Mickey France

A young wife_s revenge

CHAPTER ONE

The man parked his weary old Chevrolet out in the street, rather than pull it into the circular driveway where it would have looked ludicrously out of place. The man himself looked out of place… as weary and out-of-date as his automobile. His pleated out-of-fashion trousers were shiny in the seat, the occupational hazard of a patrol car cop or a man who spends long hours seated behind the wheel of his car waiting for something or someone. And that was his profession: A man hired to wait patiently… a man paid to observe and put his observations in printed or photographic form.

He scratched the black-gray stubble of his beard as he pushed the button beside the door. Somewhere deep in the confines of the house, he could hear the chimes. It was an expensive sound… just as the house was expensive… and the woman who lived in the house, and who had hired him.

She opened the door, and once again the man felt his groin tighten in desire for her. She was taller than his five foot nine by at least three inches… “statuesque” that was the only word for her, he thought. Her breasts were like Arkansas cantaloupes, so ripe that a man’s hand wouldn’t begin to cover the mound of flesh; and she had a way of looking at a man that caused his balls to melt and his prick to freeze. It was all he could do to keep from moaning deep in his throat just from the sight of her. For a brief moment he thought he would have liked to have spent hours just watching her, but he knew that would be a painful mistake… even watching her for a minute or two was too much. To look at her was to want to go down on her and fuck hell out of her… and the man knew he had about as much chance of doing that as he had of becoming President of the United States.

“Mister Shelton, Come in please.” she ordered, and the sound of her voice coming from those full, generous lips, sent a tingle rippling along his inner thigh.

“Mrs. Akron,” he acknowledged, feeling at once stupid, ill-kempt and uncivilized.

“We can talk in the library.” she said, and turned away from him to lead the way to the room.

He followed, watching her buttocks move sinuously in the tight hip-huggers. She was all motion, smooth, powerful, welcoming. God, he thought, how beautifully she swings that ass. In his mind he kissed and nibbled like a hungry rabbit at those supple mounds of moving muscle, and could almost feel his pecker slowly slipping between them. That was a mistake; one that if allowed to grow to fruition would not go away for a long time. By a supreme effort, he finally made his errant penis subside.

The woman motioned him to the couch and then eased herself into a large leather chair facing him. As she sat, he noticed the way her slacks tugged in between her legs; her delectable pussy was clearly outlined… the whole wonderful vaginal slit was there, hiding just behind the cloth. To kiss that would be heaven! His dreaming penis stirred restlessly again at the thought, for he knew she wasn’t wearing a damned thing under the slacks.

“Well, Mister Shelton… you heard some news?”