Staring at her face, he pinned Emily with his chest pressing against her heaving breasts - his cock once again grinding into her groin. Then getting straight down to business, the man forced his hand under Emily's skirt, feeling his way up her soft inner thighs until he found the swell of her puffy mound that was covered by a lacy gusset.

It wasn't moist - it was wet - drenched in her cunt juice! Emily blushed, knowing what was there.

The man grunted out a laugh when he felt the arousal - the confirmation of all that he'd suspected. She could rant and rave, swear she wasn't depraved, but that juicy little snatch told a different story. The outwardly cold and frigid Mrs. Johnson wanted this roughness and degradation - she wanted him - Her Nemesis, and all the nasty retribution he might care to throw at her. A seed had been planted in Emily's fertile imagination and had grown with plenty of nurture. Verbal filth was the nutrition fed, along with hot sultry looks and confident assertion, and now the outcome was going to be reaped.

The man groped at Emily's puffy arousal, savouring his domination. He went behind the gusset and found her naked sex - bloated lips beneath a silky landing strip of blonde pubic hair that Mrs Johnson had recently sculpted. She quivered as a finger slipped inside and stroked the inner folds. A moan of bliss escaped her throat and a tear of guilt welled in each of her eyes - her only token to the shocking infidelity taking place.

"Yeah, Blondie," the man growled, glorying in his conquest, fingering her deeper to invade her vagina. "You want it, don't you? You want it real bad!"

Emily looked away unable to face him and admit to an answer, but Her Nemesis tormentor was having none of that! With his other hand he grabbed Emily's fine featured chin and pulled her head back, staring menacingly down.

"Well? Don't you?"

"Yesss," she hissed, hating herself and hating him, hating the whole crazy world that had somehow become so deranged and had turned her life upside down.

"Yeah, of course you do. But just in case there's any doubt..."

Smirking, he moved the hand that was at her sex, grabbed the gusset and chugged it hard. The g-string snapped and fell from her waist to be pulled from under Emily's skirt. The white gossamer thong was brought to his face where the man sniffed the aroma. "...The smell says you do!" he added with a laugh then he thrust the material under Emily's delicate little nose, giving her a scent of herself. "That's the smell of a bitch in the peak of her season... Of course you want it bad!"

Emily was shaking, her knees threatening to buckle when the thong was pulled away and tossed to the floor. But the man wasn't satisfied with this demonstration - he had another layer to add to Emily's humiliation. It came in the form of his index finger - the one coasted in juice having been up Emily's cunt. He showed her it first in an 'up yours' gesture then pressed the slimy digit onto her trembling lips.

"And the taste says you want it real bad as well. Try for yourself!"

With a moan she opened up for him and sucked her cunt juice off. Emily was horrified as she tasted her own arousal, yet she made no attempt to stop the man. Instead she sucked on the finger, lapping off her essence with an eager tongue. Amused at the display of easy capitulation, a second finger was forced in - the man moving the pair in and out of Emily's mouth in digital fellatio. And she welcomed the action, devouring the fingers, thrilled to have the man's flesh inside her at last. She worshiped the chunky fingers as they thrust in and out, slavering around them almost choking on her lust.

Freeing her chin, the man reached down and with practiced ease unfastened the zipper on Emily's skirt. Emily carried on finger sucking as the man pulled on the skirt and shoved it down her legs to gather at the ankles. A part of her was appalled at what was happening - appalled at what she was doing and so tamely allowing. But the core of her being was rejoicing in the submission, and she didn't struggle one little bit as she was made naked from the waist down. Naked that is, apart from a pair of very expensive shoes - three inch heels that conveniently gave Emily the right extra height to line up her snatch with the man's demanding erection!

Unconsciously stepping out of her skirt and spreading her legs in whorish invite, Emily's mouth was freed and two big hands were suddenly grappling with her ass, pawing at the fine bounty that was Emily's plump buttocks, pulling her to him so he could grind his exposed cock against her slavering pussy that tried to slurp the head in as it rode between the spread puffy lips.

Bare sexual flesh slavered in hunger; one organ hardened solid by blood, the other ripened receptive by the same; both drooling juice in an exchange of fluids and any little vermin they might contain. Emily gasped, again awakened by a voice screaming warning in her brain. She looked questioningly at the man, not even sure herself what she wanted - protection in this situation seemed so out of place. It was the sensible thing to do - but where lay the sense in any of this?

Of course the man read Emily's consternation with ease and verbalised the dilemma, stating his case plainly and giving Mrs. Johnson a choice. "It's all a big risk, Blondie. That's part of the fun. Where's the adventure without any risk? After a month of foreplay, I sure as hell ain't going to put on some rubber, so you have to tell me to stop. Tell me now - because there's no going back if you don't."

The final chance to say 'No' and she gave him silence, which down in the basement is a resounding 'Yes'.

OOMPH!

A second to position then he rammed his bare cock right up her. Eight solid inches of thick throbbing meat punched its way into Emily's vagina. She screamed at the entry which was shockingly violent - the stretch, the friction, the sheer darn size of the dick, when added to the power and speed of the thrust, made Mrs. Johnson see stars. Then she screamed again as her pussy caught fire and turned into a furnace of orgasmic desire. The heat ripped through her tingling body - her penetrated, enervated, cock stuffed body - wave after wave after blissful wave as she quivered in an ecstasy of stationary copulation.

Now that was a trick! Four years of marriage and never once had it happened, and now this man had brought her to climax with a single thrust! He might be Her Nemesis and a brute to be feared, but Emily Johnson was head over heels in lust.

"Dirty bitch!" the man laughed in her orgasmic face. "Dirty cock loving bitch!"

He pulled down and thrust again, literally lifting her off her feet and sending her into sexual orbit. Emily clung for support: arms flew out to wrap around his shoulders; legs did the same around his waist; her convulsing pussy gripped his long fat dick as he in turn held her clenching buttocks. Totally ablaze and utterly crazed, she tossed her mane of ash-blonde hair as she came and came and came.

Two thrusts, that was all, and two minutes of consummation. A lot less than Les normally gave her, but Emily wasn't complaining. How could she ever complain about a moment like this? They were two of the wildest minutes of her life, and Emily knew there would be a lot more to follow. Retribution can be a lengthy process and Her Nemesis had barely got started.