She had miscalculated the journey time to her hairdressers and the amount of water she had consumed and she really, really needed to pee. Taking a swift detour she arrived at our home in the middle of the day, the house was empty and she wouldn't be late if she hurried.
She burst through the front door and pounded up the stairs into the bathroom to run slap bang into me.
"You scared the shit out of me, why aren't you at work?" She shouted, then stopped with her mouth open in surprise and shock. Her loving husband of two years (me) was standing in front of the mirror dressed in lingerie. I turned and went a bright shade of puce.
"What the fuck are you up to?" she gasped in astonishment.
"No I haven't got time for this shit, but you are going to be punished when I do have time" she growled as she dropped her knickers to the floor dancing in need of relief.
A mischievous grin touched her lips and eyes as she forced me back to flop helplessly on the toilet behind me. As she straddled me she looked deep into my eyes and released a hot stream almost wilting with relief and clamping her hands over my mouth to shut me up.
"Not a fucking word!" she hissed.
Standing she folded some toilet tissue and handed it to me, pointing at her vagina. I obediently patted her dry, she turned on her heels to pull up the knickers giving me a close up of her perfect arse as she bent over.
Without another word she ran down the stairs and continued her journey.
She was sitting in the hairdresser chair waiting and hated the waiting part. She started flicking through her favourite website, LoveHunny trying to be inventive with her punishment. Her attention was drawn to the strapons, especially the black strapons.
"Sweetheart the real ones are much more pleasurable" said her hairdresser Vincent peeking over her shoulder. She jumped, startled. She had an excellent relationship with Vincent and he had become her confidant over the years. He was a strapping black man with a winning smile and muscles that could crush nuts, he had a strong sense of self and exuded confidence. She had long suspected that his flirting was a cover for his other sexual interests.
In a quiet undertone she told him what she had discovered and why she was researching on the website.
Vincent bent over and whispered in her ear, what he said made her gasp in a combination of shock and intrigue. She felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room.
The text messages she then sent ordered me to be dressed in my most alluring underwear by the time she got home, and woe betide me if I hadn't cleaned up. She left the hairdressers with giddy excitement, eager anticipation butterflies in her tummy, the radio was playing the old Beach Boys number 'Good Vibrations' and that gave her a dirty little idea! She grinned with the knowledge that she had an activity to while away the time until the hairdressers closed.
The traffic was awful, her knickers were damp, damn the other bloody drivers. Waiting in line to take the turning to their house she risked a quick touch of her vagina, oh it was sopping and felt so nice under her fingers. She turned to her right to look at the cars waiting alongside and felt a delicious thrill knowing the two men in the van were so close but so ignorant of her fingers teasing her clit. It was almost a shame when the lights changed. She needed to cool down or there would be a crash, the a.c. was on and the fan was angled to blow cooling air over her legs, her summer dress had ridden up her thighs exposing her long, strong legs to the air flow. "Calm the fuck down" she admonished herself, she needed to pace this better.
Now she had arrived home the doubts started. They had shared many fantasies and had been very frank with each other, however I had always been adamant that fantasy was just that. She took out her phone and took a vagina selfie, it was a glistening, wet mess with a landing strip pointing the way. She sent the pic to me without comment. I knew she was home having heard the car pull up.
I eventually sent her a pic of my black lace covered erection.