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New year erotic story (newyear,erotic,2017)



New year erotic story



She found herself wanting to take things from her. It was a strange obsession, as if taking small things from her life would somehow add up and leave her without any possessions and make her husband not want her anymore. 



She didn't even like her stuff; her taste was so different from hers. But she did have one thing she wanted - that wedding ring, the ring that symbolized his love for her and all the promises he had made that kept him from being completely hers. Taking her scarf, stealing a necklace - he let her have all of it, he didn't care. In the beginning he was cautious, careful not to take anything she would miss and agonizing whether it would be something they could blame on the nanny having lost. Now he willingly tore through her things, recklessly taking items as though he was a thief, hurriedly robbing his own house. He would have given her anything she had asked for.

Everything he gave her that belonged to her became a small victory, as if she was building a life with him block by block, with all her things repurposed and rearranged - into something, better. 



This women's life was being dismantled piece by piece and she didn't even know. 



They would not be together for New Year's Eve- he had pledged to stay at home with his wife and the baby, watching the ball drop on TV at Times Square, just a few miles from their apartment. Earlier that day, he had carelessly forgotten to buy champagne for later before going to her apartment. He always forgot things around her- she was the type of woman who made grand thoughts perish from an intelligent man's head the way clouds disappeared behind the Alps.



She didn't even hesitate. She got up from where she was lounging on her bed watching him put back on his suit and walked over to the wine fridge with just her blue thong with the miniature satin bow. He watched as her beautiful calf muscles flexed all the way from her thin ankles to her bare ass as she stood on her tiptoes and reached inside for a bottle. She handed it to him without a word, retaking her position on the bed as before.



He looked down at the cold bottle in his hand, cradling the familiar black curve of the Dom Perignon with both hands.



"I can't take this, it's too expensive," he stammered. 



She had laid down at this moment, her arms crossed over her eyes and her naked breasts pointing to the ceiling.



"Take it, its fine," she said softly from underneath her folded arms.



He put the bottle down on the counter and walked over to sit on the edge of her bed. His eyes followed the curve of her left breast and he couldn't help tracing his finger along the soft skin. 



"Ow! Your hands are cold," she said and pulled herself to her side to avoid his touch. He winced. He knew she was upset that he was leaving her. She always was. In the beginning she had made it look as if she didn't care. But it had been months now and he could almost predict the desolate look in her big brown eyes as he readied to go home. She always held it together for him and he knew she did it for him. She would put on a smile, kiss him deeply as though she'd never see him again, and close the door behind him.



As he walked towards the subway along the old stone rim of Central Park, he would picture her leaning against the closed door, her eyes swelling with tears. She'd close them eventually, letting the warm drops seep out at the edges as though they were shameful scraps of her that she did not wish to see. 



It was getting harder to leave her. The thought of her crying because of him pricked at his throat as he made purposeful strides towards the life he had chosen.

When he got home, his wife was waiting for him in jeans and a thick strapped silver sequined top - her version of New Years. She had even straightened out her short hair and put on some makeup. He knew she was trying, somewhat, and she did look nice.

He brought out the champagne from his messenger bag in triumph and put on his biggest smile. As she cocked her head trying to read the label, he knew she had no idea how exquisite a champagne they had been gifted.

After the baby fell asleep, they sat arm in arm on the couch watching celebrities sing on TV, the bubbles racing up the glasses of her Dom in their hands as they waited for the countdown. He could not help feeling anxious, wondering what she was up to, thinking of what party she would attend and what small scrap of fabric she would don so that undoubtedly every man would salivate in her presence. The thought of her half naked in a party dress and high heels around drunken Wall Street types made him so uneasy that he wanted to claw out of his skin from agitation. He had even begun to unconsciously bounce his knee up and down as if the movement would still the heart in his mouth.

His wife hadn't noticed his shaking because she had fallen asleep. He looked over at her head that had leaned back against the couch cushions, her mouth open slightly open, emitting soft snores. He lunged for his phone and texted her.

*Where are you?*

There was no response. He woke up his wife after the ball had dropped and infomercials had started to play. He chastised her light-heartedly for falling asleep and leaving him without a New Year's kiss. She angered at this comment, taking it the wrong way of course, and accusing him of caring more about a stupid kiss than her own health and tiredness. They yelled and screamed at each other in hushed whispers, their words flying across the bedroom and wounding each other. They stopped eventually; Thompson's stirring putting an end to what would have undoubtedly been an all-night fight.

