Book: Madeleine Plays: A Wife-Watching Romance

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Madeleine and Hugo had stayed at the W once on the Globe’s dime, a few years back, before Hugo had even popped the question.

The decor inside was somewhat different this time, but the atmosphere was similar, and the effect took him right back to those heady days when they were still merely boyfriend-and-girlfriend, feeling invincible with no hint that the dying newspaper industry would cast them out.

As he hovered at reception, trying to work out a strategy, he hoped this connection might have been a reason why Madeleine would set her role play adventure right here.

If, on the other hand, she was here to meet another man, she could have selected this place merely because it was a luxury hotel that she knew, and might make her feel most comfortable for the nervous step of actually breaking her marriage vows.

Safely obscured in among a crowd of tourists, Hugo considered—and then rejected—the idea of going up to reception to ask if they had a room booked under Madeleine’s name.

What if she wasn’t even using her real name?

He knew it was only a mental delaying tactic. He was tiptoeing around the edge of a deep, icy pool he was supposed to just jump straight into. There was going to be no shock-free way into that cold, cold water.

Quietly, keeping to the shadows—profuse in that hotel, with its dark nightclub feel designed for a young, trendy clientele—he ventured toward the bar.

Even as he approached the entrance, he could just about see a young blonde woman perched on a stool at the bar, wearing a dress that looked painted on.

Hugo caught his breath.

From behind, he could not completely confirm her identity, though his nerves were jangling enough that he felt confident it was her.

Madeleine was here, waiting in the bar.

But who was she waiting for?

Hugo felt his insides burning, his pulse racing, his loins tingling. He turned, checking to see if anyone else was approaching the bar at that moment—or if anyone had spotted his curious behavior hovering outside the entrance to the bar. It looked as though he was safe.

What to do next? He’d ascertained that Madeleine’s story about sleeping over with Lucy was false—and ergo, that Lucy was in on whatever little game Madeleine was playing.

The bar was surprisingly empty for a Saturday night. When they’d been here before, it had been mid-week, and very lively. Perhaps it just wasn’t cool to go out on a Saturday night when you were the kind of person who might frequent a hotel like this, or else it was too early in the evening. There were some people around—mostly seeming to be tourists, probably Midwesterners with their checked shirts tucked tidily into pale jeans, big sneakers adorning their feet, all wide-eyed over the amazing sights inside and outside this place. In fact, if anything, considering the other patrons, Madeleine looked out of place here.

God, she looked good.

It took him a moment to work up the courage to go over there. His fevered brain just kept wanting to consider the options—but there was really only one available. Walk confidently over there.

If she was there to meet him, he’d instantly show that he was up for whatever role-play situation she envisaged. If she wasn’t there to meet him, and it was to be confrontation at the bar, then he would do best appearing strong, assured.

Hugo took a deep breath and made a beeline for the bar and for Madeleine.


She’d been nervously watching the entrance for however long she’d been waiting—that much was clear to him as he approached, and saw that flick of her eyes toward him, at first not registering the recognizable sight of her husband, then on the second, she saw him.

And what was her reaction? A slight start, perhaps. Either as she attempted to hide her shock that it was her husband strolling through that entrance, and not her intended date, or perhaps because she hadn’t expected to see him in a suit.

“Hey,” she said, hopping off the stool to greet him.

Hugo’s semi-hard cock twitched in his pants. It wasn’t going to be semi-hard for long. She was wearing a black satiny dress that seemed molded to her skin, held over her shoulders by the thinnest of straps, the neckline plunging so deep that more than half of her breasts appeared visible, her nipples only just covered, yet prominent as they pushed against the thin satin material.

Her cleavage was heart-stopping in that dress. Hugo was willing to bet that any man who’d come near her that evening, while she was in this dress, would have found it hard to direct his eyes anywhere other than that shapely valley between her breasts.

