and he burst out laughing with "Obviously!" Tom gulped the rest of his drink down and took an ice cube into his mouth and chased it around with his tongue. Emily was still giggling

"I like it Sir," Richard said flatly.

"That's not very convincing," Tom came back. "I said I bought it especially for you."

Richard understood the challenge. "I like it a lot Sir. Thank you for picking it out for me."

"Does it make you feel stupid?"

"Yes Sir. It's embarrassing," Richard responded.

"What are you drinking Bitchard?" Tom suddenly changed the topic.

"Scotch Sir."

Tom grabbed the scotch from a collection of bottles under the cabinet light and set it on the island counter. "Have another one," Tom instructed. Richard dropped a few cubes of ice into a cocktail glass and poured the amber liquid over them. He took a sip.

"Drink up Bitchard," Tom said in a tone not amenable to bargaining. Emily watched the exchange quietly, rubbing her hand in slow circles across Tom's chest. Richard lifted the glass and gulped the drink down. He winced slightly, but the scotch tasted good and the cold liquid turning to heat in his throat made his face feel warm.

"Have another one," Tom said. He turned his attention to Emily knowing Richard would follow his directive. He kissed her and ran his hand across her tits. Richard complied and covered the ice again. He took a drink from the glass, and watched Emily respond to Tom's petting with slow rocking motions of her hips.

Tom broke his embrace with Emily and refilled her glass with wine, and he filled the bottom of his own glass with the scotch. He turned his attention back to Richard.

"Richard, let's be serious for a minute," he said.

"Yes Sir?" Tom responded a little warily.

"How does your new outfit feel to you?" Tom asked.

"It feels good Sir." Richard took another sip of his drink.

"Is this the kind of thing you pictured when you invited me to play with Emily?"

"Uh...yes Sir...I didn't know exactly how it would go, but I guess this is what I was looking for. It's humiliating, but in a good way." Richard felt the scotch now and he was struck by the dreamy-harsh light of the kitchen. Tom's inquiries excited and concerned him at the same time.

"Well. I think that is important to establish." He looked at Emily and asked her, "Did you hear what he said---this is the kind of shit he likes. How do you think Richard looks?"

Emily did not break into laughter. She felt Tom's lead and followed. "I think he looks a like a stupid slut. I think he could use a little lip stick though." Tom laughed and he caught Richard smiling at the comment. A bead of clear fluid grew on the tip of Richard's stiff dick, the head still poking out from the panties.

"What are you laughing at Bitchard?" Tom snapped.

"I'm embarrassed Sir. That's all." Richard did not smile as he answered.

"But that's what you want isn't it?"

"Yes Sir, it is," Richard answered soberly now. The liquor let him speak directly, "Sir, to be honest, I really enjoyed your last visit, and I've been thinking about this visit for weeks. And I'm enjoying this evening. Thank you for coming here tonight." The admission felt good---the voiced subordination, exhilarating

"You don't have to thank me, fucker. I thoroughly enjoy making a stupid fuck out of a sex pervert like you; and you haven't seen anything yet, Bitchard." Tom's voice echoed in the room and sent a chill through Richard. "You don't have to thank me, bitch. You need to thank your wife; you're beautiful wife who is willing to put up with a pervert like you." His voice got louder. "You don't need to thank me---I'm going to fuck your wife like crazy in a few minutes and love every fucking bit of her. This is what you wanted, right?"

"Right, Sir. Yes." Richard said. He looked at Emily directly. Her one hand hung on Tom's arm and the other hand held her glass of wine. She stared back at Richard, unflinchingly. "Emily? Thank you honey, for...for putting up with me...and...making me a stupid fuck." Richard's voice quivered. "Thank you baby. Thank you so much." Emily did not answer and pulled Tom's arm down her abdomen to her waist, then guided it down to her crotch. Richard stared, mesmerized. His dick pulsed and ached with excitement. Emily's bold display brought him to an edge.

"Drink up Bitchard," Tom broke the intense moment. Richard threw his head back and finished his drink. Tom poured the glass half full again. "Take your drink and go turn that music up. We'll be out in a minute."