"What an awesome way to start the year," she muttered as she turned her back towards him.

He didn't care about her verbal assaults. He lay there still in their bed, listening to his wife's breathing while the phone lay on his chest. He would fall asleep with it there, waiting in vain for a text that would never come.

She didn't stay up long enough to get his text. After he left, she slid down the back of her door and sat her bare behind on the cold wooden floor. Tears streamed down her face thinking of him drinking her champagne, the champagne she had bought for them, with her. Would they kiss so passionately at midnight that their champagne glasses would casually roll from their hands and onto their Pottery Barn carpet as they got naked and fucked on that stupid beige couch? She peeled herself off the floor and wiped the mascara smears from her face with the back of her hand. She had no desire to celebrate tonight.

The next morning he woke in a panic - she had not answered him. Where had she gone? What had she done? Was a man at her apartment? Had she dragged someone home with her just to spite him for going home to his wife? The thoughts ravaged his head as he made his way to the bathroom with his morning erection flaring.

His wife was already in front of the sink, getting ready for work. She barely glanced at his heavy cock swaying in front of her as she continued to moisturize her face. He moved aside the glass panel of the shower and let the warm water cascade over his head and splash down over his hardness. He wanted to tug at himself violently to release the frustrations of his wife falling asleep on him and yelling at him, of her almost disdainful look of indifference at his physical need, and the thought of his beautiful little fuck doll in the arms of someone else.

He knew right then that he had to see her but he had promised to stay home with the baby. New Year's Day was always her top sales day at the Pharmaceutical company. Besides, they had given the nanny the day off and he had already taken off from work. He rushed out of the shower and got dressed.

He waited on the couch in front of the TV, bouncing Thompson on his lap in his train pajamas as she gathered her keys and bag. She slipped on her flats underneath the slightly long fabric of her black pantsuit and gave Thompson a wave goodbye.

As soon as the door clicked behind her, he took Thompson to the nursery and started to dress him. He found all his clothes laid out already; she had left them for him in case they had decided to take a walk in the park. He then dressed in his navy suit and blue shirt, the combination that he knew she liked so much against the backdrop of his blue eyes. He balanced his little bundle in his arms as he shoved an extra diaper in his messenger bag and headed out to find a cab.

As he pulled up to the office, he couldn't believe what he was doing. He hugged Thompson closer into the lapel of his coat so that he would not feel the frigid wind gusting through Midtown. He walked past the guard at the front who greeted him with a smile and a wave for Thompson who stared curiously around at the ornate marble and gold lobby.

He headed straight for his office, heedful that others not notice his presence and impede his agenda. His secretary was out but the other secretary's computer was on even though she wasn't at her desk. He sat down and booted up his computer, searching around for something to give Thompson to play with that wasn't a hazard. He moved his stapler and pens to the other side of his desk as he stabilized him on his lap and gave him a mousepad to play with.

She was online. He sent her message before waiting for his other programs to load.

*Come to my office, now.*

His heart was beating out of his chest as he waited for her, only momentarily appeased by watching his son dissect the small square of rubber, flipping it over and poking it with his small fingers. And then she appeared in his door frame, holding onto to one side of it and leaning into his office as though she was just going to pass by.

"Come inside here please and sit down," he said rather gruffly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked surprised, pointing to Thompson. As soon as Thompson saw her, his hands bounced up and down on the desk in delight and he held them out to her outstretched and spread like a baby bird about to take flight.

Instinctively, she went to pick him up but as she neared she stopped herself and withdrew her hands to her sides.

"It's ok," he said as he lifted him from his lap and into her arms.

She smiled as she settled him onto her hip, stroking his soft pale cheek and cooing at him as he giggled for her in return.

He watched as his son nestled his little fingers into the holes of her knit sweater. He peered around the corner from his desk at the secretary vestibule.

"Meet me at my apartment in thirty minutes. This is not a request."

"But you have"-

"He will be asleep by then. Get going," he ordered.

