Entering our kitchen, I found my wife, Andrea and her boss, Danielle, leaning against the worktop, giggling thick as thieves.
“Hi, darling,” Andrea said enthusiastically.
“Hello, Adam, how are you?” was Danielle’s somewhat cooler greeting.
I cursed to whichever deity was listening because, after a hard day’s work building roofs at twenty-five-plus degrees, my hair was squashed flat from the safety helmet, and my face and arms were covered in sawdust and sweat. The stench of hard graft carried far enough for both women to wrinkle their noses, and for a moment, I felt like an oaf, which was regrettable because Andrea and Danielle both looked immaculate in their chic office attire. And they definitely smelled a damn sight better than me.
Although my opinion is not strictly impartial, Andrea looked highly fuckable in a crisp white blouse, tight fashionable trousers, and red heels. Knowing the sort of lingerie she usually wears, I felt a twinge in my denim shorts and wished we were alone. However, despite my unconditional love for Andrea, my gaze drifted towards her boss, and I was powerless to stop it. A former model, Danielle retained the X-factor that had brought her fame and fortune, and although she was ten years older than Andrea, she made my beautiful wife look like a plain Jane.
Whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness might have been right, but when looking at Danielle, it was evident that being extremely wealthy could make life easier. She was the living embodiment of the idea that money talks. The silk burgundy blouse and mid-thigh black skirt cost more than I made in a month, and, in comparison, Andrea’s expensive business suit looked like it had just come out of the tumble dryer.
Then there was the jewellery.
With sunlight pouring through the windows, I was nearly blinded by the reflection from the sparkling diamonds in her ears, around her neck, and on several fingers. They weren’t cubic zirconia; they were the real McCoy. Although I’m not a fashion expert, even I could see that her clothing budget would have bankrolled a third-world country, and the souped-up Sports Range Rover sitting in our driveway was definitely on my bucket list.
Of course, being wealthy enough to buy anything one’s heart might desire is all very well, but there are some things that can’t be bought, and natural beauty is rare and priceless. And the type of beauty Danielle possessed has inspired artists and bards to create masterpieces for centuries. Christ, when she’s around, even I feel inspired to put pen to paper.
Having started out as a spiky-haired, pixie-faced model famous for changing her appearance like a chameleon, Danielle’s fame and bank balance soon grew. But it was always a means to an end. Her goal was to develop her own fashion chain before her modelling career ended — and, fast forward ten years, there’s no doubt she’d succeeded. Now, instead of the catwalk, this CEO of a multi-million-pound fashion empire prowled the boardroom even though she could still give many younger models a run for their money.
When Andrea told me she was applying for the position of Financial Director at “Van Trip,” I was curious and Googled the company. That’s when I first set eyes on Danielle. Having never been particularly concerned about fashion, my opinion of the industry wasn’t very complimentary; however, after visiting the internet, my viewpoint was somewhat altered. Although I still thought fashion was a waste of time, the pictures of Danielle in states of dress and undress certainly made an impression on me. It was evident that she had no qualms about exposing her body for the cameras, and it was easy to see how she’d gained supermodel status so young: The combination of natural beauty and sex appeal is a hard one to beat.
I won’t deny having the occasional fantasy about jumping Danielle’s bones, but I’d never betray my wife’s trust, and obviously, I’d never mention it to Andrea. Despite working in an industry famous for its liberal thinking, she is old-fashioned regarding marriage vows and being faithful. Plus — and I hate to admit it — I knew Danielle wasn’t attracted to me.
Whenever our paths crossed, luckily not very often, she basically regarded me as part and parcel of Andrea’s baggage. She wasn’t rude or hostile, but I got the impression Danielle would prefer it if I just somehow disappeared out of sight. Even now, in the informal sphere of our kitchen, her irritated glances made it obvious she wanted me to leave her alone with Andrea. However, it’s my house, and I’ll come and go where I please, and if my presence makes Danielle uncomfortable… tough luck.
Noticing the lusty spark in my eyes, Andrea’s expression instantly switched from lively excitement to nervous trepidation. I’d seen that change before, and, despite the clear blue skies outside, I knew a storm was on the horizon.
“Hi, gorgeous,” she said. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m booked on this evening’s flight to Milano. Our distributor has threatened to back out of the deal unless we pay him more. So I’m going there to sort it out.”
“Shit,” I exclaimed, realising my plans for a romantic weekend break with my wife were suddenly null and void. Knowing nothing I could say would make the slightest difference, my shoulders dropped. “Great, when do you leave?”
Andrea smiled ingratiatingly on hearing my flat tone. “I’m sorry, Darling, but this problem is a priority, and has to be sorted out before Monday.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” I snapped, trying but failing to contain my disappointment.
“My flight’s in a couple of hours, Danielle’s here to take me to the airport. If everything goes to plan, I can get the first flight out of Milano on Sunday morning and be back in time to bring you breakfast in bed. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Then she gave me a smile that wives only offer to their husbands.
Wanting to scream at the injustice of the situation, I stared at both of them, but there was nothing I could do. Andrea’s expression told me enough. I knew her well enough by now, and once she’d decided something, there was no use trying to change her mind. So I didn’t bother.
