Book: Madeleine Plays: A Wife-Watching Romance

Previous: Thirteen
Next: Fifteen


Then, there she was. Grinning ear-to-ear as she laid eyes on her husband, a note of apology in her eyes for taking too long.

“The line in the restroom was insane,” she was already saying by the time she reached him, though he was in the process of flagging down a cab.

He laughed off her delay, though it had actually pained him. As a cab finally pulled in for them, Hugo was even a touch confused to find himself disappointed, that she had come out when she had, that she hadn’t actually decided to pursue her older dance partner further. They hadn’t talked about it, so it might well have made him feel a burst of insecurity, but it was hot to think of Madeleine unable to control her insatiable desire, that burning torch of sexuality within her.

“God that was amazing,” she breathed as they settled and the cab pulled away from the curb. “Do you hate me? I got a little carried away.”

“No, it was wonderful,” Hugo said, and she was snuggling up against him, kissing him as she had kissed that man on the dance floor—so passionate, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth so he could taste the alcohol on her breath.

She was really on fire.

As she assaulted his mouth, he couldn’t help slide his available hand over her thigh, brushing over the nylon and up to the lace band at the top, his fingers splaying out to sample that strange texture, and the transition to her bare skin at the top of her thighs.

The effect so erotic. Society in general had designated thigh-high stockings as sexy, and Hugo could do nothing but respond to these on Madeleine in that way.

In the back of that cab, she was sex personified.

“I can’t believe you did it,” Hugo said, pulling himself away from her briefly just so he could take a breath.

She smiled, that impish, girlish smile that always made him quite helpless. “I can’t believe you let me,” she said. “It seemed so wrong.”

“But you did enjoy it?” he asked.

She took hold of his hand, and forced it higher on her thigh, up under her dress, pressing his fingers to her soaking panties. Proof positive.

“It was electric,” she whispered in awe. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Hugo grinned. “Not even when we were dating?”

She nodded, accepting that her statement hardly flattered their early days together. But she said: “This was different. Even when those dumb college guys were hitting on me, it wasn’t just about the fact they were hitting on me, or they wanted to sleep with me.”

“It wasn’t?”

“I don’t know…” he felt her hand encouraging his to keep its pressure on her pussy through those sopping wet panties.

God, he could smell her in the air now, over the pong of old leather and ancient cigarettes from the taxi interior, over the sweet scent of her perfume, that tickle of spice that denoted female arousal.

She was using his hand to masturbate, and he could feel the shape of her underlying pussy as well as the intense heat.

She said: “I guess after everything that’s happened recently, I was really getting off on you being there. Watching me. Seeing how bad I was being. From what I now know about you, I could tell how it was making you feel.”

“You could?”

“I think so. It was so hot to imagine how hard you must have been sitting up there.”

“Was he angry, that you just left him after that?” Hugo asked.

“He was pleading with me to stay,” she said, then looked at her husband with another apology in her eyes. “I guess part of me wanted to stay.”

Hugo nodded. “You could have,” he said, and he thought she had to have felt the tremble in his body. There was such a profound sense of danger in the air. Such a colossal pressure on him now, talking of giving up all control, respecting her independence in this monumentally important matter—her being with another man. “You know that? I would have been okay with it.”

Madeleine either sensed the slight quiver in him, or picked up the signs of fear in his eyes. She shook her head gently: “We’re not ready yet. Even this was a big step.”

He thought it ironic after such an elaborate Date Night set-up, but there was no doubt in his mind how sage her point of view was, even in the face of his apparent enthusiasm for this strange concept of consensual infidelity.

“You’re right,” he said, stroking her thigh. “I can’t tell you how exciting it was to see you with him, or how I wanted you to blow my mind and do something—but if this happens too quickly, it could be too much.”

She kissed him, long and slow, and then they were pulling up outside their apartment.

When she was ready, she came out of the bathroom, leaving her dress behind. She looked incredible in her black lace and emerald silk underwear, slinking over to the bed before crawling onto the mattress.

Whether it was her outfit—the extravagant lace, the raunchy stockings and suspenders—or her recent brush with an older gentleman on the dance floor, not to mention a few younger yet inferior suitors, Madeleine seemed so confident, and so sexy with it.

Her expression of serious seduction soon broke into a broad grin, however, as she came to a halt on the bed, and paused on her hands and knees for her husband’s enjoyment.

“God, you look amazing, honey,” Hugo breathed.

“I was hoping you’d enjoy it,” she said, sitting up, running her hands all over her body as though selling it to him.

Hugo sat on the window seat, in front of the open blinds, wearing only a pair of black silk boxer shorts and a plain white t-shirt. He could appreciate the view that might be obtained from across the street, by anyone from dozens of windows in the next building.

