The Christmas Gift 2: MLK day
The situation with Elizabeth was always on my mind over the next week, which was the week between Christmas and New Year’s. How could it not be? I didn’t know what to do, and I was incredibly busy at work with closing out year end stuff. As a result, I didn’t do anything about the situation, except think about in any free mental time that I had.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth was in rare form herself. She was getting our house ready for our annual New Year’s Eve party. It had become quite the event in town over the last few years. This year, she seemed to be pushing the party to be even more formal and upscale. She was very selective about the guest list. She only wanted “the best” people there. Elizabeth had always been a bit snotty, but I have to admit, she was a bit more elitist about this party than usual. I was relieved when the night finally came, just so we could move past it.
She had “uprgraded” this year’s party to black tie. I was struggling with my stupid bow tie when she came out of our master bathroom. She looked absolutely stunning in her carefully selected party attire. It had been specifically chosen to accent the very expensive new designer furniture that she had selected as her Christmas gift. Her beautiful blonde hair had been done to perfection. She was absolute perfection, and I told her so.
“Thank you dear.” She said, automatically. I went to put my arms around her, but my advances were rebuked. “Not now, John! Our guests will be arriving soon. Can you focus on entertaining please? There will be clients, key employees, and important community members here.” She said coldly before leaving the room and going downstairs.
While Elizabeth was a bit cold to me, she was all smiles with the catering team she hired for the party. They adored her, thought she walked on water. She liked their attention to detail, and had recommended them to all of her party throwing friends. She had doubled their business.
She was the perfect hostess, though I could still see some of the guests were a bit cool to her. I was used to that. Women instantly dislike her for her perfect blonde looks. Men are obviously a little easier on her, but you can see them try not to act too enamored around their own wives. However, our community is very connected, and it is quite the social hierarchy. Elizabeth currently sits atop that social hierarchy. She is head of the Charter school committee, the Women’s league, and a few other sought after social roles. I noticed that just about all 75 or so people at that party kept an eye on where Elizabeth was, and whom she was talking too.
It wasn’t long before I was praying for the last guest to leave. When we finally closed the door on them, I approached Elizabeth from behind as she was checking her phone to see what people may have posted on Facebook about the party. I let my hands roam around her dress. The way everyone was watching her tonight had got me going, along with the fact that she was absolutely stunning of course.
Pressing myself up against her from behind, I softly kissed the back of her neck and told her she looked beautiful.
“I know John, but I am positively exhausted. Please darling, give me some space” she said, rebuking me for the second time that evening. Frustrated, I stormed off and went to bed. I was a bit drunk, and I was horny, angry, and weak. I started thinking about how all those people there looked at her like some untouchable Queen of Westport Connecticut. She was so high and mighty. If they had only seen the things that I had seen. Even though I knew I shouldn’t, I replayed the video of Elizabeth and Mr. Hypno. Seeing her masturbate herself as she fur fucked and fellatio’d that guy was just too much. I shot my load before I got to the point where he shot his all over her face.
Afterwards, I felt so guilty that I cried. Cried myself to sleep.
A few days later, I was chatting with my IT guy about our party. He kept going on and on about my neighbor and how he must wear a toupe. It became quite the debate. I took out my phone to scroll through it, looking for a picture Elizabeth may have taken with this particular man in it that may be on our shared “camera roll”. As I flipped through them, I saw a portrait of Elizabeth. It was clearly taken in our living room, and the fact that it was light outside the windows meant it was taken before the party. When I was in the shower maybe?
I found it odd. It wasn’t an overtly sexy picture, but there was something about the way her black satin gloved hand was slightly touching her neck that seemed sort of subtly erotic. I wondered why she had taken this. She must have really liked the way her dress worked with the new decorating?
