Madeleine Strays: A Wife-Watching Romance (4 page)

“Mmm-hmm…” she liked that idea.

“You’d be in some seedy hotel room—or perhaps across the street in his apartment,” he said. His jealousy rose right along with the thrill there. His words spurred Madeleine on. “Maybe kissing him, or tasting that big, hard cock of his…”

She broke off from him, lifted up her head, fire in her eyes. Hand still locked around his shaft, squeezing him fiercely, she knelt forward to kiss his mouth. Feeling the soft sweetness of her lips as his nose lodged against hers, he felt her tongue penetrate him, and tasted the gentle saltiness he knew was his own cock.

God, would he really be able to kiss her mouth after she’d been with another man? Risking tasting his cock?

A shiver ran down his spine, but there was something darkly attractive about the idea. Tasting her like this would be proof beyond doubt of her transgression—proof that she was indeed insatiable, as he’d always wanted.

She slipped aside her panties and plunging down on his rigid column, making him gasp from the sudden intense heat gripping him.

“Oh that really got you going, huh?” he grinned. “The thought of going on a date with Connor?”

She smiled, but did not answer. Just placed her hands on his shoulders and rode him, as though she were on a stallion galloping down a beach, wild and bareback. Hugo went with her, in awe at her magnificence, her sexy black thigh-high hold-ups adding a touch of the unreal to this glorious union between them.

He managed to hold himself, somehow, until her climax was building. Then she was shaking over him, pressing down against his body as the wave of energy washed over her, her tight pussy spasming around his hardness, milking him, so that even if he’d wanted to keep himself from coming, he would have been entirely unable.

It had been such a strange night, the nerves and the tension melting away as they fucked so hard, so desperately.

“Oh God, that was intense,” she said, breathless as they lay back afterwards, and he got the impression she didn’t just mean the final lovemaking.

It had been an intense evening, despite the disappointing date.

What particularly pleased him was that when he finally awoke, and it was Sunday at noon, he came out into the living room to find Madeleine sitting at their little dining table, tapping away on her laptop—and on the screen was that familiar white and pink website where she might find someone for her second online date.

Five

After that first date, she seemed to take things more slowly, more cautiously. She chatted online with guys, or else she emailed them, but jumped to no conclusions about any of them being that special someone.

A few times through December, she told Hugo she was meeting someone for lunch, which seemed like a safe starting point. It always made him feel a flutter of hope, though he knew nothing much would happen over lunch itself, even if she clicked with her lunch date. But nothing came of her lunch meetings—she came back with a shrug or a sigh, seemingly happy to have done it, though uninspired by what had transpired.

“It’s like some weird kind of job interview,” she said once. “Only the potential job on offer is to sleep with me.”

“Isn’t that basically what any date is like?” Hugo had replied, thinking to himself how frustrating it must be to be one of her lunch dates, and have her sitting right there, potentially available for seriously hot sex, only to have the opportunity vetoed at the end of the lunch. Seeing her dressed in hot skin-tight jeans and a pink-and-white striped sweater that really highlighted her feminine curves, giving her a soft sex-kitten look, Hugo felt real pity for those men who did not meet Madeleine’s standards.

“But usually when you’re dating someone you met in the real world, you know you’re vaguely interested in them, and you kind of know you’re going to have at least a few dates to see what happens,” she said. “But with this it feels as though they only have lunch to impress me, to win me. So they just pitch to me as though they’re salesmen.”

“So maybe offer them more than just a lunch date to prove themselves?”

She’d laughed at that. “I guess. Haven’t really found anyone yet to make me want to offer more than a lunch date, though.”

Hugo was endlessly patient as she spent all that time through into January corresponding with various men through the website, carefully narrowing her list of options, dispensing with any who gave her even a hint of turning into a disappointment, inviting a few out for coffee or a sandwich.

