My public exhibitionism and sexual endeavors were just the beginning. As the weeks passed, Lana became more deeply entrenched in my conscious self, Louise retreating further into the bowels of my mind. I attempted, daily, to vanquish the oversexed, blond succubus, but found myself wantonly consumed by Lana. She ruled my psyche. Even forcing myself to not think about her, or what I’d done as her, was tantamount to inviting her to regain control.

Every idle moment was spent staring at the wig, seeking the resolve to dispose of it. Every evening, Lana would emerge, victorious, as I donned the wig, addicted, needing just one more taste of that wild, decadent feeling. Although I surrendered, willingly, even eagerly, to Lana’s influence, a part of me still attempted to fight her. I fought against her, fought against my overpowering desire to become her one last time.

A tipping point in my losing battle for self-control was in a wild nightclub one evening. As Lana, I reveled in the attention of being openly fingered, then licked to multiple orgasms on the dance floor while the rest of the club-goers looked on, shouting encouragement and taking videos of my debauchery on their phones. Being openly eaten out was such a thrill. Louise was shy and conservative; Lana had zero inhibitions and got off, hard, on being the center of sexual attention. Even without the wig, I masturbated over it. Exhibitionism was quickly integrated into Lana’s needs, permeating my every waking thought.

Lana forced me to go, as her, to a porn theater one night; publicly fucking two strangers had failed to quench the heat in her dripping cunt. Bent over the back of a grimy theater seat, her mouth spewing vile obscenities, she fucked, stroked, and drained the cum from anyone bold enough to come near. With a cock in either hand, another one slamming into her cunt, being used like a fuck-toy, her filthy mouth ordered the others to stroke their cocks for her and jizz all over her body. Lana’s sexual depravity knew no bounds, and she loved giving dirty talk as much as she loved hearing it. Such smutty language began peppering my daily, Louise-dominant, speech.

When Lana returned to the gallery district to view a “The Art of Sex” exhibit, she had firmly established her dominance. Dressed in only a see-through minidress, setting herself up as an artistic display of human sexuality, she spread her legs, fingering herself, a crudely painted sign, reading “Free Oral Sex” beside her. Lana made herself cum over and over, fucking herself furiously, while she sucked several dozen cocks and licked more than a few pussies.

She drank her fill of hot, sticky cum and artfully painted her body with jizz and sex. Lana’s hunger for cum and lesbian sex also knew no limits. A critic’s review of the exhibit, in the morning’s paper, touted the creativity and masterfully worked humanized display as a statement of sex-positivism. She spoke of the inclusiveness of sexuality and how all people, man, woman, or transsexual deserved physical pleasure. Emboldened by this, Lana began to emerge on her own, wig or not.

Lana and I were locked in a constant battle for control, and Lana was winning. The fight was never-ending. As I walked down the street, finishing shopping before I met my husband at home, she and I were still fighting. Wig or not, she’d either be screaming in my head, leering from every reflection, or just taking control when she pleased.

I was wearing a simple, black dress of mid-calf length with a tie around the waist. Reflected in the storefront windows, Lana had knotted the hem up high on one side, tied the sash extra tight to accentuate her tiny waist and curvy hips, and unbuttoned the top few buttons to let her ample, enticing cleavage spill out to attract stares and catcalls.

“I’m fucking telling you, something’s not right with that bastard husband of yours,” she was lecturing. “Look at me, I’m fucking fuckable. No man can resist pulling his cock out and cumming all over my face unless some other woman has already drained him.”

“You’re wrong,” I shouted to my reflected alter-ego. “Henry’s a good, decent man. His cum is fully intact.”

A middle-aged man, hearing my random-seeming outburst, glanced at me as if I were insane.

“You can fucking eat my ass! What are you staring at, you pervert?” He averted his eyes and hurried along his way. Lana tittered at me from a display window.

“Oh fucking yeah?” she countered. “I triple-cunt dare you to find out. Fix your dress how I want it, like this,” her image gestured, “let me at him, and you’ll know.”

“As if I’d ever give you control again.”

“You said that last night, but you still wound up nude in the bar getting fucked up the ass with that huge, yummy cock in your mouth.”

“Fuck you, Lana.”

“Self-love is always the best. I know! Let’s go into that porn store, buy a huge dildo and try it out in the middle of the store.”

“Fucking slutty whore.”

“Yes, you are.”

Lana would not win; I could not let her control me.

