A Dish Served Cold - Part II
Posted 17 January 2009
It was raining steadily when Michael and I left the restaurant, which was quite a disappointment. I had hoped to have a few minutes standing with him because I badly wanted that initial embrace where we would kiss and I would feel his erection press into me while his hands explored my leather skirt. Over dinner he had learned how passionate I am about being fondled by men and I'm sure he was looking forward to giving me the sort of groping I adore. Unfortunately however there was no cover at the side of the restaurant or in the vehicle park, and we had little choice but to get straight into my car.
We started kissing and fondling each other immediately. It was awkward as car sex always is, but both of us were so hot for each other that we barely noticed the inconveniences. I had that moment of trepidation when I first reached down to feel Michael's bulge. In the state I was in that night it probably wouldn't have mattered how large he was, but there's no question that the relationship wouldn't have progressed any further if he hadn't measured up for me. I've made my views absolutely clear on the importance of prick size and I won't make exceptions (if anything I'm actually fussier nowadays because I currently don't require any more lovers).
"Fantastic," I blurted out as I ran the flat palm of my hand up and down his erection and pressed the tips of my fingers into his balls. Oh thank you, Lord, you've looked after me again. It was the last barrier to overcome. I didn't need to see it... I could feel it. He wasn't Matt's size, but then neither was any other man I'd been with except maybe Nick. But he was perfect for Maria's Cock Club.
He had started to massage my breasts and it didn't take him long to pull on the ends of the silver chain to see where they went. I wasn't sure he could quite make out what he was holding in the poor light, so I told him.
"They're nipple clamps," I said. "I want you to fasten them to me in a bit."
"Sweet fuck," he exclaimed, the first time he'd uttered an expletive all evening. "Unbelievable. I wish you'd told me earlier."
"So do I," I replied, "and I'd have gone to the ladies room and attached them if you'd wanted."
"Oh yeah... yeah, I'd have loved that."
"Next time then..." I promised.
He then moved his hand down to my skirt and felt all the way down my garter straps.
"I can't get over seeing you showing these suspenders like this," he groaned. "It made my prick hurt in the restaurant."
"Do you want to take me somewhere much more public one day?" I said, and I wasn't teasing him. "Do you want to see all the men looking at me, knowing that it's your prick I'm going to have?"
"Oh, bloody hell Maria, you're something else... yes, I want to do that. I really want to do that..."
I unzipped him and unfastened his belt and trousers, pulling them open. I then put my thumb under the waistband of his briefs and pulled them right down so they were tucked beneath his balls.
"Let me see your prick," I said as I pushed him back into the passenger seat.
It was fairly dark in the car, but there was plenty enough light for me to see him in full glory. I was ecstatic.
"Oh Michael, that's lovely, absolutely lovely."
I guess men must find it odd how I react to this part of their anatomy, but I'm a true penis worshipper and when you find me saying that I fall in love with a prick it's more than just dramatic licence. A lover's cock is unique and very special to me, and I don't just pleasure it to please its owner; I genuinely make love to it as an object in itself. Much of this has probably come about because I make love to my dildos in this way - to me they're more than just inanimate lumps of rubber and plastic, and I talk to them, stroke them and kiss them with a fondness and adoration that is totally real to me.
I snuggled up to him again and whispered in his ear as I stroked my fingers up and down his beautiful shaft.
"If you keep seeing me then I'm going to be sucking that an awful lot," I soothed. "I like to take cocks into my throat, but that one may be a little too big for me. One thing I can promise though is that you'll get to ejaculate in my mouth. I love drinking cum, Michael. I'm so looking forward to drinking your cum..."
"Stop it," he groaned.
"Well, I'm not going to suck you tonight," I continued. "You have to earn that. But I think he deserves just a little kiss, don't you?"
It wasn't easy bending down in that confined space, especially as it had to be done slowly for maximum effect. When my head reached the target I opened my mouth about halfway and just lightly touched my lips against the bloated head, softly licking my tongue across the smooth skin. It took all of my willpower to resist giving him full accommodation.
"Oh I just know I'm going to want you hard up me," I said as I came back up again.
I unbuttoned my blouse and took it off, and by raising myself out of my seat Michael managed to unzip my skirt. That was quite an ungainly exercise and certainly wasn't the erotic undressing I'd hoped for. Both of us ended up laughing at the contortions I got into.
Michael soon became serious again when he saw that I wasn't wearing any panties.
"You know, I figured you probably weren't," he said, "but I thought it might just be wishful thinking."
"I'm not sure it was such a good idea," I told him. "You've turned me on so much it's made the lining of the skirt wet." I wasn't joking.
He loved the leather suspender belt and rubber bra too. Guys go crazy over this sort of gear when they first see it because it says so much about the wearer. If Michael had any lingering doubts about the sort of woman he was dealing with, they were all extinguished in those couple of minutes.
As he fondled my breasts and squeezed a hand between my legs I slowly worked the opera gloves on to my arms. I took my time; I was loving the attention he was giving me and was very loath to interrupt him. When I had finally fully smoothed all the expensive black kid I lifted an arm and put it against his mouth.
"Kiss the leather," I said, and it came out as an order rather than a request. I don't care if it's a lover or a slave, any man I'm with pays homage to these gloves before they pleasure him.
There was instant compliance from him and I began moving my arm so that each kiss landed in a different place. When we got to the hand I pressed my palm right across his mouth and he tongued the hide as my fingers stroked his cheek.
"You're incredible," he kept saying. "Just incredible."
I got what I really wanted then. I settled back in my seat and lifted my left leg over the centre console so that it was draped over his right thigh. Then as I wrapped my left arm around the back of his neck I let him have his play. He was like kid let loose in a sweet shop, and despite the awkwardness and discomfort it was magical - pure adolescent sex. He rubbed my legs, the suspenders, the garter clips, the bra straps, and played with the silver chain; he squeezed my nipples, kneaded them, flicked them and even cruelly pinched them; and of course he massaged my pussy, cleverly refusing to actually put his fingers into me to maximise my frustration.
"Please," I eventually begged, "put the clamps on me and then finger me. Please..."
He knew what to do with the tweezers, but understandably he didn't tighten them enough for me.
"No, more than that," I urged breathlessly. "It's got to hurt. It won't be for long... it's just to make them hyper-sensitive. When I'm about to come I want you to take them off again and then suck my breasts really hard."