Off the stool, he saw that the dress only just made it far enough down her legs to cover her behind and conceal her panties from his gaze. Her legs looked fantastic in the nylons that made him just want to sink to his knees and wrap her thighs around his head.

“You made it,” she said, and he took a deep lungful of her floral perfume—a different scent to any that she usually wore—before she kissed him softly on both cheeks.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” he said, as though he was definitely supposed to be there.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” she said, and the fact that she wasn’t either explaining why she wasn’t currently at Lucy’s apartment, or asking him how come he was here actually made Hugo feel a little better.

She smiled, running her eyes up and down him, taking in the smart suit, open-neck shirt. Then she said: “Actually it gave me just enough time to come up with an excuse for my husband, and persuade my best friend to help cover for me.”

Hugo nodded slowly. “Your husband…” he said, proceeding with caution, not entirely certain that Madeleine wasn’t merely making a little joke. “Does he have any idea you’re doing this?”

She shook her head, then perched back on her stool, showing him even more of her thighs. She nodded over to the bartender, who drifted over to top up her gin and tonic, and fetch a Bourbon and coke for Hugo.

“You know,” she said, “he actually has this fantasy of me dating another guy. Other guys, actually. He doesn’t seem too fussy.”

“Right,” Hugo smiled, feeling his ears burning, his heart fluttering as she talked about him in the third person.

She said, “We only talked about it recently. Funny thing is, I was already feeling this need to be a little more… you know… flirtatious with other guys. I’d forgotten how good it makes a girl feel.”

The bartender placed Hugo’s drink before him on the bar. He attempted to portray a picture of cool sophistication as he picked it up, focused on minimizing the tremor in his hand. But he badly needed the alcohol. It was everything he could do to stop himself simply throwing it down his throat.

“So why don’t you just tell him you’re here tonight, with me?”

She shrugged. “Seems a little insane, doesn’t it? Started out, I assumed he wanted me to go after some other guy because he was already cheating on me with someone else—or wanted to. Wanted to get rid of his guilt.”

“But he doesn’t want that, huh?”

“No, he doesn’t. I’ve come to see that—he’s just a voyeur. He gets off on watching, or even thinking about me in a sexual context.”

“Must be a good thing for a marriage.”

“I guess.”

“So you two are still… intimate?” Hugo found himself getting into the mindset of his character as dreamt up by Madeleine. But who did she want him to be?

“Oh yes,” she said. “Does that bother you?”

“Not at all. But you’re with me tonight, and you haven’t told him.”

She took a big sip of her drink, then looked him in the eye. “My husband might think he has a fantasy about me being with other guys, but I can’t risk our marriage. I have to see how he really feels about this kind of thing before I reveal to him that I’m in favor. Whether he actually can handle it.”

Hugo nodded. The words “reveal to him that I’m in favor” echoing and re-echoing around his head. God, that was both insanely exciting and the most terrifying thing he’d ever heard.

“So,” Hugo said, and he caught a hint of amusement in Madeleine’s eyes, that the role-play situation required him to act like his stranger character, not like her husband, in this startling situation. To stay in character, he had to conceal his emotions. “You’re going to sleep with another guy without telling him—so that you know for sure that he wants this?”

She shook her head. “So I know that I want this,” she said, now running the backs of her fingers down his thigh suggestively.

It was unsaid that this situation was about testing her husband, too. Because he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll want this,” Hugo said. Play-acted alpha male confidence ran through his veins.

“You will go easy with me?” she smiled, her nerves showing through. “I’ve never done this before. Without my husband, I mean.”

“You could ring him right now, tell him what you’re doing. You think he’d tell you to stop?”

She shook her head. “No. He’d probably be a little hurt I lied to him, but I don’t think he’d want me to stop.”

“And you can’t resist the thrill of a situation like this anyway.”

“I guess not.”

Quietly, she was rubbing her thighs together, biting her lip. Getting into the fantasy of being with another man.

“I like that,” he said, sipping his drink. “That you can’t control that need inside you.”

