A Wife's Revenge.

I spent hours writing this. It is long, but, I think you’ll get more out of it if you read every word. This is the follow on from "Stripping Off".

So, tomorrow came. I sat up in bed, naked and still a bit drowsy. I’d woke a couple of times during the night and, still aroused given myself a quick fingering. Anyway, tonight I’m going to fuck James, I decided, and as I’ve said before, the trick is all in the planning.
I showered, another quickie play and then a rummage through my case for something nice to wear. I’d told James I’d got a couple of heady meetings and would probably head for the bar as soon as I got back, around 5 pm. So, back to clothing. I started with my undies, as always. There we are, perfect. Nice bra. White, low cut. Thin back strap. I’ve got biggish boobs, 38DD, so most bras of that size are built to give maximum support. I’m lucky to have firm breasts so I don’t need some feat of extreme mechanical engineering. Nicely low-cut, the top half of the cups nicely sheer, just down to the shading of the top half of the nipple areas.
Matching knickers. Only worn a couple of times, so still stark white. I do hate that greyish tinge that all white undies eventually do get. Nicely fitting. Not quite up to my waist. Completely sheer except for vertical white panels, each one half an inch wide, all around them.
White suspender belt, not part of the matching set, but, again, stark white satin . Six straps, each one of satin ending with a hard plastic nub, fitting snugly into a red metallic holder. Not elasticated, I shortened the straps before I put it on. I do like the tops of my stockings to come up to level with the tops of my thighs. Can’t be doing with that tarty, just above the knee stuff. New pack of stockings. My usual very low denier , plain, not lacy tops and, as ever, black. I sometimes do wear seams but, never for the office. Too distracting for the men and could, maybe, be construed as a little slutty. Anyway, I slipped it on and fastened the five hook and eye arrangement and, of course, checked the view, front and back, in the mirror, before slipping my knickers on. Another mirror check, perfect.
Black skirt. Nicely fitted around the bum and flared below, prettily pleated with such a nice swaying effect as I walk. Nice and flouncy, if that’s a proper word.
Now the blouse. I selected one. White, of course, the front decorated with a pleated effect, similar to the front of a man’s dress shirt. Just wide enough to shield the centre of the cups of my bra from view, except for the outer side bits. I put it on and, pulling it tight from the midriff, my bra’s detail was barely visible. Let’s try another one. Oh, so much better. Again, stark white, no ruff down the front, instead, two pockets perfectly positioned in front of the centre of the cups of my bra. The rest of it wasn’t see-through or opaque, just perfectly somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. The detail of my bra visible, except for the two smallish squares covered by the pockets. Turning my back to the mirror, I looked at the back view. Perfect, again, the detail of my bra visible.
I put a black jacket on to complete the ensemble and, even though I say so myself, I looked good.
Bear in mind, this event happened a few years ago when I was in my late 40’s, and I was a very attractive woman, or so I was told. Who am I to argue that ?
And so, off to work. It seemed like a long day, and it probably was. But, being professional, I acquitted my role as a well-qualified solicitor extremely well. However, my mind was constantly mulling over the conversation I was going to have with James. Remember, the devil is in the detail. I didn’t want to have some basic yap about fucking, but, I wanted to adopt a subtle approach and have a stimulating conversation. I love that scenario, very sexy and such a fabulous element of foreplay, without the slutty flavour to it. I was generating conversation after conversation in my head. This would work, that wouldn’t, maybe tweak that, that’ll get him going, oh that will get me going, etc.
Magic. The clock struck five. Time to pack up.
I drove back to the hotel. Sat in my merc, driving on those country lanes, my mind was already racing, tweaking the conversations I’d already had in my head. Without having to change gears, my left hand had already started to wander between my legs. Touching my knickers, I wasn’t surprised to find they were already slightly damp.
