Synopsis: An unfaithful husband is punished by being forced to witness the rape of his lover...by his wife.
 

by Wifey
februarywife@hotmail.com
Copyright 2002
 

My hands trembled on his computer keys.  I felt deceitful and sneaky, but I'd rather be a snoop than a fool.  I felt certain that he was cheating, and it was killing me.

So, on that glorious spring morning after a long and golf-less winter, I whispered that it looked like a great day to play nine.  Kevin immediately called in absent to his office, then found a tee-time around noon.  I drove to my office, and at lunchtime told my assistant I was leaving for the day and would only be available via cellphone for the most critical of emergencies.  This guaranteed me at least two hours of uninterrupted snooping.

The house was quiet.  The cat purred, the clock ticked.  A golf-cleaning kit sat on the dining room table, and I could see that Kevin had rummaged through more than one closet in search of his various accessories.  It was something I had always found endearing about my husband...he was very organized in some ways, very not in others.

His computer was still running on the dock in our bedroom—- he had forgotten to log off, as usual.
Which is exactly what I had hoped for.

Taking a deep breath, I clicked on "My Computer" and did a search on his C drive.
   All Files Containing:  "Pussy"

His computer hummed.  Five files were found...all email files.

I opened the first one, in which his friend Steve was calling him a 'pussy' for missing a company softball game.  The second one was an old, outgoing message to me, from back in the days where we routinely sent each other sexy messages.  When did we stop doing that?  Why had I let that happen?

The third was an outgoing message to someone named "Jessica".

My heart pounded as I read it.  He called her "Baby".  He called her "Beautiful".  He wrote that he couldn't wait to taste more of her "sweet, wet pussy".

My throat tight, I reminded myself not to cry, never to cry.  Stay focused.  There was business to attend to.

Shaking, I opened a new search for all Eudora files containing Jessica's email address.  I was a little relieved to see that they had tapered off lately, and he hadn't emailed her in over a week.  I scanned through them, despising my tears and feeling sick to my stomach.  Kevin was *my* husband.  And this bitch knew it...he wasn't hiding his marital status.

The last email exchange was a single paragraph, apologetically ending the affair.  He said he loved his wife, and was sorry to hurt her, and wouldn't be contacting her again.

I read it over and over, torn between triumph and rage.  He loved me, he chose me.  And perhaps I should leave it alone...it was over, after all.

But then again, he had betrayed me.  I couldn't just let that go and pretend that I didn't know, that I didn't hurt.  And any woman who dared to play with my husband would have to suffer the consequences.

My mind whirled as I composed a new message from my husband's email account.

     "Dear Jess,
      I can't stop thinking about you.  Can I see you
      tonight?
      Yours,
         Kevin"

It was her work email address.  She replied in less than ten minutes.

     "Kevin,
      Why are you doing this to me??? You said you
      loved your wife and didn't want to see me any
      more remember??? You hurt me and now you just
      want sex so your asking me to see you but I
      won't be used like that again.Go to hell!!!!!
          Jessica"
 

Her pain and anger were delectable.  I felt vicious and powerful, and offended.  How could Kevin have risked our marriage over some bimbo who didn't even have good grammar?  Inspired and malicious, I responded:

     "Jessica-
      I am so sorry that I hurt you.  I realize now
      that I can't go on without you...I am deeply in
      love with you, and have been since the first
      time our eyes met.

      I felt responsible and obligated to stay with
      Laura, and believed that fulfilling my
      commitment to her was the honorable thing to do.
      But I can't stop thinking of you, dreaming of
      you, and must be honest with myself and with
      her.

      I told Laura about us, Jess...told her about
      you and me, and how in love I am with you.
      She agreed to an amicable divorce, and last
      night she packed some of her belongings and
      left.

      I know I don't deserve you, and am so sorry
      that I lost you.  I only wish I had been
      honest about my feelings sooner.  I will always
      love you, Jess.

               -Kevin"

This time, she replied in two minutes.

      "I LOVE YOU TOO!!!!!When and where should we
       meet?"

