The Best Game

Janey was taking a break from her shopping when she first saw him. He was tall, dark and handsome, of course, why else would she have noticed? She was sitting at a sidewalk table of the local cafe, deciding where next to spend Arnold's hard earned cash when he sat at the next table, perfect jeans moulded to his perfect arse, eyes tantalisingly hidden behind dark glasses, oozing confidence.

It didn't take long for him to notice her. Hell, she knew she still had it. She hadn't let herself go like so many did after they caught a man. She liked to tease the ones that had missed getting her, so she kept herself trim, dressed for effect and made sure her assets were on show. And Arnold loved that he had a damn fine looking woman on his arm when they went somewhere.

Pity Arnold didn't have the same attitude to his own physique. He'd gotten more than pudgy over the years and let his dress sense slide too. Janey loved her man, without question, but sometimes it was a real effort to get excited about bed games with him. A little harmless fantasy didn't go astray, and this fellow cafe patron was ideal for a leading role in her next one.

So she studied him extensively from behind her own dark glasses, sipping her coffee as she memorised every visible inch of the man before her.

Suddenly he turned straight to her, removing the glasses and smiling at her, a smile to make her melt. "Excuse me, miss, but you look lonely there. May I join you?" His voice was deep, mesmerising, sexy.

Afterwards, she would never be able to explain why she had said yes. Or what she had talked to him about for an hour or why she had followed him to his car -- a red convertible, of course. It suited him perfectly. It was flashy, luxurious, sexy.

Nor could she explain why she had willingly, no, more than that -- eagerly allowed him access to those places only her husband should know. But she could tell you it was the best sex she had ever had.

He had driven to a quiet, remote picnic area, taken a rug from the back seat, laying it on the ground before removing her dress and bra, locking his mouth over hers, forcing his knee between her thighs, pushing her down on her back. Almost magically he had lost his clothes, the shirt and jeans appearing neatly on top of her dress, without him breaking contact with her mouth. His hands were rubbing her through her knickers, sliding across the sodden material before dragging them off and shoving his thick cock into her aching wet pussy, filling her, stretching her, fucking her far deeper than Arnold could. She moaned and cried, raking her fingernails across his back as he thrust hard into her before withdrawing totally, leaving her empty, yearning for the feel of his cock inside her.

He grabbed her ankles, putting them over his shoulders and held her down, his hands pushing her shoulders into the rug and then slammed his cock back into her as deep as he could go. She tried to buck under him, but he held her still, driving her wild as he plundered her, bringing her to a climax so strong she screamed, the world going blank as she thrashed under him.

Abruptly he pulled out of her, his balls tight, his cock pulsing as it spurted across her belly and onto her face. Then he stood and began dressing.

Amazed, confused, utterly spent, Janey lay on the rug, absentmindedly wiping the cum from her face and rubbing it into her tits and belly. She didn't notice as he took photos, she was busy remembering the look and feel of his rock hard cock, knowing she'd never see the like of it again.

On his command, she rose and got dressed. He kept her panties, driving her back to the cafe and leaving without another word. She didn't even know his name.

***

Amanda's attention was drawn to the car, watching as it parked across the street from the coffee house. It was a sexy little red number, probably held a balding Lothario trying to regain his lost youth with an expensive toy, but the car was nice.

She continued watching as the driver climbed out. Nope, not balding, not old either. The clothes were expensive, like the car, and tailored perfectly, showing off a well developed back and cute arse. When he turned to cross the road, Amanda was far from disappointed with the front view either.

Absentmindedly twisting her wedding ring, she daydreamed: that body in her bed, those hips rising and falling as he drove into her -- of course he was well hung. What was the point of a dream, if it wasn't perfect? She watched him cross the road, willing him to come into the coffee house.

She was more than happy when he did; and ecstatic when he sat at the table next to hers.

***

They were all the same, he thought as he flicked through the glossy prints before sorting them into ten separate envelopes with names and addresses neatly written across the front. Bored wives were such easy pickings. Hang around any trendy coffee lounge or cafe and they were like moths to a candle, almost begging to get burned. Just look for the well maintained and tastefully dressed figure below a face with tired and slightly sad eyes.

Sit nearby - you could feel their eyes on you -- make sure you showed off your own assets. Then dazzle them with a bit of flattery, get them chatting. Throw in the odd pointed question to find out what you needed; pour on a bit of charm. They were like putty in his hands.

Take them somewhere quiet and anonymous; give them a good hard fuck and put them back where you found them. And move on when fresh pickings got slim.

The art was in not hanging around long enough for them to recover. He'd made that mistake only once.

Rachel had been a great fuck and he'd gone back, several times. She'd gotten attached and then her husband caught them. Christ, he'd only survived that one by inches. Good thing it was a bungalow -- but he didn't recommend jumping out of windows with your pants around your ankles.

Since then he'd had a rule: hump 'em and dump 'em. He never went near their homes, never got tangled in their lives. And he always took pictures, just in case they ever somehow found him. He just threatened to tell the husbands; that always kept them quiet.

Yeah, loving wives. There was nothing better.