Parking at the hotel, I saw him sat at an outside table. God, you’re fuckin’ eager, I thought. Now this is where rehearsed conversations start to require some modification. Makes it so much more fun, I think. Getting out of the car, I made sure my skirt rose up my legs, a little. As I closed the door, I brushed my hand down the side of the skirt, and, looking across at him, said,”Whoops, better protect my modesty”. He smiled and raised his glass. I joined him and he beckoned the waiter to get me a G&T. “You have a good memory”, I complimented him.
My Modus Operandi in these circumstances is very simple. I want to get fucked, but I must make sure that they always make the running. In other words, It’s my idea but you’ll think it’s yours.
Small talk. He talks about the weather and I switch it agilely to the fact that women don’t have much protection under their outer garments. He talks about sports and I gently turn the conversation to the fact that sportsmen are attractive because of their fitness levels. He talks politics and I err towards clever men having that aura of power and how, to the greats’ eg JFK, it had aphrodisiac qualities. All very subtle in order to avoid the slutty persona.
Sat where we were, at the front of the hotel, the sunshine was still quite strong, but the breeze had picked up a little. He’d gone to the toilets and, upon his return, as per my plan, I’d flicked up the flared bottom of my skirt to display a bit of thigh, and, more importantly, the bottom edge of my stocking tops. As he arrived back, he couldn’t avoid looking at the exposed thigh. I looked straight at him and noticing the direction of his gaze, looked down at my exposed thigh, and then looked straight back at him. Looking down at my exposed thigh again, I smoothed my skirt back into its less provocative position and suggested we move to a less breezy area. I smiled at him to confirm that, despite him having seen up my skirt, there was certainly no ill feeling on my part.
We moved to the garden at the sunny side of the hotel. And so the chatter continued, flitting from the mundane to the more personal stuff. I asked him about his Doctor work. After some boring stuff, I asked if he preferred women patients. Veering the conversation towards where I wanted it to lead, I suggested he probably preferred examining female patients rather than males. He lightly deflected the suggestion by claiming to be a professional. Keeping on the subject, I ventured, come on, you’ve got a nice young, partially clad, young woman in your surgery, have you never been aroused. He blushed slightly and volunteered, well, yes, on occasion. I continued the train of thought by laughing and saying that, if I have an appointment, I have to go home first and change into cotton knickers and tights, adding, in an exaggerated posh accent that stockings and frillies would be a no no. Laughing, I said we’d better talk about something else. But, job done. He now knew I was a stockings girl who probably wore sexy underwear most the time. I had to get this point across because, of course, he’d seen up my skirt, and I didn’t want him to get the impression it was just for seducing him, tonight. That would be a bit too premeditated and maybe a bit tarty, I thought.
So, a bit more chat about travel, cars, politics, whatever.
More drinks, we were both a little tipsy, maybe. I moved the conversation back to doctor stuff. I said it’s a shame that there’s no cure for aging. Gallantly, he added that I certainly wasn’t old. I put on a sad face. Wish my husband thought that. “He’s a lucky man. Are you telling me he doesn’t appreciate what’s in front of him?.”
Perfect, I’ve got you now, I thought. Putting on a sad face, I looked down at my knees. “He’s been seeing a young girl for months now,” I lied. “Are you sure?”, he asked, in a very concerned, doctorly voice. “I wasn’t sure. Then I, I, I followed him. I borrowed a colleague’s car and followed him. He took her to a hotel. Young tart.” “Did you ask him about it?.” “I was going to, that night, but, I chose not to. A few days later he said he was working late. I checked his bank account. God, I felt so guilty doing that. Hotel payment. I drove past. There was his car. I peeked into the garden. There they were. Him and the tart. I was seething. Then they stood up. Her in this tiny dress. As they walked, he put his arm round her and squeezed her bum. Strange, I suddenly went from being angry to being so very aroused. I knew what she was going to get…………..and, you know, it turned me on. Is that weird?”
“Wow. So the anger just vanished. Did you not want to just go and slap the pair of them?”
