"The Wolf's Teeth Around My Wife's Throat."
By Lust Darkly.
A two part story.
Part 1.
Was that my wife in that car? Was that Karen? No. It couldn't have been. Could it? No. She's still in the club doing... God knows what. Isn't she?
Sigh!
I never thought I'd write another one of these accounts. Sitting here in the dark bedroom with a sad boner, our baby Lilly snoring softly in her little bed beside me. Nearly two years old now. She looks so much like Karen. But... if don't get this down on paper I may just lose my fucking mind! My heart is on the outside of my body. And it's racing.
God knows I've fantasised about jumping off a bridge or hanging myself from the light fixture for her to discover. That'd teach her for cheating. Self indulgent nonsense of course. I'd never do such a thing. I'd never leave this little creature beside me. I'd never leave Karen either for that matter. Despite everything she makes me endure.
No. I'd never leave this dear little creature. I love her with every fibre. Whether she's my biological daughter or not. I tenderly rub her little head. Her entire back fits into the palm of my hand and I smile, regarding again the freckle configuration on the back of her neck that exactly matches James Thompson's, my wife's former lover.
No one else seems to have noticed this. Not James. Or Karen. Only me.
Doesn't matter. She's my daughter. It won't stop me loving her.
I just wish... I wish I could rescue Karen. I want my wife back.
My wife, my beautiful, tiny, perfect, glorious wife Karen.
Sigh! I'm getting ahead of myself. Everything's coming out at once. I need to calm down. Go back to the beginning.
I was present when our daughter was born. I was in the actual room, I mean. Lilly didn't just pop out of thin air. But... to look at Karen now... at her sexy little body... never in a million years would you think she'd had a baby! She doesn't have a single stretch mark. Perhaps it was because Lilly was so small or maybe it was because Karen hit the gym "like a motherfucker". Her words. Not mine. "I'm off to hit the gym like a motherfucker." she chirps happily, wiggling her perfect little ass in spandex shorts, kicking her huge trainers and blowing me a kiss. She has a personal trainer - several personal trainers in fact! The guys in the gym help her out. James's friends. The athletes. Those guys!
I'll never forget the image of Samantha, Karen's best friend, posing nude for those men when she lost a bet. Right there in the middle of the gym! Glistening with sweat... and semen... because one cheeky little fucker couldn't hold his load. He ejaculated all over her and she figured, may as well let the rest of them too. They covered her perfect athletic body. God. What a sight it was.
But the men are strictly professional when it comes to helping Karen. Or so she tells me. I do kind of believe her. Getting her perfect figure back was everything to her. She even goes to the gym in the middle of the night when the place is empty, with only a skeleton crew staff. She has the place entirely to herself. It's a luxury gym in the centre of London. James pays for it.
But anyway, Karen's succeeded in getting her perfect figure back and then some. She's fitter now than she's ever been. She and Sam ran the London Marathon three months ago with the guys. And made excellent times. They climbed up mount Snowdon and are planning a few weeks in the Lake District to tackle those peaks too. Her waist is thin as a wasps and there's more definition there than I actually would like. She's almost ripped! There's even a little trace of a six pack at certain times. Her boobs are a little bit smaller than before (and that is a tragedy!) but they're perfect in every way. Perfect double D-cups. Her nipples are high and more sensitive than before. I regularly make her cum just by sucking and working them with my fingers - a feat I'm secretly very proud of. Her gorgeous hips give her an hour glass figure that Jessica Rabbit would approve of and her beautiful brown hair cascades down her back nearly to her tight full ass.
But she's not happy.
Karen never suffered from postnatal depression. She adores Lilly. She plays with her all the time and takes her out to the park and swimming and coffee and all that. She doesn't look like a Mum though. An older sister, yes. Passersby frankly don't believe her when she tells them she's Lilly's Mum and some have even been rude, judging her with dubious frowns. Most women would take it as a compliment but it upsets Karen. Perhaps if she spent more time changing nappies and dealing with tantrums she might conform better to that shape of Motherhood but James and I tend to those grimmer duties and she never has to. She swoops in for the fun stuff and swoops away again like fathers' used to in more traditional times. She's free to pursue her interests - her friends, shopping, reading, hiking, dancing. And you'd think this would make her happy but she's not. She hasn't been happy for a long time now... and she won't confide in me. The more I try to get her to... the more she pushes me away. I irritate her to the point that she'll storm off in a rage.
