Ashlyn's Revenge

I have not let this out to anyone: My marriage is on fire. For two weeks now, Brice and I have not made love. I am starting to lose patience. Why is he tormenting me like this? I miss those nights when he cuddled me—nights when he caressed my breasts and rubbed my clit; nights when he slid his rock-hard erection into my soaking wet pussy. I miss all that and so much more. Right now, I feel like I am a stone, like I am not human anymore. It is like I am not even a woman. What have I become?

Enough is enough, I at last decide. I need to be fucked, hard. Having arrived at this decision, I go to one of those brothels where you pay men to have sex with you. A distant friend of mine, Gabrielle, directs me there. It was where she found solace when she was on bitter terms with her husband. They reached an extent where they didn't talk or look each other in the eye anymore.

Luca is tall, strong and he's got a flawless shape. He is the man who opens up for me on the door I am directed to—door number 15. He bids me in and so I walk inside confidently, inspecting the large, white-painted room. There is a lush bed, erotic picture frames dressing the walls, and an open closet. Inside it I can see arousing clothes, whips, handcuffs, belts, underwear, and stuff. There is a carton full of condoms on the table next to the bed.

"What is your name, beautiful?" He asks me.

"I'm Ashlyn. You are Luca, right?"

He nods his head quietly. The woman at the reception told me his name before sending me here.

"Look at the walls. If you'd like us to try any painted position, feel free to point it out. It is my duty to make certain that our clients get what we promise them—excellent services. How must we begin?"

I like this position: The woman lies down on the bed with her face placed on a pillow. She then splits her legs behind, her ass lifting upward; the man, wearing underwear that has a tear to permit his cock slip out, lies on top of her and fucks her in this manner.

"We are not bound to one sexual position, I must be clear. We have got a whole hour. If you feel like switching positions, please don't hesitate to let me know."

I don't wear my panties for a purpose: I am going to seduce my stepson, Laurent. His dad is not around. From the look of things, he is not going to show up home any moment now. An hour past, I called him to interrogate his whereabouts. He said he is in an emergency meeting that showed no signs of ending up soon.

I keep my attire neat but effectual: A black mini skirt that shows off my yummy legs and bulky ass; a green top that gives my breasts a mouthwatering look from any given angle. I wear high heels, even though I am not going anywhere. I am just home, having dinner with Laurent.

As I walk, I feel my hips bouncing left and right. It feels wonderful. The minute I step into the living room, he casts his eye on me. It is hard not to stare away, so keeps snatching a glimpse at me every now and then. I cross my legs one above the other and fan myself with my hands, "It is so hot, isn't it, Laurent?"

He nods calmly, mouthing not a slight word. Perhaps he is not in a cheery mood this evening?

"Do you have a girlfriend, son? I've never heard you talk about dating. You are really handsome, trust me, and any girl can easily fall for you."

He expresses shock at what I have said. Even so, there is not a word breathed out of his shut lips.

"If you need any tips on how you to trick a girl into having a date with you, feel free to talk to me. It's that simple, you know. You might have many girls out there dying to be in your arms and yet you just don't get the signs they are giving you."

Dinner is served. Chloë sets the plates down and then bows her head. She marches away quietly, carrying an empty tray. I signal Laurent to close his eyes so he can join me in prayer. He doesn't. Instead, he grabs a plate filled with boiled eggs and rice and minced meat—and begins eating straight away.

I surrender. There is no way I will stand this insulting behavior! I hate the way this boy treats me. It is like I am a stranger here in my own house, like he does not know who I am and where I come from. Damn him! If he wants to talk to me nicely, he knows where to find me. I stand up and tread furiously back to my room. I run into Chloë in the corridor, still clad in her dark blue uniform. I tell her, "Chloë, please serve me a plateful of rice and meat in my room. I won't be eating at that table with that moron." She bows down her head the second time and rushes to do as I have instructed.

Once I am on my own, I let myself fall on the bed and sigh out deeply. It's better to be alone here than share the table with that...jerk. Well, he is a jerk. He will always be a jerk. Don't you think it's high time you grow up, silly boy? Don't you?

"Good evening, ma." I can't sleep. Neither can I stand the loud snoring of my husband, Brice. Slipping on my nightgown, I sneak out of our bedroom and ring up Callie on the quiet balcony, where chilly air gnaws my ears. Alas, the gnawing pains!

