Perfect Cheat


The ice cubes played a quiet melody as they bumped against the Waterford crystal glass when I handed her the Jack Daniels. I sat down on the opposite couch and took a sip of my own drink.

We were supposed to go to the country club in a few minutes to have dinner with Bob and JoAnn Bailey. I looked at my wife Annie and thought, "She is absolutely stunning when she dresses like this."

The royal-blue satin dress that was tight across her five-foot eight-inch body fully accentuated her slim hips, flat stomach, and full breasts. The material stopped just above her breasts; her complexion was perfect—there was not even a miniscule freckle to mar her naked chest, shoulders and face. She had blond coiffured hair, a pixie nose and startling blue eyes. She had used a minimum of makeup creating the sexy illusion of high cheekbones. The light accent lipstick finished the picture of a beautiful woman. I knew if I came close to her I would smell a slight, but very feminine scent that would drive one crazy with lust and love.

She took a sip and turned to the side to put her glass down on the cocktail table. The slit of her dress opened and I had a peek at her slender calf and just the beginning of a well-formed lower thigh that I knew extended to a carefully trimmed pussy necessary for when she wore a bikini, and a tight, extremely sexy ass.

No body is perfect, but in the eight months we had been married, I had yet to discover a physical defect. When we walked into a dance or a party, ninety-nine percent of the lusting males could not find a defect either.

The silence that at first was comfortable lasted too long. Annie looked at me and tilted her head in that cute way that many others and I thought was a sincere look of concern. Usually the look would generate an immediate verbal response to her unspoken question—she looks and you talk.

I ignored the look and took another sip of liquor. It tasted good.

Annie lost the short-timed conflict and asked, "What?"

It was time for another sip.

Annie was now uncomfortable. She knew something was not quite right.

With a hint of whiney irritation in her voice she asked, "Jim, is something wrong?"

I placed my glass carefully on the table, looked into those blue eyes and quietly said, "You cheated on me."

The jolt of that accusation struck her like a physical slap. Her face blushed and one hand nervously touched her lips. It was several seconds as she framed her reply.

"Jim, that's ridiculous. Why would you say such a thing?"

It started a week ago at the country club. I sat in the bathroom stall not so much that I needed to use it, but more to escape the booze and the noise of the party for a few brief moments before emerging for round two. Annie liked parties and so I was there with Annie at the club party.

I heard the door open and two men entered the bathroom talking loudly. They were mildly drunk and I ignored them as they pissed into the urinal until one slurred, "Well Bill finally fucked Annie. I thought it would take a lot longer, but that son-of-a-bitch is really smooth."


They continued their drunken, bathroom conversation of the event. As they talked it became crystal clear; it was my Annie!

I was stunned and then like an incoming meteor, my anger became a red-hot streak of hate. I silently screamed, "How could she?"

I sat thinking. I knew she wouldn't miss me; no, Annie would be working the room, kissing her friends and getting some cocks hard as she, apparently not on purpose, would show some leg or breast that her clothes had not intended. I had seen the tease before; she was very good at it.

As I already mentioned, we married eight months ago. The flippant phrase is that "It's just as easy to marry a rich woman as a poor one"; and if the rich woman is stunningly beautiful, so much the better.

There is another saying, "Be careful what you wish for, you might get it."

I reflected. The pros were obvious. She was physically beautiful. She was rich; I was a manager in her father's company and the country club was a company membership. Every place we went beautiful and powerful people surrounded us. What more could one ask for?

For eight months I had successfully ignored the cons. Our sex life was a disappointment. The few times we had fucked prior to the wedding there was something missing; it was the missionary position, some hard breathing, and a gasp that she was coming with the traditional physical moves. At the time I thought, "Is that all there is?"

My sex life prior to meeting Annie was highly active; I've tried most things and enjoyed all of them. With misplaced confidence I knew I could really help Annie enjoy sex after we were married. A long story; I was wrong. She was comfortable with being on a pedestal before we met. I made that pedestal higher as I pursued her. So she became the boss--it was to be sex her way and only when she wanted it.

When Annie's father offered me a bigger position to join his company, I knew it was a short cut to pursue my career. However, as good as I was and as hard as I worked, the joke was always that the employees had to treat me like any other person who had married the owner's only daughter.