Glancing at Danielle, it was pleasing to see that she dared not look me in the eye.
“Great, just effing great,” I huffed, turning on my heel. “I’m going to take a shower.”
oØo
Given Andrea’s position and importance in Danielle’s company, you might be forgiven for asking if I needed to work. Well, financially speaking, I don’t, but like most men, I have my pride, and being a houseman just doesn’t cut the mustard. And despite being just as qualified as she, we both studied accounting at university, after graduating, I took a job as a carpenter. Andrea readily accepted my decision, and despite being clearly dependent on her to maintain our very comfortable standard of living, I still believe that what I do actually matters. Besides, financial security isn’t the only important thing in life. Working in construction has transformed me from a potential couch potato to a hunky beefcake, and in the summer, I have a great tan. Something Andrea often comments on whenever we get the chance to shower together.
However, it’s not always a bed of roses; there’s a downside to being married to a career woman. More often than not, I arrive home to an empty house — thank God for microwave meals — and, occasionally, I find a note informing me she’s accompanying Danielle on a business trip to some far-flung part of the world. Messages like that cause the bile to rise, because deep down, I honestly fear that if Andrea had to choose between Danielle and me, I would come a poor second best.
They’ve forged a tight friendship over the years, and whatever Danielle wants, she gets. If toes are stepped on, then so be it: people shouldn’t have such big feet. (Mine are a size eleven and a half.) During a heated discussion — a blazing row, really — I asked Andrea if Danielle had ever considered my feelings when she issued her decrees. She never answered me, but I felt my heart freeze under my wife’s icy glare.
oØo
With nothing better to do on Saturday, I slept in until I got bored, did some chores around the house and mowed the lawn. After showering, I put on a t-shirt and jogging pants and spent the rest of the afternoon binge-watching movies.
At about eight o’clock, I was halfway through the Avengers Endgame film and contemplating whether I should order a pizza when the doorbell rang. Cursing whoever was disturbing me, I hoisted myself from the couch. As I made my way towards the front door, the annoying ring resounded repeatedly throughout the hallway.
“I was about to give up on you,” Danielle announced acidly when I eventually opened the door.
Seeing her dressed in tight, white riding breeches and a loose, off-the-shoulder sweater, she looked stunning — enough to cause my prick to twitch, and my train of thought was momentarily derailed. Then she held up a plastic bag, which emitted a delicious curry aroma, and my question was partially answered. All in all, it was an unexpected turn of events, and I felt like I’d landed in the Twilight Zone, but before I could speak, Danielle barged past, treating me to a withering glance as she continued her tirade. “And maybe I should have,” she spat, leaving me in the open doorway, wondering what the hell was happening. After casting a wistful glance at the expensive Range Rover parked behind my builder’s van, I closed the door and watched Danielle’s delightful derriere disappear towards our kitchen. With nothing better to do, I followed the fading scent of chicken Tandoori and Chanel Number 5.
“What are you doing, Danielle?” I asked, watching her rummaging in one of the kitchen units.
“Don’t just stand there; grab some dishes before this food gets cold,” she ordered, hands in the cutlery drawer and ignoring my question. Still in a daze, I set a couple of plates on the breakfast bar, and almost immediately, the rich aroma of the subcontinent filled my nostrils. My rumbling stomach reminded me that I hadn’t eaten all day, and I decided explanations could wait.
Surprisingly, at least for me, Danielle seemed to be enjoying herself, and I watched her serve up the food as if it was something she did every day. As we ate in silence, my thoughts returned to my earlier question of what she was doing here, and my bemusement steadily grew as this successful businesswoman constantly checked her iPhone like some lovesick teenager. Unable to think of anything better to say, I asked if she was expecting a call.
“Nooo, but Andrea has been keeping me in the loop with the negotiations all day.”
Danielle then showed me text messages she’d received from my spouse. Finding this unusual for my ordinarily confident wife, I asked why Andrea felt the need to keep Danielle constantly informed.
“Sergio de Vincenzo is an arsehole,” declared Danielle. “He might be part of the fashion industry’s royalty, but he’s a first-class shit. Even though he’s signed the contract, the bastard’s reneging on the deal, and Andrea’s there to explain what a breach of contract will cost him. But because of who and what he is, Sergio thinks he can screw us over. The fact that he’s an integral part of Italy’s fashion industry means Andrea has a lot more respect for the scumbag than she should. So, instead of following her intuition and telling him to go fuck himself, she’s a bit anxious and needs some reassurance.”
Seemingly satisfied with her explanation, Danielle emptied her wine glass and held it for me to provide a refill.
“That doesn’t sound like Andrea,” I said, feeling uncertain for my wife.
Danielle smiled warmly. “I know, Adam, but you’ve never had to negotiate with Sergio de Vincenzo; I have.” Her smile broadened, and her eyes sparkled. “He’s a sharp-nosed businessman when he wants to be, but he’s also a lecherous wolf and tends to think with his dick.” She wiggled her glass impatiently. “And I know he has a thing for your wife. During our last negotiations, he was constantly trying to get into her knickers, and I’m guessing he’ll make another attempt this weekend.”
Hoping I’d misheard, I stared at Danielle as if she’d just confessed to being madly in love with me.