I typed back:

       "My house- 7pm.  Can't wait to hold you!"

I sat in front of the computer, willing her to email back and ask for an address or directions.  Oh, Kevin, you better not have fucked her in our bed.

But she didn't respond again.

*****

Desperate for distraction, I drove across town to the adult store, trying to stay focused on my plans.  I hadn't been to a sex shop in years, and purchased one of nearly every type of item in there.  The total receipt was over $400, but the wardrobe and toys were outstanding, and this was justifiably a special occasion.  The guy at the counter said "Thank you, Mistress" when I checked out.  I narrowed my eyes at him and snatched my credit card back from his fingers, slightly mollified that I'd get to star in at least somebody's wet dream.

I was in the bath around 5pm when Kevin came home.  He sat on the edge of the tub and thanked me profusely for recommending the golf.

"I have a couple favors", I began.  He looked wary, knowing that when a wife encourages her husband to skip work on a Friday and play golf instead, no favor can be denied.

"Sure..." he said, trying to hide his worry.

"My sister called and asked if she could come over and talk.  She's having boyfriend problems and wants some advice.  She was crying really hard."

"Oh, Laura, I'm sorry to hear that," Kevin said with as much feigned sympathy as he could muster.  He had, in all fairness, heard the same spiel at least a dozen times within the past few months.  "How can I help?"

"Well, would you mind going out with the guys or something tonight for awhile?  I hate to ask you to leave your own house, but I have a hunch it won't be very pleasant here."

Greatly relieved, he kissed my forehead and said he'd watch the game at a sportsbar.  Then he asked what the other favor was.

"Could you take my car tonight?  It's making a funny noise and I'd like you to listen to it."

"Absolutely, sweetie.  Steve can take a look at it, too.  I'll come back after the game, and if your sister's car is still in the driveway I'll head over to Jillian's...you could just page me there when she leaves."

"Perfect", I said.  "Have fun!"
*****

Preparing for the evening did wonders to lift my spirits.  Kevin and I had converted the basement into an art studio for my painting endeavors, and carved out some space for a laundry room and a small home-gym with a Smith Rack.

It was heavy, but I was able to drag the rack sans weights into my art studio area.  It's designed for weight-lifting without a spotter, and mostly resembles a large metal rectangle stabilized with perpendicular metal bars for feet.  After placing it about six feet in front of my easel, I made several trips back and forth to add barbells and weights, one at a time, to the Smith Rack.  I ended up adding every single weight we owned on three different barbells.

I adjusted the rack and my easel, hanging handcuffs and double-checking that they were secure.  After slowly examining my new toys and returning them in strategic order to the shopping bag, I lit some candles and poured myself a glass of wine, brainstorming for the evening ahead.  So many possibilities.  At 6:30pm I started to get dressed.

I had purchased a sheer white teddy with matching lace panties and thigh-high stockings, and long, high-heeled white boots.  I let my dark hair fall loose around my shoulders, and applied my make-up carefully so it wouldn't be overdone.  Tonight, I'd be the martyr, but not the victim.

I went upstairs, took my gun from the dresser next to our bed, and unloaded it.

At 7pm, I was waiting behind the front door.  I heard her tires on my driveway, wondered what she looked like, but forbade myself to peek.  Her high-heeled shoes clicked briskly up my steps.  She knocked three times, and I opened the door with myself still behind it so she couldn't see me as she entered.

"Kevin?" she breathed, rushing behind the door with her arms wide open.  Her smile fell when she saw me, and she blinked in confusion.

"Hi, Jessica.  I'm Laura.  Kevin's wife."  I held up my pistol and pointed it at her face.

Jessica eyed my elaborate lingerie, and tears started to form in her wide, sky-blue eyes.  She didn't look scared, really, just sad and bewildered.

"Is this like a...a game?" she asked.

I cocked my gun and stared at her, hoping the click would make an impact.

"No", I said, simply.

"Because-- because I'm n-not into stuff like this" she quavered.