He did what I wanted and I let out a cry as the pain hit me, but nevertheless I could so easily have climaxed at that moment. When he finally fingered me I knew I couldn't last long. At first he didn't move his hands in the way I really like and I'm not in any way afraid to let a guy know how I want it. A couple of minutes later I was being massaged just perfectly and I let my head go back, closing my eyes at the same time so I could lose myself to the amazing pleasure. At just the right moment I got him to remove the tweezer from my left breast and almost as soon as he started sucking on the swollen teat I orgasmed. The climax was shattering and I don't know how long it went on for, but I doubt he'd ever seen a woman come like that from just a finger fuck. After some time he eased off, but I still hadn't had enough.
"Please Michael... please... don't stop... don't stop."
That really set him off. He hadn't said much before that, but he did now.
"God, you love it don't you? Look at you... just look at you. Andy said you were a nympho, but I had no idea how much you want it. I'm beginning to feel sorry for Martin. Poor guy, trying to keep you satisfied. Wouldn't matter who you're married to, you'd end up cheating on him eventually, wouldn't you? He just wouldn't be able to give you enough."
"I know, I know," I gasped, struggling to catch my breath. "I love it, I just love it."
"Is this what you love, hmm? Some of this?"
"Oh yes, yes! Give me more of that!"
"Yeah? You like that do you? Do you want it harder, like this?"
"Oh God yes! Yes!! Do that! Do it like that! YES!! YES!!"
I gave back in kind what Michael had given me. I love wanking a cock with my gloves and I know how to make it last. I really do call these my masturbation gloves because the leather is very thin and so I don't lose hardly any feel in my fingers as I work them over the shaft and head. I know where to touch a man and also how to accentuate the pleasure with my spare hand. I didn't need Michael to tell me as he did afterwards that I gave him the best hand job ever, which isn't really saying much anyway because most women haven't got a clue how to do it well.
Just as important as my physical handiwork is the verbal coaxing I give. You've heard extracts before, a kinky catalogue of the things that Maria is going to do to you and let you do to her if you play by her rules, all said in a soft siren voice. Michael almost went into a frenzy as I listed all the ways in which I wanted to have sex with him.
"I need a handkerchief," he suddenly blurted out as I was still in mid-stride. "Now!"
My tone of voice didn't falter for a second despite his comical outburst.
"No you don't, my baby, no you don't. What we're going to do is put my leather skirt like this... see?... and that's going to protect your clothes. And what you're going to do now is spray cum all over my gloves, my skirt and the inside of my car. That's what good boys do for me. Then tomorrow my husband will be made to clean it all up for me."
"Oh God... you really bloody mean it don't you!"
"Of course I mean it. I'm just wishing I'd worn some thigh length boots tonight so you could spunk all over those and I'd be able to tell you how Martin licked the cum off them when I got home..."
"Oh shit, I'm going to come. You gorgeous whore. I'm thinking of you in those boots... ahh... ahh... and those bloody suspenders when you walked into the restaurant... showing them off like that... anyone could see them... gorgeous... just fucking gorgeous... ahh... ahh... AHH!... AHH!!... YEEESSS!!"
I couldn't have wished for a better result. The first rope of cum came out with such force that it hit the glove compartment in front of him, and seconds later it was dripping off the underside of it. Another impressive squirt hit the central column, and several more splashes went on to the carpet near Michael's feet. The remainder unloaded on to my leather skirt and gloves. I kept wanking and squeezing for some time, getting every dribble of semen out of him, and I finished off by wiping his cock head clean on my glove.
"Beautiful," I said with complete sincerity. "That's exactly what I wanted Michael."
We kissed a few more times and told each other how enjoyable it had been, and as he tidied up his clothes he watched in amazement as I wiped my soiled gloves on the steering wheel. He then got out of the car and as he bent down to say some final words I think I surprised him by getting out myself. I walked round to where he was standing and embraced him again in the rain, giving one last kiss of thanks. I was standing there in the open in stockings, suspenders and bra, with no panties on, and the only thing that spoiled the moment was that there was no one there to witness it.
"You're dangerous," Michael said. "Unbelievably horny, but dangerous."
"What, you can't handle it?" I teased. "Don't tell me you wouldn't like it if someone walked out now and saw us like this."
"Oh yeah, I'd like it alright... that's what makes you dangerous."
I laughed as I turned away and headed back to the driver's door. "Well, I'd better go home and tell Martin all about my very pleasant evening. I hope you'll give me a call some time, but it's entirely up to you."
"You know the answer to that," he said, and he was right.
Before I got into my car I pulled out my lace top and put it back on, leaving it unbuttoned. As I then started to reattach and adjust the nipple clamps I saw him looking at me quizzically with his head tipped to one side.
"Are you really going to drive home like that?" he asked.
"Yep," I said almost distractedly, "and I'm not going to wear the skirt either... I'll want to play with myself on the way back as I think about tonight and it's easier without it on."
I'd genuinely given up prick teasing him and my mind was very much on what I was going to do when I arrived home, but I suddenly realised how bizarre the scene and my words must have seemed to him. I looked up again to find him shaking his head in bewilderment, and I had to laugh once more.
"Yes, you're right, I'm dangerous. But don't worry, you'll get used to it."
I'd hate to be in a relationship where I was having an affair behind my partner's back. What an absolute pain it must be to constantly have to cover your tracks and avoid silly slip-ups. How do you disguise the scent of Eau de Cologne or aftershave? Where do you hide your sexy clothing? What do you do about your cum-sodden panties or the small splashes of semen on your stockings and shoes? What if he sees your rosy red bottom from the spanking, or the hint of stripes on your back from the light whipping, or the marks on your wrists from the handcuffs? And horror of horrors, what if he wants sex when you arrive home? Would you be able to fake it? Would he wonder why your pussy is already so wet and stretched?
No, I could never lead a life of lies and subterfuge like that. I'm sure for some individuals the threat of discovery is all part of the thrill, but I would find no joy in constantly looking over my shoulder. One of the great plusses of a cuckold marriage is that there is absolutely no need for secrets and the fun doesn't end when the main course of sex is over. There's always the sweet dessert of humiliation to look forward to afterwards.