“Oh, relax… Andrea’s a big girl and she can take care of herself,” she said as I stood up to fetch the bottle of wine. “Or don’t you trust her?”
That barbed inquiry made it plain she was baiting me, and as I started refilling her wine glass, Danielle raised an eyebrow, a gesture that set me off.
“What are you suggesting—”
An elegant hand raised in a gesture of surrender interrupted my angry outburst. “I’m not suggesting anything, Adam. All I’m saying is that Andrea evidently has something Sergio wants, and he’s not the type of man to accept ‘no’ easily.”
As Danielle’s words sank in, I was aware of her amusement at my prudish reaction. A small, wispy smile appeared.
“You’re a trained accountant, do the math.” She glanced at the Rolex on her wrist. “It’s ten in Milan, Sergio has finished the main course, and now he’ll want his dessert.”
The cruel sparkle in her eyes certainly didn’t alleviate my concerns.
“How well do you know this man?” I demanded, hoping Danielle’s answer would calm my nerves.
Before she could reply, her iPhone beeped, and I watched nervously as long, delicate fingers danced across the touchscreen. Then she started tapping the screen rapidly, and my anxiety grew.
“A problem?”
Danielle smirked before shaking her head. “Nothing Andrea can’t handle.”
I frowned. “What are you implying?”
“Sergio is a lech and sometimes he forgets his manners, and when he’s in the company of pretty females, his hands tend to wander. It’s nothing serious, but—”
I felt my blood boil as Danielle swiped her iPhone several times. Then she showed me a picture of my antagonist.
“Definitely a smarmy bastard,” I said with a loathing that bordered on the psychotic.
“You’re not wrong, Adam, and having grudgingly capitulated to a woman, Sergio will be determined, more than ever to get something in return, something of a more personal nature, to restore his macho image.”
Suddenly, her phone beeped again, and a small envelope appeared in the notification bar. Danielle opened the message, and after reading it, she showed it to me.
“Fucking hell Danielle, Sergio’s had his hand in my knickers three times now. The dirty bastard won’t take no for an answer, and I’m that turned on; I’m tired of playing hard to get.”
My stomach churned as I read the message. “Why are you letting me see this, Danielle?” I demanded, my mind reeling as the reality of the words sank in.
“Why not? I’ve nothing to hide.” She smiled like a pampered Siamese cat. “I’m not the one married to you.”
“Does Andrea know you’re here?”
Danielle raised the wine glass to her lips and grinned before shaking her head. “No,” and then she belched belligerently like a bawdy mariner.
“Sorry, Adam, that wasn’t very ladylike,” she giggled, “but then again, I’ve never professed to be one. Anyway, I was bored and because Andrea had to bail on your romantic weekend on my behalf, I thought I might come and see how you were doing…”
She looked into my eyes and produced a sly smile. “I mean, it’s not fair that she’s gallivanting around Milano, having fun and games with Sergio while you waiting here all alone for her return.” Then, seductively pouting her lips, she giggled again. “Well, who knows what might happen.”
Not sure what to think, I stared solemnly at her and attempted to control the rising bile. Danielle’s beeping phone interrupted my dark thoughts, and after reading the text, she set the device on the breakfast bar and treated me to her famous smile. “It seems someone is losing the battle of wills in Milano.”
“What d’you mean?”
Danielle waggled a finger. “Hmmm, I’m not sure I should tell you. Andrea might consider that a betrayal of her trust.”
“If nothing is going on, how could you betray her trust?” I retorted, but was annoyed I’d allowed Danielle to draw me into her game.
Studying me intently, the former model seemed to come to a decision. She slid from the barstool, moved behind me, and held the cell phone in front of my eyes. Aware of her perfect breasts pressing against my back and the exotic perfume teasing my senses, I watched her open the latest text message: ‘Sergio made me cum while feeding me gelato. Fuck, his fingers felt so good.’
As a blinding rage swelled inside me, I swallowed hard, trying to contain my dignity.
“Is that what you wanted to see, Adam?” Danielle asked, her soft, sensual tone stroking me. Then she began typing a reply.
‘Dirty little slag, tell me more.’ Danielle added a smiling cat emoji and pressed send.
Andrea’s text was disturbing, and Danielle’s reply even more so, but feeling the ex-model’s hand reach for my growing bulge after she’d pressed send, really took the wind from my sails. I was about to ask her, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” when the phone beeped again.
‘Sergio won’t take no for an answer. He’s got his cock out now.’
As I read that disturbing text, slender fingers encircled my manhood. “I’ll answer this,” Danielle giggled, lifting the phone to her lips while tightening her grip on my growing erection.
Then she spoke. “Has he demanded you remove your knickers?”
Because my head was full of conflicting emotions, it took me a moment to fully realise Danielle was dictating her message into the iPhone. When I raised an inquiring eyebrow, she explained that she hadn’t wanted to remove her hand from my prick.
It didn’t take long for Andrea to reply: ‘Yes, they’re already in his pocket, but he wants to see my lips around the base of his cock.’
Danielle’s reply was to the point: ‘Enjoy yourself, slut. I know I will.’
oØo
“Don’t you find it a turn-on knowing another man desires your wife, that he wants to take her, possess her in the most basic way?” Danielle whispered in my ear before nibbling my lobe. “Your rock hard cock is turning me on something rotten.”
