Beware of What You Wish For

The only thing that disappointed me was that every time we did it, we just screwed. It was hard core sex. There was no love. No romance. No tenderness. It was my own fault. I wanted to ruin Ian so badly by fucking his wife that I kept feeding her the aphrodisiac.

But after spending time with her I knew I wanted more. I wanted to make love to her. I wanted her to come wide eyed and willingly to share my bed. I wanted her to give herself to me and worship me and my cock without the benefit of chemical or herbal help. Even in her drug infused haze she knew what it was like to fuck me but I wanted her to experience my softer side. In my mind if I could get his beloved wife to knowingly cheat on him, that would definitely put Ian firmly in his place for ever. It was something perhaps that I could work on. To find a way. But that would have to wait for another day.

By the time we paused momentarily for food and drink her pussy was bright red and swollen and my cock was still as hard as iron. And that was the problem. It never went down and even though it was beginning to hurt and I could barely produce any sperm now, it didn't matter. When she went down to get the food I spiked her drink again. Anything to keep this going for as long as I could.

It was on one of her trips to the kitchen that her mobile phone vibrated on the dresser. I scrambled out of bed and read the message. It was from Ian. Where are you, it said. Why haven't you picked up my calls?

I quickly deleted the message and after a brief moment of reflection, deleted the call log.

GINA'S STORY

Paul finally left. We'd been fucking all day long and most of the night. I was actually exhausted hours before he went home but somehow I just couldn't stop. I was so shagged out that it never occurred to me that Paul was still spiking my drinks. It was like my pussy was on fire and the only thing that could put out the flames was Paul ramming his big thick cock inside me over and over again. I was as high as a kite and it just made my lustful desire worse.

When I awoke the following morning my head was throbbing fit to burst. I eventually made it downstairs and consumed a vast amount of water to try and flush out my system. I threw up and then tried to eat something and threw up again. It was hours before I came around and by the time I did it was night time.

And it was when the drink and drug fuelled hangover subsided that the guilt and remorse finally hit home. I had cheated on my darling husband. And what made it worse; with Paul, a man I wasn't sure I even liked that much. Certainly not enough to have sex with him even if I was single!

But then I remembered the catalyst and my anger returned. The bastard had sold me out to his boss! He'd betrayed me ... no, US ... for his thirty pieces of silver and I doubted I could ever forgive Ian for that. I had loved him heart and soul and thought I knew every nuance of his character but now ... now I wasn't so sure.

It was then I realised that he still hadn't contacted me. And my anger got worse.

I checked my mobile phone. Nothing. Fuck him to hell then! I switched it off and went to bed.

IAN'S STORY

I couldn't believe Gina hadn't answered my calls. This was so unlike her. I tried her mobile for what must have been the hundredth time but nothing, nada!

I was all over the place what with the time difference and chronic jet lag and as my blood sugar levels plummeted due to lack of food, I was having a hard job trying to work out what time it was back home.

I rang again. It didn't even go to voice-mail.

As I hailed a cab outside my hotel I tried again to work out what time it was back home and realised that it was Friday night. I resolved to call her after my evening meal here. Hopefully I would catch up with her then.

GINA'S STORY

I couldn't believe it when Paul came to my house the next day. It was Saturday and I was already in a bad mood because Ian still hadn't contacted me and Paul was most definitely the last person I wanted to see right now. And when he acted like nothing had happened it only pissed me off more. I didn't let him inside my house. It was pouring with rain and I made him stand outside.

"So what do you want?" I asked icily.

He sucked in a deep breath and pursed his lips. "Well ... the thing is ... I need you to help me out again Gina," he said.

"You've got to be kidding me," I spat back in reply, "After what you did to me!"

"I know, look I'm sorry but I really do need your help ..."

He looked pitifully at me. The little boy lost look, made all the worse by the fact he was now soaked to the skin. And the rain continued to lash down. Served him right. I folded my arms under my breasts as I cocked my head to one side and glared at him.

"Why should I do anything to help you? You fucked me Paul! You made me cheat on my husband, your work colleague, the man who's supposed to be your friend! You're as guilty as he is, offering him money so you could fuck me! I may be extremely angry with Ian and he has a lot to answer for when he gets home but I'm furious with you!"

