Archive name: The Wife’s Tale.HTM (M/F, Cheating)
Authors name: Paula Wilson ([email protected])
Story title: The Wife’s Tale
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This work is copyrighted to the author and the Unfaithful Wife Organisation © 2003. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration.
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I guess you already know something about me, but you’ve been told from Charlie's perspective and with his interpretation on my actions.
I won’t say that’s wrong but Charlie is a salt of the earth type who see’s most things as either black or white, where as you know the world is made up of shades of grey.
A little bit about me would be useful. At
the time of writing this story (
Enough of that, I am a librarian by profession, not trade; I have actually studied librarianship at University. There’s far more to being a librarian than just checking in books or DVD’s. So you know what I do but I will keep where I do it secret, don’t take offence at that, but I reckon I’m being indiscrete enough just writing about myself.
I have two sisters, Julia is older, married with two young children and Jasmine is younger and still at university, our parents are still living and I have a reasonably large extended family.
I met Charlie in the summer of 1999 when everyone was preparing for the millennium, either as a major party or as a computer disaster. We dated for a couple of years and married in the September of 2001. I think you know about my wedding day and my honeymoon so I won’t dwell on them.
What else? Did Charlie describe me? I doubt if he did. Well, probably superficially, so I guess that you know I’m blonde haired and blue eyed. I’m five four, but usually wear two or three inch heels, and weigh around one hundred and ten pounds. I keep my hair up at work and down at home and at play, I rarely wear much in the way of make up.
What else. I’ve never done a CV on my physical self, so what else should you know about me. I’m pretty, not drop dead gorgeous, I’m not so blind or arrogant to believe that, but pretty enough to have always attracted male admirers (and the occasional female). I have always thought that my nose is to thin but Charlie says that if it been any larger it would have been too big for my small face.
I listen to Charlie; he’s no genius but has what you call common sense. So if he say’s my nose is right for my face who am I to disagree.
If you saw me naked (which is very unlikely) you’d see that I have surprising full breasts, a thin waist which tapers to my hips and what appear to be long legs (it’s just because they are slender). I have a thin scrub of blonde pubic hair leading to my pussy which is … how do you describe your sex? A man can say his cock is yeah long and yeah thick. A woman can say what? I don’t have prominent lips or an inch long clitoris. I just have a sex, sorry but I can’t think of a better description but at least it will allow you to use your own imagination.
So, can you imagine what I look like? I hope so, I speak in a low and usually soft voice, Charlie say’s that’s from working in a library, that drops an octave when I’m feeling horny and you must know about my laugh.
“So that’s just about everything you’ll need to know about Janice Paula Wilson nee Morris. Sorry I should have said, my family calls me Jan, but I prefer Paula and to my friends and acquaintances I will always be known as Paula.
So, on with my life because I know what you really want to read about is me fucking with strangers.
I work in one of the central libraries in the city and that means a thirty minute ride on public transport. We have a pretty good transport system and I can catch a train from our suburb after only a tem minute walk. The system might be good but like all transport systems it gets crowded and the age when a man gave up his seat for a woman has long since gone.
I stand and sway with the train, usually using my fellow passengers as support and it was like this that I first met Desmond.
I sensed that something out of the ordinary was about to occur and then I felt a large and I guessed male hand stroke my buttocks. This has happened to me before, in the close confines of the train carriage, the female arse (I use the English version of ass to describe my derričre) is an attractive target for the average male. Usually it’s an accident and they quickly apologise.
This time and perhaps because at first I did nothing, the stroke rapidly became a grope. For a moment I did nothing because the experience was rather nice but I had to do something. After all he might be fat and fifty and I don’t do fat and fifty.
So I grabbed the hand and with difficulty turned to face its owner, who was thirtish, tall and quiet good looking. He didn’t look apologetic or guilty and I didn’t want a scene in the train.
“This is yours I think.” I said letting go of his wrist. I’d swear that he was about to say something but the train lurched and we were separated.
Then my stop arrived and along with a hundred other’s I disembarked into the bustle of the city.
I had forgotten all about the incident when hours later I found a small envelope in my message tray. This wasn’t unusual, libraries might be high tech and computerised but that’s veneer over a much older culture which included the message trays.