“Uh-huh,” was the feeble best I could summon with my mind in turmoil. Shock and anger at discovering how easily Andrea could forget her vows were countered by how quickly my resistance subsided when Danielle’s deft hands freed my erection from my jogging pants.
Feeling her long, elegant fingers wrapped around my hard flesh was a fantasy come true, and her gentle manipulations felt incredible.
“Will he—” was all I croaked, unpalatable thoughts causing me to choke on my words.
“Will who what?” Danielle teased.
“Will Sergio fuck Andrea?” I said quickly, not wanting but needing to hear the truth.
Danielle’s soft chuckle clearly indicated that my misery wasn’t a concern for her. “Almost certainly,” she said, “if Andrea lets him. Sergio has given his personal assurance that our deal will be honoured, even though he was the shit who threatened to break it, but he’ll expect something in return, a personal gesture from your wife. Personal gestures are very important to our Sergio, and it seems like Andrea is enjoying this part of the negotiations.”
Despite the raging turmoil in my head, the throbbing erection sticking out of my jogging pants proved that my body could function even if I wasn’t sure what I should be doing. Then, as if trying to take my mind off the situation in Milan, Danielle released my cock and ordered me to turn around and face her. I stood to obey.
“Stop,” she commanded, raising her hand as I was about to sit back down. “Let’s get rid of these.”
In one swift movement, she fell to her haunches and yanked at my jogging pants. After studying my erection for what seemed like a long time, Danielle raised her gaze to my face. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Hmmm, Andrea said you had a nice cock… and she wasn’t kidding.” Without further ado, Danielle began tugging it furiously while standing upright and planting her lips on mine. Our tongues fought a battle, but I was on the back foot, and her ferocity was overwhelming. It was like kissing a tigress.
In the background, a familiar beeping heralded another text message, but neither of us wanted to be the first to cave.
“Danielle, are you going to see what Andrea wants?” I gasped, eventually conceding defeat.
“No, I want to taste you,” she said breathlessly before dropping to her haunches again. Looking down, I held my breath as Danielle’s mouth engulfed my swollen dome. Despite feeling like I’d landed in the Twilight Zone, I felt soft, sultry lips slide down my erection while the unread text niggled in my brain.
“Please Danielle, I need to know what my wife is doing,” I demanded, my thoughts tormented and excited by lurid images that were hurling around my imagination.
Even as I spoke, I realised I was acting like a crazy person, and silently scolded myself. If I ever suggested that Andrea stop giving me a blowjob while I checked her phone, it would be a long time before she went down on me again. Happily, Danielle was more amused than annoyed by my anxieties, and after wiping her mouth with the back of her arm, she stood and faced me.
“Here,” she barked, unlocking her phone with a swipe of her finger. “Be careful what you wish for, Adam; you might not like what you see.” Without another word, Danielle dropped to her knees and resumed the lavish attention she’d already bestowed on my manhood.
‘On my way to the restroom. Sergio is with me, his cock pointing the way.’
As I groaned like a wounded bear, Danielle stopped sucking and treated me to the most hated smile in the world: the I-told-you-so smile. She gestured to her iPhone. “Give me that thing.”
After typing a few words, Danielle took a selfie of herself deep-throating me. Apparently satisfied with the photograph, she pressed send and handed me the device. The picture wasn’t half bad — but her caption sent shivers down my spine: ‘Have you done this to Sergio yet?’
The reply took only a few seconds and confirmed my worst fears.
‘Yes, briefly at the table. Now I’m going to finish what I started.’
It was then that I noticed Danielle staring at me. “I warned you, but you didn’t listen. Now you know.”
“Know what?” I snapped
“That your lovely, attractive, intelligent and successful wife is also a dirty little scrubber.”
“Says her best friend, who currently has my cock in her hand.”
“Ah, touché, but my hand is not the only place I intend to have your cock.”
Danielle stood and kissed me passionately. To my amazement, while I was still savouring the taste of her lips, she stepped back and removed her loose sweater and tight leggings, revealing the famous body that had adorned thousands of magazine pages. It took me a few seconds to realise Danielle wasn’t wearing a bra or panties, and seeing me go wide-eyed must have tickled her fancy. Moving back between my legs, she treated me to a warm smile.
“Ah-ha, Adam, I see you approve. You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. It would have spoilt everything if you hadn’t found me attractive. Now stop worrying about Andrea.”
At the mention of my wife, I couldn’t help frowning. “Oh, stop pouting, Adam; it doesn’t become you. Andrea is enjoying herself, so why shouldn’t we have some fun together? Besides, you’re so much more handsome when you smile.”
And that was my conundrum in a nutshell.
On one hand, a fantasy was coming true, and I smiled like a village idiot. But when I thought about what was happening in Italy’s fashion capital, I automatically frowned.
Then the damn phone beeped again. Before I could react, Danielle grabbed it and quickly turned her back to me. As she planted her exquisite derriere against my rock-hard erection, I swore everything was happening much too fast.
Danielle rocked her hips from side to side, and slowly but surely, her anal crack enveloped my throbbing flesh, only stopping when I pressed against something cold and hard. Surprised, I grabbed Danielle’s buttocks and parted them. Momentarily stunned, I looked at a pink heart-shaped crystal perched snugly in Danielle’s butt, and a million possibilities flashed through my brain.