He headed out the doorway and down the hall toward the music. His legs were rubbery and unsteady. He was loaded now and felt near ecstasy. He took in a deep breath to fuel the moment and to steady his steps.

Emily threw her arms around Tom's neck and kissed him passionately. She wanted to climb his tall form. Tom's hands ran up and down her back and he kneaded her ass firmly, roughly. They kissed for some time and then relaxed their embrace. Emily filled her glass one more time anticipating their move to the front room.

"Take you dress off," Tom said matter-of-factly. Emily sipped from her glass and smiled at him as she set her glass down.

"Let's wait a minute---'til we turn the lights down a little more---in the front room maybe." She laid her hand on his chest and looked up at him coyly. She was desperate to be naked with him, but not exposed to the harsh honesty of the kitchen lights and vulnerable to his visual assessments.

Tom lifted her hand off his chest by the wrist. "I said take your dress off---now---or I'll rip that fucking dress right off your ass." Tom looked down at her. Emily's smile melted instantly. She looked stunned, hurt. The music got louder in the front room. She rolled her wrist out of Tom's grip and turned her back to him, offering to him her zipper. Tom pulled the tab down slowly, tracing a finger down the recess of her spine to the top of her ass. Emily shivered and turned back to him. She pulled the top of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Tom stared intently at her breasts, her nipples discernable beneath the floral lace. He traced the cups of her bra with his fingers. She took another drink from her glass and set in down. Emily slid her hands into the sides of her dress and shimmied it down to her ankles and stepped out of the black pile on the floor. Tom let her stand there nearly naked. He inspected her up and down. He poured another drink and threw his head back to down it.

"Don't you tell me 'no'," Tom said. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes Tom, I'm sorry," she said. Emily looked close to tears. Everything was so good a minute ago and now she feared losing his adoration and the promise of his fuck.

"Turn around and put your hands on the counter," Tom instructed her. Emily did not hesitate this time and she laid her hands flat on the cool marble. Tom stepped up behind her and she craned her neck to look at him. He reached around her head and took her jaw in his hand and straightened her face to the wall. "You don't need to look at me. Look straight ahead. Spread your legs a little." Emily moved her feet farther apart and away from the cabinets---like a police suspect ready for frisking. She heard Tom dropping more ice into a glass and the long gurgle of liquor pouring over it. He stepped close to her, from the side, and managed a firm grasp of her short hair with one hand and tipped her head back slightly. He put the icy cocktail glass to her lips and tipped it forward. "Big sip," he said. Emily took a drink and winced as she swallowed. "Again," he said and tilted another mouthful at her. Emily managed to down the scotch and again she crunched her eyes closed and clenched her jaw until the burn dissipated. "Good girl," he said. "Good girl."

Tom stood behind her now, his planted feet inside hers and ground his crotch against her ass. He pulled her to him by her hips and he worked the fleshy handles of her hips in his hands. He leaned up over her back so he could rest his head in the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Are you going to be my dirty fuck tonight?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes baby. I'm going to be your dirty fuck," she answered.

"How do you want me to fuck you?"

"I want you to fuck me hard and dirty," she said. She was so high now. "Please fuck me like a slut. I want to get fucked hard."

Tom's hands tugged her panties down just below her ass and he explored her wet pussy with his fingers, rolling her clit in his fingers, massaging and tugging the lips of her cunt, and then pushing his middle finger up into her. He worked it in firmly and deeply, hiking up on her crotch so that she was lifted to her toes for a moment. Emily moaned and arched her back, offering more of her pussy to his hand. She pumped her ass up and down.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Tom quizzed her sarcastically.

"I'm going to be your good girl. I want to be your dirty fuck," Emily responded with slutty desperation.

Tom pulled his hand from her pussy and smelled her wetness in deep inhalations. "Mmm---that's good," he said, and he rubbed his wet hand all over Emily's face and pushed his fingers into her mouth and she licked and sucked them eagerly. He ran his moist hand down her neck and shoulders.

"Okay, let's go see what Bitchard is doing," Tom announced. "Take your wine baby." Emily pulled her panties back to her hips. She felt good. She felt hot and ready for cock.