Don Scott: The hottest wife

"Right now the very sight of you unsettles me," Jeff said, blitzing into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. "I'm going to go to work and try to forget about what happened this morning. Maybe, just maybe, I'll find it in my heart to forgive you. I just don't understand you any…"

I turned toward Jeff and smiled. His face twisted into an even more hideous mask of contempt when he saw my cum-streaked face. "Can't you wipe that stuff off?" He turned his back to me, dropped the towel, then quickly put on a pair of shorts. Jeff has never intentionally allowed me to look at his naked body.

"I just don't understand why you're getting so upset," I said, wiping the spunk from my face with a Kleenex. "I've been told by same of the girls at work that their boyfriends really enjoy it when they suck cocks."

"Put some clothes on. I don't want you to parade yourself around this bedroom like a harlot. Also, I don't want you to talk to me again in the same tone and manner that you've talked to me today. You sound like a cheap streetwalker."

Jeff left without having breakfast, which didn't bother me a bit. I didn't want to look at him, either. I wiggled back into my panties and T-shirt and went to the living room for a cigarette and some morning coffee.

With a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a smoldering cigarette in the other, I looked out our most unscenic picture window and cursed life in general and Jeff in particular. The apartment building we live in is built like a horseshoe and all I had to look at was someone else having his morning coffee and cigarette.

I stepped out on our balcony, feeling the cool morning air against my body. I knew I shouldn't be outside wearing just panties and a too-tight T-shirt, but I was feeling daring and horny. The guy across the way turned his attention to me, but I ignored him, pretending not to see him though I watched his every move out of the corner of my eye.

Eventually I stepped back into the living room, set my coffee cup down, and decided to give my interested stranger a show. I started jogging in place, my tits bouncing frantically under the cotton shirt. Then I dropped into a sitting position and locked my fingers behind my head. Stretching out, I took a big gulp of air – causing my boobs to rise and fall in the most inviting way – and then snapped off ten quick sit-ups. On my way up with each one I checked and was pleased to find that my stranger in the other apartment was still interested in me.

I studied the stranger for a moment. He looked solidly built, though I really couldn't see much because of his rather loose-fitting bathrobe. His hair was dark and curly, cut fashionably short in the disco style. He had a trim, neatly cut moustache and sideburns that came just to the bottom of his ears. Beyond that, my adoring stranger was too far to judge.

With my fingers still hooked behind my head I rested prone on the floor, then picked my legs up and held them straight in the air. After a moment I split them wide, giving the stranger a good view of my crotch. With my legs splayed out I felt wonderfully exposed, feeling as though the whole world could see me while knowing all along that just ones gentleman I had never met was feasting his eyes on my body.

"My, my, my," I murmured when I saw the man untie the belt on his robe. His hand worked inside his shorts and I could faintly make out the tip of his cock peaking through the end of his fist as he jacked off.

I continued to give him a show, working my legs up and down so that he could see my panty-clad crotch. The stranger's fist worked frantically on his cock and I felt my cunt becoming moist for the second time that day. A stranger wanted my body and was probably dreaming some lustful fantasy in his mind about me. He was, no doubt, fucking me rather than his hand. At least that's what his imagination would be telling him.

I looked at him between my spread thighs. His hand was just a blur at his waist. The stranger stared straight into my crotch as little spurts of cum shot through the air.

Memorial Hospital was quiet as I walked through the familiar doors, dressed in a crisp white uniform with a starched cap held on top of my piled hair with several bobby pins.

"Hello, Amber," Dr. Bruce Joseph Dean said, smiling his aristocratic smile. "How is it going today?"

"Not very good, actually," I replied, taking in his broad smile and dark, brooding eyes. He had a commanding presence that I had tried to ignore in the past. Now, horny as hell, I looked at him in a way I never dreamed I would.

"Something I can help you with? You know you can talk to me about anything."

"Yes, I know that and believe me, it's a comfort. I've got problems and I don't really feel like seeing a shrink about them."

"A psychiatrist?" he said, raising his bushy eyebrows.

"Actually, a marriage counselor would be more like it." His dark eyes took mine in, then quickly panned down to catch a glimpse of my cleavage. "I've done my rounds in two hours before, I'll try and do it again today. Could you meet me in the lunch room at twelve-thirty?"

"I'll be there." Bruce's eyes caught mine again. He looked at me with concern, with honest concern. I looked at him trying to hide my lust for his body.

Bruce had never really interested me before. At thirty-five he was fifteen years my senior and a colleague of my husband. His father, Bruce Joseph Dean, Sr., was the Chief Surgeon of Memorial Hospital. He took the position after his father left it and, among those in the know, Bruce was the leading candidate to fill the position after his father retired. All in all, Bruce had seemed too success oriented to be my kind of man. Both he and Jeff spent too much time worrying about how much money and fame they could get.

I did my afternoon rounds quickly, giving shots and medication to patients without my usual short conversations with each of them. At precisely twelve-thirty I was in the lunch room smoking a cigarette with hard, long drags. I was nervous about seeing Bruce. On one hand, I wanted to get fucked madly and Bruce's long, lean body excited me. On the other hand I wanted my marriage with Jeff to work and never before had I been unfaithful to him.

"Deep in thought," Bruce said, towering over me. I hadn't seen him walk in and he surprised me.

"I'm worried. I've got a lot of things on my mind," I said. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"No, I haven't got much time. Now what is it that's bothering you so?"

"It's Jeff. It's Jeff and me. It's everything about our marriage. It seems like what I like to do he can't stand and our values are getting all twisted up."

"How long have you been married now?"

"Just four months. He didn't seem like this before we were married and…" I broke off quickly, noticing one of the older, and more nosey, nurses listening to my confession. "Perhaps we could talk some place else, Bruce. I don't feel very comfortable here."

Bruce and I walked in silence until we found a laundry room. The workers there wouldn't be back for a half-hour as they had just taken their lunch break.

Bruce leaned against the door and I stood in front of him, feeling my knees shaking. A sudden feeling – fear, if you will – of fucking Bruce came over me.

"What is troubling you? I promise, I'll help in any way possible and everything that goes on in this room will go no further."

"Jeff and I aren't making love much any more. Hell, it used to be he couldn't get enough of my body and I couldn't get enough of his. But now he hardly touches me and when he does… well… he doesn't let me do the things to him that I want to do."

"He doesn't like to… ah… how should I say this?"

"He doesn't let me suck his cock," I said, surprised at myself for coming right out and saying it. "Today, while he was asleep, I started sucking him. His cock sure enjoyed it because he got hard as hell. I sucked him and sucked him, taking his cock deeply into my mouth and stroking his balls. Suddenly be woke up and grabbed me by the hair. He pulled my face away but I kept stroking him until he came. For the first time in my life I got to suck him and taste him cum."