The Politician's Wife Ch. 02by0131aj©
Wendy had spent a sleepless night. The party had ended late but that wasn't what had kept her awake. Her mind was a whirl as she tried to reconcile the fact that when she had hugged her friend, Alison, she had been assaulted by the unmistakeable scent of sex. Worse still, was the equally strong scent of her own husband's aftershave. Peter always wore that brand and it was so expensive she doubted if anyone else at the party would buy it. Besides it was he who had led Alison from the party to show her an email from her own husband but that was obviously just an excuse for them to find some time alone.
The more she thought about it, the more she realised that Alison had been missing from the party for some time. She couldn't remember seeing Peter during that time either but she had assumed he was mingling with the other guests. It was certainly a large enough house, and a large enough guest list for her not to have thought twice about that. Not, at least, until she had embraced her so-called friend and suddenly knew what they had been doing. As soon as she looked Alison in the eyes she knew the truth but, being the professional politician's wife, she did not make a scene. Instead, she had retired to bed as soon as the last of the guests had left and began to think about what to do next. Wendy never did anything without planning her moves in advance but this had totally shocked her.
As soon as Peter had left for work, Wendy went through to his office. Now, sitting at his desk, she wondered what she should look for and what she should do should she find anything. She decided to start with his computer and see if there had been any secret emails between her husband and that bitch. She knew Peter had had countless affairs but he had always kept them away from the home they shared, away from their family, but now he had brought it to their doorstep and she had to find out exactly how much trouble she was in.
A long time ago she had discovered his password which had privately amused her since it was their wedding date he had used. Wendy often thought of that day as the day everything had started to go wrong; or that night. Wendy was still a virgin on their wedding day and it was only when they left their wedding celebrations to retire to the honeymoon suite that she found out just what Peter was looking for in a wife.
She had been shocked the first time she saw him naked, not by his physical presence but by the size of his erect penis. Wendy didn't have anything else to measure her new husband against but it looked enormous and, although she knew what was expected of her, she just couldn't imagine how such a thing was possible. "That" thing could never fit inside her, could it?
Peter had been surprisingly gentle with her and, although it hurt like nothing she had ever known, she gritted her teeth and performed her wifely duties. It was only when he "finished" and she began to feel him soften inside her that things started to go wrong. He suggested to her that she might want to clean his "cock" with her mouth. God, she hated that word. The thought of doing what he wanted repulsed her and she told him so in no uncertain terms.
To his credit, Peter hadn't pushed her that night and they both soon fell asleep in each other's arms. In the weeks and months that followed, however, his demands had become more and more insistent and more and more depraved. Eventually she had to tell him that sex was simply a means of making babies and that was all it would ever be to her. If he had to do these other things then he would have to find someone else to do them with.
And so, over the years, their intimacies had grown less and less frequent and, now that they were getting a bit older, she had thought that there would be no more concerns in that area. She had even considered inviting her husband back to her bed, certain that he would now feel the same way. Obviously, she was wrong.
She entered the password, hit the return key and the computer sprang to life. As the desktop became available she saw to her horror that she wouldn't even have to search through his emails. There, facing her, was a new folder with the simple title, "ALISON".
Wendy simply stared at the folder for a few moments, too afraid of what she might find when she opened it. Having come this far, however, she knew there was no going back. When she did eventually pluck up the courage to click on "ALISON" she was momentarily deflated. She was now faced with two new folders, one entitled "PHOTOS" and the other, "EDITED VERSION".
She decided to play safe and clicked on "PHOTOS" but nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see. There was the woman she had known all her adult life, the woman whose husband had risen through the ranks of their political Party at the same time as Peter, the woman with whom she had shared all her joys and sorrows and grown closer to every day just as their two husbands had become the two stars of the Party and, now, were the two men vying for the top job.
Instead of the elegant, graceful woman she had known all these years before her was some sort of slut performing all kinds of obscene acts with her own chauffeur, in her own husband's car. And somehow these photos had found their way into Peter's possession and onto Peter's computer.
