tagLoving WivesThe Lodger

The Lodger


Peter Bradley, watching TV in the lounge, heard the key in the front door. He checked his watch ... 7.15 pm ... yes, made sense. Must be Vicky, home from work.

It was.

"Hi Peter," she said, brightly, walking into the lounge and seeing him installed in the armchair. "How was your day?"

"Oh you know, the usual," replied Peter.

"Yeah sorry, stupid question."

"Sure getting to know the daytime soaps," he said, smiling at her.

"Something'll turn up, Pete, I know it will," said Vicky.

"Mmm, maybe."

He wasn't hopeful. It'd been over three months since getting laid off from the construction company he'd been with for the last ten years and, what with the Credit Crunch and everything, the building trade was in the doldrums, absolutely nobody hiring. Plus, he was in his late forties now, not past it by any means, but certainly no spring chicken.

Thank god for Paul and Victoria, anyway.

He'd known Paul Connors for years, they'd been friends since meeting through the local golf club. The two men were about the same age and, despite Paul being a successful businessman and Peter a humble builder, they had similar interests and personalities ... probably what had kept the friendship going this long.

Still, he'd been surprised when Paul had made the offer, just after Peter had lost his job. They'd been having a couple of beers, winding down after their usual ultra competitive Saturday two ball, and Peter had been giving in to a touch of self pity.

"Can you believe it? Sheena kicks me out, cleans me up on the divorce, and then I go get fired ... all in the space of a couple of months ... what the fuck am I gonna do, Paul? ... Christ, I don't think I can afford even a fleapit in this town." He slammed his glass down on the table.

"Listen Pete, why don't you come and stay with us for a while?" said Paul. "Just till you find a job and get back on your feet."

"Really?" said Peter. He'd been to Paul's extremely desirable apartment quite a few times and the idea of living there, even if only for a short while, was not unappealing.

The apartment, however, was not the only thing in Paul Connors' life that was extremely desirable, and Peter thought he'd better just check on that.

"What about Victoria?" he asked.

Paul had married Victoria six months ago, a decision that surprised Peter, and indeed most of his other friends, who had Paul Connors down as one of life's perennial bachelors.

Their surprise didn't last long though ... no longer than it took them to meet Victoria for the first time. Because Victoria Graham (as then) ... Victoria Connors (as now) ... was just 23 years old and she was drop dead gorgeous.

Paul nodded and grinned. "Vicky's fine. I've already cleared it with her. She likes you, mate, you know that."

Peter did not know that. His relations with Victoria had thus far been friendly, but not what you would call affectionate. He found it slightly difficult being around her, if he was honest, because she was so damned hot. Even though she was the wife of a friend, it was nigh on impossible not have inappropriate thoughts. Indeed, if Peter had a concern about moving in with Paul Connors, that was it ... would he be able to hide the fact that he fancied the pants off the guy's wife?

Well, he'd been staying with them for a few weeks now and he thought he'd done okay on that score.

Not that it was easy, fuck no. For one thing, Victoria was a trainee lawyer in the big city and she dressed for work in those sharp, professional suits which Peter loved to see women wearing ... well, attractive women anyway. And no trouser suits with Vicky, thank you very much. Why would you if you had legs like hers?

No, always a skirt ... form fitting, usually quite short but never slutty ... sexy as hell.

Like now, for example, just home on a Thursday evening, she was in a dark green number. She'd ditched the jacket in the hallway, slipped off her shoes, and was sat on the sofa facing Peter.

In the mood for a chat, too, it would appear.

"Come on, you know it will," she said, pursuing the point about something turning up.


"Guy like you," she smiled.

"Guy like me?" inquired Peter, smiling back, wondering what she meant.

He was fighting hard not to stare at her fabulous legs. Vicky's skirt was the sort which rode a fair way up her thighs whenever she crossed her legs ... as she'd done twice already since she'd sat down. Damn the woman, thought Peter, didn't she realise the effect she had on him? Shit, he could feel an erection coming on and she'd only been back five minutes!

He was feeling ever so slightly on edge. For the first time since he'd moved in, it was just the two of them this evening. Paul had gone on a short business trip and wasn't due back until tomorrow. Not that he expected something to happen, obviously, let alone had planned anything but ... still ... alone in an apartment with a gorgeous looking girl like Victoria Connors, he was not unaffected by the prospect. Any red blooded male would feel the same.

