Windows B. 02

I hand the money to Susan and she smiles. She pulls the mirror so she can see her reflection, as we sit in my car. I watch her wipe my cum from the side of her mouth.

"Same time next week Ron?" she asks, as she freshens her lipstick.

"I've booked a hotel room, I've told Sylvia I'm on a school conference."

"You crafty devil, I'll tell Keith I'm visiting my mum. Will the others be there taking photos?"

"No just you and me."

"It'll be nice to do it in somewhere other than your car," she says, with a giggle like that blond in the carry on films.

She looks down at my cock, leans down, and licks a bubble of cum off the tip. She smiles.

"Can't have you going home to my friend, with spunk on your cock can we?" she says and giggles again.

I find her quite irritating at times; she's a cheap slut who I pay for what I want. She makes a change from my dear wife, but I wouldn't swap them for the world. I have to coax my wife into doing things, putting up with her moans and grizzles. I usually get what I want, but the beauty is I have to work for it with Sylvia. Susan is what they call a bubbly blond, easily impressed and gullible. Sylvia was gullible, but she has hardened in ways I find interesting. She talks back to me, and then offers her face for slap. It's like she is saying, "Come on get your moneys worth, while you still can."

I wipe the lipstick off my cock. Perhaps I should leave it there for my wife to find. I smile at that thought.

"The men have nearly finished the bathroom," I say, as I clean off my make up while he sits in bed, pulling off the brown wrapping from the magazine.

"About time too, you're not distracting them, are you Sylvia?"

My mind goes back to what happened earlier. I had to go in the bathroom, and remove my nylons from the string over the bath, while they watched. I dropped one and waited for one of the men to pick it up for me. He bent down and I pushed a black nylon clad leg out of my dressing gown. He gawped at my knee, and as his eyes went further up, I closed my dressing gown cutting off the view.

"Don't be so vulgar, do you think I would let men like that touch me," I reply, and then feel a little dampness between my legs.

"Jesus Christ!"

I look in the mirror at my husband; he didn't hear a word I said. He is smiling and rubbing his hands together in triumph. He pats the bed. I slip in next to him, and he opens the magazine.

I stare at the glossy centre pages. There I am looking terrified, with the tramp between my legs! I pull the magazine from him and flick through the other pages, a dozen photos of me and the tramps are there. Even the first photo of me kissing my pretend lover in the doorway is there. The caption, "A cheating wife gets her comeuppance," in red letters is above the first photo.

"You said they weren't good enough to be published. What if my friends see it?"

Ron chuckles, "Sylvia, I honestly didn't think they would be. As for your friends, well if they see these photos, then they have obviously bought the magazine, and it isn't displayed, not even on the top shelf."

My peach coloured baby doll is scrunched up round my waist, as my husband's huge cock enters me. I gasp, which causes amusement on his face. His lips crush on to mine, as my wincing over his hard cock subsides.

I still close my eyes when he fucks me face to face. I try dreaming of someone nice, an actor, or even Terry next door. Not that Terry is handsome; he is just better looking and younger than my husband.

The photos in the monthly magazine flood my mind. I imagine all those men out there pouring over every detail. I look across the bed at the magazine. It is open to the last shot of me serving the tramps naked, and being groped. I think of everyone I can, looking at photos in the magazine. Perhaps I should leave it for the men doing the bathroom to find. They aren't far off tramps in looks. Would they blackmail me into doing their bidding? I think about those bathroom fitters fucking me, while I sob. It wouldn't stop there; my husband would be taking photographs of them. I heard one of them refer to me as Lady Muck, the other said I was a prick tease, and I "needed a good seeing too," they didn't have the guts to try anything.

I start to come, if my husband only knew why.

He pants, gasps, and then shoves himself deeper as he comes. It has been 10 minutes since I finished, I've laid here huffing at him to hurry up. A few months ago I would have been cursing in my head that Sean came too quickly.

I turn away from the usual thank you kiss, and as usual he pulls my face roughly towards his mouth, and forces me to take the kiss. He pulls out, and again, as usual, I half shove him off in a desperate need to go to the toilet, and clean myself. I get back in the bed and he cuddles up behind me. He sighs contented, as his hand goes under my arm and cups my breast. He kisses my neck and snuggles tighter against me. I tell myself as I always do, why I'm doing this.

