Message-ID: <7963eli$9804161545@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: tonytony3@juno.com (anthony anthony)
Subject: Jayne' Revenge (mmf, mmff, revenge, blackmail)
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Jayne’s Revenge, embellished by tonytony3@juno.com (mff)

“I’m so upset. I trusted Ed, and he’s screwing around!”

My eyes were red from crying, I looked like hell.

“Come on, Jayne, let’s leave work now, and talk.”

Out of the ladies room, out of the office, to a dark bar.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Helen called me. She’s at the convention, too.” Helen, Marsha, Ed, and I
all work at the same fairly large company. My husband was out of town at
an industry meeting, so was Helen.

“Helen’s staying at the Hilton, Ed’s at the Marriot. She called me an
hour ago to tell me she saw Ed leaving a room at the Hilton at 5 this
morning, with a woman - it sure as hell wasn’t me - and they both looked
like they’ve been up screwing all night.  DAMN HIM.”

“Oh hell, I thought you two were solid.”

“So did I. I’m so fucking mad!!!”

“Calm down. There’s probably an innocent explanation.”

“There’s an explanation all right. I talked to him at 9 last night. He
was ‘all tucked in for the night’. We had such big plans, our own
business, everything - damn him!” I started crying, again.

Marsha was a kind of secret  friend. She used to date Ed, but he broke up
with her, and later dated, then married, me. Ed would not like me being
friends with an ex girl friend of his.

Her arm around my shoulder felt so good. I sobbed, leaning against her,
felt her patting my back, felt - could it have been? - her kissing my
hair.  Well, that’s the sort of thing a motherly person would do.

After a bit more crying, and a few more drinks, Marsha offered, no,
insisted, that I come to her apartment for a while, to talk. It sure
wasn’t a good time for me to be alone. 

I went.

She made a salad, we had a small meal.

We talked about man problems. She was pretty angry about Ed dropping her.
“Your husband has a lot of enemies, you know. Lots of people don’t like
him.”

“I’m ready to join that club!”

“He wasn’t very nice to me,” Marsha said. 

Ed told me she had been a flash in the pan, almost a one night stand.
Right 
now anything bad anyone said about him rang true.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he wanted to do weird stuff - like, did he ever ask you to, you
know, do a three-some or anything?”

“You know we’ve only been married a year, I’ve only known him for a
couple of years, and he seemed straight and kind and all of that shit!” 

More tears, damn him! The life I hoped for was gone. I couldn’t be with a
guy I didn’t trust.

After a while she said “Jayne, I’m going to call a friend and ask him to
come over. He’s somebody else who hates Ed.”

“Who do you mean?”

“Well, Tom White.”

Tom was a skirt chasing guy who worked for Ed until Ed downsized him out
of his job. He and Ed, to say it  least strongly, were mortal enemies. 
I, on the other hand, hardly knew Tom, and rarely spoke to him at work
out of respect for Ed’s feelings.

“Ed wouldn’t want me around him.”

“Please stay, Tom’ll be able to help. Besides, Ed’s a jerk. What he wants
doesn’t count right now.”

I didn’t want to be alone, so I agreed.

Tom arrived. He’s a handsome man, not quite 6 feet tall, well built, and
when Marsha  explained what was wrong, was a warm and sympathetic person.
I was impressed that he did not start off by bad mouthing my husband.

After an hour I was sure it was time for me to go. We were in the living
room, they were on the sofa, me on the chair, and I thought they wanted
to be alone. I didn’t want to impose any more on their privacy.

“I better go.”’

“Look, we know you’re hurting,” Tom said. “Stay longer.”

He got up, refreshed our drinks, and when I reached for mine he took my
hand, instead, and pulled me up. “Come, sit by us.”

I did, and in a moment was sitting on the sofa, with  Tom between Marsha
and me. 

In a few minutes I felt a comforting arm on, then around, my shoulder.

Tom brought out a joint, lit up, shared it.

I was still sad, sometimes crying, but getting mellow, too.

The arm on my shoulder went to my cheek, turned my head to his. He moved
toward me, I responded, our lips met, and the kiss went open mouthed by
mutual consent. I’ll have to tell Ed I was kissing  Tom - that’ll teach
him. Well, my husband was fucking around, why shouldn’t I kiss his enemy?