Even if the process seemed long and slow, it was still exciting to both Hugo and Madeleine. Whenever she was at home in the evening, rather than out with Lucy or her bookstore buddies, or working the late shift, she spent time at her laptop dealing with the emails from her current shortlist, or from new prospects. Then they’d take it into the bedroom to defuse any tensions arising.

The lunch dates provided an added frisson, an added note of possibility, even though Hugo quickly came to see them as harmless in themselves.

Hugo didn’t rush her, he didn’t worry that it was taking her so long. He was supremely happy she was doing this at all, and wanted her to feel fully supported and confident in what she was pursuing. He respected and appreciated the care she was taking in this, demonstrating how precious she perceived his gift of sexual freedom.

As though rewarding him for his patience, Madeleine made love to him more frequently than ever. He was staggered each time just how wet she was—this process was a serious turn-on for her, as well.

When he finally came home one Friday night to find her sitting at the table with her laptop closed, and the first thing she said was that she’d agreed to a full dinner date with one of her shortlisted men, Hugo almost felt disappointment that their search for her next date was finally over.

“Is it Will?” he asked her, naming one of the stronger candidates among her list of five serious contenders she had been chatting with for a while.

Standing now, though not really approaching him, she nodded silently.

“That’s great, honey!” he said, trying to appear relaxed, bright, supportive, though the butterflies were doing their best to support the chaos theory inside his stomach. “When’s the special day?”

Her eyes locked on him, but for a moment she said nothing, as though she was preparing herself for an angry reaction.

Then she said quietly, “Tomorrow night.”

It did make his heart miss a few beats, he had to admit as sheer terror gripped him, though he managed to downplay his reaction, and offer her up a warm smile. God, it didn’t help that she looked unbelievably gorgeous, her hair still wet from a post-gym shower, her full breasts barely contained by a bra-less pale pink cotton camisole that plunged so low in the front it almost left her hard nipples uncovered, while below her waist she wore only a pair of skin-tight white leggings.

“Fantastic,” he said, and loved that her face instantly brightened. “Where are you taking him?”

“He’s picking me up after work,” she said, her sudden cheery tone feeling like daggers in Hugo’s chest, though he was happy for her as well.

He wasn’t so keen that he wouldn’t get to see her before her date.

She draped herself over him and kissed him, and in two blinks of an eye they were all over each other, hands holding each other’s heads so they could suck on lips and tongue with intense vigor, the passion running white-hot between them as though they needed to prove their bond for each other.

Hugo felt her pressing her body against him, feeling his swollen hardness through their clothing, moaning as she rubbed herself on it, confirming how turned on he was by the news of her date.

But as he slipped her breasts out to begin teasing her straining nipples, Madeleine stopped him.

Breathless, she said, “No, we shouldn’t. I need to save myself for my date.”

Hugo nodded, though he felt more than a little put out.

“You can wait, can’t you?” she asked him. “It’s just… I feel pretty nervous now, I’m not sure if I’m in the right mood for…”

He smiled. “You’re saving yourself for him,” he said. “I think that’s kinda sexy.”

He could stand to wait a night—the suspense was exquisite to him, the tension adding to his enjoyment of the whole deal.

There was hugging, there was kissing as they passed the rest of the evening together. Madeleine even found excuses to keep brushing her hand over his crotch to feel how surprisingly hard he was almost all evening. But that was as far as it went.

What wrecked Hugo’s sleep that night was when he opened the bathroom cabinet to get the toothpaste, only to find next to her birth control a little CVS paper bag containing a shockingly huge box of condoms.

Oh Jesus.

He nearly came on the spot.

Six

He knew little about Will—though they’d discussed so many things regarding Madeleine’s search for a date, as soon as she’d decided to place a man on her shortlist, she had stopped talking much about him to Hugo, other than the odd tidbit from their email flirtation.

In fact, over the days and weeks she’d spoken more about two other guys from her shortlist—one called Barnaby, and one named Jonathan—as she’d found them both intensely attractive but also frustrating.

