Wives with Benefits: Volume One (3 page)

Then as though he was aware of her approaching climax, he broke off from her. Pulling off his pants, his underwear.

Oh Jesus, he had a big cock. Was she even going to be able to get it in her mouth?

It was so beautiful, not just its size. Its simple lines were somehow elegant, in a way the male phallus was not really supposed to be — was it? His lack of hair was striking enough, perhaps helping emphasize his sheer immensity.

Panic set in as he moved between her thighs, pushing up her knees, pressing that enormous thing against her sensitive, burning sex with only a tiny little scrap of black satin to keep it out.

He wasn’t even going to wait for her to suck him, to get her head around the sheer physicality of what she was doing, the fact that a real live huge naked non-spousal cock was going to claim her, breaking her vows.

She felt as though she were walking a tightrope over a great canyon, with the overwhelming temptation to jump off and feel the rush of the air as she fell.

Ethan nudged aside her underwear with the tip of his bare penis, and she felt she’d look a fool to stop him now. She felt it touch her there — right there, there where no one had been but Mark for so long, where she had believed no one ever would but her husband. The tip, the head, broader than she would have imagined, making her wonder if she could even take him inside her.

Big and hard and hot and male and not at all her husband.

In that moment, Alice could not breathe, could not move to stop him. She felt herself teetering over the edge, gasping, shaking, completely giddy.

She looked away, and the image of her husband and that stupid g-string she’d found in his pocket sprang back to mind. She felt the fire of rebellion inside her. Well, she did not have to pay for a stripper to show her a good time.

Alice looked into Ethan’s eyes, and smiled wickedly. Then she felt her world ignited, as he eased forward, that great thing stuttering a little as it slipped inside her half-inch by half-inch, stretching her, filling her, lighting her up.

A stranger’s big cock, so hard and so astoundingly hot. So very bare without a condom.

She kissed him as he moved inside her, his violation so brutally physical, and yet it made her so wet that he simply glided within her, then out, his fullness brushing over every erogenous point within her, including parts she’d never known could give her a sexual thrill.

Oh God, was she an adulteress now? Or did it require him to fill her with his come? She felt despicable, felt she’d crossed that line.

She pulled herself away from him now, thinking this was such a momentous thing for her, it couldn’t just be a two-minute whirl in the sack. He was grinning as she slipped off her panties, then pushed him away, off the bed, clambering on all fours toward him and the edge of the bed.

She reached for him, for his cock, that big obscene thing that had intruded so magnificently on her and her marriage. The Whoremaker, she decided it could be called. She reached for it, and pulled him to her with it, her hand curling around it, then her lips stretching around it.

It tasted of her, of her betrayal. Sweet, salty, tangy. The flavor of bad girl. Of cheating wife.

His smell was all about him, blended with her own. It seemed so wrong, so powerfully against her every instinct — and yet so exotic, so different from anything she knew, from anything she might have expected.

Licking him, feeling this strange thing in her hands, the big helmet with its rounded tip, the strong shaft with its central vein pulsating from his arousal. Thinking how it would hurt Mark to know this was what she was putting in her mouth, in her body. The guilt deadened by the sense of justice, and now only fueling her lust, her desire.

She felt his hand gently on her head, and moaned her approval, her voice stifled with her mouth so full.

He was fucking her face. She had to strain to keep him from making her gag, but it was so worth it. She was letting this gorgeous, athletic god of a stranger ram his cock into her mouth, and she felt exhilarated as he used her.

He didn’t hold her, however. He didn’t prevent her from pulling back, from flicking him a gaze that told him clearly to lie back down on the bed so she could have him as she wanted.

He was strong, he was powerful, but he did as she told him, so she could lean over him, suck him into her mouth again, maybe, or maybe put him between her tits, having him fuck her cleavage in such a bad way, rubbing that enormous tool between her breasts, the breasts that Mark so enjoyed, but had never treated like this.

Feeling so wrong, that big hot phallus slipping between her soft tits, that were normally reserved for hubby’s mouth and hands.

She licked his cock, and then rode it, figuring she had already broken her vows, might as well go the whole hog. Rolling over him when she got tired, as though they were wrestlers, allowing him to take the lead, to pump his hips and fuck her hard, his thrusts jolting her whole body, wracking her with a force that might even have hurt, had she not been so doped up on adrenaline and pure undiluted wicked sex.

The first time, he came inside her. Completing that sense of downright depravity, raising a finger to her lying, cheating husband.

She’d even been thinking of telling him to pull out, but then she felt her own orgasm coming, and she couldn’t face not going through with this, Mark be damned. Feeling him stiffen up even more inside her for that final push, and then with a quiet groan, that enormous thing was jerking, shuddering, and pumping his thick oil inside her, the heat of his come making her pull him hard into her, wanting him deeper, deeper, deeper.

Finding that she’d been yelling for him to finish in her, make her his.

The second time, after she’d sucked him back into full life again, she had him spray all over her chest, so she could rub his slippery cream all over her smooth skin, that white fluid dripping down her cleavage, dribbling down her stomach, sticky as it spurted over her mound. Covering herself in it, her territory claimed inside and out.

*

In the early hours of the morning, she woke feeling confused, her bearings a little lost, her body raw and stretched and sore and on fire.

The guilt suddenly swamping her system as she remembered what had happened, her memory coming back to her seemingly in reverse order, starting with the moment that she’d shown him to the door, naked, dripping with his essence, giggling at how wicked they both were, Ethan sharing her cheer, looking a little as though he wasn’t quite believing what had happened.