"Ashlyn, what are you doing at this late hour? You're still awake? This is two in the morning, mind you."

"I am aware, ma. I can't sleep. Something is...something is bothering me. I thought about sharing it with you. Maybe the pain I'm feeling right now will go away once I do that." Tears begin to fill up my eyes. I mop them away using my hands but fresh ones leak out. My voice becomes shaky and blurred-like.

"My sweet baby, what is troubling you? You know that I'm here for you. I will always be there for you. Talk please."

It is not easy, but I gather the courage I need to speak out. "Addison is sleeping with Brice behind my back. I discovered this two days ago. I went on to confront her about it, telling her to stop, but she won't." Addison is my elder sister. She has ever been dear to me, until the past two days, when I saw her lying naked with Brice on my bed.

I fear Callie's reaction more than God at this moment. Will she say that I am making this up just to hurt my sister, whom she could never imagine doing such a thing? My worst fear is she is going to end this call and never want to talk to me again. The truth is she has always loved Addison more than she loves me and Mario, my brother—who is her youngest child and her only son.

"Ma, are you there?" For a minute or two, she falls quiet.

"Sweetie, I need you to come to my house tomorrow morning so that we can talk this out. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma," I voice calmly.

Addison is 43, married to a 41-year-old dude and they have a 20-year-old son, Cedrick. He has dark mahogany hair and swarthy skin just like his father. He seems to be smitten by my presence whenever we happen to be in the other's company. The last time we talked, he looked longingly at me, and then he tapped my bum as I was walking away from him. I can use him to teach her a good lesson. How will she feel when she learns that I am seducing her son...and her husband at the same time? Revenge is sweet, isn't it?

I am still restless by the time it strikes five. I can barely sleep. In my desire for revenge, I snatch my cell phone and dial Cedrick's number. He must be awake by now. He is a second year Criminology student at Swanson University. As such, I expect him to be up early so he can cram a topic or two before attending to other day-to-day matters.

"Cedrick, I dreamt about you last night. How are you? We were...were...making love at your place. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's what I experienced in my dream." I laugh in silence.

There is stillness for a minute, and then a sudden burst of laughter. "I've been dying to fuck your pussy ever since that first day I laid my eyes on you, Ashlyn. I was sixteen by then and we had just returned from Europe. You know what? I dreamt the same too. We were fucking hard, here at my place."

"Really?" I know that I am lying—truth be told. I have not slept; have not blinked an eye shut. I have not pretended to fall asleep either. I'm not convinced that Cedrick is saying the truth. He'd say anything to flatter me at this moment. This, I am certain of.

"I'm not telling a lie, Ashlyn. You were standing naked before me, opening your clit with your hand so I could see inside, and then the next thing I saw: I was on top of you, going up and down, breathing fast and hard."

"Can we make this dream come true the next time we meet, my sweet dick? I will stand naked before you and open my clit with my hand so you can see its inside. The next thing that will happen: You will be on top of me, moving up and down, breathing fast and hard. If you will just say, 'Yes,' this is going to be a dream come true, Cedrick!"

I envision him licking up his lips greedily. I am going to sleep with my nephew! I am going to grab his dick outside his pants and give him the best ever blowjob!

"Yes, Ashlyn; let's fuck the next time we meet—I can't wait."

Addison is Brice's latest assistant. He works at the only Wells Fargo bank running in Swanson, Virginia. He is their Chief Executive. Two months back, Addison scored a job at that same bank. To her surprise, she learnt that my husband was her new boss whom she was rendered answerable to. That is what sparked their affair into being. We were celebrating Addison's stroke of good luck at ma's, only for me to find out by going through Brice's texts that they were flirting and planning to fuck inside my own house when I was not there and also at their office during lunch. To bite him back where it hurts the most, I will do this:

I am employed at a fashion house. I design clothes and dress mannequins and models and also take photos of them. Recently, it hit my mind and those that I work with that I am in urgent need of an assistant. Someone who will help me organize my work. We are on the point of placing job adverts in all major newspapers throughout town. If I play my crookedness cards very well, I might get Cedrick to have that job and be fucking me both home and at work. The other day I heard Addison complaining about how he was applying for a job everywhere and yet he had not heard back any slight response from even one firm. Just imagine! I will take advantage of this situation to seduce him the more. I definitely will.