"I mean, you have so much going for you," she continued. "I think so, anyway."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" he said, and immediately regretted his rather grumpy tone, uncomfortably aware that he was over compensating for the burst of excitement he felt at hearing Vicky say what she'd just said.

Vicky ignored the question. She stretched her arms above her head and gave a tired sounding groan. "God I'm beat," she said.

Peter made an empathetic noise and, since she was now looking up at the ceiling, he treated himself to a quick lust. Not so easy, actually, since he was torn between her legs and the way the arm stretching had caused her breasts to strain against the material of the flimsy lace top she had on. Oh god. His gaze lingered slightly too long and, when he dragged his eyes back to her face, he found she was looking straight at him. Oh double god!

She didn't seem too put out, though ... in fact, she was smiling at him. Maybe she liked being ogled thought Peter, hopefully. In which case, he was the man.

Perhaps she was even flirting with him a little?

Vicky got to her feet. "Listen, I wanna get out of these work clothes. Why don't you fix us both a drink while I go get changed? Mine's a scotch on the rocks."

"Um yeah, sure Vicks," he mumbled.

"Then we can have a nice chat ... okay, sweetie?"


She strolled out of the lounge under Peter's lustful gaze. Oh jeez, look at her arse move in that clingy skirt!

Peter Bradley was no fool and he was fairly sure that Victoria knew what she was doing with this risqué behaviour. She was flirting with him, no question about it. Calling him sweetie, implying that she admired him ... the exaggerated waggle of the hips as she'd sashayed out of the room.

But what to do?

Peter went to the kitchen, fixed a couple of scotches with ice, brought them back to the lounge. Returning to his armchair, he sipped his drink as he waited for Vicky. The TV was still on and he pretended to watch it while his brain whirred.

What to do?

The first thing was he didn't really know what was going on here. Not for sure, anyway. With her husband away, it could be Vicky was feeling a bit mischievous, nothing more. Peter had been there almost six weeks, quite a long time, and she'd probably picked up on how much he fancied her. After all, she must be accustomed to that, mustn't she? ... every man she met probably dreamt of getting into her knickers. Yeah, so maybe she'd decided it would be amusing to tease him a little ... have some harmless fun at his expense. In which case, no problem, he was more than happy to play along.

But what about the other possibility? What if, amazingly enough, Vicky fancied him back and this evening, with hubby away, was about more than harmless fun? What if a spot of adultery was on the agenda?

Peter considered that. He needed to keep living with Paul and Vicky. If anything happened and he had to leave, he would be skint and on the streets. It would be a catastrophe. Was he about to risk that for one night of passion with Victoria Connors? Risk pretty much everything and betray Paul at the same time? ... betray the friend who'd held out a hand in his hour of greatest need?

The more he thought about it, the more of a no brainer it was.

Damn right he'd risk it

Fuck yeah!

Vicky was gone half an hour and, by the time she returned, Peter had worked himself into a state of high excitement. Conscious that it may be no more than wishful thinking, he'd nevertheless pretty much convinced himself Paul's gorgeous young wife was up for it. Feeling nervous, but still thinking clearly, he resolved to take his cue from her. If she wanted to go to bed with him, he'd agree in a heartbeat.

And if she was just teasing?

Well, then that might be quite enjoyable too, albeit very much second best.

His pulse rate, already quickened by the thought of doing something with Vicky, went ballistic when she walked back into the room.

She'd had a shower, judging from the wet, tousled hair, and she was wearing a short, silk robe. A short, silk robe and ... er... nothing. Peter couldn't be cast iron sure but he reckoned she was completely naked underneath. He certainly knew she had no top or bra on because the robe was quite carelessly belted at the waist, and he caught flashes of her breasts as she settled herself on the sofa opposite him. Then she lazily crossed her legs and, in doing so, answered the other question. Yep, just the robe.

Peter himself was clad in jeans and tee-shirt. Loose fitting jeans, which was lucky because his cock had sure jumped to life at the sight of the post shower Victoria Connors. Wow ... if she was just teasing, then she really was quite a tease!

Vicky leaned forward to pick up her drink and Peter got another eyeful of her luscious breasts, through the gap in the robe.

"So, what are you watching?" she asked, leaning back into the sofa and taking a sip of scotch. Her breasts were now just partially visible and somehow that was all the more erotic ... more tantalising.

"Er, nothing really."