I watch her cross her legs, even now I get this tingle hearing the nylon rub together. I stare across at her thighs, and up to her breast. Sometimes I have to ask myself if I'm not dreaming having a wife like Sylvia. I actually fuck her and she takes it. Okay she would rather I didn't, but when I move between her thighs there is no trying to put it off.

"Do you have to look at me like I'm naked all the time?" she spits.

"Well, you're not wearing a bra under that thin white top."

"You won't let me," she snaps.

We go out to my car, and there is Terry in his front garden. We share good mornings as I open the car door for my wife. She slips in the seat and I close the door. I smile again at Terry. His eyes don't look away from my wife. I can see that look of lust all over his face; it doesn't even stop as his wife appears. Vera has to call him twice before he acknowledges her.

"He fancies you my dear. Even with Vera there he still looks at my wife."

We watch them go in the house.

"I hope he hasn't been round without you telling me?"

She doesn't answer me she stares straight ahead.

"Has he been round?"

I squeeze her thigh. She still doesn't answer so I squeeze harder and harder.

"No for god's sake," she says, with a painful whimper.

I release my grip, and pat her leg.

We walk round the fancy dress shop which has just opened in the town. She's staring up at the Tarzan and Jane costume. I've told her we should stop in here, and maybe the costumes would inspire ideas for another photo shoot. I watched the shop owner dealing with customers, but his eyes keep going back to my wife. He hasn't noticed we're together. He flirts with her, she smiles at him, and then when her attention is drawn to a costume he leans back slightly, looking at her ass in the white hot pants, and black tights underneath. She moves further along and stretches up on her toes, in the white knee high shiny boots. Then she bends right over in front of him, to look in a box on the floor. She looks sideways at me, with a stony faced look, and then bumps her ass back against his groin. She straightens up, like it never happened. I go outside and see the workmen digging the hole. I stand over the other side of the road. She comes out smiling. The workmen look her over, and one puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. They watch her face drop from the smile. She has to walk past them. They are treated to the sight of her braless tits bouncing in the tight white jumper, and the two hard lumps her nipples make in the fabric.

"Where did you go?" she asks, as she reaches me.

I slip my hand round her waist, and making sure the workmen see. I let my hand slide down over the tight hot pants onto her lovely ass.

"Do you have to?" she hisses.

"Yes my dear, I want those workmen knowing we are a couple, and don't think I didn't see you teasing the poor man in the fancy dress shop."

She doesn't answer.

"Now put your arm through mine and kiss my cheek."

She does with a defiance that is so sweet I smile. We walk past the men digging the hole.

I sip my morning coffee, and then dunk my toast in the soft boiled egg.

"Ready?" she calls through the closed door.

"Yes," I say a little exasperated with all this cloak and dagger stuff.

Sylvia walks in slowly. My eyes trail up from the black high heels, and black stockings, which as she twirls slowly round, I can see have black seams.

"I went back to the fancy dress shop yesterday, what do you think?"

My eyes carry on up the black skirt, which is a couple of inches off her knees. She is wearing a black jacket with a white blouse underneath, and on her head is a policewoman's hat.

"I didn't see that in the shop, and why my dear, have you hired a policewoman's uniform?"

"Well, I thought about wearing it for some photos."

"Sylvia, I'm working at the school today. Although I must admit the boys would love a photo shoot of a sexy policewoman. Take it back and we'll hire it out another day."

"Well I didn't hire it I bought it, with my allowance."

"You bought it, for one bloody photo shoot!"

"I thought we could do several. You know like I'm arresting a criminal and then maybe another one where I'm....well you know?"

"No my dear I don't, you really are stupid sometimes."

I stop going on about her wasting money, as ideas start to come into my head.

"He threw in a set of handcuffs for free," she grizzles, like it is going to make a difference.

A week later I've arranged the photo shoot; my dear wife isn't going to know what's hit her. She steps out of the car down the dark side street next to a disused shop.

Lance, Mark, and Jimmy stop what they are doing, and stare at her. There she stands my wife, or rather, WPC 69.

"Are you sure it's okay to be here?" she asks.

