Best Served Cold

Best Served Cold

by Don Jetman


The lounge was crowded. It was Saturday night, and the barflies were out in swarms. We took the booth at the end of the room, hidden slightly from the crowd in a corner recess that hinted at false privacy. Exactly two d r i n k s later he settled in next to her, drooling at my wife as he would a juicy steak.

"My God, you look delicious tonight, Linda."

My wife stared at him with wide, hungry eyes. She had finished her second of two d r i n k s in the time it took me to finish one. D r i n k i n g was something she did on special occasions - our anniversary or New Year's Eve - and I could see she was unsteady from the two whiskey sours f o r c e d down over the past thirty minutes.

I flinched when he placed his hand on her thigh, and again when he spoke.

"My name is Stephan. You must be David. I hear you've been a naughty boy."

He looked across the table at me and grinned. His eyes glittered with the promise of trouble. Linda saw him watching me and followed with a small smile of her own.

He took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it lightly.

"Your wife is most appreciative. I like that in a woman."

He leered at her, suggesting much more than the words that dripped from his mouth.

Suddenly he was more businesslike. He looked at me, as if to assure he had my attention.

"Tonight you'll learn that hell really does 'hath no fury like a woman scorned'."

"What do you mean by that?" I stammered.

"Relax, David. Your wife has decided to forgive your little indiscretion - but only after having a go at your game herself. Look at it as punishment, or a l e s s o n, but either way she's decided on her price. I'd suggest you pay it."

I shot her a questioning look, expecting her to explain. She didn't.

"So, what's this 'price' he's taking about?" I asked finally.

Her smile grew wider. She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass, brought it slowly to her mouth, and gently sucked the moisture from it before answering. Her eyes were glassy, her pupils large, dark wells of mystery.

"You had your fun. Now it's my turn."

She turned toward him, pulled him close, and covered his mouth with hers. The kiss was long and deep. A minute passed, then two. She sucked at him hungrily, her tongue wrestling with his, her hands clutching him from behind his neck. I heard her moan softly as she melted away from him, then faced me again with the same smile.

Stephan composed himself, took a long d r i n k of scotch, and sighed.

"It's been an interesting week, David - one I'll remember for a long time to come."

"An interesting week? What does he mean?"

She eyed me coolly, then looked straight at me as she spoke in a voice I was afraid could be heard at the next table.

"I've given myself to Stephan. He owns me - or has, for the past week, until midnight tonight. Your affair lasted much longer, but I thought a week would be enough. Any longer and I might not have been able to stop. He's handsome, intelligent, and very sexy - it just seemed to make sense. I put myself in his hands - told him I'd do anything he wanted for one week. Anything."

She looked over at him and wet her lips. His hand had edged her dress up, and was now stroking her thigh.

"I have a request, Linda. Your husband is somewhat incredulous at this point. I can certainly understand why. You can move things along with a gesture of your willingness to cooperate. I'd like you to find the ladies room, then remove whatever you're wearing under this pretty little flowered dress - bra, panties, stockings - everything. Put all of it in your purse, and return to us wearing nothing but your dress and shoes. While you're gone, David and I will get to know each other better. Run along now. We'll be counting the minutes..."

She left the table without a word. I had no trouble reading the mix of fear and excitement on her face.

We sat in silence for a long time before he spoke. The waiter returned with another round of ******. The muzak changed from pop to classical. Growing beads of water trickled down the side of my glass, each droplet collapsing into the fresh paper napkin.

"If you could have only seen her the day she offered herself to me."

"She didn't offer herself to you. You'll never make me believe - "

"She went to her knees the first time I asked. I can still see her small fingers unzipping me, fumbling with my belt. And later, again, in the park, how her diamond sparkled in the afternoon sun."

"You lying s o n-of-a-bitch."

He went on as if I hadn't said a word.

"She closed her lips around my cock, almost dutifully, as I might have expected from your wife. She sucked me until I gave her every drop, then swallowed all of it without complaining. I like that. I had her go braless during our stroll in the park. We found a somewhat secluded spot behind a hedge near some picnic tables. She opened the front of her blouse just before she blew me again. We could hear the people talking just a few yards away as she milked me with her mouth. Her nipples hardened so quickly under my fingertips..."

He smiled and took another sip of his d r i n k, taking in my reaction.

"Linda wouldn't do that. I don't believe any of it!"

"I can see why you'd think that at this point. But given time, I think you'll be surprised at what your wife is capable of. So many wives are sluts at heart. Linda is certainly no exception. She's well on her way to proving it."

I didn't know what to think. Linda was someone I had known for ten years, my wife, my lover, and my friend. Her attitude toward sex wasn't puritanical, but she wasn't a woman who lowered her inhibitions easily. His story was preposterous, or at least exaggerated in the extreme. Yet, she was terribly hurt, full of the 'fury' he spoke of.

"Have another d r i n k, David. Try to relax. It's not as if I'm not sympathetic to what you must be going through. Most men would rather k i l l than tolerate an unfaithful wife. Yet tolerate her s u b m i s s i o n to me is exactly what you must do. You could make it easier on yourself by considering an alternative to nursing your angst. A woman's sexual emancipation can be very arousing. Linda's a beautiful woman, a seething reservoir of untapped potential. Witnessing the results when the floodgates are pried open can be exhilarating, even life-changing, if you'll allow it.

"Just imagine, your own lovely wife satisfied again and again by another man - so quick to submit, to crave the taste of his cock - finally so eager to surrender herself to the indulgent bliss as it burrows its way deep inside her belly. I'd bet your pulse jumps a little at the very idea. Tell me I'm wrong, if you honestly can."

Suddenly the heat became oppressive. I was sweating. One of the bulbs in the lamp suspended over our table flickered, then went out. The remaining light threw sinister shadows over the face across from me.

I jumped as he slid quickly to the end of the booth and stood up. Linda passed in front of him and settled into the bench seat again, the flimsy cotton of her dress yielding to the subtle sway of her breasts.

Stephan took his place beside her, his shoulder pressed tightly against hers.

"Linda, show your husband what you've done."

She turned, giving him a puzzled look.

"Your purse, my dear. Show him what you're hiding in your purse."

She placed it on the table and opened it, tilting it in my direction to show me the contents.

"No, no, Linda. Take them out so we can see. Your husband needs proof - so, we must give him proof."

She pulled the ball of soft material through the opening, separating straps from lace. Bra, nylons, and finally panties, all lay in a row beside my glass, placed there one by one as she pushed them across the table. I reached out and lifted her bra, turning it mindlessly in my hands. It was still warm, and smelled of her bath oil and perfume. I looked up to meet her eyes again. She stared into me as though she was searching for something.

"David, do you have any remaining doubts about how far your wife will go to please me? She's sitting here beside me, naked under her little black dress. You have the evidence in your hands. Admit it. She's completely mine."

A flush of color spread over her face. Her blue eyes told me nothing as I peered into them. They seemed to pierce the shadows, almost glowing in the dim light.

"You wouldn't do this to me. You couldn't," I said unbelievingly as I watched the curves of her body shift under the dress.

He smiled again at my response, then reached toward her, easily opening the top button of her dress. She didn't resist. His hand dropped to the second button, pressing it through the tiny slit as effortlessly as the first. Then the third, and fourth. I could see the white, soft skin of her collarbones and a hint of the valley between her breasts.

"Linda, will you do anything I ask?"

She answered in a whisper.

"Yes"

Her eyes were still locked on mine.

"Linda, expose your breasts for me."

She turned suddenly toward him. Her mouth opened as if she might have discovered the limit to which she would willingly continue their little game. She caught herself before uttering a sound, poised at the edge, calculating the distance before she jumped.

"Are you refusing?"

"I - no, I'll do it."

She undid two more buttons and pulled the front of the dress open, hoping the generous display of breast and nipples would satisfy him. He turned toward her, placed a hand on each of her shoulders, and slowly inched the dress over them, stopping halfway down her arms.

"Now, expose them, as I asked."

The bar was quieter now, but still echoed with the steady hum of voices and the clatter of empty glasses. She peered around the corner of our booth, then, with trembling fingers, coaxed each bare breast from beneath her dress. The V formed by the remaining buttons f o r c e d them up and outward, her small pink nipples thrust forward into the dim light.

"I know what you're thinking, David. Your wife is sitting in public, practically naked to the waist. Anyone who happens by would certainly get an eyeful. Will it be our handsome young waiter, or a d r u n k e n customer who's lost his way? I'm betting on the waiter. What do you think?"

Her face went c r i m s o n. She stared at the ice melting in her tall glass, her creamy breasts heaving with each breath.

"Well, I'm sure you're thinking many things. So many excuses for her behavior must be racing through your head. But before this night is over, you will have to face the truth, the real r e a s o n she's given herself to me for the past week. It's why she brought you here tonight."

I expected to pay, and pay dearly for the brief affair with Joanna. Linda had found the hand-written birthday card in the front pocket of my suit jacket. The suggestive wording was damning enough, but it was the picture of Joanna in the nude, sitting on my desk, cupping her breasts with both hands with a come-hither look that told the whole story. It was just sex - feral, spontaneous, a n i m a l sex; sex with no strings or emotional attachment. That hadn't been much consolation to Linda. She was devastated. She brooded for weeks, then seemed to recover. Now this.

"I'm sorry. I know I hurt you. I'm so sorry, Linda."

It was another of many apologies. I knew that. She had ignored the others, but this one brought an air of superiority to her. She sat up a little straighter with shoulders back, thrusting her bare breasts toward me.

"It hurts doesn't it? I spent weeks imagining the things you and Joanna did together. I t o r t u r e d myself, trying to find some way to get over what you did, trying to figure out whether there would ever be a way to forgive you, to stay with you. When I met Stephan, I knew what I had to do. For me. For us."

I couldn't believe this was my wife sitting across from me. As she talked, she seemed taller, almost towering over me in her seat. She glared at me, her lips savoring the wicked satisfaction of each word.

"For us? You didn't do this for us!" I spat back at her.

Stephan casually fished a piece of ice from her glass.

"You're wrong, David. I did it for me first, but ultimately for us. I had to make sure you knew how I felt, how much it hurt. I wanted you to know that another man touched me in ways that made me dripping wet - a man so beautiful, so s k i l l f u l at what a woman needs, that I'd do anything for him. So now, you 're the one who will have to imagine what we did together. He made me do things we never did. And I liked it - no, loved it - all of it. I couldn't get enough of him. And he was always there - big, and hard, and - "

She stopped in mid-sentence with a sudden gasp. Stephan touched the ice to her nipple, moving it in small circles over the rising bud of pink flesh. He continued outward over the white mound of her breast. Her eyes closed. Her breathing came in ragged, jerking pants.

Stephan watched her face with fascination as he turned his attention to the other breast and nipple. After the ice melted, he rolled the nipple softly between thumb and forefinger. The pink bud hardened quickly, pouting at me as though she had willed it.

"Isn't she magnificent, David? So deliciously hungry. Completely lost in her uncontrollable desire. But please Linda, continue. This is your night, your chance to tell him what you feel."

She opened her eyes, studied me for a few seconds, then turned to Stephan. Her hand disappeared under the table, moving gently in his lap.

"I want you to touch me Stephan. I live for the feel of your tongue against me, wetting my belly until it's cool and slick, gliding over the insides of my thighs until I scream for relief."

Suddenly her eyes were on me. They were filled with fire and arousal. A droplet of water fell from her nipple, spreading into a small spot on her dress.

"Something happens to me when I take him in my hands. He's hard for me, well, constantly. Not just hard. Throbbing. I could play with his cock for hours. A large juicy drop forms so quickly at the tip right before he comes in my hands - God David, if you only knew how wet I am just thinking about it."

She hadn't taken her eyes off me. They were eyes I no longer knew.

We sat there in silence, both trembling, for very different rea***s.

Finally, Stephan ventured into the uneasy distance between us.

"Beautifully done, Linda. I'd say David should have no rea*** to doubt your pain, or your sincerity. Why don't you button your dress. I think he's seen enough."

She continued to look at me defiantly, waiting a while before pulling the dress over her shoulders and buttoning the front.

The waiter arrived seconds later with another round of d r i n k s. His eyes never left the front of her dress. I was sure he could see glimpses of soft skin between the spaces where the material opened between the buttons. Stephan called him back just as he turned away.

"Linda, I believe you have an admirer."

I guessed he was a college student, a sandy-haired kid of about 20. His fair skin turned bright red as he tried not gawk.

"It's ok," he assured the boy. "She's a beautiful, sexy woman. No one could blame you for staring."

Linda glanced from the boy to me, then back again. The dress was like wet tissue paper over her moist, distended nipples.

"I do have to keep a tight rein on her in public though, especially when she ******. She really has no shame at all. Do you know that she's naked under this pretty black dress? Isn't that right, Linda?"

She smiled up at the boy, replying with a slow wink.

"He's very cute," she teased.

The waiter saw her bra and panties piled beside my glass. His expression changed from embarrassment to hopeful amusement.

"Do you think I'm beautiful - ," she squinted at his name tag, " - um, Chuck?"

"Yes I do. Very beautiful," he replied, smiling weakly.

"Well, Chuckie, I'm not so sure my husband over there thinks so. He's fucking his accountant, Jo-an-na. The smaaart and sexxxy Jo-an-na."

She was slurring every other word, and I could hear anger creep into her initial playful banter.

"Mmmm - but Stephan thinks I'm beautiful, don't you Stephan?"

"Of course, my pet. Outstandingly, outrageously, irresistibly so."

He grinned at her, but she was still preoccupied with the waiter.

"So, Chuckie, he says he's not fuck-ing her anymore. He says it was just sexxxx. He says he's sorrrry. Think I should believe him, Chuckie? Whadya think?"

The kid squinted at me with a puzzled look. This was a complication he hadn't counted on.

"Well ma'am, I really wouldn't know."

She sighed in disgust. She lowered her eyes to his obvious erection, smiled, and the temptress returned.

"Hmm - but don't you think that if he can fuck other women, I should be able to fuck other men? You do think I'm fuckkk-able, don't you, Chuckie?"

He decided a change in attitude was in order - from opportunist to diplomat.

"Well, all I can say is that if I had a lady like you, I'd spend all my spare time at home."

She whirled to face me, spilling her d r i n k as her hand flashed in the air before me, her finger wagging in my face.

"See! HE wants to fuck me! Lots of men want to fuck me! I'll bet Chuckie could fuck me all night! And I'd love it! How do you like that? Want to watch me suck his big, hard cock? Want to watch Chuckie stick it in me and fuck me till I scream? Do you? Do you?"

I could hear the conversation in the next booth go suddenly silent as she raised her voice. She leaned toward me, red-faced and wild-eyed, as though she might actually come across the table after me. A button popped open where her breasts strained at the front of her dress. Crescents of firm white globes taunted me through the opening.

Stephan put a large hand on her shoulder as Chuckie made a hasty retreat. His touch calmed her; her body seemed to recognize it instantly. She leaned into him, eyes closed, a peaceful smile spreading across her lips. Stephan pushed the remains of her d r i n k to my side of the table, then lifted her chin with two fingers.

"Feel better?"

She looked up at him with wanton eyes.

"Mmm - much. Kiss me, Stephan. Please, kiss me?"

Their lips touched, then locked together in a shameless display of lust. She worked her mouth fiercely against his, biting, licking, devouring him with her tongue. A second button had come undone as she pressed against him, allowing a small pillow of milky white flesh to push through the opening. An engorged nipple turned from pink to angry red as it rubbed back and forth across the tweed of his jacket.

It wasn't the Linda I knew in the seat across from me. She panted openly as she writhed against him, making little sucking noises when her mouth broke free from his. I had been ready to take my medicine; ready, I thought, to weather any form of revenge she might take. But this - watching her surrender so completely to a man she praised as "so s k i l l f u l at what a woman needs" - straddled a line that might never be able to be crossed back again. Could I feel her slipping away?

Much later, when she finally broke away from him, she collapsed against the back of the booth, panting and wide-eyed. A third button had opened on the front of her dress, and I could see beads of sweat dotting the heaving inner curves of both breasts. She was staring at me again, staring with lusty daggers.

"You - did - this," she gasped.

"I - I know I hurt you. I'm sorry - so sorry, Linda."

"You - did - this!" she repeated, this time louder as her breathing slowed.

"OK, you win! Now I know what it feels like. It hurts - it hurts more than I could have known. But please don't take this any further."

"You - did - this! Say it! I want to hear you say it, God damn it!"

Stephan sat expressionless beside her. His hand moved gently along her thigh, stroking her with the tips of his broad fingers. Little by little, he pushed the hem of the dress as high as it would go, exposing a narrow expanse of bare thigh just visible beyond the edge of the table. She spread her legs an extra inch and waited for my answer. If it would put an end to this, I'd say what she wanted. I'd say anything.

"I did this," I answered, looking solemnly into her eyes.

It seemed to satisfy her. She smiled a smile I recognized, and her features softened.

"Yes, David, you did this. And now you have to pay."

She opened her legs as wide as the seat would allow. Stephan's hand wandered into the crevice between them. She watched me as he played with her, his hand hidden between tightly clenched thighs that twitched in rhythm to his every move. Her eyes left me only after she lost all control. She inhaled sharply as a brief shiver shook her body, then froze for an instant as though every muscle was preparing for what was to come. The tension melted from her as quickly as it had arrived. She slumped back in the seat, biting her lower lip to quiet the urgent whimpers that rose from her throat.

When she opened her eyes they were drilling into me again. Yet, her voice was softer now - the rage, pain, vengeance, all of it gone.

"Now you know, David."

I was sweating again. The room narrowed and spun like a kaleidoscope.

"Now you know just a little of what I went through for the past three weeks - day after day of imagining you with her, how you kissed her - night after night of wondering whether she was a better lover, and what it was that she did for you that I couldn't - weeks of torturing myself with images of the two of you together in bed in some cheap motel, and what you said to her while you fucked her. Did you tell her you loved her, David?"

I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. It was a question she must have wanted to ask weeks ago, a question from the heart. She caught me off-guard, still reeling from the intimacy she lavished on the man beside her.

"Linda, so help me, I didn't. I could never do that. Never! It was just - "

"I know, David. Just sex. You say it as though it was nothing more than a handshake. 'Just sex.'"

We stared at each other in silence. It was the same familiar impasse, one we had reached weeks ago. And I had walked right into it again.

Stephan cleared his throat. He had been quiet a long time, watching us with interest as he sipped the rest of his scotch. He spoke after a quick glance at his watch.

"Linda, might I suggest we -"

"No, Stephan. Let me do this."

He sat back and waited for her to go on, looking slightly amused by her evolving confidence. He might have owned her for a week, but now she was in control, and was determined to do this her way.

"I'm going upstairs with Stephan. He has a room here at the hotel. I want you to wait for me. All this will be over at midnight. I'll meet you back here, and we'll go home. Do this, and we'll be even. If you're not here when I get back, I'll leave you. It's the only way, David - the only way I can stay with you."

She was no longer angry, but the look she gave me guaranteed she was deadly serious. It was a final play I never could have imagined. I wanted to protest, to beg her not to go with him. I felt the contents of my stomach rise in my throat, and words refused to come.

"David, we're going to his room now. I'll let him do whatever he wants with me - anything at all. He can have me any way he likes, as many times as he likes. I'm not your wife for the next two hours, I'm his possession - just a piece of willing flesh. It's just sex, David. Just sex."

With that, after gathering the scraps of clothing still piled in front of me, they slid out of the booth and stopped to face each other. His hands were on her hips; hers caressed the lapels of his jacket. She hadn't buttoned the front of her dress, and he was staring at her breasts through the gaping opening. She looked up at him, saw his eyes on her breasts, and smiled with pure lust and surrender. His hand stroked the small of her back as they made their way across the bar, then slid lower as they turned toward the bank of elevators and disappeared from sight.


***

Learning that your wife has had an affair is one thing. You can try to deal with it as a past event. Somehow it seems less real that way. You might make yourself believe her when she tells you it's over. You might even convince yourself that it will never happen again, at least with the same guy. Watching the clock while she's having sex with him is a much bitterer pill. Overwhelming jealousy and nagging helplessness batter your ego, reducing it to a pathetically bruised and b l e e d i n g carcass. What's left isn't pretty.

I don't remember how much I drank. Too much. It didn't do much for the pain, and the clock crawled even slower.

Minutes after they left, another d r i n k appeared in front of me. I didn't look up. The last thing I needed was more quality time with Chuckie.

"I saw them leave. Is there anything I can do?"

That wasn't Chuckie's voice. She was leaning over me, hands resting on the edge of the table. Her name tag was inches from my face.

"I doubt it, uh, K.C."

Just two letters, centered on the white plastic badge. Oh, well, anyone but Chuckie.

"My real name's Casey, but everyone calls me K.C."

She wasn't going to go away, so I took another longer look. A sympathetic smile beamed at me from between platinum locks of shoulder-length hair. The black halter matched her tiny spandex shorts that plunged two inches below her navel and showed every detail between her slim legs. "Diva" was written across her firm, upturned breasts, each letter made of glittering rhinestones. Black heels, a tasteful, gold belly-ring, and a narrow black collar finished the look. Small round glasses rested halfway down her nose. She peered over the top of the gold frames at me and smiled invitingly. Lord help me.