“Ed wouldn’t like knowing  I kissed you.”

“Why would you tell him? Will he tell you who he’s been kissing?”

Marsha stood.

“I’m sorry, Marsha, I’m interfering. I’ll go home.”

“No. You are in no condition to drive. I just want to change. Stay here.”

Marsha turned on background music, and left the room. Tom, bolder, kissed
me more aggressively, and I responded in kind. It was partly to get even
with my husband, and partly because I needed the human contact. And, damn
it, because it felt so good to have someone want to kiss me. My husband
sure didn’t.

Marsha returned, wrapped in a robe. “Don’t let me stop you, kids.”

She sat beside me, now I was between the two of them.

“Your husband’s a jerk,” Marsha said, and Tom agreed. He said “Truth will
be rewarded”, leaned around me, kissed her.

“Yes, he is,” I agreed.

“Oh, I’ll reward you, too.”

By now I had drunk too much, and the pot and the music set too seductive
a mood.

Marsha, sensing the mood, said “Jayne, you can’t leave here in your
condition.  You can stay tonight. I have plenty of room.”

One part of my brain found that questionable, but another part, the part
that liked the wine and the pot and the company said “You’re right. And I
am very sleepy. And maybe I had a little too much wine and stuff.”

Marsha collected my wine glass, filled it, pulled me by the hand to the
bed room.

The bed room was neat, feminine, the bed all made up, complete with
stuffed animals on it.

“You change, too.”

“Into what?” I slurred.

“Here’s a camisole, there’s a robe.”

She left, and I got into bedclothes.

I few minutes later I emerged changed and found Tom and Marsha in an
embrace. “Sorry - I’ll stay in the bed room.”

“No, come here. We’re just good friends” - that, from Marsha.

I did.

Was positioned between them, and liked the contact. I felt secure, safe.

“Ed doesn’t know a good thing when he has it” -that, from Tom.

“That’s the truth” - from me.

“Reward the truth, Jayne” suggested - no, insisted, Marsha.

So I turned to Tom and kissed him. 

Marsha stood, then, got more wine for all of us. Another joint appeared,
was lit, shared.

Tom, out loud, said what had crossed my mind. “I think it’s time for 
Ed to learn a lesson.”

“I think so, too.” Marsha agreed, sitting beside Tom..

“I think he’d go crazy if he knew I was with you guys.”

“I’ll make him crazier,” Tom said, and turned to me, shifting me, and
himself, until we were lying on the sofa, body to body, heads in Marsha’s
lap.. 

He kissed me. Pressed  me against the sofa. Comforted me.  

One part of my mind shouted a warning, but the other welcomed the
attention. That side won, at least  for the moment. Besides, the pressure
of his body along mine felt good. I was still attractive to some men.

Marsha’s arm was touching my shoulder, then my neck, while I was being
kissed, and kissing back.

I was drunk, and high, and hornier than I realized. But this was safe,
what could happen that was bad, except for a little kissing and hugging?
After all, there were three of us here.

Marsha didn’t help the mood. “Tom, you know I dated Ed for a while," she
said, “And he asked me to do a three-some with him. I never did, though.”

It was obvious, but it just struck home. “You must have been sleeping
with Ed for him to ask you that!”

“Sure. He was a horny guy. But it was before he dated you, but yes.”

“Shit!”

Ed wondered aloud “Did he ever ask you, too, Jayne?”

“He never said anything, bust sometimes when we were making love I
wandered what he was thinking about. . ..”

“Oh, you wait and see. I’ll bet he’ll never ask about having another man,
so you’d get the most attention. We used to travel on business together,
and he was always screwing around.”

“Shit shit shit!”

His lips covered mine, shutting me up.

“Maybe this is the way to get even," Marsha said - and I must admit I was
thinking the same thing.

“I don’t want to be in a three some. . .” I didn’t realize  my comment
implied a two-some was OK!

“Me neither,” Marsha said, “but you know, if Tom’s willing, you guys
could have some fun, and you’ll probably be doing the same thing Ed is. .
.”

Being with them was  so comforting, so inviting, so welcome. . .

“Oh, I like this,” Tom muttered.

