Cuckquean Ch 02

Chapter Two

She didn't move.

I gave her my best smile, the one that I honed to perfection when I would ask the local car dealer or hardware store owner for sponsorship for my son's baseball team, and the one that still served me well when I talked to someone from the City Council or the County Commission about support for the Senior Citizen's Center or a music festival.

"Come in, Lori," I said, being careful to say her name as I had been taught in one of a dozen fundraising or leadership seminars, "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

She still didn't move so I stepped forward, covering the small distance between us, and kissed her softly, my over-lipsticked lips leaving a tiny red smear.

Then I whispered, my mouth so close to her ear that my breath would be warm and moist, "It's okay, Lori, I know and I understand."

Her eyes met mine and I saw the glint of understanding, and of change. Her grin was sudden, full of victory. She turned and threw her arms around David's neck and pulled him down into a hard kiss. And I knew I had won.

I stepped back in a gesture of welcome and they entered my home, her two hands on his arm, very possessive, his on her hip, equally possessive. I felt the first tiny rush of anticipation, very deep in my belly, as I watched.

They sat on the couch then, together. He was leaning back and she was snuggled into the crook of his arm, as he and I used to sit.

"Get us a beer, Martha," Lori said, that grin almost predatory now.

I went to the kitchen, got two mugs from the freezer, and poured the craft beer that was David's favorite this week, something called "Alexander's Special Red" if it matters, set them on our little silver serving tray, and went back to serve my husband and his lover, my back straight as I walked.

When I got to the couch David said, "serve properly, Martha." So I eased to my knees, glad the Voltaren worked so well on my arthritic knees, and offered the tray with two hands, my eyes downcast. I had been doing a LOT of thinking and had expected to be required to serve so I was ready.

The next request did surprise me although, looking back, I suppose I should have expected it, or something close to it anyway. Lori wanted to establish her place in the pecking order of course.

"My feet are sore, Martha," she said, "rub them."

But I didn't hesitate. I unbuckled the ankle straps of her fuck-me shoes and pulled them off. Her feet, like the rest of her really, were plump and cute, with short toes with tiny nails, no arch to speak of, a light tracing of blue veins across the tops, and very distinct tendons running to her toes.

I started at the little toe of her left foot, gently rolling it between my thumb and forefinger. I stretched it and bent it back and then down, spread it away from the other toes. I took my time, tracing the cuticle of the tiny nail. When I was satisfied I lifted it, kissed it, and started on the next toe.

"That's nice, Martha," she said in a soft breathy voice and when I looked up I saw that David was kissing her, a deep, thorough kiss, his left hand caressing her cheek while his right was entwined in her hair.

I kept doing as I was told, though, attending to each toe in turn, thoroughly, carefully, finishing it with a kiss, all the while watching my husband making love to this other woman, kissing her as we had kissed thousands of times, his hands exploring her as they had once explored me. The big surprise was how much I was enjoying this while David's kisses got more intense and his hands started exploring.

By the time I got to the big toe of her left foot, he had the top three buttons of her blouse undone and his hand had disappeared inside her bra. I smelled the first faint whiff of her excitement as I started on her right foot.

When she whispered, "that's right, baby," I'm not sure if she was talking to him or to me. I don't think he was either.

By the time I was finished with her right foot he had her bra pulled up and her perky little titties were on display. They were small, very small, I guessed barely an A cup. Her areolas were small too, the size of quarters, and her nipples barely larger than a boy's. They were very pink and very cute.

As I watched he rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and her breath caught.

My breath caught as well, my own nipples tightening in sympathy.

He came up for air long enough to say, "my feet could use a rub too."

So I did his feet as I had hers. And I watched as she buried her face in his neck. She stayed there for the best part of a minute and when she pulled away I saw she had planted a damn hickey on his neck. When I saw it I got a rush deep in my belly. I realized every time I saw that mark I would relive this moment.

I liked it.

By then I had started on his right foot and he said, "God, you vampire," and buried his face in her neck. I knew what he was doing and I felt a sympathetic tingle in my own neck, almost matching the sudden rush of pressure deep in my belly.

"Did you make something to eat, Martha?" David asked.

I looked up, smiled, and said "yes."

"You know what would be nice?" Lori asked.

