Other Men's Wives

The weak bugger was unashamedly crying in front of me. "Please Dave Help me," he begged. "I only did it because Debbie was so unhappy in that tiny flat and I desperately needed money for a mortgage and furniture. I'll do anything. If you don't report me I'll be grateful for the rest of my life."

The plain fact was that I had to help him - any investigation of his ham-handed embezzlement stood a good chance of uncovering evidence of my own malpractice and I dare not take that risk. On the other hand, he had taken money that I felt rightfully belonged to me and I was determined that he was not going to get away Scot-free. "Pull yourself together," I said sharply. "Acting like this you are never going to inspire me to help you." I waited for a long moment, letting my words hang in the air between us feeding his despair, and then I said softly, "But Debbie might."

Steven looked up sudden hope in his face but it was quickly replaced by puzzlement. "Debbie - why Debbie?"

I looked hard directly into his eyes and said slowly, "For a long time I've wanted to know your wife a great deal better."

From his reaction, I might as well have said outright, 'Because I want to fuck her'. Steven got the implication straight away, jumped to his feet with a tortured cry of, "NO," bursting from his throat, he then stood throwing his head from side to side in an exaggerated manner. After a moment or two, in a calmer voice he said, "I could never ask her to do that - I don't see how you can expect me to."

"Please yourself," I said gathering together the papers on the desk.

Steven stood nonplussed having obviously expected me to press him on the matter. "I've only got to wait until you are busy making friends with your new cell mates," I explained. "You said yourself that Debbie is likely to get very lonely with you locked up in prison."

"Wait, I'll talk to her," he cried," - though I'm not sure if she'll do what you want."

"It all depends on how much she would like a little freedom," I said nonchalantly. "Tell you what - take the day off tomorrow to talk it over with her and then if she is agreeable you can bring her round to my house at 8 o'clock tomorrow night."

"You mean you want me to be there too?"

"Only as a delivery and collection service. You can pick her up again at eleven - no, you better make that eleven thirty." With that he skulked out and all I had to do was wait.

I was pretty certain that Steven would turn up with his wife and the following day at work I was in a constant state of semi arousal, filled with anticipation of the evening ahead. The doorbell rang exactly at the stipulated time. I ushered them both inside adopting the same pleasant manner that I had displayed on their other visits. "You will stay for a quick drink," I said to Steven, this being the only deviation from previous evenings and only done to underline the fact that he was to leave his wife to my tender mercies.

Both of my guests were obviously very much under strain. Debbie's lower lip was clamped between her teeth and she affected not to look at me while Steven appeared agitated, keeping his emotions under control only with difficulty. She sat clutching her glass in one hand with the other pulling the hem of the dress firmly down over her knees but he remained standing, constantly shifting from one foot to the other. I went through the motions of making polite conversation, sheer perversity causing me to include some sexual innuendo in my words but whatever the content, neither responded to anything that I said. After about ten minutes I let Steven go. The poor lad had 'bitten the bullet' simply by bringing his vulnerable wife to my lair so it could only be for reasons of mental sexual sadism that I chose to unnecessarily prolong his ordeal for so long.

Before he left they embraced with Debbie clinging to her husband as if about to face her doom while over her shoulder, he glared at me with a look of absolute hatred in his eyes. Returning from showing him to the door I found Debbie trembling on the edge of her seat, poised for flight like a frightened fawn and the mere fact of my reappearance caused her to empty her glass in one gulp. If I did not calm her down this would need to be rape and that was the last thing that I wanted so keeping a good distance from Debbie, I edged round to the drinks cabinet and then said gently, "There's no hurry. Perhaps you would like another drink."

She leapt at this temporary reprieve, nodding her head mutely at first and then managing a choked, "Thank you."

Rather than approach to collect her old glass I used a fresh one, giving her a more generous measure of liquor this time. She took the full glass without cringing and then, whether or not she smoked before that point, also accepted a proffered cigarette. I chose a chair some distance away and reclined in a casual manner. "You really are a very lovely girl," I said.

Debbie looked at me properly for the first time since entering the house. "I used to think that you were rather nice too," she replied. "That's why I can't understand why you are making me do this."