“You do?”

“It’s a blazing fire that can’t be contained,” he smiled, but as they finished up the last sips of their drinks, and slipped off those bar stools heading for the exit, he wanted to do more than just smile. He wanted to shout, scream, run for the hills.

He wanted to take his wife to a dark corner, push up her dress and slide inside her.

She said, “Would you think me awful if I suggested we should go try contain it right now?”


Why was he nervous?

“I don’t normally do this on a first date,” she said. “Just so you know.”

He was shivering a little as they rode the elevator up to the 23rd floor, and the air-con wasn’t even that outrageous.

“But you are,” he replied. “So that shows that your rules have some flexibility.”

Even though it was now confirmed as a role-play situation, and he knew no one else would be making love to his wife that evening, Hugo was shaking so visibly he had to lean against the rail to make sure she didn’t see it.

“I guess it shows I can be tempted if the right guy comes along.”

She was nervous too, he saw. Twirling her hair, swallowing frequently. Madeleine was apparently good at acting, at really immersing herself in a role-play situation, losing herself.

As the floor numbers reached the end of the teens, Hugo realized what it was that was causing most of his anxiety: this wasn’t just a fantasy situation, wasn’t just fooling around on a Date Night, taking time out from reality to pretend they were something else. This was Madeleine preparing herself to embrace her husband’s fantasy. This was Madeleine doing a final road test before actually sleeping with another man.

“Here we are,” she said, as the elevator slowed to a silent stop, and the doors opened onto a fairly narrow little corridor flanked by a vintage-style black and white flock wallpaper, in keeping with the chic design of the rest of the hotel.

“After you,” he said, and followed her out, and along to a room just a few yards down the small hallway. It wasn’t a big building in terms of floor plan, the W hotel. Just very tall, at 587 feet. Hugo had looked it up after their first time, when they’d had a room on the 35th floor.

As he followed her, he couldn’t help but run his eyes all over her. She looked so devastating in that dress. The way it sculpted her behind made him wince.

“You’ll like the view,” she said, slipping the room key into the slot at the door of room 2308.

“I like it already,” he joked, provoking a slight smile from her, though being in character she managed to contain the kind of eye-roll her husband might be afforded with such a line.

The room was impressive. Relatively small, but cozy in its designer furniture and decor—and Madeleine was right, the view was knockout stuff. He supposed that with this tower, every room in the place had an impressive view.

“You don’t mind if I freshen up a little?” she said, and when he nodded, stepped into the bathroom, leaving him to wander over to the windows, to take in the scenery. They were high up, though perhaps only halfway up the entire building. The people scurrying down on the corner of Times Square he could see did look tiny. The little yellow cabs drifting by looked like toys.

Madeleine emerged from the bathroom having removed her pantyhose, and with the lust clearly in her eyes, Hugo suddenly wasn’t thinking about the view outside.

“You look unbelievable,” he said as they approached each other. She smiled, and he saw her shiver. “You’re cold?”

She shook her head. “Nervous, I guess.”

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want.”

“No, I want to,” she slipped her hands under his jacket, feeling his body through his shirt, and then she was helping him remove the jacket. “It’s just a big step for me, you know?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve thought about it a lot, and with my husband telling me so frequently it’s okay to flirt with other guys, it’s okay if I want anything to happen—I guess I just couldn’t stop thinking about it. But honestly, I never thought it could ever actually happen in real life.”

Hugo said, “But now?”

She looked into his eyes, searching for answers still. “Now I think I’m ready to really try something, and it scares me.”

He wanted to step out of character, be her husband again, embrace her, comfort her, reassure her. Yet he felt almost a sense of duty to this carefully constructed masquerade to maintain his stance as the new date, the relative stranger.

“We can take it slow,” he said, trying his best to be reassuring. “Stop whenever you want.”

Thinking, if she was with a real guy, a real date, that guy might not be so accommodating about her fears about her husband.

