Robert entered his house, briefcase under his arm, and yelled upstairs, "Megan, are you going out tonight or not?" He glanced up the stairs, waiting for a response, but heard none. "Honey?" he tried again, but still heard nothing from his wife's bedroom. Her jacket was folded on the dining room chair, so he knew she was still at home.
He put his briefcase on the hall table and checked his watch again, frowning when he saw it was nearly time for his "date" to arrive. Megan had usually left for her weekly bridge game by now, and Robert worried about what might happen if his wife delayed any longer.
He walked to the front door and opened it as quietly as he could, cringing as the rusty hinges squeaked in protest. He glanced down the street searching for Kelly's green Toyota and sighed with relief that it was nowhere to be seen. At least he wasn't going to have to answer any questions about why a stripper was making house-calls. He turned back inside and closed the door behind him with a thud.
"Robert?" Megan called down the stairs. "Is that you?"
"Could you grab my purse? It's on the living room sofa. It has Lori's phone number in it."
"Running late?" he called upstairs. Not waiting for an answer, Robert grabbed the bag, wondering for the thousandth time how much of the weight was unnecessary. It seemed far too heavy for a "necessities" bag. Oh well... such is woman.
"Here you go," he called out as he entered her bedroom. Megan turned, giving him a small smile.
"Put it on the bed," she said, turning back to the mirror. At the moment she was dressed, or nearly so, in a translucent beige slip and a white satin bra that, in Robert's estimation, did nothing to hide his wife's charms. As she turned, he saw the gentle movement of her breasts, nearly unrestrained even with the bra, as they jiggled and swayed against one another.
Robert stood in the doorway, watching the age-old female ritual, as his wife primped and preened, carefully watching her reflection for any obvious faults.
If asked, Robert would have admitted that he had married a beautiful woman. She was certainly easy on the eye, he thought, as he stared at the pale skin of her back, smooth and unmarked. His eyes traveled lower, over the swell of her hips and into the flare of her buttocks. He knew from past experience that during love-making, the cheeks of her ass were firm and pliant, and his cock twitched at the thought.
Down boy, he thought to himself with a sigh. He knew his marriage was destined for a quick appointment in front of a divorce court. He regretted it not for the inconvenience it would cause, for in the back of his mind he knew it would be an easy parting, but for the wasted years as man and wife.
He and Megan had produced no children, nor had they really tried. Their relationship had been born of loneliness and convenience and familiarity. He a school teacher, she a guidance counselor. He thought it ironic that neither of their chosen professions could have predicted, nor could they now save, the dismal failure that was their marriage.
"Were you waiting for something?" Her question jarred Robert from his thoughts, and he shook his head to drive them away. Soon, he thought. No sense dwelling on it. Focusing on his wife, now fully dressed in a simple skirt and blouse, he shook his head.
"No, sorry. My thoughts drifted for a moment." A quick check of the time revealed he had ten more minutes before disaster struck.
"In a bit." She frowned, noticing his intense gaze at his watch. "You watching after me?" she asked, more bitterness creeping into her voice than she'd intended. Stop it, she silently reprimanded herself. He lost interest long ago. No need to rub it in.
"Um... no... the game's on in a bit. Don't want to miss it."
She nearly snorted in derision. Always a game! Never me, she almost sighed, but quickly fought back the longing she sometimes felt, alone in her bed. No time for that.
Declaring herself ready, Megan picked up the purse and swept past her husband into the hallway.
"Turn off the light, okay?"
"Yeah. I'm heading down anyway."
As she searched through her purse, checking to see if everything was present, the phone rang. Robert answered on the second ring, while Megan paused at the door.
"Hello? Hey, how's it going... oh really... sure... a few minutes... not much..." Seeing his wife still standing at the door, Robert waved her away. Cupping his hand over the receiver, he whispered, "It's a buddy from work. Go ahead. I'll see you when?"
Megan mouthed that she would be back around eleven and, with one last look, closed the door behind her and headed for the garage.