"There are two reasons," I told her. "If Steven is caught robbing the firm then it reflects on me as his superior. Then by asking me to hide it he puts me at equal risk when he had the benefit of the dishonesty. The second reason is that I have desired you from the first moment I saw you but saw no prospect of ever having you. Can you honestly blame me for grabbing this one chance?"

She gave me a small smile and admitted, "I suppose not."

I let her think about this for a short while and then ventured, "You must have had some idea how I felt about you."

Her smile was more natural this time. "I know that when you looked at me sometimes I felt naked - it made me terribly embarrassed but excited me a little bit at the same time. You're not that bad looking for an older man."

Her words were I think kindly meant but they left me damned by faint praise and rather aborted the line of dialogue that I had planned. My intention had been to give her plenty time to relax but now lack of suitable lulling conversation left me at a loss. I need not have worried because Debbie again suddenly drained her glass and stood up saying, "Let's get it over with."

I could see that she was treating this like a visit to the dentist but I intended that my ministrations should take much longer than any extraction and it was 'filling' rather than extraction that I had in mind. We went upstairs and I led her to the bedroom. During preparations I had ensured that the lighting was nicely subdued. Near the bottom of the bed Debbie hesitated as if wondering if I wanted to undress her but when I made no such move we both walked to opposite sides of the bed. She removed her blouse and skirt in a matter of fact manner facing me while she did so but then abruptly turned her back. Bending she took of her tights and pants from underneath her slip then straightened up to dispense with the bra. The last thing to go was the slip at which point she turned again holding the garment in front of her, effectively concealing the essential parts of her body.

I had stripped quickly and stood waiting. I was very aroused and my cock stuck out proudly in all its glory. When she saw it her eyes widened but she quickly looked away. I continued to watch and with some satisfaction saw her eyes creep back under lowered lashes. Then she outmanoeuvred me - "Can we have the lights out," she asked and as I turned slightly to comply, she dropped the slip and slid deftly beneath the covers on the bed. I reduced my expensive dimmer switch to the level of street lights filtered through bedroom curtains but the programmable unit had been set to grow imperceptibly brighter over the next hour.

Joining my conquest in the bed I reached out and brushed her breast. She shivered but that reaction and the erect nipple might have been due to temperature or tension rather than my touch. Restraining my eager hands I moved closer and leaned over to place my lips on hers but Debbie jerked her head away and said tightly, "You can do what you want to me but no kissing - I've got to save that for Steve."

This was a real disappointment because strangely, many of my fantasies had centred round her soft mouth. I slid my hand slowly down her body, over her belly, enjoying the feel of soft hair on my palm as it passed over her Venus mound. She lay stiffly beneath my touch but did part her legs slightly to give me access when I reached her upper thigh. Tentatively at first I began to tease her slit working for a reaction but when she remained obstinately passive, I upped the stakes by insinuating my middle finger to its fullest extent inside her vagina. Still she played dead. So, trying to make her acknowledge my actions, I worked through her most sensitive internal parts the approved manner but despite my best efforts, she remained completely unresponsive. Part of the trouble was that she was very dry but that was not totally unexpected. Withdrawing my hand, I put that finger in my mouth (nice) and then moved it back carrying a thin coat of saliva. Renewed contact did trigger a small twitch but I took this as inadvertent reaction to at renewed attack on the same target rather than immediate benefit of lubrication. Nevertheless, her twat did seem slightly more welcoming and this impression was confirmed by her internal juices becoming more in evidence.

She was ready. My base inclination was to climb aboard, ram it in her and give vent to my accumulated lust in one glorious fuck. With difficulty I suppressed that urge for I was intent upon a far subtler game. Taking my time I moved on top of her. Debbie did widen her legs to let me lie between - but not generously. This actually suited me very well for the moment. I slid my cock into her in a straightforward manner but only gave her about six inches of my length, aiming to simulate only what she was used to. My dick must have thicker than her husbands and this probably caused the small gasp when I first entered her. Initially she was very rigid, tensely awaiting the onslaught of what she had observed between my legs but when these sensations seemed little different from her husband's lovemaking, she gradually started to relax.