“Oh, I’m not sure I can go slow,” she giggled, now reaching to unbutton his shirt. “You know I’ve been eyeing you up for ages.”

Hugo smiled, but now found himself wondering who he was supposed to be in her little performance. Someone she knew? Had to be, if she was saying she’d been after him for ages.

“In the bookstore?” he asked, seeking any kind of clue.

“I guess,” she said, pulling his shirt off his shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor. “But you know I can see you from the windows of our apartment.”

“And I can see you,” he said, feeling his hardness twitch in confirmation that he was supposed to be her crush in this scene, Connor.

She grinned, pushing him back onto the bed. “Not when I close the blinds.”


“I mean, recently I’ve shown you the odd flash of underwear…”

Hugo felt a jab of sudden jealousy, even in this strange situation where she was imagining seducing Connor behind her husband’s back.

“I’ve seen more than that,” he said. “I think your blinds hide a lot less than you think they do.”

She nodded, the thought that Connor might have seen her masturbating in the window apparently left her unfazed. Perhaps she simply didn’t believe it. She said, “In that case you know you won’t be disappointed with anything here.”

He lay back on the bed, and Madeleine straddled him, embraced him, put one hand behind his head, the other clutching his ribs as she leaned in to kiss his mouth.

He tasted the sharp edge of gin on her lips and tongue, breathed in the sweet floral scent that had the most powerful effect of making him believe he was with another woman.

Wasn’t he the one who should have worn a different scent for this scene?

Her dress rode up as she pressed her body down on him, feeling for herself how hard he was for her. She was wearing white thong panties, which really didn’t seem like Madeleine’s style to her husband. Not Boston Madeleine, anyway. Was this New York Madeleine, who was someone he felt he hardly knew? The tiny scrap of white hid little, but made big suggestions about the raw sexuality inside her.

He held her soft, round behind firmly in his hands, having encouraged her dress to ride up just a little more so that it was almost no more than a shirt.

“So your friend Lucy knows about us then,” he said, and could have been talking as her husband as much as faux-Connor.

“It’s not worth keeping secrets from Lucy, figures them out sooner or later.”


“She knew about my husband’s fantasy about watching me flirt with other men before I ever told her about it.”

“She did?”

“I guess she’s squeezed a few secrets from my husband, huh? She always was the best at ferreting out a story.”

Madeleine’s golden hair flowed over his face, threatening to get in the way as she nibbled on his lips, slipped her tongue in his mouth. Then she was shaking it out of the way of her face to watch him as he forced his head down, his mouth finding one of her hard nipples through the material of her dress and the flimsiest white cotton bra.

More kisses, and she was smiling so broadly. That was the most beautiful thing of all, of course. For Hugo and his burgeoning obsession, that was the whole point.

“It was her idea, actually,” Madeleine said.

“Her idea to do this?”

“To tell my husband I was staying over with her, so I could see how far things might go with you.”

Hugo felt his manhood throb, and then when Madeleine pressed herself down on him, he guessed she’d felt it too through her little panties and his thin suit pants. The fact that her panties were already soaking wet also made him throb. God, she was dripping. Was this a particular fantasy for Madeleine? The illicit encounter?

He said, “So you’ll tell your husband about it eventually?”

She sat up, as though to apply more force still as she ground her sex down on his hardness, but took the opportunity to haul her dress up and over her breasts, then off over her head. Her bra followed soon after onto the floor.

“Of course. But I wanted to see what it was like first—you know, trying it.”

“Trying it.”

“I figured if I wasn’t comfortable doing this, I didn’t want to get his hopes up by telling him it’s definitely happening.”

Hugo didn’t care about the holes in her logic, not for now. He pulled her back down to him so he could suck on her breasts, take her irresistibly stiff nipples into his hot, wet mouth.

“Oh God…” she moaned as he moved over to tend to her other breast, breathing in that uncharacteristic scent as he did so.

