Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
Foxy Lady
Star
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2014
- Location
- United Kingdom
Hi, it's me. Back again with another entry from my blog. Did you enjoy the first one, about the wedding reception. Look it up if you haven't read it yet.
We'd been living in the village about five years by then. I'd kept my head down, metaphorically that is. Don't shit on your own doorstep, that's what my mother had told me and it seemed good advice in a small community like this one. And I would have been happy for it to stay that way, had it not been for something I overheard in the loo.
You need a bit of background first. The village was small, but it had an active social life, with lots of clubs and societies. I joined a few, mostly to get to know people. I didn't push myself forward, that's not my style. Others, of course, were always pushy, getting onto committees, taking charge of events. You know the type. They are indispensable, but a pain in the ass.
Well, I happened to be minding my own business in the loo at the local recreational centre where we held our larger meetings. As it happened, I was in the furthest cubicle from the door, just because it was the cleanest, when I heard three of these pushy types come in chatting. I always thought of them as the three witches, after Macbeth.
'She's such a frump. You'd think she could afford some decent clothes, what with how much her husband earns.'
Clarissa, the leader of the coven.
I wondered who they were talking about at first.
'No point wasting money on clothes when you have no body to show off. She's like a bean pole,' Sandie laughed.
'A bean pole with a horse's head on it,' chipped in Paula, the third of the coven.
By that time, I knew who they meant: me.
I'm plain, no denying it. Slender, not much by way of flesh, tits so small that I could be mistaken for a boy, if it weren't for the lack of the necessary appendages between my thighs, and a tight small ass. To save you speculating, my husband finds both of these features attractive. Very much so. Which may tell you something about him, but I am not complaining.
'How did she manage to get herself a husband, that's what I want to know?'
'She must have something on him,' a comment which they all found highly amusing.
I stayed put and remained quiet, although my business there was finished.
Later I reflected on what they had said and came to a decision. Revenge. I would repay their remarks and there was one way to do it. Via their husbands. After all, they would not be the first, not by a long way.
All I needed was an opportunity.
It was three months before fate dealt me the hand I needed. The meeting of the book club coincided with my husband being away on business and with Clarissa, the leader of the coven, being summoned to look after her mother who had just had a hip replacement. Fortunately, her husband was not required by the bedside and came along on his own.
Since his wife was in charge of organising the meetings, he had to stay behind to help tidy up. It just so happened that we were the last to leave.
'It's dark, isn't it,' I remarked casually, as if for something to say. 'I didn't realise it would take so long to clear up.' It was indeed a dark night. 'I'd have brought a torch if I'd known,' I added a final hint.
'You're right, it's darker than I expected. Let me see you to your gate. Would that be OK?'
I informed him that it would be OK.
By the way, his name was Daniel. Dan for short. Obviously.
As we reached my gate, I slowed down and shuddered.
'Stupid,' I muttered almost under my breath. 'I forgot to leave the lights on.' Meaning, of course, that I had deliberately put them all off.
'Of course, your husband is away, isn't he.' Good boy, he had been listening to my carefully detailed, and tedious, explanation of why I had come alone. 'Look, let me walk you to your door and see you safely inside.'
I said nothing, until after a lot of fumbling in the dark first to find the key in my handbag and then to fit it into the lock, the door was open and the hall light was on. Only then did I speak.
'Thank you so much, Daniel,' using a guy's full name always gets their attention, especially if they usually abbreviate it. Try saying it slowly too, just a bit, not too much of a drawl. That always gets their attention. 'You've been very kind,' I told him and waited. This called for a reply.
He muttered something self-deprecating, which I didn't bother listening to.
'Look, I've taken you out of your way. Can I offer you something, a drink to warm you before you go home?' I had moved a little closer to him.
He hesitated. I just looked up at him. Being short and close I had to cock my head back. Finally, he nodded and followed me inside. This was the moment of decision. Whatever happened later was already written.
I won't bore you with the drink and the tedious conversation. Cut to the chase. We were back in the hall. A step or two before we reached the door, I turned to him. 'Thank you, Daniel,' was all I said. Then I stood on tiptoe, took hold of his arm, and went as if to kiss his cheek. He responded, but at the last second I shift position ever to slightly and our lips met.
He began to apologise, but I ignored him, holding him once again with my gaze, my hand still on his arm. I held my breath for a few moments before releasing it with an audible gasp. That's very effective, by the way, it always makes a guy's balls tingle. I licked my lips. Our faces were only a few inches apart.
