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When fantasies coincide. Pt. 07
The fourth year.
The new year began much as the old one ended, with me driving Jan to Stow for her to spend weekends with Andrew. Of course, she could have driven herself, but there was something about the perhaps humiliating aspect of me acting as chauffeur, delivering my wife into the arms of her lover for the weekend, that had thrilled me from the beginning.
With our anniversary approaching, Jan booked a few days off work, assuming I would be booking a hotel somewhere as usual. Instead, I told Jan that with Valentine's Day falling on Thursday this year, ‘why don't I take you to Andrews on Thursday evening so you can spend a long weekend with him? Spend the night of our wedding anniversary in his bed instead of mine, in much the same way as last years had been spent in George's hotel bed.'
My plan met with approval all around, with Andrew saying it would add extra spice to things knowing he was fucking my wife on our wedding anniversary.
So that's what we did.
In fact, it was only a few weeks later that my wife's affair with Andrew came to an abrupt end when he linked up with a former girlfriend with a view to marriage.
The March Conference. Mertens.
Arriving at the conference venue, Jan searched in vain for Peter. He wasn't among the attendees this year. Jan's disappointment was short-lived, however, when she found herself being ‘chatted up' by a really good-looking Belgian guy called Mertens. The slim, dark-haired Mertens was twenty-eight and Jan, now thirty-five, was pleased she could still attract younger guys.
They were staying at different hotels, but that was no more than a minor inconvenience. Mertens collected Jan from her hotel in the evening, and they walked to a pub a few streets away for a drink. Sitting on high stools at the bar, they chatted about this and that for a while before the self-confident Mertens asked whose hotel room they were going to when leaving the pub.
"Whoever is the nearest, I would think, wouldn't you?" She smiled at the audacious young guy, whose hand was already stroking her thigh in plain view of other customers.
Mertens was working the hem of Jan's skirt higher and higher, causing her to ask if he was aiming to display her underwear to the rest of the customers in the pub.
"Why not? You are an attractive girl, and lots of guys are looking. Let's give them a show."
Jan didn't reply, but with the skirt hem now above her stocking tops, she found the nine or ten pairs of eyes focused on her legs excited her.
With plenty of bare flesh above her stocking tops now visible, Jan told the audacious Mertens he should stop, or ‘we'll get thrown out the pub.'
Uncrossing and parting her legs as she spoke though, Jan's action belied her words, and he knew it.
"Pity you're wearing underwear. The guys would get a better view if you weren't," Mertens said, his Belgian accent suddenly stronger than it had been earlier.
His fingers were stroking the narrow strip of material between Jan's thighs now, and quickly finishing her drink, she slipped from the bar stool telling Mertens, "Let's go."
The action caused my wife's skirt to ride even higher, and she was
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