The Trophy Wife

OK, in this one, Tony is a rich old man with a hot wife. He likes to show her off; she's his; he owns her. but in a bar one night while they holiday, Eleanor is kissed by a younger man, and she realises what she's been missing.

Loving Wives ... hmmmmmm. This should be interesting. Still ... *shrug*

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I hope you enjoy the tale despite the category. Firgive any errors I may have left herein.

GA - Isla Mujeres, Mexico. 28th June 2012.

*

She sits at the dressing table in hour glass perfection, posing as she always does, with her legs crossed at the thighs while she pouts and carefully paints her lips a princess pink. She sees him reflected, slouched against the door jamb and studying her exquisite spine and the feminine curve of her nudity, notices the constant suspicion, a shadow in funereal black in his mirrored eyes and she turns to regard him in reality. For a moment they wordlessly confront the two decades between them; and then anguine mistrust slithers away.

'Everything OK?' she asks and rubs the corner of her coral mouth and teases her sculpted blonde hair.

In a voice slick and low, his English accent indeterminate, he compliments her. 'You're looking gorgeous as usual, my dear.' She demurs with a lowering of eyelids and turns back to the glass. 'That hair colour ...' His eyes roll with gluttonous ecstasy.

The hair, she knows, is just how he likes it -- ash-blonde and piled atop her head. Everything about her, the nakedness complimented by the simple choker strand of pearls encircling her throat -- the symbolism of the collar, a stamp of ownership apparent; the earrings dangling; the manufactured breasts; the blush of her skin from the day's sun; manicured nails; the discrete tattoo and precise borders of her pubic bush, miniscule and decorative triangle that remains; all of it, she knows, is the way he likes it.

He nods and smiles and shows his wife a fortune of orthodontic artistry in a grin rimed with perennial fear of cuckoldry while she straps the shoes, chosen by him, around her ankles and carefully steps into the dress.

'Will I do?' she asks and pirouettes.

Stepping back with a forefinger at his chin he muses playfully.

'Beautiful,' he replies, as she knew he would.

They leave the air-conditioned opulence of the suite without speaking and the warm Mexican night embraces them as they stroll, she with dainty grace of long practice in her high shoes, he with a proprietorial air and a hand low on her back.

Look at her

, his expression says to the hawkers with their slightly desperate offers of cigars or weed. To the clod-hopping hoi-polloi, sunburned husbands, street vendors and touts, the affluent and the not, his smirk says:

look at her and lust after her. You can desire her and fantasise, devour her in your dreams, but she's mine; I alone can touch, kiss and taste her. Look upon her with envy and think of her next time you're with your own wife ...

He chooses a table close to the boulevard and seats his wife to the best advantage, her plumage dazzling amid the dowdy starlings. She arranges herself gracefully and avoids every male eye in the bar as ceiling fans suspended from the angled thatch whirr overhead. Pink lips purse around the straw as she sips at the minted mojito while the glass sweats beads of moisture.

Her eyes chance upon the young man, vernal and collegiate whose artless face regards her with open adoration. Some insidious instinct coils viscerally within her and she looks away quickly with a glance towards her ever-present and attendant spouse.

Later, after she leaves the table and visits the bathroom to repair her subtle make-up she hears a male voice and gasps.

'You're so beautiful,' the man says.

She turns, her eyes widening as her fingers go to her mouth. Her first thought was for her husband.

'What?' she asked. 'You shouldn't be in here ... This is the ladies ... My husb—'

Blue eyes pierced her with spears of intensity.

'I know. I'm sorry.' He grimaced. 'I wouldn't normally do this but ...' She shivered, not an unpleasant sensation, as his eyes slid over her body. '... I've seen you at the hotel ... by the pool ... and I ...' His eyes blinked like Bardic lamps, a signal of his desperation. 'Shit,' he muttered and combed his fingers through fair, slightly unkempt hair. 'I'm sorry,' he repeated. 'But I had to tell you how gorgeous you are. I know you're with him,' his chin jutted towards the door to the bar beyond, to where her husband waited like a Meerkat. 'And he's always with you,' the man continued, 'but I had to tell you how I feel about you. You're just so ...'

His voice dwindled to nothing for there was nothing he could say.

'He's my husband,' she said and looked into those blue pools of distress. Somehow his eyes held her there.

'I know, but he's ...'

'... Old?' The heels clicked on the tiled floor when she turned to face him, the wash basin and mirror behind her now. 'I know he's old, but I'm no spring chicken myself.' Regarding her anxious suitor she said, 'Anyway, how old are you?'