"What's that?" David and I responded in unison, that perfect harmony you gain only after a decade of marriage, making us both laugh a little.

"If she served us in bed," Lori said, talking to David as if I wasn't there.

He chuckled and said, "I do believe you're right."

"But first," Lori said, continuing to talk to David, ignoring me, "it would be nice if she helped us undress."

"Why, I do believe that is an excellent idea," and now David was talking to her, ignoring me.

David patted me on the head and said, "go turn down the bed, Martha."

I stood, careful to keep my eyes downcast, and went into the bedroom. There I turned down the bed and fluffed the pillows while they, I assumed, finished their drinks.

I stood beside the door, waiting.

Eventually, they came in.

"Me first," Lori said, standing beside the bed.

So I went to her, unbuttoned the two remaining buttons of her blouse, and slipped it off of her plump arms. She stood still, doing nothing to help but nothing to hinder either. When I slipped the bra down her arms the back of my hand brushed her breast, small, firm, and warm.

"You like that?" she asked, "wanna play with my boobs?"

When I didn't say anything she cupped my chin in her palm, forcing me to meet her eyes.

"I asked you a question, Martha," she said, needing to look up to meet my eyes but still exuding dominance in this tableau.

"I want to please," I said, using the line I had been practicing in my mind all morning.

"Finish undressing me," she said.

I got to my knees again, found the button of her slacks, got it undone, and then got the zipper unzipped and worked the slacks past her big hips. Once past the roundness of her hips, the slacks fell to pool at her feet.

I was surprised to find her in panties, not a thong or something. Hell, for that matter I was kind of surprised to find her in underwear at all. The panties were plain white cotton, what we all think of as granny panties since Bridget Jones' Diary hit the big screen.

"Go on," she said when I hesitated.

Her breath caught, the first real sign any of this was affecting her at all, when I started rolling them down. Her belly button was a cute little outie and she gasped when I bent forward and sucked it quickly. Just below the belly button, her very thick, very curly, VERY red pubic hair started. As I rolled the panties down past her big ass she grabbed my hair and pulled me to her, her fingers entwined in my hair, not pulling and hurting but controlling as she rubbed my nose and cheeks into that thick thatch of hair.

"Call that a preview," she said, releasing me.

My hands were trembling as I finished rolling the panties down and she stepped off of them.

My nipples were so hard they hurt.

That pressure, deep in my belly, was building even more.

"Don't forget me," David said from behind me.

I giggled softly, nervously I suppose, stood, and turned to him.

My breath caught and I felt a rush between my legs as I saw that mark on his neck. He chuckled as I touched it lightly.

I finished unbuttoning his shirt, tugged it free from his pants, pulled it over his arms, and tossed it into the corner. Then I got to my knees. I remembered somewhere reading, or maybe it was hearing, that a woman's natural position was on her knees. I smiled as I realized I was starting to believe that whoever had said or written that was right.

I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned the pants, unzipped him, and worked them past his slim hips before I let them fall to pool at his feet. He had on black boxers tonight and I pulled them past his hips and let them drop.

He was erect, as hard as I had ever seen him, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to bend forward and take him into my mouth.

Lori's fingers twisted in my hair and yanked my head back. This time she was pulling and hurting. She was hurting me enough that I reached up to grab her wrist to ease the pressure and the pain.

"Maybe later, Martha," she said, each word accompanied by a twist and a yank, making me cry out, "if you're a very good girl you can have sloppy seconds. But first he's MINE!" the last word accompanied by a hard pull that made me yell, "OKAY!" and grab her wrist, pulling it, desperate to ease the pain.

"Now go get whatever it was you made for us to eat," she snapped.

In the kitchen I stopped and leaned against the counter, breathing hard.

My nipples were so hard they hurt and I could feel the wetness between my legs. I reached down, pulled up the dress and the silly petticoat, and touched. I was not surprised to find myself wet and sticky through my panties.

I breathed hard for a minute, touching myself. I thought about masturbating quickly, but wanted to make this, well, this experience, linger.

I took the big tray I had prepared and covered with Saran Wrap out of the refrigerator and the bottle of Chianti out of the cabinet. I opened the bottle and filled the wineskin he had brought to our marriage. I took a half dozen deep breaths, straightened my back, and picked up the tray, and walked into my new life.