Please read part one first. As usual I invite and welcome all comments, that will enable me to improve as an author.
*****
After all the sex acts I had made my wife perform, I took it easy for awhile. I stopped her screwing anyone but me, and went back to normal. When I took stock of what I had done with Sara, I came to the conclusion that I must be some form of sexual inadequate. I seemed to hide away and take great delight in other peoples adventures, rather than my own.
Having said that, with my unlimited supply of tablets from the ever grateful grandfather, I did help myself to two of Sara's friends. I had always lusted after Rachel and Charlotte, not to mention the hot, little young girl, across the street. All of whom, think they had the best fuck of their lives with me!
I soon tired of living normally again, even though Sara did whatever I told her to in bed, I pretty quickly started to want more. I remembered how awful I felt putting my wife through what I had, but the need was returning.
Let me tell you about Gary Jones.
Gary Jones and I loathed and despised each other. We went to the same school from the age of eight. We don't know how it started, but we do agree, on the level of hatred it had reached. Throughout school and into adulthood, I was completely overshadowed and outshone by the asshole. He was bigger than me, he was better looking, he excelled at all sports, he got better exam results, and he had all the girls. To use sports type terms, he was, MVP - Pro-bowl - Star player all the fucking lot (He wasn't all that really, but compared to me he was.)
Although I had done ok, running my own small building business, Jones had been an academic. He now worked for a blue chip company in town. I saw him from time to time coming out of the fancy glass building, with his high flyer colleagues, all tanned, in his expensive suit and getting into his expensive car, with his drop dead gorgeous wife.
Are you getting the drift here?
I couldn't even kick his ass, he would murder me!
One night I was bored and in one of my moods. Sara was getting on my fucking nerves, nagging, so I sent the bitch out to get fucked for me.
I sent Sara to dress the way I liked her, She put on black stockings and suspenders (always suspenders, as I didn't like hold ups. I always liked the way the stocking raised slightly in the clasp) She wore a thong, half cup bra and high heels, which strapped around her ankles. A mini skirt and black silk blouse completed her appearance. This had become almost like a uniform for Sara. Over the months I had sent her out dressed in different ways and styles, but I always returned to this 'classic' look. So I simply settled for the one ensemble, every time I sent her out.
I ran Sara down to the club in the car and returned home, as I had some paperwork to finish. It would be awhile until she 'pulled' and awhile longer until the action started. I got engrossed in a problem I couldn't solve and suddenly realised the time. I jumped into the car and returned to the club. I took a peek into the lounge bar to see if I could see Sara, but she wasn't there. After a quick look around the rest of the club, realising she wasn't in any other part either, I quietly made my way to my usual vantage point.
Hoping I hadn't missed any of the action, and already getting a semi hard on, I took up my place. I was too late, Sara must have pulled straight away and gone outside with him almost as quickly. I could see shadows in the darkness and could see movement that looked like they were re-arranging clothing. They were finished.
"Damn," I thought.
That thought was to be the least of my worries, when out of the shadows, rearranging his cock in his trousers, wearing the most triumphant smirk that you have ever seen, walked Gary Jones.
I was fucking stunned.
I wanted to hit out at someone, I couldn't take it out on Sara, as I had controlled her and made her do this. I couldn't take it out on him, because I didn't want to admit, that I knew that he had had my wife and he would probably kick my ass, to go with fucking her.
For days I was desolate,
"Of all the people... Oh why did she pick him?... Oh God please not that bastard... Oh that horrible asshole had had my wife," All these thoughts wouldn't leave me.
For whatever reason, I don't know why, you will have to ask a shrink, but I had to hear all the details. Maybe I hoped to hear they didn't do anything, or he couldn't get it up, they were disturbed, anything, I was desperately clutching at straws.
This may sound stupid to you, because it damn well does to me. When I heard the full account from Sara, the things you wouldn't expect, were the ones that burned me the most. When I heard of my wife on her knees, in front of my mortal enemy, sucking his big cock, when I heard of her squealing on his big hard dick as he fucked her, the thing I thought of most, was that he had seen my Sara naked. I know that sounds stupid, but the thought of her opening her blouse and showing him her tits in the half cup bra, then exposing them fully to him was awful. The further thought of him peeling her panties down and gazing at her hairy pussy and her pink lips, sent me wild with rage.
As we sat at home, Sara was totally unaware that anything untoward had even happened. She sat on the sofa innocently having a late night coffee, and I knew her pussy was full of cum from the man, that I hated most in the entire world.
I decided I couldn't live with this bastard having had my wife. I needed to get to him and make him forget. I made an appointment to see him in his office, and turned up at the appointed time. I was kept waiting for thirty minutes sat on a chair outside his door. Eventually he must have tired of humiliating me, and I was shown into his office. He stayed seated behind his desk, the bastard knew why I was here, and he had the most shit-eating, arrogant grin on his face. He smirked at me and the look we gave each other as our eyes met said,
"We both know I have fucked your slut of a wife."
"So, what the fuck do you want?" was his opening line. I had to play for time, I needed to somehow get to his coffee, with a pill.
"Look Gary, I know we haven't seen eye to eye..." I started.
"Not seen eye to eye? He interrupted, I fucking hate you, you asshole," he laughed.
I tried to keep calm,
"Yes well, err, I mean well.. I blabbed like a simpleton, I hear you saw my wife the other night," I hadn't a clue where I was going with this.
He leaned forward and winked at me,
"I did a little more than see her, you tosser," he smirked.
"What can I do?" I thought.
If Jones had an Achilles heel, it was his dislike of the amount of foreigners, asylum seekers and benefit tourists in the town. Especially the angry Pakistani youth that lounged around all day.
"Fucking spongers," was his assessment.
I got my revenge.
Jones's wife Zoƫ was what you would expect, given his looks and position. She was younger than Jones, early forties I would guess. She was very pretty, petite, bleach blonde hair, small but perfectly formed breasts, a trim figure and an ass to die for.