The message was short and well written and to the point. “Sorry about this morning but you have a fabulous bum, would like to see more of it.”
I was flattered and also mystified. I was sure that he hadn’t followed me, so just how did he know I worked in the library?
There was a small PTO at the bottom of the card. I flipped it over and carried on reading. “I will be in the eatery until one if you’d care to share your break with me. Desmond.”
I glanced up at the clock. It read
The eatery is just the coffee shop attached to the library, but it’s well used as some of our clients can spend the day in the library so somewhere to buy a coffee and snatch a bite to eat is important. It also makes money; a fact not lost on a public body that generally just spends it, anything that makes money is always welcomed.
Desmond was at a table all on his own. There was actually a pile of books on the table and his was actually reading one. He didn’t look up and so I bought myself a coffee and then went over.
He looked up as I approached and at seeing me he smiled. “Hi, you read my message.” He looked and sounded pleased. “If I’d have seen you enter I’d have bought that, do you want something to eat? Sorry, please sit down, you are staying aren’t you?”
I couldn’t get a word in, that’s not unusual for after a day in the library there are days when I find making conversation difficult. I did sit down and wait for the torrent to subside.
“You can buy me a tuna sandwich and explain yourself, in that order.” I eventually said. If he’s feeling generous then he can buy me lunch.
“When I saw you on the train…”
“When you felt me on the train.” I corrected.
“Yeah, as you say, but I’d seen you before that, weeks before that and I thought that you had the greatest bottom I have ever seen.”
Well it was bullshit, I have a good arse but not a great one, still no woman has objected to a bit of flattery.
“So now that you’ve come out, what happens next?” I asked.
He was good looking, at least in a smooth, tailored way. I usually prefer my admirers to be rougher. I have Charlie when ever I need kind and considerate.
“I’d like to see you.”
“I thought you were. I’m here in front of you.” I can be a BITCH, and I hate men who piss around. Why didn’t he just come out and say that he wanted to fuck me?
“I mean…”
“I know what you mean; only I’m married and I don’t do affairs.” I wondered if he’d see the nuance of my words, do you for that matter? I gave him a flash of leg. I wear fairly conservative clothes normally, so that showing a great deal of leg isn’t easy.
“I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He stood up and if he was waiting for me to stop him then he was disappointed. I deliberately kept my face away from him. When I did look up he was gone.
Disappointed? Don’t give up yet, you’ll discover that I play by my rules and to my timescales.
For a couple of days I left things as they were. I saw Desmond on the train but he made not attempt to either speak or grope me. Good, maybe he was starting to understand.
On the Friday I was working the early shift but told Charlie that I’d be on the late shift but would travel as usual and do a bit of shopping before work.
According I dressed for shopping, short skirt, white top and my favourite leather bomber jacket. As I was expecting or hoping for something more than shopping I chose a matching bra and panties in white with tiny red flowers as trimming. When ever practical I like my undies to be co-ordinated. I dropped my work skirt and blouse into my briefcase.
At the station I saw Desmond and went straight over. “Good morning.” I said cheerfully.
He looked like a frightened rabbit and I was expecting him to run for his burrow when the train arrived and we piled in. I made sure that I was close to Desmond and as the carriage filled I made sure that I was pressed back against him.
I just wondered if my earlier rejection would cool his ardour but after a couple of wriggles I felt his hand tentatively touch my bum. It was the cue to press back again.
Would he take the hint and was he brave enough to really touch me up? Just the musings made me tingle and I could feel my pussy beginning to lubricate.
I found out, the hand stopped stroking and cautiously squeezed me. I gave an encouraging wriggle and was rewarded by a harder squeeze. Desmond might have been slow to start but he was getting there.
It was time to hurry him up, making sure we weren’t being too obvious, I reached behind and found a rather encouraging bulge. A fiddle and I found his zipper, a tug and his fly was open. I delved inside and found the hot hard stalk to his cock.
Desmond had stopped touching me and I had to pull out of his trousers to guide his hand under my skirt. I felt his fingers against my bare arse I was wearing a red thong that covered nothing. I started to wriggle and lube more as Desmond’s fingers at last seemed to get up to speed. I slid back inside his pants, not to wank him but just to feel. I like the feel of a mans dick, even if it is only in my hand.
