To Catch a Cheating WifebyRLM1©
Jeff and Wendy Lemann had been married for nine years. Both were 33 years old and both had worked for the same corporation, Hamilton Electronics, for the last eight years. Although employed by the same firm, their job responsibilities were very different, and consequently, they worked in different divisions of the firm. Jeff was the vice-president in the Advertising and Marketing Division while Wendy was a Group Leader in the Manufacturing Division. As a group leader, she was two levels below Jeff in pay grade and responsibility. Even so, she had a substantial amount of administrative and technical responsibility, and, therefore, commanded an excellent salary not much below that of her husband. Between the two of them, their yearly household income was slightly over $300,000. With no children as yet, and having made excellent investments, the Lemann's had no financial problems and were well on their way to becoming independently wealthy. Best of all, they both loved their job.
On a personal level, their mutual interests outside their job made them a near-perfect match for one another. Both were in excellent physical health and attractive. Jeff had told his wife many times that she was easily the most beautiful and sensuous looking woman he had ever dated. He often reminded Wendy that she was so sexy and beautiful that it had taken him a month to get up enough nerve to ask her out to dinner.
Jeff had long since become accustomed to men staring at his sexy wife whenever she entered a room. The more adventuresome and confident men frequently hit on her hoping to get lucky. Jeff often wondered if any of them ever had gotten lucky with his wife, but he knew better than to play the role of a jealous, insecure husband. Early on, he had realized that he had to trust his wife, and to the best of his knowledge, she had never betrayed his trust.
For her part, Wendy considered her husband to be an incredible catch. He was ambitious, smart, intelligent, confident, ruggedly handsome, virile and sexy, and had a great smile. Wendy knew that a lot of women envied her and some made their availability quite obvious to Jeff.
She knew that a woman's level of desire and lust exceeded that of a man, but it took longer and more stimulation to excite her. All a woman had to do to give a man a raging erection was just show him more of her breasts and thighs than he was supposed to see. That simple biological fact made her husband a lot more vulnerable to the advances of a woman than she was to those of a man.
At first, she had secretly kept a close watch on her husband's actions when they were at parties or gatherings where a lot of sexy women were openly flirting with Jeff. Without exception, he always declined their thinly-veiled, sexual invitations, but somehow, he always managed to do so without offending. Soon, word spread along the female grapevine that Jeff Lemann was deeply in love with his wife and that needed to be respected. When Wendy's best friend, Doris Andrews, told her about this, she beamed with pride and love for her faithful and devoted husband.
Of course, both Wendy and Jeff had some secret complaints about their spouse's performance in bed, but those complaints were rarely, if ever, voiced. Sex was frequently and passionate, but Wendy wished that occasionally Jeff would be less than the perfect gentleman and husband. Basically, she wished that he would sometimes fuck her like she was a hot whore instead of making love to her. Several times, Jeff had asked her if she would like to try some kinky things... like anal sex or sexy role-playing in public. She just couldn't bring herself to do those things. Without exception, she had always declined, but secretly, she wished that he wouldn't give her a choice... that he would exercise his masculine prerogatives and just do it to her.
For his part, Jeff wished that his wife would be more whorish on occasion. He kept making suggestions to that effect, but she kept rebuffing every suggestion. He knew he had a very passionate wife, more so than most men. She was always ready and eager for sex, day or night. The only times she ever refused was when she was sick or her period exceptionally heavy. In the latter case, she always provided oral sex. Nevertheless, Jeff thought it would be wonderful if instead of saying "I'm almost there, Darling. Do it to me harder, Honey." she would sometimes scream, "Oh god! I'm about to cum, Baby! Fuck my hot cunt harder, Stud! ... ram that big cock up my hot hole... Shoot in me!" or something along those lines. In nine years of marriage, he had never been inside Wendy's ass nor had she ever agreed to try anything that she considered "kinky and perverted".
All things considered, both Wendy and Jeff considered that they had a good life together. Neither had any intention of doing anything that would jeopardize their marriage. Or so they both thought.