Finally, the social life that Annie craved—the parties, the power people—was foreign to me. I was Annie's husband, not Jim who married Annie. They were always nice to me; usually it was a friendly hello and then a quick turn to welcome Annie to exchange the latest rumors and gossip. I remember once she was six feet away from me in a circle of friends and I heard a finger click. It was Annie; she needed another drink.

I sat in the stall for twenty more minutes thinking about the world that I had created for myself. My wish had come true and it was a disaster. But there was also anger—intense at first and then the flame went lower. I realized that to be done correctly, my revenge would take careful preparation.

And now it was one week later. Beautiful, "perfect" Annie sat there hoping for some hint that she could escape this embarrassing confrontation.

I picked up my drink for another sip. After swallowing I asked Annie, "Was Bill good?"

Annie ignored my question and said, "We can talk about this silly thing later; we are late for our dinner with Bob and JoAnn."

"Fuck Bob and JoAnn."

In fact, I had called Bob an hour earlier and canceled the dinner. I told him that it felt like the beginning of the flu; I didn't want to spread it around and already felt lousy. We decided to reset the dinner date when I felt better.

Feigning curiosity I asked, "Bill is very good looking. Does he fuck as good as he looks?"

Annie searched for an answer, looking for some story to escape her predicament. My hostility had caught her by surprise. Before meeting her, "fuck" was probably every fourth word I said—the poor have a limited vocabulary. Since meeting Annie, I had never said the word within her hearing.

She stuttered, "You…you don't understand. You were on your business trip and I went to the club party. I drank too much and Bill offered to drive me home. It was innocent until I woke up at his house, on his couch. He raped me; I had no choice."

"Raped you?" I replied, "What a horrible experience. Was it better or worse than when we fuck?"

She remained silent; her eyes avoided looking at me.

"Was this just a conquest for you, or did you really think you might love that asshole? Or maybe," I continued sarcastically, "you were seeking a meaningful overnight relationship."

Her face blushed with embarrassment and then white with the extreme stress of the situation. She was caught; there was no room for evasion, no place to hide.

I took another sip of my drink and said, "No problem Annie. I'm going to make it very easy for you. On Monday my lawyer will call and give you his name and phone number. When you have hired your lawyer, give him mine and let them work it out. We have no kids. The house will sell at about what we paid for it. Your dad will get you an apartment. And my resignation will be on his desk.

"So there is no problem. Your life will go on, but not with me."

Annie wasn't dumb but I had caused an overload in her emotional control. She stammered, "But what will people think if we get divorced?"

Why did that upset me? Yet it did. I spit out, "I'm telling you we are getting a divorce and that our marriage is a farce and you worry about what people will think? Fuck them! Fuck you! When we are through talking, I'll be gone. The car is packed; my plans are made."

For Annie, everything snapped. Her life, or what she thought of her life, was going to be ruined. Her reputation and her marriage were going to be destroyed. She was going to be the country club joke of the week. The tears started. She looked at me and asked, "Forgive me?"


"I will do anything to make you forgive me."

In the week leading up to this confrontation I had considered what Annie might say. I thought there was a good chance she would say, "Just go." I also thought there was a possibility she might beg to make things right…revenge can be sweet.

I asked, "Do you really mean that Annie?"

"Yes," she replied.

I said, "If you mean it, here are my terms. I want you to go to our bedroom and wait for me. You will do what I say. If you don't I will leave. If you want me to stop what I'm doing, all you have to say is "leave" and I will go.

"Annie, I really don't give a shit if you agree or not…and I don't care if you say, 'leave' or not. What happens now is up to you."

Without another word Annie stood and walked up the stairs leading to our bedroom.

I sat in the living room for another five minutes finishing my drink. I made another drink. Finally I followed Annie. When I entered the bedroom, Annie was standing at the foot of the bed; she warily watched me.

I sat in the corner chair and stared at her. Finally, "Take off your clothes Annie."

She had expected it might be something like that and asked, "Do you want to have intercourse…"

I interrupted, "Take off your fucking clothes, or tell me to leave. I don't care which it is."

Her tongue wet her lips in a nervous gesture. She briefly considered her options and then asked, "Can I at least turn the lights down?"