“You sound like a psychiatrist, now.” I laughed. “No. I went into the bar, knowing they wouldn’t be down for ages. I kept looking at the men there. Should I have a revenge fu……well you know the word. Oh yes, I thought about that. So easy. But then, my mind drifted back to them. I just couldn’t believe how excited I was. Well, a mix of anger and excitement. I left my drink, paid the bill and left. I just raced home, dumped the car and ran inside. God, I’d never been so aroused in ages……………..I just lay there, on the bed after I’d ………well, you know…………God, why am I telling you this.” I looked away from him, staring into the distance.
“It’s OK.” He assured me, as he reached across the table and patted my arm. Trying to lighten the conversation a little, I grinned and said, “So, you’re not going to put me over your knee and spank me for being a naughty girl, then ?” He grinned and said not just yet. He added that I’d have to be a lot naughtier to deserve that. I laughed out loud as I said “Shame !”
“Is it hot, or is it me?” I said, as I stood up and took off my jacket. With my back towards him, I leaned forward, putting my jacket over the back of my chair. Stretching, I knew the detail of my bra would be plainly visible through the thin blouse. He could probably even make out the stitching. Always very sexy, I’m told, seeing a woman’s underwear through her clothes. Sitting back down, I undid the top two buttons of my blouse and waved my hand, in a fan-like motion in front of my chest to cool myself.
“No, it is very warm”, again, that reassuring voice.
Undoing a third button, I pulled one side of my blouse further towards my shoulder, displaying my cleavage, right down to the see-through top of my bra, and repeated the fan-like action with my hand. I looked at him. He was staring towards my chest. I coughed lightly to alert him to the fact I’d seen him ogling me. As he looked back at me, I looked down at my partially opened blouse and back at him. He looked a little sheepish so, to reassure him, I patted his arm back and volunteered, “I do like your attention. Makes me feel, in a way, very sexy.” I turned round to make sure nobody else was around and, turning back towards him, undid the rest of the buttons. Opening the blouse fully, I said “See. Much cooler for me, too”, before letting go of my blouse and letting it hang loosely, partially closed.
It was now almost 9. There was nobody else in the garden. This being midweek, a Thursday night, the hotel was quiet, anyway. We’d had quite a few drinks and, despite some of the more serious conversations, we were having a bit of a giggle. “You don’t think I’m a bit of a tart, do you. I mean, putting my bra on display?”.
“No, why should I think that ?”.
“Well, for a start, you’ve seen up my skirt, down my top, I’ve virtually described playing with myself, you’ve seen my stockings, probably my knickers, too. You’ve almost seen my breasts……..you’ve seen up my skirt.”
“Woah, you’re repeating yourself……………….And, no, I don’t think you’re a tart. I think you’re an amazing, clever, intelligent and very beautiful woman”.
“You forgot sexy”, I reprimanded him. He opened his mouth to, I assume, add sexy to the list, but, before he could get the words out, I gripped his wrist and standing up, put my finger on his lips, said “Shhhhhh, wait here a minute. I stood up and, grabbing my jacket, went back to my room. I sat down when I got back to our table and, with some exaggerated head movements, checked there was still nobody about, before starting to unbutton my jacket. His mouth fell open as he saw I was topless under the jacket. No blouse and no bra. “Oh my God!. You’re just amazingly beautiful”, was all he could muster.
“I take it you approve”, I said. “God, I’ve never done anything like this before. Please don’t take me for a tart. “ “Never in a million years……………….you’re just perfect.”
“I haven’t had sex in ages…………….he’s probably getting plenty right now. Bastard. I’m thinking revenge…………..You won’t think bad…………….” I stopped and taking my room key out, passed it to him.
We walked through the empty reception hall and down the corridor. Outside my room, I pointed to the door. He unlocked it and, as I walked in, he shut the door, locked it and, as he came up behind my back, he gently put his arms around my waist, nuzzling my ear as he did so. I reached down to my side and unzipped my skirt. His hands took the waistband and pushed it down my legs. With one hand inside my unbuttoned jacket, he stroked my nipples. I turned to face him, his hands now around my back. With his fingers, he traced my bum crack through my knickers, making me shudder with excitement. I was in front of the full-length mirror. “The view’s gorgeous in here.” I half turned and, smiling, commented, “You like ?”. “Lovely underwear”, he said as he squeezed my bum cheeks. “Glad you like. My husband calls them granny pants.”. “He’s fucking nuts, if you’ll pardon my French.” “Forgiven already………………now, seeing as I’m close to being naked, why don’t you strip for me.”