Jesus, it was good. But she did not want her marriage to end.

What had she done?

Drink had been a factor, but she’d clearly gone too far in seeking restitution for the sleight she believed he’d made against her.

What was the point of sleep when this colossal fork had appeared in the road that was her life? She wasn’t going to drift back. Flipped the lights on instead, saw the business card lying casually on the writing table beside the TV.

Ethan Villier.

Remembered him telling her to call him maybe, maybe they could have dinner some time, if she felt like punishing her husband again.

Her husband.

Jesus, was he, though? Whatever he’d done, he’d looked apologetic, hadn’t he? When she’d confronted him with it? He hadn’t know what to say to her. She’d flown off the handle, run out on him.

He deserved something, but she did love him. Couldn’t do without him.

Dinner with Ethan Villier. But that was a tempting prospect, too. The wickedness, the depravity. Playing behind her husband’s back.

Dinner.

Lying there in the bed, unable to sleep with half a hangover beginning to emerge, she remembered a dinner party a few weeks back — where the post-meal conversation had somehow found its way to the question about what you would do if you found incontrovertible evidence that your partner had cheated on you.

The laughing, the teasing, the host deciding that everybody at the table should answer.

Alice sitting at the opposite end of the table to her husband, speaking clearly and loudly enough for him to hear as her turn came around. If she ever discovered even a hint that he’d been with another woman, she’d walk straight out and fuck the first man she ran into. Fair’s fair, right?

Seeing Mark blush at that suggestion, she couldn’t understand it, he looked faintly pleased with her answer. She remembered thinking at the time — well, Mark would never even think about someone else, he wasn’t that kind of guy.

It had come time for him to tell everyone what he would do if he discovered evidence that Alice had cheated on him. He’d said something quiet about it being all right. Not a big deal.

Trying to hide his real feelings about it.

That conversation had fallen into the melee of topics that were quickly forgotten after the drinks that followed the food, and a party that was riotous and successful and went on into the small hours.

But they’d had particularly good sex that night, Mark had been harder than she’d remembered him being in ages.

Remembering that, as she now lay in that otherwise empty hotel room that still smelled of sex — made Alice suddenly gasp.

Three o’clock, her clock said. Why did she feel a sudden burst of hope? That he would forgive her, yes, she now felt that was certain. He hadn’t been lying at that dinner party. What made her suddenly scrabble to find her purse, and open it up, and grab that silly little scrap of cloth: that was hope for something else. That he’d been playing her, playing her for that scenario they’d talked about at that dinner, in front of everyone.

She found the g-string that had sent her walking out on her husband, which she’d furiously stashed inside her purse, at the time to remove his trophy, his memento.

Held it up to her nose, finding that there was no way it could have been worn, by a dirty stripper or anyone else.

He’d bought it to spur her into action.

Playback

One moment his life, his marriage had been entirely conventional, destined to play out predictably with a slow tedious march toward the inevitable — and then the next moment, suddenly everything changed. Everything he knew was shaken up, transformed, never to be the same again. 

And Liam Bryson was suddenly sitting there on the end of their bed, watching his pretty brunette of a wife preparing herself to seduce another man.

He couldn’t quite believe it.

“You can still stop me, honey,” she was saying, as she drew the razor along her smooth skin, over the tantalizing shape of her exposed mound.

Shaving her pussy for him, though she’d never done it for her husband in seven years of marriage.

“All you have to do is pick up that phone. Text or call, I don’t mind.”

One moment Liam had been just an ordinary husband with an ordinary wife, with a sex life that had fizzled as familiarity overcame easy lust, and awkward communications made fatigue and stress insurmountable barriers to sexual fulfillment.

The next moment, here he was sitting on the end of the mattress with the biggest erection of his life, watching Victoria make her pussy so smooth and bare — all for someone else’s benefit.

“But if I don’t hear from you, I have to assume you’re all right with this…”

It all started with that DVD. Sitting on their bed, waiting for him when he got home from another hard day at the office, a strangely extravagant red and pink bow tied around it as though it was some kind of Valentine’s box of chocolates.

He’d ignored it to start with, thought it something someone might have given Victoria, that she’d left behind. The gloom of feeling that everyone had forgotten his birthday that year, including his wife, giving him tunnel vision in terms of his plans for the evening. 

It was when he had stood there in the kitchen in his boxer shorts and a T-shirt — no need to make an impression when he was in by himself — watching the TV dinner revolve under the bright light of the microwave, he had started wondering why somebody might have given Victoria a DVD wrapped up in ribbons.

He even found himself wondering who might have given her something wrapped up in ribbons.

Did she have a secret admirer? Was it wrong to hope so? He felt that familiar mix of jealousy and excitement well up inside him, stirring up a fluttering feeling inside his stomach, a tingling feeling between his legs. Months and months of secret fantasies pushing him to think that another man had eyes on his Victoria, and that perhaps she was enjoying his attention. These weren’t the kind of feelings husbands were supposed to have.

The TV dinner was left steaming in the microwave, unwanted, as he returned to the bedroom, picked up the DVD, thinking if it was something she’d been given, there was no way she would have just left it there in the open.

He felt his heart rate picking up even before he slipped the thing in the little DVD player beside the TV on the dresser opposite the bed. What was on it? Who was it for? 

Holding his breath as the TV screen flickered, and then suddenly there was the image of Victoria right in front of him, clear as day. Sitting on the end of the bed in almost exactly the place where he was now perched.