That's No Lady - That's My Wife


She pointed at Nick's crotch, mentioning something Lewis couldn't hear, and Nick's reply made her giggle and blush. He reached out to caress her breasts and she arched her back slightly, forcing them forward and upward. He rubbed her stiff nipples with his thumbs and she closed her eyes and sighed.

Stop this, Lewis wanted to scream, and she seemed to hear him: she grabbed Nick's forearms and asked him to stop. Perhaps sex underwater was okay, but above ground violated some sense of propriety. But she was looking at Nick's crotch again, and reached out to cradle the man's cock and balls, snug in the dark Speedo. He folded his hands behind his back, giving her full permission. She gripped his swimsuit and started to pull it down.

She only pulled it a few inches, just enough to let his dick flop out. Even though not fully hard, it was already large, and growing. As she she took it in her hands, there was more than enough room for her eight slim fingers to wrap around the shaft. "Wow," she said, a word even a novice lipreader could spot. She licked her lips and placed a hand between her legs, moistening herself.

He suggested something and pointed to a darkened corner of the patio area, a place still within Lewis' field of view. She nodded and followed Nick there, slipping her fingertips inside the back of his half-pulled-down Speedo, palming a tight bun.

Lewis shivered at the raw eroticism of the scene. He dropped a hand to touch his own erection, surprised how strong it was. Even though he still nursed a vain hope that she might stop this entirely wrong course of action, her self-confidence, and complete awareness of the effect of her nude body on other men, was enthralling. Her desire was focused, obvious, and purposeful. She would take a man's desire and attention, and pay it all back with interest.

At the dark corner, Nick leaned against the wall, hands behind his head. Deborah peeled his swimsuit down to his ankles. His erection throbbed.

No, no, no, no, thought Lewis. She kneeled and took the tip of Nick's cock between her lips and tongue, tasting it. He gazed down at her with a satisfied smile, as if this were a familiar position for her; as if she had done it before. Her breasts swayed gently as she gradually took in more. Her cheeks tightened and released as she sucked.

Nick held one hand in her hair as she thrust her head back and forth, her breasts quivering. Her beautiful lips, with which she kissed Lewis each night, to which she had carefully applied a slight reddish gloss at the house, were wrapped around this man's thrusting cock. Lewis was painfully hard, ashamed to realize this was turning him on.

Her hair whipped back and forth as she worked faster. Nick watched everything. Her breasts bobbed, her nipples rock-hard. The view most people at poolside had was from behind: her slightly spread thighs flexed, her butt tight, and her pussy lips open and wet. It was probably an amazing show.

I can't watch, Lewis told himself. I especially don't want to watch the ending. He turned on his heel and stormed back inside, almost toppling a slim bikini-clad woman in his path.

That's it, he decided. The next time I see her I'm taking her home. But I'm not going to follow her around and watch her fool around with every man here. I'm her husband. She has to come to me.

He returned to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic.

Deborah did come back, maybe half an hour later, and no longer naked. But all she wore was a red thong. It wasn't hers, and fit badly. Most of her butt cheeks and a bit of pubic hair peeked out. Her breasts jiggled as she walked, and despite himself Lewis felt as infatuated with her as ever. Erotic and beautiful, even in spite of her behavior. Or possibly because of it.

"Hi, sexy!" She said, wrapping an arm around him, her breast squishing against him. She'd had a little more to drink, and tended to become even more animated as her inebriation increased. "Wanna fool around?"

The idea occurred to Lewis, and he couldn't completely discount it, that she might have forgotten she was married to him. Just another party guy to flirt with. That was not a pleasant thought.

"Where'd you get the thong?" he said.

She giggled. "Oh, that's Leah's. I didn't want to walk around compleeeetely naked, huh?"

"Come on, Deborah, I saw you in the hot tub. I saw you giving oral sex."

She stepped back and folded her arms. "No, you come on. All you've done tonight is scold me. I can't believe I thought it was a good idea to bring you here."

"Don't change the subject. I don't want you fooling around with other guys any more."

"Lewis," she whined, "it's just for fun. These people are my friends. Sure, we might do a few naughty things, but we're all adults! We don't need chaperones."

"How can you be someone's wife and then have sex with another man in a fucking hot tub?"