He walked to the bed, sat down, and took off his shoes and socks. I was stood in the middle of the room, my arms folded, smiling at him. He stood up and, as he threw his shirt on the chair, I walked towards him, threw my jacket over his shirt, and said, “Let me help”. I undid his belt buckle, pulled his zip down and pushed his trousers down his legs. As he stepped out of them, I stroked his cock through his underpants. “My God. I wasn’t sure that revenge could be this sweet?”, I smiled.
Kneeling down, I pulled his pants down, his cock spring to attention as I released it from the unwanted garment. I stood back up and, stroking his balls with one hand, the fingers on my other hand gently tracing a line up and down his length, I kissed him fully on the lips.
He clasped his hands on my ears, kissing me hard, as I pushed his cock against my stomach. I pushed him backwards onto his back, on the bed. “I don’t think we’ve any use for these, have we?” I said as I threw my knickers onto the floor next to his underpants, kicking my shoes off at the same time. I climbed on top of him, head to toe, as it were. Manoeuvring myself, I slid along his prostrate body so my pussy was within touching distance of his tongue, and his cock was within touching distance of my mouth. As he set his tongue to work, I pulled his foreskin back, and sloppily kissed his tip. I shuddered slightly as he expertly licked me. God, he was good. Prising my bum cheeks apart, he got his tongue deeper and deeper in my pussy, making me shudder with excitement. Still cupping his balls with one hand, I alternated between licking his length and putting his cock in my mouth. Christ, he was big. But, not to be outdone, I managed to get most of his length inside my mouth, my tongue lapping round it while nestled against the very back of my throat. Then that first uncontrollable wave of pleasure. I jerked as I came, spraying his face with juice. At this moment, I released his cock from my mouth as I raised my head and let out a loud gasp. As he carried on with his tongue, I gripped his cock tightly, my face alternating between being pressed into his thigh and jerking back to let out another gasp.
My whole body shook as I enjoyed my orgasms, each one increasing in intensity. Then, I took hold of his cock again. Raising my head, I pulled his foreskin back, and gently squeezing his bell end, between my thumb and forefinger, I made his slit opening more round. I pressed the tip of my tongue slightly inside it, and slowly licked it. I felt his cock stiffen, as if it wasn’t hard enough before, and listened to his moaning with the pleasure I was giving him. Not wanting him to cum just yet, I stopped, pulled myself away and, pushing his shoulders back into the duvet, manoeuvred myself on top of his belly. Moving back, his cock went straight in my pussy. No fiddling around, just straight up me. Christ I was sopping wet.
Oh fuck ! I can’t think of another time when I’ve had such a hard cock in me. I mean, it was totally rigid. Leaning forward, I kissed him again, this time so fully, I thought we’d both die from acute lock of oxygen. All this time, I was moving my bum up and down and from side to side, his cock touching ever bit of my cunt. Slow at times, then quicker, always making sure he wasn’t going to cum just yet. A bit mean of me, really, seeing as I’d squirted at least 5 times, by now. But, to be fair, he was equally adept at stopping himself cumming.
“You’re awesome”, I volunteered. I sat up, no up and down movement, just a gentle circular grinding, his length deep in me. He reached for my tits and started tweaking my nipples. “The left one is much more sensitive……………..I can sometimes cum when it’s being licked properly.” So there was his challenge. I leant forward and away he went, Cupping my tit as he licked the nipple ever so expertly. I kept it within his reach as I started to effectively fuck myself on his cock. Faster and faster. My gasps getting more frequent, until they were continuous. Still he licked. And then the first of my full orgasms. I thought I was going to faint. My arse was going up and down, pussy farts galore and woosh that moment of extreme pleasure as I squirted away. The sheer thrill as I carried on moving my cunt up and down him. Still more squirting as I moved my mouth to his ear and gasped into it.