She handed Thompson back to him without a word, his plump finger still entangled in her sweater as she leaned over to give him back. His blue eyes began to water and she feared he would cry. The same blue eyes of his father, her boss, that made her want to do anything he asked.

He willed Thompson not to fall asleep in the taxi ride back to their apartment, hopeful that he would use his entire nap at home. His little head rested on his shoulder twice but he managed to wait until he was put in his crib. As he set the baby monitor at his bedside, he heard her open the apartment door.

He came out to meet her and pressed himself against her in a tight embrace that was unusual for them both.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Where were you yesterday night?" he said sternly.

"Home. Why, what were you doing last night?" she quipped.

He pinched his fingers around her mouth, puckering her full lips playfully. "Don't get fresh with your boss."

He kissed her pouted lips, relieved that she had likely fallen asleep and not seen his text. The thought of her home alone instead of in the arms of someone else appeased him and he felt even hungrier for her. He owned her, she was his completely. Unfortunately, his wife's snippy voice reverberated in his head and he fumed at what had transpired just hours earlier.

"Get undressed and meet me in the shower," he demanded.

Her eyes widened at his request but she tipped her head to the side in agreement and headed for their bathroom. He stripped his suit and left it on a chair and took one more look at the monitor on the nightstand. Thompson was sound asleep.

He found her there waiting in the middle of their shower, shivering naked and holding her arms around her breasts for warmth. He felt strangely guilty that he allowed her to go one second without comfort in his home and immediately turned on the water and wrapped his naked body around her small frame. He let the water pour over their bodies for what seemed like a lifetime. The only reason he parted from her was because he had half his mind on the monitor in the bedroom.

"Today, we are going to do something because my wife pissed me the fuck off last night," he said as he moved aside the wet strands of her hair from her face.

"Ok," she said compliantly, her voice barely audible.

"You will enjoy it too, this is as much for you as it is a fuck you to her," he said. He watched as she nodded for him, water droplets falling from her nose and chin. He kissed her forehead as he reached around her to grab his wife's shampoo.

He showed her the pink bottle. "I'm going to wash your hair with her shampoo. And then I'm going to clean your cunt with her soap. And when you smell entirely of her but better because it's you, I'm going to pamper your ass with her lotion and I'm going to mark your breasts with her perfume."

He set to work on his agenda, massaging her scalp and soaping every inch of her skin with his bare hands. His hands lingered in between her lips, savoring the slippery softness of her skin as he delicately rubbed her clit. She whimpered and pressed her wet breasts against him as she hung her arms around his neck like a harness. He could feel her body getting limper with every stroke of her delectable little core and even the sound of the water pelting the tile could not drown out her moans. He knew she was close to her orgasm so he leaned back against the damp shower wall so she could collapse all her weight against him and let her release wash over her. He closed his eyes as he feverishly finished her off, wanting to drink in every sound and utterance of her pleasure at his hand.

He turned off the water, wrapped her in his wife's oversize white terry towel, and sat her, spent, on the side of the tub as he searched through his wife's belongings. When he found what he was looking for, he led her by the hand to their bed where he peeked at the monitor to make sure Thompson was still asleep. He took care to lay her on her side of the bed. He undid her towel, dropped it to the floor, and massaged his wife's lotion onto her limbs as she lay there naked.

The smell of her berry-scented lotion made her grimace. It was a banal scent, the type women would buy from a chain store at the mall during a three for one sale. She dreaded the perfume she would have to stomach next, which she was sure was some stale scent bought impulsively at an Estee Lauder counter over the holidays.

But she enjoyed the thought of what he was doing - owning her, completely, in the most sacred of places for a married couple. She reveled in her nakedness on her territory as his hands covered her entire body with the slick cream. She could see a staged engagement photo from where she lay, hung in a wooden frame on the opposite wall. It was a bit too big and a little too tacky; her terse cold smile not emanating any warmth, despite the gorgeous man that stood by her side.

His hand slipped again through the gap in her thighs to her pussy, still slick and wet with her cum from earlier. She lifted her head off her pillow just high enough to see his head drop between her legs.