Slowly, almost in shock, Wendy got up from her husband's desk and walked on shaking legs over to the drinks trolley. Pouring a very large measure of gin into the crystal glass, she added a small amount of tonic water and sat back down. Clicking on each of the small photos in turn, they enlarged to the full screen size but, if anything, that was even worse.
The first showed Alison with the chauffeur's penis in her mouth. As if that wasn't bad enough, the second showed her topless, sitting on top of the chauffeur, tugging at her own nipples. Yet another showed Alison, on her hands and knees with the chauffeur kneeling behind her, pulling her head back by her blonde hair and the expression on her face told exactly what the chauffeur was doing to her. She was dressed in a way Wendy could never have imagined dressing herself. Her tiny black bra failed miserably to contain her swinging breasts and her stockings were torn, obviously from the attentions of the chauffeur. But it was Alison's knickers that both excited and disgusted Wendy. She knew what thongs were, had seen enough of them in lingerie boutiques to know that they existed but Wendy had always dismissed them as something a whore, a slut would wear. Now she could see that her friend's only protection from near nakedness was a tiny strap that separated the cheeks of her bottom but did nothing to hide her dirty hole nor anything else for that matter. Wendy was horrified and, at the same time, utterly fascinated. As she clicked on one photo after another, each one more and more depraved than the one before, she could feel her face burning in embarrassment.
Getting up from the desk once more, Wendy poured herself another drink before returning to the record of her friend's depravity. As she sat down again, Wendy inadvertently squeezed her thighs together and realised with a start that she felt moist between her legs, moist in a way she hadn't felt for years.
She looked back at the screen and continued to examine the photos, one by one. The more she looked, the more she drank and, transfixed as she was, Wendy realised she was getting quite drunk; quite drunk and quite aroused. She took a deep breath, took another long drink then pulled her skirt up over knees. Touching herself through her knickers, she traced her fingers up and down her slit, realising she had never touched herself like this. She wondered if she had been missing out all these years, wondered if Alison was simply doing what all her friends were doing and that she was the odd one out.
Still clicking her way through the sordid photos, she hooked a finger under the elastic of her knickers and pulled them to one side, vaguely aware of how brazen she was being and of how any of the staff could walk in on her at any point. She ran one finger along her wet slit and then back up to circle her clit, her lips beginning to swell and her nipples tingling like never before. Almost instinctively her legs parted wider and she pulled her knickers further to the side before sliding her finger deep into her pussy.
She realised her nipples were now as hard as bullets and quickly unbuttoned her plain blouse. Looking down she looked at her plain cotton bra and just knew that Alison probably never wore anything as plain and sexless as this. Undeterred she pulled her bra down and freed her large breasts, squeezing her nipples between fingers and thumb, one after the other, and the touch sent shock waves throughout her body that she barely recognised.
Standing up she reached behind her back, opened the clip on the waistband of her skirt, pulled the zip down and let it fall to the floor. Taking another mouthful of her gin and tonic, she sat back down, pushing her plain knickers down to her knees. She couldn't believe she was doing this but seeing the image of her friend on the screen, her friend who seemed to be crying out in ecstasy as her chauffeur pummelled her pussy from behind, she pulled earnestly at both her engorged nipples before slipping one hand down to her desperate cunt.
Still staring at the screen, Wendy began wanking hard, rubbing furiously at her engorged clit with two fingers while squeezing and pulling at her nipples. Her breathing was becoming fast and shallow.
"'Oh my," she gasped, still the polite wife of the leader-elect of the Party, as she felt herself edging inexorably towards her climax.. "Oh, Wendy. Oh, Peter, is this what you've been talking about? Is this what I've been missing? Yes! Yes!"
Her pussy was on fire now and Wendy couldn't have stopped even if the whole household staff were to suddenly walk into the room.