Finally arriving home to meet my husband, who had a day to be with me, I ignored the fact that I knotted my dress hem way up high, tied the waist sash very tightly to enhance my figure, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of my dress to let my enticing cleavage spill out. He had gotten home early, surprising me. He was lounging on the couch, tie loosened, his feet propped up, reading a business paper.

“Fuck me hard. I didn’t know you’d gotten in, already.”

He smiled, broadly. “I love it when you talk naughty,” he said casually, his gaze returning to his paper. “Wish you’d do that in bed.”

“When did you get in?”

“Got to the airport a few hours ago, thought I’d surprise you. I thought we could just sit in front of the TV and enjoy each other’s company.”

“See?” Lana screamed in my head. “He’s fucking cheating.”

“Just fuck…” my husband looked up. I was so used to talking aloud to Lana that I did it out of habit. “Me,” I recovered, “just fuck me.”

I was horny, after all. Constantly trying to not think about putting on the wig made me want to do it all the more. Reminiscing about all the dirty, depraved, perverted things I’ve done had gotten me so wet that I needed to fill my aching cunt. Although I desperately needed a hard, rough, brutal fuck, my husband’s gentle lovemaking would do.

Henry smiled, set down his phone, neatly folded his paper, and stood. “I guess I’ll go get cleaned up, then.” He strode toward the bathroom, whistling. My husband always insisted on showering before we made love. He’d spend an hour or more in there, getting everything sanitary and clean, brushing his teeth, and primping.

Usually, such a lengthy wait was a huge turnoff. By the time he was done pampering himself, the last vestiges of arousal dwindled to nothing. However, I passed the time by thinking about how the mechanic I fucked last week was not at all worried about cleanliness. He was a real man. When I pulled into the garage, wearing just a tight minidress and the blond wig, to complain about something hard and rigid slamming under my hood, he was more than happy to stand back and let me lean over the front of the car to show him where my problem lay. He took me in that position, his greasy hands staining my dress, smudging my nude flesh, his hard cock filling me with his cum.

A whimsical, electronic, chiming buzz interrupted my reverie. Henry’s cellphone was humming and blinking merrily, the vibrations causing it to jiggle on the table beside the couch. I wondered if the vibrations would feel good against my soaking cunt. Another cascade of tones followed, then another. Somebody was blowing up his message box.

“Fucking see what is,” Lana advised. “You know that you want to.”

“No,” I argued with myself. “that’s a betrayal of trust.” Lana laughed at me and laughed even harder when I picked up the phone to look.

Seeing the name, Susan, almost caused me to put the phone down. Susan is the name of his assistant and secretary. Though we'd never met in person, they were in constant contact for business reasons, and she sometimes accompanies my husband on trips. My hand had already begun putting the phone down when my eye caught the words, “so excited,” in the message. Intrigued, I read it completely.

“Got it. Friday night, 6:00 PM, at the Hilton. I’m so excited to be with you so soon, again.”

It could be anything, I told myself.

“He’s fucking her,” Lana insisted. “I fucking told you so.”

“He is not, you fucking cunt.”

“Really? What do the other messages say?”

The other messages consisted of only five words, “I’ll wear this for you.” Those five, heart-breaking words were followed by a picture of Susan wearing a white garter belt and thigh-high stockings. A matching, slutty bra and panties, little more than pale wisps of lace, were the only other things she wore.

The next picture showed her naked breasts, her face smiling. The third picture was a mirror selfie of her nude ass, the panties seductively pulled down over her thighs. A few more pictures followed, each of them showing her touching her pussy in various stages of arousal. The last photo showed two of her fingers buried in her pussy.

“Amateur,” scoffed Lana. “Four fingers feel better. Told you so.”

I was devastated, but Lana came to my rescue, quite vindictively. Her advice of not getting mad but getting even took advantage of my despondent state. She showed me a way out, and I took it. I was fully aware that I had completely surrendered all of myself to her, but I didn’t care. I welcomed submitting all of myself to Lana’s control.

Hearing the shower turn off, followed by the cheating bastard’s annoying humming, I sprang into Lana-inspired action as soon as I heard him turn on the hair dryer. Undoing my conservative bun, I let my hair fall over my shoulders and shook it out. I quickly stripped nude, threw on my red, satin robe, and took several nude and raunchy shots of myself.

Lana possessed me, even without the wig. She thrust out my ripe breasts and sucked on my nipples, shooting a picture. Lana fingered my hot and juicy cunt as my hips pumped back and forth. The blond slut slapped my ass into redness before taking a shot. She brought me to the brink of orgasm, my fingers covered in nectar, taking nasty selfies. I loved it; I surrendered to it, moaning in lust at my depravity.