He half wondered if she was tempting him to imagine another woman with that new perfume, if she still harbored doubts about his altruism, that he wanted her to sleep with other men, yet did not want to sleep with other women himself. From a neutral perspective, if you didn’t fully understand his voyeuristic interest in his wife, it was hard to understand the apparent imbalance in his fantasy. The thrill for him wasn’t the hope that he could some day experience new pussy.

Nevertheless, it was nice to experience her in a different perfume, whatever her motivation. Perhaps it helped her step out of her normal character, and into that of an adulteress, which despite everything that had happened so far, was not her natural self.

Madeleine slowly kissed her way down his chest, his stomach, her hair flowing over him like silk. When she reached his belt, she lifted her head up to double-check its mechanism. Her hands went to his crotch, cupping him, tracing out the shape of his erection through the thin material of his pants.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little… rusty,” she said, looking up at him with a smile as she unfastened his buckle.

“Rusty?” That was the last word Hugo would have used to describe his wife considering everything that had happened recently.

“You know it’s only been my husband the last five years. Well, eight, I suppose.”

She peeled his pants down his thighs, just far enough to reveal his hard cock. The little gasp she uttered as she pulled it out, held it in her hands—that was impressive acting. It really made him think this is how she’d be with the real Connor—more so, perhaps. The guy was athletic—chiseled, in fact. He was a regular visitor to that gym of Madeleine’s, after all.

“Compare well?” he asked her.

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered, holding her face close enough to it that he could feel her warm breath, her fingers snaking around it to scope it out.

Then he felt her tongue, hot and wet, slowly dragged up his length, from base to tip.

“I love it,” she grinned, bit her lip, then went back to licking it as though it were made of candy.

“I should date wives more often if they’re this easy to please,” he joked.

She gave a wry smile, then picked up the end of his cock, slipped it briefly into her mouth. “Probably should,” she said. “You’d find us all so desperate to try new cock, we’d do absolutely anything you wanted.”

She brushed her golden hair out of her face, then put his ‘new cock’ back inside her mouth, her lips stretching over his swollen manhood, working it, her fingers squeezing his base, pumping him.

Oh God, what would it be like to know she was doing this to another man? Rubbing his massive organ all over her pretty face, running her tongue all over it, tasting him, sucking him into her mouth.

Hugo nearly lost it just then. He was going to have to be careful.

As though she sensed him getting dangerously close to his peak, Madeleine withdrew him, licked his shaft once more time, then launched forwards, sandwiching his hot erection between both their bodies.

She reached up to kiss him, and he felt the wonderful smoothness of her belly as she dragged it over his shaft. She couldn’t resist further, however, pulling herself up so that her pussy rested on his rigid column, and leaving the thin saturated white cotton of her thong in place, he now rocked her hips to ride him, grazing her hot womanhood against his shaft, as he held her by the thighs.

“We don’t have to go any further, you know,” Hugo teased, trying to be in character. “We can keep it to this if you like.”

She circled her hand around it now, holding it up as she ground her sopping pussy against the base, making it look strangely as though she were wearing some kind of strap-on.

She smiled, loving the way his hands swept all over her body, taking in those glorious curves, her breasts, her hard nipples, her soft skin, gliding back down to her waist as she continued to shuffle her crotch over his cock.

“Oh, we’re going further,” she said. “I’ve been watching you through our windows—I know what you’re good at.”

“You do?” he smiled, and sat up to take her breasts into his mouth again.

Her hands slipped up to his face, held his cheeks as she kissed him again, sucking on his top lip.

Then she said, “Yes, I do.”

She pushed him back down, flat against the bed, so that she could slide up his body. Knowing what she was after he also slid down a little underneath her, so she could settle in a stable position, grazing her drenched panties over his mouth and nose.

Sitting over him, she pushed her sex gently down over his mouth, her hands covering his on her hip, locking them to her body to avoid distraction.

