Guilty Pleasures Ch. 09

But talking about that seemed unwise and premature.

"But that's for another day, right? And probably best left unexamined for now, right?" Monica said almost fearfully.

"Yes..." I said slowly. Then why are you actually examining these thoughts right now, Monica?

"Good.. So we are on the same page," she said, as if that unsettling exchange had somehow settled her. Then she instantly got nervous again.

"Here's the thing, Clark. I got the call from my lawyer this afternoon. I haven't even told Wanda."

"What call?"

"The judge approved the divorce. As of noon tomorrow, I am a free woman, free and 'unStained'."

"Congratulations," I exclaimed happily. I raised my glass, and she leaned forward with hers, clinking them together with a smile of relief.

Then she sat back and pulled into herself again. "But I have one final regret. An urgent one. And I have only one last chance to rectify it."

I opened my mouth, but she went on quickly.

"The divorce is a good settlement. A fair one. And while that is what I wanted... You have no idea how mad I still am at that bastard, Clark. How much anger still boils around in my insides, letting off steam at random moments, or just cooking me alive inside."

I felt my face grow long as I listened quietly. I was ready for the venting session to end all venting sessions. She needed it. I was here for her.

"The sonofabitch gets no fucking punishment, Clark! None. I... I..." she cut herself almost as soon as she got going.

"Just let it all out, Monica," I reassured her. "Keep venting that steam."

"Oh, piss off, man," she grumbled at me for interrupting her. "I don't need to vent. The problem is, he isn't getting punished for years of douchebag manipulation. For any of the rest of it, either. Aside from one candy-ass slap on the cheek our last evening in the same house, I never even so much as called his mangy ass out, not even once!"

I was not used to this kind of anger from her.

"That is why, irrespective of the valuable and important conversation we had just moments ago when we first sat down, I want to shove all of what we said in a box.That is why I need... I need you, Clark, to fuck every last brain cell out of my body tonight, while I am still that cocksucker's wife."

"What?"

"I said that I want..." Monica stopped because I started laughing. "I wasn't joking," she said in a small, anguished voice.

That cut off my laughter, but not my smile. "I'm sorry, Monica. I was just thinking that it is too bad the thing finalizes tomorrow, instead of waiting until Monday. We could have invited Stain to one last Bridge Night at Yancey and Wanda's..."

"I don't want to be in the same building with that..."

"Because," I said, overriding her, "every single time I fantasized about cuckolding that bastard with you since way back in the spring, I had you laid out spectacularly over their kitchen table, making you come every way I could until he heard and came in to see us fucking with wild abandon, while both of us flipped him off."

Monica stared at me, open-mouthed. Given the variety of vivid thoughts that she had just triggered in me, it was a very good look. "You've been fantasizing about me for a while?" she asked softly. "The first time I even thought about you and me in bed was the evening after I proved I still had what it took to trigger Stephanie's competitiveness!"

I chuckled at that, then I leaned forward and took both her hands in mine.

"Monica, I need you to understand something. I need to be completely honest. My fantasies were mostly about giving The Stain a poke in the eye with a sharp stick. You were just the lovely, obviously pleasurable, fantasy means of doing it."

"Oh, so I'm a sharp stick, am I?"

"The sharpest," I grinned. We stared at each other, smiling... a little hungrily. I took a deep breath. "But..." I said, sobering. She looked at me, clearly expecting me to go where I was going to go, but not sure how I was going to get there, or which way I'd end up facing when I got there. "But, how much have you thought this through? How long?"

"Clark, if you don't want to do..."

"Hold it right there. Right now, in this moment here with you, I really, really want to do this. I mean, come on. In fact, if we don't declare a stop to this very soon, I'm going to start taking off your clothes."

She blushed at that. "I'm... I'm sure. And I'm not."

"You are not helping here."

"Look, I think that I don't want you all tangled up in my mental recovery, okay?" Monica said swiftly. "God knows if I'll even be able to look at you tomorrow, or if you'll be able to look at me!"

Sorry, girl. Once I started really looking at a woman, I apparently did not seem able to stop...

"But Clark, what I absolutely know for certain is that if I don't do this, if I let him get away with everything without a broad gesture to strike back, I'll end up hating him the rest of my life, and that will poison every relationship I have with anyone forever. It might cost you and me any interesting future we might have had. It might cost us even being able to hang out that much ever again. Can you pay that price? I... I can. I need to."

