By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2004 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

Francine braced herself against the shower wall, rotated the control to massage and, stepping back, presented her prodigious breasts to the pulsating spray. Pleasure flirted with pain as erotic currents surged through her body. The sensations provoked a kaleidoscope of memories. Like Freddie’s groan when he felt her lips circle the shiny, wet head of his cock just before she devoured it. Like the feel of Freddie’s warm hand stroking her belly and then moving on to her clit. The pungent smell of her own anticipation, as a rush of fluids readied her before he took her from behind. These vivid images left her mouth dry and her breathing uneven and raspy. Her knees buckled and she had to realign her feet to steady herself. Passion’s tongue was lapping insistently at her pussy’s door and she needed to feel its blazing heat. She abandoned her tits and they dropped, bouncing heavily against her slender torso. She bent over, reached between her legs, and greedily fingered her swollen clit.

Oh my God, it feels so good. I love him. I love him so …
He’s married. You’re going to get hurt …
I don’t care. I want to come …I’m so close …
He’s still married. You’re going to get hurt …

The needling debate continued, disrupting the erotic connection between her mind and body. Finally, she straightened up, sighed, and then laughed at herself. How many times had she already been aroused this afternoon? How greedy could one girl get? Grabbing the soap, she gave herself a final lather and rinsed quickly before climbing out of the stall.

She studied herself in the mirror as she dried herself. What a mongrel you are, she thought, smiling. An inability to racially define her had bedeviled many of her acquaintances. Their discomfort amused her. If they were truly interested, why didn’t they ask? She’d be happy to explain. African, Indian and European ancestry had co-mingled to produce this chocolate, gray-eyed creature and she accepted herself just as she was. Abundant, thick curls crowded her face, ran down over her breasts and halfway down her back. She bent over, vigorously toweling her hair, as her breasts slapped her knees and shins. She pictured Freddie, asleep in her bed. She’d worn him out this afternoon. It had been a couple of years since she’d made love to any man and never with such abandon. Of all the men she knew, Freddie was the one she most admired and respected. Freddie was the one she fantasized about and had loved from afar, for a long, long time.

He’s still married …
Not for long …
 

She straightened up and looked at herself again. She was glowing.

She tiptoed, barefoot and naked, into her bedroom. Freddie shifted restlessly. Poor baby, Francine thought. He’d been through so much. She picked up a vial of perfume from her dressing table and thoughtfully dabbed Chanel 5 behind each ear. Freddie groaned and turned onto his back. Probably having a bad dream, Francine thought, and why not? Julie, his bitch of a wife, had screwed him over royally. She’d been having an affair with Paul Thompson, Freddie’s boss, for over a year now. The entire law firm had known about them; everyone except Freddie, that is. But, now he knew.

Francine opened a drawer, picked out a matching peach bra and panty set and, after stepping into the panties, pulled them over her long fit legs and slim hips. She fastened her bra, twisted the hooks to the back, and leaned forward to adjust her huge breasts into the HH cups. She crossed the room to her walk-in closet and fingered the outfit she’d treated Freddie to this afternoon, the outfit he would wear tonight. What fun they’d had! She quickly inventoried her gowns and reached for the diaphanous peach number. Sleeveless, but topped by a mock turtle-neck, it would flow over her body like water over bare skin. It would fall to her ankles, covering everything, concealing nothing. In it, she would be irresistible, exactly what she wanted to be. Living well was the best revenge and by the end of their little visit, she wanted both Julie and Paul to know that Freddie was living well, very well indeed. From her shoe shelves, she chose a pair of high heeled lace up sandals. Mission accomplished, she thought. She placed the ensemble next to Freddie’s and walked out of the closet.

Her bedside clock read 6:30 PM. Their plan was to go up to Freddie’s apartment and surprise the unsuspecting couple around 8:00 PM. Freddie was snoring lightly. He looked perfectly innocent and carefree. Tears clouded her sight as she eased onto the bed beside him and gazed wonderingly at the man she adored. She remembered when she’d first run into him this afternoon, up on the roof. She could still feel the desperate sadness that had oozed out of him as he shared his plight.

Just as he was nearing the airport, he’d gotten the news of the Judge Reiner’s death. His trip cancelled, he returned home, checked his messages and intercepted his wife’s fateful message from Paul: Glad to hear that we have a few days. I can be at the house by 6. I’ll bring wine, something special. Your decision to tell Freddie about us might be premature. We’ll talk about it when I get there, but hold off until then. We have to consider the firm. We’re about to make Freddie a partner. Let’s not rock any boats right now. Anyway, I’ll see you later, darlin’. Wear my favorite little nothing.

