Married on Mondays

by HoneyB

  Sundays consisted of going to sunrise church service with her sisters, then to the spa with her sisters, shopping with her sisters in the afternoon, then having a late lunch with her sisters. Monday evenings Foxy had a standing appointment to share quality time with Winton, if that was what one could call having dinner. She hadn’t been vaginally penetrated by her husband in three years.

  “Have a good day, honey,” Foxy told her husband, kissing his lips. “Think you’ll be home by midnight?” she asked, hoping to encourage him.

  Shaking his head, Winton answered, “Not tonight, sweetheart. The new client, remember? You know her case is going to be all over the news today, so I have to get on top of this one early. Don’t wait up.” He gestured for another kiss. “Oh, and I need to call your cousin Dallas about his DUI. Figured out a way to get the charges dropped.”

  “I appreciate you so much, baby,” she said, giving him a lingering kiss.

  Why couldn’t she be honest with her husband? In a man’s world, a man having sex with multiple women wasn’t perceived the same as a woman sexing multiple men. Winton’s coming home after midnight meant she’d cook, have dinner, fuck her ex-fiancé Dallas, make it home before midnight, bathe, then fall asleep before Winton eased into bed beside her.

  Winton put on his eyeglasses, snapped open his Crème City Times newspaper, lowered it to his lap, then said, “I love you, woman,” staring at her ass.

  Foxy swayed her booty. The attitude in her butt should’ve conveyed to him that she was getting dicked-down really good by some man. Her husband was either too blind to notice, didn’t want to see the truth, or like most foolish husbands, he assumed she’d never cheat on him. She turned her head, gave her husband a wink, and smiled before strutting out the door of their lake view home on South Shoreline Drive for a morning quickie with the man she could’ve married.

  CHAPTER 4

  Winton

  His wife wasn’t out the door two seconds before he’d started getting prepared for Nova. Winton was excited and nervous to meet face-to-face for the first time the woman men all around the world fantasized about fucking. Nova had graced the cover of sports magazines with swimsuits the width of shoelaces. He was anxious to find out if her perky breasts were real. One lingering, tight embrace and he’d know.

  He retrieved the warming gel from his medicine cabinet, turned on the shower, saturated his left hand, then stroked his dick. He was proud to have a dick the size of a ten-inch-long salami. He had no idea how Foxy swallowed his entire billystick, but she was the only woman that had.

  The heated sensation of his dick got hotter with each stroke. “I bet Nova’s pussy is hot like this,” he said, stroking faster. “Open your mouth.” He visualized his dick waxing her lips. “Ah, yes. Suck the head, baby. Harder. Harder.” He grunted. “You ready for this hot cum. Hold your titties together. I’m getting ready to… ah, yes.” He imagined cumming on her nipples, then watching her lick his creamy cum, as his seeds washed down the drain. “Damn, that bitch was good, and she doesn’t even know it.”

  He shaved extra close. In case she initiated a hug, he didn’t want his mustache to scratch her multimillion-dollar face. His Sexualé cologne was usually reserved for after work but not today. He brushed his teeth twice, rinsed three times, and shoved a handful of peppermints in the inside jacket pocket of his five-thousand-dollar suit before getting in his luxury sedan.

  The second he started his engine, the Bluetooth connected. He dialed the office from his cell.

  “Brown, Cooper, and Dawson, how may we represent you?”

  “Hey, this is Winton. I’m on my way. I should make it there before my client, but if I don’t, call me immediately when Ms. Nova Scotia arrives,” he told his assistant.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Brown. Anything else?”

  “That’ll be all,” he said, pressing the end button on his steering wheel. His standard commute time was thirty minutes.

  Six-thirty Tuesday morning there was moderate traffic on the freeway into the city. Another hour and cars would be bumper-to-bumper the way he wanted his dick on Nova’s ass.

  The golden pyramid landmark, owned by his firm, occupied one square block and marked the center of Crème City. Winton parked in the garage, rode the express elevator to the fiftieth floor. The top floor was exclusively his. Its peak marked the highest point of all the downtown structures. His partners shared the floor below. The forty-eighth floor was their courtroom, the place where they conducted mock trials prior to going to court.