I went straight up to Martin's bedroom when I got home, and quite a sight I must have looked compared to when I left earlier. My lace top was totally open, my nipples were clamped, and the skirt I went out in was now hanging from my hand. I didn't really need to state the obvious, but that didn't stop me.
"Guess who's got a big new cock to play with," I boasted.
Martin was lying in bed, and I could just imagine the frustration he'd been experiencing all evening. I'd put him into his larger metal cock cage before I left and it must have been utter torment for him to be unable to play with himself as he visualized what I was up to. Now that I had returned he was probably hoping that I was going to release him and allow him to jerk off while I told him all about my evening, but I had no intention of lessening his distress.
I sat down on the edge of the bed next to him and started pulling at the fingers on my gloves to remove them. I spoke quite matter-of-factly - there's no need for me to goad Martin any more at times like this, and acting unemotionally about what I have been doing is just as effective. I know what the words do to him.
"You'll need to clean these tonight," I said, focusing on the gloves rather than looking directly at him. "The skirt's got cum all down it too, but I'm going to hang that by your bed so you can look at it, and you're not to deal with it until tomorrow morning."
"Come on Maria, take this damn thing off me."
"What, so you can wank yourself and then get some easy sleep? No, I want you tossing and turning all night as you think about me."
Even in the latter half of 2007 Martin was speaking to me differently. It's a little difficult to explain how our relationship has changed over the past couple of years. My husband is still the focus of my universe - all my games revolve around my need to cuckold and humiliate him - but I no longer like him to show the servility that I once demanded when I was in a dominant mood. I think this has come about ever since I started training other submissive men. After having these individuals grovelling before me day after day saying "thank you Mistress" as I beat them, I didn't want more of the same when Martin arrived home - it was simply too tedious when I was dominating him. Today he talks to me quite normally at all times, he makes sarcastic remarks to me about my behaviour (which I really enjoy because he's always been so witty), and we'll have friendly arguments both in private and in public. What he doesn't do though is disobey me; when I give him instructions I still expect them to be carried out without any dissent.
"You'll have to go to work a bit later tomorrow," I continued. "Michael ejaculated in my car and there's quite a lot of cum to clean up. It's on the driver's side too because I got it all over my gloves, so the steering wheel, door handle... well, you get the idea.
"I'll leave it until tomorrow to tell you what happened because I want to go and write up everything while it's still fresh in my mind. Then I'm going to have a very lengthy dildo session, so I don't want you to wake me until after ten tomorrow, okay? I'll take your cage off then and give you a wank before you leave for the office."
Could you sit there compliantly and take this humiliation? My husband endures it every day of his life, but I do wonder these days how much of an ordeal it really is for him. I rather suspect he loves every moment of it when I talk to him like this.
"Did he measure up well for you?"
You couldn't resist asking could you, sweetie. You just have to know.
"Oh yes, and then some. He's not as big as Matt or Nick, but he's bigger than Andy and Chris. That's not the only exciting thing about him though. He's a show-off... he's going to want to be seen in public with me in all the gear. You should have seen his reaction to the leather skirt and the suspenders... he kept going on and on about them. That's why I'm going to be awake half the night; I'm going to be thinking about all the things I want to do with him."
I stood up and dropped the soiled gloves on the side of the bed. Then I pulled the covers back so I could see his caged prick. I shook my head and a small smile came across my face. I didn't need to say what I was thinking; my expression said it all.
I started seeing Michael roughly once every two weeks, almost always at his place of work (he lives too far away to be a regular visitor to my home, and in fact he's only been three times). I judged him very well from that first night with him and I've had some great moments when we've gone out together for lunch and then returned to his office for sex.
Right from the start I found it surprising that he didn't seem to feel the need to hide our relationship. If I go out with a man in public I'm used to clandestine meetings at venues far away from his home or workplace, but in Michael's case I will go to his office and we will often just walk to a bar or restaurant for lunch. He loves having me on display and he likes to frequent places where his professional and social acquaintances can see us together. I have often been introduced to his friends, and it was during one of our early public outings that I met Adam (see Just Another Day - Part II), someone who shares Michael's passion for exhibiting me (if you think I hooked up with Michael quickly you should have seen how it was with Adam - within an hour of meeting me he had my number, with the understanding that he would invite me out for dinner).
Another thing that sets Michael apart is that he likes me to dress in a sluttier style than I would normally choose for daytime wear. I only rarely accommodate this, especially if I think we're likely to bump into anyone he knows, but I must admit that I do get quite a kick when I dress up in this way, and I get to wear some of the outfits that I would normally only put on when I go out at night in hooker mode with Matt. On one occasion though we bumped into an acquaintance of Michael's and goodness only knows what he must have thought. As far as I was concerned that was Michael's problem not mine, but I did wonder how Emily would take it if she ever heard about her husband acting in such a flagrant manner.
Over time I gradually learned more about Michael's home life. He had started a family with Emily when she was still very young, and by the time I met him his two children had already left home. He was in frequent contact with them but they lived too far away for him to see them on a regular basis. With both of them now settled elsewhere I couldn't really see why he was still living with his wife, since he admitted that she knew all about his extramarital affairs. Something didn't quite add up about his relationship with her, but he was always reluctant to talk about the history of his marriage or anything to do with his home sex life (or lack of it) and I certainly didn't pry. He never had an ill word to say about Emily, and in February of last year they even went skiing together for a week - just the two of them. It didn't seem to make sense, although I was hardly one to point a finger considering my own marital situation.
By that same February in 2008 I was allowing Michael to ejaculate into my mouth, something I'd finally permitted when he agreed to have our sessions videoed (he keeps the camera at work permanently, but I take the tapes home with me). This is one of the most tormenting acts that a cuckold husband can witness on film, and I do it in quite varied ways. My views on cum drinking had by then changed quite dramatically from when I first started my online diary. My former dislike of the taste of semen had lessened to mere indifference, and I had done a complete about-turn on texture. I had come to love the slimy, sticky feel of cum on my tongue (especially when it's warm), and rather than swallow it quickly I would now often hold it in my mouth for some time (Alison and I have given each other some awesome cum-kisses, all caught on film). Nowadays I very much enjoy being filmed drinking sperm from a sherry or martini glass, and that includes licking the inside of the glass clean afterwards. I also like doing what I did with Matt in one of the Lights, Camera, Action! scenes - masturbating a man so he ejaculates over a fruit dessert which I'll then theatrically feed myself on camera.