She knew damn well what he watching!

Judging by her knowing smile, Vicky was fully aware of the impact she was making and she was enjoying every second of it. God, she was gorgeous. Oh please let her not be just a cock tease!

"So turn it off then, sweetie," she told him.

He picked up the remote and killed the television.

"That's better. Now you can concentrate on me, can't you?"

Again that smile. Knowing. Amused.

"Guess I can," said Peter.

He was very excited but also a little embarrassed she could read him so easily. He was twenty plus years older than Vicky but was feeling like a nerdy schoolboy with a crush on the prom queen.

"Cos I know you'd much rather do that," she pouted.

"Well, you know," shrugged Peter.

He attempted a suave Man of the World expression, tried to hold her gaze, but was soon staring at her legs again. Shit, he was coming across like some sort of drooling idiot. Just the very fact she was so gorgeous, that he wanted her so badly ... and that she clearly knew it ... was giving her all the power in this situation. There was nothing Peter could do about it. He felt quite helpless.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been looking at me these past few weeks, Mr Bradley."

"Um, well you're a very attractive girl, Vicks." He would have liked to be speaking clearly and confidently, but found himself mumbling again.

"What was that, sweetie?" she prodded, shifting position on the sofa, showing a bit more flesh.

Oh god, look at those silky legs! ... the robe had slid right up her thighs and wasn't leaving much to the imagination.

"I said you're a very attractive girl," he blurted.

"Why thank you, Pete."

The unsurprised tone of a gorgeous woman who knows exactly how attractive she is ... a woman who hears this sort of thing from men all the time.

"I don't mind, sweetie. You can look at me all you want. I like it."

"Um, thanks Vicky." He didn't know what else to say, felt a little foolish, but it was a relief to receive permission to ogle, without having to pretend that he wasn't.

"Especially tonight ... you know ... with Paul being away," she grinned.

The remark was suggestive and it stoked Peter up even more. She was playing with him, he knew that, but it didn't mean he wouldn't end up getting what he wanted.

Needed, rather, because he hadn't been with a woman for a long time, what with the Sheena split and everything. He was, in truth, gagging for it. He hoped Vicky wasn't picking up the desperate vibe ... not something women found particularly attractive in a man, that, was it?

They sat in silence for a while and finished their drinks, Peter ogling, Vicky lapping up the adoration.

"Would you like another, Vicks?" he asked, holding up his glass and pointing to hers.

"Sure, sweetie," she smiled. "Hey listen, call me Victoria okay? Paul never calls me that and I'd kinda like it if you did."

"Sure thing," said Peter and he went off to the kitchen to do the honours.

When he returned, Vicky had stretched herself out on the sofa. She was lying on her side, propped up on one elbow, and the robe was hiding even less than before.

"Thanks, sweetie," she purred, as he set the drink in front of her. It was difficult not to jump on her there and then, the way she looked, but Peter somehow managed to control himself and return to his armchair. He was on heat now, a raging hard-on bulging inside his jeans.

Which was where Vicky's amused gaze was lingering as she took a sip of her scotch. "Oooo, Mr Bradley, is that because of me?" she giggled. She swallowed the drink and licked her lips suggestively.

"You know damn well it is, Vicky," he growled.

"Victoria," she reminded him.

"Victoria, sorry."

God, he wanted her badly now. He wasn't too keen on this Victoria stuff but, the way he was feeling, he'd do or say just about anything if it meant he got to fuck the sexy little bitch.

"Do you wanna fuck me, Peter?" It was like she was reading his mind!

"Fuck yeah, Victoria," he exclaimed, remembering to play along with the name game.

"How much?" she teased.

"What?" Peter was confused for a second. She didn't want money, did she? He hoped not because that was one thing he could not give her. He was stony broke.

"How much do you wanna fuck me?" she laughed. "C'mon sweetie, tell me ... how bad do you want me?"

Peter could see that Victoria was really enjoying this.

"More than anything I've wanted in my whole life to this point," he said, hoping that was what she wanted to hear. It also had the merit of being absolutely true.

"Mmm, pretty bad then, I guess," she chuckled, taking another sip from her glass. She patted the sofa in front of her. "Why don't you come sit here, baby?"

Peter, dick pulsing in his pants, gulped down the rest of his drink and went to join her on the sofa. Victoria fished out one of the ice cubes from her glass. "Hot in here, don't you think?" she grinned, and she started rubbing it against her nipples, first one then the other.