  Winton fully extended his office windows six inches, then inhaled the fresh air. He had the most amazing 360-degree panoramic view and was the only man that could look down on every business and residence in the city whenever he wanted. He gloated at being the envy of all his counterparts. Winton refused modesty. He’d worked exceptionally hard to become the best lawyer in the country, taking on cases others believed impossible to win. His ethics and consistency earned him first right of refusal on the majority of big cases like Nova’s.

  His intercom buzzed, then he heard, “Ms. Scotia has arrived.”

  Spraying air freshener, he pressed the button, then replied, “Great, send her in.”

  The strong air-conditioned breeze blowing through his office floor vent blew Nova’s sheer white skirt above her hips as she entered. He struggled to keep his focus on her and off her hot body. The exposure hadn’t fazed her, but her super-protruding nipples made him feel like a deer caught in her headlights.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing toward the two chairs across from him.

  Nova slid her chair from the opposite side of his desk. She sat diagonal, facing him. If she extended her leg, she’d touch his. Normally he’d tell his clients not to move either of his chairs, but he was glad she’d taken the initiative to come closer.

  His eyes scanned from her lap, up to her lips, and back to her nipples. If he were ordering from an à la carte menu as he’d done countless times, he wouldn’t know what delicacy to choose first. He felt the gleam in his eyes shining from her light.

  Lord, why me? Yield not to temptation again, man, he thought, then said, “Excuse me.” He inhaled long and slow, lowered his eyes, stared at the V that had gathered between her thighs, scratched his brow, tapped his pen on the desk, then pushed back his chair. Her headlights commanded his attention. The wheels glided along the plastic mat giving him, giving them, three feet of space. His eyes lost contact with her nipples, but the image was etched in his mind.

  The morning sunrays beamed through the windows, over his shoulders, and onto his computer screen making it difficult for him to enter data into her file. Bypassing the thermostat that registered sixty-seven degrees, he closed his office door, considered locking it, but didn’t. That wasn’t a good idea. He twirled the rod until the interior blinds closed. Didn’t want his staff or counterparts walking up observing his interaction with Nova. He pressed a button. The wooden horizontal blinds covering the exterior windows tilted upward, redirecting the sunshine toward the ceiling, away from his computer.

  Winton glanced at Nova’s silky legs. Her French pedicure, long thin legs, and slender feet exemplified… sexxxy. If he were fortunate, he’d have them wrapped around his waist soon. He didn’t believe in luck.

  Her crushed diamond slip-on stiletto dangled across toes he’d dreamed about kissing, sucking, stuffing in his mouth while fucking the shit out of her missionary style, so he could admire her beauty and observe her distorted facial expressions as she came for him. The lace straps of her glittery candy- apple red thong stretched over the elastic waistband of her skirt, shaping her butt cheeks into an incredible heart. He’d love to bury his face in her butt and lick her asshole.

  Damn. Winton wasn’t sure if he should thank Nova’s man or curse him. His timing sitting back in his chair was impeccable as she uncrossed her thighs, fanned her skirt above her knees, then crossed her ankles. He got a whiff of her sweetness and almost got a view of her crotch. Was her pussy fat, flat, cameltoed
? Did she have a landing strip? Was her pussy bald?

  Smoothing his hand over his mustache to shield his parting lips and hard tongue, Winton exhaled into his palm, then said, “Start from the beginning, end with telling me how you became so mad with your boyfriend that you ran into him with your car.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Winton

  What attracted a married man to a woman other than his wife?

  During his twelve years of practicing law, he’d represented many gorgeous women. Short. Tall. Plus size. Bald. Long hair. Average looking. Thin. He’d sex a woman less attractive than his wife without reservation, knowing he had a better-looking wife at home. If he ever divorced or separated from his wife, if only to make his wife jealous, he had to have a woman more gorgeous and more successful than his wife.

