A Neglected Wife's Rebellion

Stan found her blushing such a turn-on. More conversation had led to him learning that despite Melissa having a normal sexual response and even a strong drive for sex, her history had been with just a few lovers, and none of them had helped her discover herself. Sex with her husband had been good while they were in love, though never orgasmic, and she had resigned herself to her sad fate after her research led her to believe she was simply an unfortunate medical statistic.

But Kristen had rescued her. Melissa told Stan how she had moaned so hard that day in the tub when she first came, she thought she would wake her daughter. Her older colleague had taken her out to dinner and wine to help her celebrate. That was over a year ago, she explained. When Stan politely queried about any earlier attempts of hers to masturbate, Melissa simply confessed that until the book changed her mind, she had been raised that proper ladies don't play with themselves, and nothing turned her on more than being with a man and having him please her.

Sadly, her lovers had all been selfish, unimaginative duds. Dustin did not use the steady intimacy of marriage to learn what pushed his wife's buttons and become a better lover to her. He would simply chase a fast orgasm, roll over, and fall into a snoring sleep.

What Stan didn't know was that Melissa had treated Kristen to lunch, and a voucher for a day at her favorite spa, as a thank you for emboldening her to make a change, which had cumulated with her matching with, and now establishing a connection with Stan. "I mean, it's just a date, I can bail, I can decide to end it there, I know he isn't going to make a scandal," Melissa told Kristen.

"Sweetie! Of course not. I know exactly what this guy wants, and it is not a scandal. Go and meet him in peace, and for goodness sake be sexy, and open-minded to early fun!", was the emotional and encouraging reply from her work bestie.

Melissa didn't have that notion of 'early fun', as she pampered her skirt and sat down in her small but comfy SUV, and headed to a Starbucks halfway between her and Stan's place. She was not going to open her legs for him on date number one, no matter how much this may be a revelation and in some ways a revolution in her life.

She was a lady, and even as she was closing in on the spot, and running a little late (like a proper lady she had texted and apologized for her tardiness), part of her was unsure, her hands trembled some, and her heart was all a flutter. It was happy butterflies, but mixed with a lot of tense feeling like she was taking a big final exam for a course she needed to do well in. 'I can bail out at any time if I meet him, and no sex on the first date, I won't have it. He will have to wait for me to be 'ready' ', she thought to herself.

Stan didn't think that, nor did he care. Melissa fit the bill for what he was looking for. Fucking her on the first date would only help him claim her more fully, and exert his dominance, for he sensed she was overall deliciously feminine, very submissive, and the ideal lover for an alpha like himself. He meant to keep her for a while if everything worked out. He found her very hot in that girl next door kind of way. He knew she had probably been one of the popular girls, but more the quiet sidekick to the queen bee, rather than the center of attention.

She had a rocking body, marriage, and reputation she would protect, especially as she loved her daughter and was at least for now decided on tolerating her husband, whose only merit seems to have been that he was wealthy, and a solid provider, and someone she had fallen for hard when they had met. Now, years later, she was in a quiet rebellion, and Stan would be the man to meet her needs, whether she opened her legs that night, or another, it didn't matter. He too had a feeling, she would be his, and it would be great, for as long as it was mutual.

Stan had arrived early and was aware of how hard he was every time he thought about her fit legs, her pawg butt, and what he thought was a very attractive figure. But her sweet face had sealed the deal, and now he knew he wanted her. Her soft-spoken voice, and her refined manners, all made him think she was both the lady he needed and perhaps the needy little skank underneath it all. Time would tell, but he knew he had nothing to lose.

As he waited in the car, he had parked in a quieter corner on purpose, part of his design to accelerate things, but only if it was destined to be done in a way so as not to lose her, but rather win her faster, and lock her down. He didn't want her profile active on the site any longer. If it was meant to be, he wanted to get into a rhythm with her soon, get her back to focusing on her child and husband when they were not fucking, and on satisfying her needs when they were. 'Satisfy her so good she is almost addicted to me, like the college girls had been, all those years ago' he thought. He had a feeling she had a slutty side, as yet undiscovered, a side he wanted to claim for his pleasure and use.