Paul looked suitably chastened but credit where credit's due, there was a reason for him being here and he was nothing if not persistent. He just shrugged his shoulders and ignored my rant.

"The thing is ... my clients, well the boss ... Mr Cresswell ...he wants us to go and spend the weekend with him and his wife. It seems they really enjoyed your company." He hesitated as he saw my mouth drop open.

"I know ... I know," he said quickly, "but he hasn't signed the contract yet ... but he said he would after we spend time with them ... this weekend!"

I shook my head slowly from side to side. I couldn't believe his cheek. He must really think I'm a mug.

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!" I exploded. I rarely swore like that but I was fuming.

"Seriously Gina ... I wouldn't ask you to do this, in fact I'm actually amazed you're allowing me to stand here and talk to you ... but it doesn't alter the fact that I need you to help me land this client."

"NO!" I made to close the door but Paul grabbed at it to keep it open.

"Please Gina, just give me a few more minutes to explain."

I continued to glare at him.

"Please ..."

It took a while but I finally relented and invited him inside and he turned on the charm for the next hour or so. He pleaded his case, telling me that he was so close to landing the deal that would be worth millions to the company. It guaranteed work for hundreds of people for a long time and all he needed was for me to act as his wife for one last time.

He made a good case, especially when he appealed to my humanitarian side regarding people's job security for years to come. I tried to remain unconvinced and made the bastard sweat. At one point he was even down on his knees begging me to reconsider my refusal. I think he sensed I was weakening when I began to ask him questions about what was going to happen at the Cresswell's and how long we would be expected to stay.

After a bit of heated negotiating over my strict behavioural guidelines we eventually compromised. We both agreed that we would have an evening meal with them. In spite of my serious misgivings I begrudgingly gave in to the overnight stop due to the distance we had to travel. He didn't like it but at least Paul gave in to my request that we leave first thing Sunday morning.

Needless to say, it was late afternoon when Paul pulled his car off the road to enter the sweeping driveway that led to his client's mansion, although when we pulled up outside the front entrance I realised it wasn't actually a mansion, just a rather large house. But it was still fairly imposing all the same.

Mr Cresswell and his wife met us at the door and welcomed us like long lost friends. They made us leave our overnight bags in the hallway and took us through to their delightful lounge for early evening aperitifs. I thought it was a bit early but went along with it anyway.

I admit they were charming company and I really enjoyed myself. The evening meal they served up would not have been out of place in a two star Michelin restaurant, it was that good. And so was the wine. Almost too good. And there was a different one for each course. After the meal Mr Cresswell asked if we wanted a brandy or whisky or even a glass of port just to finish off the meal and aid our digestion. Paul rose quickly from his chair, volunteering to serve everyone for which Mr Cresswell thanked him profusely. Paul was certainly scoring some serious brownie points with him.

But it was when Mr Cresswell started to preach about family values and the sanctity of marriage that it got a bit sticky. He told us that his company operated on an ethical basis and held no truck with companies and individuals that didn't believe in fidelity and trust and all which that entailed.

And then he told us that he was only signing a contract with Paul because although he thought his company was one of the best in the business, what had really tipped the balance in his favour was Paul's obvious loyalty and love and devotion towards his family and especially his wife ... ME!

They could see how deeply in love we were. When he said that both he and his wife looked lovingly at us both. Paul quick as a whip seized hold of my hand and squeezed it and then looked adoringly at me.

Ha ... what a wanker!

And then it was all I could do not to burst out laughing when Paul wholeheartedly agreed with him. He then went on to wax lyrically about the virtues of honesty and trust in any relationship and especially marriage of course and of how his whole life, both business and personal, had been devoted to the pursuit of and the preservation of human morality.

Mr Cresswell lapped it up and judging by the misty eyed look on her face, so did Mrs Cresswell. Paul was the consummate salesman. Lying, cheating, devious and devoid of any scruples. He had all the right attributes. No wonder he was successful. I was suddenly so grateful that Ian wasn't like him.