  A few times he’d slipped into the arms of his clients for comfort, three women to be exact. An attractive woman could do many things for a married man—make him feel good about himself, remind him he was worthy of praise and pussy for his hard work, or let him know the grass wasn’t always greener (on her side), giving him good cause to redirect the generosity he exhibited toward her toward his wife.

  Nova’s succulent lips, the lips his wife obviously envied, parted just enough for him to see her sparkling Lumineers. Did she taste minty, fruity, or like sugar in the raw? The red rouge on her upper lip blended into a vibrant pink tease on her lower lip. Her mouth was surrounded by a hint of chocolate liner. He imagined her inner and outer pussy lips and her shaft were the same, a blend of red, pink, and chocolate.

  “My boyfriend is hot. The tabloids just announced he was voted the sexiest man in America. You know that? Of course, you do. Everybody knows he’s the hottest man alive. But I can’t control these groupies. He has women in heat all over him, all the time. I mean, I have my share of men flirting with me, but the difference between how fans respond to a male celebrity versus a female celebrity is women are bitches. And desperate bitches in heat will do anything to get a man. Those bitches make me soooo mad,” she said, making fists. “I want to”—right, left, right she punched the air—“beat their asses to the ground.”

  She inhaled, then continued, “But I refuse to be their financial ticket out of poverty because most of them don’t have anything to offer my man except their broke-ass pussy. Those bitches have no respect for my man. They have no respect for themselves. And they damn sure nuff don’t have respect for me.”

  Nova stood, stepped to him, then said, “Let me show you what I mean. One woman tried breast-feeding him in front of my face. Can you believe this?”

  She raised her skirt, straddled his chair, shoved her irresistible 100 percent authentic titties in his face, grabbed her blouse, lowered her top, then rubbed her super nipples across his mouth.

  Fuck! It took every ounce of fortitude to keep his hands off her. He recalled squirting cum on her nipples while he masturbated in the shower earlier. He nibbled before leaning back. Squeezing her biceps, his dick hardened against her thong. He felt her engorged shaft grinding against his billystick.

  “Ou, you’ve got a nice big one,” she said, retreating to her seat. “But you see what I mean. Men don’t disrespect me that way in front of him, so why do these bitches keep testing me?”

  Precum oozed from Winton’s dick. He’d done nothing wrong this time. How was he to know she’d show him her tits and tell him things that made him want to fuck the shit out of her sexy ass right now? He loved her edginess. Her fire was what he desired.

  The growl of Nova’s voice when she said, “One way or another this will come to an end,” turned him on.

  He visualized her ripping off his shirt, pushing him on his desk, yanking his dick out of his pants, and wildly slopping those hot juicy lips over his head, slobbering his precum in her mouth, then smearing it on like lipstick.

  Bitch, you are so fucking fantastic you can have any man you want including me, and you are sitting here tripping over this one guy who obviously doesn’t deserve you. Why?

  Lifting her skirt, she’d push her thong aside, then mount him, this time squatting on the big-ass dick his wife loved to suck but hadn’t fucked in years. Nova would sit there and let her pussy muscles work his dick out until he exploded inside her.

  “Hello! Are you paying attention? I said… why do these bitches keep testing me?”

  CHAPTER 6

  Winton

  Oh-damn. Massaging his erection underneath his desk, Winton regained focus, then asked, “Is this really about the other women, your strained relationship with your man, or do you have anger management and control issues?”

  “Pick one. Hell, pick ’em all!” Nova yelled, leaping from her seat.

  Her titties bounced. He picked up his pen, tapped it on the desk. Her nipples were still hard as his dick. She probably never needed nipple suction cups like his mistress. Isis had worn the cups so much she’d trained her small introverted nipples to protrude. Inputting insignificant data, he tapped on his keyboard. He’d get the facts during her deposition.

  Nova was taking client confidentiality to a new level. What if one of his partners Acer or Naomi had walked in his office while Nova was straddling him? She knew what she was doing to him. Or did she? Did he? Was his assumption that she wanted to fuck him conclusive? Struggling to maintain professionalism, Winton eased his hand from his computer midway down his thigh and choked his dick, forcing his erection to subside.

