Madam Sonja by lickitysplitplus

Madam Sonja by lickitysplitplus

Explore the captivating tale of Madam Sonja in this adult sex story that intertwines passion, desire, and intrigue. Discover the seductive journey that unfolds, enticing readers with every twist and turn. Perfect for those seeking an engaging and steamy narrative.<br/>

Explore the tantalizing world of “Madam Sonja,” where passion and desire intertwine in a seductive tale crafted by lickitysplit. Dive into an adult story that ignites the senses and pushes boundaries—perfect for those seeking an unforgettable escape.

Preface

71 years young, & I have so many stories, concocted over many years. I tap these keys a couple hours a day with 2 fingers. One of my exes is a published author; I’m a retired garage owner. I know I’m not a quality, refined writer.

I enjoy sharing my ideas, most are fantasies, some spawned from actual events from my past.

If I don’t measure up to your expectations, PLEASE scroll along, there are 1000’s of stories. (I don’t have much of a life, & they’re published faster than I can read them).

I suspect some will enjoy my efforts.

Hugs to everyone, may your life have as many awesome, erotic memories as I, when you’re my age.

This one is completely fiction.

I’m Kiara, a secretary at a small law firm; I take my daily lunch at 11:30 to avoid the noon rush at the Bistro, across the street. The outdoor tables and chairs are vintage wrought iron, chairs are painted bright white. The green tables have glass tops.

There are 5 outdoor tables, surrounded by a black iron fence with Fleur de Lis arrowheads on the uprights, and my favorite spot is in the corner, the only 2 chair seating, next to the sidewalk, the others all seat 4. Today, when I arrive, the only other patrons are 3 gents at the furthest from what I call ‘my table’.

I’m texting with my bestie, Sandra.

Sandra is Bi, but preferably lesbian, single salesperson for an advertising agency. A petite, fiery redhead, full of piss and vinegar, always searching for a thrill. We met while getting our hair done, went for coffee, she tried seducing me, I turned her down; we’ve remained best friends for a couple years. She consistently suggests she’s still interested whenever I’m ready but has never pushed the issue.

I’m sharing the disdain in my marriage. I’m explaining how Derrick has changed recently; on the rare occasion we have sex; he is aggressive, rougher, more demanding than intimate.

My text: ‘He hardly kisses me anymore, and no compliments or endearing words like he used to; are those signs he’s cheating?’

Sandra Reply: ‘Have you witnessed him flirting or have any texting evidence he’s seeing someone else?’

Me: ‘No, just his lack of interest in me; he used to interrupt me as soon as he got home, he’d be affectionate, we’d kiss, often fondle; he’d get me horny and we’d have a quickie, sometimes he’d carry me to bed, we’d stay there until morning.

Lately he consistently goes straight to shower, changes clothes, then to the sofa; news, or sports on TV, until I call him for supper. I rarely get a kiss. Before this change, every night, we used to chat, cuddle, spoon, or make love. It’s been weeks since I even get a good night kiss.’

Sandra: ‘Have you asked him why, or tried initiating sex?’

Me: ‘I bought an expensive lace negligee. Last night after supper, I did a sexy strip tease, seductively swaying, gyrating, removing my blouse and jeans. I wasn’t sure he even noticed. He showed little interest. When I was down to the lacy lingerie; I straddled him for a lap dance. He stood, dropped his pants, pushed me to the floor, ripped my panties off and did me doggy style. I was really getting into it, but he came so fast; I was in shock, he rarely cums that quickly. He wiped his dick with the ripped panties and resumed watching football; not speaking a word.

Frustrated, sad, I went for a shower; masturbation wasn’t even satisfying.’

Sandra: ‘Wow, well insanity is expecting different results from repeating the same thing. I’d say it’s obvious, he doesn’t appreciate you. Seems like you’re doing the cooking and cleaning, and someone else is getting the rewards.’

Me: ‘Ya, sounds legit, I guess he’s found someone better.’

Sandra: ‘Are you thinking of stepping out, getting some for yourself? You deserve to be happy too. Kiara, you’re a young, vibrant, sexy woman, I’d be happy to take his place, have you squat on my face and squirm from my oral expertise. LOL’

Me: ‘Well, I know you’re ready willing and able. I’m not going looking, but I don’t know if I’d reject an intriguing opportunity if it presented itself.’

My salad was set before me.

“Thank-you.” I acknowledged the waitress.

“Can I get you anything else Ma’am?”

“No that’s fine, thanks.” I returned to texting.

Sandra: ‘So, what now?’

‘I know if I confront him, he’ll lie, maybe I should hire a private investigator, get proof for a divorce.’

Sandra: ‘Well, do something, these things never heal themselves. I’m here for you, I think it’s high time I come to your house, bring cuffs and a whip, rape you, show you what a real orgasm feels like. Keep me posted, I’m patiently waiting.’