Melissa arrived and parked closer to the building. Her heart was pounding now, but being the safe mom, she never texted while the car was in motion, and when she hopped out of the seat and closed her door, holding a fashionable-looking beige leather purse, she texted, "I am here". He had been watching, and she had told him to expect a black SUV, but the parking lot was mostly empty and he quickly recognized her, though it was almost dusk. He watched her looking around for him, when he slowly opened his door, just then responding with his text, "I see you gorgeous!"

As she looked around, it being a windy evening, a sharp gust made her skirt hem flutter fast and lift quite a bit, mostly in the back. With both hands she had pulled the hem down, but not before he had seen a flash of her upper thighs, the very bottom outline of her plump butt, and a generous portion of the lower third of her panties. During the quick accidental upskirt, her body was in a turn, and he could just see a sampler of the bounce her ass had whenever she was in motion. While it was merely a simple flash of fabric, the half-a-second glance made him think, 'I may just have to pocket those this evening. She is stunning, and I am going all in...'

Melissa was too nervous from being about to meet Stan to fully process that the wind may have just made her gift some areas of the parking lot a bit of a show. It was a dressy skirt, and she had felt the frigid wave of air rush onto her tushy, but just for a moment. She was still holding the hem double-handed, her purse strap on her shoulder, when Stan walked up to her, they hugged a little awkwardly, but then both adjusted for a shorter but closer hug.

Stan knew how to hug girls on the first date, and it was Melissa holding her skirt hem initially that led to an awkward hug. She had to release her hem, but the timing was off, and he had fixed their hug, but then promptly let her go to look in her eyes, "Even lovelier in person...", he said, winking at her playfully.

She reddened, and was aware of a billowing hem again, less than the first time, but she quickly held it down, and swallowed a gulp, responding almost in a whisper, "Fall can be so windy...". She nervously fixed a stray lock near her left eye with her left hand, and found that her left hem was threatening to rise if left unchecked. Stan grinned, gently placed his left hand on her back, and led her in a prompt walk to the door, opening it for her, and scanning her behind in the manner of a seasoned player, 'fuck...what an ass' he thought. The 's' word may have been repeating in Melissa's head, realizing he may have seen some of her modesty already, but she quickly rallied herself.

The counter was open, they ordered two cappuccinos, a favorite they knew they had in common from their long calls. Melissa's had one shot of espresso, Stan asked for two, but as Melissa had walked on he had whispered very softly to the barista, "Make it three," and winked. Stan was hoping for a long night. The elderly gentleman behind the counter had some beady eyes, which blinked back with an empty look, while he mumbled, "Sure thing."

As they waited for their coffees, Stan scanned the seating and liked the look of some low chairs that had an even lower table. He wanted not only to look at her legs but to see how she sat. He was already reading her, every movement. Melissa played with her ponytail a little nervously, but she knew it could be cute too, and had passed forward to where the finished coffees would be set, thinking she needed a few seconds to calm herself, the possible, rather probable upskirt memory coming to haunt her.

But she was forgetting that she was right under some bright LED light, and Stan, vigilant as he was, approached slowly, smiling as he scanned her figure, his smile widening when he realized that the skirt had just a hint of sheer and that she was wearing what looked to be 'good girl' cotton bikini panties, white or pale pink, he wasn't sure, for the outline was just barely there. He thought, 'good, she is a lady, and won't put out easily on the first date. Safe and comfortable undies which show she has no intention to fuck tonight. Let's see if her mind can be changed...'

"Nothing like a good cappuccino on a frigid, windy, evening...", he winked at her, as she was receiving their order.

She held both drinks and opened her mouth to whisper, "Yeah not the best evening for a skirt, and..."

But he politely interrupted her, "And your legs look great...", he knew to carefully go on the attack, and not lose any sexual tension, but build it as safely as he could, "I don't mean any disrespect, but your husband is a fool. If you were my wife, you would have a big Texas smile on your face after every night of passionate sex, and you would never feel neglected, let alone lonely..."

