I had been suspecting for a while now that my young wife was having an affair. There had been little hints and signs: coming home from work to find that my wife had taken a shower in the middle of the afternoon; her eagerness to 'surprise' me now and then with a home-cooked dinner and pampering massage; the way she sometimes abruptly hung up on her cell phone when I would walk into the room (and the fact that she got a new cell, one that had a password lock on the memory).
And then there was the new lingerie I had found in the laundry basket, a set I had never seen before and which had obviously been worn . . . with another man's dried cum in the gusset of the panties.
At first, I was furious. It was a good thing Alexis was out of town that weekend with her mother; I might have acted on my first impulse and strangled her right then and there. But as it turned out, the fact that she wasn't going to be around for another two days was the best thing for me.
After I calmed down, I thought about it. Why would my wife cheat on me? I doted on her, gave her what she wanted without spoiling her, treated her with love and affection. We had a healthy sex life, and I knew I took care of her needs in bed. I wasn't smothering, had never tried to keep tabs on her. I was, if I say so myself, the perfect husband.
I sighed. But then, I was thirty-seven and my wife was twenty-three. She was young, gorgeous, wild and kinky. Two years before, when we met in a nightclub, Alexis was working as a topless dancer and juggling a couple of boy-toys. In fact, that very night, she had been at the club with 'a friend,' but she dumped him like an old pair of panties to hook up with me. I was, as they say, the 'total package:' affluent, stable, good-looking and in great shape. Alexis had thought I was no older than twenty-nine and thought that I was 'really hot' for a man of any age.
Her eyes flashed when I told her I owned my own company, her pussy dripped when I showed her to my convertible BMW, and she swooned when she took out my eight-inch tool and, right there in the parking lot, with the top down (hers
and
the car's), started blowing me.
At first, I figured, Alexis just wanted a one-night stand. She fucked like a demon and did every kinky thing I suggested. In the morning, instead of asking me to take her home, she asked me to call in to work and stay home to
make love
to her all day. Well, a week later, Alexis moved in; four months later, I proposed; six months after that, wedding bells were ringing. Damn, she looked gorgeous that day. I literally thanked God for sending me an angel.
My friends and business partners commended me on my choice of bride. Alexis, for her part, flaunted herself like a trophy wife eagerly, even if she did embarrass me sometimes. Men leered at her voluptuous, curvy body (a sexy 38D-24-38 packed in a five-foot-seven frame) and long, flowing, natural blonde hair, her luscious lips, and wicked green eyes.
At pool parties, my wife was barely decent in her skimpy French bikini. At dinner functions, she wore tight strapless numbers or flimsy dresses with deeply plunging necklines that showed a lot of leg and cleavage (and sometimes more, if she moved too suddenly or bent over). Maybe her behavior was scandalous, making the middle-aged wives of my investors and partners blush and whisper under their breath. But Alexis turned me on.
Still, I suppose it wasn't enough for her. Alexis always liked pushing the envelope. Once, while we were shopping in the mall, Alexis, clad in a denim mini-skirt and no panties, tried on pair after pair of shoes, with the help of a pimple-faced young salesman who knelt before her. I got a charge out of watching him stare at my wife's beautiful blonde cunt, and couldn't wait to fuck her.
In a way, maybe her betrayal was partially my fault. I encouraged her exhibitionism, mainly because it turned me on, but also because it got her going, too. I guess it wasn't too much of a stretch that she would go from letting men look to letting them touch.
My wife, the slut
, I thought heavily, dropping her soiled panties back in the hamper. Married barely a year and she's already stepping out on me.
My first impulse was to find some eager young thing and fuck the hell out of her. But that would have been too cheap, and ultimately unsatisfying. No, I had to teach Alexis a lesson. I had to show her how much her infidelity had hurt me.
And just like that, the idea came to me. Like an aggressive seed, it grew quickly, germinating into a complex plan.
By Sunday night, I had it all worked out. With morbid glee, feeling like a mad scientist eager to play out his latest scheme, I awaited the return of my wife the following afternoon.
***
Alexis squealed like the dutiful wife she pretended to be when she saw me in the airport terminal, and wrapped her sexy body around mine. I put on a good show, surprising myself with how good an actor I was as I groped and kissed my wife, all the while repulsed by her. I wondered if Alexis had met some former boyfriend back home, and 'relived the good old days.' Was I kissing a mouth that had recently been filled with another man's semen?
