She stood up and turned slowly, admiring herself. In a moment of dread, a hot shiver ran down her spine. There was still time to burn all the photos that Darin left behind. She bit her lip, determined to go through with it.
While waiting downstairs, her heart beat wildly and her cunt pulsed, the excitement of seeing her husband gradually arousing her. It was strange and she didn't understand it. She panicked when she reached the foyer and turned into the living room. Suppose he doesn't come home until tomorrow as he had planned? There was no guarantee he would come home after what she told him on the phone this morning. She would wait as long as it took, until Brad came home. No more men, only Brad from now on. She fidgeted in the chair, crossing her legs as she glared at the photos on the coffee table, all spread out, for Brad.
She heard a car pulling into the driveway. Her heart tried leaping out from her throat. It was Brad! She glanced at the photos one last time, seeing herself sucking cocks and being fucked. For a split second, she almost chickened out. Abruptly, she stood up and marched to the doorway, away from the temptation to throw them away. She leaned against the archway like she imagined a hooker doing it while waiting for a customer. Her knees were weak and butterflies were fluttering in her stomach.
Brad flung open the front door, a flustered exasperated expression on his face. He saw Joanne standing in the entrance to the living room, leaning against the wall, her hip jutting out enticingly with the most come-hither smile he had ever seen on her face.
"What? What?" he sputtered. "You…"
"Cat got your tongue?" she purred, keeping her voice even, although her body was trembling uncontrollably inside.
He dropped his suitcases on the floor. "Your phone call… what was that all about?"
"You know. I just wanted to tell you that I knew about your little detective friend," she said, finding it difficult to keep calm.
"You're… you're wrong."
"Stop the bullshit, Brad. I know."
"Okay… okay… I was wrong. I'm sorry."
"I think it's going to take a lot more than, I'm sorry," she mocked. "We have a lot to talk about."
"Like what?"
"A lot of things." Her stomach was quivering and a vein throbbed in her slender neck. She was about to speak when he interrupted.
"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked. "You expected a whore and that's what you're getting."
"You're crazy, hon," he said, forgetting his luggage, walking by her and into the front room.
"Somebody else said I was crazy today and they found out I wasn't." She turned, her moment of truth at hand. She gulped, following him and trying to keep her heart from acting like a yoyo going from her stomach to her throat and back again.
Brad went straight for the bar and poured himself a drink. "Let's forget about the detective," he said, sipping his drink, his nerves settling. "I'll make it up to you over the weekend."
"What about the things he discovered?" she taunted.
Brad forced a smile. "He didn't find out anything."
"If you're so lure, why did you hire him?" She sat on the couch, feeling his hot eyes on her flesh. She took a deep breath. "Why don't you come and see the evidence?"
Brad humored her and sat down beside her. "What evidence?"
She pointed to the pictures scattered all over the coffee table. "This evidence." She sucked in her breath and prayed.
Brad leaned over, scanning the photos. His eyes filled with rage. He grabbed a fistful of the photos. "What the fuck?"
"It's the evidence, Brad," she said, frightened out of her skull. "I thought you might want to see them."
He looked at the photos again, this time slowly. When he was through, he dropped them on the floor. He felt as if someone had kicked the shit out of him. He turned to Joanne. "Why?" he asked sullenly.
"You tell me why first," she said.
The fury in him began to rise. His face turned red, his eyes filled with hate. "Because I didn't trust you," he snarled. "The proof of my suspicions are on the floor."
"I only did it," she continued, her eyes filling with tears. "I only did it because you didn't trust me." She held back her tears. "The detective. Where's he?"
"I fucked him this morning," she spat. "You can't trust anyone these days."
"I'm suppose to believe you fucked these men just to prove a point?"
"I love you," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I did it for spite. It hurt me terribly when I picked up the phone and heard you talking to the detective. I wanted to get even and the only way I could think of…" She sniffed back more of her tears. "I had to do what you feared most, fuck other men."
She stood up and walked to the center of the large living room. "Look at me, Brad. I'm what you think I am. A whore. I'm dressed like one and I fuck like one." She posed, seeing the lust begin to appear on his face.
She was right. She definitely looked like a whore and the pictures on the floor proved she fucked other men.
"I'm all juicy, Brad," she purred, swaying on her heels. "I'm all juiced up for your cock."
He glared at her, knowing, sensing he had driven her to do the things she did. His mind filled with the images of the men and he wondered if he could ever forget.
Joanne saw the indecision on his face. "I'm sorry I did it, Brad," she said. "It'll never happen again. You have to trust me on that." She turned and walked toward the stairs. "A marriage is based on trust. If you still want me, I'll be in bed." She climbed the stairs, frightened that her marriage was over.
In the bedroom, she flicked on the dim light that cast an erotic shadow on the bed. Keeping her exotic outfit on, she lay down on the bed and spread her legs in the hope that Brad would want to try again.
For the longest while, Brad remained on the couch. He picked up the pictures again and stared at each one, hating her and hating himself. He stood up, the pictures falling. Like a zombie, he walked across the room and climbed the stairs, heading for the bedroom.
He stood in the doorway, gazing down at his gorgeous wife. He didn't, want to lose her. He loved her… but could he forget? Slowly, he undressed, the fire in his groin giving him pain. For a reason he could not fathom, the pictures of her turned him on and at the same instant, disgusted him.
"I want you," Joanne whispered from the bed, her heart swelling with love. "Hurry."
"I want you too," he said softly. The dim light added to the lure of her luscious figure.
"Come to me." She held her arms outstretched for him.
"Take off your clothes," he rasped, his cock sticking out, a beam of hard meaty flesh.
She smiled wickedly and placed her hands between her legs. "Crotchless," she purred. "Fuck me like this."
His cock ached as he eyed the swollen lips of her cunt peeking out from the lace panties. He climbed on the bed, cradling her in his arms. "Baby! Baby!" he groaned, her hot body kindling the flames in his groin.
"Ooooooh, Brad," she crooned, rubbing against him. "I missed you so much. I missed your cock." She reached down between their hot eager bodies and grasped his prick. She slithered out of his arms, working her way down his taut handsome body with her mouth, licking and nibbling his flesh in her trek for his cock.
"Ohhh, Joanne," he groaned as her greedy mouth inflamed him. He squirmed on the bed as she chewed, sinking her teeth into his flesh. "Suck it, baby! Suck me!"
Joanne wanted only to please her husband. She gripped his cock in her fist and slopped her tongue all over every inch of his thick veiny shaft, soaking him, wallowing in his cock – the only cock she truly wanted. "Oh, Brad," she moaned, kissing his prick and sucking the thin skin that covered the powerful meaty muscle. "I love you so." She stroked his prick with adoration and love, her tongue fluttering all over his groin, balls, cockshaft, and thighs.