Robert Jenkins: Wide open wife

"Well I can come, too!" Lucy hissed. Pulling open her blouse, she slipped her bra up high, baring her tits, and began to maul the sensitive nipples with her fingers. The other hand, still inside her panties, was pounding in and out of her trembling cunt with frantic speed. And now a third finger had been added to the other two, nearing the approximate thickness of her husband's cock.

She could still see Tom's prick sunk to the hilt inside the redhead's cunt. Tom had slowed down the speed of his strokes. Now he was fucking into her slower, but harder, holding his cock almost all the way out of her moist hole for a second, poised and ready. Then, slamming down hard, he stabbed the full length of his massive rod deep into her, letting her aroused cunt muscles go to work on the ultra-sensitive tip. Lucy could hear his loins slamming against the woman's thighs with every brutal thrust.

She tried to imitate what was happening on the other side of the window, ramming her finger up her shuddering cunt with cruel force. Lucy knew she was close to coming – she could feel her cunt muscles clamp greedily around her fingers each time she thrust them inside.

And then she heard the redhead's wild cry of ecstasy, and glancing at her face, saw the woman had started to come. Her green eyes were open for an instant, but then shut tightly. Tom's bellow drew Lucy's attention, and she saw that he too was coining, his cock buried to the hilt up the redhead's cunt. He was holding her down as her hips thrust wildly up at him in the throes of her climax. Staring at their obscenely-joined orgasms, Lucy saw a thick stream of Tom's come gushing out the woman's cunt and trickling toward her ass.

So Lucy let herself go. Silently she rocked back and forth in the darkness, fighting to stifle the moans and cries that started to bubble from her throat. She felt her hand growing hotter and wetter as her cunt juices poured out, expelled by the frantic spasms deep inside her climaxing cunt. Far a few seconds she wasn't aware of anything but the pleasure rocketing throughout her body. Then, as she began to slowly come down, she saw that Tom and the redhead had stopped fucking. They were lying still, Tom still on top, motionless. Lucy could hear them panting with exhaustion.

She was pulling her pants back up, trying to think what to do next, when she accidentally stepped on a stick and broke it. She saw Tom's head jerk up at the sharp snap, and she panicked, backing quickly through the bushes. When she heard the window being raised, she panicked completely, running wildly through the yard, furiously trying to button the pants and pull the zipper up.

For a moment Lucy wondered why she was running when it was Tom and the redhead who should feel guilty. But her unusual behavior – when she had masturbated instead of challenging the two adulterers inside the house – had confused Lucy. Needing time to think, she ran back to her rented car and drove away, oblivious to speed limits.

The next couple of hours were filled with hideous confusion for Lucy. She was afraid to go straight home. Afraid that Tom might walk in on her before she was ready to face him, now that he had finished with the redhead. If he had finished. It occurred to Lucy that they might actually be fucking again at that very moment. Once Tom had made love to her like that, when they were new to each other. He fucked her over and over again, until she'd wondered how his cock could get hard so often. Nothing like that had happened for over a year.

Lucy was only a few blocks from home when she saw a bar and decided a good stiff drink was what she needed. She was a little nervous when she went inside the dim lounge, realizing what conclusions were usually drawn when a woman went into a bar by herself. Sure enough, a seedy-looking man slouched over the bar tracked her with his bloodshot eyes as she quickly slipped into an empty booth.

"Your first one's on the house – from him," the bartender said nodding toward the bar. Lucy looked at the smirking man at the bar and her blood began to boil.

"Tell him to save it for his alimony," she snapped. "And I'll have a screwdriver." Lucy reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of money and threw it down on the table. The bartender shrugged and went off to mix her drink.

Goddamn shitheads! Lucy silently raged, her anger against Tom suddenly directed toward the unknown man at the bar. Without a doubt that bastard's married. Whore the hell does he get off trying to hustle me?

The bartender brought Lucy her drink, and she turned back to her own troubles with Tom, prepared to begin feeling miserable and unloved. For a while she tried to convince herself that the only thing she could do was divorce Tom, but when she considered the consequences, common sense began to intervene.

"Hey… that's a pretty big step!" she warned herself. Was she really that crushed? After all, what had she done when she actually caught her husband in the act of fucking another woman? She'd played the part of a peeping Tom and masturbated. Big deal. Little by little she began to think that maybe the sex part – the idea of Tom merely fucking another woman – wasn't overwhelming or impossible to take. What infuriated her, though, was that he was out sneaking, fucking other women when he barely fucked his wife.

Leaving her at home, letting her wonder if something was wrong with her, if somehow she'd lost her attractiveness. That's what she was angriest about. But was that worth a divorce?

Perhaps not. For one thing, how was she going to live? Tom made a lot of money, and she knew she might be able to get alimony, but nowadays, with the new divorce laws, that wasn't a sure bet. She'd been a housewife since she and Tom married. Being dumped out to support herself no job or experience might not be too much fun. Lucy was amazed that she was able to assess her possible future with such objectiveness. Maybe the alcohol was helping. She drained the last of her first drink and ordered another. About half way through it, becoming a little drunk, she snatched at a little romanticism, convincing herself that another reason she wasn't eager for a divorce was because she loved Tom. Why else had she mated him?

Then the anger and resentment returned as she thought about Tom fucking the hell out of the redhead. Lucy had seen the sweat running from his body as he pounded his cock into the woman's red-haired snatch. How long since he'd put that much effort into fucking her, his own wife? It's… it's insulting, that's what it is! Lucy fumed. And as she fumed, the desire to find some way to get back at him – some way a lot more creative than a mutually destructive divorce – began to take root in Lucy's slightly fuddled mind.

Gotta turn the tables! Lucy kept repeating to herself. At first she wasn't fully aware of what she meant by that, but it slowly soaked into her brain that the only way she could pay him back was by doing to him what he had done to her.

By being unfaithful!

Sure, that was the way! Nothing would piss-off a man more than discovering his wife was cheating on him. It would be so easy! Instinctively, Lucy glanced at the man who'd offered to buy her a drink, but shuddered at the sight of his vacuous, drunken face. She'd have to do a hell of a lot better than that.

By the time she was on her third drink, Lucy was exultant. She'd found a way to get back at Tom, relieve her hurt and anger, and at the same time, get laid. The prospect of once again being free to make love to whomever she wanted began to excite the betrayed young woman. Her loins began to heat up as she tried to imagine a succession of strong, handsome young lovers, and by the time her glass was empty, she knew she was going to do it. Yes, it would be sweet.

Sweet revenge!

Excitement mixed with fear bubbled up in Lucy as she watched Tom drive off to work the next morning. For her it had been a long, restless night, brief snatches of sleep riddled with bizarre sexual dreams. But she was proud of her new-found skill of deceit. So far she doubted that Tom suspected a thing – either of what she was about to do to him, or that she knew about his illicit love life.