No one answers her, they just stand gawping.

"Come on let's get this bit over with, before someone comes," I say.

We position two of the guys at the cardboard safe which Jimmy made. Fake money is scattered around on the floor, and out of the top of two bags. Mark and Lance complete with masks on their faces, and torches are bent down looking like they are filling the bags. I take a photo low down from the ground, looking between my wife's ankles at the two robbers. I've got her high heels and seamed stockings in the view finder, framing both of the robbers in the distance. The next photo is taken just over her shoulder, with the side of her face and policewoman's hat, and beyond that the two robbers, who now have been caught. The next photo is front on of Sylvia, holding out the handcuffs, and the truncheon, the latter in an aggressive manor. Over her shoulder is a third robber, which she hasn't noticed partly hidden in the shadows. In the next shot Jimmy comes forward, and the photo after that his hand has gone round her mouth. I take a close up of the fear in the policewoman's eyes, the hand over her mouth, and the masked robber grinning over her shoulder.

A noise outside has us packing up quickly. We're done here so we need to get out fast. We head to Jimmy's studio, which is in an old warehouse. Jimmy and Lance sit at a wooden crate appearing to be counting the money. I take a photo of that but the main part of the photo shows the policewoman from behind, her hands cuffed behind her, and Mark stood over her with a fake gun in his hand.

We take another photo of Mr Big, me, coming in the room. I point at the policewoman, in a manner which demands to know what she is doing there. I pick up one of the sacks of money and I'm heading to the door like I'm leaving with the lion's share. In the next shot I'm looking back from the door, with one hand pointing to the WPC, and with the other hand I'm making a gesture across my neck.

Sylvia and I had discussed how she would plead for her life, but we didn't know how that would come across in a still photo. We had two ideas in our heads about how it went from there. One would be her crossing her legs, so her skirt slipped up revealing her stocking tops. She would be smiling seductively at the robbers, like she was offering them sex for her freedom. We considered that too soft for the readers of the magazine.

Lance is pictured appearing to slap the WPC across her face, her hat is flying off, and a mass of black hair has cascaded around her face. We did cheat in the next shot; we pushed her skirt up her thighs, showing off her stocking tops, and black suspender straps. We even managed to shine a light on the silver suspender clip, highlighting it. Two rough hands ripped her blouse open revealing her sexy black bra. The next shot shows two hands from two of the robbers underneath her bra, her face is screwed up in disgust and above that the two smiling mouths of the masked robbers.

We took more than enough shots of her being fucked by all three men.

My wife and I are staring at the photos now a week later.

"Look at you my dear, stripped to your stockings and high heels, getting fucked."

I glare at him.

"You told them to have me didn't you, all three of them?"

"Of course I did, and yes I enjoyed the terror on your face, it made each and every photo perfect, although when Lance fucked you I think you probably enjoyed it."

"Do you really think so?" I spit.

He holds up one telling photo, a close up of my mouth hanging open and my eyes closed.

"What was he whispering to you?"

"You'd love to know wouldn't you? God you really are a bastard. You stood there while they raped your wife!" I yell.

I remember it all. Lying underneath them, while they had me for real was never supposed to have happened, but obviously my husband told them to fuck me. I can still remember the foul smelling cigar breath of Mark who went first. Part of the struggle was because of that and part of it because he was actually fucking me. Luckily Mark didn't last long. Jimmy was next. He just pushed in barely giving Mark time to get out. He fucked like my ex husband, machine like, going through the motions.

"You see my dear even now I can tell you're remembering it."

"Well it's not something I'm likely to forget in a hurry is it? You know the only reason I put up with it is."

"It is because you get all of this when I'm gone, I know that Sylvia, I also remember that little note you left for me....have fun with me making me pose, until your last breath. My dear Sylvia that is what I'm doing."

He walks out of the room and I go back to my thoughts of Lance fucking me. He whispered that he couldn't stop thinking about me, and now he was having his dream come true, fucking a beautiful woman who looked a lot like Elizabeth Taylor.