Will had been the safe choice, which is why he was the most obvious for her date, but now that she’d confirmed it, Hugo could hardly remember any details about the guy. He was a schoolteacher from Brooklyn, he thought, and clearly fit with Madeleine’s apparent ideal of a relatively athletic guy with dark hair and a handsome face. Not much like Hugo’s appearance, but her need for clear difference was interesting.

He actually awoke relatively early for a Saturday—since Madeleine was buzzing around getting ready for work.

The thing was, she wasn’t just getting ready for work. She was holding up tiny little dresses in front of the mirror, wearing only the little pair of white panties she’d slept in, which didn’t help Hugo to keep his morning glory down.

Seeing him awake, she said, “Oh good, you can help. Which one do you think? This one…or this one?”

She showed him two equally daring dresses up against her body, still on hangers. She’d look incredible in either of them, he knew—these were not the type of things that old Madeleine from Boston would have ever been caught dead wearing.

Knowing she wasn’t after flattery but a straightforward decision, since she couldn’t make one herself, he picked the little charcoal dress that looked to be made of thinner material.

“You’re going to wear this to work?” he teased her.

“No—I did tell you Will’s picking me up straight after my shift, didn’t I?”

Of course he knew that, but he hadn’t really put two and two together to realize she would have to effectively prepare for her date prior to the start of her Saturday shift at the bookstore.

“You’ll be able to change at the store?”

“It has a bathroom, you know.”

Lying there in bed, he actually enjoyed watching her preparing herself for a liaison with another man. There was something so immensely wrong about it, yet it was quite a thrill. And asking him his opinion on a dress was not to be his only participation.

“Here,” she said, handing him a sleek white plastic object that looked like part of an electric toothbrush.

“What’s this?” he said, feeling a little clueless.

Then he caught sight of the end of the device, and it was clear this was some kind of electric razor. Hugo caught his breath for the umpteenth time.

“Well, I guess girls are doing it this way nowadays,” Madeleine was blushing gently as he took the shaver from her. “I mean, we’ve seen them across the street, right?”

“You want me to...” he prompted her, feeling a hot flush of shock and uncertainty mixed with more than a little arousal.

She gave a shy smile as she climbed onto the bed beside him. “Well, I guess I never did it for you, but...”

The irony was not lost on Hugo that she’d never done this for her husband, but now she was set to play with another man, she was going to change herself for him. There was another little ripple of jealousy inside him, but Hugo felt a curious arousal, his loins tingling at the prospect of seeing this different side of Madeleine, a sexy side, wanton with a smooth shaven pussy.

Madeleine made herself comfortable on the bed, allowing Hugo space to kneel in front of her.

As he switched on the shaver, which buzzed noisily, his gaze locked with hers, and he caught a look of nerves and excitement in her eyes—as though this wasn’t merely about changing the age-old look of her pubic region, it was about making a commitment to the idea of offering herself up to another man.

Hugo had to shift slightly to ensure he was comfortable, the way his hardness now crowded his boxers.

“Okay?” he asked her softly, and she gave a little nod.

“Be careful,” she said, and it felt as though under the surface, she was asking him if this was really okay, if he was happy to do this, to prepare her in this way for another man.

“I will,” he said.

He placed the vibrating blade end of the shaver gently down to the edge of Madeleine’s pubic hair, and then the buzzing noise changed pitch as he drew it into her thatch to begin shaving. The little space-age gizmo was surprisingly effective, so much so that it almost felt to him as though he was merely washing her mound, rather than cutting away the silky fuzz.

He shaved down to her pussy lips very gently, his fingers carefully stretching her soft skin this way or that to ensure a close shave. Initially, he left her a small landing strip of hair, giving her that last veto in case she wanted some remnant of her past self to stay.

But as he looked up at her, seeing that she was watching his every move, she gave a sharp little nod of the head, and off came that last patch of down.