He breathed in her strong, dark aroma, and he very nearly lost control of himself for the second time that night.

“Your husband doesn’t do this for you?” he asked her, before opening his mouth to taste the damp cotton.

“Oh, he does now.”

“You’ve told him to?”

“He got the message. Inspired by our view across the street, you might say. I was surprised.”

Hugo nuzzled into her heat, and managed to push aside the saturated cotton to reveal her delectable pussy, wetter than he thought he’d ever seen it before. Her aroma was almost overwhelming, the concentrated spice of serious female arousal, while her tangy, zingy flavor only drove his hunger as he fed ravenously from her slippery folds.

“Oh Jesus…” she gasped.

He held her panties forcibly to the side now, his tongue dancing over her clit, quivering as it dipped into her hot slit. Madeleine seemed to let go of her inhibitions, oscillating her hips as she rode his mouth, her eyes closed. To Hugo, she really was imagining how Connor might treat her and he felt almost breathless from that knowledge.

“Oh God, oh fuck…” she sighed, and as he looked up he saw her wincing as though in pain.

“Oh fuck, that feels good…”

Biting her lip as though to cope with it all, as she continued to jink her hips to rub herself over him. Then she was shaking convulsively over his face, and though he didn’t tend to believe in the myth of the squirting female, he did sense a profusion of her juices as she shook and juddered, gasping for breath as she came on his mouth.

“My God, that was just insane,” she said, pulling herself off him to remove the sopping scrap of white cotton still clinging to her body. “I’ve been dreaming about that for months…”

The thought of her hankering after Connor for so long, her secret insatiability, brought Hugo back up to full mast again.

When she lifted her knee over his chest and straddled him again, her dripping pussy was still over his face, but she now faced his feet, taking in the extent of his hardness for her.

He reached up and placed his hands on her round behind, squeezing her cheeks as he eased her down against his mouth, for another taste of her delicious nectar. It was harder to focus this time, as he felt her hot breath on his cock, then her tongue gliding over it, her mouth enveloping it in her wet heat.

He moaned, long and deep, and felt her respond to the vibrations from his mouth against her slippery, sensitive folds. Licking around her clit as she pumped and sucked on him, he teased her labia with his fingers, stretched her, dipped a digit or two inside her, marveling at her uncontrollable wetness.

It was a little much for her, perhaps, after her recent orgasm. She hopped off him, giggling, and almost wrapped her body around his head before kissing him from an angle Hugo had never kissed anyone before, almost upside down.

Tasting herself as she kissed him, as she nibbled on his lips, then full-out fucked his mouth with her tongue. Not squeamish at all about her flavor. There was something undeniably sexy about that.

When she crawled over him again, she wasn’t stopping until she had his big hard cock between her legs.

“You have such a big cock,” she purred. “My husband would be so jealous to find out.”

“Jealous, or envious?” he chuckled.

“Probably jealous more than envious… but then he has a big enough cock as well,” she laughed.

He reached down, and lifted his cock up to touch the searing heat of her flower, stroking her with his obscene hardness, coating his end in her copious juices. Madeleine moaned, and perhaps for a moment forgot where she was, what their scene was about.

Then she remembered. She was straddling a man who was not her husband. He was about to violate her, penetrate her with his fully erect cock for the first time, making it full, proper, cannot-be-denied adultery.

At least in their scene, anyway. And they had to keep to the fantasy, or else this wasn’t a proper dress rehearsal.

Madeleine paused, and looked over her shoulder at him with a note of caution in her eyes. It was a difficult moment for her to keep in character—she gazed at him momentarily as though asking her husband for permission, wherever he was being kept.

But Hugo was not her husband in this scene, he was Connor.

If she ended up sleeping with someone else, and her husband wasn’t in the room, there would not be any final power of veto.

Hugo said, “You okay? Want to stop?”

Perfectly light tone of voice, nonjudgmental, relaxed and reassuring—telling her it was okay if she wanted to step back, temporarily or completely.

