tagAnalTaking Liberties

Taking Liberties

byNimrods Son©

"I'm having stupid thoughts."

"Like what?"

"Like that Tom's seeing someone else."

"What? Surely not."

Amy nodded, stepping away from the coffee machine.

"But, he's not like that." Kay said, inserting her coins for a cup of her own. "You've got your paws on one of the decent ones."

"I know. I said they were stupid thoughts."

"So where's all this coming from? There must be something putting these ideas in your head."

"He's been working late a lot more recently, a few nights a week instead of just once in a blue moon."

"Has he told you why?"

"Something about a new contract and deadlines to meet."

"Well there you go then-- Ouch!"

"What?"

"Just burnt my tongue." Kay said, glaring accusingly at the cup.

"Be careful, it's hot."

"Yeah, thanks, I did notice."

"It's not just that though," she said, taking a seat by one of the few vacant tables, "he keeps mentioning the name of some secretary that's started working there, Jane... something or other."

"So you're putting two and two together..."

"For all I know, I might end up with five; but at least I do know one way to get an answer."

"What's that then, ask him outright?"

"God no, as if a man would admit to cheating if you asked him. Even Tom wouldn't without the evidence waved under his nose."

"You've got something in mind then?"

"I have," she sighed, "And come Saturday night, I'll find out just how good I am with figures."

* * *

"Have you seen the bandages?"

With Saturday evening edging towards night, Tom wandered into the bedroom; a towel wrapped around his waist, with the last drops of his shower running down his back. Amy sat on the edge of the bed, nursing her temples as he opened drawer after drawer in his hunt.

"Why, what have you done to yourself?" she asked.

"Nothing. It's part of my costume, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"Which reminds me, you still haven't told me who you're coming as."

She sat back on the bed, stretching her legs out as she leaned back against the headboard. Tom paused in his search as he noticed her moving gingerly, coming across to sit down beside her.

"Are you okay?"

"I think I've got a migraine coming on," she said, "I don't feel up to going out tonight, I'm sorry."

"Hey, that's alright, honey," he said, stroking her upper arm, "If you're not well, then they'll understand if we don't go."

"Oh no, you go. I'll be fine."

"It's okay, it won't be half as much fun without you."

"That's sweet, baby, but you've been working so hard recently, you deserve to let your hair down."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'm just going to pop a couple of pills and get a bit of sleep, so you might as well go, I won't be much company tonight." she insisted.

He kissed her as delicately as possible as he rose from the bed, looking back around the room. Amy had closed her eyes by the time he turned back to her, his initial question on his lips.

"They're in the closet, over there." she said, pointing it out for him.

Opening the door, he found the bandages on a hook, hanging like ties with the rest of his costume. He pulled each of the items out, dimming the lights in the bedroom before disappearing back into the bathroom with them in his arms.

Amy listened to him getting ready, making enough noise for two people, all in spite of trying to keep quiet for the sake of his wife. It wasn't long before he was finished, creeping into the bedroom to pick up his keys from off the bedside table.

"Ha," she laughed, softly, "aren't you just a sight for sore eyes."

It was those features that were the only visible part of him, which he soon remedied as he placed a pair of sunglasses over the thick covering of bandages shrouding his head, giving Amy a twirl that had his trench coat swirling around his legs.

"You like?" he asked, through the thick bandages.

"What?"

"I said, do you like it?"

"Oh, sorry, you're all muffled in there," she said, "Yes, it looks good. But then, you know I've always like you all smart like that."

The sharp, pinstripe suit she referred to, sat alongside his monochrome tie beneath his unbuttoned coat, the black fedora sat snugly on his head finishing the outfit, giving him the look of a gangster straight from out of the thirties.

"Are you sure about me going?"

She looked at him with an expression which translated into English as 'how many times do I have to tell you?' before mustering a weak smile.

"Alright, just checking," he said, heading for the door, "don't wait up now..."

Amy rolled her eyes at his parting words, listening as he closed the front door behind him. She waited a full ten minutes after hearing him drive off in the car before springing out of bed, confident he wouldn't arrive back to check up on her in a fit of guilt.