We make love often. Not as often as I'd like. I don't think our lovemaking satisfies her even though I'm considerate and attentive and make her achieve orgasm every time. I think that might actually be the problem. I think I might be too nice! I sense she wants more. She wants what James Thompson used to give her before the baby. She wants to be pounded into next week and used like a cheap rag.
I discovered that tonight.
But James is tame now. She still spends an occasional night at his apartment but always comes home frustrated and I can tell he didn't fulfill her needs. He plays a big part in our lives having taken over nanny duties entirely. He dotes on Lilly and spends a lot of time with her. And so does Mr. Rippendale, our elderly neighbour. He is our second male-nanny, I suppose. John Rippendale. He's the old fella who lives across the street. He was Karen's lover too. James and John. She no longer has sex with him either, for fear of giving the poor old fella a heart attack.
James Thompson, for those who don't know our history, was a boy I went to school with. Back then he was my tormentor and bully. In adulthood, he continued this tradition by becoming my wife's lover. I came to terms with it. I didn't really have a choice. It's okay. We're not exactly friends, James and I. I used to hate him but I dunno... nowadays we get along. Sometimes he's kind. Like tonight. He took me to the Cordialis Club. To cheer me up.
When James first hooked up with my wife, he revelled in misbehaviour. He screwed my wife morning, noon and night, taking her away for days on trips around the world, tormenting me by texting pornographic photos of her. He went so far as to have a photographic print of her made and hung it proudly in his lavish studio apartment for all the world to admire. It was as big as a fucking pool table and absolutely obscene! Karen is on top of him in the full-Nelson position. Both are naked and facing the camera. She's on his lap with her legs pinned back to her chest by his strong arms, her feet pointing up into the air with tennis shoes on and his hands are linked behind her head. The bottom two thirds of the photo are taken up by his giant cock stretching out her glistening pussy. Her breasts are squashed together and she's laughing. As I said, it's obscene.
He also used to fuck her in his car, outside our house, when he brought her home. Not caring if our neighbours saw. He'd keep her clothes and force her to run to our front door wearing not a stitch. Totally nude! This is where Karen's second lover entered our history. On one of these nights I wasn't at home and Karen couldn't get in! James had already peeled away in his fancy sports car and mortified and panicked and naked as the day she was born, Karen was stranded and helpless on our doorstep... ashamed as Eve leaving the Garden of Eden. Mr. Rippendale, our pensioner neighbour across the cul-de-sac gave her sanctuary and in return, she gave him her body... and her heart. Not caring that he's more than double her age, old enough to be her grandfather in fact, she gave herself to him completely. Lucky old bastard.
I can't stress that enough! The luck of this old man!
Karen adopted this kinky quirk where, in his company, she insists on being nude! Completely fully nude! Even if he's in our house watching TV as he is most nights. She still does it! She lies cuddled under his arm and he strokes her ass, her boobs, hardly even aware he's doing it! The second he walks in the door, off come her clothes! Not just that... her three best friends have also adopted her tradition! Samantha, Kay and Michelle... they all followed suit! Four fucking goddesses! When they visit John's house for afternoon tea, which is very often, four of the most beautiful women you can possibly imagine... they don't wear clothes in his house! Never! How can this be?! Lucky, lucky old man!
He's a good bit older now and despite his best efforts and encouragement from the girls, he's not as virile as he once was. Sometimes I don't think he even registers their nakedness. Perhaps this is why the girls feel as comfortable as they do around him. That being said, he does enjoy watching the girls making out for his pleasure. I caught them the other day. Unaware, I entered John's house to borrow something and Kay and Michelle, completely nude, were French kissing on the couch while Samantha lovingly played with his huge soft cock, cuddled into the crook of his arm. Karen wasn't even present! The four of them are devoted this old man. This lucky, lucky old man.
