Chapter 29

The AFL regular season had finished in late August, so the usual end-of-season functions made their annual appearance, and I had plenty of speaking engagements to keep me busy and my mind off the next ten-plus months before my date with the beautiful Isla Monie.

I hosted a lunchtime event for The Aspley Hornets on Friday, the fourth of September. Because The Hornets were only a small club, I only charged them some gas money to come over and host the fundraiser they’d asked me to attend. I used to do these events for free, but it seemed to make the various committees uncomfortable if they didn’t pay at least something, so I typically asked for forty dollars to cover my petrol costs.

After the lunch event wound down, I spent some time schmoozing with the committee and sponsors and deftly deflecting various blatant flirts. Once again, I was surprised that not only did these men expect their wives and daughters to flirt with me, but they seemed to encourage it. There was one twenty-something woman, a daughter of the major sponsor, who was pretty and intelligent enough for me to give a second glance. As her father seemed to be proudly watching her overt attempts to flirt, I briefly wondered what he’d do if I threw her on the table, ripped her knickers down, and began fucking her.

Disengaging myself from her latest effort to drape herself over me, I walked over to her father and introduced myself, “Liam Shephard,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Ken Livingston,” he responded as we shook.

Nodding towards his daughter, I said, “She’s very forward, considering I’m a married man.”

“Ah, Mish just likes to flirt, Mister Shephard,” Ken replied. “She doesn’t mean nothing by it.”

‘Mish (short for Michelle, I learned later) means plenty by it,’ I thought but didn’t say. ‘If her cunt were any hotter against my leg, she’d leave burn marks!’

Getting home, I was surprised to find the house empty, but Ness had left a note saying she’d gone shopping and would be back with dinner around 6.00 pm.

‘Good time to call Isla,’ I thought. So dialling the Monie residence, I settled into my armchair and relaxed.

I was still chatting with Isla when Vanessa returned carrying several plain black plastic bags.

Saying goodbye to Isla, I raised a questioning eyebrow at my wife and asked, “Ness, what on earth have you got there?”

Vanessa blushed. I mean, WTF? My wife never blushes! And replied, “Something for tomorrow night. Now, Mister Liam, no more questions unless you want to be in the dog house! You said you weren’t getting home until at least seven, so you weren’t supposed to see the packages!”

Knowing which side my bread was buttered on, I bit my tongue, forced my questions down, smiled, and said, “Then I shall pretend I haven’t seen you and wait until you come back from wherever you’re going to hide these bags.”

“Good Liam,” Ness teased.

“I’ll ‘good Liam’ your ass, young lady,” I threatened.

Oh, promises promised, Mister Liam!” Vanessa responded airily. Then she added, “The boys are away for the weekend, so there’s only you and me for dinner. I left it in the car. Will you go and get it while I put these things away, please?”

Walking out to the car, I retrieved the ribs and pizza Ness had bought from the eponymously named Wynnum Ribs and Pizza. When I returned, Ness waited at our kitchen table, so I fetched some plates and sat with her to share our meal.

One of the things I like most about my wife is that she loves her food. There is no ‘salad-eating, skinny bitch’ about her. She ate pizza, ribs, steak and virtually everything else with gusto and enjoyed every bite.

Of course, it helped that she exercised for at least an hour daily and ran around forty kilometres weekly. Also, although my wife isn’t in the bodybuilding class of Ellen Monie, she is ripped. Vanessa can readily bench press over 80 kg (176 lbs) and deadlift 40 kg more than that. Plus, although she can’t keep up with me for much more than five kilometres (three miles), Ness can manage slightly more than four-minute-thirty kilometres (seven and a half-minute miles) for that long.

To say that I’m proud of my wife is the understatement of the century, as I am genuinely in awe of her. Plus, when you add in that she chooses to submit to me, loves me taking extraneous lovers and is sexually promiscuous herself, then, as you can see, I am the luckiest guy on this planet.

After we’d eaten, I asked, “What do you want to do with the rest of the night?”

Arching her eyebrow, my wife replied, “Well, let me see. Our boys are away for the weekend, and I’m off work until Tuesday, so what do you think I want to do?”

“Play cribbage?” I teasingly asked.

Laughing, Ness replied, “Actually, we haven’t played for ages, so why don’t we play strip cribbage?”

“Strip cribbage?” I asked doubtfully. “How does that work?”

“Whoever moves their marker the least after every hand has to remove a piece of clothing, plus an extra piece every time one of us reaches home first.”

It sounded like fun, so I agreed, and Ness and I were soon engaged in a battle to make the other naked. I’d taught my wife to play, so I had a natural advantage over her, and soon had her starkers whilst still wearing my pants, underwear, socks and shoes.

