The Faithful Wife Vol. 2
Romance, Erotica, Erotica Shorts, BDSM, Fiction & Literature, Short Stories
| Author: | Ava J. Smith | ISBN: | 9781513089010 |
| Publisher: | Dark December LCC | Publication: | September 11, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | Ava J. Smith |
| ISBN: | 9781513089010 |
| Publisher: | Dark December LCC |
| Publication: | September 11, 2015 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
Deeper into the game he played, James realized the unknown and the uncertainties fueled the heat hotter than anything else. Was his wife sincere? Did the young gardener he recruited for 'help outside the garden' actually did as told, or were there dark, forbidden encounters James didn't know of...? Things his faithful wife Elsie did not tell him?
***
ELSIE WAS GETTING READY to go out and I watched her with pleasure as she moved around in our bedroom.
It was a bit past eight and I had slept in, Saturday having finally arrived.
She had just finished showering, still fussing about my breakfast.
"Just leave them covered, I can reheat stuff myself," I told her, smiling indulgently as she watched me from the mirror.
"All right, I guess..." she said, hand reaching for the many pots and tubes women had, the function of which I could never decipher.
What I loved was she was always true to her ritual, one of which was letting her robe loose and off her shoulder once she was deep in focus.
The curve that was the shape of her back, gliding slowly down to slender waist never failed to make me stop and appreciate it. My eyes tracked back to the mirror where Elsie had her arms together, focused on the task at hand, which was something about her eyes.
What I was focused on was how her breasts cradled between her arms, squished so deliciously, round and full and begging.
I imagined my head buried in her, but just as vividly another image came to mind, of Mitchell's head where I was supposed to be, deep between my wife's breasts.
I didn't think I was playing with fire, letting my wife spend time with the gardener so much—but lately I had begun to wonder.
I knew I enjoyed Elsie's reluctance—she still considered it cheating on me, no matter how many times I told her it was not—and I enjoyed my own jealousy and envy at the young man's sexual prowess. But...
There had been times when I wondered if the play acting had crossed a line somewhere. If one or two of the actors had turned sincere, or even if one or both of them had been playing me this whole time.
And why was that thought excited me even more than anything else?
Deeper into the game he played, James realized the unknown and the uncertainties fueled the heat hotter than anything else. Was his wife sincere? Did the young gardener he recruited for 'help outside the garden' actually did as told, or were there dark, forbidden encounters James didn't know of...? Things his faithful wife Elsie did not tell him?
***
ELSIE WAS GETTING READY to go out and I watched her with pleasure as she moved around in our bedroom.
It was a bit past eight and I had slept in, Saturday having finally arrived.
She had just finished showering, still fussing about my breakfast.
"Just leave them covered, I can reheat stuff myself," I told her, smiling indulgently as she watched me from the mirror.
"All right, I guess..." she said, hand reaching for the many pots and tubes women had, the function of which I could never decipher.
What I loved was she was always true to her ritual, one of which was letting her robe loose and off her shoulder once she was deep in focus.
The curve that was the shape of her back, gliding slowly down to slender waist never failed to make me stop and appreciate it. My eyes tracked back to the mirror where Elsie had her arms together, focused on the task at hand, which was something about her eyes.
What I was focused on was how her breasts cradled between her arms, squished so deliciously, round and full and begging.
I imagined my head buried in her, but just as vividly another image came to mind, of Mitchell's head where I was supposed to be, deep between my wife's breasts.
I didn't think I was playing with fire, letting my wife spend time with the gardener so much—but lately I had begun to wonder.
I knew I enjoyed Elsie's reluctance—she still considered it cheating on me, no matter how many times I told her it was not—and I enjoyed my own jealousy and envy at the young man's sexual prowess. But...
There had been times when I wondered if the play acting had crossed a line somewhere. If one or two of the actors had turned sincere, or even if one or both of them had been playing me this whole time.
And why was that thought excited me even more than anything else?