'Twenty-two,' he mumbled to his shoes.

'Then there's twenty years between us,' she said, pointing first to him and then turning the finger to herself. She then added, 'And twenty years between me and him.'

He took a step towards her, stopping when he saw her face.

His voice cracked when he said, 'I could make you feel so good.'

And she thought of it, all of it, in an instant. She reminded herself of the security of being a rich man's wife and then thought of the cost to herself, to her freedom and independence. She'd given herself completely to him, sold herself. He'd be in here at any moment too, checking on her, wondering where she was, why she was taking so long -- checking on his property; his investment.

But this young man, the desire in his face ... And she wondered at the physical pleasure to be had in his body. She studied him; saw the big shoulders and the definition in his arms. No doubt, if her were naked before her, she'd see the plates of pectoral muscle, a ridged stomach ... and very probably an iron hard tumescence she could hang a beach towel on.

'I bet you could,' she whispered and closed her eyes, just imagining his erection spearing into her vulnerable cunt. 'I just bet you'd make me feel good.'

Emboldened, he took another step. His fingers reached for her. A pulse fluttered like the heart of a hummingbird in her throat and she watched his hands as they came closer.

'I'd love to fuck you,' he sighed.

'We can't ...'

But he was on her then, with his fingers against the bare flesh of her arms and his mouth on her lips as his tongue slid between them and searched blindly for hers tongue.

A reckless jubilation surged through her and she returned his ardent kiss, snuffling and moaning into his mouth as the smouldering lust flared between her thighs.

'I want you,' he murmured. 'I want to fuck you so bad ...'

'Oh ...' she groaned. 'Oh, oh, oh ...' That word on his lips again called images to her mind. She saw herself naked and supine, her legs open to him and all of her exposed to his hungry stare. What would it feel like to have him inside her body, to feel the living thing gliding in and out, a sweet slide oiled by their desire?

'Eleanor!' she heard, and her heart froze.

***

The following evening, after a night and a day of name-calling, bullying, and finally tears, the husband perched on the edge of the bed. It seemed from his bent and dejected form that he wished it were the precipitous edge of an abyss into which he could just roll forward. His head snapped upright at the sound of the knock at the door and he looked towards his wife.

Her eyes gleamed as her voice curdled, 'He's here.' She looked towards the door with a cocktail of fear and anticipation churning and mixing greasily in her stomach, as though the man beyond was an anachronistic Viking intent on plundering her in the air-conditioned opulence of the suite.

After a pause she moved towards the door, quite naked save for black hold-up stockings and irresponsibly high shoes. With one hand on the handle she inhaled deeply. 'OK,' she said as the breath sighed from her. 'Here I go ...'

She stepped into the hall and smirked when she saw his jaw unhinge.

'I didn't think you were coming,' she said quietly as her arms enfolded his neck. She raised one knee and he, in automatic response, hooked a hand under her leg as she kissed his mouth. She held the kiss, thrilled by the possibility of being discovered, dressed for sex and draped around her soon-to-be lover as some vacationer wandered along the corridor.

He cupped a taut buttock in his palm. 'I ... I almost didn't,' he stammered. 'But I just ...' His eyes moved across all of her when she eased away from the embrace and took a backward step into the room. 'I had to come. I want you so much. Jesus,' he muttered and stroked a hand across his brow. 'You look so ... just so ...'

She laughed and turned. 'Come in,' she said, and with a hip-swaying catwalk gait walked away from the door.

Her husband looked up from his crookbacked regard.

'Do you have to do this?' he asked in a voice as tortured as his expression. 'Isn't there another way? Anything ...?

Not unkindly, she replied, 'I do. I'm sorry but I have to.'

The man moaned and hugged himself, elbows in his hands.

She steeled her resolve. 'It's a prison,' Tony, this marriage. You don't love me; I'm just another trinket for you to show off to your friends. You choose all my clothes, decide my hair colour, tell me where we're going and who we're spending time with ... You even persuaded me to have the boob job so you could dress me up like some shopfront mannequin ...' She sighed. 'I don't know ... I thought we'd talked this through.' She reminded her husband of discussions since his discovery the evening before. 'All we did for most of last night and all of today was talk about this. I want to do it ... I need to do it. I didn't want to sneak around and have an affair behind your back ... I do have respect for you, Tony ... but I can't go on the way we were. If it's divorce,' she shrugged, 'then so be it.' She waited for a response in vain with breasts atop her folded arms. When none was forthcoming she continued with, 'You don't have to stay and ... watch ...'

