© Copyright britslut 2008. No re-use allowed without permission.
My husband Mike was ill-at-ease; I could tell he had something on his mind. That night, lying in bed after making love, I asked him what was the matter.
‘There’s a seat on the board coming vacant. It’s a good chance I might be in line for it. It would mean a big rise in salary, and stock options, that sort of thing.’
‘That’s great! ... isn’t it? I suppose it’s more responsibility, more travel? We wouldn’t have so much time together?’
‘I don’t think the travel would change much. I’m sure I’m up to it - well, pretty sure.’
‘What’s bothering you, then?’
‘It’s the selection procedure, really. Since we got taken over by the US group a few years ago, they’ve imposed a much more American style of management. It’s all about whether you fit in, whether you live in the right place, play at the right golf club, whether your family are the right sort of people. You know.’
‘So we’d have to start playing golf and going to church, you mean?’
He snorted. ‘Well, it would help. But I’m not prepared to go that far. I reckon if they want me, they’ll have to take me on my merits. But there is one thing.’
‘It seems to be the custom to invite the chairman - the big boss - round to dinner, so he can get to know you - I mean, us - socially, sound us out, that sort of thing. It’s so stereotyped.’
‘I’m OK with that.’ Oh god, I thought, I’ll have to spring-clean the house, buy some better crockery, practice some elaborate-looking recipes, buy new clothes ... ‘What’s he like?’
‘Oh, he’s OK. I get on with him all right. Used to getting his own way - well, he wouldn’t be chairman of the board otherwise, I suppose.’
‘I imagine him 60-ish, jowly and fat, booming voice, smokes cigars.’
‘Now that is stereotyped. Actually he’s about 50, pretty good-looking, keeps fit. I don’t think he smokes, although he’s partial to single malts. There is one thing, though.’
‘He’s a bit of ladies’ man. He’s had affairs with quite of few of the female execs, so the word is. Always pawing his secretary - don’t know why she puts up with it.’
I stiffened. ‘So what you’re saying is, if he takes a shine to me, just let him have his way. All in the company’s interests.’
‘No ... not at all. Just ... well, if he gropes your bum or something, just don’t knee him in the balls.’
I laughed. ‘OK, if you say so. Actually, if he’s as fit as you say, I might want to take it further.’
Mike slapped my bum playfully. ‘You dare! I know you’re the sexiest most attractive woman in the world, but you’re mine and mine alone!’
I kissed him. In our 20 years of marriage I had never been unfaithful, and never wanted to, despite several propositions. I was completely sure that he was the same.
‘You’d better invite him round then. Not too soon, though, I need time to prepare. Tell me more about him. Married? Kids, Politics?’
‘He’s either married or has been, not sure which. 3 kids, all at Oxbridge, of course. Politics - somewhere to the right of Thatcher, I think. We’d better keep the conversation away from politics.’
‘And you really think you’ve got a good chance of this post?’
‘Mmm, all things being equal.’ I knew that my husband was a cautious man and that if he said there was a chance, it was a pretty good one. With two kids at university, we could do with the extra money. I resolved to play the good wife and give him my full support.
A dinner date was fixed for a Saturday a few weeks away, but it came round all too soon. The house had been cleaned from top to bottom, new tableware bought or borrowed, flowers arranged, my hair done, and the dishes practiced until I was confident there would be no disasters. I agonised over what to wear. Something smart but sexy, I thought. No point in looking dowdy. I was an attractive woman in my 40s and wanted to make the most of it. Also, it would divert attention from the food and any other defects we might have.
I put on a short black lacy dress which was almost but not quite see-through, hinting at expensive lingerie underneath. The hint was correct - matching black bra, panties, suspender belt and stockings, newly got from Ann Summers, with 2-inch heels. When I feel sexy I’m more confident. I gave my husband a preview and his eyes nearly popped out.
‘Wow, you look ravishing!’ He grabbed me in his arms. ‘Have we got time for a quickie?’
‘No,’ I laughed, disengaging. ‘And don’t mess up my hair! You think I’ll do, then?’
‘I’ll be surprised if he can keep his hands off you.’
‘I’m relying on his wife to keep him under control.’ We had found out that there was indeed a wife, and she had been invited, as seemed to be the custom.
There was a myriad of things to do and little panics to avert but we were just about ready and pretending to be relaxed when the doorbell rang. My heart fluttered. A lot was riding on this evening. Mike opened the door and there they were.
‘Michael! So good of you to have us over!’ His voice was a little booming, but otherwise urbane and normal.
‘Edgar, this is my wife Gina.’
I saw his eyes widen. ‘Charming, charming,’ he said as he took my hand. ‘And this is my wife Aishwayra.’
I had already been distracted from the undoubtedly good-looking chairman by the tall Indian lady next to him. She wore a bright blue sari with silver embroidery which highlighted the honey colour of her flawless skin. She was not young, but supremely beautiful, and exuded a calm and elegant sexuality which quite disconcerted me.