She gave a nervous smile, and Hugo saw her getting back into the role, realizing she needed to work through this kind of scenario if she wanted to actually do this some day.

“You feel so good,” she said. “But I’ve never… not before… not while I’ve been with Hugo.”

Hearing his own name, treated in the third person, someone emphasized the fact that in this, he was not here—her husband was waiting at home, assuming that his wife was innocently hanging out with her best friend.

“Of course,” he said. “But we don’t have to do this now, if you don’t want. You want a break? We can chill out a little.”

She hesitated, then shook her head.

And she wiggled her behind, forcing his end inside her.

“Oh God…” she breathed, feeling just the tip inside her. Facing away from his head as she thought about what was happening—she could easily have been imagining it was Connor penetrating her, violating her wedding vows.

Then she eased down on his shaft, letting him take her weight, making him gasp at the tightness, the heat of her pussy.

Hugo moaned, as much from the thought of this momentous milestone—his wife taking another man’s cock inside her pussy for the first time as a married woman, even if it was simulated—as from the physical bliss of entering her.

“You’re so wet,” he said, trying to keep in character, trying to avoid saying he couldn’t remember when she’d been quite this wet before.

“Oh God, you fill me up so completely,” she breathed, for a moment just sitting there, still, feeling him inside her. Imagining being stretched by another man, but a cock she’d never felt before.

She leaned back a little, placing her hands behind her on his stomach to support herself, then slowly, as though unused to his size, she began to move, slowly rocking her hips back and forth, her stomach undulating as though she were belly dancing for some Arabian prince.

“You’re so big,” she said, “so hard…”

Leaning back further, her hands on the mattress either side of his shoulders, her golden hair sweeping down to brush his face, her movement on his cock accelerated, eased by her abundant wetness, so she was bouncing up and down on him, his hands holding her waist to support her.


He let her use him for a while, feeling a little startled at everything that was happening, at just how sexy his wife was in this game, in the way she was taking what she wanted, forgetting her inhibitions, emerging from the shy, downhearted girl afraid to even talk to her husband about sex—into this glorious goddess showing him exactly what she wanted.

Yet what she really wanted was another man right now. That was yet another dark thrill as Hugo lay there, dazzled by the beauty of his wife in the role of insatiable adulteress. He had to be Connor in this fantasy. He had to know how she would be with the other guy, what he could expect if she did actually go for it.

How did Connor make love?

He was young, chiseled, and unafraid to go after someone like Madeleine even while she was in the sanctity of her workplace. He wasn’t the type to simply lie back and let her take him, use him like some inanimate object.

Hugo grabbed a hold of Madeleine, pulling her to him in a powerful bear hug, piling his cock into her one last time before wrestling her onto her back. She squealed, apparently delighted, as he manhandled her, forced her down.

“My turn,” he said. “You’ve had enough time to get used to cheating on your husband.”

She caught her breath at the word cheating, though in their little game, it was a perfectly appropriate word to use for what she was up to—in her head, fucking a strange young man from the other side of the street, while her husband waited at home under the impression she was innocently cheering up her best friend.

Holding her down with one hand, he kissed her mouth hungrily, and held a strong hand down between her legs, forcing two fingers inside her, feeling how incredibly wet, how sensationally hot she was down there.

“You know how bad you are?” he said to her as he lifted off momentarily.

“Very bad?” she grinned, loving his new attitude.

“Cheating on your poor husband.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to know I was doing this,” she said.

“But you’ve hidden this from him.”

“Maybe I’ll confess as soon as you’re gone.”

“Then it’ll be too late. He wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“No. But I think that he likes having a naughty wife. So even if I am bad, once I tell him, I’d make him so horny, I’m sure he’d forgive me.”

He kissed the side of her neck, loving the softness of her warm skin, the gentle perfume she wore, the way she jostled her hips in response to his fingers as they squirmed inside her soaking pussy.

