Trophy Wife

Brent received a call from an old customer of his. Could he come around and retune the piano? He could. A date and time was arranged and Brent added it to his appointment diary.

On the nominated date Brent fronted up to the Williams' place and rang the bell. To his surprise the door was not opened by Mr Williams. Instead there was an attractive young blonde standing there.

Brent appreciated a nicely turned female form as much as the next man and he had to admit that this was one very nice female form. She was lightly clad in a loose-necked blouse and a micro-mini skirt. From the way the blouse clung to her breasts Brent was prepared to swear that she was braless.

"Good morning," he said. "I'm Brent Masters. I've an appointment to tune the piano."

"Oh, yes," gushed the blonde. "Popsy said he was having someone come to do that. He wanted to be here to see you himself but had to go out. I'm Mrs Williams, but you can call me Carly."

Carly turned and led the way into the house, followed by a slightly bemused Brent. He couldn't help but notice the way her skirt clung lovingly to her bottom, and if she had panties they sure weren't leaving any visible lines on the material.

Now that he thought about it he'd heard that Mr Williams had got married again. Seeing Mr Williams was in his fifties and Carly wouldn't be pushing twenty very hard, Brent suspected that she was a trophy wife. With a face and figure like that she was probably an accomplished gold-digger as well.

Settling at the piano, Brent ran a hand across the keys, listening to the sounds. Not bad, he thought. A few rough spots, but generally pretty good.

Brent has assumed that Carly would leave him to get on with his work. He was to be disappointed. He was reaching for some tuning forks when she spoke to him.

"How do you know if a note's not right?"

Turning to answer, Brent found Carly leaning forward over the end of the piano. His idle thoughts about her lack of a bra were answered on the spot. The loose neck of the blouse was gaping, Carly's braless ornaments on full display. Brent took a deep breath, and kept his eyes on Carly's face. She was a customer, after all.

"Um, I compare the sound each note makes against my tuning forks if I'm not sure. Generally I can tell just by hitting the key. I have a very keen ear, but I do need silence while I'm testing."

"Sure. You go right ahead. I just like to watch an expert at his work," Carly said.

It wasn't what she said, Brent decided, but the way she said it. And you can't make anything of that or you'll wind up looking like a fool. He took a deep breath and started work.

It was hell. Every time he wanted silence, Carly would be filling it with questions. She was constantly moving around.

Bending down to look at his tools, while her blouse gaped and showed her assets. Leaning over the end of the piano, while her blouse gaped open and revealed her breasts. Standing on her toes and trying to look in the back of the piano, and still somehow managing to make her blouse gape and expose her womanliness.

The first time Brent was willing to concede could have been accidental. So could the second and even the third. But there was no way the constant barrage of breasts on display could be anything but deliberate. Carly was deliberately teasing him. A glimpse of her face in a mirror while she was crossing behind him showed open mockery on her face.

She was having fun, exciting herself by flashing her boobs at the tradesman, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

Her constant chatter and general distraction had almost doubled the length of the visit by the time Brent had finished.

Writing out his invoice, Brent was slightly reluctant to charge Mr Williams for the full time, as he should have been able to finish in half that. Considering Carly's behaviour, Brent decided it was fair enough. He was tempted to add a surcharge for hazardous duty.

Taking the invoice from him, Carly glanced at it.

"Um, if you care to wait a moment I'll get you a cheque," she said and darted out of the room, returning a minute later, cheque book in hand.

She moved to the middle of the room and bent over the coffee table to right out the cheque. It was, Brent noted, a very low coffee table. Most people who wanted to use it to write on would either sit or crouch, not just bend over.

They especially wouldn't turn their back on the man in the room and bend over so far, while wearing a micro-mini skirt. A flirty skirt at that. Of course, if they wanted to show you that they were wearing thong panties that just barely covered their pussy and left their pretty little tush on display, they just might do that.

If Carly wanted to play games, then he would play games. His work was finished, after all. He casually moved closer to Carly and reached down. His finger slid under her thong, just where it thinned out after covering her mound. He pulled sharply upwards, watching the mound covering promptly disappear between her lips.

Carly squealed and jerked erect, batting at his hand.

"Are you insane?" she demanded. "What do you think you're doing?"

Watching Carly trying to adjust her thong, Brent smiled.

"I wouldn't bother doing that, if I were you. You might as well just take them off."

Carly started at that. Had she gone too far she wondered? She had, she realised as she saw that Brent was undoing his fly and taking out his erection.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked again, staring at Brent, eyes flicking down to his erection and back up to his face. "Put that away at once."

"I intend to," said Brent. "Just where you want it. And don't say you don't. I could feel how wet you are when I hooked hold of your panties. Now take them off."