For Peter, so close to her now, this was tantalising in the extreme. Every sinew was screaming to rip the flimsy robe off her luscious body and fuck the gorgeous little bitch's brains out. But he knew he had to play things her way if he wanted the evening to end with a bang ... and her way, at the moment, seemed to entail teasing him out of his skull.

She continued with the ice cube, grinning at Peter the whole time, until it had melted away. He really was struggling to keep his hands to himself but something told him that touching her would be the wrong thing to do. There was only one person in control of this scenario and it wasn't Peter Bradley.

"Aw, poor Peter," giggled Victoria, her hand resting in his lap, feeling his cock through his jeans, squeezing it a little. "I shouldn't tease like this, should I?"

She clearly knew exactly what he was feeling.

"Thing is, baby, it's always so quick with Paul. I never get the chance to do some of the stuff I like ... you know what I mean, baby?"

"Yeah, guess so." Completely in thrall to her now.

"Really teasing a man, for example, driving him crazy with desire before he gets to fuck me ... that sort of thing."

Before he gets to fuck me!

Oh yeah!

She undid her robe, let it slide off her body. She was as good as naked now and Peter could see her pussy.

She continued squeezing his cock through his jeans.

"Oh god Vicky," he grunted, praying not to come in his pants like some horny teenager. It felt wonderful, what she was doing, but it was maddening too. So frustrating not to be able to jump on her, to touch her even.

"Who's this Vicky?" she asked, pulling her hand away.

Shit, he'd forgotten!

"Victoria, I mean," he corrected.

She giggled and, resuming her attentions, she unzipped his jeans. She snaked her hand inside his boxers, released his cock.

He was rock hard and his balls, full of spunk, were starting to ache.

Victoria started playing with him. Tickling his balls, squeezing and stroking his cock. Enough to keep him on heat but no more. Couple of times, she brought him right to the edge of exploding and then stopped, enjoying his obvious frustration.

"You're leaking, baby," she giggled, rubbing the tip of his cock with her thumb.

"Wanna fuck you, Victoria," he groaned.

Pleading now but he didn't care.

"I have to fuck you."

"Oh really?" she chuckled.

"Please Victoria."

"Sounds like you're begging, baby."


"Cos that's something else I like," she grinned. "Paul never begs me for sex, he just goes right ahead and does it. This is much more fun!"

Peter picked up on the obvious cue. He got up from the sofa and knelt on the floor in front of the giggling Victoria.

"Please Victoria, I wanna fuck you ... you're so gorgeous ... so sexy ... please please PLEASE let me fuck you."

"That's nice honey but, you know, I always think a man should be naked before he begs a girl for a fuck. Don't you?"


"C'mon get naked for me, baby," she pouted.

Peter stripped off and stood next to the sofa, gazing hungrily down at Victoria. His cock was standing rigidly to attention, still leaking slightly.

"Oooo baby, look how big and hard you are!" she giggled.

Victoria checked the time ... 10.20 pm ... and she wriggled out of her robe, tossed it to the floor. She stretched out languorously on the sofa, arms above her head, legs parted invitingly.

Peter had never in his life felt so on fire. Horny didn't begin to cover it. The sight of the gorgeous Victoria Connors, completely naked, lying right there in front of him ... the lush, shapely female perfection of her body ... was downright unbearable. Fucking her was an absolute necessity now. Non negotiable. She'd teased him beyond what any man could be expected to bear. He despised the idea of himself as a rapist but --

"Take me Peter. Make love to me, baby."

Oh yeah! Oh fucking yeah!

He clambered on top of her, cock tingling in anticipation of her warm, juicy pussy. He moved his granite hard dick to the lips of her cunt, felt how wet she was, knowing now that she wanted it just as much as he did.

"Oh god Vicky," he growled, as he prepared to thrust himself inside her.

"Fuck me fuck me fuck me!" she squealed.

Feeling in control now, very much the man, Peter tantalised Victoria with the tip of his cock, rubbed it against her dripping wet pussy, deliberately delaying the ecstasy.

"Fuck me, you big horny bastard!" panted Victoria, her hands clutching his back, squeezing his arse. "Wanna feel that lovely big cock inside me."

Peter didn't believe in God but he took a second or two to thank Him anyway. He took another few seconds to relish the delicious prospect before him and then -

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