"She's gone," Robert said, exhaling deeply. "Give her about five minutes, then come on in. I'll make sure the door's unlocked. I'll be in the study, so make yourself at home and call me when you're ready? And Kelly? Park around back this time. Okay? All right... see you in a few."
As he hung the phone back on the receiver, Robert felt his hand shaking. Making a fist to cut off the uncontrollable spasms, he let out a sigh. Just a few more minutes and my dick would have been in the fire, he thought. But I guess the thrill's part of the game.
Before he headed upstairs, Robert made one quick pass through the living room. He turned on the porch light, making sure the walk was clear and the front door unlocked, and went upstairs to get ready for his guest.
He's so fucking boring, Megan thought as she drove down the street. I know what I used to see in him, she thought, but the excitement's been gone for a long time. She supposed it happened to most of the people she knew, but actually looking forward to a divorce was an alien concept.
She checked the dashboard clock, which was blinking fifteen after eight o'clock in bright green numbers. She dug her cell phone out of her purse. Dialing quickly, she put the phone to her ear, steering the car with her other hand, and listened to the ringing.
After what seemed an eternity, the line was picked up, and an out of breath voice answered.
"Hello?" It was Lori.
"Little bitch," Megan teased. "Did you start without me?"
"You're late, slut. Hurry up. There's lots to eat tonight, so get your butt down here!"
"I'm hurrying, okay? I ran a little late tonight, but I'm on my way. Sheesh... try not to get your panties in a twist!"
"Honey... they've been gone for a long time." Laughing, Lori hung up.
Megan felt herself getting damp at the thought of a panty-less Lori and squeezed her legs together, putting as much pressure on her clit as she could. The thought of Lori's baby-smooth pussy always got her juices boiling.
I'll bet there's a lot to eat, she laughed to herself. You'll be the first thing I want to snack on.
Megan pushed down on the accelerator and the car jerked forward, speeding down the road.
As Robert changed clothes, he heard a door open and close downstairs, followed by the quiet sounds of someone ascending the carpeted staircase.
It's my buddy from work, he thought with a smirk. There was, as always, the momentary pang of guilt mixed with regret that his life had come to this point, but the anguish was quickly washed away with pure, unadulterated lust.
His work buddy was actually a nineteen year old stripper, although she looked much younger than her actual age. Her stage name, when she danced at The Onion (Watch 'Em Peel Away the Layers! was written in neon on the side of the cinderblock building), was Candy Apples, but to her teachers at Monroe College, she was simply Kelly Curtis, a sophomore economics major.
Robert had first seen Kelly at the bachelor party of a friend, and was instantly in lust. Her act consisted of dressing up in her Catholic schoolgirl outfit, then spending ten minutes taking it off. Pretty basic, a staple of any skin joint, but for some reason, Robert reacted passionately.
"My daddy would freak," Kelly told him in an unguarded moment. A small city in the midwest had been her hometown. The daughter of a pastor and school librarian, Kelly had lived a sheltered life, although not without excitement. Her first experience dancing had been in junior high, although in a fashion quite dissimilar to the bump and grind she had since perfected.
"I tell them I wait tables," Kelly revealed.
"Honey," Robert had answered as he slipped his cock in her steaming cunt, "If waiting tables is what you call it, then I guess you deserve every tip you get." He smiled, deep in thought.
Robert's reverie was broken by a thin cry from down the hall. He was instantly hard with anticipation, knowing full well what awaited him, but he forced himself to pause a moment.
"Yes, dear?" He knew the script, had in fact written it.
"Could you come here for a second?"
"I need to tell you something. You have to come here, though. It's a secret."
Robert stood quickly, adjusting his erection in his slacks, cursing himself for not having time to change into his own pajamas. It was much more fun when the fantasy felt completely true.
Right, he smirked. The fantasy of fucking my own daughter, a daughter I don't have, played by a nineteen year-old stripper named Candy Apples. That's pretty accurate, he laughed.
Nonetheless, twitching with excitement, he walked down the hall, cock leading the way, and knocked on the door to his wife's bedroom.
"Come in," came the quiet voice behind the door.
The door finally opened a crack, and a short woman with short curly hair peeked out.
.... There is more of this story ...