"No. I want to see you; after all I'm still your husband. What loving wife would not be proud to do anything for their husband? I'm giving you your last chance."

A tear ran down each cheek—an act or for real? With Annie, one couldn't tell. She reached behind and undid the clasp of the dress and pulled the zipper down. She leaned forward and stepped out of her dress and placed it on the other chair. Each article of clothing reluctantly followed. When her breasts were freed from the confines of her bra they jutted out without a trace of sag; I noted her light-colored areolas encircling her nipples that remained soft. She stopped when she was down to her hip hugging, light-blue panty thong and looked at me pleading to give her some small concession. I shook my head, "No."

Her fingers went under the elastic of the thong and pulled down. When the panty was at her ankles she stepped out of it and stood before me naked. Her one hand was casually placed in front of her pussy. I ordered, "Put your hands at your side Annie. You know you are a beautiful bitch; you should be happy to show your pussy to me."

Her hands went to her side. Her head was down refusing to look at me. The irony was that she really was beautiful. She was an oddity of nature since she never exercised; yet her slim legs were long which accentuated her hips and flat stomach. Her pubic hairs were neatly trimmed leaving only a narrow strip bordering her slit and a small tuft above her vagina. Her breasts, although not huge, were full and the perfect size for her body. In any other situation I knew this naked woman would have any man's cock coming to immediate attention, but mine had not.

I said, "Get your ass on the bed Annie."

She glanced at me searching for any sign of mercy—to ease her humiliation. Apparently, what she saw gave her the answer. She walked to the bed and lay on her back in the center of it. She lifted her head slightly to see what I was going to do.

I said, "Remember Annie, just say "leave" and I will be gone. Do you understand me?"

She nodded her head.

I walked to the bed and looked down at her. I said, "Originally, my idea was to tie you so that you couldn't move your arms or legs. But that would be too easy; you would be helpless and I could do what I wanted. I don't want you helpless. I want you free to resist or to say, "leave."

"Put your arms over your head as if you were tied. If you move them, I'm gone."

Annie stretched each arm over her head causing her breasts to lift up.

"Now spread your legs Annie."

She hesitated a second and then her legs opened.

"You can open them wider than that Annie; I want to be able to see all of you."

She opened her legs even wider.

I took a large hard pillow and told her to lift her hips so I could put it underneath her. She lay there looking frightened and vulnerable. Her pelvis, supported by the pillow angled into the air, exposed her completely and allowed easy access to her vagina. She saw me looking at her pussy and blushed in embarrassment.

She pleaded, "Please don't do this to me."

Anger crept into my voice. I said, "For eight months you have told me which party we had to attend, what house we had to buy, or even when we could fuck. I'm tired of your voice; I'm tired of you. From this point on, I don't want to hear your voice--not one word. If you say anything, it is the same as saying 'leave.' "

Finally, I took a soft cloth out of my pocket, which would be her blindfold. I tied it carefully around her head so that it was impossible for her to see anything; she was in absolute darkness. I left the room.

Five minutes later I returned. I had taken off my clothes. She lay there helpless, turning her head back and forth as if trying to hear what was coming next. I quietly approached the bed and touched her breasts; her body jerked in surprise at the sudden contact. I leaned over her and licked each areola several times and then gently bit her nipples. The wet nipples began to harden, but otherwise her body did not react to my teasing.

I felt her presence in the room. I looked at the bedroom door and saw Megan standing there quietly; she was naked. Megan was a skinny, not beautiful but a pretty five-foot six-inch woman with small breasts, brown eyes, and a short haircut. Megan and I had been much more than old friends back then, but we both knew that being married to each other wasn't in the cards. We joked, "Why fuck up a perfect friendship by getting married?"

Before I started dating Annie, Megan and I were what one could crudely describe as best friends and fuck buddies. I would come home and find a message on the telephone, "This is Megan. I broke up with Ralph and really need a friend. Come over and fuck me and hold me."

Sometimes she left that type of message. Other times I did. We were close then. Swinging bars, wild parties with sex games were part of our life. Do anything, but don't hurt was our unspoken rule. Megan told me once that, "I like guys more than girls, but I've never found the right guy, so I take what I can get."