‘Aishwayra ...’ I said, shaking her hand, trying to copy his pronunciation.
‘Please, call me Ash,’ she said in an amused voice. ‘Everyone does.’ She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek; I caught a whiff of subtle perfume. Then she kissed Mike likewise.
‘Well, if we’re at the kissing stage already, I mustn’t be left out,’ Edgar chuckled, wafting his expensive aftershave over both my cheeks. ‘Gina, so pleased to meet you. Mike has often talked about you.’
We moved into the house, making small-talk. My mind was a whirl. Why didn’t Mike tell me that Edgar’s wife was Indian? Would she like the food? Or was I being racist in assuming she didn’t eat European food? And why on earth, with such a gorgeous wife, did Edgar feel the need to have affairs with other women?
We sat in the lounge and I busied myself with drinks. Edgar and Mike had Glenmorangie (‘nothing with it, Gina, the Scots would massacre me if I put ice or ginger in it’) and Ash asked for a tonic water (‘I’m driving tonight’). I perched on the sofa, with Ash at the other end, the two males in armchairs. I arranged my legs demurely, as far as that was possible with a short dress (I had already caught Edgar casting glances at my thighs), feeling just a bit tarty against Ash’s elegance.
Surprisingly, the conversation flowed very easily. We talked about children, universities, holidays, sport, hobbies, anything really except politics and religion - and the seat on the board. Edgar was found of rather laboured jokes, but his wife kept him in check with dry comments. I found myself warming to them - an oddly-matched couple in many ways. I was dying to ask them how they had met, how long they had been married, and so on.
We moved to the table and I managed not to spill food into anyone’s lap. To my relief Ash complimented me on my cooking and since she ate everything I gave her I assumed she was being genuine. She took just a small glass of white wine (‘it’s your turn to drive next time, Edgar, or we’ll take a taxi’), while her husband drank more copiously without any visible effects. He and Mike had an increasing tendency to talk shop - I felt unable to intervene (maybe I was expected to join in, but I hadn’t a clue what they were talking about), but Ash would try to steer the conversation back to more general things. Once she rolled her eyes at me when the men started again on area-weighted profit margins or some such.
The meal wound down to coffee and hand-made chocolates (which Edgar had presented) and I felt I could relax a little, helped by a couple of glasses of wine. More whisky was produced for the males. Edgar paid me a few rather old-fashioned compliments - I could see his eyes wandering over my body, trying to discern what underwear I might have on under the lacy dress. Mike was right, I thought, he was really very handsome. I found myself wondering what he was like as a lover, what he would look like naked, what his cock was like. I realised that I was letting my hem ride up my legs so that he might be able to see my stocking tops, and mentally slapped myself. That’s far enough, you whore, Gina, I thought.
Mike and Edgar had lapsed into global sales strategies again. Ash turned to me and grinned.
‘Gina, I’m fascinated by what you said about the textile art you do. Would you mind showing me your studio?’
Studio was perhaps a rather fancy name for it, but I had devoted the largest room in the house to my hobby - it had north-facing windows and a huge work-table.
‘It’s not very tidy, I’m afraid ...’ In fact it was the one room I hadn’t touched.
‘Artist’s studios shouldn’t be tidy. It stifles creativity, don’t you think?’
‘Well, I’m not sure I would call myself an artist ...’ Nevertheless I led her upstairs, glad of the chance to have a one-to-one and maybe find out a bit more about Ash and her husband.
‘Oh, it’s lovely!’ she exclaimed. ‘I wish I had a room like this. So many beautiful fabrics! And such colours!’ She went round stroking the piles of cloth - fabric was made to be stroked, not just looked at.
‘I can’t help buying bits, wherever I go. I’ve got far more than I’ll ever use.’
‘I love bright colours,’ she said. ‘I think it’s a shame that men don’t wear colourful clothes in Britain - I mean, to work.’
‘Yes, dark suits are a bit boring, aren’t they? I love your sari, by the way. It really shimmers. If you’re not careful, I’ll be cutting a piece off to put in my stash!’
‘I love your dress, too,’ she said. ‘But I better not cut any off it.’
I gulped. ‘Bit short, really, I guess. I was trying to make an impression.’
‘You certainly have done, Gina. Edgar is quite smitten with you.’
‘Do you think so? Mike said that he ... likes women.’ Oh dear, I thought, I shouldn’t have said that.
Ash chuckled. ‘He certainly does. But I fucked him several times before we came out. I’m surprised he can even stand up.’
To hear this elegant middle-aged woman say this so casually in her soft refined voice was quite shocking. I was speechless.
‘I didn’t want him to make a fool of himself. You’re a very attractive and sexy woman, Gina. You certainly made an impression on me. Mike is a very lucky man.’
‘Edgar is lucky too ... I don’t know why he looks at other women.’ My head was swimming - the conversation had suddenly gone off at a very acute tangent.