A Lucrative but Dull Routine
The work had piled up on my desk during my site inspection visit the previous week. Although I had been working steadily since 7:45 AM, skipping lunch in the process, I wasn't halfway through the backlog of work and it was nearly 4 PM. The problem was that the Advertising and Marketing Division of the firm had an enormous amount of responsibility for the health and progress of the firm's business, and as the Vice-President of the Division, a great deal of that work and decision making fell on my shoulders. "It's like this every time I have to go on a site visit of some kind," I muttered to myself.
To make matters even worse, Wendy had to travel on the firm's business just as I did. Her position as a group leader in manufacturing didn't require as much travel as mine did, but, nevertheless, she was usually gone several days each month. Two or three times each year, she had to attend a major conference at the firm's central headquarters in Chicago. Those usually lasted a week. The next such conference for her was just three weeks away, and I was trying to schedule my travel to correspond with hers to reduce the total amount of time we were apart.
The bright spot in my dull, boring day was that I had a date with a gorgeous woman tonight, and I was certain that I was going to get lucky. Wendy and I had dinner reservations at Maurice's at 6:30 PM. At 8:00, I had tickets to what all my colleagues had said was a great stage play, and finally, at 10:30 I had reservations for a table at "The Hot Spot", which was rumored to be THE place to take a date if you wanted to get her ready for hot, wild sex afterwards. I was hard just thinking about the upcoming evening.
I left work early at 4:45 PM to allow plenty of time to drive home, shower, change, and enjoy watching Wendy getting dressed. Before I left for work that morning, I had arranged for a dozen American beauty roses to be delivered to her at her office. The card I sent read, "Twelve beauties for a real Beauty! This was followed by a brief agenda for our evening and finally with the comment, "I can't wait to take you out. Please wear something sexy. Love, Jeff, XXXOOO"
As soon as I entered our house, I raced upstairs intent on kissing and fondling my sexy wife and then watching her dress. Unfortunately, my plans were thwarted when I found our bedroom door locked. "Wendy. It's me, Jeff. Can I come in?"
"No. No way! I'll never get dressed in time to make our dinner reservations if I let a randy stud like you into my bedroom. Your clothes are laid out in the guest bedroom. I've given you two choices. Pick one. I'll meet you in the den a little before 6 PM."
Inside the guest bedroom, I saw that Wendy had laid out an expensive, tailor-made suit with matching silk tie. On the other side of the bed, she had placed a pair of slacks and an open collar, sports shirt. Obviously, the slacks and sports shirt would be more comfortable for me, and, left to my own devices, it was the selection I would have chosen for myself. However, it was equally obvious to me that Wendy would like for me to look really sharp tonight in a $1,500 suit. Since I was hoping that she would please me with her outfit, I put on a pair of tight briefs and then the suit after showering and shaving. Of course, I was waiting in the den for my wife for 15 minutes before she made her appearance.
When she entered the den, she looked drop-dead gorgeous, as I expected. Wendy could wear anything and look that way. She wore a pair of tight black slacks that molded her body perfectly. The matching top was equally tight revealing the contours of her large breasts that were just underneath. The 4-inch black heels were both fashionable and sexy. Her long, blonde hair was a perfect contrast to the black of her outfit. There was no doubt that she would be turning many male heads during the evening.
Nevertheless, I was somewhat disappointed. Wendy always wore attractive clothes that turned male heads. I was very accustomed to that. I had been hoping for something less gorgeous and sophisticated and more erotic. I would have enjoyed having the male strangers whose heads she turned to think that I was out with a high-class, expensive call girl. But there was no way I was going to throw cold water on our evening by complaining.
"Damn, Wendy! How did I ever get such a fantastically beautiful woman as you?"
My wife beamed at my comment, but at the same time, she was looking intently at my face. She could see right through me, as always. I had long ago realized that I could never have sex with another woman... not even once... without having Wendy know immediately. So, I never did. No man I know has that kind of sensory perception and the ability to pick up on subtle clues. Women are incomparably good in that arena.
"I'm sorry, Honey. I know you wanted me to wear something more erotic and sexy, and I did buy two outfits to wear, but when I put one of them on, I looked like whore. I just can't bring myself to wear something like that in public. Please don't be mad."
"I'm not mad. I could never be mad at you. I'm just a little disappointed. You said one of the outfit was too much. What about the other one?"