Taking her time, sauntering around the house with a glass of wine in hand, she embarked on her preparations. Showered, cleansed, toned and moisturized, she set about adding finishing touches to her skin. A dab of perfume in suggestive places, the smokey effect she achieved around her eyes with her make-up, and the satin sheen of lip gloss shining across her already full, red lips leaving her with only her costume left to put the finishing touches to an already alluring sight.

Hidden at the back of the closet in which Tom's outfit had hung, she pulled out an unassuming looking box, sliding its lid off to reveal her own attire for the festivities ahead. One by one, she took each item from the box, laying them out on the bed until it was time for her to come to them.

Deciding to forego panties, she gently pulled on a pair of skin-tight leather jeans, taking care not to put her painted toes through the razor blade created slashes that cut through the material, exposing the tanned flesh of her thighs. Buckling the thick belt tightly over her flat, toned stomach, she reached for the top that seemed perfect to match her lower half.

It was little more than a bra, a halter-neck black one of the same material as her jeans, different to most, with the sole addition of two straps, decorated with buckles, that crossed just above her navel, down from the cups to the belt around her hips.

Thankful that the night was mild for late October, considering what she was wearing was as covered as she was going to get, she slipped on the few finishing touches that would complete her look, and set off outside into the warm night air.

* * *

The partygoers bobbing for apples were the first to see the open toes of her ankle-high boots approach, the stiletto heels clicking across the floor as Amy swept into the largest of the conference rooms within Tom's workplace. Turning heads as she strode through the crowd, interrupting conversations with her presence alone, only to start new ones with herself as the topic, as she sought out one of the guests in particular.

Making her way to the edge of the large area being used as a dance floor, she stood, hands on hips, scanning the throng as it moved to the music; some members of which were still sober enough to keep to the rhythm of the beat. Trying hard not to be distracted by the motley crew of vampires, pirates, witches and fairy tale princesses, she spotted her prey surrounded by bodies as though he were the eye of the storm.

The Invisible Man, still swathed in bandages and buried beneath the sharp lines of his suit, appeared as if he were having the time of his life. Cavorting with a blonde in a Tinkerbell costume, his gloved hands played over her body as they writhed and gyrated, to the point where their hips began to grind against each other.

"I knew it!" she thought, weighing up the blonde with a predator's eye, "I suppose the slut whoring herself out is that 'Jane' he keeps going on about."

Her eyes were like slits as she glared daggers at her rival, lost for the most part in the strobe lights flashing across the room. Forcing her lips into forming a sexy pout, she made her way over; her hips putting on a wiggle as she imagined a long tail sweeping out behind her.

"Well," she thought as she filtered through the crowd, "if he's going to be playing around tonight, it'll be with me."

Circling the pair, she caught his attention the instant she looked into the black of his sunglasses. As the distance between himself and Tinkerbell grew, his focus now following Amy as she prowled around, she took the opportunity to slip in between them. Rubbing herself against him, she unfurled the bullwhip she had coiled around her torso, its length clinging to her like a snake.

"Hey tiger," she purred, her voice adopting a sexy, husky tone to disguise its usual self, "this little kitty wants to play."

Her hands, clad in gauntlets that ran past her elbows, pawed at his chest, the claws protruding from the tips of her fingers pricking through his shirt as she slid them under his jacket.

"I don't know about you, but there's one pussy around here that's just dying for a good workout."

As he squirmed delightfully under her manipulations, she wrapped the whip around his neck, leading him from the dance floor and out towards the door; fueling further gossip as they passed between the guests.

Most of the onlookers chattered amongst each other, commenting on the scene that had left an embarrassed looking Tinkerbell by herself, and of who exactly it could've been that had been daring enough to flaunt enough flesh to come dressed as Catwoman.

* * *

Amy led him along the corridor outside, to where the offices of senior management lay, taking him far enough away from the other guests that some measure of privacy could be assumed.

"Here. I think this'll do nicely." she said.

The handle of a door bearing the title of managing director turned in her hand, opening wide into a large, darkened room. She turned to face him as they stepped inside, her hand stopping his as he reached for the light switch.

"Haven't you heard? Kitties can see perfectly well in the dark."