Carly looked at Brent a trifle nervously. He couldn't be serious, could he? He was just a tradesman. She was a rich man's wife. She couldn't afford to fool around with him.

Brent slipped a hand up under Carly's blouse and took hold of a breast.

"You've been showing me these for the last two hours," he stated. "Now it's time to deliver. Panties off, and I won't ask again."

Carly bit her lip, but could feel excitement coursing through her. Brent was serious. He was going to make her take of her panties and then he was going to use her. As though she was just anyone. Reaching up her skirt she tugged at her thong, letting it drop to the floor.

Brent nodded with satisfaction. Taking Carly's blouse he lifted it up, Carly automatically raising her arms to let it go.

Brent pulled Carly against him so she could feel the length of his erection pressing against her. Pushing her skirt up so it was bunched around her waist, he took hold of her bottom. Slowly he lifted her, letting her feel the drag of his erection against her. Soon she was high enough so that it slipped between her thighs, pressing against her slit.

Hands tight around Carly's cheeks, Brent pulled Carly's thighs further apart. Then he lowered her, letting her feel the head of his cock pressing against her slit, poshing past her slit.

Carly felt excitement exploding through her. He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. Without so much as a by your leave, he was taking her as though she was a common tart he'd paid for. She could feel him there, the head of his cock just inside her, getting ready to come deeper.

Seeing the expectation plain on Carly's face and listening to her excited breathing, Brent smiled grimly. Let's see how she likes this.

He pushed Carly downward onto his erection while at the same time thrusting forcefully upwards. Swiftly and neatly he took Carly, sinking in full length with that single thrust.

Carly squealed as she felt Brent savagely invade her. Not from shock but from excitement. She was being taken with no regard to her feelings and it felt wonderful.

Brent sank down to his knees and tilted Carly back until she was lying on the carpet. Leaning over her he pressed her down, pinning her with his weight. Then he set to work to show her what a man's cock was for and why she shouldn't tease them.

Pulling back he drove forcefully into her again. Carly was squealing and writhing under him as he pounded her relentlessly, her hips thrusting eagerly upwards to try and assuage his driving need.

Listening to Carly squeal as he continued to pound into her, Brent decided he'd been right about one thing. The damn woman never shut up, although her squeals now were preferable to her incessant inane questions.

Brent hammered Carly ruthlessly, enjoying her response and her pleading cries. He wasn't sure if she was begging him to stop or continue, although he suspected it was the latter. The way she was humping her ass back up at him when he drove down strongly suggested that she was begging for more.

Carly didn't know what she was pleading for either. All she knew was that Brent was taking her, using her, giving no consideration to the way she reacted but driving in at his own pleasure. And driving her wild while doing so.

She could hear herself squealing and pleading, feel herself writhing under his dominance, and knew that if had to go on.

Taking Carly hard, Brent could feel his climax approaching. Idly he wondered if Carly would reach hers as he started to move even faster, driving down into her, letting her know he was the master.

Carly could sense the increased pressure and speed. She knew what it meant and threw herself even harder into meeting Brent. She would die if he climaxed without her, leaving her poised with nowhere to go. She had to match him, and she flung her body hard into the task of making it so.

Carly sobbed with relief as she felt her own climax coming onto her, then screamed as she felt Brent let loose within her. Shattered, she clung to him while her body throbbed wildly, her nerves letting go and flinging her over the edge.

Finally regaining control of herself, Carly sat up. Brent was still there, standing, waiting. She looked at him.

"You haven't signed it," he stated.

Carly felt blank and looked where he had gestured. Her cheque book was sitting there. She hadn't finished writing the cheque when things went awry. Reaching over she picked up the pen and signed.

Brent took the cheque, nodded to her and left.

As Brent was walking towards his car, Mr Williams drove up. Pulling over he hopped out of his car and walked across to greet Brent, shaking hands.

"Sorry I wasn't here to greet you," he said. "Work commitments. I assume Carly pointed you in the direction of the piano."

"You assume right," said Brent. "Actually, she went with me and stayed while I was tuning it. She had a few questions regarding the work."

Brent could see Mr Williams running this through his mind and was surprised to see the man give him the once over and grow slightly pale.

"Ah, Brent," said Mr Williams, "please tell me you had the gumption to bend Carly over and fuck her brains out. You did do that, didn't you?"

Seeing the agreement on Brent's face Mr Williams gave a sigh of relief.

"Thank god for that," he muttered. "It would probably have killed me if you'd gone and left her in an excited state. I'd have had to try to satisfy her, and I can't do that as often as I used to. Well, have a good day."