"Is there anyone here that doesn't know?" I asked, hoping for some consolation.

"Well, she was pretty loud, and Chuck loves to gossip about the customers."

"So, where is Chuck?"

"Oh, something came up. He had to go, so I'm covering for him."

She was leaning against the table, the tops of her bare thighs resting against the edge. The skin-tight black shorts had no legs at all, and even in the dim light I could see they molded her plump labia like a second skin, parting the fleshy lips with the seam that ran between them.

"Are you sure I can't do something?"

She could do something alright. She could go upstairs with me, let me tie her to the bed and fuck her until she begged for mercy.

"Well, K.C., I really don't know what you could do at this point. My night's pretty much a disaster."

"Hmmm, are you really sure? I can be a very compliant girl, if you know what I mean."

Her eyes narrowed, and she fingered the collar around her neck suggestively.

"And I can be a very stupid guy. I guess everyone in the place knows what I mean."

She slid in beside me, her bare thigh pressed snugly against my own. A faint whiff of coconut and cinnamon filled the booth, carried by the heat from her trim body. It made my mouth water.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice. Her breath was hot and sweet on my face.

"So, she's really doing it with that guy upstairs?"

"Well, she's doing something with him up there, and I'd bet it isn't Parcheesi."

I finished my d r i n k in two long, slow gulps, then watched the bottom of the empty glass, hoping it might fill itself so I didn't have to look up. After a minute of awkward silence, she went on, this time with the voice of a much younger girl.

"I cheated on my boyfriend last week - right over there."

She pointed to the busy hallway leading to the kitchen.

"It was after we closed - with one of the assistant managers. I didn't mean to do it - I mean, I didn't plan it or anything. We were just kidding around, and before I knew it, we were tearing at each other's clothes. When my boyfriend came to pick me up, he found us in the hallway, screwing against the wall. He didn't even say anything. He just looked at us, turned around, and left. He won't speak to me. I never got a second chance."

"You mean like I did?"

"Is it so bad? When it's over, you'll still be together. I mean, it's not like she's in love with the guy, right? It's just sex."

"Right. 'Just'."

Now I desperately needed another d r i n k. I guess it showed. She scooped up my empty glass and had another in its place in two minutes.

She sat with me now and then over the next two hours when she found a few free minutes between customers. Every other d r i n k was on the house. I lost track of how many. I know she was more irresistible with each one.

By eleven-thirty the crowd dwindled to a few regulars at the bar. She plopped in beside me again, this time collapsing against me. Her head found my shoulder, teasing my cheek with thick swirls of silky hair. She still smelled delicious.

"Mmmm - I'm exhausted. You make a wonderful pillow."

Her breathing was deep and slow. I could see the outline of her nipples through the halter. Further down, her flat belly, smooth as velvet, swelled slightly with each breath as it dipped beneath the wisp of black spandex. She was everything my ego craved - and everything that had led me to my fate this night.

"There's still time. No one would have to know," she breathed softly against my neck.

I felt her hand settle in my lap. Her fingers traced the outline of my erection, then closed in around it, squeezing in a gentle, regular rhythm.

"Besides, you need to feel better. Linda's having her fun. Why shouldn't you have some fun too? I'll do anything you want. Anything."

I pulled away and looked at her. She eyed me with sudden surprise and confusion.

"How do you know her name?"

She froze, as though I was speaking some unknown foreign language.

"How do I - ?"

"Her name. I never told you my wife's name."

Just as suddenly, her confusion melted into the same sultry smile.

"Oh, that. Jeez, you scared me. I thought you were freaking out or something."

"I'm not freaking out. I want to know how you know my wife's name!"

"I told you, Chuck loves to gossip, especially about his customers. He doesn't leave out many details. From what he said, your wife would have had any guy in the place running around with a tent in his pants tonight. I mean, it was pretty obvious when he came back to the bar."

She gave my cock a few more quick squeezes, smiling lasciviously.

"C'mon. Come play with me," she teased in her best little girl voice.

Why shouldn't I? My wife was with Stephan, probably enjoying all the things she'd thrown in my face, the "things we never did" together. This wasn't just revenge. She loved it. She had said so - admitted it to my face. Images came to mind that made me cringe. Would she let him come inside her? Let him come in her mouth? What could they possibly do that we hadn't already done in our own bed?

I lowered my head into the palms of my hands. The room was spinning again, and the nausea returned in nagging waves. I'd cheat again, to get back at her for cheating, all because I cheated in the first place. And so it would go, on and on, until it destroyed us, or worse, trapped us in a living hell of deception and revenge. I was teetering on the edge of a razor - it hurt too much to stay put, but I was too paralyzed by confusion and ******* to make a leap in either direction.

"You don't look so good. You've had an awful lot to d r i n k tonight."

When I raised my head to answer, I noticed she had moved away from me. Now she studied me with more concern than lust. Her outfit seemed to shrink by the minute. It took very little to imagine her naked, and even less to imagine how ravenous she would be with her lips sealed eagerly around my cock. But something was wrong - or at least not right enough.

"You're right," I groaned. "Actually, I feel like I might die any minute now. So as my last act, maybe I should do the right thing for a change. I'm sorry. You're more than any man I know could resist - except this man, on this night. All this has to stop, and stop now. I know it might look like a huge gamble, but I still love her. It's a gamble I have to take."

She took my hand and gave it a little squeeze. There was something new in the way she looked at me. At first I thought it was sympathy, but there was something else, deeper, more meaningful, and very tempting. Given my decision, I'd probably never know.

"Good luck. I mean that," she told me, after a thoughtful pause.

She left without another word, looking every bit as good going as she did coming.

Eleven-forty. I went to find the men's room. I needed a walk to clear my head, and some cold water on my face might be just what the doctor ordered. As I circled the bar, Linda appeared under the archway leading to the lobby. She waved sheepishly as I approached, then kissed me lightly on the cheek. Whatever she had done upstairs, there was no longer any visible evidence. Every hair was in place, her makeup was flawless, and I could see the faint outline of her bra under the dress.

Neither one of us knew quite what to say. She smiled at me warmly, a smile that told me we might survive this after all.

"Can we go now?" I begged, more eager than ever to leave all this behind.

She nodded, still smiling up at me.

"Oh, I was on my way to the rest room - if I can find it."

"They're in the lobby, just past the elevators," she offered. "I'll wait for you here."

There was no sign of Stephan. I didn't ask.

When I returned, she had vanished. After a stroll through the spacious lobby, I went back to the lounge. She was at the bar, chatting with K.C. I watched from under the archway, my guts churning like a blender. She closed her purse and thanked her with a friendly gesture, turned to leave, then noticed me waiting by the entrance. Another smile, and another kiss when she reached me.

"She's pretty," she mentioned casually as we headed for the door.

"She?" I croaked, my knees now buckling with each labored step.

"Your waitress. You forgot to pay your tab."

"S h i t! I forgot to pay her? I've never done that. Christ!"

"It's OK, David. It's OK. Let's go home."

The door closed behind us as we stepped into the crisp chill of the first winter storm. She put her arm through mine and snuggled against me. Snowflakes frosted her hair, sparkling like brilliant rhinestones on black velvet. The lights and sounds of the hotel faded as we made our way through the dusting of new snow. In time the place vanished, swallowed by the darkness and the frantic dance of white that slowly filled in our tracks, hiding all traces of the narrow trail of footprints that twisted backward into the night.


***

"It's over, David. The details aren't important."

"But I can't stop thinking about it. A few answers might help me make sense of it all. Then maybe I could let it go."

"You'll get over it, David. If I can, you can. It was one night."

We were lying in bed. She had buried her nose in a new paperback for the past hour. I was watching an unsettling late-night movie showing the misadventures of a well-meaning schmuck caught up in a disturbing night-long chain of events in a dream-like SoHo. Twenty-four hours had passed, almost to the hour.

"I wish I was as sure as you seem to be. Watching the two of you last night - I don't know - I don't know if I can get over it."

Her expression grew more serious as she listened. She closed the book and placed it on the nightstand, then rolled on her side to face me.

"David, what if I told you none of it was real?"

She stretched her legs, then drew them up in front of her pink nightshirt. I loved her legs. They were her best feature - long, slim, and smooth, revealing firm swells of delicate muscle that rose and fell beneath satin olive skin.

"It looked real enough to me."

"Did it?"

"Come on. You mean I imagined him kissing you, fondling your breasts, masturbating you in public? All that never happened?"

"I didn't say that, did I?"

"Then exactly what part of all this wasn't real, Linda? Are you telling me you didn't fuck him?"

"I'm asking you to consider that things may not always be what they seem to be. Do you remember telling me one of your fantasies? The night you took me to dinner on our last anniversary? How we came home, both a little tipsy after the bottle of wine with dinner, and exchanged fantasies before we made love?"

"I - I guess so - Christ, it that what this is about?"

"You said you thought about me having sex with another man, a stranger, a well-endowed one, if I remember correctly."

"But that was a fantasy! I told you I'd never want to live it out - that I couldn't get around the jealousy I'd feel."

"But you're living it out in your head, David. The things you saw could easily have been suggestions, innuendoes, illusions."

"What I saw was another man's hand between your legs, playing with you till you got off. You had an orgasm, in public for Christ sake!"

"Are you sure, David? It was real to you. Does that mean it actually happened - everything - just the way you're remembering it now?"

"So you didn't fuck him?"

"Does it really matter? Think about us, David - what our marriage had become before last night, and where we are tonight. I was going to leave you. I love you desperately, but my confidence that you still loved me was gone. I lost faith in you, us, even myself. I didn't intend to use your fantasy to punish you, but it did plant the seed of an idea that seemed to offer what I needed to heal. I know I hurt you. I'm sorry.

"You have to decide, David. Was what you went through last night worth saving our marriage? Did you learn how agonizing infidelity can be to someone you betray, even if it is just sex? But most importantly, can two people love each other enough to forgive shared disloyalties and move on, using the past to strengthen their future?"

I was stunned. I had thought long and hard about the motive for her actions - revenge, punishment, or perhaps I had pushed her far beyond any rational response. I failed to consider that she did it for our marriage, a risky, final attempt to save us.

I didn't have words for what I felt, so I turned to her and kissed her. It was the kind of kiss that told her my decision was an easy one. She unfolded and pressed the length of her body against me, a perfect thigh thrown over my hip, her soft belly thrust tightly against my growing erection. She stopped now and then, sometimes to nibble playfully at my ear or neck, other times just to stare hopefully at me. A kind of joy filled her eyes that I had never seen.

Then, as her lips brushed my ear again, she whispered playfully, "Now, about that little fantasy or yours. Let me tell you what a bad girl I've been."

Don,
Thank you for your time and effort...a master at your craft and you never disappoint

Rover68uk

Thanks very much, Rover. I had hoped the "forbidden word" issue had been addressed, but unfortunately it has not. My apologies for the "***" omissions in the text, but as many here know, it's out of my control. That you read the post in spite of it is very much appreciated.

Don

Excellent story Don. Thank you so much.
Peter C

Thank you Don, this was a fantastic read... Please continue. I just rated this as excellent and it is well deserved.

Peter and cuckold_2: Very happy you liked it. The story stood alone for a long time, but I've played with continuing it. I wanted to explore the two main characters a bit more. Some enjoyed the added chapters, and some had less enthusiastic reactions. In some audiences, readers complained that Linda was a cruel bitch and thought David should have left her the night of her revenge. I had a different take on how love might keep a couple together under the most trying circumstances. Exploring the triggers that lead to hotwifing and cuckoldry are interesting to me as well. I'll try a few "extended" chapters here and wait for the response. Good or bad, it's just been an experiment, so no hard feelings.

Don

Best Served Cold - Chapter 2, The Night After


"Now, about that little fantasy of yours. Let me tell you what a bad girl I've been."

She stripped off her nightshirt, moved her leg over me, and straddled me seconds after that. It surprised me - how she seemed to know she could get me hard so soon after our talk about our time with her 'lover', Stephan. She wiggled her hips a little, letting my erection grow under her, centering it between the lips of her drenched sex. Then she was still, looking down at me expectantly, as if she was waiting for me begin.

"Well, don't you want to know?"

I was sure she was teasing. She wasn't.

She leaned forward, suspended over me on her outstretched arms. Her eyes locked on mine as though she was sifting through my thoughts. She wasn't just waiting, she was studying me. I wondered if it was to predict what I might say, or whether she was deciding what secrets to reveal. How could she have healed so quickly? Was our marriage really as fragile as I still feared?

"I already asked you that," I told her. "I mean, whether you really fucked him."

She pressed her hips into me and held them there. I pushed against her instinctively, thrusting upward just once, testing, unsure of what she wanted. More silence, frozen there together, straining against each other, crotch to crotch.

"Have you thought about it? Imagined what it might have been like? I mean, if you could have watched us there, in the room?"

"I can't stop thinking about it," I admitted, "after all the things he said, and how you told me yourself he 'owned you'. It's just that I keep trying to believe none of it happened, but I can't. It was too real, watching his hands on you, watching you kiss him. I do imagine his hotel room, the bed, him undressing you, and you wanting him to fuck you. I can even see you together fucking, in my more desperate moments. After that, just before you come, it all goes black. I just can't go there."

"Have you really forgotten I've come with other men? Before we were married?"

"But that's not the same, and you know it. It's the thought of your face when it happens, the sounds and look I know so well, all while I'm rejected and afraid I've destroyed our marriage. How can you even compare the two?"

She sat up again and placed a finger against my lips.

"Shhh... shhh... shhh..."

I stopped ruminating out loud, regretting it had let my erection fade. Her body towered over me, so naked and beautiful, now so willing and forgiving, but still ripe with answers I might not want to hear. When she felt my cock shrink, she reached between her legs and ran her fingertips lightly over the head until she brought it back to life. I ached to put it inside her and chase all the unresolved chaos away.

"Think back, to the night you wanted to hear about the men I was with before you. I told you about having sex with them, most of them I guess, and all the things about them you wanted to hear. Remember the hot guy in college who almost made me come just looking at his gorgeous, naked body? And how effortlessly I orgasmed two or three times with him every time we did it? And just after I started my first job, the older man at my office who seduced me? How he tied me to the bed and played with me for such a long time? How I had to beg him over and over to fuck me? When I told you that night, you were so hard, and went a little crazy when we fucked. I'd never seen you like that before. I never told you, but that night stayed with me. I loved you like that - letting your fantasies take you over, fucking me like someone I didn't know. It was the best sex I've had - with anyone, ever."

I was stunned.

"But, you said so much last night, about how you did things with him we never did, that you'd do anything for him. You said you weren't my wife when you went with him upstairs, that you were his and he could do anything he wanted to you. I didn't imagine all that. It was real. I was there."

"You hurt me, David. I had too much to d r i n k. I wanted to hurt you back. They were just words to do that. I'm not even sure where some of them came from."

"So, you did fuck him. I - I just can't believe you'd do it."

"I didn't say I fucked him. I said I wanted to hurt you."

"So you didn't?"

"What's important now is that I think you know how it hurts to be betrayed. Just like the men from my past, the strangers we've fucked are incidental, as long as they're strangers. Joanna is history, gone from her job and your life from what you've told me, just like my old lovers. I'd rather not know more about her. I just want her to stay a stranger."

"Like Stephan?"

Linda paused, again finally smiling down at me.

"Imagine a dream, David:

Imagine I meet a handsome stranger I can't resist. Think of him as faceless, with a perfect body, and, the thing you men always obsess about, a huge cock. It's lunch time, and we go to that same bar to have a d r i n k. One d r i n k becomes two, he invites me upstairs to fuck, and I can't say no. It's dirty, and quick, and he fucks me like an a n i m a l. We get dressed and leave after an hour, and I never see him again.

"In the dream, do I come?"

"Um, sure. I can see that - or at least imagine it."

"So, what do you see?"

"I see your legs around his back, your body stiffen for an instant like it always does, then your eyes close and you moan, very loudly, while you come."

"And in your dream, if my sex with him was wonderful, and I think about it all day until I come home to you, and it makes me devour you like a rabid whore that night, would you want to fuck me right after you wake up from that dream?"

"I guess I would...yeah."

"Your cock is definitely telling me you would. And I'd really like it inside me now..."

I'm not sure we fucked like the memory of her best fuck ever, but she rode me like a demon on a mission to fix us.

Brief flashes of the night before returned to me as I looked up along her smooth belly and full, quivering breasts.

[Stephan]
"She went to her knees the first time I asked. I can still see her small fingers unzipping me, fumbling with my belt. And later, again, in the park, how her diamond sparkled in the afternoon sun."


[Linda]
"Something happens to me when I take him in my hands. I could play with his cock for hours. God David, if you only knew how wet I am just thinking about it."


[Stephan]
"A wife's sexual emancipation can be very arousing. Linda's a beautiful woman, a seething reservoir of untapped potential. Witnessing the results when the floodgates are pried open can be exhilarating, even life-changing, if you'll allow it."

[Linda]
"I want you to know that another man touched me in ways that made me dripping wet - a man so beautiful, so skillful at what a woman needs, that I'd do anything for him."

[Stephan]
"Just imagine your own lovely wife satisfied again and again by another man - so willing to submit, to crave the taste of him, so eager to surrender herself to the indulgent bliss of his cock burrowing its way deep into her belly. I'd bet your pulse jumps a little at the very idea. Tell me I'm wrong, if you honestly can."


Suddenly, she leaned over me again and lay on my chest, still thrusting furiously up and down on my cock. I felt her mouth against my ear, her breath hitting me in ragged gusts. She delivered the halting words with as much effort as she could summon.

"It doesn't matter - who I've fucked - or when - or where. I'm yours - all yours."

I lost control and emptied myself into her.

Best Served Cold - Chapter 3, The Past - Dark Confessions

Sex had never been a problem for us in our past. At first it was usually vanilla, sometimes with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Linda had never been shy about what she needed, but was more comfortable showing me than telling me. I wasn't much different - until that night years ago when we had returned from our anniversary dinner at a new upscale restaurant. We went to bed early after just a little too much wine, and for the very first time, I had asked for her fantasies.

"Um, I really don't have any. Well not many," she had answered, with little apparent interest.

"That's OK. Just tell me one of yours, and I'll tell you one of mine," I had offered.

She turned toward me and rose up on one elbow, peering over at me with suspicion.

"What brought this on? Is there something you need to tell me?"

I had hoped it would go a different way.

"It's nothing like that - like a confession or anything. We've never done this, and I'm in the mood to hear something sexy about you. C'mon, just one of your deep, dark, dirty secrets? Something I'd never guess."

She frowned a little. I wondered if she was thinking of something too dark and dirty to tell me, or whether she was merely annoyed by the idea.

"Um - why don't you go first? Then maybe I'll know what this is all about."

She was still there, still looking at me with raised eyebrows, somewhat amused, as though she thought I might back down if she batted the request back at me.

"Well, you know how curious I've always been about you and your past boyfriends. You never give me much of an answer."

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"And I keep insisting there's nothing to tell. Nothing 'dark and dirty' at least. Yes, I had sex with four or five old boyfriends. Some of it was just OK, and some was great. Is my history with old boyfriends part of your fantasy? Because it isn't that dark or dirty, no matter what you might think."

"It's not that. Not exactly. My fantasy is watching you have sex with someone else, now, when we're married. I hinted at this before. I guess you didn't take me seriously."

Her expression had grown more sober. She squinted at me before she spoke.

"So, who would this be, exactly? I mean, would you really want to do this?"

I shook my head and smiled.

"Absolutely not. It's a fantasy. I love your body - I'm absolutely addicted to it. I can't see you naked without getting at least a little hard, like when you get dressed in the morning, or undressed at night, or when you're in the tub, all wet and soapy, and call me in to tell me something. Don't you notice how I stare? Or when I try to steal a peek when you may not suspect it?"

"Oh, I notice all right. It's nice that you never stop wanting me. I guess I should tell you that more often, especially when you're perving around the house hoping to catch me naked!"

She grinned at me and softened a bit. I could see her nipples stiffen through her nightshirt and tried not to stare.

"But it's not just that. I want to watch your body while you have sex. I want to see what I can't see when I'm in the same bed fucking you. And I'm fascinated about how you might respond, what you might do with another man. I doubt I could bear really watching you and him together, but it's still a fantasy. That's it. That's all. I just imagine it."

Linda thought for a long time. She looked down over the sheet to see if I was hard, then back at me again after I knew she saw I was. "So, if you never want to actually go through with any of it, what will you do about it? Will you always just think about it and never tell me again?" she asked.

"I think what we should do is hear your fantasy now. It's your turn, remember?"

She had flopped down on her back beside me and let out an exasperated sigh. The bedside light was still on, and I studied her profile as she stared at the ceiling. There was always something about her face in profile that stopped my breath for a second, especially when she lifted her chin just a little with lips slightly parted. It was both elegant in its fine features and high cheekbones, and c h i l d l i k e in her expression of wonder and innocence. It hadn't changed at all from her college years, up through that very night.

"It was my very first job after college. Yes, I know. We were engaged. But there was this slightly older man who hit on me relentlessly. I told you a little about him before. Remember? He was slim and athletic, very good looking, and so charismatic. He never asked if I had a boyfriend, and I don't think he cared. From the instant Jordan and I met, I was mesmerized by him, in a way that made me warm between my legs. I tried to ignore all of it, both his advances and the feelings I had for him.