One of the reasons why I eventually require a lover to allow us to be filmed together is because this makes the step to having sex in front of Martin so much easier. At first the session is filmed with no awareness of the camera, but over time I encourage my partner to begin to taunt Martin as I'm being disciplined or serviced, and you had a glimpse of this from Adam in the Just Another Day post. Nevertheless it's still a big deal for a man to have sex with someone else's wife with the husband physically present, and that's even true of someone who is highly arrogant and confident. Michael was always turned on by the idea when I talked about it, but he was adamant that he wouldn't be filmed in a session where Martin was participating in the scene or even visible on camera. I could understand this reticence because he had far more to lose than the three men who had already done this with me a number of times.
Michael is too big for me to consider having anal sex with him, but in the late Spring of 2008 he fucked my pussy for the first time when he stopped at my home on the way back from a conference. The sorts of things I did during that filmed session will largely be covered in other posts, but what made the day so memorable is that it all took place out of doors on our garden patio which is completely screened by trees. Martin was never in the picture at the same time as Michael, but that didn't stop me humiliating him in front of my visitor. Not only is this an integral part of the thrill for me but it removes any last doubts in a lover's mind as to my spouse's submissiveness and lesser status. Michael watched on as I whipped my gagged and handcuffed husband in broad daylight, and then sodomized him with a strapon dildo.
It was disappointing not to have Michael on camera when I did this, because I like to have a lover stand next to me as I'm screwing my husband, fondling and kissing me as I stroke his prick. However I did insist that I wanted to video Martin cleaning me up after I'd been taken, so once Michael had ejaculated into me he went off camera and my husband did his duty. I have a great sequence where I'm standing with one foot raised on a garden chair with my legs wide open and I'm holding Martin by his hair, roughly grinding his face into my pussy as he sucks and licks Michael's cum out of me.
It was a couple of months later when I found a new way of enjoying myself in some lacy white underwear. I was visiting Michael on a very hot sunny day, and this time of year has always been a problem for me. I can't realistically wear black stockings, and a black leather skirt doesn't look right either (I'm actually pretty miffed that the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change has never highlighted the risks to Maria's prick teasing activities from unchecked anthropogenic carbon emissions. Surely this is a graver concern than melting glaciers?). As a consequence I told Michael that I didn't much fancy going out in public that day because I wouldn't get the kick I wanted.
"You should try wearing some white suspenders," he said. "You could get away with that if you had some light coloured stockings on."
"That wouldn't really do it for me," I told him. "I tried wearing that sort of stuff to work just before I quit and I didn't get the excitement from it that I do from my black underwear."
"Could you see them though?"
"Could you see the suspenders through the skirt?"
"Yes, you could see them in profile."
"No, I mean actually see them. I had this assistant quite a while ago...I had to get rid of her eventually because she caused me some trouble, but she used to wear white underwear under her tunic and nothing else. The tunic was very slightly see-through, and you could see her bra and knickers if you looked closely. It was bloody sexy I can tell you."
I laughed at this.
"So did you do her?"
"Damn right I did her, but it became a terrible distraction, although that wasn't why I got rid of her. But anyway, if you could ever get a look like that I'd love to take you out to show you off. I bet you'd really enjoy it..."
The conversation moved on to his problems with his former assistant, but he wasn't very forthcoming. I did think about what he had said when I returned home though. The following day I put on a white garter belt and tried a few lighter-coloured skirts, just to get some idea of what look I could create. I didn't get very far because none of the skirts were see-through, even the one that I removed the lining from. I had just about given up on the idea when I remembered I had a creamy white satin underskirt in one of my bedroom drawers. I hadn't worn it for years, but it was worth a quick try.
I put it on, checking myself in front of the long mirror. The length was great and I got the see-through effect too. When I turned into the light the skirt became totally reflective so all you could see was the shiny white satin. Away from the light however the suspenders underneath became visible, almost brazenly so.
I made myself up properly then, trying to get a feel for how I would look if I seriously went out in such a skirt. I also filmed myself in several locations in the house, all with varying lighting conditions. As I watched the playback of this I realised how risky it would be to wear an outfit like that out of the house. Sometimes the suspenders were so obvious that it would be impossible to conclude that the wearer had unsuspectingly made an unfortunate choice with her skirt material. The even bigger downside though was that the garment looked exactly what it was - an underskirt. With no style and such thin material it could never pass as day wear. But it was tempting, my goodness it was tempting. The thrill I'd get knowing that men were seeing what I was seeing at that moment...
I agonized about it the next day, trying on the skirt again and watching the video runs once more. Believe me, I'm about as gutsy as it comes when exhibiting myself to men, but this would take real steel. As I've explained before, you simply cannot afford to show any embarrassment when displaying yourself in such a way. Any self-consciousness will kill the aura that you project, and not only will the spell be broken for men but women vultures will pick at the carcass of your confidence without a shred of mercy.
In the end I decided it would be going too far to wear something like that in public and I'd just make a fool of myself, but I decided I would wear it when I next visited Michael if it was a hot day again and I didn't feel like going out somewhere. He has a number of car parking spaces at his place of work and this area is surrounded by office buildings. When I park my car I have to walk a short distance to the entrance to his building, and I knew I'd get a big kick from doing so in the short satin underskirt.
It was more exciting than I'd anticipated when I arrived that day. Because it was so hot I'd decided not to wear a bra or panties for once and I'd got myself all turned on during the journey as the skirt had ridden up in the car with my garters totally visible most of the time. I was wearing some white lacy bridal stockings too, totally over the top for public wear but perfect for the look that Michael liked (unfortunately they don't look very sexy at all on video because the lace detail isn't picked up well). I knew someone was almost certain to see me from the offices when I got out at Michael's, and people were walking by in the street too. I hadn't planned on doing so, but I found myself deliberately lingering by the driver's door, ostensibly fiddling around in my handbag. When Maria gets so highly turned on she throws caution to the winds.
I didn't know for sure whether anyone was watching, but I couldn't resist showing off. I put my handbag on the car roof and then I openly lifted the skirt up at the side to adjust one of the garter straps. Damn, I couldn't seem to get it right. Let's try that again shall we... is that it? I can't tell because I can't see properly. I'll have to lift the skirt even higher. Oops, I hope I didn't show that I'm not wearing any panties... that would be highly embarrassing.