The train arrived at our stop all too quickly. Desmond had only just found his way into my pants and now had to withdraw. I waited until I thought he’d had the chance to zip himself up before leaving the train, then I drifted along until he had chance to catch me up.
He was puffing and red faced when he did eventually step up alongside me.
“Good morning.” I repeated feeling very smug and quite horny.
“Morning!” Desmond gasped. He looked so confused that I couldn’t help laughing. “It’s not funny!” He protested.
Around us people were shyly glancing towards us.
“That wasn’t fair, what if somebody had seen what were doing?” He protested.
“I thought that was what you wanted, my hand around your dick?” I laughed again. I was high, furtive sex always took me this way. There had been times when the buzz had overcome the quality.
“I do, but… I thought … you said …” He stammered.
“I don’t do affairs.” I said. “I don’t, I didn’t say anything about a casual meeting.”
You almost see the tumblers falling into place, to say that men can be transparent are an understatement, for most men their brain is in their dick.
“We should go somewhere.” He said quickly.
I grimaced. This was the only part of my plan that didn’t work. I had to be in work. I had the keys and the computer passwords, without me they’d have to call my deputy in and that would mean the main reading rooms not opening for hours. I like to fuck but I’m serious about my profession.
“Later, meet me in the eatery, about four … you can make four can’t you?” if he couldn’t then I’d qualify for idiot of the week, frustratedly horny idiot of the week.
“Four … where will we go.” Desmond stammered.
“Let me sort that out.” I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.
The problem, the biggest problem with affairs of any kind is finding somewhere to do the dread deed. You can hardly take them home and ask hubbie to pop out for a couple of hours and hotels in the afternoon reek of tawdry activities.
I arrived at work no further forward in my plans when I arrived at the library, did a quick change in the ladies and got on with my day.
Of course I couldn’t concentrate properly; my pussy was still tingling and wouldn’t stop until its particular need had been satisfied.
It got so bad that I started to wonder if there was anyone else who might help me out. The staffs were almost exclusively female other than Robbie, a student almost at the end of his industrial placement. He was fit enough, but humping somebody you worked with everyday was a bad idea, still he’d be leaving in a few weeks, sop maybe then.
I get grouchy when I’m horny, I mean horny without an obvious, well to be crude, fuck, and as the boss I took things out on the staff, so much so that by mid afternoon Chrissie sought me out.
“What’s bugging you?” She asked.
“Nothing!”
“That is crap, something’s wrong, you and Charlie had a row?”
“We never row, you know that.” Chrissie had been my friend since before I ever met Charlie and knows more about me than anyone else does.
“Somebody else?” She prompted. I looked up from my desk and Chrissie laughed. “You look warm.”
I knew what she meant. Chrissie knows about my extra curricula’s, not all of them, but that I do occasionally stray. So I told her about Desmond, finishing with the complaint that we had no where to go.
“Here, there are plenty of side rooms.”
“I don’t remember seeing any beds.” I retorted.
“Actually there are …. “ Chrissie stopped and grinned.
I knew what she meant, the library had a rest room, a throw back to when ninety percent of its clients were elderly and prone to fall over and injure themselves. It was very rarely used these days and probably most staff didn’t even know it existed.
We exchanged grins and I made my way to the restroom, there was no point planning anything until I’d checked the place out. I was back at the main desk ten minutes later with a huge grin on my face.
Chrissie saw me, smiled and walked away.
At four I was in the eatery and was pleased to see that Desmond was already there. This time he saw me and actually stood up as I walked over, a nice if old fashion gesture.
“Can I buy you anything?” He asked.
“Only a condoms if you don’t have any.” I whispered.
He blushed and I wondered if I’d said something he hadn’t thought of.
“That’s not necessary.”
The eatery was deserted. It closed to the public at four, something I well knew and even the waitress wasn’t about. I sat by Desmond and squeezed his thigh. He jumped and looked nervously about the room, as he did my hand reached his groin. There was nothing to feel, not at first.
“People might see us.” He whispered.
“You didn’t worry about that when you were groping my bum early this week.” I grinned. “Come on … count to twenty and then follow me, turn right straight out of here and then up the stairs to the reading rooms, just before them there’s a plain wooden door. It’s usually locked but it isn’t today.” I gave his groin another squeeze, this time there was something to squeeze.