He saw Madeleine’s eyes flicking occasionally to the windows as she slipped the straps of her bra down from her shoulder to her upper arm, revealing one breast and then the other to him, her nipples stiff in the air-conditioned air, though not from the temperature.

“Can you see anyone watching you?” he asked her.

She smiled, but shook her head. “I guess the college guys are out partying elsewhere tonight,” she said. “I don’t see anyone else over there.”

“I’ll bet there’s someone hiding in the dark,” Hugo said. “I would if I was over there.”

Fondling her beautiful breasts, she grinned, “But you’re here, so you get to see whatever you want.”

She shook her hair over her shoulder, and lay on her side, one hand sweeping all over her body, her hips, her thighs, checking out the strange feeling of the stockings on her legs, and the sensual silk that covered her sex.

“So you had a good time tonight?” Hugo asked her.

“I did.”

She teased him as he gazed at her, rubbing her fingers over her mound, over her concealed pussy, pulling the thin material tight against her so he could see the depression, the outline of her lips. She revealed more flesh, a hint of soft blonde down, as the soft silk sank into her lush vale, became a mere string for her to press into her tender folds, dazzling her audience with her pink flower.

“Is this what would have happened if you’d gone home with him?” Hugo asked her.

She laughed, moving around on the bed to end up on her back, her thighs parting, her hand pulling aside her panties to reveal all to him.

“I’m not sure he would have given me the space to do this,” she said, two fingers slipping into her pussy, spreading her moisture over her lips.

“He wanted you so badly—I could tell.”

Madeleine sighed as she touched herself. “I could tell as well,” she said, looking at him with that sexy hint of danger in her eyes. “When we were dancing, he was pressing against me.”

Hugo felt a ripple of irresistible jealousy course through his veins, intricately linked to the exquisite warmth of arousal. “You felt it?”

She looked at him, and he could tell she was examining him even more than he was examining her after their experience, her leisurely display allowing her plenty of time to assess him while her fingers danced over her pussy, checking he was really okay about this, really interested in hearing of her experience.

She nodded at last, said: “He was a big boy.”

Hugo swallowed involuntarily as a jolt of surprise pulsed through him. He hadn’t expected such a revelation from her, though now it came he saw that it had been unavoidable. If he was questioning her, how could she not say?

Blushing, she recognized the sensitive nature of what she’d said, the potential for offense. Some men—plenty of men—would be offended by the idea of their wives pressing against another man, of course, with the thought of his large size adding insult to injury. Hugo had never had doubts about his size, but the point of his wife having these experiences was that it was different, unlike what she had with her husband.

“Are you sad you’ve come home with this, and not that one?” he asked, slipping his own rigid manhood out of the fly of his boxers, loving her response as he revealed himself to her, the lustful smile spreading across her face.

“Not in the slightest,” she said, biting her lip, then shuffling forward to the edge of the bed as though for a better look, gently gyrating her hips to tempt him over.

Hugo took the hint, and moved to the bedside, dropping down onto the floor before her, his hands curling around her nylon-clad ankles.

“You could have, you know,” he said. “I wouldn’t have stopped you. As long as you told me about it afterwards, I’d have been happy.”

She smiled broadly. “I don’t think I was ready,” she said, then a wicked look stole over her face and she added: “I did have an extra dance with him, though.”

Hugo found himself chuckling at his wife’s admission. There was something darkly alluring about the idea that his pretty wife had this mystery about her, that things might not always be quite as straightforward as she presented them at first.

What had happened during her final dance with her older man? Anything could have. She knew her husband was no longer watching…

“One last dance, huh?” he said, trying not to show his emotion, not wanting to project any response that might discourage her from pursuing her insatiable desires.

She gave a small nod, cautious, still assessing his reactions for any hint of danger. “He caught me as I was coming out of the bathroom. Tried to persuade me to stay longer.”

Slowly, Hugo slid his way along the rough nylon covering her left leg, inhaling her scent, appreciating her stunning beauty while calming himself, refocusing his thoughts.

“So you danced with him again? No wonder you took so long.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. He wanted you to go home with him?”


Reaching her thigh, where her surface temperature seemed to rise considerably, along with the spicy scent of her arousal, which drew him inexorably in like some powerful gravitational force.

She was so wet. Even before he arrived, he could see how deliciously turned on she was by this whole experience. Her eyes burned with her memories of the evening. All that attention from other guys on the dance floor—guys who had no marital duty to praise her, all lusting after her, circling like sharks. The older man who had taste and style, desperate to take her home with him. The hint of an opportunity to actually go home with him—take a brief no-strings step out of the mundane existence of her marriage and fall into the arms of another man.