I quickly sent them to my husband’s phone, a huge, vindictive smile on my lips. I knew what I had to do. Lana was perverted, deviant, and manipulative enough to see it through. I made it to the living room and had myself ready for him before the incoming message notifications on his phone had stopped bleeping and blinking.

Henry came out, a towel wrapped around his waist. I was sitting in our armchair, facing the couch, my legs hung over the arms, and my hands busy between my legs. My cunt was dripping with wetness, my fingers alternately fucking my hole and flicking my clit. He stopped and stared when he saw me. At least he had the decency to grow a bit of an erection.

“You said you like dirty talk,” I told him in a stern tone. “Sit on the couch, now.”

“Louise,” he began. I cut him off.

“No fucking lip from you, you bastard. You sit your ass on the couch right now and pick up your motherfucking phone.” Deep inside myself, Louise mentally verbalized her approval as Lana’s filthy, dirty, perverted mouth spewed obscenities.

He blanched but obeyed. Even though I had just caught him cheating, I was getting turned on by what I was doing. When I spoke, Lana’s voice, filled with lusty innuendo and perverted undertones, reverberated off the walls.

“Now, check your messages,” I commanded, still fingering myself.

I watched as he did and moaned in lust when his confused expression changed to one of guilt. I knew that he had seen the pictures Susan had sent him. The fear in his eyes betrayed him.

“Pull out your fucking cock and look through all the pictures,” I paused for cruel, dramatic effect, “that I sent you.”

He stared at me for a moment, then his finger made the appropriate swipes on his phone screen. Relief washed over his face when he saw the nudes I had just sent him. He smiled. His already-hard cock made its appearance. I laughed when I saw it, so average, not at all worth screaming over. If he was going to get all hot and bothered over his secretary, I might as well get off to it.

I slammed two fingers into my cunt, hearing the wet sloshing sounds as I fucked myself. “Now stroke that fucking cock of yours until you cum.”

“You’re so dirty, Louise.”

“LANA! Lana, Lana, you scumbag. I’m Lana,” she screamed in my head.

“Don’t look at me.” I scolded. “Look at the dirty fucking pictures on your phone and jack yourself off to them, knowing the entire time that I’m sitting right here, fingering myself to the sight of you.”

I counted his gestures. He went past my pictures, back to Susan’s, and started pumping his cock. He quickly grew harder and began panting.

“That’s it, you fucking pervert. Stroke that cock for me. Shoot your cum while I watch. Listen to me fucking myself, fingering my wet cunt.”

“I never knew you were…”

“Shut the fuck up and fucking cum for me. Oooh, aah. I’m going to squirt my hot juice all over the chair. You’d better show me how turned on you are.”

It was all over in a few meager minutes. My husband came in a few pathetic but juicy squirts, his jizz coating his throbbing cock. My orgasm was hot and intense, sending me into convulsions of pleasure.

As soon as I could, I walked over, licked his cock clean, and gave him a hot, passionate kiss on the lips. Henry tried to pull away, but I wouldn’t let him avoid my cum-covered lips. I ignored the picture of his secretary fingering her pussy on his phone.

“Goodnight, dear,” I said lovingly. He had no idea what I, and Lana, had in store for him.

In bed, my legs spread, hands busy between them, fingering myself, I fucked my slutty hole and plotted. After three orgasms, I got up and checked on him. He was happily snoring away. I went back to bed and got myself off a few more times. Louise was completely gone by then, having surrendered all of herself to Lana. No longer having a conscience, sleep came easily. I woke up bright and early, my first thoughts were wondering where my wig was and if I wanted to fuck one, two, or maybe three people that day.

The sex would need to wait. I had until six o’clock to get everything ready. Henry was gone, already. That was typical; now, I knew why. Nude, cavorting in the house with the curtains open in case anyone wanted to see, I breakfasted on sweet danishes and coffee. Some calls had to be made, and I only had today, before six, to get it all done.

While eating, I logged onto our cellphone account and downloaded copies of their pictures and text messages. As it turned out, their affair had been going on for some time. Louise would have never thought to suspect, but Lana had taken over, and she immediately scanned through the multitude of dick pics, dirty sexting, and Susan wantonly displaying herself like a cheap whore. In fact, her pictures were so slutty that I took some pointers on how to pose.

A quick call to a divorce lawyer followed, setting up an appointment to have paperwork set up that very day. All that was left was for me to shop and put my plan into action. It was a bit sparse on details, but I knew things would somehow work out. Lana is like that. She could get away with murder. I wasn’t going to kill anyone, just get what I deserved.

