Ellie Gets Revenge

Author's note: This is a revenge story, and it involves some borderline behavior. If that's not your cup of tea, I'd recommend my Cassie story instead. The couple you're about to read if you continue is not a happy marriage.

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They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but I disagree. I very much enjoyed serving it warm, wet, and sloppy. My name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Ellie. My story is so stereotypical that it's funny... or at least it might be funny when I can look back on it without rage. I am 36 years old, blonde, a little tall for a woman, and although I haven't always loved the mirror, I suppose I am somewhat of a "trophy wife". I work hard to keep my body tight, and although my breasts are unassuming B-cups, they do still stand proud and high like they did in my twenties. My ass is definitely my best bodily feature, although I get more compliments on my smile and my sparkling blue eyes than my ass. But... my ass does get more attention, at least at my husband's work parties.

My husband Roger is a corporate attorney, with long hours of boring paperwork. When I met him at twenty, he was going to take on those evil oil companies and save the world with environmental law. Two decades later, it's pretty clear to me that he will work as a mid-level corporate lawyer for the rest of his boring life, and that I have tied myself to an equally boring fate. When he was twenty, he was a tall, handsome man with a winning smile. Now, he has the body and energy of a man who sits behind a desk for ten to twelve hours a day. His money keeps me comfortable, and I guess that's something.

It was the last Christmas party that I began to notice something new in our relationship, and not in a positive way. Roger's firm always throws an insanely lavish Christmas party, and the lawyers are always wasted by 7:00, and usually end up staying the night at a nearby hotel. The firm started planning ahead and booking rooms for everyone, and while Roger and I generally keep our wits about ourselves, we do take them up on the free hotel room. Hotel sex is just different, and the nice clothes and alcohol usually lead to a great night.

Last Christmas I had especially been looking forward to that night; with Roger working late hours more and more often, we hadn't connected physically like we should have. We were down to once or twice a month, and I'm sure he was feeling as unsatisfied as I was. A nice glass dildo made my evenings alone more bearable, but there was no substitute for the real thing.

As we prepared for the party, I selected a form-fitting, curve-hugging red dress. Panty lines would have been visible, and with my breasts holding their own without a bra, I went entirely commando. Smooth red dress, high black heels, and an overly showy necklace and earring combo was all the attire I needed. I asked my husband whether the dress was too low-cut, and his response gave my gut the first "ping" that something was off. He basically grunted without looking. Now I knew that my breasts were not my best feature, but any red-blooded male should be at least a bit excited by a dress cut nearly to the belly button.

My mood was thrown a bit, but Roger didn't seem to notice. We arrived at the party fashionably late (as did everyone but the first-years), and started to work the room. The conversation was typical, with the wives all chatting about nothing or trying to outdo each other, and the husbands all angling for promotions while ogling each other's' wives. The single people tended to pair up fairly quickly, and for whatever reason most of my husband's colleagues were married men. (The firm had a reputation for being a "boy's club", and it had unequivocally earned that reputation.) Roger was dragging me around, and I knew my part well. I did get a bit of joy from the looks of the other husbands, as my backside drew quite a bit of attention, especially this year. But while Roger generally sought out his superiors in the hopes that my looks would gather their attention, this year he made a point to introduce me to Julie.

Red flags were waving in my mind now, and the earlier twinge in my gut had returned with a vengeance. Julie was apparently the newest secretary the firm had hired, and she was everything that I was not. Julie was a fresh young law student, looking to gain experience in the field. She was short, brunette, and most of all, curvy. My husband seemed unable to wrench his gaze from her ample cleavage, displayed tonight in a dress clearly designed to accentuate just that. Her hands often played with the fabric of her deep neckline, and although she pretended to look down coyly, it was very apparent that she knew where the men's attention lay. Our interaction was probably only two minutes, and yet in that time Julie found a way to touch not just my husband's gaze, but his arm and briefly his chest as well. She called me "Nellie" as we left, and my mistrust was ringing like an alarm bell in my head.

That night Roger and I had incredible sex in the hotel room, which should have made me happy. His eyes were closed the whole time, and I couldn't help but think that he might be thinking of Julie's heaving bosom underneath him, rather than my perky small tits. When he fell asleep, I went to the shower and cried.

