My Wife, the Seductress Read online

  And that was all I wanted him to do, wasn’t it? Sure, it would be great to get a habitable basement, but really I just wanted Robert to get Tessa in the mood a little more often, get her enjoying the carnal desire and its impacts in her body once again.

  With baby in bed at last, I came down to find her hovering at the island that separated the kitchen from the living area. She was sipping a glass of dry white wine, something she didn’t normally do.

  "How did today go?" I asked, taking a seat on our couch.

  She shrugged. "Same as usual — I guess Robert came over."

  "And? He agreed to the job?"

  "He did."

  "Great."

  She looked at me, those pretty green eyes so piercing.

  "You are going to have to fire him."

  "What? Fire him?"

  "You are not going to be able to handle that guy hanging around our house while you’re at work all afternoon," she said.

  I laughed. "I’m not going to be able to handle it? I’m not the one with the schoolgirl crush on him. You just want me to fire him because you can’t deal with that."

  Call it wishful thinking, but I swear her eyes flamed with repressed desire and danger. "You’ll be sitting at work, and you’ll start feeling threatened."

  "Threatened? That you’ll be tempted by him while I’m gone? That you’ll lose control?" I chuckled. "You know how hot you look when you lose control?"

  She laughed off my suggestion, but after slipping the straps of her summer dress off her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the ground, she revealed her faded blue bra and panties. As she stepped toward me, I could see how wet she was between her thighs. Jesus, this from just a short visit?

  Then her underwear was gone, and she was calmly straddling me, fishing out my hard cock from my pants. I was already so hard from the thought of her being aroused all day waiting for me to get home from work — and too, yes, from the thought that another man desired her, and would be here tomorrow driving her wild with his mere presence. The sight of that little damp patch in the front of her panties just turned my manhood into a granite pillar.

  She sighed as she sank down slowly onto me, her mouth, her eyes widening with some astonishment at my hardness and how it felt considering her own advanced arousal.

  "You better hope I don’t lose control," she purred as she began rising and falling on me.

  "Lose control?"

  "A hot young man running around the house all summer, flirting with your horny wife."

  I smiled, flicking open the catch of her bra, freeing up her small but perky breasts, those nipples of hers so prominent, begging to be touched.

  I growled, "If my wife is horny like this more often when I come home, I don’t think I’ll mind if she loses control."

  And that made her shiver all over, her body writhing in my lap as she came in record time — making me realize that for her, the foreplay had started long before I’d come home that evening.

  Chapter Five

  I couldn’t stop thinking about her the next day, not for five minutes. I spoiled entire meetings with thoughts of Tessa standing before me, her cheeks faintly flushed, her long cocoa hair loose and unkempt, her eyes wild with lust, her slender but curvaceous body covered by nothing other than a little pair of panties that were damp from her desire.

  Jesus, I felt like a hormone-fueled teenager again.

  But one thing I realized as I spent the day trying to look busy, look productive, look like a valuable member of the team without in any way being one, was that my newfound obsession with my wife wasn’t merely from the fact that she had suddenly started wanting sex a whole lot more — or that I had somehow suddenly started noticing her beauty again.

  There was something in the fact that she had revealed an attraction for another man that was driving me beyond wild.

  I thought about how she'd teased me by calling out Robert’s name during our lovemaking. The turn-on was from seeing her imagining I was him, and seeing her responding to that imagination. The idea that I wasn’t really there, I was a third party merely watching my wife having explosive sex with someone else. It was something I’d never seen — never wanted to — but now I did want to see it.

  The dark part inside me now wanted to see this taken further, beyond flirting, to watch another man turn Tessa into a bubbling cauldron of uncontrolled desire.

  That shocked me a little. Did I really want her to embark on a full-on affair?

  That day, I tried to think how Tessa would be feeling having this crush on the guy now working at our house renovating the basement. How she would enjoy little brief flirtations, asking him if he wanted coffee, if he needed water, if he would be okay alone while she took Marcus to his afternoon swim class. How hot she’d feel to see his every glance her way trying to undress her. How she’d melt a little inside at the thought of letting him take her.

  That flicker of irrepressible desire within Tessa was something I hadn’t seen much of since we were in the early days of dating. And back then, I had been so wrapped up in the maelstrom of emotions from my own exploration of this beautiful new girl that I probably hadn’t appreciated it fully. To me, she’d just been a drop-dead gorgeous and available female, who seemed to confirm at every turn how perfect she was as my companion and best friend. I was so absorbed by my own developing perceptions of her that I had overlooked some of the subtleties of her own response to raw sexual attraction.

  At least, that’s what I told myself. Maybe we just had a different relationship back then — she’d been turned on, she’d been attracted to me, but the physical attraction had been balanced by her platonic love, her recognition of me as an equal and potential lifelong soulmate. What she had now, with Robert Donovan, was something else entirely. It was purely sexual, it was sudden, intense, feverish, and perhaps most importantly of all in such an illicit attraction, it was forbidden, it was wrong, it might even have been seen as taboo in some quarters.