While all sorts of scenarios coursed through my mind, one thought dominated: unbelievable as it may seem, if Danielle had come here wearing a butt plug, she hadn’t intended to discuss the weather. Such an intimate gesture was a definite declaration of intent. Not wanting Danielle to think I was a complete doofus, I decided to take a more active role.
Resting my chin on her shoulder, I reached around and cupped one of her breasts while slipping my other hand between her thighs. I hadn’t realised how turned on Danielle was until I slid my fingers across the neat patch of pubic hair towards her swollen clit. Fuck, she was dripping wet, and sweet nectar coated the tops of her thighs.
While Danielle played with the phone, I played with her, my fingertips tracing her juicy slit until her lips parted like the Red Sea. Never one to turn down an open invitation, I increased the pressure on Danielle’s hot, steamy sex and her silken tunnel gripped me. With my cock throbbing against the buttplug, I roughly fingered her while Danielle begged me not to stop, spreading her feet and resting her hands mid-thigh. Her head flopped, long blonde hair dangling like a fine curtain.
“Oh God, yes, Adam, I’m so close. Please, please… make me cum.”
I wasn’t going to waste my chance. I continued ramming fingers into her slippery cunt while teasing her clit with my other hand. Moaning and whimpering unapologetically, I guessed Danielle’s climax was close, and a few seconds later, amidst violent shuddering and wild sobs, my wife’s boss came fiercely. Sweet nectar swamped my fingers as Danielle thrust her perfect bum repeatedly against my erection while crying out my name. Eventually, as her orgasm finally subsided, I momentarily eased the pressure on her swollen clit.
Funny the results a finger wiggle can produce, and after one amazing aftershock, Danielle swore and pleaded with me to stop. Feeling like the cat who’d licked up all the cream, I instinctively knew Danielle would refuse me nothing — if I dared to ask.
“I’ll teach you to tease me, Mr Perfect Husband,” Danielle exclaimed and stood, turning to face me. She held up her phone, and I saw that Andrea had replied to the deepthroat selfie with one of her own. It looked like Sergio de Vincenzo had taken the photo because in it, Andrea was on her knees, and her cherry-red lips were clamped firmly around his engorged manhood. The caption simply said, ‘Hello Danielle.’
Although angry and hurt, the image was highly arousing, and my cock throbbed.
“Has Sergio ever had you?” I asked, calmly looking Danielle in the eye.
She nodded without batting an eyelid, never once avoiding my stare. “Yes, but I was much younger then, star struck and desperate to become a supermodel. He knew that and took advantage of my ambition, offering to make me his new campaign model if I slept with him. To be fair, he kept his side off the bargain, which doesn’t always happen, and for the cost of spreading my legs, he helped me become the woman I am today. And before you ask, yes it was a very good shag, but then again, he’s had a lot of practice.”
I swallowed hard. “So you knew this could happen?”
Again, she nodded. “Yep, pretty much counted on it; that’s why Andrea is taking care of this problem. When Sergio demands a weekend meeting, it’s a sure bet there’s more than just business on his agenda. He drags out the negotiations until it’s time for dinner. Then, after he’s sure his guest has drunk a lot of wine, he makes his move. It’s an old trick, but as I’ve said, Sergio’s an arsehole.” Danielle shrugged. “Yes, Adam, it’s totally reprehensible. But, drunk or sober, Andrea can handle him. By the time she’s through with him, he’ll rue the day he met her.”
I was about to ask what she meant, but Danielle shut me up with a kiss. “You ask too many questions, Adam. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, stud, but first, I need to have you inside me. Let’s find someplace more comfortable.” She reached for my hand… or so I thought.
I had a thousand questions but my dick couldn’t care less what Sergio de Vincenzo was doing to my wife. My manhood throbbed as Danielle grasped it, and we both knew I couldn’t wait to get between her gorgeous thighs.
With her phone in one hand and my traitorous erection in the other, we made our way to the enormous L-shaped couch in the living room. Some say the journey is sometimes better than the destination, and as I watched the little pink heart-shaped crystal bobble and jiggle with every step Danielle took, I contemplated that adage.
At the couch, we kissed again, Danielle spinning me around until the seating was behind me. While our tongues engaged in an epic duel, she playfully pushed me until I stumbled and fell onto the soft cushions. With my shaft pointing at the ceiling, I watched Danielle grab the wavering appendage while climbing onto the couch. Planting her knees at the side of my ribcage, she teased herself and me by rubbing my spongy dome along her juicy slit. Finally — and I was on the verge of begging — Danielle guided my engorged flesh between her splayed cunt lips and lowered herself onto my pulsating erection.
“Oooh, fuck… it feels good,” she whimpered as my prick gradually disappeared inside her. “Now I know why Andrea doesn’t want to share you with me,” she added with a playful smile.
For a split second, I felt guilty for allowing Danielle to have her way with me, but the image seared into my brain, of Andrea’s lips wrapped around another man’s cock quickly assuaged my shame.