I watch Brice stir out of bed. Usually, he wakes up before it clocks six. This morning he is an hour delayed. I am beginning to speculate that he has few things to do at work. Last night he turned up home in the dead of the night—ten past eleven. "I've had the busiest day in the history of Wells Fargo," he told me after eating a small chunk of the mountain-like food I had cooked him.

He notices that I am dressed up excellently and asks, "Are you heading out?"

"I'm visiting ma. She has flu. I'm skipping work today so I can look after her the whole day. If you need anything from me, please call me. I'll be available."

He frowns in resentment. "You're not making me anything special to eat this morning. Addison can stop by your ma's and look after her. I will have her stay away from work. Isn't she your ma's favorite?"

"She is," I scoff, "and I don't give a damn about that, trust me." I am out of the door before Brice mentions further words.

"Greet Callie," he shrieks, "Tell her I wish her a quick recovery."

I stop at Cheryl's to buy flowers. Cheryl is my good friend. She owns a flower shop that gets swarmed with clients day in and day out. I don't find her present. Anyway, her shopping assistant is here. The reception I get from her is exhilarating. I get a bunch of roses for Callie. She likes roses more than anything else. When I am done, I walk back to my car and carry on with my journey.

Callie stays in that same old house we grew up as kids. My late father bought it the day they wedded. When he passed away, some of her friends suggested that she sell the place and move somewhere, but she denied. She insisted she was going to stay here until, like her deceased darling, she had kicked the bucket. In her old-fashioned rocking chair, I spot her seated by the fireside. She is knitting table clothes—her deathless passion. I check the newest pieces she has made and pass comment, "I'm wondering if you could sell these to me, ma. Your talent still shines like it did in days past. You are wonderfully gifted."

She uplifts her wrinkled neck to stare up at me. Her hair is gray, snowy-like. It used to be brown when she was young and beautiful. "I made that for an old friend who lodges a few blocks down the street. Like me, he is lonely and pitiable. If you want something of this design, I will knit it for you after I am finished with these pieces."

I smile cheerfully. "No problem, ma. Can I make you a warm cup of tea?"

"Sure, it would be my truest pleasure. Tea is always nice."

In this tiny kitchen, ma taught me the rules of cooking. I was seven and unshakable like a donkey when it came to learning things. In my viewpoint, everyone was wrong and I was all the time correct. At school, I never embraced the teacher's ideas if they happened to dispute with mine. I used to be rivals with nearly every mentor there. It was shocking how I managed to keep passing my exams granted that I attempted questions in a weird, never-seen-before way.

Outside the small kitchen lies the massive backyard. At this moment, there is only sun-scorched grass. When we were young, there were lots of flowers, ever beautiful and ever aglow in the sunlight. We would run here, giggling and leaping. We would invite our friends and play together.

In five minutes time, the tea finishes cooking and I quickly serve it. Callie likes it hot—never warm and never cold.

I look over the mammoth house that this seventy-three year old woman stays alone in. "Don't you think it's time you moved in with one of us. You can go to Addison's or Mario's or even come to my place. You are always welcome into my house, ma. I don't like it that you are lonely here with a pitiable homeless keeper who is almost as old as you are."

"My wish is to die in this same house that your father died. If it is possible, I want to die in the same manner he did. That is my only wish."

"Quit being stubborn, please. You are old. You need to be in a place where there are lots of people—people who care so much about you, who will look after you. It feels like you are imprisoned in this...patriarchal house. All it does is bring you painful memories. You must learn to let the past go. The future always glitters with plenty good things. Why must you keep on crucifying yourself?"

"If you don't mind, we must change this topic. Let's talk about why you are here. You were saying that your elder sister is sleeping with your husband when you are not around, is that not true?"

Those words slice into my heart like a razor-sharp knife. It hurts, very much. I hate being reminded of what I am going through. "You are right. I don't know if I will ever forgive Addison for what she is doing to me. She is my blood sister, yes, and I love her. This...is just too much."

"I talked to her this morning. I had her come here—"

I cut her short immediately, "You did what?"

"I had a talk with her, Ashlyn."