About a week later, there was the Westport Women’s League January Luncheon. I was thankful that I didn’t have to attend. I stayed home and watched football and kept an eye on the kids. In retrospect, she seemed a little off when she came home. A few minutes after she got home, the kids announced they were starting to get hungry. We had an early lunch, however, I figured Elizabeth wouldn’t be eating with us, as she was at a late luncheon. Looking to coordinate dinner, I called out to her. She didn’t answer, so I went looking. I eventually went into our bedroom. When I opened the door, I saw Elizabeth laying seductively on a sitting couch we had in our bedroom. Her iphone was set up in front of her. I heard the camera clicking sound, and it was clear she was running some app that was automatically taking a bunch of pictures of her. She was modeling somewhat seductively, which was an odd juxtaposition to her very tailored, professional attire.
She didn’t notice me there, and I soon stayed still to ensure I wasn’t noticed. God she looked sexy posing like that, despite the conservative outfit. My dick got hard, even though my gut was telling me this was not right. She must have decided she had what she needed, so she stopped posing and reached for the iphone to stop the app. I snuck downstairs quietly, shocked over what I had just witnessed.
I caught my breath for a moment as my head was swimming as I stood in the hallway off the living room. “Are you ready?” I heard her say from behind me, startling me. I spun around to see her in her fur coat, clearly ready to go. “Are we going to get something to eat or not?” she said, as if I was the hold up. I hadn’t thought she had even heard the question during her modeling shoot, but apparently she had.
I wanted so desperately to ask her why she was just taking those pictures of herself, but the kids came running with their jackets. I figured it was probably for the best, as she may not even have realized what she did. It was more than a hunch that Mr. Hypno was somehow connected to this. My guess was that she was carrying out a post hypnotic suggestion to take photos of herself and send them to him.
I was clearly distracted during dinner. Looking at her in the conservative black dress and pearls, knowing that she had taken sexy pictures of herself in it was driving me crazy. I started to wonder if the pictures the app was taking would go into photo roll on the iphone. If so, we would both have them there. I excused myself to the restroom during dinner. Sure enough, there were 20+ pictures of her on our shared photo roll. It was so erotic, even though it was so wrong. I masturbated in the stall of the restaurant. As usual, my arousal immediately turned to shame.
I was obviously gone for a bit longer than she would expect. She asked me if I felt alright, and if I was ill. She looked truly concerned. She was concerned for my welfare because she was my wife and she loved me. She loved me in a stand offish sort of way usually, but it was still love. And I loved her. How could I let some creepy stranger play with her mind like this? How could I let him turn her from a leader of society to some sort of sex puppet? Where would it end? Would she end up sending more racy pictures of herself? The pictures from this week were certainly more provocative than the self portrait taken on New Year’s Eve. What would next week bring? What sort of sexy photos would she take? If she took a sexier photo, I could use it to really prove to her that she was being manipulated by this guy. I could also keep it. I knew she would never take sexy photos for me. All the white wine in the world couldn’t get her to do that. Would she have a pouty expression? What would she wear? I felt my dick become hard again as my thoughts ran away on me. I decided to wait to tell her about what was going on.
Depending on the viewpoint, I was either rewarded or punished the next week. I was at work when I decided to check the shared photos on my phone. It was now an hourly habit for me. Low and behold, I was suddenly looking at incredibly sexual pictures of Elizabeth in what looked to be our bedroom. She was posing more erotically than ever before. She had on her black one piece bathing suit, and had stockings on. A black fox stole was the only accessory. There were probably ten or fifteen pictures. God, she was the hottest thing I had ever seen. My dick throbbed. I was so angry at that Mr. Hypno bastard for using her like this, but I also knew I would cherish these photos of her forever. I closed the door to my office, jerked off quickly, then saved the photos to my hard drive for safe keeping. It infuriated me to no end knowing that Mr. Hypno was enjoying the same photos as me.
I did my usual struggle on the drive home that night. Should I tell her, not tell her, etc. At a stop light, I flipped through the images again on my phone. God damn she was beautiful and sexy. Sexy in these pictures at least. She wasn’t really like that with me though. With me, sex was a wifely obligation that she dutifully fulfilled by just laying there. She would never pose in a sexy way or act sexy. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t resist letting these photos get taken. It was a side of her I would never get to see again. I became angry, not necessarily at Mr. Hypno, but at Elizabeth. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t she do this for me sometime?
