He Owns My Wife (2 page)

“Mick’s going to have serious trouble keeping his hands off you” I say softly.

“Mmm, not too much trouble I hope” she smiles without taking her eyes from the mirror.

I move towards her and to try to take her in my arms but she gently pushes me away.

“Hey!” she says, leaving me with the scent of her
Coco Channel
still in my nostrils. “You’ll mess me up! I need to get my party dress on over these then we’ll have to get going!”

She shoos me out of the room with long slender fingers and closes the door behind me.

As we drive across town the sky is heavily overcast and dark, threatening torrential rain. We don’t talk much on the 20 minute journey, except for when she slaps my hand off her thigh as I pretend to try to get it up the front of her little dress while I drive.

Eventually Lisa directs me down a side street and I pull up at a white building where a couple of middle-aged guys in jeans and sweat shirts stand around the entrance smoking. They look over at our car.

I kiss Lisa then look right into her eyes and say: “You look absolutely gorgeous. I think your boss is going to get a birthday he won’t forget” She kisses me again and tells me she loves me.

“Have a good time – and make sure the birthday boy does too. I’ll be desperate to hear all about it later.” She smiles and tells me she’ll see me soon.

At the door of the building she waves back then the smokers turn their heads to follow her and her ass into the building.

The plan is for me to drive to the retail park, pick up some groceries from the discount warehouse then grab some lunch while I wait for Lisa to text me around 4pm to pick her up. It’s hard to think straight though. How am I supposed to focus on shopping or anything else knowing what my wife may soon be doing? In front of her boss and a whole load of co-workers dressed only in her underwear, then... who knows what? What sort of reaction will a man like Mick have to seeing a woman like Lisa that way anyhow?

At the grocery store I rush through the dawdling crowds with their shopping trolleys to the customer toilets. Once inside a booth I bring myself off in a couple of tugs at the thought of her exposed to him, about the pleasure a man like that could give to my wife. Then with my mind cleared a little, I grab some of the essentials we need, pack them in the car and head to a coffee shop.

Once there, I’m trying hard to control my thoughts as I barely taste my Panini roll and double-shot cappuccino. Opposite me sit a couple around the same age as Lisa and I laughing at something together in between sipping their hot chocolates. I realise how hopelessly at odds their relationship looks compared to mine at that moment.

At last I can’t stand the suspense any more and abandon the original plan to wait until Lisa texts me and I head back through the darkening afternoon skies towards the bar.

My thoughts are spinning out of control.
What are we doing? Where is this going to lead?
Part of me wants to go and find my wife and pull her out of that place before it’s too late.

I ask myself again whether Lisa will actually go ahead with any of this. Then I begin wonder if she’s OK with what’s happening. My heart is hammering.

I
arrive back at the Feathers car park and leave my Ford out of sight behind a large white RV. I make my way past the door Lisa went in through earlier. I’m looking for a way round the outside of the building and down one side of it. Hopefully there’ll be a window I might be able to discretely see something through.

At the corner where the building ends I find a small alley-way between the Feathers and a laundry next door. With a hurried look in either direction to make sure no-one is watching me, I slip down the alley between these two buildings.

As quietly as I can, I make my way down alongside the neglected walls with their flaking paint and over bits of rubble, the odd discarded beer can and cigarette stub. This is obviously not a pathway used too often. I can vaguely detect the sound of a bass guitar, although not identify the song, from inside the building.

About half way down the passage I pass a “Fire exit” sign and door then reach two large windows with dark curtains obscuring what seem to be flashing lights inside. With a quick check back down the alleyway I move to examine the windows in front of me for any gaps in between the curtains.

To my increasing frustration I can’t find a single one.

Ahead of me the alley-way ends with a wall about 8ft high connecting both adjacent buildings. It’s a dead end. In front of the wall are some chest-high rubbish bins and a large bottle skip. I curse under my breath.

Suddenly, I hear a couple of loud bangs and realise the fire-door is being kicked from the inside.

Without thinking, I dart behind the bins and crouch down. I grimace and move my foot away from a discarded condom on the ground beside me.