Megan finally got married; it was a disaster that lasted a year. Towards the end we talked by telephone—we never saw each other once she got married—and in my own way I tried to advise her on what I thought she should do. Sometimes, it was just to cheer her up in an unhappy marriage.

So she got divorced. She was lucky—no kids and no big debts.

I had talked to her briefly once or twice after her divorce, but gave no hint on the status of my "perfect" marriage with Annie. The day after I found out Annie had cheated, I called my best friend and told her everything. We talked for several hours. I was desperate for a real friend, and Megan was it.

Finally at the end of my call she said, "I will do anything you want; that bitch of yours doesn't know what she has."

I told Megan, "I'm going to ask Annie for a divorce on Friday. She'll probably agree. If she pleads with me not to divorce her, I am going to humiliate her until she agrees. I don't need her permission for a divorce, but I want revenge. She thinks a woman who has sex with another woman is terrible, something she would never consider doing in her life. That's where you can help me.

"But what I really need from you is when the Friday night confrontation is over, that you and I go up to Lodge, rent a cabin, and fuck until I forget I ever met Annie."

And so Megan stood naked in the doorway. I had explained what I wanted her to do. I thought, "It's funny. Beautiful Annie is stretched out naked on the bed waiting for me to fuck her, and my cock is soft. I look at Megan for a second, and I am hard."

I nodded to Megan and went to the foot of the bed. My fingers swept through Annie's pussy hair and then I penetrated her with one finger. Her hips jerked—not from a sexual arousal, but because of the surprise of the touch. Her legs started to close, but I said, "No Annie, don't hide your pussy. Keep yourself open to me."

Her legs opened again.

I had used my fingers on Annie in the past, but she clearly didn't enjoy it. Of course, she had adamantly refused to let me eat her; it was "too gross."

For several minutes my finger explored her. Then I used two fingers. Her labia lips were beginning to open under my assault, but I had avoided touching her clit except for an occasional light caress. Finally she was becoming wet. I withdrew my fingers from her. Megan, immediately knelt down between her legs, spread Annie's labia lips wider and licked the entire length of her slit. Annie gasped and her hips jerked up with surprise. She opened her mouth to protest, but remembering my rule, remained silent.

Megan is quite good with a woman. She took her time and started licking Annie's inner thighs; up and down each thigh until they glistened with moisture. Then I watched her kiss and lick Annie's vagina; sometimes it was a gentle lick, other times her fingers and tongue aggressively penetrated deep into her most sensitive areas. It was erotic to see Megan arouse Annie—and Annie was still not aware that it wasn't me.

I was watching both of them. Eventually, small beads of sweat appeared on Annie's forehead and then a sigh escaped from her lips. I saw Annie's hips thrust up as Megan finally started to lightly tease Annie's clit. Annie whimpered and swung her head back and forth as she became more and more aroused. Megan increased the pressure on Annie's clit. Annie's body started to tremble and then she cried out and violently arched her back as her orgasm began. Annie's body continued to violently spasm far longer than any time that I could remember when we fucked. Finally, her body quit moving. Megan quietly stood up and moved away.

Annie lay quiet as her body tried to recover from the sexual assault. Some moments later I straddled Annie's chest my knee under each of her arms: if I leaned forward, my cock would reach her mouth. I whispered, "Annie, you never want to touch my cock—even with your hands. So now I am going to give you the chance to touch it with your tongue and mouth."

She moaned and shook her head back and forth saying no.

I leaned forward and supported myself with my hands on the bed. Lowering my cock to her lips, I whispered, "Lick."

My cock touched her lips and her tongue came out tentatively and touched me. "Harder," I ordered. Her tongue began to explore the length of me as I continued to position myself so that she had access to me. A few minutes later I said, "Open your mouth and take me."

Annie's mouth opened and I slowly slid into her trying to be careful not to go so far that she would gag. After some moments she became accustomed to the motion and I pushed in and out of her deeper. She started to anticipate as her head moved up to take each of my downward thrusts. For five minutes she pleasured me and it was becoming harder not to come. I pulled out for the last time; drips of pre-cum stuck on her cheeks. Annie sighed, but I didn't know whether it was in relief or disappointment.

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