The buttplug Danielle was wearing created a sensation I’d never experienced before, when she tensed her cunt muscles. It was a distraction I could easily get used to, and it helped me momentarily to forget what was happening in Milano. However, it didn’t take long for my stupid curiosity to resurface and as Danielle leisurely rode me, I heard myself asking, “Will she fuck him?”
“Almost certainly.” Danielle sighed, grinding onto my pelvic bone. “Considering what’s happening here, I’m sort of relying on it,” she giggled, raising her hips to the point that my dick almost slipped from her pussy, before impaling herself again.
“You hoped Andrea would succumb to Sergio’s charms?”
Giggling, Danielle nodded. “Hope it’s not the right word, but knowing Andrea, she’ll use all her skill sets to achieve her goal. And this weekend she’s determined to get Sergio exactly where we want him. Luckily, Andrea’s beauty, intelligence, and sex appeal are just what she needs to deal with that scumbag. And having seen Andrea do her thing, close up and in person, I know Sergio won’t realise he’s been steamrollered by her, until she’s long gone.”
The admiration in Danielle’s voice filled my heart with pride, but the unspoken words felt like a dagger had been stuck between my ribs. Danielle leaned forward and kissed me.
“Sorry Adam, I know this is difficult to accept. But would you prefer that I lie to you?”
Screaming a silent yes, I shook my head.
“Anyway, what’s the problem? If Andrea weren’t in Milano, you wouldn’t be on your back with me sitting on your cock. And don’t try to pretend you haven’t dreamt about this. I’ve seen you ogling me when I’m around.”
My cheeks started to burn. “Don’t worry stud, I haven’t told Andrea you mentally undress me when I’m here… I didn’t need to, she’s seen how you are when I’m around.”
Seeing my cheeks redden, Danielle leaned forward and gave me another quick kiss. “But, do you wanna hear a little secret.”
I nodded.
“I like it when you look at me that way. It gets me all wet.” Then, sitting up straight, Danielle tossed her phone to me. “Come on, stud, let’s give Andrea a taste of her own medicine. Take a picture of me riding you.”
She watched, amused, as I fumbled with the instrument, my clumsiness exaggerated by the embarrassment of discovering my secret crush hadn’t been a secret at all, but taking a deep breath, I recovered some of my composure.
It took me a while, but after following Danielle’s instructions, she was finally satisfied with my efforts. Personally, I thought the sight of my cock buried into her hungry pussy was very explicit, but the smile Danielle treated me to when she took the phone, caused my erection to throb. Then, while she rolled her hips back and forth, I watched her delicate fingers tapping the screen.
“Is that for Andrea?”
A triumphant smile accompanied her nods. “I just told her I’m with an amazing lover, and I can’t get enough of his cock.”
“But then she’ll know you’re here,” I said and laughed at my own joke.
Sparkling eyes stared down at me. “Oooh, she’ll know, all in good time, Mr Modesty, all in good time. For the moment, I want to enjoy my sweet victory.”
My ‘what the fuck’ expression made her laugh. “Your beautiful, smart, slutty wife has mentioned it countless times that you’re too straight-laced to fuck around, but we can all see she’s wrong on that count.”
Grinding her abdomen onto my pelvis, Danielle enforced her point.
“Of course, I said that given the opportunity, you would fuck me in a New York minute. That’s when she declared me certifiably crazy.” Danielle reached behind her back and squeezed my balls. “But here we are,” she added and began to ride me like an Amazon possessed.
oØo
I like sex with my wife; she’s good at it, knows what turns me on, and isn’t freaked out by anything kinky, but Danielle was something from another league. The way her cunt gripped my throbbing shaft, had me doubting whether I could give her another orgasm before shooting my load. Needing to recover the initiative, I slapped her bouncing buttocks and asked if they frequently discussed having sex with me.
Danielle reduced the frantic pace, bit her bottom lip, and it was obvious she didn’t want this to end any more than I did. Recovering her poise, the playful smile returned, and she answered. “Oh yes, every time Andrea’s been unfaithful… so more times than you’d care to imagine.”
Despite the soft tone, the words came in like a sledgehammer. Looking pleased with herself, Danielle leaned forward and pressed her lips to my ear. “You didn’t honestly believe this was Andrea’s first rodeo, did you?”
I groaned and was still processing Danielle’s words when the damn phone beeped again. Sitting upright, Danielle grabbed it and, after staring at the screen for a second, turned it to me.
Andrea had also taken a selfie. It wouldn’t win any prizes for quality, but it was graphic enough for me. Her dress was bunched around her waist, and behind her, out of focus, was Sergio. The photo confirmed my fears. Then another message appeared. This time, it was only text but my wife’s sparse words left nothing to the imagination: ‘Fucking hell, my arsehole feels like it’s on fire. This feels sooo good.’
Seeing my shocked expression, Danielle giggled, then said, “Two can play at that game.”
I hadn’t realised a gauntlet had been thrown down, but Danielle tossed me her phone again and climbed off my raging hard-on. “You know what to do, don’t you?”
She moved with a speed that would have put a rattlesnake to shame. In one graceful move, Danielle lifted off my slick shaft and swung her incredibly long legs over my prone body, taking up the reverse cowgirl position.
Now her delicious derriere commanded my full attention, and I reached for her peachy buttocks. Parting them, I viewed her charming buttplug as she looked back over her shoulder. I almost jumped out of my skin when she said, “Are you going to remove it, or do I have to do all the work tonight?”
Dropping the phone, I clasped the crystal heart-shaped top and gently pulled. Holding my breath, I watched as Danielle’s sphincter gripped the sleek object, releasing it from her grasp reluctantly. Giggling at my cautious approach, Danielle spat onto her fingers, and after roughly massaging her arsehole, she grabbed my erection and raised her hips.
Greasing my helmet with a couple of passes along her dripping cunt, she placed my swollen dome against her twitching rear entrance. At first, I thought nothing would happen, but Danielle’s arsehole relented and my rigid prick slid effortlessly into her back passage. Danielle stopped as my sensitive rim pushed past her entrance, wiggling her hips playfully before continuing to sink onto my cock. “Hmm, I’ve been waiting for this all evening,” she hissed and pressed down.
Flabbergasted, I put my hands on her hips and was surprised to feel Danielle cover them with her own as my prick disappeared from sight. “Oh God, this feels sooo good,” she moaned and put one of her hands between her thighs. Watching her arm move, I realised she was fingering herself while burying my cock inside her pretty derriere. There were a couple more “oh fucks” and a few calls to God, but as I tightened my grip on her hips, Danielle shook her head.
“Take a picture, idiot, I can do this myself,” she ordered as she continued riding my cock.
As she enthusiastically bounced up and down, I reached for the phone and activated the camera. Hearing the shutter, Danielle stopped riding and looked over her shoulder. “Are they any good?”
I nodded. “As good as the last one,” and handed her the device.
“Oooh, I like this photo, very explicit. You’re getting better at this. She can see how my arsehole is gripping your cock,” she giggled. “Just wait until your wife sees this. She’ll be so jealous.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked as Danielle raised her hips and ordered me to fuck her.
“Because we both know how much she enjoys having anal sex.”
Danielle wasn’t wrong, but her answer evoked more questions than it answered.
“How do you know that,” I spluttered, wondering what the fuck Danielle and Andrea talked about at work.
“The short answer is I’ve seen her in action… The first time was during negotiations in New York a few years ago,” she said. “A supplier offered us thirty-five percent discount if we could offer him something his competitors wouldn’t be getting.”
Without warning and before continuing her tale, Danielle climbed off me and turned to trail kisses down my chest towards my groin. Reaching my pelvis, Danielle grabbed my cock and, smiling wickedly at me, started sucking and tugging. “Don’t look so surprised, Adam. I’m just as much of a slut as your wife… that’s why we’re good for each other.”
I blinked a couple of times and continued watching her go to town on my cock. Finally satisfied with her work, Danielle, looking me earnestly in the eye, climbed back on top of me and promptly shoved my meat back into her arsehole.
“So, as I was saying, I was trying to think of something to offer the man, when Andrea grabbed my head and proceeded to French kiss me in front of him. As I tried to catch my breath, Andrea asked if watching us in bed together was special enough. When he nodded, she said that if he gave us forty percent discount, he could join in. If he upped it to sixty percent, we’d let him fuck both of us in the arse.”
“Your fucking kidding me,” I exclaimed but wasn’t surprised to see Danielle shake her head.
“I can’t blame her; he was rather handsome, like a young Clint Eastwood. Needless to say, the following morning, we did the walk of shame with a huge discount and sore bums.”
Hearing one of the world’s former top models talking like a slag from a rough estate was unnerving, to say the least, but there was no denying its effect on my cock.
“Did you ride him like you’re riding me?”
“We both did… and, just like then, I’m not stopping until you cum inside me.”
While Danielle had been talking, she’d been riding me in the same fashion as she had recounted the events, leisurely, unhurried and with a calm conversational tone, but, as soon as she stopped talking, both the pace and her obscenities intensified, and I wondered how long I could keep things together. Part of my problem was actually believing I wasn’t dreaming.
Many times I’d fantasised about being in this very position, but only in an abstract way, as men often do when thinking about the impossible. Yet, here I was, with Danielle sitting on top of me, my cock buried deep in her arse, and if the moans and whimpers I could hear were true indications, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
Not only that, it seemed my new playmate was determined to make me shoot my load inside her. The way she massaged my rigid flesh with her abdominal muscles threatened to rapidly bring my spunk to a boil.
“Danielle, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum like a fucking geyser.”
“That’s my intention, darling. I want to feel you pump my arse full with hot, thick spunk.” Then, her phone beeped again. After studying it for a few seconds, she grinned and held it against her delightful breasts.
“Andrea’s been naughty, very naughty. Do you want to see?”
I felt I should be questioning my sanity, but curiosity got the better of me. Promising Danielle I wouldn’t lose interest in her, I took hold of her phone. Danielle’s words were the understatement of the century. Calling this selfie naughty was like saying the Pope is a Catholic priest. Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine my wife posing for a picture like this. But, there she was, grinning at the camera, holding Sergio’s erection a few inches from her mouth — and spunk covered her face.
Porn is one thing, but seeing my wife featured in pictures I would only expect to find on the internet is another, and it put things in a different perspective. This selfie, along with the others, was hugely exciting and my cock twitched when I looked at it.