She lay under me, arms by her sides and head averted thinking whatever women think about in these circumstances. Actually I reckon that Debbie (and rape victims), while desperately trying to project their minds elsewhere will only be able to think about what is happening to them, whereas bored wives can probably to go through the mornings shopping list in their mind without the slightest effort. For about ten minutes I kept a steady monotonous rhythm giving the kind of bog standard missionary position fuck that millions of wives endure for most of their married lives. Debbie thought that she was safe - I wasn't reaching her and all that she had to do was lie and wait until it was over and then return to her dishonest hubby with the bargain satisfied. Then I gave her my other three inches.

I did it suddenly - no build-up, no warning. "Oooh," she gasped, her arms clutched me round the neck and her legs involuntarily twitched against my hips. I began long slow positive thrusts, ramming hard for maximum penetration - but trying to avoid causing the pain that she might welcome later. After that initial shock, the grip of her fingers loosened but she kept her arms around me. Debbie's thighs were wide spread now and slightly raised as she instinctively opened herself to me. Her breathing became far heavier and the fact that it coincided with my thrusts told me that we were now on the same wavelength. I knew that she was going to cum a long time before she realised and it gave me pleasure to play her like a twitchy fish on a low strength line. Then, "Oh God No - I can't, she gasped followed by "Oooooooh." It was only a tiny one as orgasms go but probably par for the course. That was it, she'd had her climax, the show was over - or so she thought. I let her drift for a couple of minutes and then applied the magic learned from a lifetime's experience. "Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh," she went, grinding her pelvis frenetically against me, her vaginal muscles in spasm. It was too much for me - my spunk gushed into her, not in individual spurts but one single torrent, like piss.

For a few moments, I continued to lie on still entwined top of her but then rolled off. Minutes more we lay touching hip and thigh until she eased herself away. Neither of us spoke and more time passed before she suddenly sat up swinging her legs out of bed. The duvet had been pushed clear during the sex and it was also much brighter in the bedroom but, unlike at the start, Debbie was not now self-conscious about her nakedness. I had not realised her intention until she leaned down to snatch a discarded garment from the floor. Quickly I rested a restraining hand on her thigh and murmured, "There's no hurry, Steven won't be here until after eleven. Stay here with me." There was not even the pretence of reluctance as Debbie lay back down beside me.

She lay flat on her back, eyes closed while I leaned on one elbow feasting my eyes on that glorious body. Her thin covering of pubic hairs were matted and damp and her inner regions remained partly exposed from my recent invasion, pink and moist - and showing traces of what is officially described as 'forensic evidence'. My mouth watered at the sight but I knew that it was too soon for that. Her breasts were a different matter - swelling mounds topped by thrusting red brown nipples, like cherries decorating twin scoops of ice-cream. I leaned forward and brushed one of the tempting nipples with my lips. She shivered again and this time I knew that it was not due to cold. Encouraged, I took it in my mouth to be rewarded by her long sigh of pleasure. Still she lay passively but now far from unresponsive. Following the principle of equity, after a while I moved across to give her other tit a turn. My penis was fully stiff again and this movement caused it to lie across her hand. Debbie made no effort to move her arm, instead easing her hand round so that my prick lay across the palm rather then the back.

I moved again, actually planning to try again for a kiss but Debbie, mistaking my intention, quickly swivelled her lower quarters towards me with her legs already spread. I didn't argue.

This time I could give her the benefit of my full expertise - I fucked her fast and I fucked her slow, I fucked her roughly and I fucked her very gently. At one point, resting on my arms to taking a momentary rest, I looked down to find her watching my face and when our eyes met she smiled. Shortly after that, in teasing mode, I held the end of my cock just touching the lips of her quim. I felt her quiver in anticipation of the expected thrust but when I still held off she was forced to beg, "Please, please. Put it in me please." This seemed to break the verbal block because after that she was constantly urging "Harder," or "Faster," - or murmuring appreciative comments like, "I love it," and "It feels so very nice inside me."