“Maybe for a while. . .”: that was consent, from me.

She and Tom exchanged a look. She stood, went into the bed room. 

In a few minutes returned, watched us holding each other, prone on the
sofa. 

“Come with me,” she said, interrupting us, and took Tom’s hand, and mine.

I went, with them.

Her bed was turned down, the room was a bit messier, closet door open,
the room brighter than before.  Tom pulled me onto the bed.  Between
them! 

It still felt good.

“I don’t want a three-some” I protested again, but was hushed first by
Tom’s hand, then his lips.

“It’s not, really. I’ll just help everyone be comfortable in my house,”
she said, as , in a moment Tom’s arms were around me again, he was
kissing me again. I wanted him to.

She was prone, too, behind me, pressing into me, pressing me into him,
and at least one of his hands, behind me, was moving, I thought against
her breast.

“This’ll teach him," someone - maybe me? said.

My arms were around Tom, his were around me, but one of hers found its
way to the back of my knee, pushing at it, until I let that leg do what
it wanted, and what she wanted, and what Tom wanted, and lifted it over
Tom’s hip. 

Every woman knows what that feels like, a man laying on his side, you,
with a leg over his, spread out, at least suggesting availability. Was I?

But I didn’t do that, I didn’t move my leg, Marsha did, my wine soaked
brain said, so it’s all right.

Tom, kissing me, pushed his hips between my legs, muttering he liked the
feeling. I was trapped between them, and felt compelled to stay, feeling
him push me, feeling her, behind me, hold me to him. It wasn’t me doing
anything. 

Tom’s lips were on mine, his tongue on mine, holding me tight. It felt so
good, being between them.

Then her hand was between us - was she going to touch me?  A warning
sounded in my mind, then were silenced. No, she was stroking him, his
cock, through his pants, that was what I was feeling. That’s OK, she’s
doing the touching, and it’s her place, she can do what she wants here.

I felt more motions, realized Marsha was doing something to his belt. I
moved my hips back a little to give her room.  I heard a zipper, felt
more shifting while we were kissing, lapping at each other, pressure
along his body from the front, from hers, along the back. Well, kissing
is all right, I thought. And Marsha can do whatever she wants, it’s her
house. And hand.

And it was exciting to be doing this to my husband’s enemy, permission
granted, I knew, because Ed had screwed around!

I felt Marsha’s hand reach over me again, around Tom’s back, and grasp my
hand by the wrist. It wasn’t me doing it, it was her.

My hand was guided from his back, over his hip, to between us. It felt
nice.

And then, with her hand still on my wrist, she guided me again, deeper
between Tom and me. I shifted a little, to create room for our hands -
that was only polite.

I felt his shirt, but then I felt an open belt, open buttons, skin.

The kissing stopped. I pulled my head away from him, looked at him, and
he, at me, while Marsha guided my hand a little lower. It reached over
the elastic of his shorts. That was OK, I thought, touching his cock
through his shorts.

Marsha said “No, darling, not like that. Like this.”  She brought my hand
 up again, pressed my fingers down a little, so that now they  were under
the elastic, on flesh, feeling hair.

Tom stared into my eyes as Marsha pushed my hand lower, into thicker
hair, then onto something else - a penis, not quite hard. And down along
the shaft, to a soft scrotum, too. She released my wrist, her hand
covered mine, moving  my fingers over him,  so sexy. She moved my hand to
the shaft, closed my fingers on it, started me moving my hand. It was
Marsha doing it, but somehow, when her hand left mine, the motion
continued.

“Doesn’t he feel nice?”

“Yes."

I could feel a gentle heat, a soft, slowing enlarging shaft.

Her hand pulled out, began some other activity. It was working on the
sash of my robe. I had begun kissing Tom again, and I wasn’t opening it,
so it was all right.

I continued touching Tom, felt Marsha busy some more. 

She took his hand from around my back, guided it, so he was stroking my
face. “Isn’t she nice to touch, so soft. . .”

“I love it,” said Tom, agreeing.

“Me too” came from my lips, then I moved so I could kiss him again.
Marsha was wonderful, being helpful, unselfish.

He broke the kiss,  stared into my eyes while his hand was moved,
supervised by hers, down my  neck,  paused on my breast, - sharp intake
of my breath when he - they - did that. His hand, and hers, moved more, 
over my hip, and down my thigh.