One of us had to take the next step and it looked like he was unsure about it, so I lent a hand. Being on tiptoes, I was a little unsteady and contrived to topple slightly. He reached out to stop me falling, which led me to fall, seemingly naturally, against him. I grabbed him, as you do when you are falling, and he put his arm round me, as you do when you are supporting someone, leaving our bodies pressed against each other.
I made no attempt to step back, neither did he.
I did that trick with my breathing again, holding it for longer this time, so he could feel the sigh against his chest.
As I looked up, he lowered his head, I raised mine, and our lips met again, for longer this time. I could have taken him right then, but he was not getting off that easily. This had to be his move, no way was he going to be able to blame me for what happened next.
His hands were running down my back now. I made no move to stop him. His hands stopped just short of my buttocks and skirted round to my hips before going up again.
His fingers were on the zip of my dress before I spoke.
'Not here.'
He abandoned the zip.
'Where?'
'Upstairs.'
I led the way, into the master suite, the cuckold suite.
He came forward and unzipped my dress with ease. Not his first time, I guessed.
My dress slid off revealing me in scarlet satin, thong and bra.
He had the bra off with the flick of his wrist. Impressive.
I began pulling his shirt out of his trousers, just to show interest. Nice chest. Some fur, which I like. A tan, which I like. Some muscles, which I like too.
I turned my attention to his belt, making a meal of it, forcing him to take his hands of me and disrobe himself. By the time he had, I was ready to make my move. Arms round his neck, seeming to pull him on top of me, then twisting so that he was the one on his back.
He was hard already. I made appreciative noises, as required in this situation. His cock was nothing special. It was hard, which is important. Not particularly long or thick, just ordinary, like most guys. Uncut.
I climbed over his hips, a stretch for someone small like me, took a firm hold on his cock and sank down on it.
He sighed, but he can't have failed to notice that I was sopping wet.
And there I sat.
He tried to buck, but I shift my weight and held him down.
My eyes were locked on his now and they would not move until this was done.
He's puzzled, because this was not what he expected. He's puzzled, too, because he already senses that this is different from what he is used to. But he hasn't worked out why he feels like this. Not yet.
Let me tell you, because otherwise it's going to be boring for you just hearing about me sitting astride him gazing intently into his eyes.
What he's experiencing is vaginal squeezing. It's just me rippling my cunt muscles. Without moving my body, I am milking his cock. Any woman can learn the trick, with just a bit of practice. Right now, the sensation is blowing his mind. Soon, very soon, whether he likes it or not, I will drain every drop of sperm from his balls. He has never experienced anything like this, certainly not with his expense account trophy wife. Whenever he fucks her, all he will be thinking is how inadequate she is in comparison with me. He wouldn't be seen dead with me on his arm at a reception, but he'll get down on his knees and crawl across my bedroom for another session like this one.
And that, dear readers, gives me power. I have the secret pleasure of knowing that I have taken her husband behind her back and that I share that secret with her husband, who definitely does not want his wife to know what we know. Which gives me a hold over him. one that I can exercise whenever he comes sniffing around for more. And, let me assure you, he will certainly be sniffing around the first chance he gets.
I've had a lot of practice at this technique. I once made it last for over an hour, but that was with my husband, and I have no interest in spending that long with Daniel.
I give him a full 10 minutes, which is generous considering I'm not charging. Ten minutes of varying, intense pleasure. Ten minutes of him knowing he is totally under my control. Ten minutes build up to what?
Ten minutes build up to a sudden increase in the power and speed of my contractions. He noticed the change and began to moan. He knows he has no control over what is happening, that I am in total control. He could escape, if he used all his masculine power, but he doesn't want to miss what is coming.
He's breathing faster.
His hands are gripping the bedding, tight.
His eyes are closed.
He's lost it.
Totally.
A long groan as his sperm gushes into my cunt.
I keep the pressure on until he's dry. Only then do I relax my muscles.
He finally opens his eyes. I am still looking at him.
He doesn't know what to say. Of course, he doesn't. This was not what he expected, not at all.
I rise on my knees and eject his cock. It lands with a splat on his belly.
I stay poised over him, waiting until I am ready.
And when I am ready, I expel a blob of his sperm that lands on his stomach.
Time to dismount. I retrieve my clothes, step into my thong, fasten my bra, and zip up my dress.
Job done.
He gets the message and climbs off the bed to dress.
I lead the way downstairs. He tries to kiss me, but I sidestep and open the door.
He doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing, which is always safest. The look on his face says it all. He's been tricked and trapped, and he knows it. And he doesn't dare think about what will happen to his marriage and parts of his anatomy if Clarissa ever hears about it.