Jesus.

He worked to remove as much of the traces of her hair as possible with that little gadget, his fingers trailing all over her sensitive folds to facilitate it. He noticed the way her lips began to glisten, the moisture emerging to show that this experience was turning Madeleine on as well as her husband.

At first, he tried to resist the temptation, and focus diligently on his task at hand, but as he began to detect the scent of her arousal, and with the strangeness of her completely bare mound so startling before him, it was increasingly difficult to act like a professional beautician.

He leaned forward and planted a soft little kiss just beside her pussy, breathing in that darkly wonderful aroma of her sex.

Madeleine let out a soft moan.

He ran his fingers along her tender folds, tracing the moisture and confirming just how wet she was getting from this unusual process of having her husband shave her pussy.

Then he ran his tongue along her slit, slowly, coursing through her sensitive flesh to soak up the tart flavor of her juices and draw out a long, exhilarating groan from the freshly shaven blonde.

She was so beautiful. He wanted to worship her. He wanted all men to worship her.

In that moment, jealousy suddenly seemed like an emotion that he was done with, over. He wanted others to come and bow down before this goddess, and pleasure her as she deserved.

Hugo began kissing around the strange new topography of her pussy and mound, but she stopped him.

“We’re not done yet,” she said.

There were a few stray hairs here and there, and perhaps a hint of stubble he’d missed. It was clear as she led him to the bathroom that Madeleine wanted to be perfect for her prospective new lover.

She had him strip off and join her under the wonderful warmth of the shower, had him soaping her up, rinsing her down, running his hands all over her slippery skin. And she had him take the razor to make doubly sure she was perfectly smooth down there, between her thighs.

She showed him how to do it, though he couldn’t remember her doing it even during their dating days. She’d always been tidy down there, but not shaven. Had she shaved for guys before him?

“Is it strange?” she asked him. “Doing all this, and it’s not for you?”

All he had to do was show her how hard he was, and she simply grinned, loving the affect she was having on him.

“If it means you’ll actually have a good time tonight, I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s kind of hot that you want to do this for your date, but you never did it for me.”

She wrinkled her brow. “Hot? How?”

He ran his tongue along the length of her bare pussy, unable to resist. She moaned in response, but he looked up and she clearly wanted an answer.

“Because it proves you’re trying new things, I guess,” he said. “And it suggests you really do intend to go through with it this time.”

He shivered, and she saw him shiver, even with the hot water coursing all over him—that made her giggle.

“You know how much I love you?” she said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever entirely understand you, but from the moment I knew you were serious about this, and it wasn’t going to hurt you, I haven’t stopped thinking about what it would be like.”

“Good. Me neither.”

“But you know I don’t need this, don’t you? Any of it. All I need is you. That’s not to say I don’t want this. But I don’t need it.”

“I know. I don’t need it to happen, either. But I want you to experience it.”

His rock-hard, throbbing, pulsating erection confirmed him to be telling the truth, and she couldn’t help but hold it in her hands, looking at him all wide-eyed at just how big he was in response to the thought of her actually having sex with another man.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” was all she said, and he didn’t know what to say to that.

Such a sensual delight to shave her, when it was all over he just wanted to throw her on the bed and devour her. Only, when she stepped out of the shower, her skin all pink from the scalding water, glistening with that lotion she used to use when they were dating, because it made her skin so fresh and sexy, she told him not to touch.

“I can’t be all wet and bothered when I have to put in a shift at the bookstore all day,” she said.

“Of course.”

“And anyway, this is not for you,” she added, with a touch of mischievous spite, her eyes flickering over his face, his reaction, the massively hard erection. Intrigued, surprised, aroused.

“Why don’t you pick something out for me?” she asked him, picking up the hairdryer.

His hands were shaking a little as he went to her underwear drawer, drew it open, his eyes tumbling into the chaos of lacy, silky, dangerous lingerie. When did there become so much of it? He swore he’d never seen half of this stuff.

