At home, I awoke hubby paraded around the bed to show him the dress and shoes, his response.
Fully awake, aroused by the smell of Shalimar, he took me with dress and shoes on. Finished, I undressed, hung the dress in the closet, put the shoes underneath, and curled up in the bed with a smile. I was back in an affair rodeo, bucking on the adultery saddle to break in a new horse, Enrico.
Sunday morning, adorned in the dress and shoes, I arrived at the Stanford Mall fountain prior to Enrico’s scheduled time, went to the second level of a woman's store and found a spot to observe the fountain. I dawdled among the clothes racks until he showed up, ten minutes early. He eagerly scanned the shopping throngs, looking skeptical. I enjoyed spying and observing his fretting as he worried he was making a fool of himself.
Surreptitiously, I exited the store, waited a few minutes at a distance and strolled back five minutes late. He smiled broadly seeing me, relieved he wasn’t a fool and at my wearing the dress and shoes he’d bought.
I led him to the bistro where I first had tea with Edward. He ordered coffee and me tea, served in its little silver kettle. He loaded sugar and cream in his cup as he informed me, he didn't drink tea. I told him he needed to expand his taste and coffee, like whiskey is best drank neat.
To keep his attention, I tugged the dress’s hem with my right hand which wore Edward's sapphire ring, tapped a heel on the tile floor and swayed close when refilling my cup so he could smell his Shalimar. I sipped with my teacup in my wedding ring adorned hand and could tell the invasion of another man's territory excited him. It all kept him focused while he pretended to be aloof. His pretense failed. The guppy’s tail fluttered.
He glanced about now and then, to see if we were observed by the esplanade shoppers, nervous about being seen with me. I suspected he’d been caught before cheating on his wife and had domestic turf issues. This was confirmed later. Once my tea was finished, I swung toward him, got off the stool, gave him a panty flash and announced.
"I need to get a few nice things for our date."
"I am not buying jewelry."
"Of course not, I'm married and don't want your jewelry. You’re not important enough."
He flushed but didn’t reply, his relief at no jewelry overcame his desire to snap back. I led him into the Emporium Department Store at one end of the Mall. My short dress and high heels attracted the attention of others. He kept a nervous distance and acted as if he might walk away, but followed.
We rode the escalator to the second floor, he one step below while he glanced about attempting to discern what he would get stuck buying. He glanced furtively at my legs as the escalator rose then loosened up when I entered the lingerie section at the landing.
I went to bras and flipped through the racks while he stood back milling around as if he wasn't with me. He was wandering toward sleepwear to escape. I called him back.
"Do you see anything nice you want me to wear?"
I held an expensive bra of satin up to my breast. He nodded acquiesce. I gave it to him to hold and moved to panties. There, I held different pairs in front for him to choose from. He selected a nylon bikini with lace.
Holding my selections, he was sheepish, thinking what next? I picked up a garter belt and sheer nylons and announced.
"We’re done, we got nice things."
I steered him to the cashier. He pulled out his credit card, thought better of it and paid with cash. On the escalator ride down, carrying the bag, he asked.
"Am I going to see you wear these nice things?"
Not responding, I motioned him to follow me to the Mall parking lot. I walked briskly to my car, now a 914 Porsche, not a real Porsche but one at least one with the logo.
Its bucket seats rode low to the ground. I pulled open the driver’s door and sat down with my legs outside, the dress hem high on my thighs and let him leer. I took the package then swung my legs in, shut the door and rolled down the window.
He put his right hand on the door as if to restrain the car from escaping and asked again.
“Am I going to see you wear nice things?”
"Tonight, at eight, I’ll meet you at the San Jose Airport Holiday Inn lounge. Get a room. If you behave, I’ll model for you."
"In nice things?"
"Why do you think I selected them. Do they look like they’re for a half date?"
I started the car, sped off shifting gears and looked back in the rear-view mirror. He stood staring at the receding car. I smiled to my mirror.
This guppy will come fluttering his tail.
