Madeleine Plays (A Wife-Watching Romance): Book Two of the Madeleine Trilogy

by Max Sebastian

  She lifted her knee up and climbed off him, looking down at him with admonishment in her eyes.

  “I need a shower,” she said, peering sternly down at him. God she looked hot in that dress. He shivered just to look at her. She must have dazzled her client.

  Hugo shook his head, gave her a serious look of his own. “Come here,” he said softly. “Give me what I want.”

  She looked confused, but he reached for her knee, made as though to lift it, and she allowed him to guide it back over his head, so that she was straddling his face, her little black panties just a whisper away from his mouth.

  “What was he like?” Hugo asked her, and pushed up her dress to reveal the tops of her hold-up stockings, and then her soaking underwear.

  “A little older,” she said, still looking confused at her husband as he touched his nose to her panties, drew in a deep breath full of her strong fragrance. “Late forties, I guess.”

  She seemed to take the decision to just go with it, whatever it was he wanted, and now sank down on his face, her satin-covered pussy touching down on his lips.

  Hugo felt almost overwhelmed by the powerful aroma of her arousal as he opened his mouth to taste her tangy, salty flavor.

  “Attractive?” he asked, hands reaching up to hold her hips as she sat on his face.

  “I guess so. Distinguished, sophisticated,” she said, and now pulled her panties to the side to slide her glistening pussy over his lips.

  “You’re so wet, honey,” he said, nuzzling into her, slipping his tongue in between her lips.

  And he tried not to freak out about the distinct smell of latex that was lacing his wife’s arousal. The slight sharpness added to her flavor from the presence of her client’s protection.

  Had she really taken someone else’s cock inside her beautifully wet pussy?

  Madeleine gasped as he sucked on her folds, penetrated her with his tongue. She leaned back for a moment or two, enjoying the sensations rippling through her body from his attention, and then when she leaned down again to check he was all right, she had the biggest smile on her face.

  She was so stunning when she smiled. He would do anything he could to inspire that.

  “God he must have thought you were so sexy,” Hugo said between mouthfuls.

  She gasped as he gently covered her clit with the heat of his mouth, and now felt her pressing down a little more, encouraging him. And she was reaching back, scoping out the hardness between his legs, which perhaps reassured her he was genuinely turned on by her.

  “Tell me what happened,” he pleaded, reaching up now to cup her breasts, his wife leaning back to squeeze his erection while pressing her crotch down over his face.

  She grinned. “You’re such a freak, Hugo Finnell,” she joked. He flashed his eyes at her, cheeks pushed out in a smile as he lapped furiously at her pussy.

  “We had a really long dinner,” she said, pulling back a little, trying to regain a little control from him, show him she needed it a little more slowly if she was going to tell him anything about her earlier encounter.

  Hugo smiled, allowing her some space, toying with her damp panties a little as she now spoke, pulling the material tight into her slit, kissing and licking around it.

  “He told me all about his business, his upbringing in Georgia—I guess he was proud of how far he’d come,” she said. “He told me about his divorce, how his wife had run off with her boss.

  “He had a big steak—I had the carbonara. It was a pretty fancy restaurant, and we both had a fair amount of wine. We just talked and talked, seemed like forever.”

  As she spoke, she leaned forward again, pulling her underwear aside again, pressing herself down on his mouth.

  “I guess I forgot to text you to keep you updated.”

  “Never mind,” he said.

  “Must’ve been close to midnight when we got back to the hotel. Nothing happened at all until we were inside his room.”

  Gently, she grazed her pussy over his mouth and his nose, controlling her pleasure and guiding her husband’s pace as he continued to lick her, slipping his tongue out to slide through her slippery folds, flick over her sensitive clit.

  She told him about how they’d got the business of the evening out of the way early on—her client had pointed to an envelope on his bedside table before he’d gone in to use the restroom.