Lance phoned me two days after the photo shoot. At first he was full of remorse over what had happened. Then he suggested I was too good for Ronald. I thanked him. Lance said he didn't have much, but would I consider leaving Ron for him? I tried to let him down gently, but before I had finished, he said he knew why I had married Ron. He knew it wasn't for love it was for money. I couldn't and didn't argue. I just let him go on about it. Gradually he was spitting words out in hate at what I was doing. Rather than be angry, or I guess get upset with Lance's thoughts, I just listened silently, agreeing in my head I was a gold digger and money driven, and in a strange way it hardened my resolve to carry on even more.

Three weeks later I went out with my husband to dinner with Lance and some girl he was dating. I had my husband buy me a new tight red dress, which showed off my breasts. I wore all my most expensive jewellery, and my mink coat. I walked in and heads turned. The girl, Sherry, asked where I worked, I said I didn't, my husband earns more than enough. I told her we were going Spain for our holiday, and our second holiday three months later was a fortnight in Greece. Ron knew something was going on, but he played along, telling the opened mouthed check out girl, next year we would have a whole month in America. Lance sat there biting his tongue, but I could see him on the verge of yelling at me.

"I'll get the bill," my husband said.

"No you won't, I'm sure Lance will pay....this time," I muttered, putting my hand on my husband's wallet.

We got up and I smiled at my husband, and then let him kiss my cheek, as he put the mink over my shoulders. I gave Lance a straight stare.

"We must do this again," the smiling Sherry said.

I simply raised an eye brow and said, "No, we won't."

While I watched her face drop I heard, "stuck up bitch," being growled under Lance's breath.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked, as we got out of the taxi.

"Lance asked me to leave you for him a little while ago. He said I was after your money when I said I wouldn't. I just thought I'd get my own back on him, and earn the tag."

Ron smiled at me, and said I'd come a long way from the shy housewife next door.

I lay across my husband's lap as he spanks me with my hair brush. Jimmy is taking photos, some close up of my face, some close up of my ass, and the hair brush leaving red marks. My white silk panties are pulled down to my knees. My brown seamed stocking tops and the white suspender straps, are a perfect frame for the redness on my bum. The previous shots to these were of me in my white gown with my head in the lap of Jimmy, who was wearing a chauffer's uniform complete with hat.

After the spanking the two men tied me to a door frame, in just my high heels and stockings. One shot was taken of Jimmy, tied and gagged to a chair, and then he is released to take the rest. Susan is stood in her maids uniform, the skirt is so short it shows of her black seamed stocking tops and black panties. The photo is taken from behind her, as she holds a large silver tray which has the business end of a whip dangling over the edge. My husband's hand is down the back of her panties, as they stare at me, the sobbing woman tied in front of them.

The whip is in my husband's hand now; his shirt sleeve is rolled up to make it look like he means business. Another photo is taken with his hand held back with the whip ready to strike across my bare tits.

Susan paints red lines on my breasts. The next shot is of my husband and Susan smiling at each other, as he is offering the handle of the whip to her, the maid. Jimmy takes two photos of Susan in her maid's uniform, one with the whip pulled back, like in a previous one of my husband, and a close up of her face with a wicked smile, which I found eerily real.

My twists and struggles are real in the next shot, as the grinning maid pushes the handle of the whip up my pussy, as her teeth can clearly been seen pulling on my nipple. When they untie me they have to separate me from Susan, but not before I landed the perfect slap on her face. How dare she improvise!

A week later I've calmed down enough to finish the series of photos.

How my husband arranged the next shot I'll never know. Jimmy and I were tied up and gagged, in the boot of an old car in our costumes. Pleading for our lives with our eyes is all we can do. The next shot is of the car high in the air, and just for good measure a long piece of the dress I was wearing, is hanging from the boot. Jimmy takes the last shot of the car being dropped into a car crushing machine, framed by my husband one side and Susan the other, smiling and holding a glass of champagne each.

We decide on one last shot a couple of days later to complete the set. Susan and Ron are stood outside a church. Susan in a wedding dress, and Ron in a smart suit, both of them, smiling happily. My husband drove her home after that he arrived home an hour later, claiming the car broke down, but I do wonder if my so called friend is up to something.

"What are you looking at my dear?"

I'm looking down on Terry as he chops a pile of wood. Ron's hands go round my waist, and he nuzzles into the back of my neck.