There was no mistaking the intent, the intimacy. An obviously devastated Freddie had gone up to his condo’s roof deck and that’s where Francine had found him, beer in hand, pain seeping out of his every pore. He told her everything and then shared his dreams, his present fears and past disappointments. She’d spared him nothing, letting him know of his wife’s longstanding and well know infidelity with Paul. She destroyed any hope he might have had for his marriage, any illusion he might have harbored about his wife’s loyalty. And then she’d made love to him, with all the passion and respect and caring she’d been feeling and hiding for years. She took a shattered man and seduced him into knowing that he was a good man, a kind man, a handsome and talented man. She loved him until he loved himself, until he submitted to her love.

As they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, she challenged him to confront Julie and lay bare his demons. He agreed, but she could sense his apprehension. He needed a treat! She drove him downtown and introduced him to a stylist friend who treated him like a movie star preparing for an opening. His hair, face, nails, outfit and shoes were all taken care of. Together they created a personal look and style that Freddie loved. On the way home, he told Francine that he felt like a new man, thanking her over and over for doing something for him that he’d never have done for himself. She patted his hand, told him he was ‘welcome’, but the joy and vibrancy shining from his eyes were all the thanks she needed.

Francine smiled down at Freddie, remembering how cocky he’d looked with his hands stuck jauntily in the pockets of his brand new jeans. He told them that he hadn’t bought a pair since his college days and certainly never at an Armani boutique. Julie wouldn’t approve. He chose an orange striped shirt and tan linen jacket that stood brazenly outside his usual conservative choices. He studied the blond streaks in his newly styled hairdo and blushed. He didn’t have to tell her that he felt years younger. He looked as happy and free as a ball batted out of the park. She’d watched as he handled the edge of his jacket and eased it open. He pouted his lips and cocked his hip, posing like a Calvin Klein model. And she’d spotted his giant hard-on, just like she was noticing it now.

She couldn’t resist and besides, what better way to wake him. She collected a mouthful of saliva, as perfectly warm as pussy juice, as she gently scratched the sensitive skin along his thighs up to his balls. She cupped his full balls in her hands and welcomed his cock into her mouth. She waited for his shivering, involuntary pleasure before beginning to suck and twirl her tongue over and around it. She added her soft hands to the play and he began to murmur his appreciation. She seduced him awake and then abandoned him. And when he begged for more, she shut him up with a kiss. The kiss was long and deep, a fucking kiss that was more seductive than her mouth on his cock had been. And when he began to plunge his cock desperately against her soaking wet panties, she gathered him to her waiting breasts, entwining him with her arms and strong legs. “Relax, baby,” she cooed. He soon succumbed, allowing his head to be drowned in her long, deep river of cleavage.

“Time to get up,” she said after a while. “We’ve got people to see.”

As Freddie showered, Francine rinsed her sex-soaked and only pair of matching peach panties. She left to go to laundry room to dry them, but soon returned to taunt him. She called his wife ‘Julie, the cow’ and reminded him of her every indiscretion. There was method in her madness. Freddie was a kind man and she wanted him primed to inflict pain as it had been inflicted on him. Francine had been privy to too many of his boss’ manipulations. How many times had Paul contravened her autonomy, prearranging Freddie’s assignment to out of town cases? All other relegations were left entirely up to her. Besides that, if she had a dollar for every time Paul had come on to her, she’d be a very rich Francine. Well, tonight there would be full disclosure and she and Freddie would deliver the final and winning argument.

They got ready like a couple who’d lived and loved together for a long time. Neither got in the other’s way and they chatted with consummate ease. Francine slipped into her closet for her final touches and when she came out, Freddie was admiring himself in the mirror. She sneaked up behind him.

“Aren’t you the one?” she giggled. “You look great! Now, what do you think of me?”

She posed and twirled like a music box dancer.

“You look beautiful,” Freddie gushed, blushing at being caught preening; blushing at her bouncing mounds.