"It's not a game, Jessica.  You fucked my husband. Tonight, you're going to pay for that. Drop your purse here, then turn around and walk slowly down those stairs, straight ahead."

She started snivelling.

"Is Kevin here?"

I marched her forward with my gun on the back of her neck, but didn't answer.

"Oh, god...oh my god, did you shoot him?  Is Kevin alive?  Jesus, please don't kill me..."

Halfway down the steps, she screamed his name, suprising me so badly that I nearly pulled the trigger and revealed the lack of bullets.  Angry, I shoved her and she toppled down the last few steps, sprawling to the basement floor with a satisfying thud, her expression stunned as she rubbed her jaw.  Now, hopefully, she'd start to take me seriously.

She began to cry then, apologizing, and broke into full-blown sobs when I kicked her in the ass with the tip of a hard white boot and demanded that she rise.

Jessica was extrodinarily beautiful.  Her hair was golden blonde and fell in long curls down her back.  She was slender, medium-height, and had slightly muscular, curvaceous legs in silky black stockings beneath her little black dress.

It was a very little black dress.  The image of Kevin's strong hands sliding up her thighs and beneath her dress flashed unbidden through my mind.  I took a deep breath to shake the thought away.

"Keep going," I instructed.  "Right up to the easel.  Then turn and face me."

She didn't seem to know what I meant by "easel", so I had to push her toward it.  My easel is my most beloved possession—- a huge, oiled-oak, Abiquiu easel that stands over seven feet tall and can hold works up to 500 pounds.  To Jessica, I'm sure it resembled a medeival torture device, which was pretty much how I intended to use it that evening.

"Reach up and cuff your right hand into that handcuff", I ordered, pointing with my gun.  She began to wail freely but complied.  I walked behind her and clicked it around her wrist more snugly, confident that her right arm was now secure.  I grabbed her left hand and cuffed it to the opposite side; she didn't resist at all.

The easel is adjustable, allowing me to tilt my work or raise and lower it by using the knobs on the other side.  Jessica was standing against it, but I wanted her perched on the small shelf that normally held my canvases.  I lowered it slightly and pushed her up onto it as she repeatedly begged me not to kill her.

"I won't ever talk to him again, I promise", she sobbed.

I studied her for a moment, wondering what the best way to display her would be.  The easel wasn't quite wide enough to hold her legs straight apart.  I had to
settle for resting her ass on the shallow shelf and lifting her legs up towards her arms, and tying her legs against the easel beneath her knees with soft leather straps.  To prevent her from kicking me, I cuffed her ankles above her shoulders, admiring her flexibility as I shackled her ankles just inches below her wrists.  To take some of the strain off my shelf and her thighs, I tilted the easel back slightly but she was still mostly vertical.

"What's this?" I asked, hiking her dress up to her waist.  "No panties?"

"Are you going to kill me?" she whispered.

"Not yet", I said.

She was blubbering about being too young to die when I slapped a long piece of duct tape over her mouth.  Her nose was running and I could tell she was having a hard time breathing through it, but my basement wasn't soundproof and I didn't want the neighbors to hear.

Reaching into my bag, I grabbed a can of redi-wip and started spraying it onto her pussy.  She squealed beneath the duct tape as I pressed down to release the cold, foamy cream that immediately melted and began to leak into her folds.  I sprayed more all over her clit, leaving a healthy dollop right above it to melt downward.

"Samson!" I called.  "Here kitty kitty!"

In a moment he was there, our big orange tabby that Kevin had found as a kitten.  I pulled my artist's stool up to the easel and patted it.  Samson hopped on and started licking the whipped cream between Jessica's imprisoned thighs.

"Stay real still, and he probably won't use his teeth" I advised as she stared down at the cat.  I wondered what his sand-papery little tongue would do to her, and if he'd accidentally nip in his enthusiasm at receiving such a treat.  Poor Samson rarely got anything better than a bowl of milk in addition to cat chow.