  She’d opened the envelope briefly to see it stuffed with bills that all carried the face of Benjamin Franklin.

  “God, it felt so dirty, so wrong,” she said, gently gyrating her hips to stroke his face with her sopping pussy. “And all that money kind of ended any thoughts I had of ducking out without doing exactly what he wanted.”

  She told her husband how the man had emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxer shorts, his figure fairly trim for someone of his age, his skin tanned and chest dusted by graying hair.

  “He walked up to me and said how beautiful I was, and I found myself kinda melting,” Madeleine said. “Then we were dancing, but there was no music. Slowly stepping together, his hand slipping round to my butt, pulling me against him so I could feel how hard he was.”

  Hugo moaned as he felt his wife leaning back, squeezing his own hardness once again, her voice sounding so dreamy.

  “I guess we just danced for such a long time, even with no music at all. He just seemed to need to be close to somebody—he was happy just to hold me, running his hands gently over my back.

  “It actually helped calm me down, made me feel comfortable with him. I think he must have been quite lonely since his divorce, I felt a little sorry for him.

  “I kissed him, and I think it really took him by surprise. I guess hookers aren’t supposed to kiss their clients, huh. But he was a good kisser—slow, considerate, gentle.”

  Caught up in his wife’s account, Hugo actually found himself glad that Madeleine could give some respite to a lonely sole, almost making him forget that she had been kissing another man, dancing with him in the privacy of his room, pressing against him and his erect cock.

  “He unzipped my dress and I just let him slide it down my body,” she said. “Then he stepped back, and sat down on the bed, and I knelt down in front of him, helping him take off his underwear.”

  Hugo groaned, picturing his wife facing the shocking sight of another man’s exposed erection, but somehow the jealousy wasn’t there any more. Only the joy of her wet pussy gliding over his lips, her narration underlined by her labored breathing and melodic sighs as he feasted on her delicious juices, inspired by the way her breath caught as when he pressed into her clit, the ferocious heat from her thighs and her slippery folds, the unusual scent and flavor of her pussy as he savored her.

  He loved how confident she seemed, riding his face. How she let go of her inhibitions and any false fears about his lack of enjoyment, how she simply indulged in his implied consent that she could wedge her soaking pussy down on his lips, and he would willingly lie back and be her toy.

  But now she eased off, beginning to find his intense assault on her sensitive flesh too distracting to continue her story—and she knew full well that he wanted to hear her story. She lifted, and his face was suddenly cool under a sheen of her juices, then she flopped down on the bed next to him, though with her head down next to his hip, her own hip nudging up against his shoulder.

  “What happened?” he asked, and she smiled, grabbing his hard cock in her hand, squeezing him as she ducked down to kiss the base of his shaft.

  “I just stroked him for a while,” she said, her palm now riding gently up and down her husband’s cock. “It felt really weird, you know? Touching someone else’s.”

  Hugo lifted her nearside leg over his chest, loving the sensation of the nylon of her stocking grazing over his skin. He pushed her knee down, opening up a sweet view of her behind and her pussy just about covered by a thin band of black satin.

  “Was he big?” he asked. “Bigger than me?”

  Madeleine
shook her head, kissed the tip of his cock gently. “No,” she said. “A little longer, perhaps, but not so full as yours.”

  Hugo nodded, groaned as she slipped him inside her mouth, enveloping his sensitive helmet in her intense heat. His, the second cock she’d sucked on that night.

  “Were you disappointed?” he asked her.

  She shook her head again. “He could have had a tiny pecker, and it still would have been exciting—knowing what I was doing, what I was touching, while you were back here, probably tearing your hair out.”

  “I only tore out a little hair,” Hugo grinned.

  She smiled back, and in doing so provoked a dull throb in his cock, even while her hand was momentarily idle.

  “You went down on him?” he prompted her to continue.

  For an instant, she peered over at him, scrutinizing his face once more, trying to detect any possible signs that he was unhappy with any of this, that going on with her story might draw out the wrong kind of response from her consensually wronged husband.