Wendy was obviously very pleased with my response to her refusal to wear something hot and sexy. "How about I model them both for you right now. I'll put on the slutty outfit when we get home and wear it to bed tonight. You can choose between this outfit and the other one for which one I wear tonight. The other one makes me uncomfortable, but I'll wear it if you want me to."
"Sounds like great deal to me. Hurry up or we'll be late for our dinner reservations."
A few minutes later, Wendy came in wearing something out of one of my wet dreams. The top was a skin-tight white blouse whose last button was below her big tits. Underneath, she wore a red bra that exposed at least half of her breasts. The black, pleated skirt was no more than two inches below the crease of her ass. She was bare-legged above the wicked, red fuck-me sandals whose heels had to be at least four inches. It was obvious why she wouldn't wear it.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I think you look like the most beautiful, desirable whore in the state. I love it... absolutely love it!"
"Of course you do. You're a man and you're not the one who has to display their body in public. Let me try on the other outfit so you can choose."
There was so little to what she had on, it only took a couple of minutes before Wendy was back in the den wearing the other ensemble. This one was a black sheathe with a "V" neckline. The skirt ended about halfway down her thighs. She was again bare-legged and again wore a pair of hot heels. "I choose that one, " I grinned.
"Surprise... surprise!" Wendy commented. "I hope I don't get arrested wearing this thing."
"Well, if you do, I'll be there to bail you out, Sweetheart."
Dinner at Maurice's was outstanding, as usual. Wendy was self conscious in her sexy dress even though several other women were wearing even more revealing outfits. The fact that I kept telling her great she looked combined with all the male attention she was attracting made her feel a lot better.
The stage play was erotic and well acted. We both enjoyed it, and I felt Wendy snuggling against me during some of the sexier parts. By the time we left the theater, she was more than ready for sex. When we reached the sidewalk outside the theater, I deliberately let my car keys fall to the pavement next to Wendy.
"Damn! I dropped the car keys. Did you see where they went, Honey?"
Since they were right at her feet, she saw them immediately, "Here they are. I've got them," she assured me as she bent over to retrieve the keys. When she raised up to hand them to me, I and three other men had big grins on our faces. Realizing what I had done, Wendy turned red and growled, "You did that on purpose!"
At that point, the wife of one of the men who had been treated to a great view of my wife's sexy ass in her nearly transparent bikini panties intervened, "Don't be too hard on him, Dear. I wish my husband thought enough of me to trick me into showing off my butt."
As the couple walked by, the husband turned and said, "Thank you. That was much better than the play." Wendy blushed five shades of red, but I could tell she loved it.
"The Hot Spot" lived up to its name. The place was dimly lit with red lights providing most of the illumination. The dance floor was even less well lighted, and it was packed with couples, some of whom were dancing while others were standing in one place grinding their bodies together in time to the music.
I ordered a bourbon and water on the rocks for myself and a screwdriver for Wendy, which was her favorite drink. As she made short work of her drink, she leaned over and whispered, "Why did you bring me here? It looks like a pick up spot for singles and a make-out spot for couples."
"It is. That's why we're here. I want you hot and ready when we get home."
"I'm already hot and ready, Honey. Let's go home and have sex."
"I want you even hotter and more ready, Wendy. So hot and so ready that you stop talking about 'having sex' and start saying that you can't wait any longer... that you need to be fucked!"
"Why do you always want me to talk dirty when we have sex? Isn't the sex enough?"
"Do you have to ask. We've been married for nine years, and I've never even considered hitting on another woman. Sex with you is more than enough, but that doesn't mean we can't improve on what's already great does it?"
"Mmmmm... I guess so," my wife cooed as she started on her second screwdriver.
I tried to get her out on the dance floor, but with some of the couples essentially dry fucking out there, I couldn't persuade Wendy to dance with me. Nevertheless, it was obvious that she was getting hotter just from watching the other couples doing it. She was now on her fourth screwdriver and already half drunk. "Maybe one more, and she'll let her inhibitions drop enough to dance dirty with me," I thought.
