Written by Peter
22 Nov 2010
I know it's not your wife- Part One
- 9 Comments
- 6721 Views
5 minute read
I am the contracts manager of a small specialist engineering firm near London. My wife, Lavinia and I live in a pleasant village outside of town. This is just as well because it was a sixties boom town, now gone bad. There are some nasty things going on there, and lots of nasty people. Back in the 1960s, Scvottish and Pakistani newcomers flooded in. There were jobs galore and organsied crime and prostitution flourished. The jobs have gone, but the other things are flourishing even more.
However, we are an established firm. I joined fresh from the army, ten years ago. Lavinia and I had seen a bit of life during my service days as an offcier with REME, but we were happy to settle in a large old thatched cottage in a pleasant village, full of people like us. Our daughters left home as soon as they could, off to university and careers of their own. They are far too wrapped up in themselves to visit us very often.
About six months ago, my wife said that she had found a job with a local PR firm in London. It was nothing grand, she said, just answering phones and meeting people. I thought it was a brilliant idea because our relationship had been getting stale. The stress of work had dampened my sex drive and Lavinia hardly seemed interested in me. She spent most of her money on expensive clothes, luxurious lingerie, shoes, make up beauty treatment,and jewelery. I didn't mind because she looked so horny that I could hardly stop wanking.
Admitedly Lavinia has her shoudler length permed blode hair coloured to hide the grey bits, but she is still a slim size 8, with big blue eyes, slender legs and nice 34d breasts. She hardly needs the support of the pretty lace and satin bras that she wears to support them.
With her big nipples, men would die to suck and play with them. At 50, she is nine years younger than me, but the age gap looks even wider. She has young smooth skin and a wonderful complexion. Her full lips don't need collageN. Painted with bright red lipstick, any man would love her sucking his cock.
I am still slim and fit, with a full head of hair, but business shas been bad and we are trading down dealing with every Tom, Dick, and Harry who has an excuse for a business under the local railway viaduct arches.
Fortunately, I still have my large office, well decorated, with massive leather topped mahogany desk, sofas, computer and bookcases. To make myself feel even more at home, I have family photos on my desk. Pride of place goes to A4 size professional images of my beloved Lavinia dressed in the tailored business suits that she wears for her new career.
Her tailored jackets show of her slender feminine waist. in teh two photos, her smart jacket is sufficiently unbottoned to reveal what is under her translucent blouse. Hearing her soft feminine undies and stockings rustling against her slip and skirt lining, I got hard too often for comfort. The matching knee length tight skirts perfectly displayed her womanly hips. Her legs looked exquisite in shimmering black silk seamed stockings, tapering down to very high black patent leather high heels.
There were two images of her on my desk, one sitting, another standing. To be honest, I kept them there to wank off to during the long boring day. Though my wifes well made up, perfumed, well dressed and jewlery bedecked body had brought new life to my tired old cock, she worked such odd hours and was so often too tired to let me fuck her. This was so frustrating because she had taken to using cream to depilate her little pussy slit. Sometimes she would not even let me see her undress. She would complain of feeling unwell or tired. Also, she had not hit teh menopause and compalined that her periods were eratic. Often, I saw her in her bra panties and stockings with teh tell tale bulge of a panty pad in the crotch of her panties. I guessed she must be telling teh truth. One time she came in and rushed her undies staright into teh wash. I could see she was having difficulty walking on her high heels and agreed taht she would be best to go to bed by herself taht night, she looked so poorly.
But how I craved taht bald pussy slit, when I saw her in her full briefs. Her outline looked superby her sex so looked so inviting, bulging against the tight satin full briefs that she also had atken to earing, along with slips, sometime spanty girldes and pretty suspender belts. She was teh epitome of 1950s retro eroticism I wnated to fuck her so much, I had to put toilet paper in my underpants to catch my ejaculate as I wanked away looking at her pretty pictures.
Clients always used to peer at her image. Only recently, a Pakistani client was leering at her photo so openly and asking if the pretty lady was my wife that I found myself getting hard at the thought of him fucking her. There was an intensity about the way he looked at her that was altogether disconcerting, yet starngely exciting. As soon as this balding, lechorous pot bellied man had gone, I wanked at the thought of him stripping and doing it to her.I was to find out so muchh more over the next few months. As long as readers are not too critical of this account, I will write more.