His bleak-eyed interjection came then: 'I have to watch.'

Eleanor shrugged. 'He wants to watch us,' she said to the young man standing awkwardly behind her. She turned to face him. 'What do you think?'

He swallowed heavily as his eyes once again roved over every soft contour. 'I ... I don't care,' he said in a treacly voice. 'I just want you ...'

She glanced a final time at her husband and then, to her lover she said, 'Come and get me then ...'

***

The captain of industry watched his wife walk to her lover. They embraced and kissed. The young man's hands came round and squeezed the globes of his wife's buttocks.

He heard her voice, so familiar to him, silky and low, say, 'Come on, let's get you undressed.' Torture as, when the young man had disrobed, his wife added gleefully, 'Oh my, now that's impressive.'

Cuprous bile threatened when the faithless bitch kissed her lover again. The kissing was the most difficult to bear, suggesting an intimacy he'd not enjoyed with the woman for some time. Even when she knelt, supplicating herself before that tumescence and taking a full-fisted grip on it and licked the domed head of it for the first time it was less of an ordeal to witness.

His wife laved and slurped and poured praise along with viscous saliva onto the stiff, thick length of the young man's cock. She gabbled wide-eyed enthusiastic praise at the latent power of the ordnance in front of her face, almost unhinging her jaw to accommodate the ardent girth of the cannon's thick circumference.

'Is that good?' the blonde crooned after sucking herself hollow-cheeked. 'Do you like that? Me sucking your cock?'

'Shit,' the young man grimaced, his eyes clenched in his twisted face. 'Everything about you is ...' He gasped and left it unsaid when she took hold of him down at the root, the heel of her hand at the tight sac of his scrotum as she stroked the length of him slowly.

'Don't come yet,' she warned in a voice dark with menace. 'Not until you've licked me and fucked me ...'

The old man sat on the bed and watched in slack-jawed, morbid fascination.

'My wife,' he muttered. 'My beautiful wife ...'

The woman turned her head, still on her knees with the boy's erection in her fist. Drool slimed her chin as she looked at her husband.

'Thank you for this,' she sighed, smiling. 'Thank you, Tony.' And then she smiled at her lover, her face uptilted. 'Lick me,' she grinned. 'I think you'll explode if you put it in now, so just lick me first, make me come.'

The couple moved to the other bed, she leading him by the penis. She settled on her back and folded her long legs at the knees. The fingers of her left hand, the third bejewelled and encircled by the wedding band, splayed the lips of her sex.

'Lick me,' she breathed, exposing herself to his gaze.

He knelt on the carpet and hooked his fingers under her buttocks. Pulling her to the edge of the bed, he leaned in, ducking forward to taste the essence siping from the opening. The woman groaned and pulled her knees back towards her shoulders. Her fingers thrust into his hair. She encouraged him to push his squirming tongue deeper, to lave at her clitoris, to explore her with his fingers.

The old man, still watching from his lonely bed looked down into his lap. With some surprise in his expression he unzipped his trousers and examined the shrivelled giblet within. As he listened to the soft moans from his wife the thing between his legs, hitherto dormant for some three years, twitched and unfurled slowly like some cyclopean beast awakening from hibernation.

He coaxed a resurrection with a forefinger and thumb while the pair on the other bed continued, oblivious to the miracle growing alongside them.

Obscene liquid sounds came from between the woman's legs as the young man worked at her, his chin smeared with her desire.

The blonde's eyes opened when she sensed a shadow pass by her side. She looked up to see her husband, his legwear shucked to his knees and a febrile erection jutting from the grey matt of his pubic bush.

'Tony?' she croaked. Noticing her husband's arousal, and sensing its fragility, Eleanor reached for him. 'Let me suck you,' she murmured. 'Put it in my mouth, darling.'

Eager as a puppy, with myriad scenarios running through his entrepreneur's brain Tony, survivor of many a boardroom clash, clambered onto the bed. Eleanor would remain his trophy wife, men would still envy him, and this way, if he shared her, allowed her to fuck and be fucked, he would keep her as his. He reasoned that catching her kissing another man could work well for him. After all, hadn't his penis, asleep for so many months and years, suddenly flourished? Wasn't his beautiful wife now kissing his phallus tenderly?

