We got into some financial difficulty a few years ago. I'd borrowed a lot and Elaine and I spent too much over one Christmas on the kids and family. And then I lost my job. It was all very difficult and, as these things do, it affected our marriage profoundly. While we kept our troubles from the kids, Ellen and I talked about little else -- driving out all playfulness, intimacy and, of course, sex from our life. For me, the whole thing was undermining, emasculating... all the clichés. I was meant to provide for the family, to take care of the money. But it was Ellen who worked, holding down a decent job, leaving me to do the housework and childcare. Over time I lost touch with my friends as I became more focussed on our home and my work in it.
Then one day we got the call we feared most -- a secretary from the bank phoned to set an appointment with the manager, a Mr Webb, for the very next day. Ellen and I barely slept that night. We talked and talked about what we would say, how we would try to win over Mr Webb, appealing to his sympathy. In a way I was relieved. The moment of crisis had come and it was all going to be faced, taken out of our hands and dealt with, one way or another.
The next morning, I dressed in my best shirt, tie and suit. I'd not worn one in months. Ellen, who had taken the whole day off work, dressed as if she was going to seduce Mr Webb. She wore a dark grey business suit from her working days before the kids which now fitted like a second skin, bringing out her voluptuousness. Ellen left the jacket open except for one button. Her blouse gaped giving a great view of her deep, soft cleavage. The skirt ended just below the knee and clung to her hips. You could see the ridges of her suspenders outlined against her thighs. Her feet were encased in black four-inch heels. Her calves had that beautiful athletic bulge that stilettos give and her arse and wide hips stood out high and firm. Her lips and eyes were made up to bring out her pale beauty and her light ginger hair.
Ellen is a beautiful 40-year-old. Her big grey-blues eyes are stunning when they hit you full beam. She has a demure, almost deferential manner, most of the time. But today, my wife was dressed like the office slut.
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She used, before we had our three kids, to come home dressed in this sexy-working-girl way. I liked to jump her, fucking her on the floor, against the door, over the kitchen table, against the balcony window, immediately she walked in, her skirt yanked up and her panties pulled to the side or ripped off.
My favourite memory from this time, one I masturbate to to this day, is of the first time I fucked Ellen in the arse. She had just walked through the door into the dark hall. Her back was turned to me as she hung up her coat on the back of the door. I walked up to her fast, pushing her against the coats. Immediately I forced her skirt up. She wasn't wearing any panties, as usual, just hold up stockings.
"You are a slut. You're dressed for fucking?" I whispered angrily in her ear. "Are you dressed like this for me or for your lover? Or did he keep your panties as a souvenir?"
She said nothing, just grunted as I forced three fingers into her vagina and pulled my hard cock out of my pants. She was wet -- she always was when she dressed like this. I drove straight into her hard, no delicacy. She gave a little scream.
"You're all sloppy," I hissed at her. "Have you been fucking some huge-dicked man at work? Is that his cum I can feel? You are a cock-hungry slut, my love. Fucked at work and coming home for more?"
I thrust into her, crushing her against the door, driving my excitement and my fury higher and higher at the imagined infidelity, my fantasy of her sluttishness. She arched her arse up to me. My cock came out of her as she moved. As I thrust back at her my dick was in suddenly against her arse, just the tip. I stopped briefly to see if Ellen would protest. She said nothing, and she didn't move. She just panted. I put my hand around my penis and carefully held the tip right against her tight arsehole. I pushed slowly into her, all the way. I held still, both of us getting used to the new sensation. Ellen was breathing fast, her mouth wide, but she didn't make a sound. No cry of pai, no moan, no objection or encouragement. I took hold of her hips and started fucking her very slowly.
"Do you like this bitch?" She whimpered then. I was flummoxed -- was this a yes or a no? "Am I the first to sodomise you?" Again, no answer. "No? Is this how your lovers like to do you, fuck you in the arse like some cheap corner whore?"