"Eventually we went to lunch together, and then it was almost every day. He invited me to go with him to a party one Friday night. You were away on business. I was lonely, so I went with him. The more time I spent with him away from work, the harder it was to resist him. By the end of the night I was in love - or thought I was. He took me home, and we fucked. But not just that once. We did it every Friday night you were away, although there was never another party as an excuse.

"He broke my heart in a way. It was never anything other than sex for him. But I was so drawn to him, so obsessed. I was terrified you'd call off our engagement if you find out, but you never knew."

Linda had gone silent, still staring at the ceiling. Minutes passed as I tried to think back for any clue that she had been with him. It had been too many years, and all my Friday nights from that time were hazy or forgotten. There was nothing I could remember that would have given her affair away, even in light of the obsession she claimed had overwhelmed her.

"So, is that the kind of fantasy you wanted?"

Her voice was fragile and weak. Did she regret confessing to me, or had the obsession returned to haunt her?

"It's not exactly a fantasy though, is it?" I asked quietly. "Is there more?"

"He tied me to the bed, David. He played with me until I thought I might pass out from exhaustion and the need to come. He made me beg him to fuck me, and when I did he told me it wasn't enough. Other nights he'd make me crawl across the room with my wrists and ankles tied, then suck him. He'd masturbate while he watched me squirm and inch my way across the carpet, then complain how I'd disappointed him when I struggled to get his cock in my mouth with my hands tied. He always used a condom when we fucked - I was terrified I've have his c h i l d instead of yours and you'd never know. Oh God...the times I sucked him, there was so much semen I'd c h o k e on it and he'd punish me and I wouldn't get to come at all that night. I don't know how much of it I swallowed by the time we stopped - gallons? It sounds so disgusting, doesn't it? But David, I wanted it. I craved it - all of it. At times I would have given up our life together just to know it would never stop. But it did.

"The obsession never left me, David. But I found the obsession wasn't for him at all. It was to be played with, controlled and used by a powerful, charismatic man, to have those same crushing orgasms as when I struggled against the ropes and knew I pleased him. All this time I've chased it away, found solace in the wonderful sex we have together, but never told you. So that's it, David. That's my fantasy. Is it deep and dark enough for you?"

She turned away from me and turned off the light. I could hear her sobbing. I spooned against her and wiped the tears from her cheek, but there were so many. They had been my words back then, the same words she'd use with me much later.

"It doesn't matter - none of it matters - you're mine, all mine."

Best Served Cold - Chapter 4, The Past II - Diving Deeper

Linda had been fine the next day. But I wanted to make sure she knew I didn't think less of her because of one fantasy, or any of her past that had brought it to the surface.

I had come home early and had made a huge pan of paella with fresh seafood. Linda was home before it was ready, and she went to the bedroom to change. Back then she still wore blouses and suits that warned other men she was all business. If she had had a hard day at work, she would slip into her usual nightshirt before dinner and be ready for bed by 9:00. I watched her close her lips around the extra-large shrimp and take bites from their firm, white bodies, savoring the buttery flavor of the rice and spices. Granted, I had been preoccupied with her story from the night before, but watching her there across the table, obviously naked under her shirt, had filled me with images of her helplessly but eagerly submitting to her former lover.

"I loved your fantasy last night. We should share things like that more often. I wish I had known sooner. I thought about it all day."

She looked surprised for a second, then tried her best to hide it.

"I shouldn't have been so upset. I just didn't know how you'd react. It's the only fantasy I've had that's lasted for years, I guess, and I've always thought about telling you. The time was just never right. I'm glad you don't think I'm a freak."

"You know me better than that. At least you should. Maybe I should remind you how beautiful and sexy you are more often. Anyway, why would you ever think that?"

She stopped eating for a few seconds and looked down into her lap. She had never been embarrassed by sex. This was so unusual for her. I couldn't imagine what else she could be hiding.

"Sometimes I think about what I must have looked like - crawling around on the floor, begging to be fucked to the point of exhaustion, and God, there was just so much semen on so many nights. If someone would have seen me... And then, just when I cringe and want to curl up in a ball and hide from all of it, I want it again. It's like something in my b l o o d. It builds and builds until I masturbate to thoughts of those times with him, and then it all goes away for a while. Do you think that's horrible?"

"I don't think it's good that you've hidden it from me for so long. And I think you should let go of the idea that it's something to be ashamed of. You may not understand why, but I think all of your stories about him are very, very exciting. Seeing you like that would have had me hard in an instant - not only because I always love seeing you naked, but because seeing you let go, abandoning all the things that might keep you from being completely open and satisfied when you have sex, well, I can't think of anything I'd love more."

"You're not just saying that? Even though my fantasy is so slutty? Ugghh, I can't believe I still want all that, even now and then."

"I'd like to help, if I can. Instead of living with so much frustration, maybe you'd feel better if we could play with it a little. I think I know enough to get started, but you'll have to tell me what you want. Can you do that?"

She could.

I had tied her wrists to the headboard that night and teased her for an hour. I remember her eyes when I brought out a large dildo we had bought months before but had rarely used. I told her to close her eyes and imagine it was him, and that she'd have to beg for every inch if she ever wanted to come. I gave her less than that, a half an inch at a time, until she thrashed and pleaded for more. When the dildo filled her, he told her to raise her hips off the bed to capture even more of it. She eagerly complied, and I worked her clit gently between my fingers until she came. I watched her tremble and gasp, praised her all the while, and assured her she had pleased him.

She was limp and sweaty when I untied her. She smiled at me, and wanted me to fuck her. "After all that?" I asked. "Especially after all that," she told me. "I want you inside me. Now I want to watch you come."

She simply relaxed under me and watched as I buried myself in her, over and over. I closed my eyes as she urged me on.

"He felt so good inside me, David. Did you like watching us? Did you like watching me come for him? Did you? Did you? I want you to watch him fuck me, David. I want you to watch me. Watch me suck him. Watch me come for him..."

Her stark submissiveness shocked me a little. I had never heard those words from her, or the same tone of her voice. She had made herself intentionally meek and docile, a willing receptacle to service me, just as she had serviced him.

I felt her fingers circle the base of my cock as I came in her. It was electric - and I pounded her furiously until it passed. Time always stops when I come, but it held me that time, body rigid, unable to breathe, longer than I could ever remember. It could have been hours. If only it had been.

We had both collapsed and slept, but talked the next day. Had I given her what she needed? Was it enough? At least until her fantasy beckoned again?

"It was wonderful, David. I don't know why I was afraid to tell you. I won't hide my fantasies from you again - I promise."

"So, it was everything you wanted - everything you need?"

I remember the slight pause, as if she was trying to find the right words.

"David, I loved what you did. I love that you're my husband, and that you keep surprising me each time I worry what you might think of me."

She paused again, eyeing me cautiously.

"But in spite of what we'd like to believe, no one person can be everything to anyone. A husband can be loving and caring; he can protect his wife and provide for her, and be such a wonderful, reliable lover. But there are very attractive men who aren't at all like that, especially to someone with fantasies like mine. The very things that make you a perfect, loving husband set you part from them. You're safe and kind, and they're aloof and dangerous. Jordan was that kind of man, after I got to know him. I knew he'd never love me, but I went back again and again for the unknown, the suspense, and the freedom to be with a dangerous stranger who wouldn't judge me for my obsessions. Men like Jordan aren't afraid to take what they want, even if it's someone's girlfriend, fiance, or wife."

"So it's the 'bad boy' thing then. The dangerous stranger who's good for your pussy, but bad for your life? I guess I get that. It's not the first time I've heard it, but it's a surprise coming from you. But I'm fine with it. I know I'm not that guy. In fact, I wouldn't want to be."

"So it doesn't scare you? That it amps up my fantasy? I'm not looking - I promise. But I said I'd be honest from now on."

"It doesn't scare me at all. It's kind of a hot fantasy, actually - my innocent little wife putting herself in the hands of some big, strong, scary guy with a huge cock."

"I'm serious, David. It doesn't have to be a scary guy with a huge cock, just not someone I know, or my husband - I mean, in my fantasy. You must recognize that when you come, you have all kinds of orgasms, right? Some are shorter, some are longer, some are deeply moving, and some are insanely intense and wild. All of those are good. Most are probably a little of each, all mixed together. What I'm saying is that sometimes it's the presence of an aggressive, forbidden stranger that makes the difference between 'insanely intense' and 'off the scale'."

"You mean the man and the fantasy together, right?"

"Exactly. I love what you did for me last night. It was insanely intense."

"But not off the scale," I conceded. "I'm not your bad boy fantasy. That's fine. I can live with that."

"I wish you wouldn't put it like that, David. You're the fantasy husband I never thought I'd have. You don't have to be anything more for me. I hope you believe that."

She had pulled the nightshirt up over her head and dropped it on the floor. It was a conversation stopper she had used time and time again. I stared as she walked slowly to my chair, wriggled her firm little ass into my lap, and nuzzled my ear.

"Come on, 'fantasy boy' - are you going to fuck me or not?"

Best Served Cold - Chapter 5, Awakenings

We fucked a lot in the weeks and months that followed our harrowing night with Stephan. Some nights were cautious, but still loving. Others were frantic, hours-long orgies of every act and position we could think of. We were competing to repair the painful wreckage of our marriage, the result of my infidelity, but also of her planned revenge. It was a new awakening for us, but one still tainted with betrayal.

At times I wondered if I could be tempted again, whether a woman with her sights set on dragging me into that pit of deceit could eventually take me there again and pull me under. But Linda had become my life. Every second of every day I was reminded of the pain I had caused her, and how fortunate I was to still be with her.

Linda's effort was just as concerted, if not more, even though she had much more to forgive. She wasn't only more passionately wanton in the bedroom; she became a mouthwatering siren for me everywhere we went. She orphaned her old jeans for stylish slacks made of the most supple materials that molded her legs and ass into a delicious, living sculpture. Her closet became a high-priced boutique of fitted tops and silky blouses, always with an option to show a little cleavage when she knew it would make me crazy. Even her work clothes were a bit less modest. When I teased her about who might notice at her office, she grinned and told me, "In your dreams, fantasy boy." If her plan was to keep me lusting after her twenty four hours a day, she had succeeded. It wasn't lost on me that other men began to look as well. She never flirted, but there was something in her stride that told me she was always aware, and always a little giddy from the extra attention.

Best Served Cold - Chapter 6, Revelations


"David, I'm not fucking him. I'm not lying to you. I'm really not."

We were sitting outside in our screened lanai on a hot, summer, Sunday afternoon. Linda lay in the lounge chair beside me nursing her second iced tea. I pretended to be immersed in a new paperback, but couldn't take my eyes off her. Her pale skin didn't tan well, but on weekends around the house she poured herself into these tiny little shorts, I was sure just to keep me horny.

Sex on Sunday afternoons had become a ritual for us - for her, really. I'd watch while she pranced around in front of me for half the day, then wait for her to slither next to me and slide her hand up the leg of my shorts. It hadn't come to that yet, but it was only a little after noon.

A small tuft of hair escaped the inner leg of her shorts along with a portion of plump labia. She rarely shaved down there, and I wondered how many others were blessed with the same view before summer's end.

I had made her a few crop tops from some of her worn out T-shirts. The colors had been bleached to pale grays and whites from years of wear, and many of the seams had opened into ragged holes, so she refused wear them any longer in public. Now they were cool and comfortable around the house in July and August, and she knew I loved seeing her in them. The bottom edges where I had cut a foot of material away continued to fray, making them shorter and shorter over time. I loved the way they exposed the bottom curves of her breasts, and then much more when she reached for a cup or dish from one of the kitchen cabinets.

I took a chance and asked again. "So, what about Stephan? How did you meet him, or find him, or whatever?"

It was one of her secrets I hadn't felt comfortable asking more about, but half a year had passed since that night, and seeing her there half naked beside me had me wondering just how much of her he saw in that infamous hotel room. Had they fucked or not? She still hadn't committed to an answer that wasn't vague or misleading.

"I don't think you're fucking him. I'd just like some straight answers to a few honest questions. Finally. After all this time. I don't need to know - I want to know. It's old baggage - I can take it."

She turned her head and studied me for a while, sighed, then told me, "OK - I guess it's time."

"Stephan isn't Stephan - he's Michael, an old friend from college. And I mean 'friend'. We met at a campus campfire when I started in the fall. He was an upper classman when I was a freshman, and he kind of took me under his wing. He was a big deal on campus - class president, wealthy family, and the ultimate catch for all the prissy sorority 'bunnies'. I'm not sure what he saw in me - we just kind of clicked. I think he majored in both English and business, but he wanted to be an actor. I heard he moved to New York and almost made it off-Broadway, for a while. Later he moved back and opened his own publishing house here in the city. Our company does art layouts for his books and publications. I met him again two years ago at a job fair. I was working our booth when he happened by and he took me to lunch. We see each other now and then through work."

"So how does Stephan, or Michael, or whoever, go from just an old friend to fingering you in front of me in a public bar?"

"David, he and I fucked a few times in college, but mostly we were just friends. Nothing's happened since. He's still a close friend. When I found the pictures of Joanna I was devastated. I needed a friend, and Michael was there for me. One day at lunch I told him that I was so angry it would serve you right if I did the same to you. When he asked if I was serious, I was shocked. He's still a gorgeous, sexy man, and it was tempting, but I just couldn't fuck him out of anger. He said he'd done some acting, and that he could make you believe I had fucked him out of spite if I thought it would help. I turned him down - I was afraid of what you might do. But later, when I found the pain wasn't going away, I asked him to help."

"And, how did he help? I can imagine a few ways..."

"And you'd imagine wrong, David. He wrote a script. That was his doing. We rehearsed. I wanted him to fondle me in front of you. I wanted it to be so real you'd ***** on it. So we did all that together, just a few times until I remembered most of the lines. He was much better at it than I was, and he promised he'd prompt me when the time came to do it.

"I won't lie to you David. There were times when he put his hands on me that I wished he would tear my clothes off and fuck me. I'm pretty sure he felt the same way. The second time we rehearsed I could see he was hard every minute. I tried to remember what his cock was like back then, back when I had it in my hands, and, well everything else we did with it. He was so close, unbuttoning my blouse, stroking my leg - I'd look down at his lap and think there was only a belt and zipper between me and his hard cock, and that it would be so easy to just take it out, suck it again, and have it in me one more time. But neither of us had that last bit of will to go through with it. And, I was still hurting so much.

"That night, up in the room after we left you, he offered. But only if I wanted him. He asked me if he could watch while I put my bra and panties back on, so I let him. I wanted him to see me, David. I wanted to be naked there with him, to show him all the signs that, although I couldn't fuck him while you suffered down in the bar, I was wet for him - soaking, dripping, crazy fucking wet for him.

"I told him he could touch me. I couldn't say it, but I wanted his hand between my legs. I thought cumming would make it better, that it would let me be myself again after, and I could tell you later that I didn't cheat, that he didn't fuck me. I was shaking when he put his hands on my breasts. After that he stopped and moved back to look me. I didn't want him to stop, David. But he just smiled and said he liked me that way, the way he remembered me right before he fucked me with those last final strokes, the ones that made me moan like the 'best little freshman piece of ass' he'd ever had. I wondered if I'd have liked hearing it as much back in school as I did there, standing in front of him. No one ever calls me 'the best piece of ass they've ever had' - not even you. But if a piece of ass is what I had to be for him, I was willing to be just that.

"We hugged before I left him. I pressed my hand against his pants and curled my fingers around the girth of his cock. I just stood there, clinging to the front of his pants, holding it, holding him, a second away from getting on my knees like I used to do with him. He could have had me if he insisted. But instead he reached out to me, lifted my face gently, and asked me if I'd regret it the next day. When I couldn't bring myself to answer, he smiled and told me he thought I would.

"I rode the elevator down, wondering if you'd still be there. When I couldn't find you, I panicked - at first because I thought you might have left me for good, but then, a second later I feared I'd give up looking too willingly, ride the elevator to his room again, take him inside me, and drain every drop of cum from his body. I'm not sure how many times I walked to the elevator and back before I found you. You took my arm, we left together snuggled against each other, and I was relieved that the elevator would soon be many city blocks behind us."

I'm not sure what words to use to describe what her story did to me. I had hoped what I witnessed that night was fiction, feared that it wasn't, but wasn't prepared for a twisted mix of both. My heart was pounding. She got up, moved to where I sat, and lowered herself into my lap, straddling me.

"Are you OK?"

"I - I'm not sure. I didn't expect that - I mean, the parts where you wanted him to touch you, and you wanting to be naked with him, and how you wanted his cock. All that was real? And how desperate you were for him to fuck you?"

"I promised you the truth someday, David. That's what I gave you. Do you know where you are? You look a little stunned. Maybe I should have waited..."

I put my hands under her top and explored her breasts with my fingertips. Her nipples hardened immediately, and she put her hands over mine, guiding them. Her eyes widened with understanding and she let out a sigh of relief. I knew she could feel my erection growing under her.

"If it happened today, would you take the elevator back up?" I asked.

"Would you like that, David? As a fantasy, or the real thing?"

She unbuttoned my shirt and ran her hands lovingly over my bare chest. Her voice was sultry and deep, almost a growl.

"Becaaause...I'm sure if I asked...he'd be more than happy to do me. Orrr, I could come home someday...and tell you allll about how I sucked his cock...and how he fucked your wife for hours and hours. And you'd nevvver, evvver, know if it was real or not. Remember, I'm the best - little - piece of freshman ass, he's ever had."

"So, I'd never know for sure? I'd never know if your story really happened or not? But you might at least pretend you did it, right? Like one of our a fantasies."

She grinned, worked her crotch slowly forward and back along my cock, and told me, "Yes, David, I believe I would. Now let's go to bed. Let me show you what a bad girl I could be."

"Oh - Michael's number is in my cell. All I'd have to do is sliiide my finger along the surface, touch his name, and when he answers, ask him to fuck me."

Best Served Cold - Chapter 7, Winter of Discontent

A year had passed since the night I had paid for my infidelity. It was winter again, and the season resurrected ghosts from the time I sat across from Linda and Stephan in the Excelsior hotel bar. Linda and I had walked home through the city streets together in the snow. At the time, I feared it was the end of us, but we had found a new beginning by summer. Early snow flurries teased me with returning memories of that night, along with all the emotions that accompanied them. The first snow seemed to put Linda in a melancholy mood, and I wondered if shadows of our history haunted her as well.

I watched from our bedroom window as the snow fell. It was just after sunset, and the streets were still busy with early holiday shoppers. From eight stories up, the fine, tiny flakes floated and whirled in a deceiving promise the storm might wait until daylight before blanketing the streets and paralyzing traffic. The city had just begun to put up holiday decorations, and the snow sparkled as it danced near the colored lights on its chaotic fall to the ground.

Linda arrived behind me and put her arms around my waist, watching the brunt of winter arrive as well. She gave me little hugs as we stood there together, and finally nuzzled the back of my neck with her nose.

"It seems like yesterday, doesn't it?" she said thoughtfully. "The time passes so quickly."

"Have you seen him?" I asked.

"Now and then. Work stuff. He's the same."

"Lunches with him?"

"Not often. A few weeks ago. More work stuff."

"Do you think about him?"

"I do. You know, now and then."

We stood quietly for a while longer, staring down into the street.

"There is something we need to do, you know?" she continued quietly.

"Lot's to do," I answered, then sighed.

"One thing. Tonight? A place where I can get a strawberry daiquiri?"

"This isn't a repeat performance with him, is it?"

"Nope." She nuzzled me again, trailing her fingers across my cheek before she made her way to the bathroom.

~*~

The walk to the Excelsior seemed to take longer than I remembered, maybe due to my dread of what had happened there. The wind hadn't picked up yet, and the snow was light and fluffy. Linda took my arm, but we didn't talk on the way. I noticed the snow speckling her hair and remembered my thoughts, now a year old. 'Like brilliant rhinestones on black velvet'. She'd glance at me and smile, then turn her sight back toward our destination. I saw the Excelsior as a well of anxiety, but she was celebrating our new beginning. Strange how we pictured the place existing in two different worlds.

The hotel bar was busy, and they were still serving food. A waiter met us at the entrance and led us to a table at the far side of the room. Linda tugged on his arm and stopped him.

"Wait. Could we have the booth, over there, in the corner?"

He left us menus and took our d r i n k order before rushing away.

"It's the same one, isn't it?" I asked. "Where we sat before?"

"It is," she answered, smiling at me.

She shrugged her coat off her shoulders. Under it was the same flowered dress.

"The dress too?" Now I had to smile.

"Don't you like it? Maybe you'd like me to make some changes? Maybe with the way it fits? Or something else?"

The waiter returned with our d r i n k s, but before he rushed away again, she stopped him.

"Excuse me. Does a 'Chuck' still work here? Cute guy, in his twenties, very friendly..."

"Nope - don't know him," he said quickly, without even looking at her. "Do you want to order from the menu?"

"We're fine for now," she told him. "Oh - but could you bring us another round of *****s? That way we won't bother you again for a while."

He raced off to the bar again.