"Excuse me, won't you?  I have to go hide your car", I said.  Smiling, I put the safety back on my gun and left.  When I got to the top of the stairs and closed the door to the basement, I couldn't hear her at all.

Perfect.

Jessica's keys were in her purse.  I parked her car two streets over and walked home slowly, knowing that Samson wouldn't stop until he he had consumed every sweet drop.

She was jerking spasmodically when I returned, with Samson's raspy tongue attacking every last particle on her tender, vulnerable clit.

"Are you all clean, Jessica?" I asked.  She whined prettily in reply.  Using a cold washcloth and some anti-bacterial soap, I scrubbed her roughly and rinsed her with a spray-bottle full of icy-cold water.

Checked the clock:  7:55pm.  The night was still young.

I ripped the duct tape off her mouth and she screamed, then gasped in deep breaths as she resumed her sorrowful weeping.

"If you scream again, I'm going to fuck you in the ass with my gun before I blow your bowels right through your head.  Understand?"

She said yes, said she was sorry, and asked if we could 'talk about this'.

"Sure!  What a great idea.  We'll talk.  How many times did you sleep with my husband?"

Jessica first told me she didn't know, but as I reached for my pistol she cried "Three times!  Only three times, I swear to God, and I won't ever t-talk to him or anything again.  If you let me go, I promise not to tell the police anything either."

"How'd you meet him?"

She had to stop and think about this one.  I wondered if Kevin was just one in a string of lovers, or if she had known him for so long that she could no longer remember.

"I was a...a temp for awhile at his firm.  One of his associates invited us all to Beshanti's for drinks to celebrate something, I...I can't remember what, and everyone was really drunk, and I gave him my number.

It was agonizing, the image of him taking her number in his hand, putting it into his wallet.  Kevin isn't the type of guy who gets so drunk that he forgets he's married.

"Enough", I said, pained.  "Did you not notice his wedding ring?"

She sniffled, having no adequate answer, and I went to my desk and returned with scissors.  Furious with myself for the tears in my eyes, I cut her dress all the way up the front, keeping the bottom blade cold against her shrinking skin, then cut the sleeves and pulled it off.  Her bra was lacy and black, her breasts full and luscious with rosey, hardened nipples peeking nicely through the lace.

"My legs are cramping- please- this hurts so much", she begged.

"I think I have something that can help with that," I offered kindly.  Rummaging through the basement bathroom medicine cabinet, I found a tube of Icy-Hot ointment.  The menthol smell was unpleasant, but I gently massaged it into the back of her sinewy thighs, even undoing her garter tabs and rolling down her stockings to just above her knees so that I could work the balm more thoroughly into her skin.  She spoke softly and repeatedly asked me to just let her legs down, or at least one leg down, for just a few minutes.  She said it was "unbearable."

"That's not unbearable", I told her.  "But *this* might be."  With that, I dabbed a healthy glob of Icy-Hot onto her asshole, and watched with amusement as her pleading became more urgent and wiggling more frantic, her rectum burning, until she started banging hard agains the wood.

"I wonder what this would feel like on your clit", I mused.

"Oh, god, please don't, I'll do ANYTHING-"

I dabbed some of the lotion on my index finger and her eyes widened as she watched me.  Jessica's clit protruded from darkly swollen lips, her sex glistened with wetness even though I had cleaned and dried her thoroughly just moments before.  Her pussy was practically twitching, her ass clenching and unclenching almost convulsively from the the medicated lotion.

"Never mind", I decided aloud with my fingertip still poised above her trembling clitoris.  "I hate the smell of this stuff...can't even imagine how it would taste."  I deftly wiped my finger on the sole of her left foot, streaking her stocking.  Then I used the spray bottle and washcloth from earlier to wipe the Icy-Hot lotion from her red, puckered rectum.

Standing up, I noticed that her make-up job was completely ruined.  I cleaned her face gently and decided to give her a make-over of my own...after all, I'd hate to have Kev come home and see what a wreck his old mistress was.

