Sweet, Sweet Revenge

Elizabeth sipped from her cup of hot chocolate as she sat in the dining room, enjoying the panoramic view of the steep, ragged cliff-line bending around the foamy, white coastline. A blanket of green, tall grass flowed between the light sands of the beach and the back patio. She smiled softly as she enjoyed the soft moment of relaxation, looking forward to tomorrow's homecoming of her husband, John, from a three-day long business trip.

John sat at the desk in his hotel suite, diligently tapping away on his laptop, finishing up the final details on the final draft of a proposal that would land his company a huge contract and a much larger than expected windfall of profits; millions more. He tried to keep focused, resisting the temptation to explore the options his inevitable six-figure bonus would afford he and Elizabeth.

Fred, John's boss, was in a more celebrative mood. He watched his wife, Marsha, fresh out of the shower wrapped only in a towel and pattering her face with makeup as she sat in front of the mirror in their hotel room. He said, "Just have to dot the 'i's' and cross the 't's' and we have a deal ~ a BIG deal!"

Marsha's reserved smile bounced off the mirror in his direction. "And you thought John couldn't pull it off" she quietly muttered.

Fred rolled his eyes at her. "John, John, John. I am fucking tired of hearing about how great John is."

Marsha avoided anymore eye contact, anymore dialogue, anymore anything.

Elizabeth watched as the white surf rolled up over the smooth sand, then slithered back out to the churning waters of the bay. She mused on the memory of the passionate farewell she and John had shared while walking hand-in-hand along those sea-soaked sands just a couple of days ago.

John paused for a moment, stretched his legs and clasped his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. He allowed his mind a brief break, embracing the mental image he had stored in his mind just a couple days ago when they had walked in the ankle-deep surf washing over them. Elizabeth was wrapped in a sheer, white cover-up, her daring bikini thinly veiled. The ocean breeze brushing her hair over her shoulders and causing her cover-up to cling to her body, advertising the curves of her amazing body.

Fred glared at Marsha. His borderline abusive, inarguably aggressive nature flared as he stood up and walked up behind her. He twisted her head so that her face pointed towards her shoulder. He fumbled with his slacks and tugged down his zipper, flipping out his cock so that it flopped over her shoulder inches away from her face.

"You cock-sucking bitch. I am fucking tired of hearing about John. Shut the fuck up and leave your mouth for what you are good for." He forced his cock in her mouth Once again Marsha was caught in the middle of a conflict to which she was no stranger. The price to be paid for enjoying the riches that came with her bastard of a husband.

Elizabeth moved to the couch, pleasure filtering from her mind to the rest of her body as she relived those moments of John's adoration, the dizzy delight of his eyes dancing over her body in a wanton, yet loving way. His lips meeting hers. His tongue dancing with hers. His unsolicited words as he looked into her eyes and said, "I love you, babe."

John felt his cock throbbing in his pants as he dug deeper into his mind's photo album, tracing the curves of Elizabeth's 36c breasts, admiring the pink hue of her large, tennis-ball sized nipples, hardened by her own arousal. His senses reminding him of how soft her flesh was in his mouth, how sweet her nipples tasted.

Marsha nearly gagged on Fred's cock forced into her mouth. She sucked because she had to, not because she wanted to. She tried to ignore the undesirable, salty flavor that assaulted her tongue. Fred grunted as he forced his cock against the inner wall of her cheek.

Elizabeth laid back on the couch, her senses almost able to hear John's soft moans of pleasure as she reflected on how he nuzzled his mouth over her breasts. She felt her own wetness sticky between her folds, craving his touch.

In a matter of moments, Fred's assault of Marsha's mouth erupted with a quick and sudden ejaculation which gratified his soulless lust and selfish greed. As he stuffed his cock back in his shorts he sneered at Marsha, a mix of his cum and her saliva dripping from her chin and dangling down to her flesh and towel. "Get fucking cleaned up, Marsha. We have a deal to close in less than an hour."

John reached down and slid his pants and underwear to his knees, freeing his hard cock that was craving Elizabeth's touch, her body, her perfect, married pussy. His mind strained to balance his desire for his sweet wife with the urgent task at hand. Precum glistened on his cockhead as he battled the choices before him; finish the document or stroke to his well-worn images of Elizabeth.

Marsha refused to let Fred see her appear weak. It was not until she re-entered the shower that she trembled and shed a tear, feeling the anger and despair resulting from his repeated, brutish treatment of her. She had never, ever had an inappropriate thought towards John. Fred's suspicions were borne from his own perversions and insecurities and fragile ego. But, Marsha admitted to herself, if she could ever choose a replacement, certainly John was the gold-standard.

Elizabeth tried to count the hours remaining until she would be back in John's arms, but her mind was fuzzy and dazed as her arousal flooded over her. The only thing she could count was the mental vision of his two hands gliding over her body and caressing her with sensual strokes.

John counted the minutes left before the meeting when this document would be presented. He frustratingly returned to the keyboard, hard cock still exposed, as he labored to finish the task.

Mark reflected on what Marsha had said. How, in his craven opinion, she made a big deal of John's role on this big deal. The more he looped her words over in his mind, the more angry he became. His heart was beating harder. He glanced at the clock and murmured to himself, "20 goddamn minutes."