I won't bore you by describing her noises and words when she came. Suffice to say that it was a different league to the two puny orgasms of that first fuck. This time there was not just two or three - more like waves breaking on a beach and everybody had heard of the legendary seventh wave. I dumped my load just when I felt the tide was turning. Then surprise, surprise - my semen had hardly stopped squirting into her when Debbie roughly pulled my head down to hers and the next second her tiny wet tongue was inside my mouth.

We kissed some more and gently fondled each other. A surreptitious glance at the clock told me that it was ten to eleven - just right for a leisurely shower then downstairs for a drink and a chat before her husband arrived to take her home. Debbie had other ideas. "Do you think there's time for you to fuck me again Dave?" she whispered. It would have been churlish to refuse.

This last shag was far briefer but it left no time to lie and enjoy the afterglow. In a joking voice I said, "Now that wasn't such a terrible ordeal after all, was it?"

"It was wonderful," she said, "I only wish........"

I thought I knew what she had stopped herself saying and to give her another chance I said, "I'm only sorry that this is our only time together."

"I am too," she sighed.

Dressing quickly, I told Debbie to take her time, suggesting that she might like to take a shower. I had been downstairs for only a matter of minutes before the doorbell rang as expected. Steven stood on the doorstep his eyes tired with stress, showing that my three hours of delight had been anything but for him. I led the way though to the big room where he looked round anxiously for his wife. "Debbie's still in bed," I told him bluntly. "I expect that she will want to take a shower but that shouldn't take too long - I'll make you a drink while we're waiting."

"Is she all right?"

"Why shouldn't she be?"

"I mean - you didn't upset her?"

"Quite the contrary," I told him and had the satisfaction of seeing his jaw tighten as he quite plainly got the implication. "You really are a very lucky man - Debbie is an exceptional girl."

"LUCKY?" he spat out bitterly. "How the hell can you say I am lucky after....." - his sentence tailed off as he gestured vaguely towards the upstairs with his head.

"Of course you're lucky," I insisted. "You've got a beautiful wife and £80,000 that you are not entitled to. I reckon that in one short evening, Debbie has earned more than the highest priced call-girl in the world." Steven seemed to draw some consolation from this thought until I threw in the kicker, "And worth every penny."

This intolerable thought made him ask aggressively, "What about your side of the bargain?"

I nodded to the large brown envelope containing the incriminating documents. "I gave them to your wife soon after you left but you can take charge of them now."

Steven pounced, quickly checked the contents of the envelope and then said accusingly, "How do I know that you haven't got copies or if there's still stuff on the computer."

"You don't - you'll just have to trust me."

"How can I trust you?"

"I give you my word," I said with open-faced sincerity. I have in fact broken my word many times in the past - it remained to be seen whether I would finish up making myself feel bad again.

Debbie soon appeared and the couple embraced again. When he left her it was she who had clung to him but now the situation was reversed. The next day at work relations between Steven and me were fraught, with him both sullen and resentful. This rather upset me because I had deliberately refrained from taunting him about his wife. We spoke neither about Debbie or the misappropriated cash - in fact we barely exchanged a word that was not strictly necessary.

The rest of the week continued to be strained. Despite his non-compliant attitude, I had undertaken to sort of Steven's mess but covering up an £80,000 deficit in a slack quarter was not going to be easy and I was not quite sure how to go about it. To be honest my mind was more concentrated on Debbie. I wanted that girl again. As a last resort I could use copies of the documents I gave to Steven for more blackmail but was loath to do that if I could possibly help it. One alternative was to have a secret affair with his wife, (I was pretty sure that she would be willing) but half the pleasure of poking Debbie was to have Steven know that I was doing it.

That Sunday I went in early to work very early, ready to do whatever was needed. I had always bent the system to my own financial benefit by altering existing records but this was going to take something far more drastic. Now there is an underlying sub system giving access to the nuts and bolts of the database and I was the only person in the office who knew the required authorisation code. My plan was to indulge in some imaginative creation and deletion of records. I logged, in careful to use a false ID, typed in the authorisation and ran a quick status check. The database was corrupt. Someone had been in there before me attempting to do what I had intended but going about it in a very ham fisted way. The culprit was not hard to find because Steven's ID was plastered over every maimed record, in the digital equivalent of a fingerprint.