It struck me hard when that thought entered my head. I had cheated on my husband. I had committed the ultimate sin and truly did feel dreadful about it.

But then again, it wasn't my fault, it was his. My drink enhanced anger started to rise once more. He had sold me out, the bastard! I drained my glass of port. Paul seeing my glass was empty immediately jumped up and fussed about getting me a refill. I'd already had a lot of wine to drink but I quickly took my refilled glass from him and took a healthy shot.

It was then I realised that Mr and Mrs Cresswell had stood up from the table.

"Well if you will excuse us," Mr Cresswell politely said, "my wife and I like to retire early on a Saturday night."

They started to move towards the door. Paul and I stood too, not sure of what was happening. It had certainly caught us on the hop.

Mr Cresswell paused, turning back to face us. "When you're ready to retire, your room is the one at the top of the stairs, the door will be open."

He turned back to his wife and took her hand. "Goodnight," they said in unison. As they walked away I saw his hand drop onto her ass cheeks and give them a little squeeze. And then they were gone.

Paul and I looked gob-smacked at each other. And then we giggled. It was so absurd but we didn't want to offend them. It seemed strange that we as guests had been left to fend for ourselves whilst our hosts had retired for the evening. Most odd.

"Well, what do you make of that?" Paul whispered to me.

I just shook my head and smiled in reply. I had no answer.

We sat down and carried on drinking and making idle chit chat for a while. Paul refilled my glass of port once more whilst he finished off the wine. When the clock on the mantelpiece struck ten, we decided that we too should adjourn to our room. I was glad because I wanted an early start in the morning. As soon as I stood up I knew I'd had a little too much to drink but I still felt I was in control of myself.

When I'd agreed to accompany him here, one of the conditions was that Paul would have to sleep on a chair or failing that on the floor of the bedroom. There was definitely going to be no repeat of the other night. He had agreed with me and stated that we should draw a line under what had transpired on the Wednesday night and most of Thursday. When he put it like that it brought home to me just how much sex we'd actually had. And I was very uncomfortable with that recollection.

We climbed the stairs and sure enough there was the open door. I gasped as we went in. The room the Cresswell's had given us was really small and quite out of keeping with the rest of the house. And it was dominated by a king sized bed. There was no room for any other furniture.

I looked over at Paul. "Looks like the floor for you then." He just stared back with a non committal look on his face. Without thinking I started to undress before realising that he was watching me and I could tell by the look on his face what he wanted.

"Paul, you can take that look of your face. I've already told you you're not going to fuck me again. Besides you agreed." I scowled at him before going into the bathroom to change into my nightwear.

When I came back out, I found Paul in bed. My bed.

"Paul ..." I said sternly.

"But Gina, there's no room on the floor," he said feebly, "and besides I've checked and there's no spare bedding."

I looked around the room. Sadly he was right about the floor. "Okay, okay you can stay," I begrudgingly replied, "but you'll have to scoot over to the other side."

He moved over as I climbed into bed and lay down on my back with my arms straight down by my sides. My nightwear consisted of a small nightie that came halfway down my thighs. The top half was held up with spaghetti straps and it was a tight fit, the clingy material moulding itself around my large breasts. As I'd put it on I had been wondering what had possessed me to bring something so revealing. I should have packed my unflattering pj's.

We lay there for a while in the darkness. I was in a reflective mood and began to mull over the events of the last few days. If only I'd kept my big mouth shut before making that stupid statement about wanting to go on a platonic date with Paul. If I'd done that then none of this sad, sorry mess would have happened.

And it was then that I heard a thud. It was a distinct sound.

There it was again. This time it was louder.

And again. And then it became more frequent, almost rhythmical.

Paul rolled over onto his side so that he was facing me. "Can you hear that?" he whispered.

"Uh huh," I replied.

"You know what it is don't you?"

I didn't answer him straight away so I heard the sound his hand made as he slid it across the bed-sheet towards me. He touched my hand. I felt a slight tingle spark up my arm. I lay perfectly still but I didn't pull away.

"The Cresswell's ... they're having sex!" he whispered excitedly.