The fire door has opened and light floods into the gloomy alleyway in front of it. Standing at the top of the steps in an open-necked white shirt and with a glass of half finished beer in one hand is a thick-necked, heavily built guy with tightly cropped grey hair about 6ft tall. Pretty much the way Lisa has described Mick.

He has the look of a head doorman that clearly still works-out but should have probably retired a few years back. He starts to step down into the alley when I see behind him, fully dressed in her little short black party dress, is my wife.

I’m holding my breath as I crouch here, suddenly aware that Mick is holding Lisa’s hand as he leads her outside.

My head feels like someone has it in both hands and is trying to crush it. Lisa carefully watches her own shapely legs and heels as they negotiate the steps down into the alley behind her boss. Her free arm raises a slender hand and dark painted nails move a lock of her long hair behind an ear. For a second it makes her gold hoop earring swing and it catches the light.

Once they’re both in the alleyway, Mick turns his back to the bins and faces my wife. He shoves the fire-exit doors together with a foot then moves Lisa away from the doors so that she is up against the wall this side of them. She smiles at him then looks down at the ground, her arms fidgeting a little awkwardly at her sides.

“You looked fucking hot in your underwear before” he tells her in a loud, deep voice.

“Hmm,” she says, without looking at him, “I bet you say that to all the girls” she tries to smile but still looks a little awkward.

“Well whatever, you’ve made one old man very happy on his birthday, I’ve got to tell you.” He says to my wife then asks: “Have you really never been with anyone else since you got married?” Then he answers his own question with: “What a fucking waste”

She laughs quietly then whispers something into his ear. Mick takes a big gulp of his beer then bends to sit it down on the floor alongside them.

When he’s back facing her he looks at her again then slowly takes a fistful of her thick blonde hair and pulls her head towards him. Lisa lets out a moan. “Oh,” he says, seeming surprised, “You like that do you?” I watch with my hand over my own mouth. Lisa’s eyes are closed and her lips slightly open.

Mick twists the handful of her hair and pulls her face right into his. She moans again and throatily he tells her: “You’re not so different from the rest of them then are you? Just a bit more uptight maybe.”

His hand is tangled so tightly in her hair that she’s grimacing a little now.

“You do know that only dirty girls like it rough don’t you Lisa. So what do you think that makes you – for all your airs and graces? ”

Without waiting for an answer he lunges forward devouring her mouth with his own.

Seconds later he yanks her head backwards to pull her away for a moment and she gasps loudly. Releasing her hair, Mick’s hands move behind her as he begins working on the zipper at the back of her dress.

“Your tits looked so good through your bra when you were stripped off before.” He tells her, lowering the zipper down her back as far as it will go. “Let’s have this dress off”. He orders her.

Squatting here by the bins I’m wondering whether what I’m seeing is actually happening. A gold bangle on Lisa’s wrist slides down her arm as Mick lifts the dress up over her head. Once again she’s displayed in just her panties, bra and heels for this man I don’t really even know.

The half cut balcony bra extends and presents her huge breasts to him almost obscenely in the circumstances.

Without taking his eyes from Lisa, Mick lets my wife’s dress fall from his hand to the floor at their feet.

“Take your bra off Lisa” he orders her, his voice firm though a little wheezy, betraying his own excitement.

She looks awkwardly at him and hesitates for a moment. “Come on...” he says, slowly grabbing her hair again in a clenched fist and raising his voice a little, “You might get away with being a little prick tease like that with your husband but you won’t with me. Especially not on my birthday”.

For a minute I wonder whether she’s doing this under duress, whether I should interrupt and try to put a stop to it.

“Hang on a second” she asks and he releases her hair again. Her arms move behind her back reaching for the clip of her black bra. I don’t know whether she’s nervous but it seems to take her a moment or two longer than when she normally removes it in the warmth of our bedroom at home.

She eventually unclips it for him and her arms return to her front, pressed against herself, covering her breasts and holding the bra in place, the black bra straps lying loosely on her shoulders.