“I still love it,” he said, and I, being thrilled, excited, agreed :“Me
too.”

My hand somehow increased pressure on his penis as his hand moved to my
leg, covered by the robe.

I felt the robe move, Marsha was pulling it, until his hand was on the
outer side of my thigh, on my skin.

“Do you want me to show you what Ed was doing last night?“ Marsha asked. 

I nodded, still staring at the man whose cock I was stroking.

Now his hand was being moved up my leg,

higher, 

and between them, 

until it found my panty protected crotch.

I felt his hand being guided  higher still, to the waistband of my
panties, and then, it was on my belly.

And it felt nice!

His hand, hers, too, was rubbing my belly, and moving over the top of the
panties.

“Maybe you should help” Marsha said.

I didn’t want to move the hand holding his cock, but did.

I pulled it from his pants, put it between us, found her hand holding his
wrist, moved mine lower, over his hand ,  to his fingers, just touching
the elastic waist band of my panties.

Lifted the waist band over his fingers.

Brought that hand back, over his, over hers.

“Go on, show us what you want. . .”

Forgive me, God, but I pushed at her hand, at his, started them both
moving again, now against my skin, lower than my belly, moving between my
legs. I knew what they must think about me, with my legs still parted,
one on the bed, the other over his hip.

I watched his face as his fingers moved over my pubic hair, then lower. 
My own hand found his cock again, in time to feel it start to enlarge, as
his fingers found the top of my vulva, moved into it, into its heat,
feeling as wet  as  I had even been, finding my clit, touching it, making
me see lightening flashes, making my body twitch, and jerk.

His cock was larger now, as his fingers stroked me and explored me and
excited me.

Her hand moved, over the back of his, then over his fingers, hers finding
his moving in me, then around them, until her fingers were at my lips,
then in, lower, and deeper, probing, expanding me, widening me.

 I knew my mouth was open, my face glowing red.

I couldn’t help myself, but moved my leg even more over his hip, so that
as his hand and her hand had easier access to me.

He had my clit between thumb and forefinger, pinching, teasing, and she
had two fingers in me, spreading me- no, it had to be three, two holding
me apart, the third probing, touching. . .

My own hand stopped stroking his cock, now almost erect, because
everything they were doing was so distracting.

“Oh, I think she likes this, Tom.”

“Do you, Jayne?”

I was silent.

Their stroking me ended as though by some unspoken command.

“Yes, I do, don’t stop.”

 There was motion behind me. I looked to see Marsha sitting up, taking
off her robe, exposing a modest camisole. Her arm motions raised it, so I
could see no panties under it. No bra, either.

“Now you can, too”, she suggested, pulling at my robe. I sat up, and in a
moment it was off, too, but the cotton camisole covered my breasts,
panties, moist now, offering critical protection - for the moment. 

My wined loosened tongue spoke before I had a chance to edit the
statement. 

“We’re in night clothes, what about him?”

“We’ll do him, too.”

She moved to the head of the bed, tugged at his shirt, he helped, it was
off over his head in a moment. He reached for me again, the kissing
started again, his open pants a source of a lot of body heat.

“Will this be a good lesson for Ed?”

“MMmmm.” was my reply.

Marsha knelt at his head, told me to go to the foot of the bed, and I
did, kneeling at his feet. She pushed, I pulled, he shifted a bit, lifted
his hips, and we both watched as his pants left his legs, leaving behind
jockey shorts hiding an almost erect cock.

“Let me show you how to make that bigger,” she said, and leaned over his
head, her scoop neckline exposing her breasts to me, until her mouth was
on his belly. Her mouth found the erection covered by his shorts, she
nuzzled it.  She sat up, reached over him, to me kneeling at his feet,
pulled at me, until my head was hovering over his cock. 

“Think of what Ed was doing last night. Wouldn’t this be a sweet
revenge?”

I nodded, looking at him.

“Well, damn it, do me!” Tom said.

“Take his shorts off, Jayne.”

I sat back,  pulled at them, watched his cock spring free, watched as he
moved both legs to the side, kicked the shorts free of  his legs.

Watched as he put his legs on either side of me.


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