I just looked at her, a half smile on my face. My mind raced inside. Did I love this woman? Did I need or foresee a future with her? Honestly, no. I had only recently begun to really even think of her a good-looking woman in her own right, not just as Stain's unfortunate bride. Taking her top off in my back yard had accelerated that thought process.

But did I need for Monica to be happy? Yes. She was my friend. If I lost her this way, but it helped heal her? Worth it.

I nodded, not happily, but I nodded.

Monica slipped momentarily, then leaned toward me again. "If it helps you decide, I'm offering a truly astounding amount of fellatio tonight as just one part of the deal..."

We both laughed hysterically. I mean literally hysterically. We could barely keep upright in our seats, and could not speak for how our sides kept heaving involuntarily.

Finally, I caught my breath... and reached out to undo the top button on the creamy business blouse she wore. Her laughter also faded, but her breathing remained deep. Her eyes fixed on my fingers and she leaned even closer to me.

She had not taken time to prepare for this. I could tell because no woman who was planning on demanding hot, steamy sex shows up at a guy's house wearing such a... comfortable bra. It was the sort of bra my ex-wife used to wear to the office on any regular workday. It was vaguely flesh-toned, with wide straps, and plain cups that were padded just enough to prevent the visible appearance of any 'tenting' due to the cold A/C of office buildings.

It was still damned exciting to see that bra, as far as I was concerned.

I tugged the last button of the blouse open, pulling her shirttails from the waist of her skirt as I did so, and she swiftly shrugged it off, barely struggling with the cuffs. Then her hands leapt forward to my own shirt from the office. I had ditched the tie in my car in the company parking lot, but had not bothered to put on any other shirt when I got home, to save on laundry.

As her fingers danced along my buttons, we both leaned far enough forward for me to reach around her and work the frankly excessive number of hooks in back of her bra free. I leaned back, pulling the bra with me, and the cups of the bland garment relinquished their anything but bland cargo. The movement pulled her fingers away from the front of my now almost fully unbuttoned shirt, but I was able to drink in the view.

Firm, rounded teardrops, those breasts were going to make generous handfuls for me any moment now. Her nipples were dusky, with small, puffy aureoles surrounding them. They stuck firmly outward an incredible distance. A thick bra would indeed be a necessity if one wanted to conceal these eager signposts.

"Well done, Monica," I breathed, staring.

She laughed. "You saw them already, and you know it."

"Not this close! All I got was a blurry reflection in a laptop screen before you caught me," I grumped. "But yeah, they were amazing then too." I stared a moment longer, then raised my hands, pausing halfway to those breasts. "May I?" I asked almost absently.

Rather than answer, Monica leaned in again, and rather than finish unbuttoning my shirt, she slid her hands into the open front and caressed my own, still defined, if dad-bod soft pecs. Her thumbs rubbed back and forth over my sensitive, perked up nipples.

With a shiver, I took this as a yes, and took those lovely mounds into my hands. My first gentle squeeze had me groaning happily in pleasure as my fingers sank into the firm, heavy, barely yielding flesh. Oh fuck, yes. These were some wonderful tits...

Monica swiftly pushed my shirt off of my shoulders, and down my arms. I had unbuttoned the cuffs and it was fairly easy to free my arms, even though the bottom two buttons were still fastened. I slid off my seat and knelt on one knee before her seat, my face now inches lower than hers. One hand, as it freed itself from the sleeve of my dress shirt snapped out to grasp an eager breast once more, but my other hand snaked up behind Monica's head and through her blonde hair the color of fresh straw.

I smoothly pulled her face down to mine and I kissed her.

I had wanted a tender brush of lips, a gentle initial exploration, expressing a final question of 'Are you sure?'

This was not that kiss. The damned thing had a life of its own and the two of us were trading spit and tongues from the first touch of our lips. My grip on the back of her head went from gentle to relentless. Her arms in turn enveloped me, and pulled me upward and against her in turn.

Stan was an idiot not to have done anything and everything this woman had asked.

Of course, I had apparently not given Rebecca all she wanted during our marriage either, which made me a fool too, I guessed.