  And now, as I drove home in the frustratingly slow traffic of a highway especially choked by an accident on the I-695, I felt that my sudden renewed desire for Tessa was similar to that of hers for Robert: sudden, intense, feverish and most certainly slightly taboo, since my attraction appeared directly connected to her attraction for another.

  It felt slightly strange to be sitting there realizing that I was probably shaping up to be what society might term a deviant. God, and it was so sudden. I’d just been a husband the other day. Now I was a husband who had procured a young stud for his wife to flirt with.

  But I couldn’t deny that the thought of her getting all steamed up over him made me rock hard while I was sitting in traffic.

  And where was my jealousy in all of this? Sitting at the back of my thoughts, snickering. Encouraging me to pursue these filthy thoughts of mine, perhaps playing the long game with the hope that if it could not hurt me just now, one day when I lost Tessa for good in the arms of another man, I’d be completely shattered beyond repair.

  I texted her to apologize profusely for the hold-up, even sending her photos from my smartphone to demonstrate the bumper-to-bumper action that was keeping me from bathing Marcus just then.

  By the time I’d gotten home, I’d had texts back from Tessa telling me not to worry, that I couldn’t do anything about the traffic, that she had bathed Marcus and put him to bed.

  I pulled into our driveway and then into the garage, feeling faintly nervous that this massive new fantasy of mine would be quashed by the simple mundanity of life. Tessa would bring me back down to reality, that this silly new kink of mine was not something for grown-up married people to get into.

  Then in the darkness of the garage, the door to the kitchen opened, and framed in the doorway was the heart-stopping sight of Tessa wearing sexy black lace-topped hold-ups — and absolutely nothing else.

  "Did something happen I should know about?"

  "No, I just thought you might want to know what you’re leaving in the sole company of a young colle
ge stud while you go to work."

  "So I might thank him for warming you up for me?"

  "So you can fire him because you’re worried he’s just going to take me one day whether I like it or not."

  "Whether you like it or not? I can’t see you not liking it, the way you feel about him."

  "Oh you can joke, but you should see how he looks at me when I bring him coffee."

  We hadn’t gotten more than two yards from where she’d been standing in that doorway. She clearly thought she was fueling my lust by prodding my jealousy at her potential misbehavior. In reality it was this pretty demure brunette turned into an insatiable sex goddess that drove on my lust. I wasn’t angry — I was grateful to our new painter and decorator for that.

  "You’re still trying to get me to fire him because you can’t stop yourself lusting after a 19-year-old college boy?"

  I had picked her up and placed her on the granite countertop in our kitchen, and after 90 minutes sitting in traffic, I was hungry. Her thighs parted wide as she leaned back on her elbows, opening herself to my craving for her soaking wet pussy.

  She seemed to me freshly showered and prepared for me, but in even the briefest time between shower and my return, she’d become very wet. Her dark scent of arousal was thick, her pink pussy lips glistening, and I didn’t waste a moment before burying my face between her thighs to feast upon her.

  Oh God, she was magnificent. This was how she was for a while that summer — making the most of this renewed energy between us to tease me each time I returned home. On the days I wasn’t late, she would dress provocatively while I was putting Marcus to bed, before pouncing on me, to reveal the frustrations that had built up in her during the day while she had Robert Donovan around the house.

  She teased me about how Robert liked to strip down to the waist while he was working, how she liked to gaze upon his ripped body, imagining running her hands all over him, tracing out the edges of his muscles as she stroked the taut skin moistened by his manly sweat.

  I teased her about having such a huge crush on a guy and being unable to do anything about it but wait for her husband to return.

  As I pressed my tongue into her hot, wet pussy I dropped hints for her to imagine it was him. As she sucked my big hard cock, I reminded her how she’d thought of doing just this to Robert earlier that day — I didn’t know whether she had or not, but I assumed it, and her reactions did not refute my assumptions. We tended to make love all over the house, usually downstairs to give us more chance of leaving Marcus asleep.

  When we were feeling particularly bad, we went down into the basement, Robert’s temporary domain, and my teasing her about giving into the man took on added tension. I suppose it made me imagine how the two of them might be down there.

  It was hot, furious sex down there, Tessa holding onto Robert’s step ladder while I gripped her hips tight and plunged into her from behind. Or myself sitting on the bottom step, Tessa bouncing up and down on my lap, often facing away from me, as though teasing me that she was thinking of another man.

  And what started as teasing soon became straightforward role-play — me playing Robert, Tessa playing herself unable to fend him off any more.

  It was as though we’d discovered Viagra or something. Jesus.

  Afterwards we’d lie back and talk, perhaps, which often took the form of Tessa trying to understand why I wasn’t angry at her, jealous at her for flirting with Robert, and not even bothering to hide it from me.

  "You enjoy flirting with him," I said. "I know that. It makes you feel sexy again. He’s impartial proof that you’re hot — not a husband duty-bound to complement you."

  "That makes me sound horribly self-obsessed."

  "It’s just getting the self-confidence back after having Marcus, that’s all. I love how it’s changed you."

  "And you’re not a little scared it might go too far? That he might think I’m leading him on?"

  "I trust you."