I close the door behind him.
Job done, Daniel.
We'd been living in the village about five years by then. I'd kept my head down, metaphorically that is. Don't shit on your own doorstep, that's what my mother had told me and it seemed good advice in a small community like this one. And I would have been happy for it to stay that way, had it not been for something I overheard in the loo.
You need a bit of background first. The village was small, but it had an active social life, with lots of clubs and societies. I joined a few, mostly to get to know people. I didn't push myself forward, that's not my style. Others, of course, were always pushy, getting onto committees, taking charge of events. You know the type. They are indispensable, but a pain in the ass.
Well, I happened to be minding my own business in the loo at the local recreational centre where we held our larger meetings. As it happened, I was in the furthest cubicle from the door, just because it was the cleanest, when I heard three of these pushy types come in chatting. I always thought of them as the three witches, after Macbeth.
'She's such a frump. You'd think she could afford some decent clothes, what with how much her husband earns.'
Clarissa, the leader of the coven.
I wondered who they were talking about at first.
'No point wasting money on clothes when you have no body to show off. She's like a bean pole,' Sandie laughed.
'A bean pole with a horse's head on it,' chipped in Paula, the third of the coven.
By that time, I knew who they meant: me.
I'm plain, no denying it. Slender, not much by way of flesh, tits so small that I could be mistaken for a boy, if it weren't for the lack of the necessary appendages between my thighs, and a tight small ass. To save you speculating, my husband finds both of these features attractive. Very much so. Which may tell you something about him, but I am not complaining.
'How did she manage to get herself a husband, that's what I want to know?'
'She must have something on him,' a comment which they all found highly amusing.
I stayed put and remained quiet, although my business there was finished.
Later I reflected on what they had said and came to a decision. Revenge. I would repay their remarks and there was one way to do it. Via their husbands. After all, they would not be the first, not by a long way.
All I needed was an opportunity.
It was three months before fate dealt me the hand I needed. The meeting of the book club coincided with my husband being away on business and with Clarissa, the leader of the coven, being summoned to look after her mother who had just had a hip replacement. Fortunately, her husband was not required by the bedside and came along on his own.
Since his wife was in charge of organising the meetings, he had to stay behind to help tidy up. It just so happened that we were the last to leave.
'It's dark, isn't it,' I remarked casually, as if for something to say. 'I didn't realise it would take so long to clear up.' It was indeed a dark night. 'I'd have brought a torch if I'd known,' I added a final hint.
'You're right, it's darker than I expected. Let me see you to your gate. Would that be OK?'
I informed him that it would be OK.
By the way, his name was Daniel. Dan for short. Obviously.
As we reached my gate, I slowed down and shuddered.
'Stupid,' I muttered almost under my breath. 'I forgot to leave the lights on.' Meaning, of course, that I had deliberately put them all off.
'Of course, your husband is away, isn't he.' Good boy, he had been listening to my carefully detailed, and tedious, explanation of why I had come alone. 'Look, let me walk you to your door and see you safely inside.'
I said nothing, until after a lot of fumbling in the dark first to find the key in my handbag and then to fit it into the lock, the door was open and the hall light was on. Only then did I speak.
'Thank you so much, Daniel,' using a guy's full name always gets their attention, especially if they usually abbreviate it. Try saying it slowly too, just a bit, not too much of a drawl. That always gets their attention. 'You've been very kind,' I told him and waited. This called for a reply.
He muttered something self-deprecating, which I didn't bother listening to.
'Look, I've taken you out of your way. Can I offer you something, a drink to warm you before you go home?' I had moved a little closer to him.
He hesitated. I just looked up at him. Being short and close I had to cock my head back. Finally, he nodded and followed me inside. This was the moment of decision. Whatever happened later was already written.
I won't bore you with the drink and the tedious conversation. Cut to the chase. We were back in the hall. A step or two before we reached the door, I turned to him. 'Thank you, Daniel,' was all I said. Then I stood on tiptoe, took hold of his arm, and went as if to kiss his cheek. He responded, but at the last second I shift position ever to slightly and our lips met.
He began to apologise, but I ignored him, holding him once again with my gaze, my hand still on his arm. I held my breath for a few moments before releasing it with an audible gasp. That's very effective, by the way, it always makes a guy's balls tingle. I licked my lips. Our faces were only a few inches apart.