Michael loved the outfit and he completely lost it when he heard what I'd done outside. Because of the nature of his profession he gets women arriving regularly throughout the day at his building, and no doubt I would just be viewed as another client. But he revelled in the fact that male workers in the surrounding offices would be green with envy knowing that he had been able to 'interview' such a hot piece of skirt in his private rooms. For a man like him my exhibitionism could only heighten his reputation, and he gave me a fucking to remember as I lay on my back on his large office desk with my legs wrapped tightly around him.
"You've got to wear that out with me," he said as I was tidying myself up afterwards.
"No, don't be silly," I told him. "You can't seriously get away with something like this in public. It's an underskirt... it's hardly fashion is it?"
"Well, to be fair you could say that about some of the other things you've worn with me. It's never bothered you before."
"True," I conceded, "but I have this very powerful self-image when I'm wearing high boots or a leather skirt. I'm supremely confident, and I'm not sure I'd have the same nerve in an outfit like this."
"That's rubbish, and deep down you know it. You're telling me that you wouldn't love it if guys saw those front suspenders on full display? You'd milk it for all it was worth."
"Well maybe that's the problem," I shot back at him. "Judging by how I acted when I arrived here I'm not sure what I'd do if I got too turned on when I'm out. And anyway, there surely must be a line you don't cross, otherwise why don't I just go out in suspenders and stockings without a skirt on?"
"Yes, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn't be as sexy as seeing glimpses of your underwear through the material," he insisted. "It's the suggestion that's the turn on. It tells men that you're hot. Come on Maria, I want to see men looking at you in that gear."
Sheesh, I thought, how many times have I had this conversation over the last fifteen years?
"I don't think so, Michael..."
"Look, you don't have to walk the streets. Let's go for lunch somewhere... somewhere busy with a large bar. You can sit there for a bit on display and then when we sit down to eat I can discreetly play with you. You've got to fancy doing that, surely?"
Oh, you bet I fancied doing that, but I didn't commit myself even though the thought preyed on me during the journey back home.
Two weeks later I returned to see Michael again in much the same outfit. I had panties on this time, and whereas before I had worn a satin blouse with the skirt, I now wore a white halter neck top, the sort of catalogue wear that Michael seems drawn to. We wouldn't be going out anywhere, but I was beginning to feel that I might be able to handle a look like this if it were at the right venue, but only with a proper skirt. Also I knew Michael would try to persuade me again and I wanted to get him worked up so he'd give me the sort of hard, aggressive servicing that I'd received the last time I was with him. That one had looked great on camera when I made Martin watch it.
It was as I walked up to the entrance to his rooms that I had one of those moments that will be embedded in my memory forever. It was like the time I'd visited Martin's mother Grace when my husband had been away - just the briefest of exchanges where more is revealed by expression than by words.
I was in full whore mode as I prepared to walk inside and feel Michael's throbbing cock. My pupils must have been heavily dilated and my glossy lips were tingling with the anticipation of kissing both my lover's mouth and the shiny head of his lovely prick. My pussy was soaking with expectation and the stimulator that was tightly strapped to it had made every step of the short walk from my car to the door an absolute delight. I was as ready for sex as any woman could possibly be.
The great thing about that moment when Michael's wife came out of the door before I reached it is that I didn't flinch or register shock and neither did she. I expect my eyes widened a little, but that was about it. In her case a relatively neutral expression turned into something approaching a wry smile, but she controlled it very well. I knew it was his wife as soon as I set eyes on her even though she looked somewhat different from the photograph I'd seen of her. I felt a rush of adrenaline and I started thinking like crazy, but I surprised myself by being so cool and unflustered, and I didn't hesitate to speak.
"Oh hi," I said brightly, "I've got a twelve thirty appointment with Mr S---------."
It wasnít the smartest of things to say because I had implicitly revealed that I knew she wasnít just another of Michaelís clients leaving after an appointment, but at least I hadn't lied, and my brain was already computing the various outcomes of this moment. It could surely only lead to confrontation, the first time I'd had to deal with a betrayed wife. This was something I had actually always looked forward to and mentally I'd long ago been through all the permutations, even those that led to violence. What I had never considered however was a complete absence of ill will. I was waiting for a scowl to cross Emily's face, but as soon as I said the words her smile became more pronounced and there was clearly mirth in her eyes.
"Oh, I'm sure you have," she replied, and even though her voice was laced with irony there didn't appear to be any malice in it whatsoever.
She looked me up and down, and she took her time about it. I didn't know whether such close study was meant to intimidate me, but I just stood there calmly. I mentally pictured myself as she must be seeing me. Carefully prepared hair and make-up... no bra under a slutty halter top... engorged nipples... visible suspenders through a very short satin skirt... lacy white stockings... high heeled shoes... hmm, maybe something there gave a small clue that this wasn't any normal appointment with her husband. But she already knew that, that much was clear. She was so unbelievably composed though, and the smile never faltered. From her expression I got the feeling that she wasn't so much mocking me as the bizarre situation itself, and her next words seemed to confirm that:
"Oh yes, I can see why he likes you."
It wasn't said with any hint of spite or anger, merely amusement, and her relaxed control made me warm to her immediately. What absolute class, and it was so contrary to my expectations that it totally flummoxed me. My mind went blank and all I could do was try to buy some time:
"I'm sorry?" I said feebly.
I was struck by how attractive and well dressed she was, and the photograph I had seen didn't come close to doing her justice. I knew she was roughly five years younger than Michael, but she had kept herself very well and could easily have passed as being in her mid thirties. She was petite, and although I must have been standing at least eight inches taller than her she had a presence that belied her height.
She didn't repeat what she'd said, and instead took me by surprise again:
"So how much does he pay you? I can tell from the accent that you don't come cheap."
Whoa, hang on there... how do you answer that one? Come on Maria, think! Say something clever! You're getting killed here.
I was about to make an attempt at a cute retort when she gave a light laugh and put her hand on my arm with a friendly touch.
"I'm sorry," she said, "that's very naughty of me and I'm only joking. He's upstairs waiting for you. Have fun."
And that was it. She walked straight past me without another word, and within a few seconds she was gone. I was left standing there speechless; the smart and sharp-witted Maria had just had her butt well and truly kicked.