I had planned to be there first, was and then waited in the darkness. The time dragged and I started to wonder if he’d chickened out. I was even thinking of checked when there was a tap on the door. In panic I switched the light back on and open the door, half expecting to see a member of the public.
It was Desmond; I hauled him into the room by his tie and quickly closed the door behind him. “I said for you to come in.” I hissed.
“Sorry, wasn’t sure if it was the right door.”
I had locked the door and then switched off the light, the tiny room was instantly in almost complete darkness, and the only light came through a frosted glass window high in the wall. You’d have had to be a giant to look in through it.
“Well now you know that it is.” I pushed up against him, the bulge was still there. I gave it a rub and it seemed to grow. I folded into his arms, he tried and eventually found my face, we kissed, softly at first and then with a growing hunger.
I felt his hands on my back and then travelled quickly to my buttocks, he was moving quicker than I liked, but maybe the circumstances were driving him.
He backed me up against the low table; I felt its thin hard edge pressing against me.
He was trying to haul up my skirt, he was going to fast, way to fast, but I didn’t stop him. I already sensed that this wasn’t going to be the greatest fuck in my life.
Still I was here and had to make the best of it. I unzipped him and unfastened his trouser belt. Now I could push his trousers and shorts down. I felt his cock spring free and closed my fingers around it.
Desmond had my skirt about my waist and without any preliminaries pulled my thong down; his fingers dived between my legs, feeling for my sex.
I was wet which was a good job as Desmond’s plunging fingers slid inside me, he wasn’t clumsy but he was rough. It never fails to frustrate me how little most men know about the female anatomy… I’ll stop before this turns into a lecture.
It was obvious that Desmond was intent on getting his dick inside me as quickly as possible, either he had another appointment or thought I was going to change my mind.
“Remember to wear something.” I breathed into his ear whilst keeping my cunt locked around his fingers. He wasn’t to just slip inside me until I knew he was safe.
There followed a minutes fumbling, it went on so long that I found myself just gently rubbing my clit (something he hadn’t managed to find) whilst I waited.
“This will be ssoooo good.” Desmond whispered standing between my legs. I don’t know if he means for both of us or just him, but I have a sneaking feeling that he might not wait for me.
I keep my finger nestled on my clit and guide him inside, into the holy of holiest, my cunt, and now thanks to my manipulations, well lubricated.
“Oh yes!” Desmond cries. “That feels so good!” He starts to shag me, long even strokes so at least he knows the basic principles.
I wrap my arms about his neck and heave one foot onto the desk. He had a real clear run at me now and fearful that Desmond might cum to soon I start thinking of Jeff and how he’d treat me.
It works, well with Desmond’s eager assistance and my imagination; I’m soon rocketing towards my climax.
“Now!” I grunt. “Do it now!” I’m cumming and my pussy muscles begin to contract and I draw his sperm from within him.
Desmond starts cumming as my brief orgasm begins to subside, his stokes lose their cohesion and he stutters and jerks into his climax. I pull him as close as I can, kissing him hard on the mouth.
It has not been the best piece of sex that I have ever had. Its the chance you take with casual sex, sometimes it doesn’t measure up, sometimes the expectation proves to be better than the real thing.
I have drifted through the day, my mind caught on the prospect of the sex, building up the event until it was impossible for Desmond to get anywhere near my expectations.
Desmond steps away and tries to remove the condom without me noticing. I say nothing as there is nothing to say. Just wrap the rubber in a tissue until you can dispose of the evidence.
We dress in silence. I wonder if Desmond will try to make conversation or even fix up another date. I hope he doesn’t as I have nothing to say and don’t want another date.
He just isn’t my sort, nothing like confident and assertive enough for my tastes. I’ll have to tell him something, especially if we have to use the train everyday, but I’ll try to keep that to another day.
We leave separately but at the door I give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. I can’t be a total cow.
Chrissie appears from nowhere as I make my way to the loo.
“How was he?” She asks, failing to keep the excitement out her voice.
I almost tell her to get stuffed. “I don’t think I’ll be leaving Charlie.” I can’t admit that I’m disappointed, it would be to embarrassing, still Chrissie seems to be expecting more. “How about a drink and maybe an hours shopping, I think I’m in need of therapy.”