Francine moved in front of him, close enough for her enormous breasts to insinuate themselves against his chest. She pressed closer as she ran her tongue deliberately across her lips. She moved around him with a graceful insolence, knowing that she was irresistible beneath the tempting folds. As she circled, he followed her; a puppet on a string. Could her dark pebbly nipples be seen? Sometimes and sometimes not, she was the ultimate tease. She strutted away from him and then hurried back to kiss his lips so quickly and gently that all that registered was his longing to have them back. She knew that his mind was seething with the day’s erotic reminiscences. He was seeing her in her bikini up on the roof, her huge breasts mesmerizing him. He was hearing her animal groans of pleasure as he took her from behind, as he teased her clit to orgasm. He could still smell her pussy and relish the power he felt as he looked into her hungry eyes. And she knew that he wanted it all again, and now. His eyes were glazed over. His long thick cock was straining against his jeans. He was climbing the ladder to paradise. Francine outlined her aureole with a chocolate lacquered nail. Her erect nipples extended themselves obscenely. She pulled at them, twisted them between thumb and forefinger, and waited for pre-cum to leak into Freddie’s pants. When she saw the quarter-sized stain appear, she knew he was ready.

“Time to go,” Francine said, laughing. “You look gorgeous! Julie’s going to be very angry with herself before we’re through.”

Freddie felt dizzy. He couldn’t recall ever feeling as wonderful as this beautiful creature made him feel. But, he was also anxious about confronting Julie and Paul. What state would he find them in? They could be fucking their brains out, for all he knew. God knows, she hadn’t been giving him any.

Let’s go,” Francine said, offering her hand.

It was warm, soft and reassuring. Freddie realized that he would do anything for this woman. All she’d have to do is ask. Francine grabbed their bottle of wine and, hand in hand, they walked through the door and down the hall to Freddie’s apartment.

Freddie unlocked the door and entered the condo quietly. Francine followed. They could hear muffled voices coming from the living room. Julie sounded cold and tense, her words clipped.

“She’s pissed off about something,” Freddie whispered.

They continued down the hall. The voices, while louder, were still indistinct. Suddenly, Francine tugged on his arm. They stopped. They heard:

“I can’t go on like this anymore. We have to tell Freddie.” Julie’s voice was now tearful and imploring.

“We can’t tell him. I’m not about to subject my firm to this kind of scandal. Freddie’s an important part of my team. Soon to be partner. I thought you knew what this was.” Paul’s voice was steady and harsh in its certainty.

“But that was before we made plans, before . . .”

“Now,” Francine instructed.

“Julie? Surprise, I’m home!” Freddie called out, seconds before they rounded the corner into the living room.

Julie didn’t have time to unwrap her arm from around Paul’s shoulder. Her mouth gaped open. She resembled a beached fish, gasping for breath, desperate to be back in calm waters. Paul sat back frozen, both arms raised in the air like an apprehended criminal’s. Julie scrambled clumsily off his lap and stood one determined arm over the open-bust and the other hand over the open-crotch of her itty-bitty teddy.

“Hello Julie, new outfit?” Freddie asked, as if she were wearing a business suit. “Not your usual style, but nice!” He approached the couch, hand extended. “Hello Paul.”

Smiling inanely, Paul jumped up and grabbed Freddie’s hand, pumping zealously. Julie made a soft gurgling sound which seemed to unglue her from the floor. She lurched forward only to find an intrepid Francine squarely blocking her path.

“I’ve moved into the Penthouse next door. Howdy neighbor,” Francine purred, offering Julie the wine. A hapless Julie just stood there. “Hello Paul,” Francine continued, “fancy meeting you here.”

“Hi Francie,” Paul said, rising to the occasion. He gave her a quick hug and returned his attention to Freddie. “Case wrapped up already, you clever boy?”

“Nope, canceled,” Freddie said. “Judge Reiner passed away last night.”

“I didn’t . . .”

“Of course you didn’t know. How could you? You were away from the office all day, obviously on very important business,” Francine interrupted, staring straight at Julie.

Julie squeaked and scampered around her, out of the room, and down the hall toward the bedroom.

Francine laughed and, holding the wine aloft, moved between Freddie and Paul. Eenyy-meeny-miny-mo. Who’s the host? I don’t know.''

“Give me that,” Freddie said, grabbing the wine playfully. “You’re a wicked woman.”

While Freddie opened up the wine, Francine toyed with Paul. She sidled onto the couch and crossed her legs, displaying herself to best advantage. Satisfied only when she noted the bulge tenting Paul’s pants, she touched his thigh and whispered conspiratorially, “You should be ashamed of yourself. In the man’s own home, no less! Julie must have you by the short hairs.”