For two months, it was nearly business as usual. Like everyone who suspects adultery, I started the "pick me dance" early, hitting the gym twice a day and buying sexy lingerie in the hopes of winning my husband back. I didn't know for sure that anything was happening, and so I justified to myself that I was simply trying to work on our marriage. It wasn't about a man, it was about me being the best I could be, right? The day after an underwhelming Valentine's Day, I hired a PI. Two weeks later, I had the answer that my gut had revealed nearly three months earlier.

It was Julie. Of COURSE it was Julie. Like I said, so stereotypical it was almost funny. The long hours, the secretary, the physical differences... I could almost predict their conversation. I was surely pitched as the frigid wife, only in it for his money. In fact, I had been with him since long before he had any money, and had actually worked retail to put him through law school. And lately I had been trying to initiate sex almost nightly, only to be rejected by someone "too tired". Well, according to the envelope in front of me, he was too tired from his motel rendezvouses with Julie, not from working late. The PI had warned me not to open them, but like every other betrayed spouse, I was powerless. I rushed into the pain, and every detail of those photos was burned into my mind forever after.

The next month was a dark time for me. I didn't know what to do, and I hit the gym very hard as I planned my next moves. The gym staff started to recognize me by name, since I was up to at least three hours a day, competing against a woman who didn't know I was winning for a prize I didn't even want. I made it my mission to wear out that treadmill, since I couldn't control much else about the situation. I stopped initiating sex at home, which effectively meant that we stopped having sex. Apparently Roger was getting satisfied just fine at the motel, which worked for me since the thought of his tiny dick inside me made me want to vomit.

All those hours on the treadmill did eventually pay off, just not the way I was intending. The weather started warming up, and one early May afternoon I decided to hit the treadmill in a sports bra instead of my usual top. The gym's air conditioning was pretty weak, and although I had never been this bold before, there were plenty of 20-somethings that wore much less. I knew I wouldn't be breaking dress code or anything, and honestly I felt a bit liberated. I didn't go all the way to booty shorts, but even in black yoga pants and my white sports bra I felt a bit more displayed than I had any time since... honestly, since Roger's Christmas parties.

The attention at the gym was much more flattering that the attention at those parties. At the firm, each gaze seemed either calculated or dirty, and came almost exclusively from stuffy older men. Here, I was catching the eyes of chiseled young men. Sure, some of it was purely college-age hormones. But still, if my sweaty body could turn heads with my hair in a ponytail and no makeup on...

I started to form a plan as I watched the numbers on the treadmill count up. I wanted Roger to feel pain. I wanted to humiliate him. I wanted to put him through the feelings I felt when the PI gave me that damned envelope. Honestly, my plan wasn't safe and I wasn't sure if I could go through with it. But as the miles ticked by, my anger grew hotter and hotter. By the time I stepped off the treadmill, my entire body felt on fire. Honestly, I loved it. At least I felt alive. My plan was reckless and improbable, but at least I wasn't stuck anymore.

I started immediately, by simply walking up to my gym's counter. Since the gym had become my second home lately, I knew Dave by name. I also knew his reputation for less-than-professional relationships with gym members, and although I had never crossed that line, I knew that he spent a significant portion of his time behind that desk staring at my backside on the treadmill. I took a deep breath and pulled the trigger, leaning on the counter and flashing him a smile.

"Hey, Bunny!" That was my nickname around here, since I had a reputation as a cardio bunny. The girls all called me Ellie, but at least half the male staff called me Bunny, teasingly.

"Hey stud." It was corny, but I wasn't going for subtle. And honestly, Dave was a young stud. I guessed him at about 25, and his work in the gym definitely payed off. Part of his pickup strategy was staying after his shift to lift in front of particular (mostly 20-something) girl members, and it tended to work. I let my gaze roam over his muscular chest and bulging arms obviously before I continued. "I know this is a bit forward, but... I'm looking to blow off some steam. My birthday is coming up, and I was wondering if you could help me with my own present."

