The Bad Wife: On Holiday

Excerpt

“Did you come already?” It was hard to ignore the slightly pissed off edge to Laura’s question.

“Sorry,” said Ian, but he was smiling to himself. He had timed it perfectly. He’d left her horny, but not so close that she’d dive into the bedside table drawer and finish herself off with a vibrator. She’d still want proper sex, and now it would require some real effort on her part to get it.

“I’ll get us a glass of wine.” Ian tried to sound contrite.

“No. I want you to stay here and catch your breath,” Laura sighed.

Five minutes later she was back in bed. Her warm body pressed against Ian’s, her head on his chest, her hand on his crotch. She smiled. “How about I tell you a nice little story?”

Ian’s smug-o-meter hit ten. Laura didn’t suspect a thing and the tale she would now impart would be rude, sexy and a lot of fun. They always were. It would feature one of the seemingly innumerable members of her back catalogue of partners and lovers. Of course, in every version, whoever she picked, her ex would be more considerate, yet demanding, more creative and better looking than Ian. Despite the law of averages, all of them were monstrously well endowed, naturally. Far in excess of Ian’s humble offering. In fact, the only faction in her cohort of sexual associates not guaranteed to induce penis envy, was her ex-girlfriends. Even then, if one took any aspect of intelligence, success or sexual performance, the chosen participant would always be better than Ian by a country mile.

He didn’t care. He just loved hearing about her exploits, her fantasies, her other life.

“Did I tell you Steve got in touch?” Laura’s tone was light and casual. She winked.

“No. Which one is Steve?”

“He’s the tall blonde guy. Moved to Europe about ten years ago to paint. He’s back over here doing one of those Iron Man things. You know, where they run and swim and stuff. I’ll dig you out a picture.”

Laura had a huge collection of photographs, some of which Ian had either taken or participated in creating. The vast majority however, featured her previous male and female acquaintances. They were usually highly pornographic and covered a wide range of interests and activities. He’d seen a few of those, on the rare occasions she decided to share. The rest remained a mystery despite his repeated attempts to crack her password almost every time he was left alone with one of her electronic devices.

“He wants to meet up, so I told him to come to our place and we’ll do dinner. I thought he might appreciate a few home comforts.” She grinned impishly.

“When were you planning to do this?” asked Ian, happily playing along.

“Oh, maybe Saturday night. That way he can stay over if he wants to.”

Ian smiled and felt the first renewed stirrings of arousal.

“I’m going to wear my white strappy dress. You like that one don’t you? Although if I wear it without a bra my nipples really show through.”

It was true. Laura was not large breasted and since she often opted to go without support, her nipples were a reliable, and often quite visible, barometer of her emotional state. Her legs were long and her hips, while large, were a good fit for her overall frame and her firm bottom. Generally she could be described as athletic rather than buxom. She was pretty and her dark hair was considered to be her best feature. Shiny, fine, shoulder length and always well cut.

Ian on the other hand was in denial over his creeping baldness and the weight he had gained over the years. He still prided himself on being able to hold his own on the village football team. Although in reality it had been sometime since his glory days and he found himself regularly warming the substitute’s bench of late.

“He’ll love it if I put my tits on show. Steve always encouraged my exhibitionist streak. God! Some of the stuff I wore for him was just shameless. Not that I always kept it on for very long anyway. Do you know, he once drove home from a concert with me in the passenger seat in nothing but a pair of purple five inch platform shoes and a nipple chain made out of safety pins? For two hours! Whenever we got to a straight bit of road I’d put the interior light on and play with myself for him. It’s a wonder we made it back alive.”

Ian was definitely stiffening now. “Was that during your punk phase?”

“God no!” Laura stroked him gently as she continued. “I’ll be able to wear some tottery shoes again too. Steve’s really tall. Or I could try something that shows off my legs, like a denim mini-skirt and go barefoot. That’s kinda sexy, right? Steve and I can get sloshed while you sort the food. I could ‘accidentally’ flash him my shaved cunt while you’re making dinner. That would bring back some memories! We could get you a little pinny. You’d look adorable! I thought after dinner we could tell him you’ve got work to do. Then you can disappear upstairs into the study and leave us alone to talk about old times.”

“Perhaps,” said Ian, trying to rescue a modicum of pride, at least in the form of not sporting an apron in this made up scenario, “instead of you drinking, I could pretend to be a bit drunk? That way you could flirt with him right there in front of me. Maybe pop a button or two every time you come in from the kitchen, play footsie with him under the table while we eat, that sort of thing? The more I drink, the naughtier you can be.”

“That’s rather good,” she said, rolling over to kneel between Ian’s legs. Her tongue was hot on his balls and left a cold trail of saliva as she began to wank his fully erect dick. “I could suck on some asparagus and make crude jokes about wanting lots of meat or some cream filling. All right, sit up.”

Laura positioned Ian so that she could straddle him and hold on to the headboard. She hovered over his lap while he lined himself up, allowing her to slide down his full length in a single smooth move.

“Ah, that’s the stuff,” Laura sighed. “After dinner you could sit in the armchair watching telly. I’d stick my tongue down Steve’s throat every time you start to nod off. That’d be so fuckin’ hot. I could grab his hand and put it up my skirt, then you can wake up all bleary eyed and look round, not quite catching us.”

She began to rock back and forth, grinding her pussy down on his cock. Ian reached up and pressed his hands against her breasts so her nipples chafed against the heels of his palms as she rode him.

“I’d say something like ‘Relax baby,’ and you’d pretend to pass out. Then we’d handcuff you to the chair and when you come round you’d find me wearing nothing but my leather thigh boots and a dog collar. Steve would have his dick out and I’d be on my knees begging him to let me suck on it. You won’t believe the size of it, by the way. He’s huge.”

Laura was speeding up the rhythm now and her saucy narrative was starting to have an effect on Ian’s equilibrium. Hold on now. Don’t come, he told himself. He knew she would be furious if he left her high and dry (or rather hot and wet) a second time. It was critical to ensure she either took him over the edge and they climaxed together, or that he did not come at all.

He pictured dead pigs, and ran through the commentaries of famous football matches in his head, trying anything to dampen his ardour. Ian felt a pang of concern that he might start to find deceased farm animals and sporting clichés arousing, if he associated them with moments like this too often, and then realised this thought alone had done the job. He smiled to himself and grasped Laura’s nipples between his fingers and thumbs. She moaned.

“Oh God yes. Squeeze harder.” She looked directly into his eyes and returned to her tale. “You’d have to sit there and watch me choking myself on Steve’s huge schlong and ten years’ worth of his delicious cum.”

Ian could tell she was almost there and the danger had nearly passed. If she beat him to the punch he could always knock one out in the bathroom afterwards, recounting her lurid fantasy. To be honest, he’d probably enjoy that more because he could make it last and flesh out the story a bit more.

Laura was moving at full tilt now, eyes closed, head thrown back. She began to buck and writhe as the first spasm rolled through her body. Ian clenched his teeth determined to let her come before he did. She arched and forced herself down one last time holding still, before an explosion of breath burst from her lips and she twisted and moved, chasing every drop of pleasure until she was spent.