I tried not to gag at the thought.
"How's your mother?" I asked as we got to the car. I put her bags in the trunk, opened the door to let Alexis in.
She gave me a sexy smile and casually groped my crotch. "She's good," she said. "She sends her best. How's my big boy? Miss me?"
I smiled.
I'm pissed as hell, you cheating bitch!
"Anxious to see you naked," I said.
My wife pursed her lips and gave me a sultry look. "Ooo," she cooed. "Wanna take me home and fuck my brains out?" she asked with a giggle.
I smiled, headed around the car. I felt the stirring of an erection, but it was not inspired by my wife. "Actually, I need to stop at the office real quick before going home," I said as I got behind the wheel. "You don't mind, do you, honey?"
Alexis pouted. "Well . . . I guess not," she said, then smiled. "It's good to be back home, baby. I missed you so much. I love you."
I forced the words out while maintaining my fake smile. "I love you, too," I said, and started the car.
***
My company was a product distribution warehouse, thirty thousand square feet with a collection of offices in a loft construction at one end. Normally, my eighteen employees would be busy at work, sending and receiving shipments as trucks came and went. But I had given everyone the day off with pay. I told them it was a reward for being such good employees. Hell, I could afford it; I made an annual profit of damn near three hundred grand.
My personal office was pretty nicely furnished, with big bay windows that overlooked the wharf and shipping piers outside. Carpeted and furnished with a big leather couch, a couple of chairs, a conference table and my big mahogany desk, my office was my home away from home. There was even a private bathroom with a shower stall. Alexis and I had fooled around now and then in the office. I had taken her many times from behind as she leaned over my desk, her skirt pushed up and panties around her ankles.
Hmm
, I thought.
Gonna have to get a new desk.
I lead Alexis through the door, closed it behind me. I pretended to busy myself with some papers on my desk as my wife sat down on the couch. I could tell she was thinking about the times we had fucked in the office, by the naughty smile on her face.
"What are you thinking about, honey?" I asked casually as I scribbled on some blank paper, pretending to sign documents.
Alexis breathed in, smoothing her hands up and down her tight jeans. She looked around wistfully. "Oh . . . nothing," she said with feigned innocence.
I chuckled. My cock was getting harder with anticipation. My own jeans were getting a little tight. My bulge was showing. "Oh, I think I know what you're thinking," I said, turning to face her.
My wife's eyes fell to my crotch, and she licked her lips. Her cheeks colored as arousal washed through her.
Yeah, that's it, baby, get turned on like the good little whore you really are.
"Looks like we're thinking the same thing," she said in that breathy, I-wanna-fuck-right-now way of hers. How many men, I wondered had heard that voice? Alexis' eyes glowed.
"Maybe," I said, feeling a shiver of anticipation at her impending humiliation. My wife took that as arousal.
She bit her lip seductively. "Come here, baby," she said, turning toward me as she sat.
I pretended to give in, and approached her. Her face was level with my crotch. I looked down at her face β
so beautiful! So treacherous!
β and caressed her soft blonde hair. Alexis stared back at me, her green eyes glazing with lust. Her hands came up and started massaging my cock through my jeans as it grew.
"I think it's time you gave me that welcome-home mouth fuck I've been dreaming about all weekend," she said heatedly.
I smiled. I couldn't believe how well Alexis was playing into my hands. "Oh, have you, now?" I asked her.
My wife nodded, keeping her eyes locked on mine. Her fingers groped and lightly scratched my bulging shaft. Still staring up at me, she leaned forward and gently bit my cock through the layer of denim that encased it. I groaned for effect.
"I want you, baby," she whispered. "Being away for three days was excruciating. I need my husband, baby. I need him to fuck me. Right here, right now."
My dick was throbbing. "Oh, you're going to get fucked, all right," with more meaning than she could fathom.
Alexis grinned, and started undoing my belt. "You remember that time, on our honeymoon cruise, when we were on the side deck? And you had just a towel over you?"
I sighed as Alexis pushed my jeans down, exposing my heavy cock. She gave the head a playful lick. "How could I forget?"
Alexis worked my jeans down, started taking off my shoes. "I just kept sucking you, and we kept getting interrupted as we heard people coming around the corner," she continued as I stepped out of my shoes. Alexis held my jeans as I stepped out of them, nude now from the waist down. Her hands slid up my muscular thighs as she stared up at me in arousal.