I’ll admit, I had never, not even in my wildest dreams, ever thought I would see Andrea making selfies like the ones I’d seen, and I had never imagined her going astray, but that could be said about a lot of things happening this evening.
I’d always known Andrea was hot-blooded; I’d found that out during college. However, when she said she loved me and promised before God to forsake all others, I truly believed she’d left her wild past behind her. Obviously, I was wrong.
“Does Andrea still love me?”
“Of course she does, you stupid fucker,” snapped Danielle. “Your wife doesn’t jump into the sack with everybody we do business with, but now and again, it happens, and afterward, she always feels guilty.”
“So why does she do it?”
“Why do you care? If your throbbing cock is anything to go by, then I’ll be able to take a similar selfie in a few seconds,” Danielle sniggered while she tensed her arse around my cock.
oØo
“Don’t lose it, Adam, I wanna cum first.”
Giving orders is one thing, but obeying them is another, and Danielle wasn’t making my life any easier.
She raised herself off my erection and, leaning forward, she pressed her lips to my ear.
“I’m gonna fuck you until I cum.”
Then Danielle squatted above my raging hard-on, and grinning insanely, reached for my meat, and closing her eyes, pressed my throbbing erection against her anus.
“Are you ready?”
I nodded, and Danielle impaled herself on my rigid flesh. In the blink of an eye, my entire length disappeared from sight, and a smug grin of satisfaction beamed down at me.
“Fuuuck, your cock feels so good. Now, just lie there and let me do all the work.” I nodded and felt Danielle grind her arse onto my pelvis. Then, slowly rising, her muscles gripping me, I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait too long for my release. I desperately needed to cum but not wanting to disappoint Danielle, I clenched my jaws and tried to delay my climax.
Seemingly unaware of my predicament, Danielle rode my cock like I was her prize stallion, while I gazed in awe, at the woman of my sexual dreams bringing herself effortlessly toward a climax. Hearing her moan and feeling her muscles milk me was fantastic, and one thing to strike off my bucket list. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, Danielle put one hand flat on my chest and the other between her thighs. I was thoroughly unprepared for how far Danielle had gone but, moments later, amid erotic wails and vigorous fingering of her clit, she came with the force of a tsunami.
Until then, I’d been doing everything in my power to delay my orgasm, but watching Danielle cum so wantonly and feeling her back passage tighten around my rigid flesh proved too much, and I stopped trying to postpone the inevitable.
With a roar that drowned out Danielle’s cries, I thrust my hips upwards, burying my cock deep inside her, and spurted my seed. The power of my climax felt like my spunk had come from my toes, and Danielle’s eyes shot wide open. “Oh God, yes, pump me full with your cream,” she cried, and I shuddered again as a second salvo drenched her insides. “That’s it, my lover give me all of it.”
“I’m trying,” I croaked as another powerful jolt racked my body. Having Andrea’s boss grinding her arse on me as she tried wringing every last drop of spunk from my balls was something out of my wildest dreams. When she squeezed my prick again, I knew there was nothing left. “I’m done, Danielle,” I gasped. “I’m completely empty.”
“Hmmm, that’s a shame, this is something I could get used to. But, before your cock gets all soft, there’s one more thing I’d like you to do.” She retrieved her phone and handed it to me. “You know what to do.”
As soon as I raised the phone, Danielle leaned back and raised her hips. I pointed the phone at her where her arse and my greasy prick were connected, and I snapped a quick shot. “Are you ready, Adam?”
Without another word, and in one swift movement, Danielle lifted herself onto her haunches, her twitching arsehole just above my prick. Then a small glob of white semen appeared. Another twitch and more spunk — my thick creamy spunk — dribbled from her arse.
Transfixed, I watched it trickle down the curve of her buttocks towards the top of her thighs before dripping onto my stomach. All this time, I kept my finger on the red button, and the camera sounded like a machine gun as I captured countless photos.
Then Danielle slumped beside me, and while we kissed, she took the phone from my hand, saying she wanted to see the pictures. The raunchy images appeared rapidly, one after another, like a disjointed film, and knowing it was me who’d given supplied this creampie, and more importantly, that Danielle was going to send these to my wife, sent shivers down my spine, and despite what had just happened, I felt my wilting cock thicken again.
“Aren’t you going to send them to Andrea?” I asked when Danielle put the device on the nearby coffee table.
“No, right now I’ve got more important things on my mind,” she said, fingering the spent semen into my skin.
After exchanging all the raunchy photos in their bizarre game of one-upmanship, I wondered what could be more important to Danielle than trumping my wife’s raunchy selfies. But, as Danielle grasped my thickening manhood, I decided not to pursue it.
“Right now, I need a shower, and I want you to scrub my back. And, while we wait for your wife to get home, we can have more fun with each other.”
Imagining Andrea’s probable reaction at finding me in bed with her boss, I watched Danielle climb off the couch. Again, having that world-famous body standing naked next to me while she reached for my cock, still made me feel like I was in the Twilight Zone.
As I followed Danielle, her hand tightly gripping my erection, it occurred to me that fate was a fickle mistress, and if Andrea demanded to know why I’d let her best friend and boss fuck me, I would claim I was just a victim of circumstances.