I made my way up the stairs still shell-shocked, and I found Michael standing at the top. The disorientation must have been written on my face and he looked mortified.
"God I'm so sorry about that," he apologised. "She hardly ever comes here but she turned up just a few minutes before you arrived. I told her that she'd better leave immediately because there was likely to be an embarrassing scene, and she knew exactly what I meant. I can't believe we were so unlucky."
I got it back together quite quickly. "Well, she completely threw me," I said to him. "She didn't seem angry in the least. If anything she found the whole thing quite comical."
He gave me a slightly guilty look then. "Yes, well it's a little complicated," he said sheepishly.
Ooh, this is interesting, I thought. Something told me that Michael's reluctance to talk about his marriage had more to it than met the eye.
I walked into his private office and sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Well, I think you should explain it to me," I said.
"It's not something I really want to talk about Maria," he replied, and the regret in his voice was unmistakable. I maybe should have let things lie at that point, but I wanted to know what was going on. I had to know what was going on.
"Okay, well I think I should go then," I said firmly. "You know an awful lot about my marriage and I know next to nothing about yours, and what just happened has set the alarm bells ringing. I mean, why was she laughing? Have you put me at risk in some way?"
That was actually the first thing that came into my head and I didn't really mean it, but it seemed to do the trick.
"No, no, of course not," he said adamantly, "it's nothing like that."
"Well, what is it then?"
He was pacing the room, clearly agitated. I just sat there quietly and waited for his response. I was still trying to work out what the heck was behind all this.
He gave out a long sigh.
"Look," he began, "Emily and I were very happily married for about ten years when I started here. When I was young I was very much like you said you were - reserved, hard working, and committed to my marriage. I looked at girls like any other man does, but I never had thoughts of straying and I certainly didn't regard myself as being attractive to women. Anyway, I had a great sex life with Emily. She didn't want it constantly like you, but she was always up for it.
"The problems started when I got into my thirties. I'd become very successful and I couldn't avoid the fact that women were coming on to me when they came here. I mean, it was almost embarrassing how they laid it on the table for me, but I still didn't respond. With two young kids and a solid career I didn't want to risk what I had, and Emily meant the world to me. She was my best friend and I loved her."
He crossed his arms as if hugging himself and lowered his head. "I still love her," he said, unable to disguise the emotion.
"The trouble was that I began to enjoy the attention from women, even though I thought I could remain immune to it. Then I made the big mistake... I hired a twenty-five year old assistant here who was really great looking - you remember, the one I told you about who wore just her underwear beneath her tunic. Well I tell you Maria, she had the most fantastic pair of tits you've ever seen in your life. I mean absolutely fucking incredible. It was stupid, stupid, stupid taking her on.
"Anyway, I've got to admit that coming to work each day suddenly became something to really look forward to because I never knew what Kelly - that was her name - was going to be wearing next. I knew she was beginning to dress up deliberately to excite me, but once again I thought I could handle it, and I got a big kick from it. My colleagues were always on about her and I really enjoyed their envy of me. It's a pity Emily never came here much because she would have picked up the signs and put a stop to it."
He stopped pacing and went and sat down behind his desk, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head.
"Well, you can guess what happened... Kelly came to work one day and she had a really low cut bra on. God, I can still see those tits now through the white work coat she was wearing and it just about drove me insane. So yeah, my will broke and I had her. It was bloody brilliant I can tell you, and I got to suck those fantastic breasts and have my prick wanked by them as well.
"I felt guilty as hell, and I had a very bad weekend. I think Emily sensed immediately that something was up, and maybe if I'd come clean at that point I could have saved things. But I kept quiet about it and vowed to get rid of Kelly as soon as I practically could. The trouble was that by the end of the following week I knew I wanted more, and so I had more. And then even more. Within a month or so we were having sex every day, sometimes twice.
He leaned forward in the chair and put his elbows on the desk, holding his face in his hands.
"Oh, what a bloody moron I was! I should have known how it would end. Kelly started making demands - she wanted to share her life with me, have kids with me, I should leave Emily, blah blah blah. It got out of control and I just had to finish it, although I think I knew where it was going because I'd come to realise what a manipulative bitch I was dealing with. So, there we go, she rings Emily up one day and in the space of a two minute phone call my marriage is completely fucked."
I hadn't said a word and I'd put on a serious, concerned face as if I were empathising with his every emotion. Awful as it sounds though, I wasn't particularly moved at all - I was just completely fascinated and hanging on his every word. I was torn between wanting to know what happened next and not wanting the story to end.
He looked at me as if it were my turn to say something, but instead I stared intently at him and kept my mouth shut. It's a negotiating tactic you learn in your first year of deal making: say nothing and let the other side reveal more than they ever intended.
There was another long sigh from him.
"Emily was obviously very, very upset and I thought she'd pack her bags straight away, but she played the gritty, dutiful mother, or so I thought. She wouldn't speak about it and we had this sort of pretence at home that nothing had happened, although there was this constant air between us. I had broken her trust, and it could never be the same with us. I can't tell you how bad I felt. If I could go back now, turn back the clock...
"Things started to get better after three months or so, and I began to hope that it had all been put behind us. I think I loved her more than ever at that point. I had betrayed her... robbed her of her faith in me... but she had forgiven me, or at least understood the temptation that I'd fallen to. How lucky can you be to have a wife like that? We also started having sex again, which really convinced me that things were virtually back to normal. I'd learned my lesson for sure, and I hadn't looked at another woman since we had the initial bust-up."
I knew I was about to get the punch line and I almost didn't want to hear it. It could only be disappointing after the build up.
"About six months later she hit me with it. I'll never forget it. We were out together for a meal on a Friday night, just the two of us, and we had just finished the main course. She said it almost in passing, like she was telling me the washing machine had broken or something. She didn't even look at me, but it wasn't because she was ashamed to. It was just like it meant nothing.
"Oh, by the way, there's something you should know," she said. "I'm seeing someone else." I suppose it was some sort of sweet revenge... she wanted me to experience the same shock that she had. And believe me, it worked. I was devastated. I mean, I should have been understanding and accepted it better than I did, but I couldn't. It was like she'd poured acid over me. The jealousy I felt, the turmoil... knowing that someone else was... was..."