Giving in to temptation, Hugo dived in to draw his tongue along her soaking groove, tasting her tantalizing tangy flavor, indulging in the proof of her powerful arousal.

Madeleine groaned long and low as he lapped at her juices, his nose nestling in her soft golden down, his tongue teasing her sensitive flesh, stirring the kind of feelings in her womanhood that she’d been craving all night.

Hugo placed his hands gently on her body, teasing apart her pussy so that his tongue could reach deeper still.

“You could really tell, then? That he was bigger than me?”

Dwelling on this point, Hugo felt he was really messing with that nugget of fear and jealousy that continued to reside inside his chest, but it only seemed to enhance the counterbalancing emotions, the excitement, the arousal.

“That last dance,” she said, pulling her panties further aside as though to help him, though she didn’t really need to. “I was rubbing against it.”

Hugo felt his hardness pulse inside his boxers. He responded with hunger, burying his face in her sex, sucking on her tender lips, penetrating her with his tongue.

“You felt him up?” he asked her, a touch breathless.

She seemed to catch on to the way her words were affecting him, driving him on as he made love to her with his mouth. Eyes blazing, she said: “We were dancing so close. He had his hands on my hips, pulling me in to him, I could feel him on my stomach.”

“Uh-huh?” Hugo prompted, without losing contact with her for a moment.

He kissed around her clit, inspiring a sharp inhalation from her, then her hands were coursing through his hair, tightening around him, pulling him to her so she could guide him perfectly to where she needed him.

His tongue snaking around her clit as he heard her say: “I turned away from him, but he pulled me back against him, and I could feel it against me…”

He felt her whole body shiver as she said slowly: “So hard… so big… so hot…”

He stood up, feeling something innate, powerful, primordial inside him spurring him on, pushing him to assert himself, reclaim what was his.

He hauled himself up, reveling in the look of uncertainty and trepidation on his wife’s pretty face—she seemingly suddenly nervous she’d gone too far, pushed him past breaking point, deeply upsetting him by such explicit references to another man. He grabbed her, hands planted on her hips, turning her, shoving her—brutal, selfish, animalistic.

Madeleine gasped, and then her features broke out into a broad, blazing smile as she saw that he wasn’t angry, wasn’t upset—he was spectacularly turned on.

She allowed herself to be manhandled, her body pliant to his wishes, even trying to preempt them and position herself off the bed as he wanted, up on all fours, her shapely rear toward him, her glistening rose-red pussy framed by her pale flesh and the stark black of her suspenders.

A last nervous glance back at him, like a gazelle watching for its predator, and he was on her, pouncing, falling on her, his arms sweeping over her, pulling her in, his huge, pulsing, searing column piercing her, plunging forcefully into her, filling her entirely.

Oh, she knew her husband had nothing to fear about his size. When he was this hard, he took her breath away. It had been fun to tease him, though. Certainly provoked the right response.

“You think it would be like this? If you’d gone home with him?” he asked her.

“Oh yes...” she sighed. Such a melodic, exquisite sound.

“I know there’s no way he could have resisted you. He’d be inside you as soon as he had you alone.”

Hugo thrust into her powerfully, glorying in just how erect these strange thoughts made him. The beautiful blonde angel so tight as he squeezed inside her, his long, thick manhood splitting her cheeks as he entered her, his abdomen slamming against her behind as he pounded her.

“I bet he’d fuck you like this,” Hugo declared, his voice raised over the cacophony of her moans, the f-word sounding strange coming out of his mouth, but so wonderfully filthy.

“Oh fuck yeah...” she yelled, but then added: “Maybe it would even be harder.”

Hugo stepped up his effort, pounding her harder, knocking her breath out of her body with each impact, her body writhing and oscillating so gracefully as he rocked her with each hit.

“Oh harder than that...” she cried, whimpering a little from the intensity of his penetration though she was pleading for more.

“Like this?”

He put everything he had into ramming her, knowing he was sacrificing his staying power to fulfill her need for the most monumental pounding she’d ever received.

Afterwards, they simply collapsed, settling into an intimate embrace, Hugo spooned around Madeleine, continuing to breathe her in as the lingering sensations continued to ripple around both their bodies, echoes of their colossal passion bouncing around inside them.

As Hugo found himself failing to get to sleep, he was thinking that role-play was not going to be enough any more now that they’d tasted a hint of what reality could be. And he decided that to truly appreciate the beauty of his wife’s sexuality, he really was going to have to set her free.

Previous: Thirteen
Next: Fifteen