She was hiccupping quietly but obeyed completely as I told her to shut her eyes, tilt her face this way or that as I applied fresh foundation and rouge, then some heavy black eyeliner and several layers of mascara.  I used a small brush to paint her lips cherry red, which gave her a sexier, sluttier appearance than she had arrived with.

Her lips were pouty and beautiful.  It started to mesmerize me, the silky little brush on her lips, back and forth and back and forth on her trembling mouth.  Impulsively, I bent forward and kissed her softly, then raked my fingernails wickedly over her lace-clad nipples, making her jump, making her wet.

"LOOO-cy!  I'm Ho-ome!" Kevin suddenly called from the kitchen in his best Ricky Riccardo voice.

Before I could prevent it, Jessica screamed "HELP ME!!".  I slapped my hand over her mouth, smearing her lipstick, and she promptly bit my fingers.

I don't know if I screamed that she was a fucking bitch or if I merely thought it, but I backhanded her hard, and her head snapped so violently that for a long, terrible moment I thought I had broken her neck.  Kevin leapt to the bottom of the basement stairs just as she took another deep breath and prepared to scream again.

Kevin staggered forward a few steps, astonished at the sight before him, and I lunged for my pistol before he could grasp what was happening.  With my gun solid and strong in my hand, I could explain, and finally tell him all the things I'd been waiting to say.

But instead, he looked at me with Those Eyes, and I burst into tears in spite of myself.

"Why did you do it, Kev?" I asked, my voice broken and weak.  I stepped back next to Jessica, who was snivelling again.  "Why did you cheat on me?  What did I do to make you cheat on me?"

"Baby", he said, staring into me.  He stepped towards me, so I lifted the gun to Jessica's temple to stop him from coming closer.  "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry.  It was a mistake...it...it was my fault.  It's over.  Now put the gun down, and we'll talk."

"No", I mustered, choking on sobs.  I hated that he made me feel so childish.

"God, Laura...I love you.  You.  She and I broke it off because I love you, and never wanted to hurt you.  But for Christ's sake, you have to put the gun down."

Sniffling, I tried to regain some control.  "I want you to lock your right ankle into the bottom left handcuff on the Smith Rack, Kevin.  Now."

"Laura", he said, his eyes entering mine, beseeching, worried.  Not scared, but worried.

"Now," I repeated.  "Or I'll kill her."

He stood immobile and ashen-faced, but I could tell he was refusing me.  He knew that I could never hurt him, and was assessing his chances. So I cocked the gun, and Jessica whimpered in fear.

"Do it now or I'll kill her and then myself, you LYING CHEATING FUCK!"

Kevin moved slowly but complied, his eyes leaving mine only long enough to find the cuff I referred to.  He locked in his ankle, but loosely.

"Now the other", I ordered.  He did.

"Now your right wrist to the top left handcuff", I said, loudly, so I could be heard over Jessica's open weeping.

"Laura, we have our whole lives...everything will be fine if you forgive me, but everything will be ruined if-"

"You want to blame ME for ruining everything?" I demanded, raging.

"I love you", he said.  "Only you.  Please don't do anything stupid."

I went to him, lifted his left hand and started to cuff his other wrist onto the Smith Rack, but he grabbed my shoulder.

"Don't."  Kevin's voice was low and different.  My hysterics, my elaborate and dramatic setting, had astounded him.  I raised the pistol towards Jessica with my free hand, and Kevin's hand went limp in surrender.  I locked it in, tightly, then tightened the cuffs on his ankles and other wrist.  He had some room to move, but he wasn't going to escape with all those barbells resting on the rack behind him.  With great relish, I ripped off another stretch of duct tape and placed it over my husband's mouth, his look so heartbreaking that I couldn't hold his gaze.

But I did stand back to admire him.  So handsome, and strong, and helpless.  He just needed to be naked...but I decided to wait.  Let him stand, spread-eagled, in his favorite blue polo and tan dockers.  We had all night.

"So", I said, clearing my throat as I returned to Jessica.  "Where were we?"

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again.