Linda sipped her daiquiri, and I downed half my shot of scotch in one gulp. I had ordered it neat, and someone had put ice in my 12 year old single malt.

"So, what do you think? About my dress? Any changes you'd like to make?" The corners of her mouth turned up a little. Her eyes were wide and liquid.

"As a matter of fact, there are," I answered, smiling. I'd like you to put your panties here, on the table, right beside my d r i n k. Can you do that, Linda?" That got a wider smile from her. I could play this game. I knew all about the rules - there weren't any.

"I certainly can, for a big, handsome guy like you. I'll do anything you want. I'll be right back."

I grabbed her wrist before she could slide across the seat.

"No, no. I want you to take them off here, at the table. What color are they?"

She blushed, then glanced quickly around the room.

"Um, they're black."

"What do they look like. Describe them."

"Lacy. Very thin. And tiny. Very tiny."

"Are they thin enough to see your pussy through them?"

She cleared her throat, looked around the room again, and finally answered.

"Um-hmm. My husband likes them that way."

"Good. Let's see them."

She slid her hand under the dress near the wall, felt around for the scrap of lace at her hip, then, looking carefully out over the room, drew the panties down her legs and over her shoes. I was impressed. Where had she learned to do that? It was almost as if she had practiced it.

She left them on the seat beside her.

I tapped a spot on the table, beside my glass. "Not there, here."

I thought I was challenging her, but she surprised me when they fell from her open fist onto the table. They were black, just like she had said, and they were now a slowly expanding ball of wadded lace, resting in front of me by my d r i n k.

"And the rest?" I asked.

"The rest?"

"Yes. The rest of what you have on under that pretty dress."

For the first time that night, Linda was at a loss for words. She looked down at the menu, and was silent for a full minute before she spoke.

"But you can't expect me to - I mean, not here in the open?"

"How difficult can it be? Tell me what's under your dress."

She glanced around again, then leaned toward me and lowered her voice.

"My bra. Nothing else. I'll take it off for you, but not here. Over there, in the ladies room?"

I fingered the side of my glass for a few seconds, then downed the rest of my scotch. She was waiting for an answer, still pressed forward over the table, eyes wide with excitement.

The waiter brought our second round of d r i n k s. I lowered my eyes to the second glass, again with two large ice cubes, so I stopped him to complain. "It's top shelf scotch. I've ordered it 'neat' twice now. Can you fix it?" He scooped up the glass without a word and hurried away once again. It wasn't the service we remembered.

Linda raised her eyebrows. She looked surprised. "Well, my husband certainly wouldn't have been that forward. I'm impressed."

I stared for a long time at the buttons down the front of her dress. It narrowed to a snug fit just below her bust, and I could see the buttons part here and there to reveal bare skin underneath. "About your dress, Linda, and what's under it. Before you run off to the ladies room, undo the buttons. I want to see." I doubted she'd refuse. She had done the same for Stephan in that very same booth, one year ago. She didn't disappoint me.

"Um, OK. But if my husband knew what I'm doing, well, he'd be very upset."

"Your husband isn't here. Now, the buttons?"

She began to undo them, slowly, running her fingers lightly over each one before slipping it through the tight slit beneath it. I wondered how far she'd go.

"Is, this what you want?" she asked, with a sober stare.

She had stopped after the third one, and the dress had burst open to show me the inner curves of her breasts and the edges of the black bra through the opening. I remembered that she had gone much further for Stephan, but the bar had been almost empty by that hour, and I knew she had been swept away by anger, and her fantasies of s u b m i s s i o n to him.

"Good. I see it matches your panties. Did your husband buy the bra and panties for you?"

"He didn't. I bought them so he'd fuck me," she whispered.

"Doesn't he fuck you?"

"Of course. But not always the way I want it."

Her smile grew slowly after she said it. It became wider and more lascivious by the second. It was my turn to be impressed.

I nodded toward the rest rooms.

"Don't button up. Just bring me your bra."

"I'll be right back," she said. She was still smiling as she left our booth.

I watched her cross the room, circle the bar, then disappear. Linda always turned a few heads in public, even when I was there beside her. Had I been there at the bar and saw her pass by, I would have been occupied with my own fantasies. She was a walking contradiction - at first glance, a refined, beautiful woman out for a cocktail with her husband; but after a longer look at the front of her dress, the way she moved with such a purposeful, confident stride, and the fuck-me look in her eyes, she'd more than pass for an entirely corruptible wife, easily enticed by the right man with a cock she found irresistible.

But Linda had always been able to appear to be one thing to men, and then an instant later, chameleon-like, become whatever she decided they wanted her to be. She had been a late bloomer, eventually evolving into a beguiling siren in her late twenties. Even now she could reach into her past and revive the innocent-but-seductive w o m a n - c h i l d I knew when we met. Boys loved it then, and men salivated over it later. She knew it, and I was sure she used it, sometimes to flirt with an attractive man, and other times just to make me crazy. It worked, for both purposes.

More than few men looked as she paraded her breasts by them, but surprisingly, no one hit on her. I wondered if they would have if she had opened another button or two, and if she would have been daring enough to flirt, or maybe sit and have a d r i n k with them, had they offered.

She returned with the same buttons opened, no more determined to reach our booth than the time than it took to leave it. Once in the booth across from me again, I could see the bra was gone. Men at the bar must have enjoyed a surprisingly generous view of her breasts when she passed them. They were pushed upward and exposed where the dress parted, nearly revealing each pouting nipple. Still, she didn't seem at all embarrassed - in fact she looked electrified. There was something in her that wanted them to see her like that. She needed to be seen as a wife offering her body to a stranger - a lust-driven, desirable woman any man in that bar would fuck if she gave them the slightest sign she wanted it. She wasn't about to lose our little game, but I was more and more surprised to see how far she'd go to win it.

"I don't see it," I said.

"I did what you asked. I took it off. See?" She pried the opening wider to show me.

"Where is it, then?"

"Oh. It's - here." She put her purse on the table, opened it, then turned it toward me so I could see inside.

I tapped the table with my finger again, beside the panties. "Here - I'd like to see it."

She hesitated and looked down at her lap. She could play "coy" just as easily as she could the lascivious, neglected wife. It was exciting to see her fall into the role so easily. Still, I tried to concentrate, to stay in character. The part she played so well promised so much more.

She returned her purse to her side, carefully placed the bra on the table, and slid it slowly across to me with one finger.

I moved it closer, next to her surrendered panties, fingered the lace for a while, then looked back up at her open dress.

"Show me more," I suggested.

"More? Here? What if someone I know comes in and sees me? What if someone tells my husband?"

"Our little 'dates' have never bothered you before," I reminded her.

"You know what I mean. What if someone sees my dress open and my underwear out on the table? You've never asked for any of this before, not in public. How would I ever explain this to David?"

"Why do you do it, then? Why keep coming back for more if you're so afraid?"

"You know why. I've told you why." She looked away, pretending to be too embarrassed to answer. "Sometimes my husband, he, um, doesn't always fuck me the way I want it. Need it, I mean."

"And what way is that, Linda?"

She leaned closer, straining over the table toward me, answering in the loudest whisper she could manage without being overheard. "The way you make me crawl and beg for it! The way you tie me and ******* me before you let me cum! David's a decent man, not a monster like you. Letting a monster fuck me helps me live with a little of that same monster that's a part of me. But I can only live without it for so long before-" She stopped suddenly and turned her face away from me, staring vacantly out into the room while she continued. "-before I let you use me like you do. Before I get my fix and then go back to having my husband inside me again, the way it should be."

In our mutual competition of words and fantasy brought to life, she had outdone me. For an instant I could imagine being her dark, portentous, phantom lover, the one who shows her the meaning of, what was it she had said? "Off the scale". I wondered if she was still pretending, or whether possibly her game had taken her to a place she hadn't planned to go. The air was heavy with silence for a while. She wouldn't look at me.

I took a chance to lighten the mood, and I chuckled as I put my hands up in surrender. "You win - I don't think I can take any more!" I wasn't at all prepared for what might come next if I was wrong. I held my breath and waited to see who the woman sitting in front of me might become.

Suddenly, she was the Linda I knew again. It threw me, twisted me around, and sent a chill of nervous relief through me. I watched her sly smile return as she backed down into her seat.

"You mean you don't want to see this?" She was unfastening another button on the front of her dress. And another, and another, until it was open to her waist. I was stunned. Our booth was mostly hidden from sight, sandwiched in the corner of the room between the wall and a wide, decorative column. Maybe she and 'Stephan' had chosen it in advance back then for that very reason.

"Tell me, how much more do you want?" She waited for my answer while she pulled the front of her dress open, inch by inch. "You know I'm naked under this dress. Do you want me to take it off? I will. Right here. If you make me. If you order me to."

I peered around the column to make sure no one was close by. Both her breasts were completely exposed. She thrust them forward at me, daring me to tell her what to do next.

Once again, I was beaten. "Enough, Linda. I give up! I give up! You win!" I was grinning from ear to ear.

"Really?" she said, rolling her eyes with disappointment. "I'm surprised. That sounds like something my husband would say. Now, are you going to take me back and fuck me, or not?" She gathered the front of her dress together, still unbuttoned, and recovered her bra and panties from my side of the table, unable to hold back a proud grin.

Outside, the snow had become heavy and wet. An inch of white blanketed the sidewalks, and the quarter-sized flakes that landed on our faces and hair vanished in seconds as they melted. Most stores had closed, but we stopped now and then to window shop. I stood by patiently while Linda studied the mannequins in her favorite boutique window as if she was waiting for them to twirl and pose for her.

"Would you like to see me in that when we go out?" she asked.

It was fiery red, with nothing I could make out that would hold it in place over her breasts. I couldn't see how gravity wouldn't take its toll and allow the shimmering material to fall, with embarrassing consequences. It was a blazing streak of red, from bust to floor, with a long, open slit up the front. One of the mannequin's thighs was pushed forward through the slit. Her bare leg was exposed nearly to the hip in a pose that was both elegant and sexy.

"Would you wear that?" I asked, trying to picture her in it.

"Mmmmm - my husband would approve. He likes to show me off."

"And what if it shows you off too much? Wouldn't other men would be all over you?"

"Ahh, but you don't understand." She turned and circled her arms around me, locking her eyes on mine. "I think that's what he likes - watching me flirt, imagining what may come of it."

"And what do you like?" I asked.

"What do I like?" She put her hand between my legs and moved it slowly, up along my thigh to my cock. "I like a man who takes what he wants - girlfriends, fianc's, even wives."

She turned her face up into the snow to kiss me. We hadn't kissed like that in weeks. It became a long, deep, probing kiss that lasted for minutes. She pulled my hand inside her coat, then under the dress she had left unbuttoned. I grazed her nipple with the palm of my hand. It was already swollen and hard, and she moaned when I rolled it between my fingers. I explored everywhere I could, her breasts, down her smooth belly, and finally lower, to that soft, yielding flesh just above her pussy that I knew made her crazy.

Finally, she broke the kiss, shaken and breathless. "Oh God - we have to stop." When I began to take my hand from her coat, she pulled it back inside and held it tightly against her bare breast. She stared at me so seriously as she recovered. The snow was falling faster, wetting her hair and face, when I noticed a tear on her cheek.

"Don't - we're fine," I whispered.

She wiped the tear away suddenly and quickly, like some annoying pest had landed on her.

She looked up at me again, eyes full of hope, with a crooked smile that told me she tried her best to believe me. "How did I ever find someone like you?" she asked, sniffing back another tear.

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just held her there in the snow. I cursed myself for poisoning her trust in me to begin with, but clung to the hope that she'd be able to love me again like she did the day we were married.

Eventually, we both began to shiver in the soaking snow. It hit us both both at once, and we began to laugh. She hugged me tighter, and put her lips against my ear.

"Take me home and fuck me?"

Best Served Cold - Chapter 8, The Party, Best-Laid Plans

It was days later, and she hadn't given up trying to persuade to go with her. I watched as she undressed for bed, and she paused as she slid her panties off, knowing I might give in if she gave me her 'come fuck me' look.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea, Linda. Wouldn't it be awkward?"

Her office party was in two weeks, and spouses were invited. I knew some of the people she worked with, but not that well. She had told me a few of their best customers were invited, as appreciation for their continuing allegiance. Those customers included Michael and a few of his staff, along with groups of two or three other valued clients.

"I wouldn't know what to say to him. It's not that I'm jealous. I think I understand the relationship you two have pretty well. I trust you. But all those other people, the people you work with, your clients - you wouldn't want them to find out how he and I know each other. We might have a lot of explaining to do, and when our stories didn't agree, they'd be suspicious, maybe that you and he were having an affair. So many things could be at stake - your company's business, your job, and your reputation. Not to mention what our friends would think if the rumor spread. I can see a hundred ways it could go wrong, and very few that could go right."

I was curious to see how much longer she'd try to convince me. I was sure she knew my concerns were valid, but I could tell she wanted me there in spite of them. It had come up twice in the past two days, and if anything, she became more insistent that she wanted me there beside her.

"Don't you want to show me off in my new dress?"

A month before, the day after our evening walk home in the snow, I bought the red dress she had stopped to admire in the store window. I knew she'd want it for the holidays, so I had given it to her early in case the size wasn't right. She had gone back to exchange it for a size smaller. I was embarrassed by my mistake, but she assured me it was the way the dress fit, not my clueless search through her closet for the right size that had been the reason. She hadn't modelled it for me. She wanted to surprise me, to let me see her in it for the first time just before she wore it. It had been a long wait.

"I think that dress will show you off all by itself," I assured her. "Do you think Michael will be able to keep his hands off you?" I grinned, and she grinned back.

"If you don't go with me, you'll always wonder," she teased.

"Maybe I'd like that - wondering what he was doing with my sexy wife all night."

"You mean you'd like the story I tell you when I come home. You still fantasize about us, don't you?"

"I do. All the time. Do you?" I asked.

She knelt in front of me and pulled down my zipper, slowly. Her hand went inside, her fingers probing. "I do wonder sometimes...if maybe...he'd still want to fuck me." She ran one finger down my cock, from tip to balls, before zipping me up again. "Do you think maybe he would?" She looked back, smiling coyly over her shoulder as she walked away.

~*~

"Well, how do I look?"

I had forgotten all about the party until Linda reminded me the day before. She had put her hair up, except for a few spiraling tendrils that hung loosely and invitingly along each side of her face. She posed in the doorway of our bedroom with her knee bent forward and her thigh exposed, just like the mannequin in the window. The slit up the front was more daring than I remembered, and I wondered whether the dress was appropriate for any occasion even remotely related to her work. She wasn't only beautiful; in the screaming red sheath stretched over her alabaster skin, she was the definition of 'erotic' - or maybe even 'come fuck me'.

"My God. I thought it looked good in the window; you look delicious! I'm glad you were able to get the right size. It shows off every inch of you. Maybe I should be worried about Michael."

"I still wish you would change your mind, David. No one will know. Michael's very well behaved. He won't make a scene, if you don't."

"I know. I'd just feel out of place. And I'd be miserable all night trying to avoid any hint of our connection to him."

She pursed her lips in a quick pout. "I still wish you'd be there with me. I like to show you off too, you know."

"Speaking of 'showing off', what are you wearing under that? It couldn't be much."

She raised the top of the slit a few inches to show me the bright red panties. The color was an exact match. "You like? I picked them up when I returned the other dress. It's like they were made to go together. See? They're so thin there's not even a panty line."

"And," I mused with a grin, "they're nearly transparent." I looked closer. "Did you shave down there?"

"Only a slight trim. They're just so tiny; I was afraid someone might get a glimpse between my legs when I sit. I'm nice and neat now."

"In case someone sees your pussy," I joked.

"You have such a dirty mind. No one is going to be looking at my pussy tonight. And even if they catch a quick look, seeing it in red is better than seeing it with no panties at all, isn't it?"

"I - think that might be a trick question."

"I'll leave them off, if you want; maybe give Michael a good long look to refresh his memory?" She peeled them halfway down her thighs and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for me to answer.

"Maybe I'd like to hear about that when you get home," I said, grinning.

"Better be careful what you wish for, Fantasy Boy. You just might get it.

"I'm sure he'll love the dress. Who wouldn't? But I'd rather have him see the panties than what's under them. Unless, you want to show him your neat little 'trim'..."

Her grin faded, and she squinted at me.

"Sometimes I think you're serious about Michael and me actually doing it. Are you?"

I thought for a few seconds before answering. Did I want to confess how I really felt? Would I regret it, or be unburdened by it?

"From what you've told me about him, he's decent guy, not the 'Stephan' I met at the Excelsior last year. It means something that he's been a good friend to you for so long. I give him credit for that, and for not taking advantage of you that night.

"I don't know; I suppose I'm 'less uncomfortable' with the idea now. I don't think I could watch, but you know it's a fantasy of mine, and I know it would make you happy. I do think about it though, probably more than you know. I can't unsee all the things you've told me about the two of you back in school - about you blowing and fucking him back then, and how you're attracted to him, even now. And to be honest, sometimes I imagine him fucking you when we fuck, and I wonder whether the sounds you make and the things you do with me are the same as they were with him. I even wonder if sometimes you might imagine I'm him in bed while we're fucking - and that always gets me off..."

Linda was motionless, staring with disbelief. "I guess I don't understand what all that means, David," she said quietly. "He's a friend; one who cares about me. And I know he cares about our marriage. We fucked for two years in school, not that often, mostly only when I wanted to. He helped me with papers and homework; he drove me places when I needed to run errands off campus; he took care of me when I got sick, and took me out to eat on my birthday. I never knew why. I was a little fish in an ocean of gorgeous girls. He always had a girlfriend; I was always an afterthought, one he treated like a sister - well, most of the time."

She paused after pleading her innocence, then thought better of trying to further exaggerate it.

"Yes, David, if you want the truth, I do still think about what it would be like to have sex with him. But to discover you consider it that seriously, after all we've been through with him - I had no idea, even knowing your little fantasies. I'm stunned."

We were at a standoff, with so much left up in the air.

She crossed the room to where I sat, hiked the dress up over her thighs, and knelt in front of me. "I don't want you to worry, David. I don't love him - I never did. I am attracted to him - he's a sexy man. But it was a college crush back then, and a little sex along with it. It happened over ten years ago. We've only seen each other again for the past two, and only when work requires it, other than the act we put on for you. I do enjoy teasing you about him though. But seriously, you really do think about me having sex with him? That you might be okay with it someday?"

"Where did he touch you that night, in the hotel room? You said you wanted him to touch you," I told her, lost in thoughts of the red dress, rumpled and abandoned on the floor beside the bed where they might fuck.

"He touched my neck, my shoulders, and my breasts, David."

I could hear relief in her voice, and a hint of arousal.

"And you were naked?"

"I told you all this before. I had to take my dress off to put my bra back on."

"But you left your dress off. You wanted him to look at you first."

"Yes, David. It was so like my fantasy. He was dressed, and I was naked. I was powerless and he in charge. But it wasn't about submitting to him when we were back in school; those feelings came later, when I met Jordan.

"He watched me get dressed. There wasn't much to put on, just my bra and panties, and the dress I bought for that night."

"You bought the dress for that night? I'd never seen it before."

"I bought it when Michael and I started to rehearse. He gave me ideas of what to buy, and I kept it in the trunk of my car. He told me it should be something you'd believe I would wear, something everyday and innocent. Nothing slutty. It had to have buttons down the front, or something easy to unfasten. He thought the black lace underwear would get to you, that you'd think I'd have planned to wear it under the dress for him, later, in his hotel room. It was funny in a way - after Michael and I rehearsed the first time, I had to take that dress back too for a smaller size. He didn't think the first one was tight enough. It didn't open far enough to show my breasts I unbuttoned it."

"You grabbed his cock before you left."

"We were hugging, and I could feel his erection against me, and I just put my hand there. I didn't plan it. I didn't touch it. I held it through his pants. I didn't even move my hand."

"And did he like that? Did he want you to do more?"

"I don't know, David. He didn't say anything. He was very hard."

"And big?"

"Big enough. It was through his pants, David."

"But you know, don't you? How big he is. From 'all the things you used to do with it', back in college."

"The one thing I won't do is compare his cock to yours. Any difference doesn't matter. It's a physical thing with him, and love with you. Remember our talk about kinds of men? And kinds of orgasms? Did I mention cocks? No - because it's the kind of man attached to it that gets me off, not the equipment he uses to do it."

"So you won't even give me a hint?"

"Nope. You'll have to use your fantasies for that. But I can guess what you'll imagine; how I must have loved his 'massively thick, ten-inch cock when he stuck it in me'."

"I, um, don't think about it being quite that big. Just, 'big'. Something you can't bring yourself to let go of through his pants. Something you'd want again if he fucked you with it."

She smiled and shook her head slowly. "It's time for me to go, David. I have to be there early to help with the food and arrange tables and chairs in our conference room. We've hired an amazing caterer. You haven't had dinner. Are you sure you won't come?"

"I'll be fine. There's a pizza in the freezer and beer in the fridge. I'll watch the game tonight and get a little *****. It'll be fun. Maybe not as much fun as you'll have tonight, but I can wait till tomorrow to hear about that."

"Well, I'm sure I won't have as much to tell you as you imagine. But fantasize away. Just don't jerk off while I'm gone; leave that thing alone. I want to fuck you the second I get in the door. Fantasize about that."