I used my anger and hurt to rationalize away my moral duty to stop this. I decided to wait for more pictures. I even hoped they would come sooner rather than later. However, I knew she would have a hard time finding privacy to take shots this weekend. It was MLK day weekend, and we were scheduled to go skiing as a family. I found out that plan would be short lived though as I walked into the house that Friday night.
“The ski trip is off John, I hope you know that!” Elizabeth blasted as soon as I walked in the door. To the outside observer, it would seem she was blaming me for this fact, but in truth this was the way Elizabeth responded to me anytime she was stressed about anything. As always, I remained calm and asked what she meant.
“Maggie and that scum sucking pig Donnie have broken up. She claims he is a racist now. He seems to be fed up with her Democratic liberal nonsense. I can’t say I blame him for that. Oh God John, only she could make me take the side of a lowlife like him. Oh god, she drives me positively insane! We can’t find her, which means she is probably back to drug use. My father is positively beside himself!” she fumed. My wife used the term “positively” more than anyone I had ever met. Anyway, it was clear she was upset, and as always it was clear where her own political views lie.
The rest of the night and all of Saturday was filled with phone calls and dealing with Norman, looking for Maggie, etc. It was exhausting. Around 6:00, I went out to pick up some Chinese food. I could have had it delivered, but I really wanted to just have a few minutes by myself to catch my breath. I actually got it from the “further” Chinese place to maximize my time out. This selfish little maneuver seemed harmless, until I got home.
When I pulled into the garage, Elizabeth’s Mercedes was gone. She hadn’t mentioned going anywhere, but I figured maybe she got a lead on where Maggie was? I went inside and the kids were still home, watching TV. No sign of Elizabeth. I knew something wasn’t right. Our kids were not yet at the age where they were to be left alone at home.
I ran to our bedroom. I could tell from the humidity in the bathroom that the shower had been on recently. There was make up and a hair dryer out. I also smelled perfume. My heart suddenly plummeted. Oh god, Donnie broke up with Maggie! Maybe Mr. Hypno was only keeping Elizabeth at arms length for Donnie’s sake.
In a panic, I took out my phone and texted Maggie. I basically told her that if she had any love for me or her sister at all, she would call me that instant. I stressed that this wasn’t about her or her bender, but that Elizabeth was in trouble. I didn’t breath for about five minutes until the phone rang.
“Maggie. Where does Donnie’s friend Mr. Hypno live? Where can I find him?”
“Johnny, I don’t know where he lives. Donnie and I broke up you know. It all started with this argument about why he wouldn’t close the club on Martin Luther King Day. I told him that he was minimizing the struggle that….” She started babbling.
“Maggie, shut the fuck up! Where can I find his friend Mr. Hypno?” I screamed
“I- I, ummm, he travels a lot, so he doesn’t like ‘live’ anywhere. When he is in Bridgeport he stays at Donnie’s club. There is an apartment downstairs. I’m so sorry that I used again Johnny, I know you must hate me. It’s just that—” she started before I hung up the phone.
I called one of the high school girls down the street and had them come over and watch the kids. I got in my car and raced to Bridgeport.
I frantically looked around the perimeter of the Donnie’s Laugh Emporium, looking for a door to the basement apartment. Before I found the entrance, I found a window. Clearing some bushes, I looked inside. Sure enough, I saw Elizabeth, still in her fur coat, standing with whom I presumed was Mr. Hypno pressed up against her from behind. I could see them clearly. I pushed a little on the top of the window and it opened a bit. I could hear inside now, and I knew they would be able to hear me if I yelled. I was about to scream at Mr. Hypno when I thought better of it. What if I yelled at him and he took off with Elizabeth?
“So deep under my power, so deep under my control, and it feels so good,” he exclaimed as his hands roamed over her body. He pressed a finger into her mouth. The other hand opened the fur coat a bit and I realized that she was naked underneath. How had I not noticed that before? It was only a ¾ length jacket. Had she left the house like that? My dick started to get hard. Then the creep cupped and lifted each of her breasts, pausing to trace the outline of her nipples. His fingertips then traced a line between her breasts down over her flat belly. He massaged her closely trimmed muff, and then slide a finger between her labia. She gasped as he gently rubbed her clitoris.