  “Now what really pisses me off is when he flirts back at women in front of my face. That’s blatant disrespect. And why is his fucking ex-girlfriend always showing up at every one of his concerts? I hate that trifling bitch. She sits in the front row and she makes her way backstage, and he fucking talks to her like I’m not there. I hate her ass! If she was so fucking hot, why did he leave her for me?” Nova shouted, flopping in her seat.

  The answer was standard. Men were dumb, nah, make that stupid, when it came to dealing with women. And men acted a damn fool when they dealt with supermodels.

  Men who mistreated fine women made it easy for other men to slide their dick into home plate. Winton hadn’t been attracted to a woman other than Foxy during the first year of their marriage. Shortly after their first anniversary, he started spending less time at home. Why bother exerting energy to make love to a woman who refused to have his baby until she was ready?

  Cumming in his wife’s mouth allowed him to stop praying for the son he desperately wanted to carry on his name and inherit his empire. Until Foxy was ready to have their baby, he’d deny her the pleasure of having his dick make her cum. And he’d keep wrapping his dick up while fucking his mistress.

  His first affair lasted longer than he’d anticipated, an entire year. His subsequent affairs were back-to-back and each also lasted a year. And while he hated ending each relationship, he had to. Soon he’d have to end his affair with Isis. Perhaps he could replace Isis with Nova. New pussy excited him.

  None of the women he bedded was worth leaving his wife for. He’d told them that. Not the “not worth” part. He’d told them he wasn’t leaving his wife no matter what. No way would Foxy walk away with half his assets. Being with a woman that he’d never leave his wife for evoked emotional pain for those women, but not for him. The more he sexed them, the more attached they’d become. The better he had sexed them, learned their bodies, discovered their erogenous zones, made them cum hard, the more possessive they’d become.

  Better for him to let them go before any of his women showed up at his front door, or worse, in the courtroom during one of his trials. He’d stopped answering their calls. Stopped responding to their messages, knowing if he’d let go, eventually they’d let go too. The advantage to living in the largest populated city in America was that he could easily avoid the places he used to take his ex-mistresses and start over. Find a new mistress and take her to new places.

  Isis claimed, like his previous, she understood he was married. He tried to train Isis to keep her mouth shut by telling her, �
��You have to keep this between us. I’m a private man. Everyone knows me, so you can’t go around telling my business. What happens between us is our thing. It’s special. If you tell your friends, they’ll mess it up for us and I’ll have to let you go.”

  Lately Isis had told her family and friends that he was close to popping the question. That was a lie. She’d asked, “Baby, do you think we’ll ever get married?” And he’d replied, “The way my wife is acting, we should.” How she interpreted that to be a semiproposal was beyond him. A few more hits on Isis’s pussy and she’d be history.

  Winton wondered if Nova’s concern was losing her man to another woman or that, if his ex won him back, she’d single-handedly make Nova a paparazzi disaster. Would he become a public failure if Foxy left him for another man? Nonsense. His wife would never cheat on him. Foxy was faithful to him, and she deserved a little of the extra time she’d pleaded for this morning.

  Why did he have to take Nova on as a client? Acer had passed. Naomi too. Maybe he should try to convince Acer to reconsider representing Nova. Acer was the only serial monogamous man Winton knew that hadn’t cheated on his wife.

  “You hate your ex so you hit him with your car? Did he hit you first? Assault you? Has he ever hit you? Were you in fear of your life so you were trying to get away from him and accidentally hit him? Maybe you didn’t see him standing on the sidewalk, thought you were hitting your brakes but accidentally pressed your foot on the gas?”

  Nova frowned. Her mouth pouted into a sexy O as her lips exposed her teeth. Winton imagined pressing his dick head into her mouth, parting her lips and teeth wide enough to slide his dick inside. Fair exchange was amicable. If he covered her ass, she should polish his trophy with those humongous lips.