  I sugar-coated my feelings a little — I mean, I was nervous, I was jealous, I was a bundle of fear, but how could she understand that this was exciting to me, all bound up in the elation I felt over her almost constant state of arousal this summer. Somehow the risk, the danger that Tessa would one day find herself unable to step back, that she might perhaps kiss Robert, touch him, take him to her bed — that precipice of fear only enhanced the thrill of coming home to a horny wife desperate for fulfillment.

  "Millie from my Mom’s Circle was saying she thought I was pregnant again."

  "Pregnant?"

  "I’m not pregnant."

  "Thank God! Not that it wouldn’t be a wonderful thing, honey…"

  "She was just saying how I’m always, like, glowing these days."

  "You tell her why?"

  "Well, she assumed if it wasn’t pregnancy, I must be cheating on you or something — I said no, it’s just my husband. She wants to know our secret."

  We seemed more comfortable with the idea of her flirting with him after a couple weeks, but I still detected hints in her conversation that she was still testing me, feeling out my limits, perhaps even trying to subtly scare me into ending this strange arrangement.

  "You know he’s getting less and less shy around me, you know?"

  "Really?"

  "When I give him a drink, he’s right there, close to me. I can smell his sweat."

  "That probably explains why you’re so wet right now. God, I was straight inside you like a shot tonight."

  "You know, he’s getting more and more comfortable around me," she was serious. "It’s going to go too far one day. He’ll end up grabbing me."

  "And then what? You won’t be able to stop him?" I felt a little light-headed at the prospect.

  "Maybe not."

  Chapter Six

  Of course, there was that big part of me that was nervous that Tessa was somehow unsafe in her flirtation with Robert — and yet logically, I knew she couldn’t be. She was always saying how sweet he was, how tender and kind. And Tessa knew his parents, of course. He would never try anything over and above what she was comfortable with.

  Increasingly, though, I found myself hoping he would try something.

  I wondered if it was that dangerous effect you get from a drug addiction: the drug itself stops having such an impact on you the more you take it, forcing you to take more and more, and perhaps move on to stronger drugs.

  With me, the thought of Tessa flirting with Robert was getting tired after a few weeks, once Robert had moved on from our basement to paint and decorate the garage, and the entire upstairs of our house. Tessa no longer questioned our dipping into the savings to pay for these improvements, and my protestations — that the extra value of the house would solve the issue of the spending — were no longer needed.

  I felt like I wanted more, and yet at the same time this craving, this dream was entirely lucid, I could see myself thinking these dark thoughts and they did terrify me as much as they excited me.

  Our love-making simmered into a three or four times per week schedule, but mainly because my work had gotten a little busier, leaving me working late a couple nights per week. Tessa did not seem to be cooling down much, and in fact I suspected she was, like me, feeling like pushing the boundaries a little more.

  I’d noticed her wearing shorter and shorter summer dresses when I got up and found her making breakfast for Marcus in the mornings. Then occasionally I found her wearing a bikini, something she hadn’t worn for years.

  "It’s going to be a hot day — I was going to top up my tan," she’d say by way of explanation, though that night as I asked her how Robert had responded to the sight of her in that bikini, the smile on her face and the blush in her cheeks, not to mention that her soaking pussy gripped my hard cock as though trying to hurt me — it all provided ample explanation for her increasingly risqué dress sense.

  By that stage I was becoming increasingly obsessed with the idea of watching my wife in the arms of another man — a non-threat
ening man, a college boy she’d never dream of leaving me for — even going all the way with him.

  And Tessa — well, perhaps some form of complacency had set in, but she seemed less driven by merely the thought of Robert, but more intent on how I responded sexually to the little tales she told about her little encounters with him.

  I guess at the basic level, I really liked that she was getting off on turning me on by telling me what was going on, I loved that she was so excited by driving me wild. It reminded me that even if she had a little fun here and there with her college boy, I was the focus of her love.

  "I left the door open a crack while I was changing into my swimsuit for Marcus’s swim class today," she said one evening as we lay in bed, with me between her thighs lapping at her succulent pussy.

  "And he saw you?"

  "He went to the bathroom — there’s no way he could have missed it."

  "What did he see?"

  "I think he saw me in very little. Underwear, maybe."

  That was enough to force me up and inside her, and she loved the force with which I took her.

  As I thrust inside her, she continued to tease me, saying: "I think I believe you now."

  "Believe me?" I grunted.

  "That Robert really wants me."

  Pushing hard and deep inside her, I could feel her pussy trembling around my cock. It suddenly made me wonder if this was what Robert would feel if he was in my place, how Tessa might be for him. I wanted to see.

  "Well, what are you going to do about it?" I heard myself say without really thinking.

  "Do about it?"

  "You want him, don’t you?"

  "God, yeah."

  "So are you going to waste all summer waiting for him to make a move?"

  Gazing into her eyes as I fucked her hard, it felt — to us both, I’m certain of it — that we were striding along some treacherous edge, teetering precariously to one side or the other, in serious danger of falling. Were we joking now, teasing each other about Tessa actually being with Robert, or were we being straight? It wasn’t quite clear, and yet that very ambiguity seemed to help us negotiate the fear factor, knowing that if either one of us suddenly seemed uncomfortable about this, we could step back and laugh it off as yet more role-play.