But I had never been mean to Rebecca. Never manipulated her. Never denigrated her...

I popped my lips from Monica's and growled, "Fuck you, Stan."

"Stain," she corrected me, while stealing another quick kiss.

"Stain," I agreed. "Fuck you, Stain. Fuck you left, right, up and down. Fuck you with the leafy end of a pineapple."

"Oh, I like that image!" Monica laughed. "Now stand up!"

"Huh?" I asked, already complying. Her hands bent to work at my fly.

"I can't keep sucking your cock here and there all night long, if I don't start now, right?" she laughed in an almost fey manner. My work slacks came free and, along with my boxers, slid down to puddle around my ankles, leaving me in the fairly awkward position of having my shirt still buttoned around my waist.

I concentrated quickly on undoing those last two buttons and tossing the shirt aside. When I returned my attention to Monica, I saw that she had opened her phone and had the video app open!

"Monica!"

"He isn't properly cucked if he doesn't have to watch, is he?" she almost snarled. Then she pasted a brilliant, beautiful smile on her face, with just her face in the picture.

"Hey snookums! I wanted to send you a last message or two while I am still your loving wife." She zoomed swiftly out enough to show that she was topless, her beautiful tits framed perfectly. That seemed to me almost more like a parting gift than a final punishment, but...

Then she leaned over near me, bringing my bare, extremely erect cock into view as well. She rested her cheek on my shaft, nodding slightly to give me the barest of caresses, which still had my member visibly shivering in the video.

"Stain?" she addressed the camera. "After ten years of your sad, meager, chronically floppy dick, I can go out and get as much high-quality cock as I want now. And I am starting with this beauty," she went on, dragging a fingernail slowly up my length. "And this one is special, Stain. Because right now? I'm still your wife. Your little woman. Your toy. Your plaything. And I'm doing this!" With that, she turned and just slid my head down between her lips. She moved the camera in closer until pretty much her mouth and its guest were all that was visible as she began to suck me gloriously in and out.

It was not Academy Award-level cinematography. The picture wobbled side to side, and shook. And it kept going in and out of focus slightly. But the video would serve its purpose of showing a full screen of nothing but my painfully hard, veiny cock sliding in and out of Monica's mouth.

Honestly, she was being cruel. I hated Stain, and thought he deserved the cruelty, but I was wondering just what kind of callous manipulation this douche had inflicted on Monica to garner this level of brutal response from such a sweet woman.

But mostly, I did not care, because holy shit, this was a nice blowjob. Monica's tongue sought out just the right spot with each stroke, her lips slid effortlessly up and down the top half of my cock, and her hand rubbed me up and down in smooth, elegant, gentle precision.

And then, she shifted position and suddenly I felt my cock sinking past the back of her throat. The phone's video recording showed all of me slip into her mouth, her nose nuzzling into my belly in stark, unforgiving video.

Monica gargled on my cock for a few moments, then slid it free with a gasp. "You always liked it when I deep-throated you, didn't you, Stan? Well that there was a lot more work than you ever required, Snookums. This beautiful, purple helmet was just now way deeper in my throat than you could ever reach, no matter how hard I tried. And I tried, Stain. I always did my best. But now it is time for me to take the best, and that ain't you, baby.

Her free hand was jacking me now furiously, her other holding the camera in position to take in every detail and her lips and tongue resumed stimulating my cock beyond endurance. I gasped, grunting in warning that I was about done, about to lose all semblance of restraint.

Monica felt it too, and she hissed, "Watch this, asshole!" With that, she jacked me furiously, and extended her tongue slowly to lick the tiny bundle of ultra-concentrated nerves at my frenulum.

"Oh, Fuck!" I gasped, and creamed a first shot of jizz that coated her extended tongue, and from there up over her upper lip. Monica stroked me even harder, and I just kept pumping out semen across her beautiful face, splashing white on her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids, and her forehead.

Whatever noises I had made during that extended ejaculation, they were replaced by an explosive gasp of utter fulfillment, and I looked down to enjoy the utter mess I had made of her face.

Monica just held her eyes shut in pleasure, licking her upper lip clean of my spume. She smacked her lips, "Delicious!" Then she opened her eyes and smiled into the video, sticky jism dripping over all her lovely face.

