I sat back in the taxi and stared out of the rain-streaked window as we sped towards the airport. It had been a shit day and didn’t show much sign of getting any better.
The business trip had provoked yet another row between my wife, Annie and I and a serious conflict had only been avoided by the timely arrival of my ride. As usual she was complaining about the amount of time I spent out of the country on business and the relatively short amount of time that I devoted to her and our home life. As was the norm, I quoted our lack of resources due to her level of spending and reminded her that if we expected to continue to live up to our current lifestyle I must continue to travel overseas. Actually, my frequent business trips were not as bad as I usually made out; they did have their advantages. My last visit to the Far East had allowed me to share my hotel bed with a lovely, dusky Asian hooker called Lin. Her deep-throat technique was second to none and several of my nights there concluded with me shooting my cum down her tight little throat while my balls slapped merrily against her chin. And, of course, there had been many others; most business trips felt incomplete without some female company.
The rain outside the taxi was turning to a wet sleet that spattered against the window and, as I watched the city flash past me and the outer lying regions of the airport terminal loom in the distance, I reflected on Annie’s ability to spend our hard earned income so easily. This time it was the spare bedroom that she claimed was in such urgent need of restoration. She had clearly realised how I would react to this announcement and had combated the problem by conveniently forgetting to inform me that she had booked a couple of local lads to do the work. The first I knew about it was earlier that morning when two lean and muscular young workmen had arrived on our doorstep carrying ladders and paintbrushes. I’d thought that I’d caught a trace of an excited smile on Annie’s face as I was leaving and, just for a moment, I had the idea that just maybe …..? No, I concluded with a shake of my head. No, Annie wasn’t the type.
I flipped open a packet of Marlboro, applied my lighter to the tip and inhaled deeply. Blue grey smoke snaked from my lips and hung in the air lying like a slowly undulating blanket just under the ceiling of the car.
“I think you don’t have permission to smoke in my fucking car!” Cried the cab driver in a thick foreign accent.
I breathed in again and fixed him with a steely gaze. “Yeah? And I think you probably don’t have permission to work in my fucking country!” I countered. “So shut the fuck up, okay? I’m having a bad day!”
The interior of the car lapsed into a sullen, smoke hazed silence as we finally pulled up in front of the terminal and I exited the vehicle. The meter had read $14 and the rain trickled under the collar of my coat as I fished about for some cash. A twenty was the smallest note that I could find and I handed it to the driver awaiting my change. I received the same steely gaze in return as my swarthy chauffeur snatched the note, slammed the car in drive and sped off leaving me wet and angry by the side of the road.
My bad day continued as I stepped into the terminal and looked up at the departure board. The word “delayed” was only slightly less prolific than the word “cancelled” and, as I allowed my eyes to survey what few flights were actually leaving, I found to my chagrin that I wouldn’t be going anywhere that day. Bad day? This was turning into a fucking catastrophe!
Another taxi ride. Another driver. I guess I should really have taken a cab straight to my office and worked the day out. But, to be fair, I wasn’t really feeling like working so I decided to head home. With a bit of luck, I mused, the decorators would be finished and I could relax for the rest of the day.
The small, tatty van with the decorators name on it still stood outside my house when the taxi pulled up. Paying the driver (another twenty, but I didn’t really care now), I let myself in and dumped my bags in the hall. The house seemed unusually quiet but I was so rarely in at this time I really had little to compare it with. I looked around for Annie and/or the decorators without success. I was just about to make myself a cup of coffee when I heard a noise. It was coming from upstairs and I guessed that the men were still working in the bedroom so I decided that I would go and take a look – see how near they were to finishing.
But as I reached the top of the stairs and neared the bedroom, the sounds had become louder. I suppose I should have called out. I suppose I should have done a lot of things. But I didn’t. What I actually did was nothing. I simply stood to the side of the doorway – unobserved by my wife and the two men – and watched as two semi-clothed young decorators helped my blonde-haired wife out of her dress!
The shock of seeing my wife standing between the two men in a matching set of black underwear had left me mute with astonishment. I should have been outraged, of course. At the very least I should have been screaming out names of insult and derision but the sight of Annie kissing and groping the two men in her bra and panties was so hot I’d almost forgotten to breathe, let alone shout.
I felt a tingle of excitement run through me as I watched the taller of the two men reach behind Annie and unclasp her bra. Clearly there was no teasing here, no finesse. All the people in the room knew what they were there for and wanted to get on with it. As soon as my wife’s bra had fallen to the dustsheet-covered floor, the taller man had his hands on her pert, rounded breasts. I heard her moan quietly as his fingers rolled the nipples in his fingers and her sounds of lust were only curtailed when he pressed his lips to hers and pulled her to him in a lustful embrace.
Whilst his friend was kissing Annie, the second, slightly shorter man was squatting down and gently tugging my wife’s black lace panties down her legs. She stepped out of them almost gratefully and automatically seemed to stand with her legs apart so that her neatly trimmed pussy was available to anyone that wanted it. And Mr. Short did want it. In a second his face was pressed tightly to the vee between Annie’s legs and I just saw as his pink tongue darted out and swiped slowly between her sex lips. Annie moaned again – this time into Mr. Tall’s mouth – and I saw her legs begin to tremble with excitement. Mr. Short’s hands were clamped on her buttocks as he pressed her lower regions to his face and began to eat her pussy properly. She broke her lustful embrace with the taller decorator and groaned – deeply, this time.