It could hardly have been called dark in the office, the contents of the room were thrown into silhouette by the artificial glow of the cityscape outside. The lack of decent illumination, coupled with the sunglasses still perched on the bridge of his nose, worked in her favor; her charade even likelier to succeed with him unable to pick out the more distinguishing marks on her body.

The buttons of his shirt proved trickier to undo than those of his jacket, the gauntlets making sure more were pulled off than undone as she got her claws on his chest. Scraping the tips over his skin, that left him groaning with pleasure through his bandaged mouth, with just enough of a scratch each time to leave him with more explaining to do when he got home, she licked her way down his sternum, and over his stomach to the belt buckle that had held up his pants until his erection had made it more or less redundant.

"Is that catnip in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" she teased, distracting him somewhat as she struggled with his zipper.

Feeling him shudder, as much in fear as delight, at the touch of her talons on his flesh, she held his cock lightly with a single finger, peppering it with little licks as though she was a kitten lapping up spilt milk. He felt so good as she took him in her mouth, her hands straying behind him to grasp his buttocks where his pants had fallen and left them exposed; guiding them to push his hips into motion, turning her blowjob into a face-fuck as he quickly caught on to her silent suggestion.

His cock was awash with saliva by the time she pulled away, the combination of his fervent thrusts, with her clawing at his ass, getting him too excited a little too quickly. Not intending to leave without his having put his stiff prick to good use, she saw the desk before her as the ideal place to spread herself open.

Making her way across, she had her pants down to her knees as she bent forward, over the large, oak counter, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she turned seductively towards him in the half light.

"What's the matter, sugar?" she asked, seeing him pause, "Cat got your tongue?"

He pulled his pants up high enough to walk over to her, letting them fall back to his ankles as he stepped into position behind her. She felt the welcome touch of his suede gloves roam across her skin, caressing her ass as his hand reached down between her legs. Feeling a finger push inside her, she gasped both in joy, and surprise at how wet she'd become; the excitement of taking control every bit as arousing as the charade itself.

Pulling his sodden finger from her pussy, she squirmed as her ran it around the rim of her other hole, wincing as he squeezed it into her. It was no real surprise to her that he'd be taking such a liberty with her body, seeing how far he could go with the beauty who'd made herself so available, when the wife he'd left at home hadn't even wanted to discuss his taking her that way before.

As her shock faded away in tandem with the initial jolt of pain, she felt him working his finger back and forth inside her ass, his motion arousing familiar sensations within her loins. There was an added something in the way her body reacted to his probing, an innate desire that expressed itself in the way her body responded shamelessly to his intrusion.

Deep inside, some part of her felt a loss as he took his hand away, the notion distracting her as he acted on the signals sent out by her body language that even the dark couldn't hide. A spark of apprehension flickered inside her as she felt the slick head of his cock nudge against her puckered hole, its protest shouted down by the excitement that just the thought alone of what he was about to do to her was stirring up.

The sheer difference in size between finger and cock had her biting her lip to suppress the squeal as he pushed the tip inside her, its presence leaving her breathless as he slowly edged deeper. It felt like forever, his gentle easing as her ass accepted each and every inch of his length; mere moments seeming to last minutes before he stopped, having no more to fill her with.

It was a small mercy for her ass, feeling full enough to burst; his hips touching up against her buttocks in a testament to how she'd taken all that was on offer. The slightest movement sent shock waves through her, increasing as he began to thrust in and out, taking his cock so far that the tip came close to being pushed out by her still reluctant muscles, before sliding back to what felt like further and further into her body.

The effect was electric, Amy's excitement betraying all the times she'd said no to Tom's wishes, igniting an ache that she was desperate to placate, a desire that burned so brightly that it needed immediate release. Her hand was between her thighs in an instant, attending to the pressure that built up inside her, letting go as she rubbed her fingers over her clitoris, the relief expressed through her words.

"Oh fuck," she cried, the disguise in her voice disappearing, "that feels so fuckin' good."

He spoke back to her, simple words that were to tell her how emphatically he agreed, only for which to fail in reaching her ears; muffled by the wrapping around his face which caught the sweat forming on his brow, and drowned out by the sound of flesh slapping flesh as his arousal increased his tempo, pounding her ass faster and harder.

