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?"
