You’d Better Sleep With Him Then

I knew from her body language that she was upset as soon as she stepped out of the car. Wiping her eyes, it was obvious that she'd been crying on her way home from work. My wife had come home crying several times since she started working for Ballentine Smythe, a successful but tiny firm, and each time the story was the same. Sure enough, she walked straight into my arms and started sobbing out the usual tale.

"I can't do anything right for him, he's so vile - I try so hard to do what's right but even with the slightest mistake he's so vicious and degrading. Do you know what he called me today? A stupid cow! All because I posted a letter that was in the out tray. Why did he put it there if he didn't mean for it to go? It's not my fault he'd mis-addressed it or that it cost us a deal..."

I held her in my arms, waiting for her tirade to give way to more tears as it always did. Sure enough, she burrowed her head into my chest, and I could feel my t-shirt getting wet as she sobbed.

Tina is petite, blonde and 28. I'm tall, aged 40, and a little out of shape. We've been married for five years but she still made my pants go tight when she snuggled up against me. A bit like she was now, but my groin wasn't that close enough for her to feel me becoming erect. I knew she'd be shocked that I was aroused when she was so miserable, when all she wanted right then was comfort and security, so I made sure I didn't push too close against her.

But honestly, I thought to myself. Apart from the arousal of holding a beautiful, sobbing and defenceless woman in my arms, I was getting a little tired of the regularity of this event. When she first told me how she was treated at work by her boss, I - like most husbands would - wanted to storm around there and punch his lights out. How dare he criticise my perfect jewel? But she begged me not to be silly and each time, I'd offered advice on what to do. But I don't think she really wanted my advice, just somebody to vent to, and I was beginning to suspect she never even listened to me when she was like this. Tina is stubborn, incredibly so - and she hates being beaten by something. She'll work and work at a problem until she beats it, like a dog gnawing at a bone, and I suspected some of her tears were from frustration that she hadn't been able to solve this problem yet.

I don't know why I said what I said next. As she stood weeping into my shirt, I lowered my head and whispered near her perfect ear, "Perhaps you should sleep with him?" Her breath caught momentarily, but otherwise she ignored what I said, and I half hoped she hadn't heard me.

I love my wife hugely, but I'd always had a secret desire to know she was wanted by another man. In a strange way, knowing that she was desired by someone else would confirm that I had done well by marrying her, that she was a hottie. I'm not sure how "desired by another" had jumped in my mind to "sleeping with another" in my mind, but a couple of years ago that became a theme to my private fantasies. I'd kept it to myself, scared of sharing it with Tiny in case she thought I was sick, scared of risking our marriage.

She sobbed for another few minutes then seemed to pull herself together and we went inside for a cup of tea. She asked about my day, gave me a quick hug to say thanks for listening to her, then went to get changed before cooking dinner. She seemed a little quieter than normal, as if she was thinking something over, but otherwise seemed fine.

I leave for work before Tina, so I kissed her sleeping form goodbye the next morning and let myself quietly out of the house. That evening, I heard her car approach as usual and, steeling myself for more sobbing, we out to the driveway to welcome her home. But there were no tears this time, she climbed from the car dressed, not in her usual heavy jumper and trousers, but in a very sexy black dress. I raised an eyebrow, and she did a pretty twirl as she walked towards me.

"I went shopping at lunch time to cheer myself up. You like?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at me.

I did like, and embraced her, my hands reaching low behind her, snaking up under the mid-thigh hem of this dress to tickle the tops of her legs. I felt lacy underwear under my fingers - another change, Tina normally wore cotton briefs all the time. She wriggled away from me, embarrassed of being felt up in the street and went inside. I followed her to our bedroom and watched, with a painful erection, as she removed the dress and folded it neatly away. After redressing in comfy wear, she went out to the car and fetched in some bags, emptying them into her underwear drawer. They contained three more figure-hugging dresses and some sexy underwear, including thongs. I softly wolf whistled as she tidied her new purchases away and asked her to model them for me. She tutted and smiled, obviously pleased they had invoked a reaction, but she declined to show off. Too soon, dinner was cooking, chores were being done and a sexy time with my wife seemed far away.

I soon became used to seeing my wife return from work in ever more revealing clothing, always showing a lot of leg up to mid-thigh, sometimes even higher - barely covering her cheeks and offering no modesty at all if she bent over. I knew her job involved filing and I hoped she was keeping decent when putting papers in the lower drawers, but this seemed a faint hope as she hardly ever wore a bra to work nowadays. Usually just a low-cut blouse which, again if she bent over, would give a rare view of her 36c breasts if you were in the right place. I enjoyed more than usual our routine of giving her a kiss and a hug as she left her car, and my hands would seek lower. She tolerated this for a while but wriggled free after a few seconds. This nearly always left me hard and frustrated, and she would also turn away if I tried to cuddle her in bed. My sexual jollies were restricted to watching her undress and masturbating when she wasn't around. I'm not proud to admit that I used her used, sexy lingerie from the laundry basket for this, and would inhale her womanly odours as I hung some skimpy piece of lace or cotton over my face, pumping away with my fist at the same time.