"I wasn't 'having sex,' I was just flirting with him. So I was naked, so what? Fiona was out of swimsuits. And, you know, if you're playing games, and a man and woman are close together, well, sometimes our bodies respond. He gets hard. I get wet. And I don't want to stop enjoying it."

"The man's dick was inside you. Wasn't it."

"Yes... but, he didn't come."

"He didn't come." His tone made clear he didn't believe her.

"He didn't come inside me. He pulled out. Honey, it's just flirting. If they come inside me, that's crossing the line, I know that."

Lewis had no interest in arguing semantics all night. "Let's get your clothes and go home."

Her mouth fell open. "What? Am I not allowed to have any fun at all?"

"If you value our marriage."

She waited for him to back off, to qualify his ultimatum. He summoned up all the resolve he had to stand his ground. His natural instinct was to do whatever would please this beautiful woman. Whatever it would take to keep her happy.

She sighed. "OK. I'll go home early. I'm doing this for you, you know." She hurriedly peeled off the red thong, almost tripping over it.

"What are you doing?"

She handed it to him. "While I get my clothes, why don't you find Leah and return this. Short blonde hair, hot little body. She might have a top on by now, but she's probably still naked.

"In fact," she said, hands on hips, "why don't you fuck her. A quickie while we're waiting. Maybe it'll make you feel better." Nude, she turned and stormed off. Lewis stared after her, mesmerized by the way her bottom swiveled as she walked. I can't let her manipulate me like this, he thought.

Screw Leah, he decided. Not literally. Let Deborah take care of returning the thong. He stuffed it into his pocket.

Actually, he mused, the thing to do would be to get Deborah into another job. This company was toxic.

He stood where he was and waited for his wife to return.

It took longer than he had hoped, but she did come back. She hadn't found her clothes. She probably hadn't looked for them.

She walked arm in arm with Nick, who at least had the decency to pull his Speedo back up and stuff his cock inside. She looked like a schoolgirl in love with the star quarterback, with the girl naked and tipsy, and the guy looking aloof. Nick mostly gazed at her and paid Lewis little attention at all.

"Hi, honey," she said, stopping a couple feet away from him. She was ready to say something more when Nick, standing behind her, reached around and started fondling a breast. She swatted his hand away, but he was not to be deterred. A second later, he started again, and ignored her half-hearted swat. He rolled a nipple gently between thumb and forefinger. She didn't protest again. Her skin was pliant in his fingers, deliciously soft.

Lewis could think of nothing to say.

"Honey, I'm, um-" Deborah hesitated as Nick reached for her other breast, now caressing both. She tried to regain her composure, but the drinks she'd had and Nick's hands were making it impossible. "I'm uh, oooh! .... um, Nick invited me over, so I'm going to go to his place..."

Nick had moved in right behind her, bodies touching, and let one hand drift down over her belly. "Nick, no!" she said, but he pressed on, brushing her pubic hair, finding the moist slit between her legs.

"So I'll be at Nick's and, uh-"

Nick inserted the tip of his middle finger in her wet pussy, exploring.

"Ni-ick!" she chided. "I'm talking to my husband!"

Nick pushed in deeper, which made her gasp. Lewis saw her pussy lips fold and stretch around Nick's finger.

Lewis knew that Deborah wasn't unhappy at all, that her scolding of the man molesting her naked body was just words. She sounded angry, but her eyes were bright, and she had the slight scarlet flush in her cheeks and neckline that he recognized from their sexual adventures at home. No, she wasn't angry at all. Instead, she was close to having an orgasm.

"So, uh..." She looked at him plaintively; if she could somehow just manage to say what she needed to, then she could be free; but it was so hard to put the words together. "... Nick'll take me home, uh, don't wait up for me?"

Lewis glowered at his wife, standing there naked, letting another man squeeze her tits, stick a finger up her pussy, right in front of her husband, and seemingly in denial that she was going anything wrong. If he kept her here long enough, face flush, nipples rock hard, pussy lips soaking Nick's fingers, she would come, moaning, right here, standing in front of him. Right in front of everyone. And she wouldn't care. In fact, it would only make her climax harder.

The image of this made his own swelling dick strain against his slacks, blood surging into it. His wife was being willfully, brashly debauched, and welcoming it with a lustful hunger. This not only appalled him, but fascinated and aroused him. What's happening to me? he thought. And if I keep watching this, getting more and more turned on...

Deborah still waited for his answer.

"I can't keep you here," he said. "Go."

Obligation fulfilled, Deborah turned to Nick, whose finger popped out like a gasoline nozzle from the tank of an absent-minded driver. More of the fake scolding continued as his hands roamed over her body. Then she leaped into his arms, kissing him, and he held her by her bottom as they left the room.

Well fuck, that's it, Lewis thought. She's gone. Right in front of me.

In a clear state of mind, he would have retreated to a private area to let his erection subside. Instead, he stood where he was, his imagination swimming with visions of Deborah in different situations, all the revelations of the night swirling together. Would she wait until Nick got her home to give herself up to him? Or was he fucking her in the back seat of his car right now?

He needed to find a bathroom to go jerk off, let off some tension. It wouldn't take long. He was hard enough that if he wasn't careful-

"Hi, Lewis!" Fiona appeared at his side. "Having a good time?"

"No," he said, distracted. "No, I'm not. My wife... she walked out of here naked with another man." He was regaining his train of thought. "No fault of yours, but this party really sucks."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Fiona said, looking concerned. "Who was it?"

Why does it matter? he thought. "Nick."

Fiona brightened. "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this. But I had a weekend fling with him, and oh, god, he wore me out. He-"

He waved her off. "Enough. Please." His mind had quickly substituted Deborah in place of Fiona, moaning in pleasure as Nick fucked her, eyes closed, fingernails digging into his back, breasts swaying with every thrust.

"Sorry." She laid a hand on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear. "I saw you on the deck, watching her. I honestly thought you were going to come, too."

"What?" Stop it, Fiona, he thought. In his mind, Nick and his wife were seconds away from climaxing. Back here, Lewis was overheating and in danger of coming too. Fiona was a sexy woman on her own, and standing intimately close to him.

"Even now," she said, feeling his dick through his trousers. "Your wife is beautiful, and I can tell, even though you don't like it, what she's doing is turning you on." She gently rubbed the head of his cock between thumb and fingertips.

"Please don't do this," he warned, fearing that it was already too late. He was reminded of old cartoons where the sun was so hot the thermometer's mercury would burst through its top.

"That has to-" she began.

"Dammit, you-" Lewis didn't finish the sentence. He shivered and gritted his teeth as he came, spurting hot semen into his trousers. Even after the first pulse, he was trying in vain to hold back, but other muscles and sensations had taken over. "Oh god..." How worse could things get? How obvious was it to everyone around what happened? Only a matter of time before the wet spot soaked through--

Fiona looked shocked for a moment. Lewis feared she would either start laughing, or recoil in horror, or drag him to the front door and kick his ass out. But she did none of these. Instead, her demeanor instantly changed when she realized what she had done.

"Oh my god, Lewis, I didn't mean to do that!" she whispered, taking him by the arm. "Shit, what do we do... Here, come with me. We'll change you into some clean clothes." He followed.

She deftly guided him between groups of guests, along a corridor toward the back of the house, and up a staircase. Lewis wondered if it was now apparent what had happened, if it had soaked through his slacks. He didn't have the heart to take a look.

"This way," she said, guiding him by the shoulder. He noticed her fragrance, a pleasant reminder of their first meeting, just a few hours ago, before this nightmare happened. "I am so sorry, I just feel horrible!" Her right breast brushed against him as they entered a darkened bedroom. She flipped on the lights. The room was furnished, but evidently not lived in. A queen-size bed, immaculately made, lay next to a mahogany nightstand. A door to the left opened into a private bathroom.

Fiona locked the bedroom door. Lewis welcomed the privacy. The noise from the party downstairs was muted.

"I think there are still some clothes left from my ex-husband," she said. "You can wear his home. I'll have your slacks dry-cleaned and get them back to you." She looked him in the eye, her pretty face showing grief. "You had a horrible time tonight, and it's my fault."

He shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. You're not the one who caused it."

She looked pained. "I know. Debbie. Here, have a seat on the bed." She carefully crouched in front of him and untied his shoes.

"I can do this," he demurred. "If you can get the other pants..."

"No, this was totally my fault. Let me get you fixed up." She doffed his shoes and socks, arranging them neatly to the side. "Okay, stand up," she said, taking his hand. She unbuckled and unzipped him, then gingerly pulled down his slacks and boxers, avoiding the sticky semen. She didn't make a scene over it, neither titillated nor repulsed at the sight.