I hadn't seen the bright red heels she was wearing when she left. Maybe she was afraid to show me the price tag. But I didn't care about the price; it was Christmas. She could have anything she wanted.

Best Served Cold - Chapter 9, The Call

I suppose I should have been more anxious about Linda's party, but by then I had been inoculated against much worse horrors than her admitted attraction to Michael. I did find her relationship with him laced with eroticism, and their long friendship and Linda's evidence of his honorable character were a calming influence on the stories I wove about them in my head.

I made a pizza, drank some beer, and watched TV to pass the time. I wasn't tempted to 'jerk off', as Linda had feared, but I did think about her with Michael. I was preoccupied with how he'd like her new dress and whether he may get a peek at her red, see-through panties.

After a shower, I wandered into our shared bedroom closet to find my robe. On my way out, I noticed a streak of flowered material sandwiched between Linda's summer dresses and tops. I pried it from between the rest and recognized it as the dress she had worn for 'Stephan', and then for me when we role played at the Excelsior bar a month ago. I took it to the bathroom, hung it on the shower door, and stared. There was nothing extraordinary about it. It looked like new. For all I knew she may have only worn it twice in public.

I felt a bit silly playing with the buttons, but I couldn't help undoing them, one by one, then pulling the top of the dress open as wide as it would allow. I remembered her breasts surrounded and cinched by the fabric, pushed upward and outward across the table toward me. It was odd in a way; it was the first time I had touched it, after all we had been through. I thought about how Michael would have buttoned and unbuttoned it when they rehearsed, and how he was hard for her while playing his part. I passed my hand under the bottom hem, then inside, following the tapering waves of soft cotton upward to the waist. This was where his hand found her bare thigh, then crept slowly along it to her wet center that begged him for relief. I could imagine the tension between them as they played their parts, over and over, so desperate and hungry for each other, yet too cautious to surrender to yet another infidelity.

My cell rang, and I went to the bedroom to answer it. It was an old college friend who always called around the holidays, just to catch up. I went back to the den where I was watching TV, and we talked for an hour. After he called, I was looking for a late night movie when a text alert sounded. It was 11:00, and I thought Linda might have needed a ride home if she had been d r i n k i n g.


[Linda] Party ran late. You ok?

[Me] Fine. You coming home?

[Linda] Still want your fantasy?

[Me] ???

[Linda] Michael wants to play. ok?

[Me] Play what?

[Linda] With me. ok?

[Me] dunno. for real?

[Linda] For real

[Me] dunno

[Linda] Please? NO fucking

[Me] You tipsy?

[Linda] No ***** here - a dry party

[Me] dunno

[Linda] Tell you about it later...all of it!

[Me] when?

[Linda] Maybe an hour. NO fucking. I promise.

[Me] where?

[Linda] Secret - just 1 hour?

[Me] is it safe?

[Linda] Very

[Me] where?

[Linda] Told you - secret.

[Me] is michael with you?

[Linda] Yes - right now.

[Me] sigh - well ok - 1 hour then home. Behave.

[Linda] You really want me to?

[Me] maybe...not...

[Linda] Love you - bye!


I stared at the phone in disbelief. Was it one of her games? Or had I said enough before she left to assure her I'd be okay with it?

She was home by 12:30, looking just as delicious as when she left. She was carrying the red shoes, now barefoot in the red dress, her hair a tangle of wild curls. She kissed me on the cheek, thanked me, and headed for the bedroom to change. I followed her to watch.

The dress was laid out on the bed, unwrinkled and blazing with color. She turned to me and smiled, standing by the bed in nothing but the red panties. I hadn't seen her in the just the panties before. I could hardly breathe.

"Do you like them?" she asked. She turned her ass toward me, looked over her shoulder, and grinned.

"The question is, did Michael?" I asked.

"Of course not! At least, not like this. I promised we wouldn't fuck. Oh, come on, let's go to bed. I'll tell you everything."

She seemed so full of energy, like a kid on Christmas morning, flitting from room to room, turning off lights and the TV. When she returned to the bedroom, she hopped on the bed in her red panties and patted a spot beside her. She was radiant, glowing, and visibly excited.

"Come here, Fantasy Boy. I have things to tell you." She lay on her side and raised one bent knee up, teasing me with the sight of the nearly transparent panties, glued to her slit like wet tissue. I climbed on the bed, moved alongside her, and ran my fingers through her hair.

"Michael wanted me to let it down after the party. He thought it was sexy. I guess it looks kind of wild though, doesn't it? No one saw it, well, except you and Michael."

I touched her shoulder, then traced a path to her breasts. They were warm and flawless.

"Did he touch you like this?" I asked, repainting the picture of them together in my head.

"He did, David. I love his hands on me - you know that. Can you imagine him doing it?"

"Yes, I can. I am."

I moved down to her belly, and she gasped.

"Keep going David, please?"

The panties were so delicate I was afraid they'd disintegrate when I slid my hand inside. There was no elastic, nothing more than a band of lace that came away from her skin the instant I touched it. Farther down, she was soaked. Two fingers slipped inside her with no resistance. I had never seen her that open and wet before we fucked.

"Did he COME in you?" I'm sure I let my concern show in my voice.

"God, NO, David, I TOLD you we didn't fuck. He played with me for an hour, with his hands, and his fingers. I couldn't even concentrate on his cock. I just gave up trying. I came twice; I didn't need him to fuck me."

She lay on her back, panting, while I stroked her belly with one hand and dipped my fingers into the liquid pool of juices between her legs with the other. Finally, she took my hand and stopped me. "I'm too sensitive for more of that now. I just want you inside me. Please David, will you do that? Now? Please?"

"Will you pretend I'm him? While I'm fucking you?" I asked, tentatively.

"No, David, I promise, I won't."

"No - I'm asking you to do it, Linda. I want to see you pretend it's him. It's my fantasy. Right now, my only one. Will you do it, for me?"

She studied me for a few seconds, trying to make sure she understood. Then I saw a hint of a smile again when she finally recognized how genuine my fantasy was.

She unleashed her answer in a single, uninterrupted stream of urgent desperation. "I will, David, I'll pretend it was hours ago, and I'll pretend he's on top of me, inside me, and I'll let him come in me, and he'll make me come too, and we'll get dressed and I'll come home to you and tell you all of it... Just PLEASE, FUCK me!"

I lowered the panties slowly, in by inch, down along her legs. She shivered with impatience. Her eyes were closed, and she spread her legs and touched herself. Her hips rose off the bed and she put her hand between her legs, parting two fingers to cradle the engorged cord of flesh between them, offering up her clit to me as a tantalizing finish to her story.

Her body's response was how I imagined her with another lover; her belly was sunken and flat, quivering with contractions and spasms, and her eyes were closed as she imagined her lover's promise to fill her. If only I could have read her mind. I was struck suddenly by her uncommon beauty there beside me. Her naked body seemed to offer itself up to me. Thick swirls of wild, tangled hair fell across her face in places, hiding an eye, a cheek, and a portion of her wide mouth.

Then she opened her eyes and pleaded with me, gasping and thrusting her hips in the air against her fingers. "Aren't you - going to fuck me, David? Don't - t o r t u r e me, please! Please, David - I want you - here - inside me!"

I fell into her, sinking past her swollen, drenched labia, marveling at the liquid depth between her straining thighs. She clutched me suddenly, pulling me down onto her breasts and belly, chanting in even whispers, close to my ear. "Fuck me - fuck me - fuck me - fuck me - " It went on and on, the rhythm and volume never changing. Her eyes were closed again, and I tried to guess who she imagined was there between her legs. She let out a sudden, short cry at first when she came. Then, in the brief seconds of silence between gasps and moans, in a small, fragile voice, I heard her whisper, "Michael - Michael - Michael...".

Best Served Cold - Chapter 10, Party Confessions

The following night, Linda was stretched out on the sofa, tapping away at her phone. In my head, I could see her and Michael making out in some secret location, his hand under the red dress, fingers deep in her pussy as they kissed. Then it was Linda on her knees sucking him, greedily taking his semen in her mouth and down her throat as she had with her past lover, Jordan.

I sat across the room and stared. She wore another of my presents, a silky pajama set with roomy shorts and a brief vest that fastened at the front with a single loop and button. It was forest green, her favorite color, and she had loved it the minute she opened it. As she stretched and changed positions, the button came undone, exposing her nipples and much of the ivory domes of firm flesh beneath them. I couldn't help imagining Michael's hands on them. She gathered the sides together and buttoned it again, but not before she caught me looking.

"You're ogling me again. Do you want to have sex?"

When I didn't answer right away, she looked over at me and said, "You're thinking about me and Michael again, aren't you? While you're watching me?"

I confessed I was.

"You know, I found the dress I wore at the bar hanging in the bathroom last night. Did you put it there?" she asked.

Fuck, I had forgotten to return it to the closet before she found it.

"I, ah, guess I'm busted," I confessed. "I had never even touched it - only you and Michael had. You were at the party with him, and I needed to know what it might have been like for you when he put his hands on you that night. When I put my hand up under it, I thought about what it must have been like to be him when he touched you and fingered you. I knew it was a ridiculous thing to do, but I was obsessed with memories of you wearing it, of how you unbuttoned it the second he ordered you to do it. Then, as I stared at your dress, there was this overpowering need to know - if he was doing all of it to you again at the party."

"So, you were that worried?" she asked.

"No, I can't explain why, but honestly, I was that excited. But it does worry me too at times, when I'm not in the middle of a fantasy. Part of your attraction to him reminds me of what I did to you, and that it might be some kind of ongoing, cosmic payback. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever be able to trust me again, and what I can possibly do to repair that."

Linda stared at me thoughtfully for a while before she answered. "I had no idea you were this concerned, David. I hope you don't think my attraction to Michael is some kind of revenge. It began long before I met you. I'm being as open and honest about it as I can possibly be. Maybe your fling with Joanna brought you and Michael together, face to face, but that's in the past. I've forgiven you. I want us to be happy together. If you don't want me to see him again, or even mention my past with him, I'll do that for you. Just tell me."

It was the last thing I expected to hear, especially with such genuine conviction. But I knew the fantasy would always haunt me, even if it went unspoken. Repressing it would likely make it an obsession that would grow into frustration and regret, and I'd much rather know Linda's sexual needs and fantasies than constantly wonder what they might be. Knowing each other's fantasies in uncensored detail and accepting them as part of who we are would be the only way we'd finally escape the past and avoid reliving it.

"I can't ask you to do that," I assured her. "I don't even want you to. Now that we've come this far, we can't start hiding things from each other. My fantasies of you and Michael are too consuming to abandon, and I have to trust you if I expect you to ever trust me again. While I was in the fantasy, running my hands over the dress you wore with him was as though I was there as you and he rehearsed, like I was almost a part of your plan to teach me a lesson that night. Except, instead of only rehearsing, I pictured his hands on you, and yours on him, and then you cumming, collapsing into his arms as he fingered you, and maybe even as he fucked you."

"Well, sorry, but it wasn't at all like that, David. It could have been. We were so close to giving in to it, to go beyond where Michael's script led us. But I guess I was more hurt than angry, and I desperately hoped there was still a way to fix us. Michael deserves a lot of credit for that too - I know he wanted me. It must have been painful for him - he was so hard the entire time we practiced our little plan. All I could think of much of the time was reaching over and taking his erection in my hand, even if it was just for a few seconds. I suppose it's why I couldn't resist doing it later that night in his hotel room."

"But you did take it in your hand, last night, didn't you?" I prompted her.

I saw her confusion change immediately to a warm smile. "OK - what do you want to know about last night? But take off your pants first. I want to see you get hard. And come over here - I want to play with you while we talk."

I took off everything and lay beside her on the sofa. She giggled, and ran her fingers over my chest, then down, lower. "I've always loved watching you get hard," she said quietly, as though someone might be close by and hear her. "I've seen men with erections before, but I rarely get to see it grow like this. It's rather fascinating, seeing something so helpless looking grow into something so long and stiff it can reach all the way up inside me. Reeealy, raaather, faaascinating..." I watched her pretend to inspect it carefully, pulling and bending it to look from every angle. She grinned at me. "Did you know your cock is fascinating?"

Her grin became a satisfied smile as she began to milk it slowly from base to tip, watching it grow. "Now, what was it you wanted to know...?"

"Sooo, I guess you kissed him?" I asked.

"Mmmm, a lot..."

"And he put his hand up under your pretty, red dress?"

"Ummm, no, not at first."

She went quiet for a minute, teasing me with the vague answer.

I unbuttoned her top and ran my palm lightly over her breast, circling my thumb over her nipple. "So, then he must have done something like this..."

She turned on her side and put her arm across my chest, moving closer, inches from my face. She delivered the words so slowly, drawing them out, waiting for my response between each phrase.

"He...pulled my top down...and...licked...my neck, and then...my breasts and nipples. I just...let him...play with me. I wanted evvvery bit of him. His attention...his mouth... his tongue...and yes...," she told me, staring into my eyes with passion, "his...cock."

Running all of it through my head, digesting it, and making it come to life took time, and we were quiet for a minute before either of us spoke again. She was raking her long fingernails up and down over my erection, spending extra time on the glans where the sensation was almost unbearable.

"So, you did want him to fuck you," I said, finally.

"Of course, David. Before he was done, I wanted it all. But I promised you. So we didn't."

"And, when he had his hands under your dress?"

"It was easy for him. When we were finally alone, he wanted me to take my panties off, so I did. He pulled up my dress and fingered me for so, fucking, long before he ate me. I came in his mouth, and he drank, like he was parched and I was an oasis in the desert. It was...just, so, wonderful."

"I can tell - you're smiling like it happened five minutes ago," I told her, grinning. But it was more than that. She was glowing. Her entire body was alive with her story. I could read every detail on her skin, in her eyes, and the way the words escaped from between her lips with such delicious heat and passion.

"Funny, it seems like less than a day has passed," she mused. "It's almost like the past has sneaked up on me - the time between when I knew him in school and the present seems compressed, like it's been a month instead of ten years. He's changed so little. He could have had anyone, but he wanted me. Now, here he is again."

"And when it was your turn?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I didn't spend as much time on him. I wanted to. I played with his cock, used my hands on him, well, you know, like I do with you. I know it's been a long time, but it all came flooding back - the time I spent with him in school, how hard he'd get for me when I'd undress in front of him, and the way he'd always fuck me when I'd come begging for it.

"Eventually, I took him in my mouth. Even the taste was the same, and I swallowed every last drop he had to give me. He didn't last long. It was so sweet - he took my face in his hands so gently afterwards. He told me how sex with me was so special back in college because he could tell how much it meant to me, and that I was always so hungry for him. Of course, he had to add that I was the best freshman piece of ass he had ever had. I laughed, but he stopped me, and he said he meant every word."

"I'm sure he was right, on all counts," I told her. "You know, I'm not sure why, but hearing you tell me about it the way you do...well, I probably should be, but I'm not worried or jealous - maybe a bit envious, that it's all so new and exciting for you..."

"Really David, you have no reason to be. Honestly. I want you for a husband, not him. I couldn't ask to be married to a more a compassionate and understanding man."

"But sex with him makes you happy, doesn't it?" I suggested.

"Just the sex, but yes, it always has. I like him, and I'd really love to fuck him, but that's where it ends."

"So, I suppose I could look the other way now and then. You'd have to find times and places where you could be discreet; no one can know about this. And, I want you to tell me afterwards, every time. It would have to be just sex - nothing like an affair. I guess I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but the thought of it excites me - my irresistibly fuckable wife having secret sex with an old college lover..."

"It's been a fantasy of yours since that night, hasn't it?" she asked. "A handsome, confident man, meeting me, seducing me, fucking me into total oblivion, and then sending me back to you to confess all of it? I don't completely understand it, but something happened that night. You really want this, don't you?"

"I do. But I never thought any of it would come true. Did you?"

"Not really, David. But honestly, I'd always fantasized, maybe even dared to hope, that Michael might be more than just a client again someday. Fucking both of you without putting our marriage in danger was always as unlikely as winning the lottery twice in row. Now, I think what you're suggesting may be even better."

What a superb piece of writing Don. It must have taken you hours. These later chapters have had me absolutely enthralled, more so even than the first part. Well done my friend, well done.
Peter C

That means a lot to me , Peter. Hours? More like weeks. Work often intervenes. I have a few more chapters, but they need a bit of polishing before I post. I'll try to go back and fill in the censored words using spacing, hoping that doesn't get me banned.

Don

Best Served Cold - Chapter 11, Confessions of a 'Slut-wife'

The holidays arrived and departed as they always have, with last minute shopping, wrapping presents, and the obligatory visits with family and friends. We didn't talk at all about Michael, but he was still on my mind nearly every day. We planned a small New Year's Eve party at our place with fifteen or twenty guests. "Are you going to invite him?" I had asked. "I'd like to meet him if you want me to, but with our friends here, I'm not sure how it would go."

"I know what you'd like," she had said, grinning. "We'll have him over some other time, when the three of us can talk." There was something in her voice that suggested she had already planned it, and had expectations she hadn't shared. There was something in her eyes as well; it was always her eyes that gave her away when she spoke of Michael.

January turned bitterly cold, with more and more snow and all the inconveniences that came with it. Linda and I both returned to work, grateful for the relief from the holiday madness, but a bit sad it was over. It was our favorite time of the year; we loved putting up the tree, and hated taking it down. On the street below, the strings of lights and blinking decorations were gone and the city had returned to browns and grays.

"I saw Michael today."

I watched her there across from me, propped up near the end of the sofa with her legs stretched out in front of her. She raised one knee as she spoke, bunching her nightshirt up around her waist, showing me a mouth-watering expanse of bare leg from hip to toe. I could see between her legs where the familiar red panties barely covered her. I knew it wasn't a coincidence that the red panties suddenly appeared along with the mention of his name.

"At work?" I asked, still staring between her legs.

"No, not really." She didn't look up from her tablet.

"Let me guess, then. Your 'secret place'?" My heart was pounding.

"Ummm, no, not there. And it wasn't that 'secret' - just a vacant office at work. I couldn't help teasing you a little."

"Was it a place I'd know? Did you go to lunch, or maybe have a d r i n k with him after work?" I guessed.

"You're getting warmer," she said, trying to hold back a smile, still punching and swiping across the surface of her new iPad.

I went to the sofa and sat on the edge beside her. She was fiddling with her tablet, scrolling through collections of our friends' holiday photos. The red panties had to be a sign; she hadn't worn them since the night of her office party.

"Did - you shave down there?" I asked, suddenly convinced she had. The panties weren't able to hide what she had done. I could see the smooth, plump rise of her labia pressed snugly against the moist slit between them, almost as if she wore nothing at all.

Now she couldn't contain her smile, but still didn't look up. "Do you like it?"

"Uh, I - I mean - yeah, sure. But you never shave there. You don't like the maintenance or the itchy stubble when it grows back."

"Maybe I won't grow it back. Would you like that? If I stayed completely bare while you perv around the house watching me?"

"Did you do this for him?" I asked, worried she might be diving in over her head.

She looked up suddenly, as though she instantly recognized how her surprise might be misunderstood. "Oh, David - no, of course not. I know how you like spying on me when I'm naked. I love hearing you tell me. But actually, I suppose I did it for both of you."

"So, you've been seeing him then?" I asked, cautiously.

She put down her tablet and gave me an apologetic look. "You said it was okay, that you could look the other way occasionally. Did you change your mind?"

"Well, no. But I wanted you to let me know. That was our agreement."

"I am letting you know. Now."

"Then, when was it?" I asked, nervously. It had excited me at first, but now I worried her overly buoyant mood since the time of our agreement might be a sign of trouble.

"Today. Just today. Only one time." She began to smile again. "You're getting hard, aren't you?"

How could she always do that so easily, so predictably? There was this uncanny synergy of the sight of her willing body and her teasing, seductive smile that always reeled me in, and she was exquisitely adept at adding the words she knew would command my cock to rise for her when she wanted it.

"I want to see you," I told her, too distracted to answer her question. I adjusted her nightshirt and pulled the panties down along her legs and over her bare feet. She let the leg nearest me fall off the sofa, flaunting her bare sex, knowing it would make me harder. I held the wisp of red lace in my hands, drawing the waist taut with two fingers to match the width of her hips. The panties felt as if they might float away in the air if I let them go. "You wore them for him when you were with him? Today?"

"I want you inside me while I tell you. Can we do it here, on the sofa?" Her eyes locked on mine so seriously, yet there was an unmistakable certainty that she knew I'd want what she promised. She was visibly wet, naked under the shirt, spreading her legs and inviting me in.

When I undressed and began to climb between her legs, she stopped me. "No - I want to be on top. I don't want you to be able to escape once I start," she teased.

"Why would I try to escape?" I asked, still a bit too ambivalent to fully accept her playfulness the way she intended it.

She narrowed her eyes, wearing her best evil grin. "Maybe it'll be too much for you."

Linda lowered herself slowly onto my cock, squirming a little to get comfortable. And she began her story.

"We've been planning it for a week. I told Michael you agreed to 'look the other way' if we decided to fuck. We had a long talk first. He didn't want to complicate our past by agreeing to fuck me if he wasn't sure you were okay with it - well, more than okay. I told him how hard you were when we pretended you were him fucking me after the party, and he was anxious to make our first 'date'."

