Revenge is sweet.
‘I have a strange request. It will strike you as odd, but I can’t make love unless it’s quiet and the lights are switched off.’ After typing the words into the chat, I exhaled and waited. A few seconds transformed into an easy minute.
‘I’ll be happy to accommodate you in any way I can,’ he typed, followed by a smiling emoticon.
‘Can’t wait to taste you,’ I replied.
After that, it escalated into the usual dirty textual intercourse, the kind that moistened my pants to the extent that I now travelled with a second pair of knickers each day.
Ten minutes later, In the staff cafeteria on the third level, I bumped into Grace, my cohort and confidante.
“What happened, what happened?” she exclaimed. Her red bobbed hair shook as she nodded. “Spill!”
“I can verify that we only fuck via cables and servers,” I said. Irritated, wet and horny, my first thoughts gravitated towards castrating my husband Noah.
“C’mon Molly, you’ll work it out,” she soothed, before suggesting a fattening muffin.
Textual Intercourse
‘Yes, I’ll meet you,’ I typed into the app the next day, ‘but it’ll have to be tomorrow night. I told my husband I’d be attending a colleague’s leaving party and he swallowed it. Text me the room number; I’ll be outside the door. As arranged, kill the lights and no talking during the ‘dance’. I can’t wait to touch you.’
I pressed ‘send’, sat back and sighed, thinking back a fortnight to the morning I’d first noticed my marriage was unravelling. I’d watched Noah sip his orange juice at breakfast, his eyes scouring the Financial Review, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the juice slid down this throat.
“Well, look at this. They’re going to prosecute the bastard,” he’d muttered.
“That’s nice,” I’d managed to say as I buttered my toast. I was in a flimsy black lace teddy and he found the recent downfall of an insider trader more interesting.
“I’ve got to be off. See you after,” he said casually, bending over to issue the ever-formal peck on the cheek.
“Haven’t you noticed something?”
“What?”
My eyes searched his face. His returned my glance and his slightly unruly dark eyebrows rose.
“Take a second look,” I said, slightly crestfallen.
“That’s pretty, very nice. How much did it set us back?”
“I don’t shop every day or even every other day!”
“I’m only joking. Calm down.”
“Go!”
“See you later.”
I still had a short while to go before I needed to set off, so I trudged off to the living room and browsed my book collection. I didn’t really feel like reading but an old book caught my eye, the type of book one buys for its uniqueness but rarely reads. The sofa hugged my half-naked body as I flicked through pages of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War and stopped on a sentence that tweaked my mental nipples.
“In war, then, let your great object be victory, not lengthy campaigns.”
I nodded in agreement with the sentence, although I couldn’t assign it to anything personal, at least not until I finished browsing online at work later that afternoon. After two book purchases on Amazon, I decided to check our joint email account, a task I hardly bothered with, as I never received emails on it and neither did Noah.
But this time there was one mail. ‘Hey Lover,’ was the subject header. The body read, ‘Dear SirX, Thought I’d say hi and tell you how much I adore your cock, especially when it’s ramming my c**t from behind. Can’t wait until next time. Let’s try the Rialto Inn. I’ve heard it has great king sized orgy beds. XX Tina’s pussy (lol).’
My head spun and both knees felt transformed into jelly. I left work early and tried to distract myself with play time, using my favourite vibe. Each bead whirred as it stroked my desperate clitoris, working me into a lather, but the moment, tainted by the email, morphed into an infernal bonfire of anger.
Winning At All Costs
“To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.”
After the discovery of that day, I did think about whining to my friends, but decided that it would prove a futile exercise. Noah, within the plush confines of his office at Mayer, Hawke and Spielman, was tapping away at his keyboard and producing scorching sentences that bagged him pussy. Why couldn’t I do the same – with him? Taking a leaf out of the superhero manual, I decided to create a guise, as all superheroes do. Humiliated, vilified, browbeaten and disrespected, they’re like overstretched rubber bands. When each hero snaps back, the world takes notice. But what mask to use? After a few days of shuffling paper from one pile to the next, an idea burst through. I logged into Red Hot Blue Chat as ‘BMW’ and loitered there until I saw the stud muffin log in. It wasn’t long before he spotted me.
‘New?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘You drive a BMW?’
‘I wish. It stands for Big Magic Woman.’
‘Interesting.’
‘Are you big?’
He replied with a winking emoticon, and I knew he had nothing to hide. Even I had to admit that Noah had a sturdy cock. Through further chat I provided my vital statistics, sexual preferences and fantasies, which led us into the realm of cybersex.
‘Tie me up,’ I begged him one afternoon spent hunched over my laptop.
‘Mmm, arms against the bed rail, legs spread wide. I’m licking your inner thighs, teasing you,’ he replied promptly.