She helped him step out of his pants, and left them on the floor while she led him to the bathroom. "Stand here, and we'll clean you off." She soaked a clean washcloth in warm water and soap.

He glanced at himself in the mirror; looking pretty pathetic, standing there in a dress shirt and tie, with no pants. Fiona was inexplicably going out of her way to tend to him; such a turnabout from the wicked smile she'd shown when fondling him downstairs. Or maybe not: she was still touching him again.

She crouched down and cleaned his thighs and waist first, frequently rinsing the cloth and applying another dot of liquid soap. The warm water felt luxurious. In happier times, he thought, this might be a good spa service.

"I have to be careful not to get this dress wet," she said. "I would take it off, but I'm not wearing anything underneath." As very pleasant images flooded into his mind, she started cleaning his scrotum. He quickly grew hard, and stammered out an apology.

"Don't feel bad," she said. "It actually makes it easier to clean. Believe me, I'm not trying to make you come again." She rinsed the cloth, and applied it to his shaft. "If this is getting too much for you, let me know."

"OK so far," he said.

She grinned. "It's a good thing I didn't take my dress off."

The image of her doing this naked made him instantly very stiff. "Careful..." He tried to distract himself by thinking of other things.

Too soon, in his opinion, she was done, and stood up. "There, good as new. I'll lock the bedroom door and get you some pants while you air-dry. Then you can head on home."

Lewis was about to simply say "thanks", but was reminded why he was heading home alone, and grew bitter. "Maybe I could just take the rest off, go downstairs, and join the party."

"You could," Fiona said. "It's not the best idea, though."

"No, it isn't."

They walked out toward the bed. "Stay right here," she said. "I'll lock the door so no one walks in on you. I'll be right back."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, Lewis. You're taking this very well. I want to make it up to you. I promise, your slacks will be as good as new." She kissed him lightly on the cheek and left. The door clicked as she shut it. Her scent lingered on his cheek, and he realized he was still hard.

Even through the walls, he could still hear the party going strong downstairs. Perhaps Deborah was at Nick's by now; eyes bright, mouth laughing, breasts bouncing as she stumbled into his bedroom. Maybe her pussy was dripping with anticipation. Maybe...

I have to stop obsessing over this, he thought. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, trying to collect his thoughts without slipping into sexual fantasies. It wasn't easy, and he didn't really succeed. He wondered what was taking Fiona so long. After more than an hour, he fell asleep.

He awoke to a knock on the door, then the click of a key in the lock. The party noise was gone; the air seemed thick with silence. Fiona peeked inside, and then let herself in.

"Oh, shit! Lewis, I am so sorry," she said, anguished. "I completely forgot about you! I went to find some pants for you and I completely forgot! I feel awful about this!" She walked over to the bed and sat at his side.

He didn't say anything; he was taken by the sight. His dick, open to the air, began to harden. Fiona wore only a pair of dark silk boxers, to which her fair skin and bare breasts made a sharp contrast. She noticed what he was staring at and smiled apologetically. "Oh, when I'm home alone, I don't bother getting dressed up for bed," she said. She pointed to her boxers. "If it's really warm, I don't even wear these."

She glanced between his legs, noting his response. "Would it be more comfortable if I put a shirt on?"

"No, that's fine," he said. "What time is it, anyway?"

"Almost quarter of four. Everybody's gone. I was almost ready to climb in bed before I remembered." She looked glum. "I am so sorry. This is terrible, what I've done. I've been so rude."

"It's OK. I don't think you meant it," he said. "I'd better go home now."

"I looked around, but I don't have any of my ex-husband's pants left," she said. She laid a hand on his thigh. Lewis couldn't tell if there was ulterior intent. "The swim trunks I know I had, but I can't find. I know, that's no use to you at all. But... it's so late, why don't you stay tonight? I'll get your trousers dry-cleaned first thing in the morning."

Lewis pondered this. The idea of sleeping on the metaphorical couch was not appealing. Even less so if he happened to misread any sexual advances from Fiona that weren't really there. She was warmhearted, and beautiful, and nearly naked, and comfortable around his obvious sexual arousal; but he didn't trust his instincts or perceptions any more. There had been more than enough humiliation for one night.

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