I pulled myself right out, so that only my cock head was inside Ellen. With all my weight and strength, I forced myself hard and fast into her. I wanted to hurt her, punish her. Ellen screamed, a high shout at the pain. Two or three thrusts, each accompanied by a high bark from Ellen and I held myself deep inside her, let cock spurt and twitch. When I'd finished, I wrenched myself out of her fast, again deliberately hurting her. She gave a little yell and slowly fell to her knees, crumpling onto her side.
He white arse was exposed and leaking cum streaked with a little blood. Her fleshy hips and arse were marked where my fingers had dug into her hard. There would be bruises. I looked at her for a few seconds, feeling powerful. I bent over, scooping up some cum that had leaked from her. I brought my fingers to her lips. She kept them shut and tried to turn away. I smeared the seamen on all over her face, scooping my mess from her leaking arse several times and soiling her face with it. I went back to the kitchen to finish my beer.
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That night we talked about what had happened. Ellen told me that it had felt like being raped. She admitted that it had been very exciting and that while I sat in the kitchen finishing my beer she had silently brought herself to an orgasm with fingers against her clit.
We cuddled late into the night, talking about my fantasy of her fucking others, of how excited she got playing the slut. We fucked again, slowly and tenderly, and after I'd cum inside Ellen, she did one of her favourite sexual things -- she had me lie on my back and straddled my face. I licked her cunt clean of my sperm as she came, and came and came.
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That was a long time ago, ten years, and so much has changed. I am not the lover, the man, I was then. As I watched her come down the stairs my cock grew immediately hard at the overt sexiness of her clothes. Ellen looked at me and a little smile crossed her face, half hidden behind her fringe.
"Cool it Jack. This is not for you. I want to turn Mr Webb's head. I couldn't decide whether to wear panties... but perhaps he'd be able to smell my wetness if I went bare. It's possible to be too slutty, isn't it?"
My heart sank and my cock throbbed. I felt faint. She was enjoying this, my discomfort, and she was really enjoying playing the slut again. I was completely in her power. I wondered what she wanted from the appointment at the bank. Ellen pulled up her skirt, past the stockings to show me the wet front of her frilly black knickers. I went straight to my knees and crawled towards her. I pushed my nose and mouth into her and breathed in deeply, rubbing my nose into her groove of her lips and licking the gauzy front of her panties. Stunned, I realised she'd shaved herself absolutely clean of hair. She let me do this for a few seconds and then grabbed my hair hard in her fist. "Get off me you dirty little dog. We need to go. Can't be late for Mr Webb."
I calmed down a little as I drove to the bank. We were silent. Ellen looked straight ahead composing herself. She hadn't dressed like this for many, many months. My getting on my knees and sniffing her cunt, like a "dirty little dog", was the only form of sexual contact we'd had in weeks. I forced myself to focus on the meeting with Mr Webb, get my mind on the task ahead.
At the bank we were ushered into a back office and offered a tea. Mr Webb eventually swept in, a great bear of a man of about 55 years old, very tall and fat and very, very black. We both jumped up nervously. He smiled mildly at me and shook my hand, crushing it until I winced. He took E's hand and shook it slowly and gently, holding on to it far too long. He smiled at her revealing a great mouth of white teeth. He looked her up and down, scrutinising her, making no attempt to hide his admiration.
"Ellen. You look lovely. Thank you both for coming in. Sit, sit, please."
He finally let go of her hand, got behind his desk and opened our file. He studied it for a few seconds, and looked up at us gravely.
"This is not a pretty sight. We have a problem here, Jack. How are we going to resolve this?" His eyes focused on me, bore into me, until I have to look away. "If I call in the loans, you are going to have to sell your home," he said gravely. Suddenly I felt like crying. I knew he was playing with me, but I felt overwhelmed and vulnerable. "But I have some... room for discretion here. I think we need to reschedule your loans and convert them into your mortgage and then look at you spending and income. This can be done, though it is going to entail a bit of sacrifice. What do you think?"
He was staring and smiling at Ellen, shamelessly looking at her tits. She sat straight and forward in her seat. Her knees set primly together, her bunched fists resting on them. This had the effect of pressing together her tits, and pushing them at Mr Webb.