On the way home, I stopped at a Payless drug store and went through the embarrassment of purchasing condoms.
Home by noon, I changed clothes, stashed my new acquisitions, hung the dress in the bathroom to air out. Hubby and I took the kids to our parents for our weekly BBQ. As we drove over, I thought how hubby no longer brought the subject of swinging up. His swinging was with porno videotapes. At the BBQ and ride home I was sullen, distracted by thinking of my adultery rodeo how not to get bucked off Enrico’s saddle.
Home from the BBQ by 6 PM, the kids in the den watching TV, I dropped my bomb. “Nortec called. There’s a quick 8 O’clock meeting to learn how to operate a new alignment machine."
” On Sunday night?”
” It’s the only time they can do it. We run 24/7. The engineer promised it’ll be under 2 hours. I’ll get paid for it.”
Initially, I was going to use the shopping ruse but decided the risk of his insisting on coming with the kids was too great.
He was inquisitive, accepted the lie but remained suspicious. He stayed in the bedroom while I got ready and was shocked when I came out of the bathroom wearing the new bra, panties, garter belt and nylons, the latter I’d never worn. Before he inquired about them, I said.
“Do you like my new undies I got for you? Don’t get too turned on until I get back tonight.”
While putting on makeup, he grilled me who the engineer was. I answered.
"Some nerd named Enrico, Mr. Enrico as he insists. A bald Italian guy, pushy too, but I don’t know much about him. I’ll tell you more when I get back."
He attempted an advance as I got up from my makeup table.
“Wait, wait, I’m already late. The meeting will be over in a couple of hours.”
I slipped into the dress and heels and asked him to zip up the back. After zipping me up he pressed against my buttocks and attempted to lift the dress hem. I pushed him away, said again I was late and he could have it when I got back. I went to the den and kissed the kids. They liked the smell of Shalimar.
Standing before the empty space, where once there was a fish tank I thought of my new male guppy while putting on lipstick. I kept one eye on hubby flashing his tail, pouted my red lips, rubbed them together to even out the color, let hubby, cheek peck kiss and left at 7:30.
When young, s the Desoto drove out of the driveway and around the corner from home, an emotional rush of freedom swept me. The 914 turned the corner from home. An emotional rush swept me again. It wasn’t freedom. It was adultery’s attention addiction.
It was a half-hour drive to the San Jose Airport, Holiday Inn. I’d discovered its romantic rendezvouses potential accidentally after Edward left. Driving nearby, needing to use a restroom, it was a better option than an untidy service station. As I peed in its lobby restroom, subconsciously its potential for trysting registered.
It’s location at the confluence of the Bayshore and Nimitz freeways provided convenient access. The building screened the parking lot from street view. The need to use the restroom provided a plausible alibi If observed by someone known driving in or out. Proximity to San Jose’s Airport meant guests were from afar and unknown. The only exposure risk was riding the elevator or walking in a corridor to a guest room by someone know. If that happened both would pretend not to see the other.
Calculating its affair potential reflected libidinousness that knew what I didn’t admit, I missed subterfuge sex.
Early, I parked a couple blocks away, timed my arrival for a five minutes tardiness, drove in the parking lot, fussed before the mirror before exiting and, walked nonchalantly to the lobby. Scanning to ensure it was all clear I entered the lounge. He sat in a rear secluded booth and watched pleased to see my arrival. I sat opposite, said nothing, not even hi, and stared at him. His demeanor was repressed happiness, happiness I wore the dress and shoes he’d bought but probably more because I came. He broke the silence.
"What other nice things I bought are you wearing?"
"You didn’t buy me anything, there’re gifts."
Instead of retorting, he put his hand on my knee. I pushed it away.
"A gentleman waits until served."
"Do you think I'm a gentleman?"
"No, you’re crude."
The waitress interrupted. I ordered a glass of white wine, he a beer which he drank out of the bottle. He stared intently, an aroused guppy flashing his tail colors. He responded.
"Why do you think I'm crude?"