She sank her fingers inside her pussy, feeling the walls tighten around them, fucking it in unison with his thrusts behind her, rubbing her clit with the ball of her hand. Gripping the other side of the desk in her free hand, she could almost have splintered the wood as she brought herself to an orgasm that left her lungs devoid of air, a shuddering climax leaving her so weak that she would've sank to her knees had the desk, and his large hands spreading her ass as she bent over it, not kept her on her feet.

The short, stabbing motion of his thrusts brought her equilibrium back to an even keel, his animalistic grunts audible enough to make it clear just how close he was to his own climax. Her thoughts gathered all the pieces of information her bliss had temporarily put aside, from where she was, to who she was pretending to be.

"Cum for me," she said, her tone slipping back into sweet seduction, "on my lips. I want to taste you."

Hearing her words, he pulled out of her, the sudden absence bringing a feeling of emptiness in more than just her body. She quickly turned in the space afforded between them, sinking to her knees as his gloved palm worked up and down his shaft.

"Yes, that's it, cum over me," she said, watching him jack off mere inches from her face, "Let me be the cat who got the cream..."

Parting her painted lips, her mouth opening invitingly, she saw his grip tighten. Falling across her cheek, his cum shot from his cock in a flash of pale white; Amy getting her hungry mouth closer, catching each spurt that followed on her tongue.

His body relaxed as the tension escaped in a mix of aching gasps and ejaculate; the few remaining drops falling from the last spasms of his orgasm and between her waiting lips, each as sublime in its flavor as the first. He took a seat on the nearest chair, head thrown back in exhaustion as his chest rose and fell with each breath, bringing him back down from the exquisite high of orgasm.

Amy stayed on her knees, sucking the cum from her fingers as she wiped it from her cheek; lapping up the splashes that fell from his cock onto her chest, catching it dribbling slowly between her cleavage. With her fingers clean, she stood herself up, dressing again as she pulled her pants back around her hips.

"Well, Mr. Invisible Man," she said, trailing her claws over his tender chest as she walked behind him, "I guess it's time I headed for the cat flap."

* * *

By the time the guests had removed their masks and revealed their true identities, Amy had left the building, well on her way home for the time when Tom would come stumbling in through the door. Amusing herself with how hard he'd try to hide the evidence she'd planted of his exploits, she was sat up in bed reading when she heard him slide the key in the front door.

Surprised at how quiet he was managing to be, she continued reading whilst listening to his movements around the house. By the time he came into the bedroom, he was all changed and ready for sleep, wrapped in his bathrobe as he dropped a bag containing the remains of his costume onto the floor.

"Oh, I didn't think you'd be up," he said, seeing her sat there, "are you feeling any better?"

"A little sore," she admitted, though not talking about the faked migraine, "How was your night?"

He turned from her as he sat on the bed, his face reflecting the apathy in his voice.

"Nothing to write home about."

"But you had a good time?" she asked.

"Not really. I couldn't relax properly knowing you weren't feeling well."

Leaning over, he gave her a tender kiss on the cheek, unwittingly allowing her a whiff of the alcohol on his breath.

"You had a drink though, it seems."

"Yeah, just a couple."

"What about dancing, did you have a dance with anyone?"

"No, I didn't feel like it."

Amy put her book down on her lap, quietly getting annoyed at his responses.

"You mean to tell me you didn't have one dance all night?"

"Nope. A few of the guys got a card game going in one of the bosses' offices, so I spent most of the night playing poker." he said, getting up from the bed, "I just about broke even, too."

She watched him leave the room, figuring he'd had enough time to conjure his story up between when she'd left and when he got home. Hearing the toilet flush, she called out to him as he shut the bathroom light off.

"You must have looked pretty silly playing poker as the Invisible Man."

"I didn't," he replied, hanging up his robe on the back of the bedroom door, "Marty from accounts turned up without a costume - the place he was renting from let him down, apparently - so I let him borrow mine. Turns out he had a great time. Lucky bastard."

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byNimrods Son© 12 comments/ 123279 views/ 3 favorites

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