He gripped my shoulders in his strong hands and flipped me onto my back, his cock slipping out for about a second, before he quite literally rammed it back inside me. And then, that relentless pounding started. He was on his knees, my legs wrapped tightly behind his thighs. I dug my heels into his thighs, then released my grip, then tightened it again, as he fucked the living daylights out of me. I was like a rag doll. My back was raised up from the duvet, the back of my head nestled into it. My arms up above my head gripping the top of the headboard. Yet another squirt. I was on the edge of pure bliss when he stopped and, pulling his cock out, he gripped my waist on both sides and flipped me onto my stomach. Lifting my thighs, he spread them and rammed into me, yet again.
Doggy style, he started the roughest fuck I’ve ever had. My head was buried in the duvet, my hands gripping the duvet tightly. He let go of my thighs and gripped the back of my suspender belt, pulling it tight as he fucked me, yet again, into oblivion. Then, I felt the suspender belt give way, under the strain. It had five hooks and eyes, positioned at the front of the belt, to secure it firmly around my waist. I felt them tear away from the body of the fabric, not just buckle, as he wrenched at it to pull grip me ever so firmly as he fucked me. As the garment broke free, I felt the straps pulling violently at my stocking tops. Being satin straps, there wasn’t any give, whatsoever, like you find with elastic ones and they just broke free from their anchor points on my stockings.( In the morning, I found two of the fixings still attached to my stockings, such was the brute force he applied.) He was now holding the unattached suspenders and started to let that most feminine of garments loosely stroke up and down my spine, making me shiver as he did it. “You said earlier you were a naughty girl. I’ve changed my mind and I do think you need to be punished.” I was wondering how he could punish me with such a feminine piece of clothing. Then, totally unexpected to me, but nonetheless amazingly stimulating, he started to whip my arse with them. Gently at first, but, recognising from my gasps and faint yelps that I was enjoying it, he started doing it harder. Oh, that amazing sting when the four remaining metal fixings, in close proximity to the hard plastic grippers, hit my bum, sometimes in unison, other times splayed out. He spread the area of the beating, venturing further up my back, then down my thighs, slowly increasing the ferocity until he was thrashing me, quite literally whipping me into a frenzy. Then he threw the belt onto the back of my hand, signalling my beating was over. Not to be outdone, I grabbed it and started to whip it down my leg, partly to continue the pleasure, but more importantly, to show him I loved it. (In the morning, checking my body in the mirror, I was covered in welts and tiny bruises, pressing on them to recreate the pain).The whole of his lower torso was pushing me towards the headboard. I was screaming for him to fuck me, the first time I’d yelled obscenities at him. I thought I was going to pass out…….he pulled his cock out and pushing just the tip back in, he aimed it towards the front of my pussy and gently moved it, rubbing it against my clit. I gripped the duvet harder, my hands shaking as I hammered my fists against the duvet, letting out a continuous gasp as wave after wave of pleasure engulfed me…………… and then, that perfect moment. I felt that fire all through my body. I shuddered from head to toe as I whimpered and my cum juice just gushed out. Perfectly timed, he stopped thrusting and, leaning forward, he gripped those strong arms around my waist as he came inside me. I’ve never in my life felt so much spunk come out of a man’s cock. Pussy farts galore as he squeezed my belly and left his cock inside till it was drained.
He slumped to the side of me , his arm resting on my back. I turned my head to face him and we both had a contented smile on our faces. “Will you stay with me till morning ?”, I asked, softly, as a tear, of sheer happiness and love, formed in my eye and rolled down my cheek. “I’m going nowhere”, he answered, as he put his hand, ever so gently, on the side of my face, brushing the tear away with his thumb.
We have met many times since, as lovers, until he got married, a couple of years ago. I never told him the “Revenge” element was a lie nor that I knew he was watching me masturbating. To be fair, he never confessed to having watched me. During those following years, as lovers, we enjoyed so many adventures. We still exchange birthday and Christmas cards………………but, sadly, that’s all.
I do miss him.