  He remained the picture of curiosity and arousal.

  “He held my head as I took him in my mouth,” she said. “Showed me how he liked it.”

  “And did you like it?”

  “It was… sexy. I don’t know… I think part of it was just because it was forbidden, you know? Because it was dangerous, because it was so unexpected—I kind of thought you didn’t think I’d actually go through with it.”

  “I didn’t. Not really. Hoped you would, but didn’t expect it.”

  She slid her tongue over her husband’s cock, and now nibbled her way down his shaft before licking her way back up to his tip and swirling her tongue around his swollen purple helmet, sopping up the dribbling fluid that spoke of his excitement.

  He got the distinct impression that she was sampling him, comparing him to the other cock she’d tried earlier.

  “I guess guys can’t all have cocks as beautiful as yours, sweetie,” she purred. “But I did like it. I was pretending to be someone else—a hotel hooker. Experiencing a life I would never have known.”

  Hugo felt a burst of warmth flooding his system now, at the satisfaction that he had been able to give his pretty wife such an experience, open her up to this real thrill.

  “I probably went a little overboard, but he seemed to enjoy it,” she said. “He had to stop me, though, before he came to a sticky end all over my face.”

  “I’ll bet he had to cool off, after that treatment.”

  She smiled. “He poured us both a glass of Champagne. We did have a little breather.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “He sat me down on the bed, and stood while I took him in my mouth again, getting him ready again, you know?” She was looking up at him again, checking he was still okay with what she was saying.

  And then she lifted herself up, turned to straddle his hips, crouching over him so her pussy was inches from his rigid shaft.

  “He fucked you? He actually fucked you?” Hugo felt himself gasping for breath, trying desperately not to freak her out, dispirit her.

  In one movement, Madeleine sat down, taking his full length inside her well-lubricated pussy. He let out a long, low moan, only just managing to keep control, prevent an early explosion inside her.

  “He helped me take off my panties, then he pushed me back on the bed, lifted up my legs, and he was there, touching his bare cock to my pussy,” she said, adding: “I had to remind him about protection.”

  “Good girl,” he said as she started moving up and down on his shaft.

  “I don’t think he meant to do me without a condom,” she said, holding his hand on her waist as she rode him, as though reassuring herself he was there, he was still hers, that nothing that had happened that night had done anything to damage their bond.

  “I could hardly believe it when finally he slid his cock inside me,” she said, and saw some kind of reaction in her husband’s eyes as she bounced on his hardness that must have been elation, pure uncut elation as he throbbed inside her.

  “Does it make you jealous, honey? Hearing about it?” she asked him, tucking a rogue strand of her hair behind her ear as she looked down at him.

  “A little,” he conceded. “But it’s so hot, honey. Hearing how excited you were, how great it made you feel. You must have looked so sexy when he was making you moan, sliding his cock inside you.”

  “You’re a strange one, Hugo Finnell.”

  He flashed his eyes at her. “If you say so,” he smiled.

  She pulled herself off him, and now lay down beside him, on her stomach. “Do me from behind,” she said. “That’s how he liked it best.”

  Hugo felt his cock twitch at that. Leaving her lying on her front, he now lifted himself, slipping one knee over her thighs to lie over her, supported on his hands and knees, his cock gliding down between her thighs into the heat and dampness down under her round buttocks.

  He kissed her shoulder and found it relatively easy to push his cock into her smoldering pussy, even though her thighs were clamped together between his knees.

  Her pussy had received attention from two men that night. She was well prepared for penetration from such an angle, though they’d not really done it like this much before.

  “Oh God,” she breathed as he pumped into her, now sitting up, two hands holding her waist firmly as he fucked her.

  As his thrusting became faster, more urgent, he lifted her up, gave her room to reach forward and support herself on the headboard of the bed, while still presenting her rear for a more standard doggy-style entrance.