'Keep licking me, baby,' Tony heard his wife say when her lover raised a curious face from between her thighs. 'Keep sucking my clit ...' And with some wonder lifting her voice, she added, 'It's just my husband come to play too.'

The boy bent back to his task and Eleanor kissed the tip of her husband's penis.

'Is this for me?' she asked her husband, her eyes shining; an then her face twisted into a snarl. 'Oh, fuck,' she groaned to the man between her legs. 'Lick it there ... Just there ... that's it ...'

Tony knelt on the bed, back bowed to offer his fragile new erection to his wife. His fingers pushed through her hair, a sausage-fingered comb that wreaked havoc on the carefully coiffure pile.

'I wasn't happy,' Tony mumbled as his wife, wall-eyed with the onrush of her climax stared up at him unseeing. 'But I'm starting to think I could get used to this.'

'Oh, fuck ... Tony, kiss me. I'm going to come. Kiss me ... please.'

Tony kissed his wife, his tongue sliding past petrolatum pink lips to find hers wriggling and alive. She gasped and breathed into his open mouth as she came, grunting her lover's name.

The two men stared at each other in an odd moment of awkwardness when Eleanor, in a lithe, athletic movement, her body jack-knifing, heels scything dangerously, rolled across the bed and stood.

With hands against her hips she studied her husband. 'Tony,' she began as she pointed a pink fingernail. 'You're hard ... I haven't seen you stiff for ...' Her pink lips clamped shut at her gaffe.

The young man, his chin smeared with mucus rose to his feet, uncertain in his nudity and this turn of events. Eleanor's attention was diverted by his movement. 'Put it in me,' she said. 'Fuck my pussy while my husband fucks my face.' She leered at Tony and dropped a slow, lascivious wink. 'What do you say, darling? Would you like to fuck my mouth? Do you think you could make me gag with that hard cock of yours?'

Her husband growled as his eyes flicked towards his young rival. 'I think I can manage that,' he snarled. He stared belligerently at the young man, his eyes flashing, hot coals of renewed lust for his trophy wife. 'You can take care of my wife's cunt,' he said generously. 'I'll look after everything else.'

Eleanor took a small packet from the bedside table. She tore off a corner and approached her young lover.

'Protection, darling,' she said while her fingers rolled the gossamer thin condom over the boy's penis. 'I don't want your swimmers getting me in the club, eh.' Her husband's impotence had rendered birth control unnecessary but the young man, probably brimming with fertility, was a different story. 'Oh my,' Eleanor purred and arranged herself on the bed. She knelt, palms down and straight-armed and she looked back over a shoulder. 'Put that thing in me and fuck,' she murmured. Turning to face her husband who had moved to the foot of the bed, she said, 'Come on, Tony, show me how much iron you have in that cock. Fuck my face and make me gag.'

'Look at me,' Tony growled when his wife's mouth closed over him. 'Let me see those big, beautiful eyes ...'

'Oh, shit, she's so tight,' the young man groaned as, with Eleanor mumbling incoherent words through a mouthful of hard cock, his penis nudged the corolla of the blonde's piss-flaps and he penetrated her.

He looked down at the woman's body, taut and athletic, her buttocks trembling when he thrust against her. His hands moved over her back, gliding palms over soft skin until, like some malefic beast intent on doing her harm, the man bent to crouch low over her spine and licked the tender side of her throat while his arms encircled her waist. He jabbed his cock into her and grunted and lifted those heavy breasts in his hands, squeezing and pawing the dense fruit.

'Oh fuck, do it to me, baby,' the woman groaned. She dropped Tony's penis from between her sucking lips and her head fell forward, loose and unhinged at her neck. She clawed fistfuls of bedding and sobbed while strands of hair fell loose. Eleanor, her face masked with slack-jawed idiocy born of lust, her eyes glazed, the lids heavy, groped for her husband's cock. 'Tony,' she mumbled.

With his wife pawing the air, Tony held her cheek and offered his cock to her mouth.

'Here,' he growled and smeared the woman's face with the dribbling end. 'Suck it.'

Not a word passed between Tony and the young man; no communication other than venemous coruscations sparking from their eyes as both vied for the woman's attention. As was his way Tony used crude obscenity to dominate his wife. Using degrading appellations he forced his rejuvenated penis into her mouth, cruelly pushing himself beyond where she was comfortable. Eleanor chocked and gagged, small tears sliding from the corners of her eyes while her husband poured epithets and accusations of previous sexual transgressions upon her blonde crown.