Dave wasn't the quickest maybe, but he certainly understood my undercurrent soon enough. We set up all the plans, and I told him where and when to meet me. My birthday really was coming up, and I decided that was as fine a day as any to enact my revenge. That night I told Roger that I'd be going out for drinks with some friends the evening of my birthday, and that we should celebrate together on the weekend. He didn't particularly care, until I laid out my clothes the night before. In the past, if I wore as little as I had lain out, and got a few drinks in me, he got lucky when I came home.

I had chosen a slightly transparent white skirt, which I knew made my ass look irresistible, paired with a sexy red thong. My top was also a bit see through, but black instead of white. I debated back and forth on the bra, and although I laid it out the night before, in the end I decided to skip it. The fabric felt nice on my skin, and when my nipples popped to attention, they looked incredible through the sheer top. I spent a good ten minutes flirting with the mirror, and honestly for the first time in quite some time, I loved what I saw. My legs looked amazing sliding into red heels. They rose to a dangerously high hem, smooth all the way, and to an ass that popped in a way that would make most college girls jealous. My stomach was taut and flat, and although I had never really loved my breasts before, the contrast between my tight stomach and my perky breasts made me realize that I had plenty to work with. I stared at my silver dollar sized nipples, watching them tighten and harden before my eyes, running my fingers lightly over the fabric which didn't hide them. My face looked younger than I felt, and for tonight I had gone a bit flashy on the makeup. Bright red lipstick, dark eyeliner- I wanted to look the part I was going to play.

I took a rideshare to the hotel, the same one from Roger's Christmas parties, and checked in at the front desk. I may have looked a bit out of character for the penthouse suite, but when the money is there (and it's a Wednesday night), the concierge knew better than to question a paying customer. I arrived thirty minutes before Dave and I had discussed, and took two shots of tequila to relax before he arrived. I wandered the hotel room enjoying the view, and heard a knock on the door exactly on time.

I had practiced this in my head a thousand times, and in my living room at least a dozen, but when the time came I still got butterflies. This was it- the point of no return. I flung open the door, and struck a pose for Dave and his three friends. "Come in, boys," I whispered in what I hoped was a sexy voice, then turned and sauntered to the bed with as much wiggle as my hips could manage.

The four of them nearly stumbled over each other entering the room, so I guess my ass could still captivate younger men. Dave closed the door, and I turned and addressed the group. "Now, I don't know how much Dave has told you. But I'm here for one thing. I don't want to know your names, I don't want to connect, I don't even care if I cum. I want to be used. I want you to treat me like a cheap slut."

One of the boys actually started removing his shirt (revealing some VERY nice abs), but I held up a single finger and he stopped. I loved having command of the entire room, and knew that my time as the center of attention was going to be delightful.

"BUT", I continued, "I have just a couple of ground rules. First of all, if I tell you to stop, you will stop. I don't want to remember a safe word or any of that bullshit. If I say we're done, we're done. And second, you will cum in my pussy. Dave had you all get tested, and there is no risk of pregnancy on my end. So you can use my body in a variety of ways, but you WILL finish in my pussy."

I looked around the room at these young men (the oldest looked to be maybe thirty, but probably a shade under) breathing heavily in suspense, and found my nipples hardening under their gaze. My crotch was on fire, and I could feel the wetness soaking into my panties in expectation.

The young man who had started to remove his shirt walked up to me and grabbed me by the neck, kissing me forcefully. With that, the spell was broken, and the room turned into a flurry of men removing their shirts and shoes as quickly as possible. Dave's friends were all as impressive as he was, and I was in for a night of rock hard abs, chiseled chests, and impressive arms. I turned my current partner towards the bed, and lifted his shirt up over his head, breaking our lusty kiss. He opened his mouth to protest when I shoved him onto the bed, and pulled his pants and briefs down in one motion. Before he could complain, I engulfed his cock in my mouth, bobbing up and down hungrily on his shaft.

His dick was not bad, and even soft seemed to be bigger than my husband's. He started to swell in my mouth, and soon I was sucking a very respectable seven inches. I had purposefully held my legs where they were, bending at the waist instead of crawling onto the bed with him, and with my heels on and my skirt stretched tight, the boys behind me were given a great view. My thong was plainly visible, and my legs spread wide to give no hesitation as to my intentions. As I slurped up and down, my lipstick left red rings around this young man's cock, and he moaned when he looked down at me.

