Heroine: The Husband's Cologne

Free Heroine: The Husband's Cologne by Elia Mirca

Book: Heroine: The Husband's Cologne by Elia Mirca Read Free Book Online
Authors: Elia Mirca
flattered and abruptly threw myself around his neck, naked as I was. I asked him what he wanted me to do. He paused for moment and then said:
    “Let's watch a porno together.”
    If that was the extent of it, then why not.
    We lay down on a rug in front of his enormous TV screen, our backs against the couch, and he inserted a DVD into the player, and the movie began.  I positioned myself between his knees, my legs curled up, and he sat behind me and held me in his arms.  How safe I felt with him!
    The film was pretty straightforward: a few men and women screwing each other, and that was about it. Then came a part where there was only a single woman in a room, surrounded by several men, five to be exact. 
    Erich began to fidget a little, and I suddenly felt something getting hard between his legs. I swiveled around and parted his bathrobe, which he had put on when we had left the bathroom. 
    “Watch the movie,” he said.
    I turned back to the screen.  I watched as the men began fucking the woman.  They were young, well-built guys, two of them black and three muscle-bound white men.
    Erich's cock was stiff.  I rejoiced inwardly and proceeded to please him, but he went limp again.  I felt frustrated, and saw a despondent look come over his features.  The porno had finished and we returned to the bedroom in silence.  We didn't discuss what had happened.  The next morning, as I was about to leave, he took me in his arms and quietly said:
    “Thank you.”

Little Red Riding Hood
     
       Had I not been able to count on Daniel coming home every weekend, I think I might have actually died of loneliness.  For it was after the meetings with Erich that I felt forlorn like seldom before.
      I might even have called on Norman, had I not been so sure that Daniel would show up; instead, I pulled myself together and tried to get through this one day of the week by looking forward to seeing my husband.
      As these thoughts occurred to me, I had to swallow hard. I was a married woman who had betrayed her husband at every turn. My troubled conscience, compounded by the isolation, made Fridays into a living hell. 
    When Daniel arrived on Saturday, we made our way straight into bed together. My shaven pussy was greeted with a cry of astonishment.  I told him that I had done it for him as a surprise, something to entice him.  He nodded in approval and went to work with his tongue, exploring the area that used to bristle with hair but was now immaculate.  Evidently it was paying off.
    Later that evening, as we lay cuddling in bed, he said that on second thought, he had actually preferred my little triangle of hair, it looked so cute, and besides, I didn't have a lot of hair to begin with.  Hearing this, I immediately decided I would grow it back. 
    Daniel drove back on Sunday evening.  This time, however, the feeling of emptiness  that usually assaulted me wasn't there.  I was a little sad to be sure, but still content and, most importantly, I didn't sink back into the black hole of despondency.  And so, that night I resolved to make a clean break and end my affair with Erich.
    On Monday, however, my good intentions seemed to have dissolved into thin air, and I was again restless and glum, and broke two plates while washing the dishes.  There was something missing inside me, and I began to wait longingly for the phone to ring. 
    This time Erich called me as early as Tuesday afternoon, as if he had read my thoughts.  Over the phone he asked me to wear something provocative.  That alone was enough to turn me on.  I stood before my wardrobe and wondered what he might like.  Finally I opted for a G-string - which I had hidden from Daniel - a pair of extremely short red pants that covered only half of my butt, and a white silk blouse, which I tied into a knot around my navel.  I was well aware that the blouse didn't leave much to the imagination.  The bra wasn't even worth taking.
    As I regarded myself in the mirror,

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