"You quaff your beer out of the bottle with a glass sitting in front of you. If you had polish, you’d take time to pour it in the glass, enjoy watching it foam and smell the beer as part of its taste before you drink."
"What about you? Do you have class?
“You’ll have to wait and see. It depends on how you behave.”
He poured the rest of his beer in the glass. We bantered until my wine was nearly gone, he impatiently. I held my wine up, took a last sip, looked at him through the empty glass and said.
Before he could reply, I walked swiftly to the lobby, not indicating if I was staying or leaving. He delayed at the table paying the bill. In the lobby I stood between the elevators and the exit and watched him. He fumbled in his wallet, paid cash, left without waiting for change and walked quickly towards me, perplexed if to get angry over my quick departure or smile at my hurry to model.
When he caught up, I strode to the elevators, pushed the up button and an elevator door dinged immediately, as if to say, action time. I entered.
He rushed in behind, pushed button three and we stared at each other as the car rose with my perfume and his after-shave comingling. When the door opened on the third floor, I let him hold my hand and lead me down the corridor.
At room 314 he took out his key, opened the door, and looked at me, unsure I would cross the threshold. Vixen meowed he needn't worry. I boldly stepped in.
A dozen red roses sat on a table with a bottle of Champagne. Next to them was a card.
I surveyed the room without hesitation, unlike entering Edward's apartment on our first night together. There was a king-size bed. The curtains were drawn. Satisfied, I bent over to admire the roses and let the rear hem of my mini dress rise, his first glimpse of my class act.
Ignoring the champagne and card, I waltzed to the bed, pulled all the covers off, led him by the hand and sat him on its edge. With the lights on, I undressed him, shirt hung on a chair, pants folded on the seat and shoes underneath.
I moved deliberately to be back home by ten but not hurriedly. He tried to speed the action and reached over and pull me close. I pushed him away and told him if he didn’t behave, he wouldn’t see me model. I had him take off his socks and pull his V-neck T-shirt over his head and throw them by the shoes. He revealed a muscular hairy chest that offset his baldness. He was trim but the beginning of a beer belly was evident.
Telling him to sit up, I bent down, and pulled off his jockey shorts and tossed them atop his T-shirt and socks.
Sitting exposed, he was vulnerable before me fully dressed. His penis inflated, proclaiming its intention of my being its next conquest. I stared at it impressed as it rose up. Erect it was the largest I’d seen but I’d only seen two. Theirs were in the six to seven-inch range depending on arousal. Enrico’s was definitely a circumcised eight.
He reached for me again but I pulled back and told him.
“Sit! If you are a good doggy your bone will get its treat.”
“When are you going to undress and model?”
“I want to make sure you are paying attention before I model. Are you ready to see me, model? "
His eight-inch member rose a bit more in rapt attention. I turned around and told him to pull down the dress zipper my husband recently pulled up. Un-zipped, I turned to face him, slid the dress past my shoulders and let it fall around my shoes. Hushed, he stared at the panty, garter belt, nylons, and the satin bra, his “gifts”. He inched to eight plus.
Stepping out of the dress, I bent over, picked it up and draped it over the other chair in the room. I went to the bathroom. My heels clicked on the tile floor.
With a large towel, dampened in warm water, I approached the bed with cross-steps to undulate hips. I hushed any comment from him with an index finger to my lips. It was time for action, not banter.
“Sit up straight on the bed's edge. Good, spread your legs and knees but keep your heels on the floor. Good, now with your feet flat on the floor, lay back, stare at the ceiling and spread your arms up on the bed. Good boy. Don’t move while I prep you.”
I knelt between his parted legs and bathed his pubic area with the towel. Like his chest, it was hairy turf in need of mowing. For now, I swayed his erection about in wonder. He tried to rise but I pushed him back and warned again to behave and follow instructions.
I revealed what Edward taught me about male anatomy. Teasing him to the brink, I stood up. All his doubts were gone. There was no banter, wisecracks, or resistance, only anticipation.
