A short story in three parts

A Cuckold, His Hotwife and Her Lover, Part 1: Evie.

A Saturday lunchtime. A young married couple at home receive an unexpected visit

Even though it has gone midday, Evie has yet to dress. She is naked beneath her short satin kimono, sitting on the sofa nestled amongst heaped cushions. A faux fur throw covers her bare thighs, feet tucked beneath her buttocks.

She remains pissed off with Martin for coming home drunk, rolling into bed in the early hours, unable to string a coherent sentence together.

So this afternoon, she cheers herself up by looking for a holiday online, her iPad warming her knees through the fur of the throw.

The doorbell rings, but she does not move to answer it. She hasn’t ordered anything from Amazon this week. It must be a delivery for Martin.

But there is no sound of him stirring in the room above, so she stands and pulls the tie of her kimono tight before leaving the room. As she passes the bottom of the stairs, she calls up to her husband, “Martin! Are you awake?”

She waits a moment. No reply. She continues down the hall and opens the front door. There is no delivery person bearing brown parcels waiting outside, only the husband of her best friend, Lisa.

It is Hudson, the man she once kissed and then blew at a party on a bed piled with coats.

“Oh,” she says, looking eye to eye with the problem which now faces her. The tall, broad-shouldered, handsome young man gazes at her in the way he invariably does when first greeting her. There is something about Hudson that gathers together all the strands of Evie’s needs, a bundle of energy that thrums at the core of her cunt.

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” Hudson eventually asks. He smiles, amused by how his unexpected appearance flusters her.

“You were the last person I expected to see,” she says, standing aside and letting him pass.

She closes the door behind him and says, “I thought Lisa had you on a tight rein these days.”

“I’m here on Lisa’s orders, actually,” he says. And then, looking around, “Where’s soft-lad?”

“Martin’s still in bed — and please don’t call him that!”

“Do you want me to go and tip him out?” he says.

“Jeez, no. He didn’t get in until four this morning.”

“Left you on your own, did he? You should have phoned. I’d have been over in a shot.”

Evie wonders if Martin is awake and can hear them talking.

“I’ll tell him you’re here,” she says, wanting to ease past him. But he does not move; he has blocked her way and is taking her gently by the wrist, turning her to face him and telling her, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why are you here, Hudson?” she asks.

She holds his gaze, daring him to say it.

“Ah, the reason,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope and holding it up for her to see.

She takes it from him and turns it in her hand. It is small and square, the paper high quality, the contents stiff.

“Who’s getting married?” she finally asks.

“Not a wedding. It’s Lisa’s sister’s thirtieth, actually. Do you remember Mandy?

“Of course I do.” “Don’t ask me why, but she wants you and Martin there.”

“But does Lisa?” she asks, placing the invitation unopened on the small telephone table that stands in the hall.

“Lisa’s cool.”

“She’s forgiven me, then?”

“Water under the bridge.” He takes her in his arms and kisses her.

It feels so good to be kissed by Hudson again, to be enfolded by his certainty, to sense his undisguised need for her. There is something quite unappeasable about his body, and she wonders if there isn’t anything she wouldn’t allow him if he were to ask.

As they kiss, his hand slides down the silk of her kimono, lifting its hem, taking a handful of flesh and squeezing her left butt cheek.

“God, Evie, I’ve waited so long to see you again,” he says when they break off from kissing. “God, I’ve so got to have you.”

“But not here,” she tells him.

“Where then?” He does not wait for an answer, gagging her with his tongue.

“She breaks from him again, her breath betraying her excitement. “Upstairs.” It is more an exhalation than a word.

“What about Martin?”

“As he’s already in bed, I thought we could surprise him.”

“Really?” he says, hardly daring to believe what is happening.

“We’ve talked about it. It’s okay. He doesn’t mind.”

To continue reading, click on Part 2 below.