His fingers moved onto my arm. I tensed as he slowly and very softly began to rub up and down it.

I could clearly hear Mrs Cresswell moaning now as the thudding sound continued unabated. My stomach muscles spasmed and then contracted and I felt a faint stirring between my legs. I was finding it hard to control my breathing and was very conscious that Paul would soon be aware that I was becoming aroused.

PAUL'S STORY

I sensed Gina was becoming aroused. It was her irregular breathing that first gave it away. That and the fact she didn't react to my hand being on her arm.

One of her conditions when agreeing to accompany me to the Cresswell's this weekend was that the sex of the other night would not be repeated. In fact it was the main condition. I was understandably unhappy about that as I desperately wanted to fuck her again. But I'd worked hard at hiding it from her and it now seemed the gods were looking down on me favourably once more.

Okay, I'll come clean. As much as I wanted her to come to me of her own free will, I wasn't confident that she ever would. So I'd spiked her drink. I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't resist. She looked so hot again.

When I volunteered to get the after meal drinks it had been easy to slip a bit of powder into Gina's glass of port. A trick I repeated on her refill. I was careful and put in more than I'd used at the soiree but nowhere near as much as I had in the hotel room. I was hoping to get the balance right. I needed her aroused enough to be horny but I didn't want her to be overwhelmed by a lust driven frenzy of desire. Last time it was as if any random cock would have done to fulfil the burning need to fuck. No; if I was going to get lucky she had to know we were making love. She had to be fully aware of that fact and willingly want me to.

I looked across to her. She'd now shrugged off most of the bed-covers and she looked fabulous. She lay motionless apart from her chest which was rising and falling just a little bit more than it was a couple of minutes ago. Her lips looked so inviting especially when they parted slightly and her tongue slipped out to lick them. I so wanted to kiss them.

I let my fingers travel a bit further up her right arm to where it met the swell of her large right breast.

As I pressed into her flesh her eyes shot open but it wasn't a reaction to what I was trying to do. The thudding noise had increased until it was just a continuous noise and then Mrs Cresswell let loose. She had obviously just cum to her orgasm judging by the long drawn out shriek that we both heard.

"Oh my god!" Gina gasped. She propped herself up on her elbows and turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were wide open with a look of total surprise. She pulled a face. "Crikey!"

I laughed at her reaction and she giggled back. I glanced down at her breasts. Even laying back a little, her jiggling breasts retained their colossal shape, proudly pushing away from her slim body. Her nipples were straining against the fabric of her nightie. The twin nubs were large and very distinctive so I figured she was obviously aroused.

"You don't think they invited us here to do a bit of wife swapping do you?" I asked with a cheeky glint in my eye.

"Nooo ..." Gina replied, "anyway, how could they after that speech Mr Cresswell gave about fidelity and devotion and all that other stuff?"

"Well you know what they say. It's usually the self righteous puritans that prove to be the most hypocritical, perverted, fucked up people out there! Anyway even if they did, there's no way I'd swap you for Mrs Cresswell. I don't fancy her for one thing!"

Gina looked at me funnily.

"What!" I said with a smile, "just saying..."

She tutted loudly and then lay back down flat on her back, her arms straight down the sides of her body again.

My fingers went back on her arm and resumed their wanderings. She didn't pull away not even when they ended up back at her breast, which is where they stayed. I gently rubbed the outer swell of her boob and eventually she shifted her arm allowing me better access. It wasn't a lot but it was an improvement.

And then the thudding noise started up again along with Mrs Cresswell's moans and groans.

"My god, the man's a machine," Gina gasped out loud. I don't think she intended me to hear that.

I gave it a few minutes hoping that Gina would respond to the duel effects of my increasingly daring ministrations on her right breast and the erotic goings on in the Cresswell's bedroom.

I waited until her lips parted and I saw her breathing deepen before I leant over and kissed her on her full red lips. At the same time my right hand moved over her body and encircled her left breast.

She didn't object too much. There was a brief struggle as she tried to avert her lips from mine and she attempted to shrug off my hand but I won out in the end. I always was a persistent bastard.