I finally felt a hand on my inner thigh, and another joined it on the other leg, as the other two of Dave's friends finally gained their courage. I looked back over my shoulder and saw two nearly identical chiseled bodies. Both young men had strong chests, and my gaze dropped to their tight abs before falling to excited bulges in their boxer briefs. My mouth unoccupied, I looked forward and reminded the young man on the bed to warn me if he was going to cum. My hand reached forward to grasp his shaft, and I absently stroked his cock, wet with my saliva, as the boys behind me started to maul my legs.

One wasted no time in pulling my panties to the side, and I moaned and shuddered slightly as he slipped a finger into my willing pussy. The other was attempting to pull my skirt down, but his buddy's arm in the way was causing problems there. He finally gave up and raised the skirt instead, bunching it around my waist to caress my ass. My head was thrown back in pleasure, relishing the attention and the eagerness, even if these boys lacked a bit of skill. I wasn't here for making love though; I was here to get fucked. Skill wasn't as important today.

Dave spoke, the first words from the boys since they entered the room. "You said you want to be treated like a cheap slut, right?" With this he pulled down his boxers and released a hefty cock, just within my reach. My hand reached for it, and to my surprise he slapped me away.

"Suck it, bitch," and with that he stepped in and slapped me across the face with his cock. I was surprised and electrified. My pussy squeezed involuntarily, and the young man behind me grinned as his finger was captured momentarily.

I opened my mouth in an exaggerated gasp, and Dave took the opportunity I presented. His cock was inside my mouth instantly, my red lips wrapped around the tip. Just the tip seemed to fill my mouth already, and he wasn't even hard yet. My other hand reached for his friend on the bed, and I stroked lightly while my tongue swirled around Dave's cock. The young man behind me spanked my ass aggressively, and I almost choked as my body shot forward onto Dave's dick.

"That's better," Dave's friend said, with a repeated smack on my right ass cheek. His other friend continued his assault on my pussy, until I felt Dave's hands wrap into my hair. I knew what was coming, but still tensed as Dave pulled my head deep onto his hardening dick, fucking my mouth ever so slightly. I tried to take him into my throat, but my gag reflex kicked in and I had to push him off. No easy feat, as he held my head an extra second in his strong hands. I pulled back and his cock left my mouth with an audible pop, as I gasped for air and my eyes teared up slightly.

"Let's fuck this slut," Dave said, and the few items of clothing these boys had left disappeared quickly. I likewise slid my skirt down, and drew my top over my head as I stepped out of my skirt. I stood before the boys in panties and heels, my makeup now destroyed, and loved the feeling of being wanted in an animalistic way.

Sex with Roger was fine. Had always been fine. His dick was okay, a little on the small side. But here, in this room of testosterone and muscles, I felt alive. These boys wanted me carnally. They wanted to ravish me, to devour me; and most of all, I wanted to feel wanted. The lust in their eyes was undeniable, and there was no faking that. My body had done that, and my body controlled this room. I let them take me, I let them grope me roughly, and I was going to let them ravage and use my body, but I would be forever burned into their hearts.

I slipped my panties down, and took a step back to straddle Dave's friend, still on the bed. With my heels on I was tall enough to reach, and I spread my pussy lips with my fingers as I dropped to his lap, my pussy stretching to take the tip of his cock. I paused there for a second, relishing the moment, and suddenly his hands were on my hips and he slid effortlessly into my dripping pussy. He pulled me down onto him roughly, and I beckoned his friends forward and grabbed each of their cocks.

The two men were remarkably similar, and having one of them in each hand was a sense of control I had never felt before. Each had a remarkable physique, a cock which felt a comfortable six inches, and each seemed slightly girthier than what I believed was normal. Certainly girthier than my husband, and I looked forward to being stretched out tonight. The only major difference between them was that one was circumcised while the other wasn't, and I enjoyed playing with the young man's foreskin. Roger was circumcised, and I had never seen an uncut cock before, at least in person. I rocked back and forth on the cock inside me, relishing the moans I elicited, and stroked the two young men until I looked over at Dave.