Robert Mills - Slut wife

She was staring sadly at her coffee cup when Janice Humphery rang her doorbell.

"My God, honey!" Janice blurted when she opened the door. "What have you done to yourself?"

"I didn't sleep very good," Melissa said sheepishly.

"You look bad," Janice said. "Aren't you getting enough fucking to make you sleep?"

Melissa winced.

"That isn't it at all. Martin was out of town last night and I was home alone. I didn't sleep very well without him."

Janice settled down on a kitchen chair. "You should have let me know, honey," she told Melissa. "Marvin could have dug up a friend. It isn't good to go without your fucking."

Melissa shook her head.

"You let me know," Janice said with a sly wink. "I can get you some cock just any time you need it."

Melissa poured coffee, setting a cup for Janice in the hope that drinking the coffee would keep her mind off sex.

"Martin couldn't make it back last night," she lied. "I missed him so much I just couldn't sleep."

"Next time, you let me know. I can come over and keep you company."

Melissa shuddered. The idea of putting up with Janice for an entire evening was appalling.

"There's a lot of good cock running around loose," Janice confided. "It isn't right for a woman to go to sleep without a good stiff cock prick in her cunt."

Melissa reluctantly nodded. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Martin will be home tonight."

"Sure he will, honey," Janice agreed. "A man can get pretty lonesome for his old shoes."

Melissa sipped her coffee and tried another topic. The conversation became boring.

Janice finally thanked Melissa and went home. The balance of the morning was a complete drag and Melissa found herself becoming more and more bored. She was alone-completely alone, without even the sound of a mouse to break that horrible silence.

At one o'clock, she settled back down in the living room, leafing through a girlie magazine that Martin had brought home. She spent the next hour going through it, looking at the photos of the nude girls. The poses were more or less the same. A nude girl leaning on a chair. Another nude girl clutching a pole lamp. All were young and all were showing their little cunts. That was the feature that grabbed the men, she decided. Showing their sweet little cunts.

Melissa viewed the photos with growing concern, wondering if Martin would get as much enjoyment out of viewing her. She had firm breasts, well-shaped legs and pubic hair that was thick and kinky. Older women should be used for pictures of such magazines, she thought. After all, most of the girls looked like they had never experienced a good fuck and that made her laugh.

She threw the magazine on the floor because she was bored. She went into the bathroom to take a good shower, to wash the stench off the party from her mind and body. She had just emerged from the tub and was toweling herself off when the phone rang.

"Melissa?"

"Yes. Who's this?" The voice sounded like Martin s.

"Martin, honey. I'm calling from the club. I was afraid you would be worried."

The voice was apologetic, not demanding or even irritable. Melissa was puzzled.

"What are you doing at the club?" she inquired.

"We played awfully late. When the game was over, I fell asleep. I woke up about twenty minutes ago."

Melissa listened to the words in complete astonishment. "You played late and fell asleep! Martin, didn't you come home at all last night?"

"I'm sorry, Lissa. The fellows wanted to keep on playing and as long as I was winning, I couldn't refuse."

"As long as you were winning?"

Martin's voice was very exuberant. He sounded happy. "I had beautiful cards, Lissa. I won over a thousand dollars! You know what that means? We can make a down payment on that camper!"

"A thousand dollars!" Melissa blurted. "You won a thousand dollars?"

"Real sweet bread, baby. Every hand was a winner and I couldn't quit."

"I understand, Martin," she said into the phone. "I just wanted to know if you had been home."

"I couldn't, baby. We didn't quit playing until nine o'clock. The fellows insisted they should have an opportunity to win back some of their losses."

"Then you didn't come home at all?"

"No. Why?"

"I thought I heard someone," Melissa lied. "I woke up during the night and when you weren't beside me, I was awful lonesome."

"Sorry, honey," Martin said, apologizing. "Won't do it again. I couldn't pass up winning a thousand bucks!"

"No, of course not, Martin. Are you coming home now?"

"Be there in forty-five minutes. I want to shower first. Get out your cunt towel, honey. I've got a real hard-on for you.

"I'll be ready and waiting," Melissa said.

Thoughts rushed through her mind. Nothing made sense and the more she learned, the less she knew. Martin hadn't come home. He said he played cards all night. That meant he had not invaded the party room and dragged her away from Durant. He had not seen her fucking Durant nor sucking his cock. That part was wonderful and the knowledge lifted a load from her mind. But who had brought her home?

Monday morning found Melissa no closer to a solution to her problems than she had been on Saturday. Martin had appeared completely ignorant of her sexual encounters and for that, she was thankful, but she continued to remember a voice-a man's strong voice that was screaming, "Melissa, you little bitch! So this is how you spendyour time when I'm not around!" She could still hear the harsh voice demanding, "What the hell are you doing? Are you holding a fuckathon?"

She purged her brain for an image but none appeared. She couldn't remember, just simply couldn't remember.

Noon came and went and she forced herself to eat, sipping coffee and nibbling at a green salad. Martin would be late again tonight, he had said. There was a new account to service and Nagel expected him to make a good showing.

By three o'clock Melissa was toying with the notion of going shopping again. Then she remembered she didn't have the keys for her car and that made her feel bad. She decided to call Sandino and have him send her things over to the house. Someone surely must have found them by now.

Sandino wasn't in. The girl at the switchboard took her telephone number and promised to have him call the moment he came in. Melissa said that would be suitable and hung up.

She started to walk away from the phone when it rang.

A masculine voice answered her hello with a warm Salutation.

"Hi, baby."

"Hello," Melissa said again.

"How's your cunt, baby? Still pretty sore?"

Melissa was taken aback and she answered in a state of bewilderment. "How's my what?"

"Your cunt, baby. You know, your gorgeous little cunt."

The voice was cooing in her ear. She was certain it was the same voice she had heard Friday night.

"Who is this?" "Your friend, baby. You should remember." "Sorry, but I don't."

"Don't be like that, baby. You know why I called."

Melissa was becoming irritated.

"Of course I don't know why you called," she rasped into the phone. "Why don't you tell me before I hang up."

"Don't do that," the voice said. "Things would happen you wouldn't like."

"Like what?"

"Like a bundle being sent to your husband's office. I don't think he would like what he found in it."

"What would he find in it?" Melissa asked suspiciously.

"Clothing… keys. He might want to know where they came from."

"Where would they come from?"

"Your little orgy room at the country club. You remember that, don't you?"

"Oh God."

The man at the other end of the line chuckled. "You do understand, don't you, baby?"

"Yes," Melissa agreed reluctantly. "I understand."

"That's the mason I called you, baby." "To tell me you have my clothes?" "Right-and to tell you to come after them." "Why should I. Why don't you send them to me?" "I'd rather have you over here." "Why?" she asked.