One afternoon, before she came home, I fished a pair of her used panties out and, without looking, lay down on the bed and draped them over my nose. Almost immediately I felt wetness drip from the gusset onto my lip. My tongue involuntarily licked it clean, and I tasted salt. Surprised, I sat up and looked at the underwear to see a big dollop of white goo. My mind raced. What else could it be but semen? Nothing. It could be nothing else. Somebody had wanked into my wife's knickers! It took only seconds for that silly thought to evaporate and the more obvious one; my wife had had sex with somebody else. But who?

Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? She had taken my suggestion of sleeping with her boss to heart and was doing just that. She had dramatically changed the way she dressed, was taking more care over her appearance and hadn't returned home in tears for weeks. It didn't take a rocket scientist to work out that she had found a way to solve her problem. It was obviously working, and she was enjoying her job more now that she had his interest.

I realised that I was still hard and in that red zone of arousal where nothing is too disgusting and quickly replaced the panties over my face and continued fist-pumping my cock. It didn't take long to finish what I'd started and even when the cold sperm from her lover slid into my mouth I just swallowed and continued until a shuddering climax left me gasping through the lace.

I heard her car pull up in the driveway, so hurriedly pulled my trousers up and threw her underwear back in the basket before walking casually out to meet her. If she noticed any sperm taste on my breath as she kissed me, she didn't comment on it. I followed her back into the house, admiring the stockings she wore - tops just visible below a tight stretchy dress. I could clearly see her panty line, but obviously no bra straps. I'd seen her breasts bouncing under the lycra as she got out from the car and it certainly grabbed my attention, as it would any heterosexual male.

As usual, I joined her in the bedroom and sat on the bed while she undressed. Grabbing the dress at the hem, she lifted up and over in one movement, freeing those beautiful breasts and exposing her silky underwear. Flinging the dress into the laundry basket, she slid the panties down and stepped out of them. In doing so, her vaginal lips were exposed to me and a few drips of milky liquid were clinging to her pubic hair.

"So you fucked him again today?" I said, deliberately keeping my tone light and conversational.

"Who?" she countered, hardly faltering. She selected a baggy two-piece tracksuit and stepped into it.

"Your boss," I said.

"Oh, Francis? Yes. When did you know?"

"Today for certain", I answered.

"And...?" she asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow, hand on hip at the end of the bed, clearly wondering how I was going to react. Truth be told, I didn't know that myself. I'd only figured it out ten minutes before. It had been a fantasy for a long time, but seeing the evidence was a different thing entirely.

"Sit down and tell me about it," I said. I wanted to know, perverse as it may seem, and it would buy me some time while I processed this news.

And sure enough, my wife, my Tina did tell me about it. She told me about how her new wardrobe got an immediate reaction and a much more tolerant response from her boss. All of a sudden, little mistakes didn't lead to her being shouted at. Instead, Francis took time to stand beside her, hand on her back, and show her what she'd done wrong and how to do it properly. This only lasted for a few days until the novelty wore off, however, and soon he was getting irritable again. That's when Tina's arms race escalated. Fairly early on she lost the bra - simply taking it off during a trip to the toilet and never putting it back on again. That bought several days of nice behaviour from Francis, and he was keen to help, standing behind her as she worked at her desk, no doubt enjoying the swell of her breasts.

When that was no longer enough, she upped her game by wearing shorter skirts, tighter dresses, a new hairstyle, a more revealing neckline. Each time she showed a little more of herself, she got noticed in a good way. Her desk had been moved into Francis' office and a promotion given, the extra money quickly spent in buying more clothes. He'd once given her a gold necklace, placing it around her neck and rubbing his fingers lightly along her skin as he did so.

I asked if showing a bit of skin was all she'd had to do - and she said no. Sometimes she'd need to flirt with him. Stand too close. Push her arms together to enhance her bosom as she talked to him and allow him to sneak peeks down her top as she worked. Bent forwards with her legs straight as she filed, taking a long time so he had ample time to see her knickers beneath her short skirt.

"And when did you first sleep with him?" I asked.

"Yesterday, during lunch break. And again today. Do you hate me?"

Strangely, I didn't. She noticed, perhaps even before I did, that I had an erection pushing against my jeans. Her hand went to it and squeezed me softly through the fabric.

"No..." she continued, "perhaps you don't hate me. Why does this turn you on?"

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. I just find you as sexy as hell, even when you've been with another man. Let me show you..." My hand reached for her breasts, cupping and gently squeezing throw the cotton of her tracksuit, rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger until it hardened and grew.

Tina's hand deftly unzipped my flies, releasing my hardness. Taking me into her mouth, she made eye contact as she worked her mouth up and down. It took only a few seconds before I erupted inside her mouth with such force she gagged, spitting my seed back into my crotch. She wiped her mouth and cuddled up to me. It was lovely, enjoying her warmth next to me.

"Do you still love your slutty wife?" she cooed as her fingers slid into my shirt.

"I do. But I want to hear more details, each night, of what you did that day," I answered, knowing that my fantasy had come true. Just one little suggestion was all it took. That little seed planted at a time of vulnerability germinated into a healthy vine of sexual manipulation from her as she seduced her boss. Turning her from being at risk of losing her job into Employee of the Month in a few weeks.

She did so like to solve problems.

THE END

A note from the author: This is one of three short stories that make up my published work, "Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady".