The Art Of Revenge
Josh’s Pov
Finally, we were free to go on our honeymoon; unlike other couples, we did not go on the same day as our wedding. I had a lot of loose ends to tie up in my firm and a lot of stuff to straighten out.
Jessica was very pi**ed at me but I was going to make it up to her. Mom was moved into a lovely private home for dementia patients. I hired the best team of nurses and doctors in the world to care for her. I gave them precise instructions to keep me informed if anything changed or if there were any issues.
My father and his girlfriends vanished on the day of the wedding. He couldn’t even wait for the wedding to end before congratulating us and leaving.
But I’d become accustomed to his irresponsibility and was the one who was usually cleaning up after him. In celebration of Gentex’s takeover, he claimed he needed to party his life away.
He was somehow taking full credit for it, even though it was his plan and I was only carrying it out. But thanks to him, my future generation was set up for a good life. Maybe I didn’t have a right to be upset with him.
He’d spent years plotting and grooming me in order to nail it. Perhaps he needed a break and some quality time with some sl**ts. He was getting old and tired, soon he was going to go back to caring for his wife at the end of the day.
I sighed as I finished packing, Jessica strolled in, beaming. “Please, babe, hurry up,” she urged as she kissed my cheeks. She was ecstatic to be going to Canada; she had always loved the snow and wanted us to spend our time there at an upscale ski resort.
Skiing or snow was not my thing; I enjoyed the water and would have preferred Hawaii, but I had to compromise for my wife; a happy wife equals a happy husband.
“Are you done packing Mrs. Nelson?” I asked as I drew her closer to me.
“Yes, Mr. Nelson, you are the one packing like a little girl,” she said in my ear. I grabbed one of my t-shirts and started paddling her bottom as she raced around.
“You’re the little girl, around here” I continued to yell.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Nelson,” she began, the words coming out of my mouth being so comforting. As she let out a high-pitched screech that pierced my ears, I seized her and pinned her to the bed. I traced kisses all over her neck. “Stop, stop, we’re running out of time, Josh,” she said.
“Just one round, Mrs. Nelson,” I implored.
“Josh, we can do that on the jet,” she replied with a grin on her face. “Have you ever tried it at a high altitude?” she inquired, her voice sultry. I came to a halt and gazed down at her; she was dead serious.
I’d never had an org**sm at such a high altitude before. I leaped to my feet and resumed my packing, causing her to burst out laughing. I was done in minutes and immediately sweating from the possibility of having sex in the air.
I was so excited, we really needed the break too. I summoned the maid, who carried our baggage to the car while we held hands. We couldn’t take our hands off of each other or have enough of ourselves.
We were passionately kissing each other as soon as we got inside the car. After getting impatient of waiting for a green light, the driver had no choice but to begin driving. It wasn’t as if he had no idea where we were headed.
We kissed and caressed each other all the way to the airport, where my private jet was waiting and all fueled up. To get us off of each other, the driver had to tap the window four times.
We couldn’t stop staring at each other or keeping our hands to ourselves. It was clear that we were meant to be together. Her wildness always met my arrogance on the halfway mark. A match made in heaven.
The driver had already put our baggage on board as we headed to the jet. My boy was already hard, Jessica had to place herself in front of me to cover my b*ner. It was a long humiliating mini-walk to the jet, the short distance between the car and the Jet felt like a hundred-meter sprint.
The two pilots gave us strange looks, but we ignored them as I chased behind Jessica, who had decided to embarrass me by sprinting inside the plane and displaying my hardened junk. She was going to put in a lot of effort. I was thinking to myself as I chased her down like a duck.
I was very much aware that she was aching and drenched, which explained why she was fleeing; she couldn’t hold on any longer, and I was going to punish her.
I quickly boarded and followed her to the back of the plane, where no one could hear us. She was thinking the same thoughts that I was. Even though it had only been minutes since I last touched her, I was already yearning for her.
I caught up with her and threw her on the couch, but she pushed me away; she enjoyed playing hard to get. I felt like I couldn’t get near her fast enough, then I grabbed her and she strained against my body.
As I drove her up against the back of the jet, my shirt was already drenched from my sweat. She shoved her petite body against my large chest, the muscles solid beneath my shirt as I pressed hard against her.
The warmth of her fingertips on my exposed skin sent another burst of energy directly to my already hardened boy, making me ache with a tiny moan.
As I began stripping her bare, I had to feel her warm skin beneath my fingertips, stride by stride. We stumbled when the jet moved, but that didn’t bother us or cause us to stop because the movement only added to the thrill.
We both lived for the danger and excitement. For a long time, I’d yearned for such an experience. I drew her t-shirt up just enough for my hands to get underneath it, tugging her breasts.
I encircled her waist with my hands, her skin soft and silky to the touch, as I searched for the curvature of her waist and the firmness of her breast which were hard from my touch.
As her mouth slid behind my ear, she took a harmless bite and I let out a groan, she slowly began sucking my ear lobe, I tightened my grip and drew her closer. It was a tasty form of torture. As her touch warmed my flesh, I groaned.
She couldn’t wait any longer, so she yanked down my jeans and filled herself around my hardened length. The Jet slowed to match our pace as we were about c*m. The soaring jet pushed us back, nearly slamming me, but I didn’t feel it because a surge of pleasure was still coursing through my veins.
I clutched her in my arms, shielding her from any slams. We burst out laughing when the captain ordered us to belt up in our seats over the intercom.
It was as if we were rich, spoiled teens who had just fallen in love and stolen our parents’ aircraft, fleeing to an island to begin a life of defiance.
“Do you want to give it a shot in the seat or are you exhausted?” She came up with the question. For a brief moment, I believed I had knocked her unconscious, but she appeared to be up and well.
I followed her up to one of the seats, where she belted me in. We had the entire Jet to ourselves and didn’t mind if the pilots were watching or hearing us.
She jumped on top of me and began taunting and toying with me after she had tied me up. As she continued to ride me over and over, I was already gasping for air. She moved slowly and rhythmically as if torturing me.
I wanted it to be harsh and tough, but she seemed to be taking her time. But after a few minutes, a flood of overwhelming ecstasy washed over me. We just sat there, attempting to recover, as she collapsed on top of me.
Her long breaths sounded like music to my ears, and the prospect of hearing such a tune for the rest of my life piqued my interest.
She rolled to the side and retrieved a bottle of wine, pouring herself a drink after regaining her breath.
“Are you sure you’re not going to untangle me?” I posed the question.
“Have you had enough?” in a sarcastic tone, she inquired. I chuckled, realizing that the lady I married was unquestionably a machine. “At the very least, pour me a glass of wine,” I asked.
“No, you’re my sl*ve, and I’ll only give you a drink once I’m done with you,” she said. She was always in charge. I knew she wasn’t joking when she said I was her sl*ve. She always wanted to be in control when it came to playing games with me during our intimate sessions.
I enjoyed all the spices she brought into the bedroom, sometimes they were over the top but lived up to expectations resulting in high-paced org*sms. She stood up, exposing her entire naked body for my eyes to imprint. She was so beautifully fit to be put in a museum for all men to drool over.
“What is your level of thirst? What would you do to get a drink?” she asked as she sat on my knees with a glass of wife in her right hand.
It appeared we were playing a brand-new game. I always wondered where she got all the new games for our bedroom affairs, and I always enjoyed it.
With a chuckle, I told her to start asking questions.
“Did Thalia make you bored in bed?” she asked in a serious tone. I almost choked on my saliva. I lost all of my enthusiasm and eagerness. I was perplexed as to why she kept bringing up Thalia.
We were supposed to forget about Thalia. That was a chapter of my life I had closed and wanted to be buried. She could tell I was irritated by the expression on my face.
“Listen to me, honey, before you get mad,” she pleaded.
I responded, “I’m already pi**ed.”
“But it’s only a game,” she assured me, “come on, it’ll be fun.” But I was uninterested. Bringing up an ex during an intimate session was a total turn-off. I never mentioned her ex-boyfriends or ever brought them up but she was always bringing up Thalia at every opportunity she got.
But according to her, I was her sl*ve and had no choice so she disregarded me and demanded that we play the game.
She offered that after she was done with me, we would switch roles and she would be my sl*ve but I was no longer interested in her games. I could see her becoming enraged since she had never received a no before.
“Can you f**k me as you used to f**k Thalia?” She gave the order. As she began unbuckling me, I locked my gaze on her. “Come on, Josh, you’re wasting your time,” she remarked. I was restraining myself from staring at her.
“Okay, if you don’t, you’ll never be able to touch me,” she declared. I knew she was serious and was not bluffing.
“Jessica, you’re a sick woman,” I spat out, irritated.
“You married a sickle,” she replied.
Out of frustration I grabbed her, pinned her on her back, and smacked her hard since that’s how I’d always f**ked Thalia.
I always avoided looking into her eyes as much as possible. Maybe it was because our marriage was a setup and I was guilty at the back of my head. Although there was never any intimacy she was hot and very natural. That was one thing I liked about her.
I remembered her breast size which added to the pleasure I was experiencing as I continued to hit Jessica. It wasn’t long until I was comparing the two women, a battle I’d been battling for over a month. As I came and landed on her back, a vision of Thalia began to form in my mind.
In a sarcastic tone, she inquired how it felt to imagine the woman I had betrayed. I was astonished as she stood up, grabbed a towel, and walked away, bursting with energy, while I sat there catching my breath.
I put on my boxer and joined her after I had recovered. She sat in her seat, a fashion magazine open in front of her.
“What did you say?” I inquired.
She responded, “I played a game in which you miserably failed.”
I laughed and got myself a glass of wine, knowing who she was and how easily I had fallen for her blunder. To be honest, I wasn’t guilty, but I did teach her a lesson about letting sleeping dogs lie.
“Is there anything else you want to know about Thalia? You appear to be quite interested in her,” I enquired, but she remained silent.
“Permit me to be clear: Thalia was uninteresting in bed, she was naive, I married her a virgin, and I made sure she cried on our first night. I’ve never liked having sex with her at all,” I remarked as I stood up and walked away.
By the time we arrived in Canada, it was evening, we walked into the hotel not as excited as we were when we got out of our house.
But Jessica apologized and promised not to bring up Thalia which I very much doubted. To be honest she was the one that made sure Thalia suffered during her last months with me. She missed giving me ideas on how to torment Thalia.
