Naughty Naughty Housewife (Erotic Short-Story)

  Naughty, Naughty Housewife

  By

  Jay Merson

  Copyright. Jay Merson 2002

  The right of Jay Merson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted under the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Illegal copying or distribution of this title in any form or by any means is strictly prohibited All characters in this story are aged eighteen years and over.

  Jay Merson has written over 100 similar stories, novellas and full-length novels, some of which are available on Kindle to browse them click http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=Jay+Merson&x=15&y=20

  Chapter 1

  Gordon swung the car into the driveway and drew to a halt close the front door of his house. It had been an absolute pig of a day and pissed off he was to say the very least, the traffic on the way home had been hell, and to top it all, it was beginning to rain. He sat there, with both his hands gripping the steering wheel, taking a moment or two to rest his weary brain before going through the charade, the false and insincere daily bloody ceremony of greeting his wife.

  "Hello dear, had a hard day?" she would say with boring monotony that never varied for even one day of the bloody week - weekends included.

  "No, fucking awful actually," he replied to himself in his own voice. Saying what he would really like to but didn't have the balls to come out with in reality.

  "That's good dear," he mimicked her voice sarcastically, shaking his head side-to-side as she always did. She never listened anyway, just rambled on regardless of whatever he replied.

  ‘It is fucking good,’ he thought, ‘Because I am doing nothing tonight but putting my feet up and having a brandy or two, and if you don't like it woman - then tough shit!’

  "Yes Gordon," he whined in a high-pitched voice that mocked her own and then he poked his tongue out childishly.

  He punched the dashboard in anger. Christ! Why did she have to be so prim and proper all the bloody time? Why couldn't she smoke, drink or even fart sometimes or things that normal women do like get angry or…be sexy even? He sighed heavily, grabbed his briefcase and got out of the car.

  His mood darkened further still as he saw the note pinned to the door and his shoulders slumped in defeat.

  "Gone out," he whined in her prattling voice, guessing at what the note would read. "You will have to get your own dinner, Gordon."

  He fumbled for his front door key; it was all he needed tonight, to have to make his own bloody dinner on top of all else. And he wished to hell she would call him Gord, or Ron or…anything but the condescending and irritating way she said his full name.

  He halted, his key poised at the lock but the door was already ajar. His defences roused he listened for sounds of intruders but reasoned that the silly bitch had gone out in a rush, with coffee evenings on her mind, and had forgotten to close the front door behind her. His pause though drew his attention to the note and he read it anyway despite thinking he already knew the content.

  'Are you in the mood this evening?' the note read. It was her handwriting sure enough. 'If so, push the door open and go to the bottom of the stairs.'

  He felt his cock stir to life and a surge of thrill pump through it. His anus gripped and his throat felt dry. Never did she or had she, made the first move in sex, treating the act as an unpleasant necessity, a part of marriage to be endured and nothing more. He felt excited simply by reading her words - if of course she meant them.

  He peered around the door, his heart beginning to pump faster as all seemed still and silent. He dropped his briefcase on the floor, slipped off his jacket and hung it up on the rack before walking quickly to the foot of the stairs.

  A second note was pinned there, stuck to the banister rail with a small square of sticking tape. He opened it and read.

  'Slip your shirt and tie off, Gordon, I am waiting for you.'

  He sighed heavily, a flush came to his cheeks and his cock stiffened more so to a semi-erection that pressed against the insides of his trousers. Gordon undid his tie and ripped it from his neck and then fumbled his fingers in his haste to undo his shirt. Pulling it from the waistband of his trousers and slipping it from his shoulders he threw the shirt aside as he began walking up the long staircase.

  His cock reared again, now a throbbing hard erection that had been absent in his life for some time now, his throat and lips were parched and his level of excitement rising rapidly. The next note, a little higher up the banister he reached his arm out for even before he got to it. He ripped the note open hurriedly and gasped at what he read.

