She's everything my wife isn't.

Flirtatious.

Unpredictable.

Domineering.

Wearing nothing but knee-high black PVC boots that shine in the hotel lamplight, our eyes lock across the now crumpled bed sheets, her pretty celestial nose and full cheekbones framed by waves of scarlet hair that dust her heaving chest.

We sit opposite one another on the bed and I swallow as she swishes the tresses. Her tits sway with the tiniest bounce, so firm and perky I want to bite her nipples and hear her scream again. Like she did when those swirling hips were glued to my mouth with her syrupy come minutes earlier, crushing me to the mattress.

Being owned was such a rush. Arms pinned to the bed with her knees, she ground against my tongue, lips and teeth to bring herself to a thundering orgasm, wisps of pubic hair tickling my chin as my stubble scuffed her slick folds.

She was unrelenting and I loved every second of being used, starved of oxygen as her needy clit mashed against my nose in tight circles. She took what she desired, little thought for anything but her own pleasure, shrieks echoing off walls bearing nondescript watercolours from sell-out contemporary artists. I'd basked in her wanton display, my steel unattended and aching behind her spiralling hips.

I can still smell her on me. Still electrified, raging hard. My shirt's unbuttoned, necktie binding my wrists behind my back, legs spread, the insteps of her boots encircling my shiny cock protruding from unzipped trousers. A chill runs through me, knowing she can do anything – anything at all – and I'll take it.

Leaning back on her elbows, leather soles grip my cockhead and roll it around, squeezing to release a bubble of pre-cum that she watches ooze from the tip to dribble down the veined shaft. She approves, I can tell. Her mouth opens, eyes alive, and the boots slither to clamp my straining erection between her ankles.

She slips the man-made material up and down in smooth, languid strokes that she knows tease… just not enough to take me over the edge. No, she wants me out of my mind. Begging for release as I try to steal touches that she denies.

I fucking love it.

I watch one fingertip trail to loop a nipple and flick the cerise cap before it continues up, coming to rest between her pretty lips. She sucks, then traces the wet pad all the way down to between her legs, halting above her proud clit.

"Do you want more of this?"

I nod, fast and eager.

"Wanna feel your cock pounding into my tight pussy as you squeeze my little tits?"

Swelling between her PVC cocoon, I nod again.

Her twisted smile is laced with greed. "Want this red hair to caress your hardness? Tease you before my tongue follows? Fluttering. Lowering until your fat tip enters my warm, wet mouth." She mirrors the narrative with her boots again, squeezing my cockhead. "I wanna hear your breath catch. Gonna take everything. Gag as I let you pick up speed and fuck my tight throat."

I gasp at the imagery, the boots drawing up and down my solid length. Pressure surges inside me and she backs off a fraction. Something must have given me away. A groan escapes. "Please."

She shakes her head. "Maybe you'd like something more? Something new. Something dirtier." Her eyes flash. "My arse, perhaps?"

I groan again as she glides the soles up to clamp my tip, drawing her feet down over the flared head, squeezing and releasing in a steady rhythm.

"God, it's so tight in my arse," she breathes. "Can you picture that? The pressure popping the ring of muscle. We'd need lube."

She leans forward with the bottle and drizzles more onto my staff, the clear fluid forming rivulets that the glossy boots swiftly disperse before she snaps the cap shut. "Right there," she drawls, holding my rigidness prisoner. "Isn't that the best sensation ever? Trapped inside my darkest, naughtiest place?"

Slithering her feet down my shaft, I want to burst as her teasing tone continues. "Ease inside me. Hear me… ohhhh… moan as you fill me." She lowers her voice to a throaty whisper. "As you start to fuck my bum."

My hips jerk when her feet reach the base and begin to draw back up. "Bet your wife doesn't let you fuck her like that. Bet she's a proper little housewife. Vanilla."

I smile yet say nothing. Draw breath.

"That's why you like me isn't it? Because I'm Neapolitan. Every one of your wildest dreams. Each sordid fantasy rolled into a tight little slutty package." She grits her teeth as her ministrations on my cock increase. "I'll be your dirty little bitch. Your anal cumslut. You can mistreat me. Tie me up. Spank me. Bite me. Leave a fucking mark."

My imagination spikes. Gaze drifts between her thighs as I surge and groan. The desire in her voice drips like the glistening wetness drooling from her soaked entrance. "Yes. You want to come in my arse don't you? Hear me scream when you grab my hair and jerk it back. Circle my throat. Take me like a… filthy… fucking… slut."

She picks up speed with her boots. Pre-come trickles with every full stroke and I inhale deeply as the end nears. My breathing tightens. Hips spasm. Heat burns within and rushes upward, spewing thick jets of spunk that arc to stripe the pristine PVC like white oil. I gasp and groan, letting her milk me completely, heart hammering, then gradually slowing as she lets me drift and soften between her slippery ankles.

Our eyes find one another and we share a smile. I mouth, "Thank you."

She reaches up to roll off the scarlet wig, tossing it aside and shaking out her natural, dark mane. "Was I okay?"

I nod. "Amazing."

My wife beams. "Just wait 'till it's my turn to choose from the fantasy jar."