"That's right, Stain. I just made him come on my face. Just like I never let you do. Because I just had to feel his manly batter all over my face, it was a need you never managed to make me feel, Snookums. But I felt that need just now, and the results... feel fabulous!" She made a kissy face, a cummy kissy face into the camera, and cut the recording.

She looked up at me dreamily. "That was amazing, Clark. And for the record, I always wanted him to come on my face, but he Just. Never. Earned. It."

She quickly sucked my tip dry, then licked away what cum she could reach with her tongue. She then held out her hand and I grabbed her one of the large pool towels stored nearby. She wiped her face clean of the portion of my ejaculation that she had not caught in her mouth, or licked clean already.

She and I stood there and looked at her phone. A little reluctantly, she scrubbed back and forth through the video she just took. "I've never taken a video of sex before," she told me almost absently.

"I've never so much as gotten out a camera," I replied, somewhat distracted by the images on her screen. Okay, a lot distracted.

"That's what I meant," she agreed. Then she sighed and pressed the Send as Email Attachment button.

"Now?" I almost yelped.

"Now," she said firmly. "I want him to have as much time as possible to enjoy life as a cuckold before the divorce processes." I found that I was perfectly fine with this little vindictive streak I was seeing in Monica. She'd earned it the hard way.

SUBJECT: Divorce Stuff

Stan,

Hey. Just a quick video I want you to watch. Let's call it my thoughts on where we go from here...

[CRM001.mp4]

Monica

With a whoosh, the email was sent. Monica looked at me, and in a flash was in my arms, planting an enormous, happy kiss on my lips. She still tasted a bit like, well, me, but that was fine. She was more than fine. Our tongues fenced again, and my hands ran down her smooth back to the worsted wool trousers covering her supple ass. What an amazing handful.

"These pants have to go," I said around her tongue.

"Zips in back," was all she said in reply.

Yes, indeed the trousers did, and I tugged the invisible zipper down. As the slacks went loose, I pushed them down. We both kicked our feet free of our pants and shoes in a tangled mess. Again, she had not dressed for this kind of occasion, and she now wore only a beige, utilitarian pair of panties, loose-fitting, with just a light elastic at the waist. Yeah, those had to go too, despite how weirdly sexy they were. Despite the fact that Monica said she had been considering something like this to strike back at Stan, there could no more compelling evidence than those granny panties that this was also a spontaneous act...

I released her, and asked, "Stand back. I want to look at you." She smiled, and we separated, standing far enough apart to fully take in each other's naked form. Monica's straw-blonde hair pooled around her firm, bare shoulders. Her body was a mass of supple, mature, restrained curves, arching out spectacularly in all the best spots, while still curving inward a bit, right wherever that was needed. Her pubic hair was naturally sparse, giving me a peek at the inviting crease it grew around.

I paused. She had sent the video. Stan was well and truly cucked, wasn't he? If we were to stop... right then... could we dial back whatever giant pothole this might be putting in our friendship, in any potential future someday?

"There is no way now to put this genie back in its bottle, is there?"Monica said, echoing my thoughts. "Can't just say, 'Well, that was fun'?"

"I regret nothing," I said firmly.

"Me either," she laughed. "I guess that means we need to do it some more!" I laughed with her, but she soon stopped, staring down at my erection, which had never abated much, but which was now hardening fully once more. "Yeah, I'm going to need you to fuck me with that. Right now."

"Well, maybe not instantly," I murmured, taking a step back toward her and thinking of how I wanted to put my face between those curvaceous thighs first.

"Instantly," she insisted. "Now." She paused, and looked toward my kitchen. "Wasn't your fantasy laying me out on the kitchen table and just driving into me?" she asked with flush on her face.

"Well, it was Wanda and Yancey's kitchen table, actually," I chuckled.

Monica looked at me with a quick grin. "Yeah? Well, I do not have the patience to get dressed and walk over there and throw them out of their own kitchen while they are probably still eating dinner, just so we can screw between the place settings." She started walking toward my kitchen. I of course followed.

Her ass was so fucking enticing as she walked. I'd seen it in a bathing suit. I'd seen it in a bikini, but this was just... electrifying. Every instinct I had wanted me to bend her forward over the table when we reached it and do her like that. But I wanted to look in her eyes when I first entered her...