His words trailed off and he couldn't bring himself to say it. I thought he might be in danger of stopping then, but I wanted to know more. A lot more.
"Did she tell you who she was seeing?"
"Yeah, she did. Well, at first she just told me it was someone she'd met when she was picking Alex up from school... some divorced parent. But I found out who he was in the end. His name's Stuart. He's an architect."
"How long had it been going on for?"
"Roughly a couple of months I think. She was very secretive about it. After she told me about it she very rarely ever mentioned it, and I never knew when she was seeing him. It must have been during the day when the kids were at school because she never went out in the evenings."
"And yet you stayed together..."
"Yes, we did. We had the kids to consider of course. And deep down I was hoping that it was a tit-for-tat thing that wouldn't last - you know, a slap on the wrist for me - and at one point I thought she might have ended it. But then she started refusing to have sex with me, so I knew she was still seeing him. I put up with it for nearly twelve months, but I couldn't handle the frustration. I started seeing someone too, but I didn't tell Emily, although I'm sure she knew. It was weird really. We'd go out together to dinner parties, kids' concerts, the cinema - and most days we still had a very friendly relationship. It was like nothing had really happened between us, except we were now both getting sex elsewhere.
"Things changed as soon as both the kids were at university. When they were away she started going out two or three nights a week, and she sometimes didn't come home until the following day. She also began sleeping in the guest room. Now that the kids have left for good this has pretty much become the permanent state of affairs. At the same time though we'll still go out together and when we get home she'll share my bed with me. She won't have intercourse with me, but she'll give me a hand job while she uses a vibrator. We still have a great time together in bed... you know, talking to each other as well as the touching... and she never mentions him."
"And you're still hoping she'll come back to you," I said. It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, I am. If she ever broke off with him then I'd stop seeing anyone else."
He knew that comment wouldn't offend me. Michael and I have no emotional attachment and it's not as if I haven't got other friends to play with.
There's another aspect to this account of my lover's marriage that makes everything far more poignant, but I don't feel I can reveal the details here. Irrespective of that, I found the whole history a huge turn on. I probably wouldn't make a very good counsellor because I didn't find myself sympathising with him very much. For one thing, I wasn't convinced he'd been totally honest about the Kelly situation. I know Michael, and I'm willing to bet that he felt the need to show his big-breasted young assistant to his friends, or at least let them know that he was having her. No, he was an adulterer who wanted the best of both worlds and he got caught with his pants down.
As for Emily... well, I could see why I had immediately liked her in the very brief exchange we had when I arrived. What a woman; what an absolute inspiration. Even though Michael didn't seem to be able to see it, I knew that she was a sister cuckoldress even though she played a far more subtle and sophisticated game than mine. I don't doubt for a moment that her life nearly fell apart when she found out her husband had cheated on her, but instead of lying down and letting it destroy her she stayed strong; she held it together both for herself and her children.
She still loved her husband and wanted to be with him too, that I also didn't doubt, and why give up the comfortable lifestyle and wealth he provides? But she didn't forgive, and although many would never countenance seeking payback for being wronged in such a way, I can't say I wouldn't have done something similar. It was so methodical too, so clinical and calculated. She waited all that time through her children's adolescence to really put the knife in, and even better, her husband was apparently clueless to the manipulation. How can men be so dumb sometimes? The vibrator is Stuart's prick, you sap. I daren't ask Michael whether Emily made him kiss the sex toy after she had climaxed with it, or even better fucked his ass with it while she jerked him off. I'd lay big money that she does something along those lines. Oh, you clever, clever woman.
In case you think I'm drawing a false conclusion here, in the few seconds that I met her I saw the reality. You can feign smiles, you can pull all sorts of expressions to mislead, but you can't hide the truth in your eyes. Emily's eyes didn't hold pain, anger, sorrow or hate... only pleasure. The enjoyment of knowing that you're mind-fucking your husband and getting plenty of extramarital sex as a bonus. Yep, she gets my vote and she should write a book on it.
That's what I feel I know for sure, but let me add some speculation as well. My reading of this is that Emily originally did indeed merely want to give her errant husband a taste of his own medicine; she wanted him to feel the pain that she had felt. The fact that she started having sex with Michael again in spite of his adultery tells me that she initially didn't have any long term plan to make him suffer, and I expect her eye-for-an-eye revenge was her way of coping with the betrayal. However, once she started her affair with Stuart she not only found her new lover's attentions more satisfying than she anticipated, but she also began to enjoy pulling her spouse's strings. Men are largely uncomplicated and highly predictable and it's all too easy to become hooked on the drug of manipulating them (trust me, I should know). In the end even the joy of having sex with Michael was something that she could resist, because the pleasure of denying him the one thing he wanted most and tormenting him by giving it to another man gave her an even bigger kick.
If I'm right then I expect Michael still has the worst to come of his wife's retribution. Ten years from now he'll no doubt still be an attractive man but he won't be the same catch he is today. He'll be feeling his age, and his need to display younger women to his friends will increasingly be motivated by insecurity rather than a powerful sexual appetite. Meanwhile Emily will have been taking care of herself very well indeed. She'll still look great, she'll be dressing more alluringly than ever for her age, and Stuart will probably have been replaced by a younger companion or she may even have added an additional lover or two to her stable. Michael will discover that the acid she poured over him all those years ago is still burning its way towards his heart.
I have never revealed this to Michael. It's not my business to share any of these thoughts with him and I would be a fool to get involved. One of the problems with a post like this is that it can make an individual seem a centrepiece of my life, someone that I spend my time caring about and guiding. But Michael is merely another man I see for two or three hours every couple of weeks, and the only consideration I'll really give to him is what I'll be wearing when I see him and how I want to have sex with him. It's as impersonal as that I'm afraid; it has to be like this so I will never find it hard to let go.
"Well, thanks for finally explaining things to me," I said with as much sincerity as I could muster. "An awful lot of things make sense now."
He sat there looking quite glum, and yet I was on heat. I wasn't going to have my visit ruined by him wallowing in self-pity and I certainly wasn't going to play the agony aunt. What was done was done, and I figured I might as well take advantage of it. I felt I knew how to get him back on track, and if it didn't work the worst he could do was send me packing.
I eased myself back in the chair, opened my legs and put my hands up my skirt, massaging the clit stimulator slowly. "You haven't got Stuart's number have you?" I said as I closed my eyes as if fantasising.