"Without informing me about it, mother? Come on. What were you thinking? You've ruined everything."

"I must tell you something. I should have told you about it the first day I found out." She is getting me worried. What is she trying to say? What has she been keeping under her hat from me?

"I don't understand you."

"I have known for some time that...that...Brice and Addison are seeing each other. Trust me: I am not supporting what your sister did. I've confronted her about it. We are now not on good terms thanks to that. We had a hurtful argument this morning and she left me in fierce anger."

I don't know what to say, seriously. Ma knew, and she couldn't bother to tip me about what was going on. I am sipping tea when my hands begin trembling all out of nowhere. I place my mug down and convince myself that I am strong enough to suffer this. Yes, I am strong and brave. I keep on repeating this in my mind. Finally, I find my voice.

"I have to go now, ma. I will catch up with you later. I will visit some other time. Goodbye."

"Ashlyn, don't go, please baby—" I am out of the house already. I can't feel that I am walking but I am moving on my feet. Pulling the door of my Mercedes-Benz open, I go in and start off. Addison has not seen the worst of me. She will very soon. I am going to rack her where it hurts the most. I am going to tear off every part of her, bit by bit. I swear with my life.

At work, I cannot concentrate on getting my job done. I am starting to get sick—I am sweating, feeling nauseated. My stomach is hurting suddenly; my body is shaking without an end. Darcy, whom I am working with on a particular catwalk project, leans closer to me and asks if I am okay. I tell her that I have a little fever but I will be okay soon. She proposes that I go and lie down in my office, which I do. When I am here, I find Cedrick seated on my spinning chair. He is alone. Who told him to come in?

"Cedrick, what a surprise to see you here," I marvel. He stands up and kisses my forehead. After he pulls back, I go for his lips and smooch them slowly. Then I am finished. "What brings you here? I don't mean to be rude, but this is not the right time for us to be found in an awkward situation."

"I know, Ashlyn. Mom sent me to bring this invitation card to you."

DEAR ASHLYN HEWITT,

You are invited to the birthday party of Louis Robinson, held tonight at 7 at the famous Hobbs Hotel. Present this card with you upon your arrival. No one without possession of an invitation card will be allowed into the bash room.

Yours sincerely,

Addison Bates.

Addison is inviting me to a party? God damn her! Well, I am going to use this opportunity to get into her life and make it a living hell. She is doing me a big favor as a matter of fact. I won't show her the same kindness. I spin towards Cedrick and ask, "Who is Louis Robinson?"

"He is dad's young step brother."

"I get it. Are you going to the party yourself?" I smile at him. Terrible thoughts are filling up my mind. I have better ideas as regards how I am going to have my sweet revenge; not that it will not cause me pain. It definitely will. If I suffer my portion silently and with patience, I am going to reap success in the end.

"I am. I can't think to miss such a special event. I want you to be present, Ashlyn. I can't picture how this night will end without me holding you in my arms, without me kissing you. Please come. There will be lots of fun, I promise."

I step towards him. Before I lick his lips with my tongue, I assure him, "I will be there, sweet dick."

I drop down on my knees and grasp his hips. Unzipping his jeans, I fish his cock out. Goodness, it looks so delicious. As I am looking over it, something tingles in my pussy. I'm not fucking him now. I'm just checking to see what he is keeping inside these gray pants. How about a quick blowjob? I give him one. In the end I take photos of his penis with my iPhone camera. Then I swallow his entire cock into my mouth; I suck it like a baby does with the mother's breast. He groans out in pleasure. Three minutes afterwards, I am done. I straighten up and tell him, "More blowjobs are underway, sweet dick."

When Cedrick is gone, I take my phone out and go through pictures of his penis. Wonderful! Look what I have here. I email them to Addison, writing:

Guess whose penis this is? It belongs to the son of the woman who is fucking my husband when I am not with him. Isn't it sweet and tempting? Don't bother. I can assure you that this young man here has a nice package in comparison with what my husband has. He is twice bigger, much better. I haven't fucked him yet but I can guarantee you that I will do that very soon. If you are in denial of this, peek at your son the next time he undresses and see if his dong does not resemble the one in those pictures. Should you let this email fall in the hands of my husband, I swear: I am going to tear your ugly brains out of your head. Good afternoon!