  'My nipples are hard, Gordon. Do you like my nipples? Trousers now, take off your shoes, socks and trousers.'

  Never, ever could he recall such talk from her, his heart pounded now in his chest as he slipped his shoes off, yanked at his socks and pulled his trousers down, great urgency now pumping in him. He took the remaining steps two at a time, puffing and panting heavily with both effort and excitement as he reached the top landing and stood before their bedroom door.

  The note stuck to the door he could read without opening it.

  'Now your pants, Gordon, I want you fully naked, with your lovely cock hard and ready for me.'

  He gave a little whimper of delight and felt his arsehole grip in excited spasm. Gordon pulled down his shorts, stepped out of them and kicked them aside as he gripped the door handle and went in. His heart fell, she wasn't to be seen, he had visualised her naked and laid back on the bed with her knees up and her thighs parted in readiness for him but, the bedroom was as it always was - but minus his wife.

  His heart lifted and his cock jerked as he heard her call through from the en-suite bathroom, her voice sweeter and softer, sexier and huskier even, than he could ever remember.

  "Go to the chair, slip the blindfold over your eyes and sit down. If you look, just once, the surprise will be ruined and I will go off the boil."

  Gordon sat on the dining chair that was positioned to the side of the bed and slipped the blindfold over his eyes. He rested his hands on his lap and waited patiently if excitedly and with his cock twitching in pulsing excitement.

  He could hear her moving up behind him and shuddered as he felt a feather-light kiss on the nape of his neck and gave a low groan as the heady scent of her perfume filled his nostrils.

  "I'm going to tie you, Gordon," she breathed huskily. "Tie you up and tease you. Would you like that?"

  He tried to speak but no words would come, he nodded his head rapidly and gave a low whimper of delight as a second fleeing kiss of her soft lips touched tantalisingly at the side of his neck.

  Rope looped around his wrist and was knotted securely, his arm pulled back behind him and tied to the back of the chair. He sat silently, taking in the heavy scent of her, listening to the rustling of her clothing as his other wrist was similarly tied and secured across his other behind his back. As his ankles were lashed to the front legs of the chair in turn he uttered a cry as she yanked the cords painfully tight but bit his lip so as not to ruin the coming session.

  He was bound and helpless, naked and tied to the chair and his sense of sight deprived to him. It was a most thrilling of sensations and to know that his wife, the normally upright and proper wife he knew, was playing sex games with him heightened his sense of thrill manifold. Gordon drew breath as something brushed lightly and fleetingly over the end of his cock to make it twitch repeatedly in delighted spasms, and then it was gone.

  "Stockings, Gordon," she teased, "Could that have been my stocking perhaps?"

  He gave a low groan, visions of her in suspenders and black stockings came to him, of the p ale flesh above the darker tops and…"

  "I am going to remove the blindfold now," she said in a low and sultry tone. "Keep your eyes closed tightly and don't open them until I say - otherwise?" Her voice tailed off with the implied threat and then he felt the blindfold being taken from his head.

  "Not yet," she cautioned her voice now a little more distant from him.

  His cock was twitching now, in involuntary gripping spasms that jerked it and wobbled it as it stuck up from his lap.

  "Please, Jennifer," he whined.

  He heard her giggle impishly.

  "Okay," she said. "Open your eyes."

  He did and sat in stunned silence looking at his wife, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide in total and utter disbelief.

  She was thirty-two years old but now looked just eighteen, a wonderful and incredibly sexy young woman and no longer the dowdy wife he had become so accustomed to knowing and living with. This was a teasing little bitch, painted up and dressed to thrill, made up to gain attention and to flaunt herself and her body to attract males, one that no man could or would resist.