“No fair!” Ness groused. “I’m naked, but you’re mostly dressed. So what do we do now?”

Smiling evilly, I replied, “Instead of removing a piece of clothing, you have to do whatever I want for sixty seconds.”

Ness quickly agreed, so I reset the board and dealt the cards. I immediately won the first hand, so as Ness looked at me expectantly, I grinned and ordered, “Clean up our dinner mess and put everything in the dishwasher.”

Gritting her teeth, Vanessa complied.

I also won the next hand, and Ness looked at me hopefully rather than expectantly this time, so suppressing another grin, I said, “Put a load of laundry on.”

“Asshole!” She spat but still did as I asked.

I regularly won over the next few minutes, only losing a shoe and sock to making my wife do several small but irritating chores. Finally, Vanessa won two hands in a row, and I lost my other shoe and sock. However, on the next hand, my marker reached home, so I placed my hand under my chin and tapped its cleft with my forefinger, trying to look thoughtful and mused, “I think winning a round should earn more than a piece of clothing or task, babe, don’t you?”

Knowing I was teasing her, Ness grinned and asked, “What do you think it should earn?”

I replied, “I would suggest losing the rest of your clothing, but as you’re already naked, that wouldn’t work, and I hold a distinct advantage by still being mostly clothed, so why would I give that up if you happen to fluke winning a round? So, let’s do this: If the loser is naked, they must do whatever the winner wants until the task is complete, or five minutes is up, whichever comes first.”

“Aren’t I already doing that?” Ness complained.

“Yes, but only for sixty seconds. For a round win, I get five minutes of you doing whatever I command.”

“You get?” My wife queried. “What do I get if I win a round?”

Suppressing a grin, I replied, “Well, before you lost all your clothes, a round win counted the same as a hand win, so until I’m naked, it seems only fair that a piece of clothing is all I have to lose, too.”

“Okay, Mister Liam,” Ness growled. “What is it that you want me to do for the next five minutes?”

I patted the table before me and said, “Sit your pretty bottom here, put your feet on the chairback behind me and masturbate until you cum, or the five minutes is up.”

“You know it takes more than five minutes from cold for me to pop, asshole,” Ness bitched. “So after five minutes, I’ll be hot to trot and have to sit back down!”

I tried to project a disdainful attitude as I said, “And I care, why? Thems the rules, Macca,” I continued. “Well, unless you’re backing out on me?”

Still muttering angrily, Vanessa walked around, climbed onto the table before me, put her feet on the chair on either side of my shoulders, then spread her already flushed pussy lips and began diddling her clit.

“There!” She bitched. “Happy now?”

However, I could see her ready arousal in her flushed clit and pussy lips, and her hooded eyes and growling voice, so I barked, “About fucking time you obeyed me, my cock sucking, cum guzzling, wannabe cunt munching, dirty anal whore! Now cum for me before I have to slap your smelly whore’s twat!”

“OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! FFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK, LIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!” Ness shrieked as her vulva fluttered open and shut, her juices pulsing out in time with the racks of her almost violent orgasm. Then shuddering with orgasmic aftershocks, Ness sank back on the table as her knees shook and her hips bounced on the table.

Not waiting for her orgasm to subside, I leant forward and pushed two fingers inside my wife’s pussy, then hooked them back and scraped my nail across her G-spot as I simultaneously used my thumb to pull back her clit’s hood before lowering my mouth onto her clit and gently biting it.

“OH, FUCK! OH, FUCK! OH, FUCK!” Ness gasped as she flip-flopped across the table, all body control lost as orgasm after orgasm blasted through her. Then she began to mumble, “In me, in me. I must have you in me. Liam, please, I’ll beg if I have to, but I need you in mEEEEEEEE NNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOWWWWWW!!” Her mumbles turned into a wail as my scraping finger and swirling tongue drove another orgasm from her.

Eager to fulfil my wife’s request, I dropped my remaining clothes and climbed onto the table before moving between her lasciviously spread thighs and pushing forcefully into her cunt, my pelvis hitting Ness’ clit, as I fully sheathed my cock, in one firm shove.

Ness’ nails raked my back viciously as she shrieked in my ear, “Fuck me! Fuck me! For FUCKS SAKE, FUCK ME!!!!”

I put my hands on the table beside Ness’ head and pushed back, arching my back and lifting my chest off my wife’s tits. Then, moving my hand to her throat and pretending I’d choke her, I moved my other hand onto Ness’ breast and dug my fingers into it as I began pounding into her with everything I had.