"You fucking bitch! You filthy fucking whore!" she screamed, not knowing if she was talking to herself or to her friend as she involuntarily stretched her legs even wider, her knickers cutting into her thighs, her hips rising off her husband's chair as her fingers plunged deeper and deeper and her orgasms began to roll mercilessly through her body.
It was quite some time before Wendy opened her eyes again. She suddenly felt very vulnerable and very ashamed. Her fingers were still buried in her pussy, her knickers were still at her knees and her skirt was still on the floor.
"What have you done to me, Alison?" she whispered aloud. Then she asked, "More to the point, what have you done to Peter?" and she reached for the mouse and clicked on the file entitled "EDITED VERSION" which seemed to contain a video file.
She never got to open it, however, because the phone on Peter's desk suddenly rang and she was so startled she reached out to answer it without waiting for the butler to do so.
"Hello?" she asked, nervously, aware that her knickers were still around her knees, her fingers were still wet with her pussy juices and her nipples were still aching from all the unaccustomed attention she had just given them.
"Go and get Alison and bring her to the house. Wait for me in my office. I'm on my way."
Before she could say anything in reply Peter had slammed down the phone and she was left holding the receiver, wondering what she had done to be spoken to in that manner. Peter had always been brusque with the servants and with his staff but never with her, never before today, never before she had masturbated on his chair, never before she imagined that she was about to be replaced in his life by her oldest friend.
For that was what she believed was about to happen. Peter was forcing her to bring her replacement to their home and then he would throw her out. Why else would he have spoken to her so rudely? There was no way he could know what she had just done, was there?
But of course Peter knew. He had known for years that she had worked out his password. That was why he had installed cameras in his office when she was away on one of her trips. That was why he had insisted on being able to control them remotely. That was why he kept his laptop in his locked briefcase whenever he wasn't using it for any "private business". And that was why he had made it easy for his wife to find the "ALISON" file. He had wanted her to find it; it was all part of his plan but he could never have imagined how she would have reacted.
As he watched his wife of over thirty years on his laptop as she pulled down her knickers and plunged her fingers in and out of her cunt, he smiled to himself and shifted in his seat, adjusting his erect cock into a more comfortable position. Today was going to be even more enjoyable than last night with two sluts at his mercy now.
Wendy quickly pulled her knickers up and rearranged the rest of her clothing, trying hard not to think about the shameful thing she had just done. She would plead with Peter to forgive her for turning him away, for forcing him to use Alison as the source of his pleasure instead of being a good wife to him. She would place herself at his mercy and promise to do all the disgusting things that he had always wanted her to do, secretly hoping that, at their time of life, his appetites may have mellowed.
But first she had to go and get her rival. She hated Alison with a passion for making her act in this way but she did not want to let her husband down so she ran out to her small Mercedes sports car and sped down the driveway, forgoing the use of her own chauffeur. She was so angry with Alison but, before she would let the bitch steal her husband, she would make her pay.
Arriving quickly at Alison's front door, she banged on the door until it was opened by a startled butler. Wendy pushed past him and saw a shocked Alison coming down the stairs.
"Get in my car, you whore. Peter wants you."
"Just a minute, Wendy. You can't speak to me like that, especially not in my own home."
"If you're not sitting in my car in one minute flat I will show every one of our friends a copy of you sucking your chauffeur's cock. Let's see how high and mighty you are then."
With that she turned and walked back out the door, back down the steps and back to her cat. She left a shocked butler standing, not knowing what to say, and a thoroughly embarrassed Alison who ran after her friend, trying vainly to smile at her butler, explaining far too quickly that Wendy had been joking.
She had barely sat down on the soft leather seat when Wendy sped off down the impressive driveway.
"You really are a slut, aren't you? How could I have known you all these years and never realised that you were nothing but a cheap tart?"
"Wendy, please don't speak to me like that. What have I done to you to make you turn on me like this?"
"Well, I suppose trying to steal my husband would be the answer to that," replied the other woman sarcastically.