She had just finished her drink when a handsome man in his mid-thirties came over to our table. His thin, dark moustache and van dyke gave him a sexy, devilish appearance. All that added to his confident, sexy smile got my wife's attention. "Hi. Please excuse my intrusion," he said to me. "I could not help but notice that your lovely wife hasn't been on the dance floor yet tonight. For someone so lovely, that's a shame. My I have you permission to ask her for a dance? I'm Ramon, Ramon Mendosa. May I know your names?"
"I'm Jeff, Ramon. And this lovely lady is my wife, Wendy. And I've been trying to get her to dance all evening without success. If you can persuade her, I would be very pleased."
Ramon didn't ask my wife. He simply smiled, put his hand under her arm, and firmly pulled my wife to her feet. "It is so very rare that I have the pleasure of dancing with such an exquisitely beautiful woman. Thank you, Jeff. You are very generous. Come, Wendy. I cannot wait to dance with you."
With four screwdrivers, Wendy was somewhat unsteady on her feet, but with Ramon's arm around her waist she had no further trouble. She put up one feeble protest: "I don't think I should be dancing with you when I've already turned my husband down several times."
"SSsshhh... that is of no consequence. You can dance with your husband any time. This may be our one and only opportunity. Come, Now! I cannot wait to hold you in my arms. To feel you moving against me."
"I don't think that..."
"Be quite. No more feminine protests. We will dance together."
At this point, Ramon moved my wife onto the dance floor out of earshot, and I couldn't hear what else he was saying to her. At first, she kept his body several inches from her own. Even so, the tips of her big breasts occasionally brushed against Ramon's chest. The more often that happened, the less the distance between them became. Finally, I saw Wendy move closer still and Ramon's arms immediately circled my wife's body and pulled her tightly against his own.
For the next three songs, Ramon would not allow my wife off the dance floor. Finally, she gave up trying to escape and let her head rest on his shoulder as he moved them around the crowded dance floor. By third song, he had Wendy's mound pressed firmly against what I assumed was now a very hard erection. I could also see that very gradually he had pulled her bodice open even wider so that her nipples were close to being exposed. Occasionally, I saw him whispering in her ear. Sometimes she would just laugh... other times she would shake her head and try to pull away, but his arms held her body firmly in place and her struggles seemed to me to be more for show than for effect.
When the fourth song began, I lost sight of them. The dance floor was so crowded and the lighting so dim, I had been lucky to keep them in sight for as long as I had. I spent a few minutes scanning the dance floor until it became obvious that Ramon and my wife were no longer dancing.
I was wandering around the club looking for them when our waitress came over to me. "Looking for your wife?" she asked.
"Yeah. How did you know?"
"Two ways. First, the way you're wandering around the place looking here and there, makes it pretty obvious. And second, she's with Ramon. Guys usually end up looking for their dates or wives when they're with Ramon."
"Do you know where they are?"
"Parking lot. There are benches by the pond. If I were you, I wouldn't waste time. Ramon is a very, very fast worker, if you catch my meaning."
She didn't have to draw pictures for me, but frankly, I couldn't believe that Ramon had the slightest chance with Wendy even when she was half drunk. Nevertheless, I hurried toward the door intent on making my way to the pond. The waitress stopped me at the door and pushed a small wooden bat into my hands. "He's bigger than you are. You may need this."
Just as the waitress had predicted, Ramon had Wendy on one of the benches beside the pond. There was very little light but there was enough to see what was happening. When I approached, I saw Ramon kissing my wife as she struggled to push him away. I thought about rushing to her assistance, but I wasn't sure if her resistance was real or for show as it had been on the dance floor. I decided to wait a little longer to see what she would do.
Finally, Ramon broke the kiss and moved back as Wendy tried to hold him back. His gaze fell on her big tits, almost completely exposed from his work while they were on the dance floor. My wife tried to keep him back, but he was just too powerful and too aggressive. I heard my wife gasp when his head moved into her cleavage and over her nipples.
Wendy was now yelling for him to stop. Just as I started toward them, Ramon moved back and pulled my wife's dress wide open releasing both of her big tits. Even in the dim light, I could see how swollen and erect her nipples had become. Immediately, he sucked one pulsing nipple into his lips. Simultaneously, my wife howled and groaned. Then, she thrust him away with all her strength. Surprised, Ramon's body tumbled off the bench to the ground. Wendy was on her feet immediately. I had reached the bench at this point and folded her in my arms.