Ron Taylor - Wife on the prowl

Neil was still in the bathroom. She could see its light down the hall and she could hear him brushing his teeth. Melinda took a deep breath and studied herself in the mirror. Was it right? Was she perfect, for him? Oh, she hoped.

Her hair was loose and lustrous, framing an oval face with strongly chiseled features. Melinda shook her hair, delighting in the way it shimmered and fell into place around her face, onto her shoulders. She rarely wore makeup – her eyes were naturally dark, her lips and cheeks healthy pink – but the modest amount she'd just applied highlighted her features and made them, she hoped, irresistibly appealing.

"Please," she whispered softly, puckering her lips. They made a softly muted red bow, glossy in the bedroom's diffused light.

She turned, profiling before the mirror, and the effect was dramatic. At least, she hoped it was dramatic.

Melinda's negligee was a pale green silk, transparent as plastic cup, though the coloration kept it from being blatantly revealing. But the curves of her pink body showed through – the full high roundness of her tits, the thrust of her hips, the sleekness of her thighs. Facing the mirror, she could see how the clinging silk emphasized her tits, allowed the dark nipple pads to show. She stroked her palms across her breasts, loving the feel of the fabric against them, and her nipples began to erect, punching their outlines into the silk. It was a sexy gown, she was certain. It had cost her ninety dollars and she hoped the expenditure would prove worthwhile.

"Not bad for twenty-nine," she smiled at herself, and the Melinda in the mirror smiled too. It was a pretty smile – but was it pretty enough? Melinda threw back her shoulders, making her tits lift bravely. Alluring, she thought. Pretty isn't what you need.

She half closed her eyes, peering at herself through the slits, and she made her lips curl into an enigmatic smile. A smile that promised much, she thought critically. Oh, God, let it deliver too!

Melinda stole a peek out the door, just in time to see the bathroom light going out. She sucked in her breath, listening for the sound of Neil's feet down the hallway. In a moment he'd be here, ready for bed. And she…

He came into the bedroom, wearing the bottom half of his pajamas, and he stopped in the doorway. Melinda was lying gracefully on the bed, her legs stretching, and her body at a diagonal across the sheets. He couldn't get into bed without displacing her. Or accommodating her.

"Hello, darling," she said lightly, her heart beating like a blacksmith's anvil in her ears. "Are you ready for bed too?"

He nodded, taking a step toward her. "Uh, is that new?" he wondered, indicating the green negligee.

Melinda sat up, wishing this were an old fashioned bed, with a headboard she could prop herself against. But even as she rearranged herself, she made damned sure that her legs stretched across Neil's side of the marriage bed, reminding him that she was here, that she was available, that she… The aroma of perfume rose from the deep valley between her tits, and she drew fresh resolve from that heady fragrance.

"Come here," she said huskily, extending one hand toward her husband. He came closer but he didn't take her hand. He only stood there, looking at her. Melinda felt a lump in her throat and her vision seemed to blur. Was he rejecting the offer of her body too? He stood like a statue, only his eyes moving.

Melinda rose onto her knees and she leaned toward Neil. She felt the silk stretch tight across her breast and she knew that he could see her pink flesh through the green wisp of gown. Could he not smell the scent of her prepared body, too? Was he blind and deaf and sexless too? "Neil," she said. "Come to me. Touch me." And she seized his nearest, idle hand, drawing it to her breast. "Feel my nipple," she invited. "Feel how stiff it is? God, Neil, all of me is just as excited as that nipple! All of me wants you… now… here… oh, come here!"

He was a medium-tall man, athletically built, but he seemed pliable as jelly then. "Melinda…" he said as she pulled him onto the bed, as she twisted his face round so she could bruise it with the crushing, heated ferocity of her kisses. His fist tightened on her breast, and Melinda groaned into her husband's mouth as her nipple seemed to convulse against the heat of his palm, through the silky lasciviousness of her gown, and she felt her breast swelling, engorging, and hardening in his grip.

Ahhh, she thought in excitement, lying back. Neil moved with her but there was no enthusiasm. Her hand stroked up and down his back and she found only tension, reluctance. Damn you! She cursed silently, and her fingers stole beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.

She rubbed him, rubbed until she felt heat stirring in the cheeks of his ass, a moistness in the crack between those checks, and then she rubbed harder, Neil stirred, lifting one leg, and his mouth slipped from hers. "Honey," he said apologetically, "I don't think I can…"

"Don't think, don't talk!" she whispered, and her lips brushed a trail of licks and kisses down his neck, onto his chest. For a man of thirty he had precious little hair on his chest, she thought, just as her mouth homed in on one tiny nipple.

"Ohhhh…" He ovaled his mouth into a moan as Melinda began to lick and suck his erecting treat. Her lips pulled on his rubbery flesh, her teeth gnashed provocatively, as Neil's little tip stiffened in her mouth like a teeny, tiny cock.

A cock. Melinda's hand moved inside Neil's pajamas, switching attack from his rear to his front. If he had little hair on his chest, he had a forest of it in his groin, and she let her fingers slide teasingly through that forest, flirting with the root of his limp cock. Her fingers scissoring upon the base of Neil's pecker, squeezing the tool where it sprouted from his lower abdomen, sliding down around to tickle his nuts from above, and she made her mouth even more aggressive upon his extended nipple, praying that he'd show some response. Soon, God, soon! His prick felt so tiny and defenseless when it was limp. So tiny. So defenseless.

And so Goddamned fucking useless!

Melinda let her fingers slide down further, scissor-locking around the shaft of his prick. She tightened, loosened, tightened again, and panting as she fought to squeeze life into Neil's lazy pecker. He strained against her. "I don't think it's going to work," he said in a tight voice, his hand coming down to touch her. "Look, honey, I'm really knocked out. Why don't we just go to sleep and forget it?"

Melinda sniffed, catching the aroma of her sexy perfume. She looked down at her green silk negligee, the seductive gown she'd worn tonight specifically to seduce her husband. But how could you seduce a man whose cock wouldn't even stiffen for his perfumed, negligeed, seductive wife? And how did you know when a marriage was going sour, when divorce was inevitably waiting just around the bend?

Melinda pulled her hand out of Neil's pajamas.

She sat back, legs cutting beneath her, and she sighed heavily. Neil put his hand on her shoulder. "I've had a hard day," he told Melinda. "I'm just not in the mood."

She looked up, dark eyes flashing. "You're never in the mood lately! You work late almost every night. You come home, eat your supper, and fall into bed. Neil, what's happening to us? I think you care more for your job than you do for me."

"For Christ's sake, honey, it isn't like that at all!"

"Then why… why don't you want to make love to me?"

"Oh, damn it, Melinda!" He lifted the sheets and crawled under, sliding into comfortable sleeping position. His back was turned to Melinda and she stared at it, drawing no more comfort from his bare shoulders than she had gotten from the rest of him.