"A date? I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"His word, not mine. Maybe this will be too much for you. Hmmm? Maybe I should stop..."

"Wait! What? No - tell me!" She just couldn't resist teasing, right up to the last minute.

"Michael picked me up at lunch today, just a few blocks from the office. Don't worry - no one saw us. But even if they had, he and I do go to lunch together now and then just to talk shop. Still, it was exciting, imagining everyone knew I was slipping away to fuck a man who isn't my husband. I would never want the people I work with to know, but while I sat waiting for him at a little outdoor cafe, I began to fantasize that a few of the men there knew, and that they'd want a turn with me after Michael had me. I imagined their cocks were all huge and hard for me, the 'innocent and faithful wife' who was unable to hide that she was on her way to be fucked by her lover.

"Then, in the middle of my fantasy, this guy appeared out of nowhere and asked if he could join me. He was so young, in his early twenties I guessed, a little scruffy, but so confident in the way he approached me with his boyish good looks. His crotch was at eye level, and I couldn't take my eyes off his faded jeans as he stood there beside me; that cute little butt and very nice bulge where I imagined his dick waited impatiently for me just looked so delicious. I told him I was waiting for my husband, but instead of folding and slinking away, he just smiled, and told me, 'Maybe some other time, then?'. If I hadn't been waiting for Michael, I'm not completely sure I wouldn't have gone with him to discover what was inside those faded jeans. I can still see the outline of his surprisingly large cock, right there in front of me, eagerly prepared to fuck me. But, I'm sure it was just my impatience to fuck Michael that made me even consider it. At least that's what I told myself as I watched his cute little butt walk away from me."

She was rising and falling on my cock so slowly, timing her movements to match the words she used to draw me in to her story. She had taken me deeply inside her, and then stopped, impaled to the hilt as she closed her eyes, wearing a faint, satisfied smile. Her contractions were those of a small but powerful fist inside her belly, clamping, releasing, and then tightening again, over and over, as she relived her encounter with her scruffy admirer. At first I had thought he was merely an exaggerated embellishment to her story, but now I wasn't so sure.

"Would you have fucked him?" I asked, quietly. "I mean, if it was a normal work day and you had stopped for lunch there? You've never told me anything like this before."

She opened her eyes and stared down at me with a look that penetrated any and all doubts I had about her sincerity. I knew how adept she was at leading me through a labyrinth of erotic surprises and trapdoors. Admittedly, I always followed her willingly, so eager to see her as a woman open to ever more perversity; yet post-orgasm rationality always intruded to remind me of the potential repercussions and regrets.

"You must know I look at other men, David - that I wonder what some of them might be like in bed. Does it seem so impossible that I might be seduced by at least one of them, far beyond my best attempt to refuse them?"

"So, you might fuck him? If you happen to meet him 'some other time'? Would you tell me?"

"I'm not that easy, David. But what if I had gone with him? What if that guy at the cafe took me somewhere and fucked me, even if it was only for a few minutes, for as long as it took for both of us to come? We'd never see each other again after a single, momentary lapse of judgement; it would be my little secret I'd remember on a day when I'm feeling less than attractive and need to know men other than my husband might find me desirable."

I moved both hands to her breasts, pushing them gently upward and together, just as they had looked when bound by the unbuttoned opening at the front of her flowered dress. When her smile widened, I was sure she could read my mind. "Do you have many of these little secrets?" I asked, stunned and excited by her confession.

"Enough to keep you begging for more, David. But you only get one at a time, and only when I want to see you sweat a little while I get you hard." On the last word she clenched my cock as tightly as she could, holding it, watching me with amusement as I tried to delay spewing every drop I had into her tense, clutching belly.

"But maybe now you'd rather hear about Michael and me..." she teased, afraid I wouldn't last until she fed me the rest of her story.

"He owns a rental house, just outside the city. The last tenants had just moved out, so we had the entire house to ourselves. We talked for a while. He wanted to know all about you, especially about your decision to share me with him. I explained that I had filled you in on my history with him, and that it was a subject you and I have danced around and played with for a while now. He seemed satisfied with that.

"He told me about a couple he met when he worked as an actor in New York, a husband and wife who shared the fantasy of another man fucking her. They approached him one night after his show, and the husband watched his wife flirt with Michael outside the theater. He fucked the wife while her husband watched, for over a year before moving back. He said he often thought about fucking me when we'd see each other now and then, and he knew it had worked for the couple in New York, but he doubted you'd ever be open to considering it.

"Anyway, we talked about old times, some of the strange and funny people we knew on campus, and yes, a little about having sex together back then. I asked him, why me? When he could have had any girl on campus? He told me it wasn't just one thing. He thought my body was perfect, and so was the way I fucked, like I was so hungry for it that nothing else mattered. I was shocked. I never knew he saw me that way. When I told him I assumed I was just an afterthought, he confessed to how many times he masturbated thinking of me knocking on his door, so starved for sex. He never told me any of that back then. I was just happy and always a little surprised that a guy like Michael wanted to fuck me.

"He asked me to strip for him. It was lunch time, and I was in my work clothes, but I think he liked that - watching me lay my jacket and blouse on the floor, seeing me peel my slacks off, then unfasten my bra and model my red panties for him. It was the first time he had seen me in just the panties; the night of the party I never took my dress off, and besides, I wanted you to see me in them first. He told me to leave my heels on and turn and pose for him. I was glad I had shaved myself that morning. I wanted to surprise him, just like I did you. And, I wanted to show him I had offered up a small sacrifice to him, one my husband didn't yet know about. When I told him you hadn't seen me shaved yet, he called me a 'little slut'. I liked it, David. No, I fucking loved hearing him say it."

"Is that how you saw yourself," I asked. "A little slut who was cheating on her husband? Did being that 'little slut' mean as much to you as finally being able to fuck him?"

"I only know it excited me, David. I've been the 'good girl' for so long, since after the time Jordan made me his slave, and for years before that. There is a difference, you know, between giving myself to a man and submitting to him in my fantasies. The way Michael spoke to me blurred those differences, as if he knew all about my fantasies and laid them bare in front of me. He said that if I hadn't shaved myself, he was going to ask me to do it, so he could 'see my pussy swell and drip' for him. He told me from now on he wants to see all of me, and that I wouldn't be completely naked for him unless I was shaved. He was so insistent, almost demanding in the way he said it, that it brought back memories of Jordan's demands just before he tied me and fucked me. I was mortified that it made me so wet, instantly, that I might have to explain why if he asked. But he just looked between my legs and smiled like he understood.

"I know I don't have the body I had in college, but he kept telling me how beautiful I was. The longer he talked, the more I wanted him see all of me. I turned and posed for him when he asked. I played with my breasts and spread my legs for him. He told me to play with myself, and I put my hand in my panties and did it, shamelessly, right there in front of him. When he finally reached out and lifted my breasts with his hands, it was as though nothing else existed outside of that room."

She paused, securely impaled on me, and took a few deep breaths. I could feel her juices begin to soak me, the unexpected coolness of the liquid as it flowed over my pubic hair and coated the root of my cock. I could see reliving her time with him had stopped her story as though she was there, and that her confessions of the afternoon might cause her to become lost in wanton sensations she couldn't express in words.

"Jesus, I wish I could have been there," I told her, needing a few deep breaths myself. "The thought of you stripping for him during your lunch hour, the clothes everyone sees you wear at the office in a pile at your feet; I doubt anyone but me would ever picture you there like that. I guess you were late getting back to work."

"He wanted me to call in sick the rest of the afternoon, so I did," she went on, finally. "After that, I just went to him, unzipped him, and sucked him. It was so like it used to be. He was thick and hard and the taste of him was so familiar. My hands were on him everywhere - his thighs, his ass, and his hard, flat stomach. He tried to stop me when he was close to cumming, but I wouldn't - I couldn't. He kept trying to back away from me, but I closed my mouth around him and pulled him close. It was as though it was Jordan's cock, and I'd be punished if I didn't d r i n k everything he had to give me. When he came, I swallowed and swallowed, but a little of it leaked out of the corners of my mouth. I don't think he was even aware of it - he just closed his eyes, put his head back, and gave me all of it in a few surging gushes. There was so much semen, just as I remembered with Jordan. Still, this time no one scolded me or punished me for what I spilled. I was happy that I had pleased him, and that I had shown him how hungry I was for him, just like he said he remembered in college.

"We got naked and lay on the carpet together for a while after that. He couldn't keep his hands off my body. I loved how he had time for me after I finished him - how he stroked my neck and ran his fingers over me. I had forgotten how preoccupied he was with simply touching and stroking me all over back then.

"We had waited so long, so many years, and were so desperate for each other. There wasn't any foreplay - after he had time to recover, we just fucked. But it didn't take me back to how I remembered it in college like I expected. I wasn't his 'afterthought' anymore. I thought of you, when you surprised me by telling me that you could 'look the other way'. I imagined you there, watching, smiling with approval, telling me I could have his cock, and that I should enjoy every second of it. I came while I was thinking all that about you. It was so intense, yet so warm and satisfying.

"He watched me like you do when we dressed to leave. He kissed me, asked if I was okay, and when we could do it again. I reminded him you had said 'now and then', and I told him that it had to be just sex and nothing more, but that when he wanted me again, I'd be willing. He looked relieved in a way - maybe that we'd be able to fuck again, but also maybe that the obsession I had for him back then was much different than how I think of him now. I made it clear that I'm obsessed with his body and his cock, but that I get amazing 'husband cock', and everything else I need, from you."

I had my hands on her hips, slowly rubbing my thumbs along the crease between her legs and her silken belly. My fingers wondered onto the yielding pillow of flesh just above where she had taken me inside her, sliding once over her slippery, engorged nub, then slightly higher, tracing even lines over the smooth, sensitive skin there.

She inhaled sharply, hissing, letting her head fall back. "You know what that does to me - you know I can't take it - God, you're KILLING me!"

My hands became careful spiders - deliberate, searching, crawling fingerlings, inching step by step up over her flat belly. She shuddered and hissed again. "Oh FUCK, David! FUCK! FUCK!" She fell back, stretching her arms behind her until she caught herself, arching her back and whimpering. I pulled at her nipples, milking and stretching them just enough to make her gasp.

She leaned forward again, rising and falling on my cock, pounding me furiously with her perfect ass. Lowering my hands slowly back down her belly, I found the bare, drenched lips of her pussy, then probed and circled her rubbery clit with the tip of my finger. "Oh fucking Christ David I'm going to come I'm going to come - oh FUCK me FUCK me FUCK me..."

It was too much for me - I gaped at her straining torso, her shuddering breasts, and the tornado of hair whipping wildly around her shoulders. The words and sounds she made let me know the crest she was riding would break and carry her crashing over the edge in seconds. Just as she let it take her, she reached between us and circled the base of my cock tightly with her thumb and fingers. We rode over the cliff together, suddenly reaching and clutching at each other, sealing our mouths together in a deep, violent, carnivorous kiss.

She lay there panting on top of me afterward, her head on my chest, my leg trapped between her thighs. I could feel the hard rise of her vulva push into my thigh in regular little spasms like an earthquake's aftershocks.

"God, David - that was perfect. I'm so happy. This is going to work, isn't it? I mean with Michael?"

"I have to admit, there is something exciting about it," I told her. "I want you to be happy, and there's something taboo about it that puts an edge on it. I know - it's been my fantasy for so long, but I was always uneasy about how I might react if it really happened. You make it a lot easier for me to accept. I love seeing you like this."

"So, you don't mind if I see him again? Maybe not too soon, but eventually?"

"When I told you I could 'look the other way', I meant it. As long as I have you as often as I need you, not just in bed, but in every other way, in my life. I want to share this with you. I want to know what you do with him - what he does to you - all of it. I suppose the only things that scare me a little are secrets, the ones you and he might have I'm not aware of. I have to know everything. He has to understand that."

"We need to have him over, David, so we can talk about all of this. Are you comfortable with that? The only Michael you've ever known is 'Stephan'. You have to remember he's been an actor, and that 'Stephan' isn't the real Michael at all."

"Do it. Like I said, I don't want any secrets, and that includes who Michael really is." I took a deep breath, then exhaled. "This is surreal. I'm going to meet the man who's fucking my wife. And, I'm looking forward to it."

Linda raised her head and planted a quick kiss on my lips. "So am I, David. Probably even more than you are."

Best Served Cold - Chapter 12, Death by Chocolate

Linda and I made dinner together on Friday. My specialty is a spicy seafood cioppino over a bed of fettuccine. Linda had taken the afternoon off to make her 'Death by Chocolate' cake with her special touch, a drizzle of Courvoisier over the top and sides while it was iced. Four bottles of my favorite claret stood waiting on the kitchen counter, a silent rank of soldiers as reinforcements for the night to come.

Michael arrived early, surprisingly nervous and animated - not the 'Stephan' I remembered at all. He pumped my hand a few times after I let him in, patting my upper arm and smiling warmly. It was almost an unsaid apology, I thought, or at least an attempt to put me at ease. I had remembered him as taller and more imposing, but he was my height and nearly the same build. He had been a much better actor than I had given him credit for.

Linda hugged him and pecked him on the cheek, and he took her hands in his for a minute, admiring her. "I suppose you know what a lucky man you are, don't you?" he told me, grinning past her as he held her there in front of me.

"I suppose I do," I told him. Had I noticed a second of discomfort in his eyes when I answered him? Could he have possibly been jealous, or was it a brief flash of remorse?

"Oh - almost forgot these," he said, after releasing Linda. He turned to recover a dozen roses for Linda and a bottle of scotch for me, just outside the door where he had left them before knocking. Linda beamed at him, gushing over the bouquet of red blooms and buds. I was pretty happy myself with the eighteen-year-old single malt.

Linda and Michael sat and talked in the living room while I boiled the water for the fettuccine. It was all business, with back and forth about projects and deadlines. They seemed more like coworkers than lovers. I was relieved the subject of sex between them hadn't come up. Yet, there was still a hint of uneasiness, mixed with the unexpected potential that anything, good or disastrous, might descend upon us. Each time I'd hear Linda's voice rise in awe of Michael, I'd imagine his cock in her, and her unbridled joy of its length and girth. The linguini rushed past al dente as my imagination boiled alongside it.

Our dinner seemed to be a hit with Michael; as much as he liked my main course, he heaped praise on Linda for her chocolate-cognac cake. A few humorous stories about Linda and Michael's college days here and there kept the conversation light, but still reminded me of when and where they first fucked. There was an air of sensual familiarity between them that I viewed with equal amounts of arousal and caution; it was mostly the way Linda gazed at him when he spoke, or touched him arm when she laughed with him. Or, maybe it was just the wine going to my head.

Later, after we moved to more comfortable surroundings in our living room, the small talk carried us through another hour before it ran out of steam and stalled into silence. I brought more wine from the kitchen, and a plate with slices of Linda's cake to snack on. Linda and I sat beside each other on the sofa, and I had offered Michael my favorite recliner across from us. When we all ran out of words, he glanced at Linda, then me, and sighed.

"I guess we all know why I'm here tonight. So, I might as well start. David, I can't imagine what you think of me, after what I put you through," he began.

"What we put you through," Linda added.

He clasped his hands together, leaned forward in the chair, looked at the floor, and shook his head slowly from side to side.

"I cared about Linda. I didn't know you at all, and wanted to help her get over whatever happened between the two of you. I'm not judging you - but it was all for her. Only for her. I was pretty rough on you. Jesus, the longer it went on, the more it escalated out of control. She was working out her pain, and I admit, I was caught up in how it felt to have her there beside me like that again. But I'm not that guy. I'm really not. I just care about her."

I could feel Linda's eyes on me as he spoke.

"Michael, David and I have talked about this. A lot. It took some time, but I don't think he hates you," she said.

"You wouldn't be here if I did," I told him. "It took a long time though. You can thank Linda for getting me through most of it. And you're very lucky I've never been a violent man. But I guess it took a lot for all of us to get through it, in different ways."

Linda put her hand on mine and gave it a little squeeze.

"Besides, you were both lucky I didn't take my waitress's offer to fuck me, then never come back. A lot of other men would have," I told them.

"David! The pretty little Goth girl? The one I had to see about paying our tab after you forgot? Would you really have fucked her?"

"With you and Michael upstairs, well, doing whatever? I was sick with fear and guilt, and revenge wasn't far from my mind. She almost had me persuaded, but I had pickled my brain with so much ***** I wouldn't have been much good to her anyway, even if had wanted to fuck her - which I did, then didn't. I don't even remember some of it."

"I guess I would have deserved it, David. But I'm glad you didn't. It means a lot to me that you didn't make things worse."

I poured everyone another glass of wine as quiet descended again. Was Michael going to talk about what he and Linda had been up to? He seemed to be avoiding any mention of having sex with her, and what I had agreed to. If anything, he seemed to withdraw before ever hinting at it. We were all a little d r u n k, and strangely, instead of lessening our inhibitions, it s m o t h e r e d them into silence. I couldn't find the words myself, yet it was supposed to be the night we came to terms with our decision that Linda would be having sex with him. In any case, there weren't going to be any secrets. Whatever this was to be, I had to a part of it, or I wouldn't allow it to happen at all.

Linda's white blouse was inches away, so I reached over and began unbuttoning it. One button, then two, then three, all the way down to where it was tucked into her slacks. She shot me a surprised look, but didn't stop me. Michael sat across the room, staring in silence. She had bought the outfit for that night. It was simple, yet sexy; the silk blouse showed off her bare breasts and nipples beneath it, and the slacks, although roomy, were thin enough to outline her slim legs and perfect ass whenever the material happened to collapse against her.

I turned off all the lights except the one near her at the end of the sofa, then stood in front of her, parting her knees gently with both hands. She was breathing deeply, looking up at me with surprise and wonder. I smiled, just a little, and she returned it with a longer, but more cautious one of her own.

I placed my hands inside her thighs and trailed a single finger slowly up each side to the warm V where they met. Her hips twitched, just for a second, against me. I traced lingering paths up along the creases of her groin, finally hooking my fingers inside the wide waistband. I tugged, just once, very lightly. Her lips parted, and she silently mouthed the words, "Are you sure?" as she stared up at me. I nodded, and answered silently, "I'm sure."

The large decorative button at the waist opened easily, and I drew the zipper down as far as it would travel. She flinched when I touched her as I opened the last two buttons of her blouse, then spread the sides open, displaying the full expanse of her body from neck, to soft, lower belly. Her flesh looked delicious in the warm light of the nearby lamp.

She slouched a bit, moving her hips just off the edge of the sofa, a position she knew would appear more helpless and yielding. I stopped for a moment to watch her breasts heave and her nipples harden. It was all there - the excitement, the submissiveness, and the danger I knew had surrounded and invaded her, the sum of all the collective erotic fantasies and experiences unleashed inside her. I wanted to put my hands on her, to kiss her breasts and belly, to feel her velvety skin respond to my touch and see her burning core drip for me. But in the next instant, I understood all of it would be for someone else that night.

I inched her open slacks down over her thighs, halfway to her knees. She tried to splay her legs, straining against the bunched material. I had never seen the lacey white panties, no doubt bought for that special night. She was smooth and bare under them.

I stopped to stare again after I lowered the panties against the slacks. She had opened like an alien flower, with pulsing, wet petals surrounding a bright red, liquid center. An engorged, rubbery stalk lay among the petals, insistent and angry, the tiny head and mouth willing bait for sustenance lured to its entrance. I nearly surrendered, then resisted its siren's call, leaving it untouched for its intended invader.

Michael watched from his chair with fascination. When I turned to him, he had already taken his cock in his fist, lost in the sight of Linda's outrageous display of puckered nipples and drenched pussy. I nodded at him and stepped aside, offering all of her for whatever he wanted from her.

I watched him raise her legs and strip the slacks and panties off her in one f o r c e f u l tug. He landed between her legs and put his mouth on her, licking and probing deeply within her. She clenched his face between her thighs while he worked on her, and I heard her quiet whispers as I backed away.

"Yes - yes - yes - oh, Michael, yes - there - oh FUCK, Michael - fuck fuck fuck, YES.."

Then he stood and looked down at her, stroking himself, committing every curve, hill and valley of her ravenous body to memory before he finished her. He was so incredibly hard for her. The ridges and veins of his cock raged with impatience, and he dripped an unending string of syrupy precum.

I'm not sure what Linda saw when she looked at me then. It was something between me living a longtime fantasy, and preparing to run screaming into the night, I suppose. It's not quite what I felt, but I could see how she might have taken it for that. She rose from the sofa and asked carefully if Michael could stay.

I tried the best I could to look over at him without staring at his raging erection. It was both frightening and erotic knowing he was so hard for Linda, and that she was nearly naked so close to me, so ready to let him have her. It was then I knew why she had avoided comparing us - my cock to his. At least she had been joking when she assumed I thought of him as having "massively thick, ten-inch cock". Still, I recognized in an instant how his imposing, heavily veined girth she had neglected to mention must have fueled her addiction to it, and the need to feel him inside her again.

"It's fine," I managed to utter. Linda was standing next to me with her pleading eyes fixed on me.