Elizabeth dipped a single finger between her folds and felt the warm, sticky lubricant that smoothed over her married pussy and beckoned her sweet husband's love.

Marsha stepped out of the shower, not yet even able to secure her body with a towel when Fred yanked her out of the bathroom and back in front of the mirror. He stood behind her, facing her towards the mirror, as he reached around with one hand trying to force his middle finger up inside her cunt as his other hand clenched her jaw, forcing her attention to see their reflections in the mirror. "Is this where you want to feel his fucking cock, bitch?! You want to let your hero fuck you right here?" He pumped her with his finger a couple of times then flung her aside.

John heaved a sigh of relief as he printed out the document, proud of his efforts and relieved that he managed to meet the deadline in the face of such erotic headwinds.

Elizabeth arched her back as she felt the imaginary touch of John's throbbing cock sliding against her swollen folds.

Marsha crumpled in a heap as Fred flung her naked body to the ground with an angry flex of his impulsive will. "Stay the fuck here" he snarled at her. "Neither John or I need you."

John rushed to get dressed.

Elizabeth felt a rush of euphoria ripple over her body.

Marsha whimpered as she heard the hotel door slam shut as Fred left her. She wished he would leave her for good. She tried to battle against dangerous thoughts, but could not fight off the tidal wave of emotions flooding through her heart.

John met mark in the hallway outside the conference room. They quickly conferred over and reviewed the final details before them. John's cock was no more than ten minutes removed from the hot images of Elizabeth's body delicately revealed beneath the sheer fabric of her cover-up. Fred was still seething at what he perceived to be John's hero-status to Marsha.

Fred tersely said to John, "Let me do the talking. We can't afford to fuck this one up."

John swallowed his pride and good sense, nodding at Mark as he smartly said, "Whatever you say, boss." BOSS. It was a respectful, yet impersonal way to address Mark. It was the best John could do.

Marsha's naked body convulsed on the bed as she sobbed, signs of a crack in the dam of her pent up emotions.

Elizabeth's exposed body quivered on the couch as she absorbed the pleasure of her own fingers playing the part of her husband's tender loving.

John smiled outwardly at Mark, disguising his inner thoughts that appraised Mark as a fucking idiot.

Mark smirked at John, barely veiling his disdain for John's efforts and punishing him for the nonexistent transgressions conjured up in his own, irrational mind.

Marsha picked up her cellphone and considered making the call that she for so long had fought off. The call she had so often wanted to make, but didn't. The call that would most likely change everything. The call that would expose her deepest secret and dare to admit her never before spoken desire.

Elizabeth glanced at her cellphone on the table next to the couch, wondering if John was available. Wondering if she called if he would answer so she could hear his voice for just a brief moment and enjoy the post orgasmic cuddles of his long-distance presence.

Mark blundered. John made the save. Millions were made. Yet the boss's twisted mind refused to celebrate anything that he deemed as more lore for the 'great John' who his misguided mind viewed as the competition. As the parties shook hands...

Marsha's trembling fingers reached for her phone.

Elizabeth's pussy-scented hand cradled her phone.

Marsha paused, then finally spoke, saying things that sounded so foreign, so unlike her, so far removed from all the denials she had asserted for such a long time. The dam broke open. She finally was admitting what she had for so long denied. There was no stopping the flood now.

Elizabeth listened, her phone delivering to her ear words that flooded over her. With her body flush and her mind racing, the words filling her mind effected her in ways she could never have imagined.

The final hours of that business trip drained the sands of time from the hourglass. Marsha knew her phone call had changed everything. She sat awkwardly between Fred and John during the brief flight home. Numb. Dazed. Nervous as hell.

They exchanged awkward pleasantries as they departed the airport, heading in their separate directions.

John arrived home and stepped inside the entry way. He was eager to fuck. His arousal was almost at an animalistic level of lust.

Mark and Marsha were mere moments from their home, barely one cozy mile away from where John and Elizabeth lived.

John found a cryptic note from Elizabeth taped to the inside of the front door. He dropped his bag and slowly read it.

My Love. If you are reading this, then you have returned home before me. I want you. I need you. I am presently putting the final touches on a gift that is long overdue. I will explain as soon as I get home and am safely in your loving arms. Love, Elizabeth.

Fred and Marsha stepped inside their front door. They found a masked intruder awaiting them. Without a word of warning, shots were fired. One... two... three. Fred fell lifeless to the ground.

No more than ten minutes later, Elizabeth arrived home and rushed into the arms of John. "You are shaking like a leaf! What is wrong?"

"It's over" Elizabeth said. "Finally."

"What is over?" John asked in confusion.

"My sister called me last night. She told me everything. I had to help her the only way I knew how."

"Oh my god, Lizzy. What did you do?!"

"I did the only thing left that would free Marsha. He's gone John. I shot him. I killed him. Fred is dead."

Marsha blubbered as the police questioned her.

John was numb as Elizabeth confided the truth to her.

Fred was dead... stone, cold, dead. The investigation would grow cold.

Perverted justice? Perhaps. Sweet justice? Absolutely.