I was paralyzed as I heard him speak again. “You’ve been dreaming of pleasuring me, haven’t you my sweet?”
She gulped and then nodded her head slightly.
“Good girl,” he replied. With his right hand he unzipped his pants, and with his left he pulled her head toward his lap. She took it from there, snaking her hand into his pants and fishing out his rapidly swelling cock. She stroked him several times with her fur sleeves and delicate soft hands, her diamond engagement ring and wedding band rubbing up and down his shaft along with the luxorious fur coat that I had purchased for her.
As she jerked his prick, she helped him out of his pants while he shucked off his jacket. Then she took him in her mouth. At first, just the head, alternating between sucking him and swirling her tongue around the base of his glans. Then as she wet the shaft with her saliva, she began to take him deeper. She bobbed up and down, up and down, making loud slurping sounds as she repeatedly devoured his dick rubbing his thighs, stomach and pelvis with the fur of her coat as she did so.
As she continued to stroke his shaft, she also helped him out of the rest of his clothes. She opened his shirt, one button at a time, pausing to kiss and lick his newly exposed chest, wetly sucking on his nipples. He let out a deep, satisfied rumble of laughter as she took his cock again into her mouth, now massaging his balls fur coat as she blew him. He began thrusting his hips upward, fucking her face. He seemed ready to burst, but then suddenly he pushed her away.
She looked at him, surprised, and maybe a little hurt, her face now twisted into a pouty frown. Oh my god, she wanted him to cum in her mouth so badly! The queen of Westport Connecticut high society was practically begging for this low class scum bag hypnotist to cum all over her face. It was shocking and grotesque. I just wished it wasn’t so damned erotic to watch.
He laughed. “Don’t worry baby, I just don’t want to bust my nut quite yet.”
She smiled and relaxed as Mr. Hypno firmly pressed her onto the sofa. She was now on her back, wedged into the rear corner of the couch. He lifted one leg onto the back of the sofa and pushed her other foot onto the floor. He then positioned himself kneeling between her widely-spread legs. She was obviously excited, almost squirming in anticipation, and when he pressed his thumb into her pussy, she let out a heartbreaking mewl.
He edged forward, and began to rub his cock head up and down her very wet, very swollen slit. Elizabeth let out a sultry moan that I had never heard before.
I couldn’t help but stroke my own cock through my jeans as I shamefully spied on this scene.
My hypnotized wife was bucking her hips up and down now, trying to capture his shaft, but everytime she thrust upward he pulled back, making her groan in frustration. “Please, please,” she whimpered.
Mr. Hypno chuckled again before giving her what she was craving, a hard thrust that left him more than half-buried inside her. She let out an excited yelp, and immediately her eyes rolled back into her head, followed by a raspy shudder that left her shaking.
I shook and shuddered myself as I came in my jeans.
“Who owns you Elizabeth?” He asked, as he began slowly sliding his cock in and out of her wet snatch.
She opened her eyes and gave him a beaming smile. “You do,” she mouthed.
My heart sank. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at me the way she looked at him during sex. I knew that she was under his hypnotic influence, but it still hurt. The hurt turned to anger as my mind cleared. I saw Mr. Hypno cumming in my wife and I flew into a rage. I got up from the window and ran around the corner to the stairs that led to the door.
I was a downward staircase with a railing. I used gravity and anger to kick the door down. Mr. Hypno looked up in shock. He was naked and had just dismounted from my wife as I came in like a bat out of hell, angrier than I had ever been. My fist wound up as I approached him. With all my might behind it, with all my love for my wife behind it, I let my punch fly.
And it was blocked. My jaw was soon introduced to Mr. Hypno’s fist as he straight out cold clocked me. I hit the floor like a ton of bricks before losing consciousness.
I sure hadn’t seen that coming.