of wickedness

The conversation moves to politics. You don’t have much to add. You focus, instead, at the couple in the corner of the room. You focus on how animated she is in conversation. Her beautiful skin, her tanned arms, boobs the size of peaches. She has the body of a greek goddess, and she knows it. No wonder his hand is always resting on her waist. He says something witty. She laughs loudly. He blushes. She leans on him and kisses him on his cheek. He blushes some more.

You’re wondering if she’s any good in bed.

Hey you lovebirds, someone in their group calls out to you and your husband. Come and join us here. Let me introduce you to some of my other friends.

A short while later, you’re sitting across the table from him, flashing an evil smile.

A drop of sweat falls from his balding head as he sees your skirt ride up just a little as you cross your legs. Slowly. Deliberately.

She looks hurt. Your job here is done.

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Published by

anawnimiss

Blogger. Crazy bitch. Stalkee. Weirdo magnet. Wannabe housewife. Corporate Slave. Find me at anawnimiss.wordpress.com!

7 thoughts on “of wickedness”

  1. Well, what goes around, comes around. At the cost of admitting to being a selectively lecherous man, I will say that you are constantly on both sides of the table. You get hurt and give hurt. But what is coquetry without a little mirth!

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