In the space of thirty minutes he whipped my juices into a shake, tongue fucked me and drove me nuts, stroking my G-spot until I climaxed against his lips; all without even touching me. My skin prickled. I looked down at my forearms and saw each fine hair stand on end. Heat flooded my groin and I sensed, as I sat at my workstation, my throbbing labia. Needing release, as images twirled through my mind, I rose out of my chair and escaped to the bathroom. Within the quiet cubicle, I leaned against the door and hiked up my skirt, all the while mentally reciting as much of the text as I could.
‘My fingers are coated with your hot juices.’
Pulling my panties to one side, my finger lightly traced my inner labia. Surprised to be soaked over a bunch of typed words, I slipped my middle finger inside me to the hilt. I stopped and squeezed my pelvic floor. Each rhythmic contraction of my pussy hugged my finger and sent me into overdrive.
‘Your snatch is on fire. My two fingers are deep inside you, fucking you.’
Shifting towards the toilet, raising one leg, my index finger dived in and joined its colleague. A frictionless slide, deep and shallow thrusts equally merged throughout the ride. Pulling out of myself, I buttered my slit as my hips gyrated. No time to hold back to extend the delicious torture, my fingers danced over my bursting clit, rubbing it in many directions until a starburst jerked my body, slamming it against the door.
Arriving home, to an empty house, I saw that I had one message on the answer machine.
“I’ll be home later. I’ve got a few briefs to prepare.”
“Fine Noah, peachy,” I said to the television. As the early evening darkened, I showered and slid into my bed – alone.
The next morning, the ritual continued. More orange juice, followed by the Financial Review and the annoying peck on the cheek. At work, my lunch hour included a hot climax. I changed into a fresh pair of knickers and continued until afternoon tea, when I logged into the chat room to suck Noah’s cock, let him knock on my backdoor – as his two fingers frolicked inside my throbbing c**t – and returned to the bathroom to ignite my inner core and unleash the demon. From that point on, Noah knew me as Izzy, an insane variation of my middle name – Zelda.
Playing Games
So finally, this was the moment. My knuckles tapped on the door, alerting him to my presence. Dressed in a simple sleeveless dress, without underwear, I stepped aside until he unlocked the door. Room 301 appeared plush. The foyer, decked out in cool black and gray marble, entranced me. The door opened and darkness greeted me.
Each item of furniture, veiled in black, disappeared as I allowed myself in. His faint footsteps receded and I assumed he sat on the bed. As my eyes adjusted, Noah transformed into a silhouette. Sitting, with one leg crossed over the other, he watched me walk towards him. I stood in front of him and his breath fanned my inner thigh.
“I’m going to take your dress off,” he softly whispered.
His hands burrowed between my legs as I raised my dress to my hips. Darkness hovered as his lips brushed the skin of my right inner thigh. Noah decided to stand; his hands clung to the hem of my dress and raised my dress up and over my head. A shiver spread down my thighs and arrived at my bare calves; his fingers lazily stroked the back of my right thigh and his lips brushed my dampening sex.
“Tasty.” His tongue traced the groove between my labia and began its slow trek through each slippery fold.
“Mmm.”
Noah, immersed in his fever, continued to play me like a stringed instrument. Each moan that erupted through my throat buoyed his ardour.
“Nice, so nice,” he murmured, and I agreed. It had been month or more since I’d felt his finger up my snatch, so I parted my legs and enjoyed the rollicking ride.
“Ohhh.”
“I like that,” he mumbled, between sips. His soft wet lips returned to my slit and continually devoured my searing sex. He pulled me down onto his lap and my mouth sought his neck. Riveted by his rigid cock, I embraced it within me and rode him until my breath became his. We kissed, as my pussy clenched his cock, and his breath, in fits and starts, rasped against my skin. The eruption, on the near horizon, took place as I’d imagined. Noah’s body shuddered, his pelvis jerked forwards, as did his cock, and I received him in all his glory before I climbed off and went for the bedside light.
“I can’t wait to look at you,” he said in a near swoon.
Let there be light, I thought.
Illumination
One click and I thought Noah needed a little Glycerin under his tongue.
“What the …” he squawked, his eyes bugging out.
“Hello darling,” I managed to chirp.
His face froze into a ruddy mask. “You tricked me!”
“You’ve tricked me for months and months. A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do,” I managed to say, quite calmly, considering.
“I don’t know what to say,” he spluttered.
I lay against the pillows and eyed my errant husband. A lengthy interlude enveloped us.
“So, what did you think of tonight?”
“That it was the best ever,” he says. He looked at me intently. “Will you ever forgive me?”
“I’ll need time.”
“Anything you want,” he replied as I stared at the ceiling. Whether a new beginning or end, it was an experience we’d never forget.
“The art of war is of vital importance to the State.”