  “Oh Madeleine, you’re so beautiful,” he moaned as he squeezed back inside her.

  She smiled, and almost purred as he moved within her tight pussy again. She said, “Have I ever told you you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met?”

  They both came forcefully after only a little more swordplay, with Hugo feeling so strange yet so turned on to be the second man coming inside her that night, though the first had come with protection.

  While Madeleine slipped away for a shower, Hugo collapsed in the bed, exhausted, falling into a deep sleep before his exquisite wife returned.

  Eighteen

  He was in a daze for a week afterwards. He wasn’t shocked or horrified or mortally offended by what she had done: he felt a little strange, but underneath it all was unbelievably content.

  It felt as though they had climbed some monumental peak, and survived. They had achieved a great feat, and come back to tell the tale. Hugo loved Madeleine more than ever before—the experience of knowing she had been with another man, had another man inside her, had certainly not shaken that.

  If anything, knowing that she had finally gone through with it, taken the gift of her sexual independence and experienced what pleasures were available made Hugo feel satisfaction, that his gift had been enjoyed, appreciated, driving Madeleine wild with lust, turning her into a goddess of carnal desire.

  He woke up the next day feeling serene. He was like some kind of zen master, he was so calm and quietly joyous.

  Madeleine had fucked another man. She was so sexy, she was so desirable, she was his.

  Every night that next week, they made love. The first few nights, they couldn’t even wait long enough after getting in from work to have supper—their hands were all over each other, tearing off clothes, freeing up parts of anatomy for a quick confluence and red hot passion wherever they happened to be when the clothes dropped—in the kitchen, on the sofas in front of the TV, in the bedroom, even on the window seat, though the blinds remained closed. This was their time.

  Hugo was unbelievably hard, though he wasn’t always able to sustain it so long, the thought constantly on his mind that Madeleine had had a one night stand, giving her body to someone else, tearing up the marital rule book.

  He wanted to know more and more details—did she suck him? Did she swallow his come? Did he make her come when he was inside her? Yes, yes and yes. It all added fuel to Hugo�
��s fire, as he found himself subconsciously trying to compete with the other man, trying to assert his status as her primary, alpha male.

  Madeleine was seriously wet, every time Hugo came near her. To start with, she found it difficult to open up about her experience, but each successive night she seemed bolder, opening up about how nervous she’d been, particularly as the monumental events arrived—stripping off for him, seeing him naked for the first time, putting his cock in her mouth.

  Rolling the condom down his cock, straddling him, slipping it inside her.

  She blushed as she said the man had asked about whether he might become a regular client.

  “You could, you know,” Hugo said, and saw a little shock in her face that he might contemplate such a thing. “You’d probably end up earning more than me just from dating him.”

  “Dating? It wouldn’t be dating.”

  “But you’d enjoy it.”

  “I think if I actually started to be a hooker, I’d probably be so inept at it, I’d end up in jail in a week.”

  She told him she had had to stop going for workouts in the gym that week—only swimming was safe for her, she was so wet all the time. She had to carry spare panties in her purse in case her mind started drifting off to that night while she was at work.

  She was also very affectionate that whole week—if they weren’t making love, she was still touching him, brushing against him, hugging him, squeezing him, kissing him. Appreciating him, it seemed, much more than normal. He liked that.

  In bed, she was somehow different, too. More driven, more open, more vocal in her responses to him and in demanding what she wanted.

  At work, Hugo had to be careful not to make his colleagues think he was on some kind of medication. The first day back, Lowego stopped by his cubicle and asked him if he was all right.

  “Of course.”

  “You have this weird glow about you,” he said. “If you weren’t so ugly, I’d start wondering who got you pregnant.”

  Hugo chuckled at that, but silently checked himself. He couldn’t afford to give off an odd impression. What if Ray had seen him with a glow about him? It would have been merciless taunting for weeks, if he was lucky.