‘I will, thanks for being my friend.’

The following day, my usual table, savoring a delicious salad, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, the gorgeous weather. I don’t usually notice vehicles, but this white limo slowed, almost stopping in front of me, it wasn’t impeded by traffic. A few minutes later it’s coming down the street, it must have circled the block. This time it pulls over, parks a few feet in front of me, just across the sidewalk, no one gets out, it’s just sitting there. I look around there are only a few patrons nearby, I get a little paranoid. I can’t see inside the dark tinted windows. I can’t help but keep looking at it as I finish my salad. 5 minutes later it drives away; I consider it rather strange, pay my bill and head back to work.

That afternoon when Derrick gets home, he heads straight to the shower, I attempt to read his texts, it’s locked, I try his password, damn, he’s changed it. I check his pockets, nothing suspicious, as I put my fingers in his dress shirt pocket, I get a whiff of some perfume, I stick my face into the fabric and inhale deeply. Aha, definitely expensive, it’s not mine. Well, that’s suspicious, but maybe he just hugged somebody, definitely not enough for proof of straying.

He again shows me no intimacy, wastes his evening in front of the TV. Another night we don’t speak or kiss goodnight.

Lunchtime the next day; the same Limo arrives, stops, the window opens; A woman, looking a lot like Elvira removes her dark sunglasses, she has expensive, well-manicured nails, she stares directly at me. I’m very uncomfortable, twisting sideways, but every time I glance back, she’s still staring. Full 5 minutes, then she puts her glasses in place, window rolls up and the limo drives away.

Weird, I think about it often that afternoon, at supper I tell Derrick, no response, he doesn’t indicate any interest.

After supper I have a long texting session with Sandra.

Next day, same time same place the Limo stops. A chauffeur in a grey uniform, opens the rear door. Standing at attention holding the door. A long, spectacular leg comes into view. Black dress slit up to her hip, red garter attached to black silk stockings, red stilettos. She’s tall, stunning, front of her dress is a deep V, barely covering her areoles, open to just above her pubic mound. Large melon shaped, round breasts, a heart shaped diamond necklace, dangling, diamond heart earrings, and a heart shape diamond hiding her belly button. Black opera gloves.

The chauffeur holds out his left hand, she sets her dark glasses in his palm, she opens her clutch as she struts directly toward me. Never breaking eye contact, never blinking her sparkling blue eyes, an emotionless expression. I look up, expecting her to say something, she flips her right hand, straightens her long fingers, presenting a card between her middle and forefinger, a large diamond on her next finger over her snug fitting glove.

The moment I take it, she turns, and like a runway model, struts back to the limo, I’m riveted to her sensuous swaying, she dons her glasses, sits, lifts her left leg in, pauses, she tips her glasses lower to make sure I’m watching her; her legs are apart, giving me a full view of her inner thighs, and shiny, silk, silver panties; they look like tinfoil, her forefinger pushes the sunglasses back into place, the right leg disappears, the door closes. I watch the chauffeur go around the back of the car, he gets in, and it drives away.

I examine the very expensive, black card, embossed gold script, ‘Madam Sonja’ nothing else. I flip it over, nothing. ‘Hmmm, weird, what’s this all about.’

Intriguing, it’s forefront in my mind all day. I order Thai for supper, not wanting to cook, I have other pressing plans, I desperately need to pursue. I open a bottle of white wine, have a glass waiting for take-out.

I remain at the kitchen table with the wine and my laptop, Derrick takes his plate to the sofa, of course, to watch sports.

As I’m eating, I do an internet search for Madam Sonja, nothing. I try ‘Sonja’ combined with our city name. Only one result, Sonja Kovik. I click on it.

The new page is a picture of her, a near mirror image of when she first stepped out of the limo. An Elvira look-alike, dressed in a red sequenced evening gown, her perfect bosom bulging under the edges of the deep V front. That same heart diamond pendant, and earrings. The photo is taken on an angle, her face looking to the right; right leg exposed in the full length, slit up to her hip, red stilettos. Her right hand, sculpted red nails, delicately holding a glass of red wine, looking as if she’s lifting it to her puffy, glossy, bright red lips. A perfect photo for a wine commercial, the designer dress, or actually anything on the page.

I investigate further. Every page has pics of stunning women, fancy dresses, swimsuits, elegant homes, pools, cars.

Derrick returns his plate to the table, pours himself a wine, I slide my glass over, he ignores it, returns to the TV. I pour myself another wine, filling my glass, leaving barely a mouthful in the bottle, in case he returns for a refill.

His cell chimes, he grabs it up, looks at it, and heads to the other room. Very suspicious, I stealthily lean my ear against the door, trying to hear. I hear his voice but only faintly make out a few words, then a bit louder and quite distinct I hear.