“There’s no need to be shy about those babies.” He tells her. “They’re fuckin’ gorgeous and so are you“. His thick forearms move towards Lisa and he pulls her arms away from her chest and sweeps her opened bra off and away from her in one movement. It too falls to the floor and my wife’s bare 36” breasts bounce free in front of him, her nipples stiffened like ripe strawberries.

Mick studies her for a moment then slowly shakes his head. “Beautiful” he tells her.

Even though the late afternoon air is still warm I shiver and wonder whether Lisa, now almost naked, feels it or is too excited to care. This man, who was doubtless having sex years before Lisa was born, raises both open palms and then for a moment holds them still up against my wife’s breasts. His hands obscure her swollen nipples as he lets them lay there for a moment or two, seemingly savouring her firm warm flesh against his.

“Beautiful” he says again then gently rotates his palms on her breasts like some pornographic window-cleaner. Lisa’s eyes are closed and she’s sighing gently.

Abruptly, causing Lisa to gasp, he pushes her backwards up against the wall of the building. His hands are all over my wife’s tits, his knuckles tightening as he slowly but roughly mauls and works them. He has her pushed up so hard against the wall that she seems on the very tips of her toes in her heels. “Fucking lovely tits” he’s saying “Lovely”. Then his head lowers and his mouth is smothering her chest loudly sucking and kissing. His head bobbing and weaving like the boxer he once was, but in slow-motion.

Without warning he seems to kind of latch-on, and his head slowly pulls back up and away from Lisa making her move forward towards him, her breast stretching and a nipple snared between his grinning teeth.

Their feet scrape the gravel as Mick moves the position of them both in what looks almost like some sort of furtive, stuttering dance. Around one of his broad shoulders I briefly make out Lisa’s eyes, screwed tightly closed in contrast with her mouth which gapes open as if gasping for air.

Like a dog toying with a bone and with one of Lisa’s nipples still locked in place in his mouth, Mick moves his head slowly left then to the right. With each movement of his head Lisa lets out a little cry until he releases her nipple and she sinks back down from her tiptoes panting.

Suddenly his mouth is on her again making loud and obscene sucking noises on her young tits.

Here behind the bins, if it wasn’t for the musty smell of trash I’d think I was hallucinating. I feel I’m going out of my mind.

Without breaking from sucking and biting at Lisa’s breasts, one of Mick’s hands begins clawing at her g-stringed panties. As he’s doing so, the painted red nails on Lisa’s left hand stroke along the grey stubble on Mick’s head. Then as he starts to lower Lisa’s little lace thong over her creamy white hips she wiggles her body a little to help her boss ease the underwear I bought for her down over her curves. The little triangle of trimmed hair between my wife’s legs is revealed and I genuinely feel I might pass out.

Once he has Lisa’s panties peeled down as far as her knees he can reach no further and at last releases her nipple from his teeth.

“Take them right off” he orders her. I’m not sure why he needs her totally nude here in the alley but my wife isn’t questioning him. She bends forward and down then raises one long leg a little to get her panties over her heels and off.

The thong lies on the ground at Mick’s feet like a mini wreath of tiny dark flowers.

“Let’s have a good look at what you’ve been hiding” he says, stepping back to survey her.

She leans back against the wall as if needing it for support. She’s naked except for her heels, her hands by her side while Mick studies her, ostentatiously scratching his chin and smirking. He moves to one side to stroke down the side of one of her thighs and I become aware of a large, angry purple bite mark he’s left on her right breast.

I’m desperately trying to keep my breathing under control, trying to remain unheard. For a moment I wonder whether what appears to be stiffness in my wife’s reddened nipples is from feeling cold with no clothes on here, or arousal after the mauling Mick has given them.

Suddenly he raises his left hand and brings it down hard onto one of Lisa’s exposed breasts with a loud “CRACK!”

She cries out and he immediately does it again to her other breast causing her shoulders to slump forward and her breasts to jump indecently. Mick’s laughing and I’m panicking. I need to try to put a stop to this but then Lisa straightens herself up against the wall and I see the way she’s looking at Mick. Then one of her hands moves down between her own legs