‘Thank you ... that’s a lovely thing to say,’ Ash murmured. I realised that we were standing very close together. I could feel the warmth of her body. The honey-coloured skin of her bare shoulders and arms and neck made my senses swim - or was it the wine? Our eyes locked.
The woman reached up and stroked my cheek, very softly. I was hypnotised. Then she leaned forward and touched her lips against mine, like a butterfly’s caress. Her tongue tip emerged and worried its way in between my lips, touched my teeth. It was so erotic that I forgot that she was a woman and that I had never in my life been kissed in that way by another woman. Her lips continued to flutter against mine, her fingers tingled against my cheek and jawbone. Unable to move, I felt her other hand trail slowly down across my breast and stomach and hip until it reached the hem of my dress. Then it began to move back up my thigh, carrying the dress with it, over my sheer stocking and the lacy band at the top, then my bare skin, then the thin strap of my panties. I was trembling violently but couldn’t pull away.
Expertly, Ash slipped her fingers into the top of my panties and down across my pubes, which I had trimmed just that morning.
‘Mmm, Gina, you are such a sexy woman,’ she murmured into my mouth. Her fingers parted my labia and came to rest on my button. I was ashamed to realise that I was already moist with excitement. She began to caress the tender skin around my clit, expertly and knowingly, drawing it out of its hood until it jutted proudly, urgently. I felt shivers down my legs and up my spine.
Her lips still caressed mine softly while she stroked my clit. I couldn’t stop my legs shaking. Suddenly the orgasm swept over me and I found myself making little moaning noises into her mouth. It ebbed quickly, leaving me hungry for more. I was putty in her hands.
Ash put her hands on my hips, still keeping her lips brushing against mine.
‘Hop up on the edge of the table, Gina,’ she murmured. ‘I’m going to lick your cunt now.’
I couldn’t resist - not that I wanted to. She perched me on the edge of my craft table - a use to which it had never before been put - and carefully eased my panties down and off my feet. Then she parted my thighs and pushed my dress up to my waist and knelt between my legs. I closed my eyes in bliss as I felt her tongue flicking ever so gently against my nether lips, her breath wafting against my sensitive membranes. As my vagina dilated I felt a drop of hot fluid slide out of me and down over my perineum.
Mike was competent at oral sex but this woman was a world champion. I couldn’t suppress moans of ecstasy as she kissed and nibbled and licked and probed all around my yearning orifice, carefully avoiding my clit which was aching for attention. She even teased and caressed my anus with her tongue! Slowly she slid a finger - or maybe two - into my tunnel, which quivered with delight. Deeper and deeper she probed, stroking the front wall of my vagina, producing novel sensations from what I supposed must have been my G-spot. Mike and I had never managed to find it before - Ash went straight to it! My muscles caught at her fingers, trying to suck them further in. I spread my thighs as wide as I could and humped my pubes into her face shamelessly. And still she avoided touching my clit, all the while massaging my G-spot until there was a core of fire deep inside me that felt like it would explode. I thought I was going to pee, but I couldn’t have said anything to her in my extremity of pleasure.
Finally, she covered my vagina with her mouth and laid her tongue against my clit and made a sort of humming sound. It was exactly like a vibrator. Helplessly I burst and my muscles clamped down hard on her fingers. I felt a hot gush of liquid from my pee-hole. Stars exploded in my head. Dimly I heard someone sobbing with bliss and realised that it was me.
The orgasm lasted for ages and Ash only let me down to earth very slowly, my whole body throbbing and trembling. She took her mouth away from my crotch, which was now soaking wet, and looked up at me, smiling.
‘Mmm, Gina, you have the most delicious cunt-juice I have ever tasted. Thank you.’
‘Ohh,’ was all I could say for the moment. The implication that she was a connoisseur escaped me for the moment. ‘I’m sorry - it’s never happened before.’
She stood up and helped me off the table. My legs felt like jelly.
‘I squirt sometimes when I come,’ she said softly. ‘Not every time. Well, I suppose we ought to be getting back to the men; they’ll be wondering what we’re doing.’
I smoothed my dress down and managed the stairs without wobbling too much, conscious of the fluids spreading down my inner thighs.
‘You must come round for coffee one day,’ Ash said, her eyes twinkling. ‘Would you like that?’
I nodded, knowing full well what she meant.
‘Our secret, eh?’
I nodded again.
I don’t think that Mike and Edgar had even known that we had been gone. My flushed face and misty eyes did not seem to be noticed. Ash gently reminded her husband that they ought to be going, it was late. Farewells and effusive thanks were exchanged, endlessly it seemed. I found it hard to concentrate, thinking only of the Indian woman’s mouth on my pussy, and the promise of another meeting soon. Finally they were waved off, Ash giving me a private grin, and we shut the door.
‘Well, I think that went off OK, don’t you,’ said Mike with a big sigh. ‘He more or less said that the post’s as good as mine. Phew ...’
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body against him tightly and nuzzled his ear.
‘Darling, I want you to fuck me very very hard. Now. Quickly. Just do it, every way you want ...’
last modified 26 September 2008