  Her blonde hair had been styled to fall nearly to her shoulders and so that it clung to the sides of her head, with a deep fringe that framed her pretty face as a mask of pure sexual alluring and cock-jerking teasing. Her eyes had been made up, with heavy black mascara and blue eye shadow, and her lips glossed with scarlet lipstick to present her full and sensual mouth as the focal point of her face, like a pouting cunt turned sideways it simply invited a cock to enter it.

  Around her throat a narrow velvet choker, studded with glittering beads of clear glass, separated her head from her body as a most appealing demarcation line. It contrasted wonderfully with the pale flesh of her upper chest and throat, standing out most beautifully against the pure white of her blouse. The blouse was tight, incredibly so, it hugged her slim waist like a second skin, tapering up to hug under the thrust of her neat breasts and to pull harshly over the swelling mounds to display her bust in full glory. At the neck it was opened several buttons down, to the join of her bra, tartily so and yet so very tantalisingly at the same time. The two halves of the blouse were parted sufficiently to show the swell of her creamy soft breasts and the deep firm cleavage created between them as her orbs were pushed up and together by the little lacy, black bra she wore.

  Below her waist the little tartan mini-kilt, a white background with red and thin blue check printed on it, hung from her narrow hips superbly and clung in all the right places, even hinting at the bump of her pussy mound at the front. The hem of the kilt was so short as to border on the indecent, even when she was standing it only just retained her modesty with the hem stopping only inches short of her crotch. Sheer black stocking, hold-ups, and pulled high up her thighs, showed her slender thighs and long legs to absolute perfection, a sight that no man could possibly resist. Her calves and again her thighs were shaped and sculptured by the high heels she wore, polished black shoes that hinted at wicked intent. She looked then, radiantly attractive, so naughtily sexy and - so absolutely fuckable.

  Jenny stood beaming her delight at him; her eyes sparkling sexual devilment and mischief at his shocked reaction to her transformation and the way his cock was quivering in desperate need for contact with her. Her nostrils flared and her breathing became rapid, displaying the high level of pumping sexual thrill surging through her.

  "Like it?" she asked pouting and twirled around rapidly to allow her kilt to billow out and to give glimpse of her tiny white panties beneath.

  She faced him again, smiling broadly at his obvious interest and excitement at what he saw. She also noted a hint of jealousy in him, just as she had suspected, Gordon didn't like the thought of her being admired by other men.

  "Sexy don't you think?" she purred and ran her tongue sensually around her red lips to accentuate both her inviting mouth and her apparent willingness to use it for sex. "Other men certainly think so."

  He looked up at her face questioningly, hurt and uncertainty showing in his expression.

  "Yes, Gordon," she breathed huskily, "Other men have seen me like this."

  He shook his head slowly side-to-side, his eyes never leaving her face and searching for signs of untruth in her.

  "No, not really," he said hopefully and then stated, "You wouldn't…you wouldn't dare."

  "Yes," she corrected sternly, "Yes, Gordon. I go shopping like this, to the supermarket and to the shopping mall." Her voice had risen in pitch and excitement, her sense of thrill and taunting now spilling delightedly out from her. "I dress up like this, like a common tart and display myself for other men."

  He gave a whimper that displayed his excitement at the thought but also showed his anger with the very suggestion.

  Jenny's voice dropped to a low and slow purr filled with rasping sexual arousal.

  "Men ogle me, Gordon," she breathed excitedly, "They leer and drool, look at my breasts and at my legs, they try to look up my skirt as I climb the stairs or escalators and," she paused to suck in air, "I go up the stairs an awful lot when I go shopping, Gordon."

  "Bitch," he muttered as her sincerity showed through to put real doubt in his mind.

  She took a pace forward and then halted, one hand covering her pussy mound and she cupped it through her little skirt, her hand gripping and fingers stroking.

  "I am a bitch," she agreed, "A dirty, teasing bitch that offers herself to be ogled and…" she gasped for effect,"… It gives me wonderful feelings in my pussy to do so."

  He shook his head, his gaze fixed on her hand as it worked to slowly massage her pussy through her clothing.