"You what?" he said in surprise.
"Well, I'm amazed Emily doesn't want that beautiful hard cock of yours any more, so I can only think Stuart must be giving her something even better. I thought maybe... you know..."
At least that raised a laugh from him. "Nice try, sunshine," he said.
"You think I'm kidding," I continued as I lowered myself even further and began to grind myself on the chair as I rubbed with my hand. "Don't you wonder what he's doing to her? Don't you imagine her kneeling in front of him with his big hard prick in her mouth?"
"That's enough, Maria. Not funny now."
"...or maybe it's not so big... maybe it's just the perfect size for an anal fuck. I won't take your prick in my arse and I bet Emily never has either. But she might take Stuart's... yeah, I bet she's on the way to see him now. She'll be lying there in bed with his dick in her backside while he strokes her pussy and tits with his hands."
"Seriously, I mean it. Enough."
I stood up and bent over his desk, holding both hands between my legs so I could continue the massage.
"I'm not so sure about you now," I goaded. "I bet you can't spank me like he spanks Emily. I bet she screams for more when he beats her, driving her so wild her pussy is dripping over the floor. And then he fucks her from behind when he's finished."
I looked up at him and his eyes were ablaze. Anger and lust. Put those two together in the right combination and you get the best fucking imaginable.
He undid his belt and I thought he was about to undo his trousers, but he actually pulled the strip of leather out of the belt loops and folded it over on itself into his right hand. I nearly came just at the very thought of what he was going to do.
"You asked for it," he said.
Michael had used a belt on me before, but nothing like as hard. This was almost as severe as the thrashing that Matt had given me when I arrived back from my business meeting with Robert. I was expecting some sort of verbal admonishment while he beat me - that's what my lovers normally do because they know it turns me on - but he was silent, and all I heard was the smack of the leather hitting my rear and his grunts of effort. Then I heard his zipper being undone and his grunts got louder. I couldn't see, but I knew he was masturbating as he beat me.
I don't know how many times he struck me because unfortunately we hadn't got the video camera set up, but it was probably some twenty-five whacks in all. It sounded so loud that I'm sure it must have been audible in the street below. I climaxed about two thirds of the way through, and by the time he yielded it felt as though my backside was on fire. He chucked the belt to one side then, roughly pulled off my panties and took my pussy from behind, vigorously pumping his hugely swollen prick in and out of me. This wasn't lovemaking, it was a punishment fuck, and I loved every moment of it even though I felt it for the next couple of days. It took a while for the stripes on my rear to go too because I hadn't been protected by my leather briefs.
I've used the same tactic on him since, but I don't overplay it. It genuinely hurts him to be reminded of his marriage and I have to tread carefully. But we have incredible sex when I can rile him to just the right level. There's nothing like jealousy to make an alpha male perform to his peak, which is why I'm really looking forward to my lovely boyfriend Matthew reading this post. All that frustration channelled through his cock... you should try it sometime girls.
The blurred pictures above were captured from video we shot at Michael's premises the first time I wore my satin underskirt for him. At first I sat on his knee and we talked dirty as he fondled me, and after that I accommodated him orally for some twenty minutes, interrupting my fellatio periodically to talk some more. He didn't come in my mouth on that occasion but instead ejaculated over my face and breasts (I like to drive home with strands of cum in my hair and my blouse still wet with semen).
Like all my lovers, Michael is able to perform well again soon after ejaculation and he later gave me a wonderful fucking over his office desk. Men like to think they get as hard again after a first ejaculation but I've yet to meet a guy who does, although most of my alphas get very close. Compare this with my husband who struggles to maintain an erection even before his first release. This is another quality that sets superior males apart from the also-rans.
I didn't put the above compendium on my pages gratuitously. If I wanted to excite you with explicit imagery I could do much, much better than this and I guarantee you will never have seen or even dreamed of some of the kinky scenarios Alison and I have devised. No, once again what I'd like you to do whenever I post these little montages is to try to put yourself in Martin's shoes; try to imagine what it's like for him when he's at work and he knows his wife is out somewhere doing things like this.
This sort of clothed sex has always appealed to me, perhaps because I spent so many years sitting in front of businessmen in sexy underwear with a rubber cock harnessed into me, all the time dreaming of masturbating and mouthing my client. It's worth remembering that scenes like this are happening all around the world every day as women maximize their promotion prospects or simply get hungry for a bigger, harder prick than they're getting at home.
For those of you who dream of being cuckolded, imagine that it's your wife in the pictures and she's doing this with her boss at work, or she's at home with one of your friends while you're busy earning enough to pay the mortgage. How would you feel? What would it do to you inside to know that she prefers getting it from him rather than you? And once you've thought that through, consider what emotions you would experience if you discovered she was seeing not one, but two, or even three men at the same time.
Think you could handle that? Yeah, I know you do. I know from all the mail I get what most of you think and dream of. But just wait until she comes home from her night out with a glow of satisfaction that you've never seen before. Or when you hear her moans and cries from the bedroom across the hallway as he gives her what you can't. Then we'll find out how well you deal with it.
It's a tough school I can assure you, and never forget one thing: I'm on her side.
I never did wear the satin skirt in public last year, despite more urgings from Michael. I have no intention of wearing it either, but I decided to try to exact a price for any acquiescence to my lover's wishes. I've told him that I'll wear the skirt this summer if he allows Adam to join us when we go out, and afterwards I want a threesome in Michael's office. I think there's a fair chance that this will happen. I know Michael is highly turned on by the idea of doing me with another man at the same time and I think desire will overcome apprehension eventually. The same goes for Adam; he loves being sucked by me, but he now desperately wants to screw both my pussy and arse and this would be his ticket to do so. He already knows Michael too, which is a big advantage.
If my two lovers agree to do this I'm going to need something better than my satin underskirt. I really like the visible suspenders effect and it would give me something to look forward to in the summer, so it's a case of finding the right outfit. Martin found a cartoon drawing for me a few months ago which has encouraged me to try harder. It shows a very attractive, haughty young woman wearing a stylish couture outfit with her suspenders showing blatantly through her skirt. Unfortunately I don't know which artist to attribute it to, but that sort of look might work well for someone of my height and figure.
Maybe I'll show you if I come across anything suitable. And who knows, you might even see me wearing it in the street.
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