"What?! I'm not trying to steal Peter. I love John. If anyone has done anything wrong here it's your husband. He forced me to do all sorts of disgusting things last night. Wendy, he's blackmailing me."
Wendy did a quick re-evaluation and realised that she had got things very wrong. She knew that Peter was more than capable of a bit of blackmail if it got him what he wanted. Nevertheless, she liked the way Alison had responded when she had ordered her to get into the car and if Peter could blackmail her with the photos, why couldn't she?
"I suppose I could forgive you but you'll have to make it worth my while."
"Anything, Wendy; I'll do anything to be your friend again."
Alison thought she had found a new ally in the horrible situation she was in. She couldn't have been more wrong as Wendy smiled to herself cruelly and she told the other woman to open her blouse.
"I can't do that, Wendy. Anyone could see me, especially in this car."
"Either open your blouse right now or all our friends will see the photos of your chauffeur fucking you in your husband's car. I thought you liked taking your clothes off in cars so this shouldn't be so difficult for a slut like you."
Alison knew she was defeated again and that her predicament was now even worse than it had been last night. Now two people had seen the photos and she had to ensure that no-one else ever got that chance, especially not her high-society friends.
Hanging her head, her face blushing furiously, she slowly pulled her blouse out from the waistband of her tight skirt and began to open the buttons. One by one they revealed her small white, lacy bra until her breasts were in full view. Anyone driving in the opposite direction would know just how well endowed the respectable woman was in the breast area.
"Pull your bra down."
"Please, Wendy, don't do this. I'll give you anything you want and I'll never even talk to Peter again."
"Have it your way then. As soon as we get to my house I will start sending the emails."
Alison knew she had no choice and began to peel her lacy cups down over her large breasts. Her nipples were standing out like bullets and she was even more ashamed of this than she was of having to expose herself. She knew that it proved her body was responding to her new humiliation and she could only hope that Wendy hadn't noticed. It was a forlorn hope.
"Look at your nipples, you slut. You're enjoying this, aren't you? Well if you're enjoying it so much let me see you play with them."
Wendy didn't recognise herself now. She was thoroughly enjoying this feeling of power she had over her friend but she was also uncomfortably aware that she was becoming moist again between her legs. She shifted slightly in her seat and wondered if she was secretly as much of a slut as the woman sitting next to her.
Alison didn't know how her friend was feeling. She thought she was being cruel just because she could. She could no longer deny, however, exactly what she herself was feeling and she too could feel her pussy start to tingle as she became more and more aroused. The chance that anyone might see her as she was driven around topless seemed to heighten her sensitivity and when she raised her hands to her breasts she gasped out loud and how good it felt to touch herself.
Taking her nipples between her thumbs and fingers, she closed her eyes and leaned back, unable to prevent the soft moans of pleasure from escaping her lips. Neither did she notice, as Wendy had, that a large truck was approaching them on the other side of the road. Wendy slowed down and allowed the slow moving vehicle to drive towards them.
As the driver looked down in appreciation at the small sports car coming towards him he noticed the topless woman in the front seat playing with her nipples. He immediately blew his horn loudly and Alison's eyes sprang open just as the truck passed them.
"Oh, God, Wendy; who was that?"
"Just another man for you to expose yourself to, you slut. Now get dressed; we're almost there."
Alison shamefacedly pulled her bra back into place and refastened the buttons on her blouse, quickly tucking it into her skirt just as Wendy drew up at her front door. Not another word was passed between the women as they made their way to the back of the house. To Wendy's dismay they entered the office to find Peter already sitting at his desk and he didn't look happy.
"I warned you not to be late."
"I'm sorry, Peter, but your latest whore held me back," replied his wife, firmly laying the blame on Alison.
"Shut up, you whore. You have both disgraced yourselves in this office over the last twenty four hours. Sit down and pay attention to the screen."
The two nervous women sat down together on the large leather sofa and turned to the TV screen, not sure what they were about to see, although Alison had a very good idea.