After work, I awoke hubby and paraded n him the dress and shoes before his first groggy eyes. His awake response was.
I didn’t reply. I added a dab of Shalimar and lifted the front of the dress hem. He pulled me onto the bed and took me with the dress and shoes on. After he finished, I got out of bed careful not to soil the dress, hung it in the closet and put the shoes underneath. Arousing him wearing them and having him take me in them before Enrico did was my act of faithfulness. Guilt placated, I was back in the adultery saddle, free to break in a new steed.
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, 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 which was confirmed later on. Once my tea was finished, I swung toward him, got off the stool, gave him a nice 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 to me."
He flushed but didn’t retort, his relief at no jewelry purchase agenda 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 garnered 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 as he glanced furtively at my legs as the escalator rose. At the second floor landing he loosened up when I entered the lingerie section.
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 sleep wear to escape. I called him back.
"Do you see anything you want me to wear?"
I held an expensive bra of satin up to my bodice He nodded acquiesce. I gave it to him to hold and moved to panties. There, I held different pairs in front of my hips for him to choose from. He selected a nylon bikini with lace simply by nodded embarrassment.
Holding my selections, he was sheepish, thinking what next? I picked up a garter belt and sheer nylons and announced.
"We’re done, I got the nice things needed for our date."
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 your 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 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 your 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 and 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 aof a rodeo riders and how not to get bucked off.
Back 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. A whopper lie was safer.
He was inquisitive, swallowed the lie but remained suspicious as he tried to digest it. 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 set 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 my buttocks to him 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.
Out of the driveway, around the corner, away from hubby’s visibility, I felt the rush of freedom in the 914 Porsche experienced when young as my DeSoto drove off. Now it was freedom to slake adultery’s ego flattering addiction.
It was a half-hour drive to the San Jose Airport, Holiday Inn, a four-story structure, subsequently demolished and rebuilt as a mid-hi-rise. 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. Sitting in the lobby restroom on a stall toilet, I realized its adultery meeting place potential as I peed.
It’s location at the confluence of the Bayshore and Nimitz freeways provided convenient access. Its entrance driveway led to an enclosed parking lot screened from street's view by the surrounding hotel, restaurant, and lounge. Once you passed the entrance your car was concealed from the only street frontage, North First Street.
If seen by someone known, entering, or exiting, the need to use its restroom provided a plausible alibi. Proximity to San Jose’s Airport meant most guests were from afar. The greatest but highly unlikely exposure risk was recognition in an elevator or guest room corridor. If this occurred, the familiar face would be there for the same reason and both would pretend not to see the other.
Calculation of its affair potential sitting on the toilet reflected my subconscious libidinousness which knew what I didn’t admit, I missed subterfuge, and sex.
Once I left home, I drove fast in left lane of the Bayshore. My 10 O’clock return home was not the impetus. I sought what I missed, flattering, illicit sex.
Early, I parked a couple blocks distant to time my arrival five minutes late, then pulled in and parked near the front lobby, exited, and strode to the lounge. He sat in a secluded booth where he could observe those coming and going. I sat opposite him but said nothing, not even hi. Happy I wore the dress and shoes he’d bought but probably more because I even 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. You need polish."
The waitress came. I ordered a glass of white wine and he a beer which he drank out of the bottle. He stared at me intently, obviously an , a guppy flashing his tail colors. He asked.
"Why do you think I'm crude?"
"You quaff down your beer out of the bottle with a glass sitting in front of you. If you had polish, you’d take your time to pour it in the glass, enjoy watching it foam up and the beer let the beer’s scent of hops enter your nostrils as part of its taste ritual when you drink."
"What about you? Do you have class?
“If with a gentleman, I’m a class. act”
He poured the rest of his beer in the glass. We bantered until my wine was nearly gone, he impatient. I held my wine glass 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 were staying or leaving while he was delayed paying the bill. I stood between the elevators and the exit, turned and looked back at 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 the door of one opened immediately, as if to say, no more delays. I entered.
He rushed in behind, pushed three and we stared at each other as the car rose with my perfume and his after-shave comingling. When the door beeped opened on the third floor, I let him hold my hand and lead me down the corridor.
He stopped at room 314, took out his key, opened the door, and looked at me, unsure I would cross the threshold. He needn't worry. I boldly stepped in.
In the room, 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 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 throw them by the shoes, pulled his V-neck T-shirt over his head which revealed a hairy chest to offset his baldness. He was muscular trim, but the beginning of a beer belly was evident.
Telling him to sit up a bit, I bent down, and pulled off his jockey shorts and tossed them and his T-shirt next to the socks.
Sitting exposed, he was vulnerable before me, fully dressed. He stared at at me, his penis inflated, proclaiming its intention of my being its next conquest. I stared at me transfixed, his penis jumped alert. It impressed as it rose, but I made no comment. Erect it was the largest I’d seen but I’d only seen two. My husband's and Edward's were in the six to seven-inch range depending on their arousal. Enrico’s was definitely a circumcised eight.
He reached for me again, but I pulled back and told him,
“Sit still and wait. 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’re paying attention before I model. Are you ready to see me, model? "
His eight-inch member rose a bit more in rapt attention, his reply, 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 my 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. After 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.
"Okay cowboy I am ready to ride. We’re going to see how this bronco bucks and once broken in, gallops."
He tried little jerks up against my orders to stay still. My bronco 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. Ready to ride, I exclaimed.
"Chute’s open! Let’s see if you can buck me off the saddle!”
He bucked uncontrollably as if a real bronco. I hugged his neck with my left arm to avoid falling off, rode him hard and egged him with slaps of my free right hand. To his torso I wished I had a crop to whump him faster. Soon his spastic bucking broke to a galloping rhythm as he exclaimed repeatedly.
It was like my first orgasm imagining escaping on a galloping horse with Marlon Brando in the movie, One Eyed Jacks.
I With my forehead pressed to his, I egged his gallop along.
“Go, cowboy go, faster cowboy, faster!"
In a frenzy, we climaxed together.
Drenched, he a broken in gentle pony, I pulled off his drooping penis saddle, rolled off, my steed, laid next to him and kicked off my spur shoes. I looked at the ceiling and reflected.
He is great, not as a lover, he’s a great ride.
After we stopped perspiring and our sweat had evaporated or been absorbed by the sheets we bantered. Soon I his penis firmed up again, not as big as before but big enough; he was ready to ride again, broken in but ready to gallop as his rider instructed.
I rolled back and spread my legs. He hopped out of bed. “Here’s 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 and let him gallop me into the bed, now horse broken but still a steed. I scratched his back with my nails in climax to brand him for his wife to see if she looked.
Spent, he looked at me perplexed as we laid apart. I think he was 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. How about you’re Mr. Supini?”
He loved the tag and thereafter he was Mr. Supini.
Fitting to his lack of imagination he never asked if my love box had a name tag or attempted to tag it himself. He assumed Cobra was simply my nickname.
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 were 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. Now 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 in a hurry. 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 and bright and early rear spooned next to me. I turned to him and let him have it, pleased with my successful mission.
Afterward, Enrico and hubby pestered me to wear the nylons and garter belt again. 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.