I stepped out of the panties. With shoes, bra, garter belt, and nylons on, I climbed on the bed, ready to mount my steed. I pulled a condom out of its packet, tore open the foil, centered it on his member, and rolled it down to the end of the shaft. He took it all. He moaned, "No way, no way" while pleading into my eyes to let him up and do me fast. Instead, I commanded.
” Stop pestering. Cobra’s doing the modeling, not you.”
He wasn't thinking about the price of perfume, dress, shoes, or lingerie now. I squatted down and straddled him, his erection my saddle horn. I guided his sheathed penis in and nestled down.
"Okay cowboy I’m ready to ride. We’re going to see how this bronco bucks out of the chute and once broken to gallops to my spurs."
He tried little jerks up against my orders to stay still. He wanted out of the chute. I whispered to be a good horsey, follow directions, and stay still until I told him to buck.
With my high heel spurs tucked under his ankles, I directed his hands to my buttocks.
"Chute’s open! Buck me off your saddle!”
He bucked uncontrollably as if a real bronco. I hugged his neck to avoid falling off, rode him hard, and egged him with slaps of my free right hand. I wished I had a crop to whump him faster. Soon his spastic bucking broke to a galloping rhythm as he exclaimed repeatedly.
"No way!" "No way!" "No way!"
In a frenzy, we climaxed together.
I coaxed as he spewed and then sputtered out his manhood.
“Whoa! Whoa, cowboy whoa. That’s a good horsey. "
I had a great ride, hopped off, laid next to him, and kicked off my shoes.
After we stopped perspiring and our sweat had evaporated or been absorbed by the sheets we bantered. Soon I could feel his penis swell up again, not as big as before but big enough; he was ready to ride again, broken in but able to gallop as the rider instructed.
I rolled back and spread my legs. He hopped out of bed.
“Here are your shoes, put them back on.”
“No, here’s the condom package, put one on.”
He fumbled about in his haste. I took it from him, tore one open, and watched him roll it on. I laid back as I guided my pelvis to galloping gait, broken in but still a steed. I scratched his back with my nails in climax to brand him as mine for his wife to see, if she cared to look.
Spent, he looked at me perplexed as we laid apart, worried about how his back looked. I said.
“You’re not an Italian lover.”
“No, no, I’m an Italian lover. How do you like Italian?”
“You got a big penis but a cold heart, you’re not real Italian, maybe Sicilian."
“No, no, I’m Roma Italian; my heart’s Italian.”
“Your heart’s cold, cold heart, super penis, Sicilian Italian, you’re like Spumoni ice cream. You’re Supini, Mr. Supini.”
He loved the tag. Thereafter he was Mr. Supini. We’d been in the room for an hour. I got up, gathered my clothes, went to the bathroom, used a wet towel to clean up and dressed. I twisted open the vials of shampoo and conditioner and tore open the soap bars so they passed the "maid can take home" requirement.
While I re-applied lipstick, he asked if I was satisfied, as if he was a great lover and I should be grateful.
I turned from the mirror and asked, "Was it a half date?"
"When Cobra saw a dozen roses, she thought it could be a twelve".
I picked up my purse, walked toward the door but stopped in front of the table. I left the Champagne untouched but took two roses and the card which I read in the elevator and threw away in the lobby. It was trite, saying how much he wanted to meet me. He’d met me. He wasn’t going to forget me.
I arrived home just before ten. Hubby asked how the meeting went. I told him the engineer just wanted to brag about a new eight RAM mega chip and I’d left early. Aroused, he wanted to have me with the garter belt and nylons on. I took them off, showered and said he could have it in the morning. He tossed and turned all night. Bright and early he laid rear spooned next to me. I turned over, spread my legs open, and let him have it, pleased with my successful mission.
Afterward Enrico and hubby pestered me to wear the nylons and garter belt. They were too complicated. I threw them away and told them I’d get a set for them to wear and make love to.
Author Notes: Out of control a wife plans to have an affair while taming a pushy engineer to act the way she wants.