One of us had to take the next step and it looked like he was unsure about it, so I lent a hand. Being on tiptoes, I was a little unsteady and contrived to topple slightly. He reached out to stop me falling, which led me to fall, seemingly naturally, against him. I grabbed him, as you do when you are falling, and he put his arm round me, as you do when you are supporting someone, leaving our bodies pressed against each other.
I made no attempt to step back, neither did he.
I did that trick with my breathing again, holding it for longer this time, so he could feel the sigh against his chest.
As I looked up, he lowered his head, I raised mine, and our lips met again, for longer this time. I could have taken him right then, but he was not getting off that easily. This had to be his move, no way was he going to be able to blame me for what happened next.
His hands were running down my back now. I made no move to stop him. His hands stopped just short of my buttocks and skirted round to my hips before going up again.
His fingers were on the zip of my dress before I spoke.
'Not here.'
He abandoned the zip.
'Where?'
'Upstairs.'
I led the way, into the master suite, the cuckold suite.
He came forward and unzipped my dress with ease. Not his first time, I guessed.
My dress slid off revealing me in scarlet satin, thong and bra.
He had the bra off with the flick of his wrist. Impressive.
I began pulling his shirt out of his trousers, just to show interest. Nice chest. Some fur, which I like. A tan, which I like. Some muscles, which I like too.
I turned my attention to his belt, making a meal of it, forcing him to take his hands of me and disrobe himself. By the time he had, I was ready to make my move. Arms round his neck, seeming to pull him on top of me, then twisting so that he was the one on his back.
He was hard already. I made appreciative noises, as required in this situation. His cock was nothing special. It was hard, which is important. Not particularly long or thick, just ordinary, like most guys. Uncut.
I climbed over his hips, a stretch for someone small like me, took a firm hold on his cock and sank down on it.
He sighed, but he can't have failed to notice that I was sopping wet.
And there I sat.
He tried to buck, but I shift my weight and held him down.
My eyes were locked on his now and they would not move until this was done.
He's puzzled, because this was not what he expected. He's puzzled, too, because he already senses that this is different from what he is used to. But he hasn't worked out why he feels like this. Not yet.
Let me tell you, because otherwise it's going to be boring for you just hearing about me sitting astride him gazing intently into his eyes.
What he's experiencing is vaginal squeezing. It's just me rippling my cunt muscles. Without moving my body, I am milking his cock. Any woman can learn the trick, with just a bit of practice. Right now, the sensation is blowing his mind. Soon, very soon, whether he likes it or not, I will drain every drop of sperm from his balls. He has never experienced anything like this, certainly not with his expense account trophy wife. Whenever he fucks her, all he will be thinking is how inadequate she is in comparison with me. He wouldn't be seen dead with me on his arm at a reception, but he'll get down on his knees and crawl across my bedroom for another session like this one.
And that, dear readers, gives me power. I have the secret pleasure of knowing that I have taken her husband behind her back and that I share that secret with her husband, who definitely does not want his wife to know what we know. Which gives me a hold over him. one that I can exercise whenever he comes sniffing around for more. And, let me assure you, he will certainly be sniffing around the first chance he gets.
I've had a lot of practice at this technique. I once made it last for over an hour, but that was with my husband, and I have no interest in spending that long with Daniel.
I give him a full 10 minutes, which is generous considering I'm not charging. Ten minutes of varying, intense pleasure. Ten minutes of him knowing he is totally under my control. Ten minutes build up to what?
Ten minutes build up to a sudden increase in the power and speed of my contractions. He noticed the change and began to moan. He knows he has no control over what is happening, that I am in total control. He could escape, if he used all his masculine power, but he doesn't want to miss what is coming.
He's breathing faster.
His hands are gripping the bedding, tight.
His eyes are closed.
He's lost it.
Totally.
A long groan as his sperm gushes into my cunt.
I keep the pressure on until he's dry. Only then do I relax my muscles.
He finally opens his eyes. I am still looking at him.
He doesn't know what to say. Of course, he doesn't. This was not what he expected, not at all.
I rise on my knees and eject his cock. It lands with a splat on his belly.
I stay poised over him, waiting until I am ready.
And when I am ready, I expel a blob of his sperm that lands on his stomach.
Time to dismount. I retrieve my clothes, step into my thong, fasten my bra, and zip up my dress.
Job done.
He gets the message and climbs off the bed to dress.
I lead the way downstairs. He tries to kiss me, but I sidestep and open the door.
He doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing, which is always safest. The look on his face says it all. He's been tricked and trapped, and he knows it. And he doesn't dare think about what will happen to his marriage and parts of his anatomy if Clarissa ever hears about it.
I close the door behind him.
Job done, Daniel.