"Oh, right.  The lipstick.  You've gone and fucked up your mascara again, but it's still better than it was before."  I wiped away some of her smeared lipstick with my washcloth.

Shaking with adrenaline, I put my fingers into her bra and lifted her breasts out, tweaking her nipples and letting her flesh rest uncomfortably on top of her bra.

"Is this what you liked most about her, Kev?" I asked.  They were bound and facing each other.  I rubbed her breasts, massaging hard, but Kevin just looked away.

I reached both arms behind her and unhooked her bra, pressing my chest against her as I did, and then used my scissors to cut the arm straps off.  Before it fell to the floor I caught it and threw it at Kevin's feet.

Then I went to my desk and retrieved my artist's palette.  Today was a Watercolor day.

Returning to the easel, I lowered Jessica slightly and tilted her further back so she had to stare at the ceiling, yet was not completely horizontal.  From his angle, Kevin was able to see her face and her openly displayed body.

"I've never painted a nude before", I confessed as I dipped my brush into the palette wells and began to mix colors.  Coral and rose hues, I decided.  Maybe a tad of lilac.

I heard her fast intake of breath as the wet, sable-tipped paintbrush touched her warm skin, circling her areola slowly and tenderly, spiraling closer to the center with deliberate leisure.  Her nipple rose immediately, standing rigid as I dipped my brush again and painted her a slightly darker color there, dabbing and tickling with finesse as I watched her chest rise and fall faster than before.  She moaned as I flicked little brushtrokes across the tip of her breast, her fair skin blushing beautifully as I painted swift rings around her nipple.  I leaned into her and took her other nipple into my mouth and suckled long and gently before I began the painting process all over again, careful to provide the same diligent attention.

"Your skin is flawless," I told her.  "Maybe I can't really blame Kevin for all this."

"Oh, God," she said, and was silent again.

I took a larger brush and trailed downward, the colors of peach and honey nectar like gold against her smooth, fair flesh.  She squirmed as I tickled beneath her ribs, jerking wildly as I made cruel, feather-light circles on each side of her abs.  I painted the word "slut" an inch below her garter belt, right above her mound.  Then I moved to the left, so Kevin could better see what I was doing as I continued to paint lower.

"Hmm, Kev, what do you think?" I asked as I mixed more colors.  "This is my favorite brush-- tiny and silky, perfect for detail work.  I think I'll use it right...here."  Jessica sighed heavily as I gently brushed her pussy lips.  "And the color.  Crimson and cinnamon, perhaps?"

I could hear Kevin breathing hard as I began, first painting with bold strokes all over her sex, then caressing her lightly with the tip of a smaller paintbrush as I worked my way inward.  I opened her folds carefully and drew langorous, intricate designs upon her squirming flesh.  She was gasping and writhing as I painted her clit with agonizing care, ever so slowly, the paint collecting so temptingly on her quivering nub that I couldn't resist gently tonguing it off before painting it back on again.

"Please", she begged.  "Please, please."  Her eyes were half-closed and desperate.

"Please *what*?" I asked smugly, prodding.  I looked up at her from between her thighs, my paintbrush making random circles, and with my eyes still locked on hers I licked her clit slowly with the tip of my tongue.

"Please help", she breathed.

I could see her wetness, smell it, and dipped my paintbrush into that, too.  I turned around and took it to Kevin, and painted her juice right beneath his nose.  His face was flushed, and his hard-on was obvious.  I unbuckled his pants and pulled them down to his hips along with his boxers, freeing his throbbing cock.

"You know what they say", I cooed, licking his ear wetly and making him jump a little.  "About hell having no fury like...*this*--" and he swore beneath the duct tape as I squeezed his cock, then snapped a cock-ring wickedly around the base.  I heard his muffled "FUCK!", and gave his balls an affectionate squeeze.

Satisfied, I returned to my shopping bag and pulled out some K-Y jelly.  I spread it on my paintbrush, letting them both watch, then returned to Jessica and lavished it on her rectum.