"Are you sure?" she asked. A mix of her perfume and the heat from her body assaulted me in waves when she took my hand. She looked so desperate, so beautiful, and so fuckable. I thought that if I could have read her mind, that she'd have been starved for him, for the thick, pulsing cock that stood rigid and upright, waiting impatiently for her to take it in her mouth, then inside her, filling her belly as the length of it dragged across her hungry, distended clit. Even if she could find the words to tell me, I doubted that she'd dare to say them out loud. But her face, and her eyes, told me everything.

When I couldn't answer, she told me, "We'll go to the bedroom. Will you be okay on the sofa?"

It was the perfect answer to something I couldn't reason my way out of. It wasn't my time to see anything more. I wasn't ready, and Linda knew that instinctively.

"Sure. I'll be fine out here. Have a good time - really, I want you to," I told her. It sounded silly and out of place after I had said it, but I was too shaken to offer any other response.

Michael was watching. I was sure he had begun to have doubts about where this was headed.

"It's okay, Michael," I assured him. "Just a case of first-time butterflies. Be careful with her - but, I mean, give her whatever she wants. Make her happy - but seriously, don't fuck that up, all right?"

It certainly wasn't 'Stephan' who answered me. He looked down for a second, and then smiled at me. "I've always cared about her, David, in all the right ways. None of that has changed."

Linda took his hand, led him to our bedroom, and closed the door.

I heard them occasionally throughout the night. It was mostly Linda's passionate cries and her unmistakable responses to his fucking, but then Michael's lower pitched groans would travel through the door and wall between the sounds she made and I imagined him coming in her each time. When I slept, I had bizarre dreams of them back in college - Linda in a short, pleated school-girl skirt and skin-tight, deeply cut, V-neck sweater, banging on his door begging for sex, then her on her knees sucking him as a river of semen escaped from both sides of her hungry mouth. The semen kept flowing into her, minute after minute, and she gulped it desperately, looking up at him as though she might be punished for consuming too little of it. I'd wake with an erection, then hear them fucking in our bedroom and wonder if the sounds they made had been woven into my dreams.

Michael left quietly, early the next morning. I pretended to s l e e p while I watched him tiptoe across the room and out the door. Linda was awake, and I went in to see if she was okay. She was naked, and lay with one leg exposed on top of the sheet, clutching the rest of it against her breasts. She rolled toward me when she heard me come in, baring the rest of her body as the sheet fell away. She yawned and stretched, then reached out for me to join her. I noticed a few used condoms on the bedside table, their contents leaking into a small, crusting puddle.

She drew me to her and hugged me as though we had been apart for weeks.

"Mmmmm - did you s l e e p?" She asked.

"A little. Did you?"

She nibbled on my ear. "Not much..."

"I heard," I said, teasing her.

"Were we loud? Sometimes I couldn't help it."

"So, you had a good time?"

She rolled on top of me, her face beaming, her eyes alive with excitement. "David, it was wonderful. He's full of surprises - but he doesn't know my body like you do. I missed that." She grinned, found my cock, and held it until it came to life in her hand.

"I had some pretty strange dreams last night," I confessed.

"Mmmm, dirty ones? About me?"

"Yes, about you, and very dirty."

"Ooooh, TELL me! TELL me! The dirtiest one!"

"How about you in a tiny Catholic school-girl outfit, on your knees, sucking Michael until his cum flowed out of your mouth."

"Mmmm, I like it, but it wasn't anything that happened last night. I didn't have him in my mouth once. All he wanted to do was fuck constantly, all night. He was insatiable."

"I guess that's understandable," I said. "He's waited a long time to come in my beautiful wife."

"Oh stop! You make it sound so...so... well, yes, I guess that's about right!" she agreed, giggling.

"So, it's Saturday. What would you like to do today?" I asked.

She rolled off me onto her back, raised her arms over her head, and stretched her body from fingers to toes. It was a luscious sight. Every firm muscle under her tight, pale skin rose along the slim lines of her legs and torso, as though an artist's hand had coaxed the perfect erotic sculpture from pure, white marble.

"Breakfast! A big one!" she answered.

"And then what?"

"A shower, with you."

"And...?" I asked again.

"And then, you better get some rest. Because you're going to fuck me in every room today, all day long, until one of us can't fuck anymore."

"And then?"

"And then we'll do it all over again, tomorrow. I have so much to tell you, and I love doing it while we fuck."

Best Served Cold - Chapter 13 - Plans Within Plans

We went on like that for months. Michael kept his rental house off the market, stocked the refrigerator, and put a king-size bed in one of the rooms. When Linda took extended lunches to meet him there, he'd have soap, fresh towels, and a small assortment of her cosmetics so she could return to work without looking, as she put it, "freshly fucked". I never knew in advance when they'd meet, only after Linda would rush home to give me all the details. She said that often she'd never know when he'd call for another of their "dates", that sometimes it would be minutes before her lunch hour. She became more and more skilled at making the stories about them blatantly pornographic, so much so at times I wondered if she was exaggerating their staggering attempts to make up for years of lost time. She assured me, over and over, that she wasn't.

It was Michael's idea that the three of us should go out together now and then on weekends. There were museums and art galleries to visit, and outdoor festivals in the spring. I'm sure there were times when some might have tried to guess which of us was her lover after she put her hands on us, alternating her attention between us. I often wondered what they thought when she took both our hands, or pulled us both close so she could put an arm around us and give us each a peck on the cheek. I didn't want to be alone without her after one of those days, so Michael always came home with us, chatted about our day over dinner, and fucked her in our bed.

He'd stay for breakfast now and then on a Saturday or Sunday morning. We became comfortable with him there at the breakfast table surprisingly soon, he in his boxers, and Linda in just her panties as she made us thick, yellow omelets and a large pan of sizzling bacon. Michael and I would stare as we watched her stretch, up on tiptoe, when she reached for a plate or bowl on an upper shelf. When she bent to look in the refrigerator with her pantied little ass toward us, we would catch each other grinning. We didn't need words to show how the slim lines of her body got both of us a little hard, and I'd see the head of his cock creep from the leg of his boxers after a while, inflating and inching forward until it was obvious he wanted her one more time before he left. He didn't always get what he wanted, but he did often enough.

One of those mornings when his cock had crept a bit farther than usual from his boxers, Linda went to him and slid her hand up his thigh until she could take the head between her fingers. His erection grew at once, curving upward, soon a thick stalk of hard flesh in her hands. She looked at me with a side-wise glance, as if to ask if she should continue. I was growing my own erection, sneaking out from where my robe parted. That, and my gaping mouth as I watched her milk him, gave her the answer she needed.

Linda lowered herself to her knees and took him in her mouth. It was the first time I had actually seen her do it, and I was surprised at how eagerly she licked and sucked. Michael let his head fall back and closed his eyes, capturing and possessing every second of pleasure she lavished on him. His hips began to rise and fall in a measured cadence, fucking her mouth, carefully enough not to interrupt her determined intention to drain him. She moaned softly when he came in her mouth, the exquisite vibrations begging even more semen from him. As a pair, they were a surprisingly beautiful sight - I had never seen her worship another man's cock before, and Michael's body had responded exactly as she had planned, flexing and bucking while Linda's greedy mouth emptied him.

When she finally consumed all he had to give her, she looked over at me and asked, "You liked watching that, didn't you? You've spent so much time imagining Michael's cock in my mouth. Was it everything you fantasized about for so long?"

"It was - just, beautiful," I told her. "You're amazing."

"Well, don't think you're going to be left out. I always have time for you too, remember?"

She knew I was already hard, and she sucked me with a passion I rarely saw from her. Michael appeared behind her, went to his knees, and placed his hand between her legs, working his way down inside her panties. When all his fingers entered her, her eyes met mine and widened suddenly. "Oh God, David - he's inside me - stretching me - so fucking much - fuckfuckfuck -" When he pushed into her farther, she groaned so loudly, the low, growling wave of sound sent me over the edge and I spewed into her as Michael's penetration triggered her own orgasm. Then, just after she had swallowed everything I had given her, Michael took a fistful of her hair, pulled her head back gently, and touched two fingers to her lips. She sucked on them like they were flavored with strawberry daiquiri, closed her eyes, and groaned one more time before finally collapsing into my lap.

My eyes met Michael's, and there was a first-time connection between us. We had given Linda an unplanned but deeply satisfying reward together, one we'd all remember. There were subliminal messages in the look we shared; his was a sincere promise he wasn't there as a competitor, only that he wanted Linda's body and our friendship; mine was one of forgiveness, and trust that his intentions were honest and true. It was strange to me that we could come to the moment when we could put the past behind us without speaking a single word. But then, Linda had always been adept at summoning a surrounding blanket of empathy. This time, it was the astonishing way she had achieved it.

Still, as relaxed as our relationship had become with Michael, I had never watched them in our bed. Michael hadn't offered, and Linda remained concerned about how I might react, or maybe she was too self-conscious to encourage it. I found the subject just awkward enough to let things stand as they were. When he stayed over, it was assumed that he'd share Linda and our bed as our guest. I'd take the sofa only a few yards away, but not before leaning close to our bedroom door and masturbating to the sounds of Linda urging him on. The moans of her orgasm were always enough to finish me.

Then, one night after Linda and I fucked to the fantasy of a masked intruder finding his way through an unlocked window and having his way with her, she asked if I had ever wished I could watch Michael fuck her.

"He's the one who brought it up," she admitted. "And I wouldn't mind - in fact, it would be good for us, wouldn't it? You like seeing me naked, don't you? Wouldn't you like to see me under him, or on top, riding him, with his cock in me? Hasn't that always been your fantasy?"

I admitted as much. "But are you sure he'd be able to keep it up with me there watching, like some kind of spectator?"

She rolled on top of me and grinned. "Welll - he's always been ready, always so hard for me, and then again so incredibly soon after we fuck. Why do you think I'm so happy all the time? I have two men who I can depend on to fuck me completely and deliriously senseless, whenever I want them. Why shouldn't they both be in the room with me at the same time? Or maybe in the same bed?"

I didn't have an immediate answer for her, but still wondered how it might work. She could see I still struggled with all kinds of potential mishaps and embarrassment.

"What if we leave the bedroom door open the next time he stays?" she suggested. "You could wander in quietly after we start, or just watch from the door if that's better for you. He's already told me he wouldn't mind if you want to watch. In fact, he said he wondered how long it was going to be before you bring it up. He's done this before when he lived in New York, remember?"

"So, what then?" I asked her. "Would you want me on the bed with the two of you? Or maybe more than just that?" I knew I was asking the questions of a clueless beginner.

"It's not that I haven't thought about it, David, but I guess I never went so far as to imagine all the things the three of us might do together every minute. Maybe I was afraid it wouldn't be as perfect as the fantasy. But, imagining having two naked men in my bed at the same time - mmmm, it is hard to see how that could be a bad thing."

"You'd want both of us to fuck you then? Maybe take turns?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, David. Maybe just let it happen and see where it takes us?"

"But you still have some idea, right? About what you'd want if you had two cocks to play with instead of just one?"

She shook her head slowly and grinned at me as her hand tested bringing my cock back to life. "One cock is fine. But since you brought it up, two might be better. But I wouldn't worry about how and when I'd want them if I were you - you don't know what Michael is like in bed. He can be very creative. He might surprise you with how generous he is."

"You mean, generous with his cock."

"Mmmm, that too," she assured me, as my erection began to return in her expert hands. "Now, maybe you'd like to put this big, hard thing inside me while we talk more about Michael. I'm sure you can be just as creative if we talk more about you watching him fuck me."

We fucked furiously, and I'm afraid I came much too soon. But Linda didn't seem to mind at all. Afterward, her face was pure satisfaction and contentment, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above us, although I imagined it focused miles away.

Best Served Cold - Chapter 14, Talking Cock

I came home Saturday afternoon to find Linda still at work on her laptop, her eyes scanning the screen intensely. She didn't often work from home, but her office had an unplanned deadline and she had been at it all day. She had sighed when she got the news from her boss that morning, knowing it would likely take most of her day. I knew better than to ask her if I could help; she was the artist, I was the 'tech guy'. Unless her laptop needed a virus dead and gone, I'd be useless. I left in the morning to give her peace and quiet for half the day, hoping it would cut short the time it would take her to finish.

"I have food, and something else you'll like. Almost done?" I asked when I returned.

She looked up and smiled. "Thank you! I'm so starved - I've been at this all day with nothing to eat but munchies. And we're out of everything to d r i n k except water and beer."

"So, we have Kung Pao Chicken, and for me, some Thai Curry. I know the spicy stuff gives you heartburn, but I couldn't resist a little curry for myself."

I set the food on the table, then opened the large grocery bag. "And, you're going to love what else I brought you." She sat back in her chair and watched me lift the Bacardi and strawberries from the bag. "I'm afraid the strawberries are frozen. The weather's so bad I gave up looking for fresh ones. This time of year I doubt there are any within a hundred miles. Sorry about that."

She got up and hugged me, planting a quick kiss on my lips. "You're always thinking of me - did you get something for yourself?"

"To d r i n k? Well, I still have that eighteen year old single malt Michael was kind enough to give me the night he came to dinner to show me what a 'good friend' he was to you. You remember that night, don't you? How friendly he was to you?" I grinned, and she took a step back and punched me.

"I seem to remember you liking what a 'good friend' he was to me after he fucked me to within an inch of my life in our bed. You couldn't keep your hands or your cock away from me the entire weekend. Come on now, admit it..." She was backing away slowly with her hands spread, having her usual fun teasing me.

"Okay, I admit it. How many times did he fuck you that night anyway? I can't quite remember," I teased back. "Let me think, was it three, or four, or five...?"

"Keep going," she said. "You'll get to the right number eventually..."

We were both so hungry we sat at the table and devoured the food in silence. When I began to make her a daiquiri, she told me to wait. "It's early - are you trying to get me d r u n k and have your way with me, mister? You know can have me any time you want, don't you?"

She began to unbutton her blouse as she ate. There was just enough of her cleavage exposed to make me want to put my hands inside. She didn't look up - she simply undid the final button, stretched her arms and straightened her back just enough to thrust her breasts through the opening. Then she was staring at me, flashing her best sex-kitten smile, watching me drool. "Any time, any way you want - just let me know," she assured me. What was it she said, the other night in one of your old movies? 'All you have to do is whistle. Just put your lips together, and blow?'"

I was hardly Bogey, but she had done a seriously heart-stopping imitation of Bacall. In fact, quoting the film made me consider how much like Bacall Linda could be in her most daring, seductive moments. She had been so girly when we first met. I thought it had been an act, but it was still so sexy. Marriage had changed her though as she became what she imagined a wife should be - soft, pretty, and innocent, with a maturity that seemed almost a veneer at times. Year by year I could see she was determined to grow into the part, to put on a new skin, one she borrowed from the women who managed her at work, and from the older wives of couples we socialized with. But now and then the girly Linda would emerge, suddenly and unexpectedly, often when she used it to let me know she was horny, or even sometimes to flirt with other men. She could turn it on and off in an instant, and she knew how well it worked. Men loved it, and so did I.

But just as there was a vestige of her girly side, Linda sheltered a darker, more assertive side as well. She used it much less often, but I learned it could also be summoned by sexual desire after long periods of stress, and the absence of cock. I grew to love that she would constantly surprise me with seductions laced with lurking secret fantasies and what she came to confess as her sometimes 'good girl/bad girl' inner conflict.

I understood her darker nature much better after her confession about Jordan, her past coworker who teased out and inflamed her submissive addiction. In time, the public assertive Linda had become more dominant, which gave her an air of professionalism at work and of the 'proper wife' everywhere else. Even her taste in clothing had matured; the little girl baggy shorts and T-shirts had been discarded for fitted slacks, silk blouses, and sundresses influenced by her image of what a 'proper' wife should wear.

Age had been kind to Linda - more than kind, actually. Her figure had blossomed in her early thirties with perfectly flared hips and fuller breasts, but she still miraculously retained her wasp-like waistline and long, slim legs. She wore the changes well, most often appearing as a Stepford wife physically, but with a sharp wit and keen ability to hold her own in any conversation about any subject. At first glance she was a pretty housewife, but she soon became a fascinating enigma after any man spent five minutes with her. It gave the girly Linda an even more potent effect when she let it out to play. Men were drawn to her as though they didn't care that she was my wife, and that hadn't always been easy for me to ignore.

"I just might take you up on that tonight," I answered with a knowing grin. "I have some other surprises, ones I think you'll like even more."

"So where are they?" she asked, peering into the bags I brought home.

"You'll have to wait till tonight- maybe after a few more daiquiris."

"Can't you give me a hint? You know how I hate waiting for presents!"

"Well, it's something we can play with," I promised with a smile.

"I know that look - I hope it's not another dildo, at least not one even bigger than the last one you bought. I never liked it, but I know you got off pretending it belonged to some big stud that was fucking me. It really didn't work that well for me. I prefer real cock, fantasy boy. You know - thick and hard and warm, with a nice fat head that leaks a little so I know I'm making it happy?"

"Sorry about that. I guess I could tell, and it's why I put it away after a while. But I really wanted to know how you'd like a much bigger cock during sex. So, you didn't like it at all?"

"David! That thing was huge! It felt like a giant post stuck up inside me. I don't want to feel like I'm giving birth while I'm having sex. I want a man to use his penis to make me happy, to satisfy me, and to feel like I've been with a warm human being afterwards."

"But, you like Michael's though, right? You never were honest with me about his size."

"I was, David. I told you it didn't matter, that the man mattered."

"I've seen it myself, Linda. Why can't you be honest about it? You must be able to tell the difference. Can you tell me what kind of difference? How it feels inside you?"

"Honestly David, you really are a glutton for punishment today. Does hearing me tell you things like that turn you on?"

"It's - complicated," I confessed. "In a way, yes. Imagining his big cock exciting you when you see it, hold it, and then put it in your mouth - the image I get is breathtaking. When I think about how great it makes you feel, how satisfying it must be for you when he's pumping away inside you, it's sexy as hell, and I'm happy for you, glad that he can do that for you. He's been a good friend to you, and has a cock that you like just as much. I guess a woman couldn't have it any better than that, especially a married woman with a husband like me that allows it. But with all those emotions comes the danger, the fear that you'll like it a little too much, and that there's nothing I could do to compete with that if I had to. We men are stuck with what we're born with."

"You men and your competition thing. And comparing dick sizes is the ultimate cliche. You do know that women don't live for your cocks, right? That we don't get up every morning and think, 'Now where can I go to find the biggest cock out there today?'. Don't get me wrong - we love your cocks. But we don't measure them or marry them. We don't obsess over them, at least not like you men do."

"So, you're not going to tell me," I said finally.

She stared at me for a few seconds, narrowing her eyes, thinking. "If that's what you want, fine. There is a difference. And yes, one I can feel. It's the way it pushes against my clit, the way it tugs at it while he's fucking me. I love the way it fills me up inside, but sometimes I come too soon; it's too intense. It's great quickie sex, but not the prolonged, loving sex I need from you. He's not that much bigger, David; it would never be enough to make me give up yours for his. Never. Is that what you wanted to know? Are you satisfied now?"

I couldn't decide whether she was determined, angry, or just exhausted from trying to make me understand. I knew if I didn't respond, she'd think she hurt me, and that wasn't true at all. Actually, her honesty, in words that came so easily for her, was both comforting and a bit arousing. I wondered if she realized she had added to the lurid images I was collecting in my head of Michael and her fucking.

"Completely satisfied," I told her, with every ounce of sincerity I could manage. "That's all you had to say. I just needed honesty, and was afraid if you were holding anything back, if there were any of those secrets we've talked about, we'd be in trouble."

She reached across the table and took my hand. "David, there are secrets. But they're our secrets, not secrets between Michael and me. He'll never know everything about us, what our lives have been like before him, or feel our love for each other now. I've told you before, if you want me to stop fucking him, I will."

"No, I don't want that, Linda. And I'm sure you don't either. All I want is honest answers to my questions and concerns, especially the nagging ones that fuel my insecurities. I guess I'm still learning, still trying to feel my way through it to do this the right way, if there is one."

"We both are, David. And I'm sorry that I wasn't completely honest with you. But I didn't know that it was on your mind so much, and I guess I was afraid the truth would hurt. It won't happen again. I promise to tell you all about his giant, enormous cock." Now she was teasing me, and her final grin was all she needed to change the subject.

She came to me, sat on my lap, and kissed me deeply. I put my hand inside her open blouse, palming her breast and nipple. She released a soft moan as we kissed, and I knew she'd be wet inside her lined, winter jeans. She broke the kiss and smiled, an inch from my face. "Wanna fuck? I'm not sure I can wait for my daiquiri." I loved it when she veered from affectionate to nasty in the blink of an eye. Nothing made me harder.

"Maybe I want to make you wait," I said, grinning back at her. "Maybe I want you begging for it."

"I can beg. I can show you," she assured me.

"Not convincingly enough before two daiquiris. I want my gorgeous wife a little d r u n k and very slutty tonight before I show her my surprise."

Her hand moved to my crotch, squeezing lightly. "I can do slutty. Maybe more than you know, mister. But I'm warning you, if my husband finds us, he may want to join in. And that might scare you, because he has a very, big, cock, and you'd be SO left out."

