The Jealous Wife

4 min read

photo: MetArt

I am not a jealous person. My husband knows he has it good, but his younger co-worker flirting with him at the office party had my skin crawling, a flush of green on my cheeks.

On the drive home, I could not stop my snide remarks; blame the wine. “So… Vicky is beautiful.” My lips dripped with sarcasm.

The car slowed to a stop at a red light. Most men would assuage their wives with a disparaging remark or reassurance. In the dim light of the street lamp he looked me over. “Is that your tone?”

For some reason, I dug into my position, deeper into contrition. “I was standing beside you while she shoved her tits in your face.”

The light changed and he pushed on the gas pedal. “You have to admit they are great tits.”

I crossed my arms, and slumped in my seat, my lower lip sticking out. “Yeah.”

“Oh no, little miss, you don’t get to pout about something you started. I can turn around and ask if she wants to come with us. I’d let you watch of course.” He grabbed my hair and pulled.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“What’s that?” He tugged harder and I wanted him to get home, punish me, then fuck me hard.

“I’m sorry,” I said louder.

His look told me I’d be sorrier. “I’d let you drive us home. We’d be in the back, and I’d pull down her top, and play with those luscious tits, my mouth suckling her stiff nipples.” As if to highlight, he squeezed my breast roughly. “You’ve a lovely rack yourself.”

He parked the car in the drive and looked at our house, as his hand caressed my neck, then closed around my throat lightly. “Go upstairs, strip to your underwear, put the cane and paddle on the bed for me. You’ll wait for me in spanking position on the bench.”

Cane and paddle? I swallowed, my hands fluttering at my sides. I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open, hands shaking as I walked to the house. Through the house, flipping light switches as I headed to the bedroom. My attention focused on my breathing, instead of wondering, worrying about his plans.

The cane and paddle gave me pause, my mouth sucked dry. I stripped quickly, knowing he’d join me soon and punishment would be worse if I wasn’t ready. I lowered to my knees, upper body on the red leather covering the bench. The air in the house cool enough to raise the hairs on my arms. I slipped my panties down around my thighs, leaving me in my bra, waiting for my punishment.

Sir came into the room. “Always a lovely sight to see.” His hands stroked my back and I sighed happily.

“Thank you, Sir.” Over my shoulder, I saw him sink to his knees, utterly confusing me. No paddling or caning?

“Spread your thighs, the story is not done yet. We are home and I bring you and Vicky to this room. I sit you on the bench and cuff your hands and feet, then strip her bare and lay her on the bed.”

He pushed his hand between my thighs, two fingers pushing into my cunt, curling inside me. A whimper escaped me as I pressed into the leather, no longer cool against my skin.

“What do you think, love? Does the luscious Vicky shave her cunt bare like you, trim, or run free?”

“Trim,” I decided, not wanting to think about her pussy. At the same time, Sir whispering the fantasy in my ear, telling me he’d force me to watch him and another, was arousing, especially while he fingered me. But it was all teasing, he would deny me an orgasm.

“Me too, though I never considered before. You would watch me finger her like I am touching you. Then lick her until she begged me to fuck her.”

I tried not to moan or beg or fuck his fingers, but he knew how desperate I was. “You like me to beg,” I said between gulps of air.

“I do, you know me well,” he said.

“After all these years, I hope so. Please baby make me come.”

“Not until after your punishment, but you already know that. Would you watch me fuck her? Tits bouncing, moaning my name, humping my cock.”

“If you wanted me to.” The moan escaped me, and he slowed his fingers.

“Good girl. I’ll only use the cane for five strokes.”

“Thank you.” My body tensed thinking about the pain to come.

“Would you like my hand first?”

“I would.”

His hand cracked down on my ass, the pain spreading through my lower body. As I soaked it in, enjoying it, he slapped me again. Then again and again until I was a quivering lump of arousal and pain.

“I love this shade of red on you.”

“But you like it even more when I’m striped,” I finished for him.

The edge of the cane scraped down my back. “Here we go.”

I bit my bottom lip, determined not to cry out, my arms gripping the bench. The first blow always stings the worst, and this time was no different, but I counted in a shaky voice, “One.”

The second and third I managed without more than a grunt. But the fourth made me shout and number five had tears on my face.

“Beautiful.” His voice was close, almost comforting until his hand touched my tender skin and I hissed. “I want your pussy and only yours. No other woman or man interests me, so no need for jealousy.”

I sighed, feeling let down. “I understand, baby, sometimes it just happens.”

“Get on the bed so I can fuck my pussy.”

A laugh choked me, and I tried to push up. “I need help. I’ve been on my knees too long and you spanked the bones from me.”

Sir’s hands were gentle as he helped me to my feet. He undressed while I was still a puddle; damn he’s sexy. Once I was on the bed, he rubbed my feet and legs, until he reached my inner thighs, then he was rough again, digging into the muscle. It felt so good, the pain sliding through my body into my pussy, heating me again.

“I love your smile when I hurt you,” he said, hovering over me.

“You know exactly how to arouse me. Are you waiting for me to beg? Please kiss me then fuck me so I feel you tomorrow.”

He bit my bottom lip as his cock entered my body, pushing until we were one. I matched his movements as his tongue thrust against mine to the rhythm of our synchronized heartbeat. We were one, one being, one perfect love.

As the friction heated us, his fingers came between us, rubbing my clit. “Yes baby, fuck me until we both come. I love your cock.”

“I love your filthy mouth.” He kissed me again, harder to match the way he took my body.

His teasing fingers on my clit, pinched the nub, like the detonator on a bomb inside me; I went off, pleasure exploding. And my husband, the angel he is, my satisfaction became his, the familiar thrusts quickening and bringing grunts from his chest. He gripped my ass making me squeal, increasing his enjoyment.

Then he collapsed on me. “You don’t need to be jealous,” he said. “But if you fuck me like that, maybe you should.”

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