He got the very real sense that in all this, after all these weeks and months of playing around with The Fantasy, his wife had actually been steadily preparing herself to start dating again for real, despite her apparent caution and initial reluctance.

Confused by the array of sexy underwear on offer, he looked up, back. The hum of the hairdryer ceased to leave brutal quiet, Madeleine brushing that magnificent golden cascade that poured down her back, sparkling clean and ready for another man’s hands.

“Maybe the black ones?” she suggested, and Hugo realized he’d just been standing there, baffled. Then, a beat more and she was explaining, “The seamed stockings? I think fishnets may be too much for a first date.”

For Hugo, the stockings suddenly seemed too much. The lace of the bra, the ludicrous inefficiency of the garter belt, which seemed like the most archaic thing, and yet it made his blood pump four times as fast. And God, they had just shaved her pussy. For a first date! Her correspondence with this guy Will must have given her much more confidence than she’d had with her first online date.

Hugo laid out the stockings on the bed while she sat at her dresser to apply her make up.

“Panties?” she smiled through the mirror, and he looked at her, surprised that he could forget such a thing. “You do want me to wear some for him?”

Giving him that look of wonder, intrigue, mild shock, that this was really happening. That he was helping pick out her underwear for sex with someone else.

“Yeah,” he said, though a big part of him liked the idea of his wife going on her date without any panties. So naughty, so dangerous.

Thumbing through her lingerie again while she applied her make-up—relatively conservative for work other than the bright scarlet lipstick—the kind of lipstick a girl would only wear because it looked good sliding up and down a man’s hard cock.

Hugo held up the most breath-taking wisp of see-through black mesh, initially not even recognizing it as actual underwear.

“Perfect,” he heard her say, and the choice was made before he even knew what he was holding. The filthiest see-through thong he’d ever laid eyes on, something she had never even worn for him.

Then she was standing before him, asking him for help putting it on—as though she needed it. The sight of her perfectly shaved sex, right there in front of him, making him swoon a little.

Trembling as he helped connect up the clasps, rapturous as he helped her step into the sheer, near-invisible thong, his heart hiccuping painfully as he grasped the significance of her wearing her panties over the top of the garter belt and suspenders.

Shocking, the complete loss of control he felt.

“You don’t mind?”

“Huh?”

“Me wearing this?”

“No, of course. You look incredible,” he breathed, and she was giving him the kind of surprised smile that said she noticed this complement was not the usual kind of automated husband response to a wife’s inquiry. It was entirely unsolicited and unthought out—a gut reaction, pure, credible.

“Thank you,” she said, flashing him the full-on flirt that caused his heart bounce—she hadn’t shared that with him since the very early days.

And then he realized she was only really practicing it, trying it out before she put it on display for someone else, for real.

Wriggling into her dress to show him how the complete ensemble would look, she’d left the bra forlorn on the bed. His thoughts did not dwell on the question of whether or not she’d look obvious without a bra on her date: his eyes were drawn to that thong in the moments before she just about covered it with her dress. God, it was so tiny. He knew it would slip aside so easily. When did she buy that?

“Zip me up?” she asked, voice light, bouncy, high-pitched. Flirty.

He obliged, though he really would have preferred to just tear that dress off her. Holding aside her silky-soft golden hair to guide the fiddly little zip all the way up her back, breathing in the kind of cherry-vanilla perfume that would draw any man into a whirling fever of lust.

“What do you think?” she asked.

This time it was his turn to look wide-eyed at her, his jaw dropping. He said, “Unbelievable.”

She beamed. Still naked from their shower, he could hardly hide his powerful attraction to her and this ridiculously short figure-hugging dress, which somehow seemed to enhance her curves, show off her cleavage and draw the eyes down to her beautiful thighs, so short they revealed the edges of her lace-topped stockings.