He smoothly approached her and took his cup as she offered it, and while she was processing how to respond, led them to two low faux leather chairs, with a coffee table that was barely a foot off the floor. She sat carefully, setting her cup on the table, then her purse by her chair, and then finally diligently checked the back of her skirt, setting the hem carefully, as she sat, then crossed her legs.

Whether she knew it or not, she sat in a manner to let him admire their shape and her knees, and they were crossed towards him, in a trusting, but still reserved ladylike way, her right hand busy fidgeting in her hair as she took a sip with her left, "I am not happy with him, with us...", she looked down, but then rallied with a smile and took another sip, "I almost deleted the profile. I almost chickened out of sending you my face pics. I almost turned the car around on my way here..."

"But you didn't, because you know something feels very wrong and that you deserve to be happy and satisfied", came his confident reply, as he sat low, legs open but gentlemanly, his crotch pointing at her knees, his eyes fixed on hers, direct and confident, as he too took some sips, "One life to live, why be miserable?"

She nodded, impressed but almost frazzled by his confidence, by the fact that she was aware of him already in pursuit, but in a 'you know you want this too' kind of a way. And she did. Her posture remained legs crossed but was more relaxed soon, and she leaned in.

He felt his temperature seem to rise when, as she leaned more forward, he could see the most delicate and classy outline and exposure of her cleavage, not too much, but showing something. He swallowed a gulp too, and flexed a bit, he didn't want her to see him hard, not yet. But in the right moment, he knew it may well make her choose him as a lover, and even break her resolve not to fuck him tonight.

They both knew he wanted it, he knew it directly and she assumed it, though it was never spoken of. Melissa felt it in a tension that had started from first contact and grown with every moment and interaction since. She knew to surrender early would be both delicious but also cause her to feel a deep guilt.

Stan knew he needed to obliterate that guilt, fuck her possessively as soon as possible, get her trusting and hooked, and never let her forget, or regret, that she let him pound her on their first physical meeting. His cock was getting hard, but he suppressed the lust for now. He was always in control.

Melissa blinked at him, smiling, and not being one to let a conversation slow, just because something important was being discussed, she replied, at that moment admiring his confident smile, his strong frame, and the fact that there was 'just something about him' that she couldn't place, but it made her feel at ease, feel safe and wanted, and above all, made her aware that she wanted him to want her, and badly. "Well, I am here, and would also love to learn more about you..", the response was timid, but it was genuine, "...and apparently my legs look good in this skirt..." she giggled.

"No, they look great, in or out of a skirt...", he looked at her, slowly probing, like someone carving a delicate material carefully, making sure to cover as much ground as possible without splintering the object, let alone making it shatter, "and your lover of choice should make sure to satisfy you. Because it's a simple need. Because it feels good. Because it's as easy as enjoying a cup of coffee on a windy night, but as important as being fair and giving in a relationship...", he took another sip, "you know where I am in life, but, if I was in his position, I would know to value what not all men get to have. A good mother to my child. A wife who is patient and caring even in times of absence, and a woman who is so deserving of receiving the pleasure her very visage gives to others." His look was direct and sincere and if his words needed to be persuasive, they were genuine as well.

She simply blinked at him, and mock-fanned herself with her right hand. "Gosh Stan, you do know how to make a girl blush..., "she chirped, still mock fanning herself for effect, but then took a sip, "But what you say is true. It's just that I feel so unsure, so scared, so very overwhelmed to be sitting here, with a nice guy..." she paused to exhale deeply, feeling the pulsations in her chest, "and nice though you are, we are discussing an affair, which makes me a bad wife, probably a bad person too, at least in some way". Her cheeks were flaring red, but it wasn't just the sexual tension, it was also anger at her husband, her situation, and the fact that she wanted to do something about it, something she thought was inherently wrong.

To go back to the way it was felt like returning to a kind of emotional emptiness, and a continued sexual itch she badly needed to be scratched. To go forward meant taking the official plunge, becoming a cheating wife, and coming to terms with the fact that once she let another man inside her, there was no going back. It could not be undone.

"I have felt very alive and you have brought some excitement to my life, but if I am being honest, I don't think that as attractive as I find you, I am ready to do this..." Her instinct was to get up and leave, immediately. He saw it, she was fighting herself now, the cup was on the table, ignored and unfinished, her eyes were no longer on his, she was staring at her purse, she looked like she would cry, while at the same time looking like she was utterly lost and in need of rescuing.