  "I don't believe you," he said in an effort to convince himself but actually felt even more unsure. "It isn't you; it's not in your nature to act so. Whatever has come over you? You have never talked so, dressed like this or touched your pussy like that for me."

  "Sex," she said flatly and without hesitation, "Wonderful sexy feelings and the thrill of showing myself off to men. Men that want me Gordon, men that long to get into my knickers, men that want to touch and feel my body and to get their cocks stiff for me."

  "You rotten bitch!" he blurted as he began to half-believe that she was serious.

  Her hands came up over her body, following the contours of her waist, sliding up over the points of her breasts to cover one of her orbs with each of her hands, the read painted-fingernails glowing brightly against the white of her blouse. She began to knead and squeeze her breasts, giving little gasps of pleasure as she did so, her delicate fingers spread to cup her swelling orbs fully.

  "It thrills me, Gordon," she panted excitedly, "My nipples firm to rock hard when at the market I lean over the fruit and veg stall to give the men there a good look down at my cleavage."

  He shook his head slowly in denial.

  "Yes," she said in a low and throaty voice, "I purposely take my time, leaning forward like this…"

  She leaned toward him, her hands reaching out as though she were handling an imaginary something, the neck of her blouse dropped forward to give clear view of the shape of her neat little tits.

  "…They look, Gordon, the men leer and drool, nudging one another as they look at my tits."

  "No," he croaked but his cock gave an involuntary jerk. "I don't believe you."

  "And when I handle the cucumbers or bananas…Well, Their eyes positively pop out of their heads."

  Gordon tried a chuckle but it wasn't meant, more a forced laugh to express his incredulity.

  She straightened and turned, leaned over the dressing table so that the back of her little kilt rose high up the backs of her thighs and to show the base of her buttocks and the seat of her little panties. She pushed her backside out and toward him, posing there with her legs braced in blatant teasing.

  "At the other market stalls I do this, Gordon, I bend over to show my knickers off to all that are looking and," she paused to draw breath, "my watchers are many and so very keen to look."

  She turned beaming a grin, pleased that his expression was now one of thunderous anger and wild jealousy.

  "I squat too," she said and did so, parting her knees wide to show fully the tight white triangle of her panties between her thighs and the firm mound of her thinly veiled pussy. "My pussy gets so wet when I do this and my clitoris throbs with a dull ache for a cock up inside me."

  "Don't say those words," he said firmly. "You never used them before and…"

  "Fuck!" she said loudly in defiance and added, "Prick, arseholes, balls and spunk."

  He was stunned by her frank and easy use of the words that seemed to roll off her tongue with an unnerving natural ease.

  She fell silent, delighting in the way his face was flushed and that he was visibly trying to control his anger.

  "Untie me," he demanded loudly. "This has gone far enough. Let me free and stop this silliness."

  Jenny was unbuttoning her blouse, slowly and button by button, her fingers dancing so sexily in tantalising movement.

  "I've done this too," she purred sexily. "I've undone my blouse in front of another man, Gordon."

  He sat fuming but with his gaze fixed firmly on the cleft of her tits as the two sides of the blouse pulled apart to show her little black bra straining to contain her swelling breasts. They looked more appealing than ever, nicer, firmer, more rounded and certainly more lickable and kissable.

  "Where?" he sneered in disbelief, "And just where would you do such a thing eh?"

  She gave a mischievous giggle.

  "In the department store, in the clothes department, in the changing cubicles…" She gave a little sigh, "The changing cubicles with the curtains that I never seem quite able to close fully."

  His jaw dropped and his mouth hung open.

  "The men waiting for their wives and girlfriends, Gordon, they watch me." The excitement and enthusiasm with which she spoke rose higher and higher as she related her actions, sincere and meaningful words full of sexual arousal. "They peek and ogle, secretively and I in turn watch them, the bulges in their trousers as their lovely cocks get hard for me."