He pulled away from her, and as she looked up at him with her entire face a question mark, he reached for her hand, and pulled it up to his crotch, to the brutally hard cock waiting for her.

“Mmmm…” she said. “How is it that you’re using that thing on me instead of all the hot girls you always have running around your apartment?”

She stroked him slowly, her fingers closed around his shaft to form some kind of makeshift sheath. He dipped his fingers back between her legs, seeking out that heat again, coating his fingers in her juices before bringing them up to his face, breathing in her aroma, slipping his fingers inside his mouth to taste her again.

He said, “Because I’ve just found out how much better it is to fuck a beautiful woman looking to fool around on her husband.”

Madeleine lifted her head, craned her neck to reach him, put the tip of his cock inside her mouth.

She moaned at having him there, her lips stretching and curling into a broad grin even while wrapped around his girth.

Hugo channeled his inner Connor, and lifted his knee over her chest, carefully straddling her, the end of his manhood never leaving her lips. Then he was over her, the alpha male, letting her suck on him a little while, one hand caressing his thigh as the other gripped his shaft. He gently rocked back and then forward, gently fucking her face, though allowing her periodic breaks to recover from the massive object stretching her lips, so she could trail it around her face.

Hugo felt powerful, placing his hand in her hair as she closed her eyes and took him in her mouth, the other hand reaching behind to stroke her thigh and cup her mound. Fucking her face, gently but to his own rhythm.

His inner Connor wanted more. He pulled back, urged her over onto all fours, and then he was holding her beautifully round behind, parting her knees a little, placing the tip of his cock to her entrance and then easing inside her again.

“Oh Jesus…” she wailed as he thrust into her, his hands clasping her waist as she clung to a bunch of pillows as though to keep herself from being pounded into the wall.

She seemed to collapse into the bed as he pounded into her, taking his force, absorbing the energy of his powerful desire, adoring this different kind of lovemaking, that she didn’t normally see from her husband.

He was just about holding on as she now shivered and bucked under him, her eyes closed to imagine her new lover filling her, ready to blow inside her.

His body was zinging with electric energy and he felt the little jolts in the base of his swollen cock that spoke of the imminent arrival of his orgasm. Whether she felt him throb inside her, he wasn’t sure, but Madeleine somehow sensed he was near, and now pulled away from him.

“You can’t come inside me,” she said. “I’m not sure my husband would be happy about that.”

He nodded, then was a little surprised as she scootched between his legs, sliding down on her back. She sat up to grab his cock, pumping on him, forcing him to mark her with his seed.

Hugo felt his climax boiling up, and then he was coming, his white oil bursting forth to splash all over his wife’s pretty face, her neck, her bounteous breasts and hard nipples. Dripping and dribbling down her smooth skin, Madeleine embraed his emissions. She rubbed his purple helmet all over her face, her cheeks, her chin, her jaw, her neck, even as he continued to spurt his cream over her..

Beautiful, messy Madeleine. Sticky with another man’s come.

Hugo couldn’t help but kiss her, thinking to hell with it, his lips sliding over hers, sucking on her, even with his syrupy fluid all over her, slick and salty.

“Oh God, that was amazing,” she said, looking up at him, impressed at how he had surprised her with his sudden forcefulness.

He collapsed next to her on the bed, and they recovered their breath.

But breaths regained, Madeleine was telling him he would have to let her alone for a while—he would have to head off, head home. She could not spend the night with him, not this first time with him, this first time cheating on hubby.

Hugo, feeling his natural self returning, felt a little unsure about what she meant him to do. Would he actually leave the hotel, head home?

“I’m tired anyway,” she said. “I wouldn’t be any fun company tonight. We could do this another time.”

“Of course,” he said.

He pulled himself up from the bed, leaving her to swaddle herself in the bedding, drained of all energy. He pulled on his clothes, and left her apparently sleeping—feeling strange to be vacating that luxury room at such a late hour, fleeing in the night.

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