“Au contraire,” Paul confided. “I’ve been trying to end this thing for the longest time, but she just won’t have it. She kept threatening to tell Freddie. Well, I guess the gigs up now. I feel sorry for the guy, being saddled with that one. I just want out!”

Freddie came over and placed a tray with the wine and four glasses on the coffee table.

Just then, Julie strode into the room, in her most conservative beige pantsuit. She seemed almost herself except for the red spots blotting her usually cool complexion, her quivering lip and the shaking hand that reached for a glass. She stood, guzzling the wine thirstily.

“Sorry,” Francine said, “I’m in your seat.” She got up and gestured Julie over to the seat next to Paul.

“That’s not necessary,” Julie mumbled, refilling her goblet.

“What do you think of Freddie’s new look?’ Francine asked. “I think he looks hot, hot, hot.”

“Freddie knows that I don’t like jeans on a mature man,” Julie grumbled.

“And the naughty boy‘s wearing them anyway. What about his hair?”

“Looks nice, I guess,” Julie said begrudgingly.

“I really don’t quite know what to make of all this,” Francine said, biting her lower lip. She seated herself on the love seat next to Freddie. “Help me Freddie. You came home to your wife sitting on your boss’ knee in her unmentionables. What do you make of it all?”

“I don’t know,” Freddie said, shaking his head somberly. “You’d better ask Julie.”

“Your right, of course,” Francine said. “Julie what’s going on here?”

“Nothing’s going on,” Julie stonewalled. “No matter what you think is going on.”

“Okay, this is getting us nowhere. I have plans for tonight,” Francine said. “Let’s wrap this baby up. You and Paul were caught red-handed tonight. I know it, you and Paul know it, and Freddie knows it. I also know that Paul’s been trying to get into my pants and out of yours for ages. That’s what I know is going on.” Francine reached for a glass, held it up and toasted. “Let’s all drink to what’s going on!”

“To what’s going on,” chorused Freddie and Francine, clinking and sipping.

Julie and Paul appeared deaf and dumb.

“I think I’m going to go. Give you two a chance to work things out,” Francine said.
She stood and began moving toward the door.

“Good idea,” Paul almost shouted. He bounded off the couch and was by Francine’s side lickety-split.

“Thanks Francine,” Julie said, following them, glaring hatefully at Paul.

Francine turned back toward the loveseat. “Come, baby,” she said, holding out her arms to Freddie.

They seemed the only live ones in the room as he came into her arms. They hugged.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Julie shrieked to no one in particular.

“Doing? It’s done,” Freddie said matter of factly. “I’ll call and arrange to pick up my things in the next few days. “By the way, Paul, draw up the divorce papers and make it quick, cheap and simple.”

Freddie and Francine were out of the room and the condo before another word was spoken.

“I’m glad that’s over,” Freddie said, as Francine unlocked her door. “After the fact, it all seems anti-climactic.”

“For the rest of your life, everything’s going to seem anticlimactic compared to this!”

She slammed the door behind them, pinning Freddie against it. He felt her breasts, through material, pressing tantalizingly against him. He felt her hands measuring his girth, unzipping his pants, feeling his turgid flesh. He heard the sound of clothes coming of, hers and his. He felt skin, hers and his; and then the hardwood floor giving him no ease as she rode him. He hadn’t known that he could be teased and fucked so thoroughly, so completely. He was inside her and then he was out. Her tongue invaded and then deserted him. Her hands were stroking his cock and then squeezing his balls. And then she was gone; lying there on the floor beside him, her legs spread and her moans loud and haunting. She was a woman who needed to be fucked. She was a woman demanding to be fucked.

She knew it wouldn’t last long because it couldn’t. Freddie was too aroused. He was taking her, screwing her, fucking her with a madman’s zeal.

“Here,” she said offering her tits, making them wet with her own saliva.

Freddie fucked her breasts, almost weeping with ecstasy as she licked the head poking rhythmically out of her cleavage. And he collapsed with gratitude when he finally spilled his hot maleness all over her tits.

“Feel safe,” Francine said, snuggling into him.

“You feel safe, too,” Freddie said, caressing her hair. “I’m all yours,”

It took a while for them to gather the energy to separate themselves, crawl to the bedroom and into bed. Their clothes would have to wait until morning.