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You stand gazing down at the whale tale of a thong.
My passion barely cooled over the years, and I was sure that Rick had no complaints. We alternately made love and fucked, and we were spontaneous. We also loved experimentation, although if we were both really horny our always successful standby was Rick sitting on the couch and me sitting on his cock facing away from him. I just loved it when that big mushroom head snaked its way up my willing pussy, and in that position he could squeeze my boobs and I could massage his balls as we fucked.
When we had been married five years, and it was about six months before my twenty-eighth birthday and just after Rick's thirtieth, we decided that it was time for a bambino. My plan all along was to quit working as a masseuse and put Alicia into mothballs once I got pregnant. I would continue to work part time at the gym until my third trimester, after which I would stop working all together and become a stay-at-home Mom, at least until a second child was in school.
Rick was thrilled to go along with my plan. The small business that he owned was doing very well. While we were not likely to become filthy rich, we were certainly financially comfortable.
I found out that I was pregnant two days before my twenty-eighth birthday, when I was about five weeks along. I didn't tell Rick right away for two reasons. The first was that I wanted to tell him under the right circumstances and parlay that news into a long weekend fuck fest at some luxury resort. The second was that I wanted to immediately start winding down my massage business and wanted to see how easy that was going to be before I gave him the good news.
Of course you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice, men, and women, don't you; they sometimes get fucked up. Mine did.
It was probably the pregnancy hormones that caused my tolerance for the married assholes that hit on me to evaporate, and turn to some sort of a psychological revenge against my father by fucking up the assholes. When Charles, one of my regular married male clients, was none too subtle, and even mistakenly on purpose exposed his dick to me during a massage the day after my birthday, something in me snapped.
"Charles you love to talk a big game, but I don't think that your body can cash the checks your mouth writes," I flirtingly said while finishing up his massage a few minutes after his "wardrobe malfunction" (actually a "towel" malfunction).
"Oh yeah," was his enthusiastic reply. "Try me."
"I don't think that you'd be willing to go along with what I'd be up for; I like games," I replied in a seductive voice.
The towel on his crotch mysteriously rose up as he responded "Just tell me what you have in mind."
"Give me your cell phone number when we're done and after I make some plans I'll give you a call," I tittered.
Of course he did give me his cell phone number and tried to kiss me, but I warded him off, although I didn't go ballistic when he gave me a pinch on my ass - instead I just smiled.
In the next two days, three other married guys hit on me for about the umpteenth time each, and I handled them much the same way as Charles. Over that weekend I called and canceled all of my other clients, telling them the truth - that I was taking a long hiatus to deliver my first child - and devoted the rest of my time to making the married philanderers pay.
My plan to teach the cheaters a lesson was simple in concept, difficult in execution. I planned to tell them to meet me in a hotel room, and to lay on the bed blindfolded and naked waiting for me. I promised that when I arrived that I would suck then fuck them. In reality, I would get their wives there under the pretense of meeting their husband, and see how things played out. I would hide a video camera in the room and film their sessions to see how complete my revenge was.
All four guys were thrilled with my little game-playing suggestion.