"I'll take my chances," I told her. "I'm sure a little slut like you will be worth waiting for. And, I know for a fact that married pussy is the best kind. Slutty married pussy, well, that's something special. I'd stand in line for that."

"Then you better get busy, mister. Those daiquiris aren't going to make themselves. And my husband's scotch is a gift from my boyfriend, so you can have as much as you want, as long as your cock still works."

Truly excellent writing Don. I can't ever remember reading a better story than this. I'm loving it, so thank you.
Peter C

Much appreciated, Peter. It's more of a hotwife/reluctant husband idea, nothing too extreme (after the first chapter). Some of it is from past personal experience and memorable wife quotes, but it's still fiction. I have a few more chapters that need some work until it's done, but I'll be traveling soon for work so it may take some time. Thanks for looking in and staying with the story.

Don

Best Served Cold - Chapter 15 - Preparations

Linda finished her work by early evening. By then I had enough time to make our bedroom much more likely to match my surprise. The pitcher of daiquiris was made, this time with just a bit more rum than Linda was used to. She wrinkled her brow a little at the first sip as though she knew something was different, but by the second glass she was sipping faster, enjoying the a l c o h o l rush through her veins, then the light-headed calm that washed over her.

"OK, can I see your surprise now that you've got me d r u n k?" she asked.

"I think it's time," I told her. "But you have to put this on first."

"Mmmm, kinky," she said with a tipsy grin. "So, you're going to have your way with me while I'm blindfolded?"

I went behind her and placed the black strip of cloth over her eyes, tying it with a double knot at the back. "Now, follow me to your defilement, sexy lady."

Our bedroom was lit by rows of flickering candles, on the window sill, her dresser, and across the headboard that rose three feet above our pillows. I had forgone real candles, hoping the small battery powered ones would last much of the night without extra care.

I took two steps back and told her to take her clothes off. All of them.

She hesitated. "Okay David, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to display you. You're a toy tonight. Obey me, and you'll be rewarded. Don't, and you'll be punished, in the most cruel ways imaginable." I knew I couldn't put enough evil in my voice to scare her, but she got the message.

She grinned, then willingly began to play her part. "But Sir, which piece of clothing should I remove first? I don't want to be punished." It was her innocent little wifey voice, and it made me extra hard.

"I want to see how you choose to expose yourself before your Master. You decide, but beg me first. Beg me to take each piece of clothing off, and tell me what you want to show me."

"Okay - I'll take my blouse of for you..."

"No! Beg me! Then tell me why."

"Um, okaay, 'Master', can I take my blouse off for you? Please?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

She grinned again. "Oh, 'Master', I want you to see my tits, sooo much. I hope you like them."

"So, show them to me."

She unbuttoned her blouse so slowly, lingering on each button, pretending the embarrassment was almost more than she could stand. I watched her pull it off her shoulders, then hold it out in front of her, presenting it to me.

"It's all yours, Master."

I tugged it from her outstretched hand, backed away again, and waited.

"Can I take off my bra, Master? I really do want to show you my tits. I hope you like them."

"Yes, my toy, take it off and show me. I hope they're worthy."

She removed her bra and held it out for me. I took it from her and put my hands on her breasts, lifting and squeezing them. "Do you like the way I fondle you?"

"Ohhh yes, Master. My tits are yours, all yours. You can even suck them if you want." She couldn't hold back the hint of a grin.

When I sucked her nipple into my mouth, she took a sudden deep breath, then made a quiet little sound, something between a moan and a whimper.

"Ahh, my little toy likes it. But don't be afraid. If you need to moan like a little slut, then do it. In fact, I insist."

I sucked again, this time on the opposite breast, and the sound of her moan filled the room. Without warning, I took her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. She moaned again, eyes unseeing behind the blindfold, submitting to her 'unknown Master". Turning her head to the side, I whispered closely by her ear, "My little slut wants to fuck, doesn't she?"

"Yes!" she hissed. "I want Master to fuck me until I come. Please!" She seemed to fall into the game instantly then, her pleading so sincere I was convinced it was genuine.

"But you'll have to strip first. I haven't even seen your pussy yet. Do you want to show me?"

"Yes - yes, I will. I want to! I want to show you my pussy so you can fuck me."

She wasted no time stripping off her socks, jeans, and panties, dropping them on the floor beside her.

"I-I'm naked for you, Master. Will you take me now?"

"Only if you behave, my toy. Now, get on the bed and spread your legs. Show me how you like to take your Master's cock."

I led her to the bed and helped her onto it. She stretched out her arms and legs in a show of complete surrender. When I put the padded handcuffs on her, she turned her head suddenly from side to side, as though she might see through the blindfold to watch. I passed a heavy rope through an opening in the headboard, then drew it tightly around the short chain between the cuffs. As I pulled the rope, it drew her hands above her head, closer the headboard, until her wrists were fastened there but free to pivot about the center of the cuffs.

"So, our long night begins," I said solemnly. "Do you have any idea how many times you'll be used tonight, my toy?"

"You can use me any way you want, Master. As many times as you want. My body belongs to you. All of me."

She was smiling again, expecting me to climb between her legs and fuck her - the usual merely adequate attempt at BDSM sex compared to that Jordan had given her. Nothing more. A 'husband fuck' with a bit more edge than usual. We both knew my edge wasn't as believable as Jordan's, but she was playing her part. I wondered if her words were anything like the words she used with him, and if it brought back memories of their sessions together. My guess was that this was a snack to her compared to Jordan's full course meal with desert and a cherry on top. So far.

"I can see by your smile that you underestimate me, that you believe this won't be enough to break you, to make you a true slut. I believe you're very, very wrong."

Best Served Cold - Chapter 16, The Game

I went to our bedroom door and opened it so he could enter. He went to her and slipped the blindfold off. In the warm, flickering candle light, she opened her eyes to see Michael standing over her. He was naked and erect, smiling at the astonished expression on her face.

"M-Michael - what, how? Oh my God! David, did you do this? Ask him here? Like this?"

Michael placed his hands on her breasts, kneading them and rolling his thumbs over her nipples. I'll admit his tone was more convincing than mine. "Our toy shouldn't be asking such questions, should she, David. Doesn't she understand we're her Masters? We don't answer to her - she answers to us."

"She understands she can be punished, but she doesn't know what she'll have to do tonight to avoid it," I told him.

"Well, I think it's time she finds out, don't you, David?"

Michael reached into my hidden bag of surprises I had bought that afternoon. Linda's eyes widened when she saw the thing he retrieved. He carried it to the bed and leaned close to her, brandishing the immense object. With a flick of the switch, the end of the lifelike dildo began to writhe in small circles, lazily revolving at the end of the thick, veiny, shaft. Neither of us knew for sure whether Linda's look of speechless intimidation was real or created for our benefit.

"Now, now, Linda, we won't use this on you - yet. Maybe if you show us how grateful you are for having two cocks in your bed, we won't have to use it at all. That's what she wanted, wasn't it, David? Two cocks in her bed?"

"She said it might be better than one, Michael. Might. But I do think she's going to find out."

"Well, she certainly isn't going anywhere, tied like this, so we might as well help her make up her mind. I really do like her like this, David. It's one of my areas of expertise. You should have said something earlier."

That's when her eyes widened, surprised that I may have shared her secret, now concerned about how far we'd go to give her the fantasy Jordan had inspired in the past.

"She really is a pretty little thing, David. I hope you appreciate her, and what she could be after she's broken."

"She has these obscene fantasies about other men," I said. "She teases me with her stories, but she's only been unfaithful with one man. That would be you, of course, Michael."

"I suppose you're looking forward to this then, David. Can you imagine her as the kind of wife who might enjoy making fucking other men a hobby? Having it become an obsession after her first taste of strange cock?"

"But a real slut?" I said. I looked down at her, tied to the bed. "I - I doubt that will ever happen, Michael. She loves sex, and teasing me with her fantasies. And I'm sure you know she loves your cock. We both get off on all that, but I don't think 'slut' is in the cards for her."

"A shame. But maybe I can help with that. What do you think, Linda?"

She glared at him, fully aware of her part in the game as Michael's submissive toy. "I'm not a slut! And I never will be, no matter what you do to me! I love my husband!"

"You sound very sure of yourself, Linda. But I'm sure we can pry the slut out of you in time. That's because I'm sure there's one in you. Would you mind if I had a go at her first, David?"

Linda looked back and forth at us, still a bit stunned that we had arranged this.

"Michael, you've had her so many times, I'm surprised you asked," I told him.

Michael climbed onto the bed and knelt at her feet. "Open your legs now, Linda. Show me that wet little pussy again, like you always do here while David s l e e p s on the couch. You really should be ashamed that he has to
s l e e p out there while you're cumming on my cock all night."

"But he, it's, his decision..." she objected.

"Now, what did we say about being grateful, Linda? Interrupting isn't being grateful. It might even result in punishment." He picked up the phallus again and turned it on, holding it close to her pussy, teasing her. I could see she feared taking the large, insidious, squirming thing inside her.

She spread her legs as far as she could manage, and Michael climbed between them, his cock even thicker and harder than I had remembered it. "Watch her face, David. She loves this," he told me. "Now, don't you hold back. I want David to see the real you when I put my cock in you. Understand, my toy?"

She glanced over at me, then looked up at him and nodded. "I'll show him. He needs to see. He's waited so long. I want him to see."

Michael buried the entire length of his cock in her in a second. She let out a little "Uhh" when he thudded to a stop against her. I saw her breasts heave a few times as she took several deep breaths in anticipation of what she knew was to come. She looked at me one last time, then put her hands on his shoulders and told him, "My fucking God, Michael, you feel sooo good inside me. You always have. Are you going to show my husband how you fuck me or not?" She seemed to assume she led the game then. She didn't.

"It's not quite that simple tonight, Linda. You're the toy, remember? Come on, say it for me..." I had to hand it to him - his voice was masterful and unforgiving. Having an experienced actor in our bed was surprisingly convincing.

"I'm your toy," she recited looking up into his eyes, as if in a trance.

"And what do boys do with toys, Linda?"

"Umm, fuck them?" It was her wifey voice again, and she had me trembling with thoughts of Michael using her.

"Well, yes, eventually, but boys like to play with their toys first. David, would you like to play with my toy for a few minutes?"

"I'd absolutely love to play with your toy," I assured him.

Michael withdrew from her pussy without another full stroke, and I took his place. She was soaking wet, and I pushed into her even more easily than Michael had.

"Go on, David. Enjoy her. You can see she wants it. But save yourself - there's much more to come. There's something I adore about a sweet wife who rarely gets the kind of sex she needs. I think it's the light in her eyes when she truly becomes a slut. Yes, it's the process that's invigorating, but the result - when a woman will do anything, give up anything, even her pride or dignity, to satisfy her newly acquired, ceaseless hunger for cock? That's a stunning and ultimately rewarding accomplishment."

Linda looked up at me as I pumped in and out of her. Her breathing was ragged, and her chest was heaving as I stroked. It was as though she was trying to steady her balance atop a precipice that separated reality on one side from the game on the other.

Suddenly, she mouthed the silent words to me - "Thank you." I cracked a smile and nodded for a second. She had given me the password to the game, a sign she knew I may need to freely carry it out to its likely conclusion. It was the very contrast between "innocent" and "savage" that ignited and fueled the game. That Linda could want both, could be both, hardened both Michael's cock and mine. What could be more madly exciting and fiercely formidable than a "savage slut wife"?

Michael appeared at the side of the bed with the mechanical phallus. He held it before him so she could see and flicked the switch. This time the dildo pumped forward and back in long, menacing strokes. Another setting made the entire shaft convulse, thickening and narrowing along the entire length of it. The expansion and contraction made the thing look obscenely alive, its diameter increasing to impressive girth at times. Linda stared and trembled, and as I fucked her I couldn't tell whether she was frightened or excited by the sight of its potential invasion.

"We like our toys to be grateful, Linda," Michael said, holding the phallus closer to give her a better look. "Now, we could wait until it's too late and let our mechanical friend have its way with you, or you could avoid that by letting us know you appreciate us. After all, we're giving you what you need, what your husband alone can't provide for you."

He placed the squirming dildo on her belly, running it slowly over the soft, yielding expanse of skin. She stared down at it, following its path over her body as it inflated over and over again like an obese, invading creature. When she didn't comply, he nestled the base lower where my cock entered her and laid it lengthwise along her torso so the bulbous head lay inches above her navel.

"Think of it, Linda. Look how far it will penetrate you. Have you even taken a cock that big?"

She glared at him, refusing to answer, not believing he'd try to make her take all of it.

"Still no reply? Not one 'thank you' for giving you not one, but two cocks?"

She was shaking more violently as I continued to stroke, and I could tell she was seconds from cumming. When I pulled out of her, she shook her head quickly with eyes closed, trying to keep her impending orgasm alive. Her hips bucked in heated frustration when she was denied it.

"I'm afraid the unique talents of our mechanical friend aren't enough to make her sing, David. And that's all you have to do, Linda. Sing your praises to us. Tell us how our cocks are everything you need. Tell us you'll give up everything you are to be our little slut."

Linda did her best to feign fear and frustration, suddenly twisting and pulling at the rope that held her wrists to the headboard. She stopped when Michael climbed on the bed and held the wriggling phallus against the opening to her pussy. Her body froze as the spongy, rotating head began to bore into her. He stopped it an inch inside her and let it have its way with her.

Lifting her head, she watched it enter her. She was quivering again, shifting her stare between the dildo and Michael's face.

"Oh, Michael...oh fuck... it's...going to make me...cum. But...I want you...inside me ...for that, Michael. I want you inside me. Don't make me cum with...that thing, Michael. Please don't. Please...don't."

"So, you'll be my little slut? You'll tell David how I use you? Let him watch me fuck you in your bed?"

"For fuck's sake, Michael...yes...to all that...I never wanted it...any other way. David wants it too...now fuck me so I can...cum on your cock...pleeeease..."

She moaned and clasped her legs around him when he entered her, jerking wildly against the rope that held her wrists. When he teased her with slow, even strokes, she shoved her hips up into him, bucking wildly to take more of his cock into the liquid depths of her cunt.

This was a woman I no longer knew. The sounds she made were those of a captured a n i m a l desperate for freedom. A few were new to me - the alternating raw growls and shrill shrieks were stunning, if not frightening at times. When he teased her and stopped, she thrashed wildly against the rope that held her while one of the flickering lights fell from the top of the headboard onto the pillow beside her. In the darkened room, the tiny LED cast a jittering mix of shadow and light over her face, taunting me with fleeting glimpses of ravenous hunger and shameless depravity that will stay with me forever. And here and there were the rare but shocking flashes of her eyes on me, accusatory daggers meant to show me once and for all what she needed me to see, as if to say, "Any more questions NOW?"

Michael's endurance was extraordinary. He fucked her for an hour, stopping now and then while she thrashed against her bonds and begged him to finish her, then penetrating her urgently and deeply, her grunts and moans filling the room. Rivulets of sweat poured from his body onto hers as he worked. Their bodies glistened in the flickering light, an animated diorama of masterful domination and willing s u b m i s s i o n . I was transfixed as I watched. Was this my wife? This lust crazed, convulsing flesh? This eager receptacle for her Master's inevitable spew of cum? At his best, I thought, Jordan could not have given her more.

I began to wonder if this was what all their fuck sessions were like, and that unnerved me a bit. Yes, I had imagined they had great sex together, but as they fucked I began to wonder whether she remembered that she was my wife, or anyone's wife for that matter. This was a Linda I had never seen before, and although the two of them together was a delicious sight, it was my wife he was fucking, and it wasn't me she was begging hysterically to make her come. She had never told me how adept Michael was at being her Dom when they fucked, and thinking about my admitted ineptness when I had tried in the past made me queasy as they raged and convulsed before my eyes.

The words "taking her" came to me and refused to leave me. So many meanings and implications. Taking her meant simply fucking her in one sense, a definition I was prepared for and had fantasized about for so long. And while I didn't fear he'd actually take her from me, taking her in a sexual sense, appealing to and amplifying her deep-seated fetish and fantasies and permanently weaving that into their fuck sessions was more worrisome. I had always considered it a balance - the degree of satisfaction and pleasure she received from our sex compared to sex with an old college lover - maybe 90/10, or even 80/20. What if the balance should swing the other way? Her obsession with Jordan had been very real, by her own admission. Might I become the afterthought, a husband who settles for knowing his wife tolerates sex with him and incessantly craves the fucking she gets from her lover, a true Dom with a bigger cock in fact?

All this cycled endlessly in my head as I watched, twisting my gut for a split second, then yielding to the cock-hardening excitement ignited by the sight of Linda's hungry body, twisting and writhing as Michael's cock pistoned in and out of her greedy pussy. Strangely, after a while, the anxiety and potential h u m i l i a t i o n of Michael's superior sexual prowess slowly melded with my lust for seeing her satisfied. Jealousy and insecurity faded, and thoughts of allowing the balance to shift, giving her to him repeatedly for the satisfaction she craved, became curiously arousing. Did it mean I'd accept it, be happy with taking a secondary place in our sex life? Nope. I wanted her more than ever, and I wanted her to be mine. Yet the urges, the tiny pricks of wary s u b m i s s i o n kicking at the boundaries of the fantasy were clearly there.

Linda's orgasm exploded in the midst of her restless whimpering, in spite of Michael's best attempt to withhold it. She had tired of fighting the cuffs about her wrists and the rope that stretched her arms overhead, finally exhausted and limp under him. Whether she pretended to hide its approach, or nurtured the building climax until it spontaneously washed over her was impossible to detect. It was sudden, unexpected, and violent. Every last bit of energy came pouring out of her in a stream of raging obscenity that echoed through the room.

"fuckfuckfuck! Goddamit fuck me Michael! fuckmeandcuminmeandmakemeyourslutMichael causeIamIamyourslut IamyourslutMichael Iam Iam..."

She could have been possessed by a demon, but more likely she was possessed by the cock of a man who, in those few seconds, seemed to own her body more completely than I ever had. I watched him take her hips in his hands and lift them off the bed, his fingers pressing into her firm little ass on either side, clutching her tightly as he worked his hard meat in and out of her flat, shuddering belly. She collapsed after her climax took the wind from her, silently urging him on as she stared up into his eyes. She mouthed the words before I was able to discern them, then, in soft, whispering pleadings, her words became clear to me.

"Please, Michael, cum in me. I want you so much. Cum inside me, Michael. Cum inside me, cum inside me, cum inside me..."

He began to fuck her with faster, with more powerful thrusts. She lay there, helplessly watching him take her, surrendering every last remnant of lust that remained in her twitching body. The scene was so powerful, so gut wrenching, that I stood and paced to gather my senses. When I passed the foot of the bed I saw the thick root of his cock buried in her, suddenly still, then heard his groans as it began - the abrupt spasms along the underside of his erection, pumping his semen into her with violent contractions until a white, sticky froth began to drain from her greedy cunt.

He held her there for a while, her hips raised in the air against him. I followed the lines of her slim thighs, then up to her flat, sunken belly that still held the remains of his pulsing meat buried deeply inside her. She saw me watching and turned her face toward me. Her smile was first one of utter bliss, then grew to assure me, I thought, that she was still mine. When her mouth formed the words, "Love you", I knew her smile was everything I had imagined.

I'm not sure whether Michael noticed her silent message to me, or whether it had anything to do with his decision to leave without spending the night. No one said a word as he and I dressed. He leaned over the bed and kissed Linda on the cheek. She tilted her face up to him, asking for a kiss on the lips, and he obliged, lingering only a second or two. Maybe it was three. Then I walked him to the door.

"Do you think everything's okay with the two of you?" He asked. It surprised me. I expected him to gloat, or at least let me know what a great fuck she was.

"I'm fine," I told him. "And I'm pretty sure Linda is better than fine. But I'm surprised you're not staying."

He glanced back at our bedroom door, then smiled at me. "I think you two need some time alone, don't you?" he asked. "I've done this before, David, and I know the first time's the hardest, at least for her husband. Honestly, would you really want me to stay?"

"You're right," I said. "Linda and I have some things to, well, understand about tonight."

"I get it, David. I'm sure I'd feel the same way if she was my wife."

That rattled me a little. I knew it wasn't intended to be threatening, that he didn't actually think of her as his wife, but his choice of words still carried a hint of the intimacy I knew they shared. I put it out of my mind when he reached out and shook my hand.

"So, we'll do this again sometime?" he asked, quizzing me with his sincere expression.

"I think you can count on that. But she'll let you know. I expect you'll be seeing each other to...um..."

"Fuck, David?"

"I guess that's what I was trying to say, Michael. I'm not sure why I couldn't. I know you'll see each other, and I know she'll want to fuck you - I mean alone, or um, just the two of you. Guess I'm still just a little nervous about saying it out loud in front of you."

"So, do you still have doubts, David?"

"Not doubts, exactly. The idea of you together, fucking, excites me. The idea of you in love with her, or her with you, not so much. Makes me a little ill, actually. The physical stuff is pretty amazing. I'm fine with that, like Linda. More than fine."

His smile became a grin. "The 'physical stuff' is everything, David. Don't mistake the friendship Linda and I have for something else. We have great sex together. It's always been that way. Nothing more."

"Yeah, I can see that," I agreed, grinning right back at him as I let him out.