He remembered at this moment why he had wanted her. He knew that with another man, maybe with himself as a husband, she would be much happier, elated even. And if anything more or less fulfilled as a woman raising a child and having a husband who would show her in words, and more importantly actions, that she was cherished.

He would make an effort because she was a true lady. After all, he loved submissive women, cherished Melissa's intelligence, and adored her looks. And he knew with the right man she would be a fierce little minx in the bedroom, a temptress at most times, and maybe, with the right man getting her panties wet, a bit of a slut for him, in the comfort of their bedroom.

But Melissa would not be his wife. That would be some other girl, maybe two, maybe five, maybe whatever number of years later. He was aware that even in the short time having coffee, their conversation had naturally escalated, and now she was panicking, and feeling guilty. He knew he had to lock it down, and like a sportsman playing the critical points in a match, he would have to take some gambles to win, while risking losing it all perhaps.

She was a live one. High risk and high gain, and he saw her as highly valuable, as a lover he would honor. In the end, she would be a fucktoy, maybe one he cared about and even loved, but a fucktoy nonetheless. And what was most true was, that there would be other Melissas out there to find if this one slipped away, but then he really wanted this Melissa. He could feel it in his blood.

"Melissa...", he exhaled, "answer a question for me..."

She was lost in her thoughts and her guilt, and his voice was calling her back to earth, like someone reeling in a kite that was uncontrollably flying away. At least for a moment, she sat back, but her heart was thumping, her legs had quickly uncrossed and were now pointing away from him, and towards the door, "Yes...", her voice was soft, almost broken.

He looked at her, 'it's all or nothing' he thought, 'critical game time'. His voice was steady, and even he could feel, his confidence was now being tested, not only by her, but by himself, and he spoke, "When was the last time you got wet, at the thought of a man wanting to sniff your panties. And you wanting to let him. Because life is short, and one should be happy..."

"Umm...", she understood the question, but was initially unable to respond, she mumbled it out, but it was audible, though faint, "Not since years ago...", she looked like she would swoon.

"And what about tonight?" Stan's heart was pumping hard, he could feel his blood pressure rise in his neck. He made his gaze as soft as possible while still being direct.

"Umm.....yeah...", she fanned herself with her hand, but this time it was not a mock action, she was red, her cleavage had turned a deep pink, and her cheeks were the human version of strawberry colored. "I....umm...I feel it tonight.....for the first time in years...", she exhaled, but then continued, "but it doesn't mean that..."

Stan was a master at interrupting sweetly but assertively, "I know it doesn't, so let us go for a drink...there is a bar that's a walk across from here. You don't have to decide anything tonight, but if you let me, I want to help you see what I see, for your benefit. A beautiful woman who needs love and to enjoy life. And maybe, just maybe, it can start with us...", he exhaled, feeling the gravity of the moment, "think about going back to the way it is. Do you want that? Or would talking about it over a drink help you more easily decide, instead of an impulse reaction of guilt?"

He exhaled again, he was selling it now like it was business, and he had to persuade her, "He neglects you. He fails you. And you are a losing giver for his selfish needs. So if he can't satisfy yours, find someone who will...no shame in that. You are fixing an injustice, and like we talked about, like your profile states, not a soul has to know, except us..." He said the last word sweetly, realized he had played his best cards, sat back, took the last sip of his coffee, and waited for what felt like her verdict.

"I umm....I need to go to the ladies' room..." she said, ignoring her cup then, but picking up her purse.

"I will be waiting right here..." he smiled, he knew it was deliberating time in her head, but the restrooms were on the opposite side from the front door, so unless she tried to run blatantly, he would have at least one more shot to sway her when she returned, though he hoped, he might not have to take it. It would probably be a bad sign, and she would vanish and ghost him. And the beauty of Stan's character was, he would go home, orgasm to the memory of the night's tension, and fire up the site and look for the next Melissa-like girl. But he felt for some reason that, of all his conquests, this one would be the most worthy, and the sweetest.