She was already unstable and aroused from her first orgasm. Now he positioned his mouth over her cunt as she laid bare on their marriage bed. He lapped away at her wetness, groaning in delight as she writhed on the sheets that his wife had probably picked out for their registry. She was so wet that she knew she was dripping onto them, his greedy saliva mixing with her cum as it stained the cotton. She already felt herself ready to explode, as was usual when his mouth and that tongue of his was anywhere near her. She looked down as he broke his lips from her lips to penetrate her with one finger as he put another to his mouth asking her to be quiet. He slid in a second finger and fucked her so hard that she could feel his knuckles against her. It was her undoing. She clutched at the sheets and grabbed the pillow behind her, muffling the sounds of her orgasm into the dense feather mound. It was her pillow, she could smell her as she came. She had just come onto the hand of her husband, using her pillow to mute the sound of her pleasure so it wouldn't wake up their child.

He couldn't wait to let her recover, he wanted to be inside her on that bed more than anything else he had ever wanted. He was still pissed at his wife and this was his revenge for years of unhappiness. As he threw open her legs to enter her, he realized that he didn't want to fuck her with reckless abandon on his wife's favorite duvet. He wanted to fuck her the way he used to fuck his wife when they used to have sex. The way a loving husband fucks the wife he adores and cherishes. Except he no longer loved his wife; he loved this mysterious and gorgeous creature that appeared one day in his office like an apparition. She had made him feel things that he had always wanted to feel and some things that he hadn't even known existed. He did things with her that only a woman like her would ever understand and do.

He spied his wife's jewelry box on the bureau near the bed and quickly got up to find something that would fully dislodge the crown of marriage from his head. It was a diamond bracelet that he had bought for her to wear on their wedding day. Short of her ring, it was the worst thing he could have taken from her. He clasped the delicate silver clasp around her wrist and mouthed to her "it's yours." He watched as she stared down at it, twisting it around and around on her wrist as if trying to decipher the hidden value of what this bracelet meant.

"It was her wedding present. She never wears it anymore," he said. "So, fuck her." He saw the pleased look on her face, trying to hide a smile at the significance of the act. He loved how much she relished the disdain he had for his wife and how much he adored her in comparison. The fact that she wanted him so badly to be hers only made him love her that much more.

He didn't want to scare her with an admission of his love so instead he cradled her head as he guided his throbbing cock inside her with his other hand. He kissed her up and down her neck as he thrust into her with a slow, methodical drive. He savored the feeling of her tight walls wrapping around him, clenching her hand above her head as he stared into her beautiful face. He should have known the first time he treated her with such care and affection it would wreck her. She tried to look away as his thick cock continued to slide in and out of her perfect cunt but she couldn't hide her tears from him. They poured out the sides of her eyes as he had always imagined they had. Her face crumpled and her mouth began to quiver. As he bent over to steady her lips with his own, moans escaped from them and her head arched behind her. This small act of kindness had shaken her with so much emotion that she was physically reacting to it. He glanced over at the monitor where Thompson still lay sleeping. He quickly clasped his hand over her mouth to stifle the screams he knew were coming.

"That's right," he whispered, "Cum all over my cock. Coat it completely with you because you own it. It's fucking yours." He used the weight of his body to contain her convulsions and shaking as he continued to whisper to her. "It belongs to you more than it ever belonged to her." He watched as she lay there like a dead person, eyes glazed over, tears still wet on her face, crushed from her third orgasm in less than two hours. He barely had anymore thrusts left in him, he had been ready to explode from the first instant that he touched her cunt with his wife's soap.

As he pulled out so he could pour himself gloriously over that flawless body, he noticed that she had slipped through his legs and grabbed his girth by the base. She laid back down directing the jerking eruption of cum from his swollen head not only on her body, but on the bracelet, on the duvet, and straight onto his wife's fucking pillow.

The sheer mess and dirtiness of his cum showered everywhere around them was a testament to just how fucked up the afternoon had been. Despite his exhaustion, he felt a deep need to clean her not only from his transgression but from any lingering bit that associated her with his wife. She deserved better.

So he scooped her up from the bed and carried her back into the shower and washed her clean with his own soap. He had stripped the diamond bracelet off her in the shower and let it drop to the ground where it drifted to the top of the metal drain. Neither of them seemed to care as cum and sweat from both of them rained all over it.

When they finished, he wrapped her in his towel and let her dress. When she was fully clothed, he unfastened the Rolex from his wrist and placed it firmly on hers.

Keys: newyear erotic 2017

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