WickedWednesday: Revenge is a dish …

Howard nervously waited; he had knocked three times on the scarlet front door of the upmarket property; his ex-colleague and best friend had summoned him, but he didn’t know exactly why; it was “urgent” but he had to have dinner ready before his wife returned home. He counted to ten in his head and sighed, before knocking again. What was going on?

“I’m sorry,” the female voice cried as the door opened and the twenty-something lady looked at the man standing on her doorstep. “Come in,” she beckoned as half-a-dozen men filed past in the other direction. She thanked each of them in turn, kissing them on the lips as they left with wide grins. “Sent by someone, you’ll be the last one!”

His eyes widened; the black-haired cheery woman was clearly only wearing her black high heels and an apron as he stared at her bare ass. “Sorry, am I at the right house? Martin sent me.”

“Ahh Martin,” she cooed as she smiled. “Needed a lot of help did Martin. Will you need some help?” She opened the door to her kitchen and reached for his coat, sliding it onto the back of a chair. A large bowl of white goo was in the centre of her dining table and she flashed her innocent smile at the anxious man, glancing around her luxurious kitchen.

“Martin said it was an emergency.”

“It is, my husband will be home in two hours,” she replied and adjusted her bosom in the apron. “And I need it ready for then. If you could just add your contribution and then we’ll be ready to start.” She pointed to the bowl and then to the bemused gentleman. “I need you to wank for me.” Howard’s heart skipped a beat; had he misheard? She cocked her head. “My husband has been banging his secretary,” she spat, her bright demeanour evaporating in an instant.

“Oh I’m not …”

“I’ve been offering help to anyone who needs it,” she added, seductively readjusting her apron to display her assets and smirking devilishly. Her hands slid down the body of the unconvinced man and she looked into his eyes as she unbuckled his trousers. “Just a little squirt for me,” she teased, licking her lips and freeing his cock from his cotton underpants. “I have great technique.”

He gasped and mewed, surprised at her brazen fondling but felt unable to stop her. He couldn’t move; he tried, but his muscles wouldn’t work. He gulped as she reached for a small tube of lubricant, concealed within the pouch of her apron and groaned as her slippery fingers gripped the tip of his cock; it felt lovely and warm, sensual and taboo. He wondered what his wife would say if she knew: she would probably disown and divorce him, but the touch of the spurned wife was too good for his resolve to stop her.

She ran her fingers slowly up and down his shaft, tightening her grip as his took snatched breaths; she stared lustfully into his eyes, smiling mischievously. “That’s nice,” he puffed.

She giggled, her left hand slid underneath his cock to gently massage his testicles; he flinched and panted as her fingers danced sensually over his balls. “Is it?” She whispered alluringly and pressed on his perineum. He clenched the table with his hands, breathing deeply and mewling with every exhalation.

“Oh yeah, I’m …” He gulped, as the young lady grabbed hold of the clear bowl with one hand and pumped his cock with her other. He swore, profaning as the young lady’s expert touch took him to the edge of his orgasm.

He rhythmically bucked his hips; it had been four long weeks since his wife had touched him and his dam of frustration was cracking. Desperation oozed from his pores as he fucked her lubed fist to his sensational climax, holding his breath as several spurts of cum landed on the side of the bowl. She grinned, milking his shaft for the last remnants of his cum and released her grip, striding over to the sink to wash her hands.

Howard breathed deeply, trying hard not to think guilty thoughts, but not succeeding. “Ummm … thanks,” he muttered.

“Thank you,” she teased and glanced at the bowl. “I am going to make my husband’s favourite pudding for him – panna cotta – only with very special cream and milk.” Howard said nothing and fidgeted awkwardly; what was he supposed to do? “And a photo of him with that slut that my friend took.” She pulled out a picture of her husband receiving pleasure from a naked young woman, and put it on the table in front of him as she picked up the bowl of cum to pour into a saucepan.

Howard glanced at the picture and then scowled as he picked it up to focus on it. “That’s my wife,” he cried and looked up at the vengeful woman. “I’d recognise that birthmark on her thigh anywhere!”

“She’s cheating on you.”

“Little slut. Looks like she’s giving him a wank. That’s out of order. You can’t get a handjob from someone else when you’re married.” He gripped the table again, a tear rolling down his cheek as he stared at the back of his naked wife on the photograph.

The woman smiled. “Fancy taking home a fresh panna cotta for her dessert then?” She asked with a wicked smile. “Ideal thing to eat just before you give her divorce papers.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “There’s no excuse for doing that to him. I want her out.”

He ran his hands through his hair and put his cock back in his trousers, wonderfully ignorant to his hypocrisy.

Wicked Wednesday

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