"It's much more comfy than the Icy-Hot, don't you agree?" I asked as I slathered it on.

"Please don't", she whimpered.

"Ta-daaa", I announced, and with great flourish procured a medium-sized, soft latex dildo from my black shopping bag.  I squeezed more K-Y between Jessica's tits and rubbed the dildo between her breasts until it was shiny and wet.  Then I sat down on my wooden stool in fron of her pussy, obstructing Kevin's view from her most delicious assets, and started to lick off all the paint.

Her thighs were shaking hard on each side of my face as I licked and sucked, careful to keep my pace excruciatingly slow, sometimes poking my tongue deep into her pussy but only long enough to tease and make her want.  And she did...her body arched toward me against her own volition, her pelvis thrusting toward my face because she Needed, she Craved, and each tongue-flick over her clit made her moan in despair because it wasn't enough to let her reach the steadily-building orgasm that had been burning there for the last few hours.

"Do you want to cum, Jessica?" I asked.  She closed her eyes and nodded, her forehead sheened with sweat, her nostrils flaring.  I unlocked one ankle and brought her leg down gently, massaging her sore inner-thigh, and repeated with the other.  I let her knees rest on my soulders, with her wrists still captive above her head, and then I brought my face back between her legs.  Dimly, I could hear Kevin rattling in his chains, and I knew that not being able to see everything was the worst part of the torture for him.

I took her clitoris very gently between my thumb and index finger and rolled it slowly, tenderly, then nibbled lightly until she was bucking, her pussy terribly empty and slick with need.  I rimmed the inside of her vagina with my middle finger, then pushed in deeper and felt the hot walls throbbing against my hand.  Before she could anticipate it, I pushed the dildo against her tight, well-lubed ass and she screamed quietly when I entered her, my tongue still painting tiny circles on the hood of her clit, and two of my fingers now lost in her pussy.  I pulled the dildo out and re-entered, enjoying her frantic attempt to escape the intrusion, then licked her clit furiously as I slowly drove it all the way in.

Jessica came then, screaming words I couldn't hear, her hips locking around my neck and spasming uncontrollably.  I heard Kevin yelling beneath the duct tape, heard the whole Smith Rack clanging violently behind me, but I remained there with my face nuzzling her pussy.  I loved the way she was clenched around my fingers as her thrashing stilled to mindless, helpless writhing.  Finally, she lay limp on my easel, her eyes closed, her head to one side.  I stood and gently stroked the hair back from her face.
She looked up at me for a moment, grateful.

I eased away, and turned to find Kevin shaking, his penis fully erect and painfully swollen in the cock ring.

Just the sight of him there made me weak at the knees.  I removed the cock ring and rubbed his penis, letting the blood flow, enjoying the way his body tried to move into mine.

But not now.  I couldn't possibly reward him for his betrayal.  I put the cock ring back on as he tried to yell "No".

I hooked my thumbs in my panties and slid them down my legs and over my thigh-highs and boots, letting Kevin watch, revelling in his anguish.  Then I returned to the easel and lowered Jessica until she lay flat on her back, her limp arms still cuffed above her head, her feet towards Kevin.  I crawled onto the wood, kneeling above her, stopping when her face was between my thighs and my face was above her sex.

Kevin and I stared at each other, tacit understanding almost humming between us.  Jessica was mine, now, not his.  And from tonight forward Kevin was mine too, and only mine.

I considered the strap-on in the bottom of my toy bag, and wondered what it would be like for him if Jessica held his face while I fucked him in the ass.  There was still plenty of time.  I started to share some of my ideas with him when I felt Jessica's tongue slake out and lick my pussy, freezing me as I hovered over her in a classic 69.  It felt so good that I just sighed as I felt her, tentative and shy and tasting me slowly.

Kevin's face contorted in frustration and pain. He was desperate.  And he was learning his lesson.

I ignored his muted yells and furious clanging as I dipped my head down to Jessica's mound, starting all over again with feather-light kisses that my husband couldn't quite see.
 
 

-februarywife@hotmail.com