Ness’ nails continued to rake across my back as I hammered my cock into her gaping cunt. The only relief from her howling orgasms I got was when she bit my neck as hard as she could. Eventually, Vanessa sagged onto the table, her hips only feebly raising to meet my thrusting cock, so I unlocked my restraint and almost immediately squirted my man juices into her already sopping pussy, overfilling it and forcing the excess to squeeze back out around my shaft.

Struggling not to collapse onto my wife’s prone body, I forced myself back onto my feet, lifted Ness onto my chest and carried her to our shower.

Vanessa woke as I stepped into the shower and smiled languidly up at me as she stroked my jaw, “And here I thought I was playing you,” she lovingly admitted. “But all the while, you were playing me.”

“Either way,” I teased. “You were still getting my cock in one of your slut holes!”

“No point in playing otherwise,” my wife shrugged as she wriggled, wanting to stand.

I let her down, and she took a scrubber, poured liquid soap onto then encouraged me to turn around. Then seeing my scratched and bleeding back, she gasped, “OMFG, Liam! Did I do this to you?”

Chuckling, I replied, “Well, unless the neighbour’s cat came over to investigate your shrieking and jumped on and did it, then yes, my love. You did that to me.”

Blushing, Ness admitted, “I got even louder than normal for a bit there, didn’t I?”

“Yup,” I confirmed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops knock on our door either with a noise complaint or a safety check. The neighbours probably reported me fucking you to death!”

“Instead, your back looks like I tried to exsanguinate you.”

I turned to face her, and she saw the massive welt on my neck where she’d bitten me. Touching it, she marvelled, “I don’t even remember doing either of these things, Liam. You must have had me well and truly wound up!”

“Calling you dirty, even disgusting, names seem to do that to you, babe,” I pointed out. “I wonder why that is?”

“I don’t really know, baby,” Ness replied. “I think hearing you calling me those things kind of gets me in the right mindset to be like what you’re calling me. But the best part is that I know you don’t think those are actually me. It’s just role play.”

“I know we agreed never to ask about the other’s dalliances, my love,” I queried. “But you’re not like that when you’re with them?”

Vanessa shook her head, “You’re the only one that can ignite my inner slut like that. I’m passionate with my dalliances, but I’d never let them spank me or even rough my tits as I do you, and I’d certainly never let them tie me up!”

‘Interesting,’ I thought. I’d assumed that my wife’s sexual escapades with others would be an extension of how she was with me. So I thought —loud passion and almost roughhouse play like we often indulged in when our passions flared. But it sounded like they were more of a romantic tryst than a physical coupling. I wondered if that didn’t actually make me a little jealous. Loud passion was just fucking, but if she was making love with her dalliances, I wasn’t happy about that!

As if she could read my mind, Ness added more information, “It’s not like us when we make love, baby. It’s about the sheer joy of sharing your body with wanton abandon with an almost total stranger and the thrill it gives me. I’m just not slutty with them as I am with you.”

Feeling better, I took the scrubber from my wife and carefully washed her bits until she had a soft orgasm, then took her to bed to make slow passionate love until we heard the birds announcing the dawn.

I woke around 10.00 am to the delicious smell of bacon cooking. So, stretching and yawning, I took my piss fat to the en suite and forced it down to pee before jumping in the shower. The wet glass and floor showed that my wife had already showered. Then, wearing only my briefs because I knew Ness liked to perve on me, I made my way to the kitchen.

When I got there, Ness was bringing hash browns out of the oven. Looking me over with an appreciative eye, she said, “Nice!”

All Vanessa had on was the tiniest of thongs, so my response was instant, “Same right back at ya, gorgeous!”

Ness grinned, then put the tray down on the stovetop and flexed for me, the muscles on her neck, shoulders, arms, torso, thighs and calves all clearly delineated in the kitchen light. Her breasts stood proudly from her chest as the muscles clenched on her chest.

My mouth dry, I stumbled out, “Wow! Babe, you’ve obviously upped your exercise levels. What are you pressing now?”

“85 kg (187 lbs).”

“Deadlift?”

“130 kg (287 lbs).”

“More than twice your weight?”

Proudly smiling, Ness replied, “Yup!”

Trying to quell the imminent erection I felt stirring in my groin, I asked, “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“You’re going to help me clean the house from top to bottom, then fuck off until 7.00 pm,” Ness answered, smiling.

“How come?” I asked, meaning the ‘fuck off’, not the cleaning part. As a thoroughly modern male, I shared the house and garden chores equally with my wife.

“I told you to keep tonight free, yeah? You remember?” I acknowledged with a nod. “Then, when you get home at seven, you’ll know why. If you go to the gym, ensure you shower and change before you come home.”