Downtown, shopping at the most exclusive and expensive boutiques, it was odd, almost lonely, not having Lana screaming at me from every window pane, every reflective surface. Flirting sexually and aggressively with the manager of a designer dress boutique netted me a huge discount. His cock was short but thick in my mouth as I sucked him off in front of the fitting mirrors. I didn’t suck him off because I wanted a discount, that was just a nice bonus.

Flashing my nude, wet pussy to the shoe salesman netted me a good time in the back room, bent over the back stock, but no discount. However, the young, Hispanic clerk was sweet, handsome, muscular, and very well-endowed. I kept his phone number in case I wanted more, which I did.

My visit to the lawyer’s office went quickly and smoothly. A quick disclosure of my situation, current evidence presented, and a quick bit of licking her sweet, succulent pussy allowed me to leave with recently-prepared papers in hand. In the divorce papers, everything I wanted was outlined; it only needed his signature. My lawyer had more than enough empathy for my plight, her misandry bursting forth with every comment. I also got her private cellphone number in case I needed anything, anything at all. More hot, lesbian sex topped that list.

I had just enough time to get myself ready and head to the hotel. My dress was a medium olive color, of perfect cut. Originally designed to go over an underdress, my lack of chemise advertised my body rather than merely adding sexual allure. The single shoulder strap swept down over my chest, exposing the top of my right breast and a generous amount of my left. The designer cut washed over the contours of my body, adding color but not hiding my shape at all. If one glanced my way, my lack of confining underwear was obvious. Every movement loudly advertised that fact. It was perfect.

A slight jiggle and sultry request instantly enslaved the desk clerk. “Excuse me, handsome, did Mr. Stevenson check in yet?”

I admired his ability to check the computer and stare at my hard nipples at the same time.

“Yes, ma’am, he and his wife just went in to dine.”

“His wife? How quaint. Thank you.” I wiggled my ass for him as I made my way to the restaurant just off the lobby.

“I’d like that table over there,” I pointed, making sure my body was perfectly displayed for the maître d’. My feminine wiles, including my ample tits threatening to spill out of my dress, quickly persuaded him to give me the table I desired. I had the perfect vantage to both spy upon and eavesdrop on my wayward, cheating husband and his secretary, Susan.

From my position, I was almost facing Susan. My husband’s back, slightly turned, was all I could see of him. However, I was just within earshot. Susan looked impressive; I had to give her that. I had only seen her in pictures with her makeup looking very plain and her hair pulled back in a conservative, business-like fashion. That evening, she wore a long, white dress, slit up the side and showing plenty of leg. Her makeup was smokey and sultry, her black hair worn long, cascading over her shoulders. She looked quite sexy, entirely seductive. My pussy got wet just looking at her.

She’s so hot, Lana screamed in my head, or I thought to myself. It was the same thing, now. Can’t say I blame him. I’d like some of that, myself.

Their attraction toward each other was obvious. Their fingers would tenderly touch as they conversed. Their eyes emanated passion. Her facial expressions were those of a woman in seduction mode. Ordering a few drinks and some appetizers, I pulled out my phone and pretended to be absorbed in it while I recorded their interactions. Despite myself, I found myself intrigued by them, lust for Susan boiling up within me.

Fully aware of what I was doing, I propped my phone up against the candleholder and just stared at her, spreading my legs enough to let the cool, air-conditioned air waft between my legs. She and I locked eyes almost instantly, a huge, sexy smile playing across her lips when she saw my bare, shaven cunt. I held eye contact, licking my lips in lusty hunger. So the slut was into women as well?  That was perfect.

We played “stare then look away” all through our appetizers. Suddenly, she abruptly got up and marched, determinedly, to the ladies’ room. She exited less than a minute later, her face flush with redness.

“That was fast,” I heard Henry say to her. His tone held none of the detached, disinterested boredom that it did when he spoke to me.

“I have a surprise for you,” she enticed. “Hold out your hand.”

I watched her expression change from flirty to overwhelmingly naughty, sexual hunger. Her hand moved over his, dropping her crumpled panties into his palm. I smiled, nodded, and spread my legs even further. Susan smirked at that and spread her legs, giving me a perfect view of her exposed pussy. The slit in her dress made exposing herself effortless. Her pubic hair was nicely trimmed, bare on the bottom with dark tufts up top.

While they conversed, her eyes were locked on me. Nodding towards the ladies’ room, I got up, straightened my dress, basking in the glow of all eyes on me, and slowly sauntered near their table. She downed her drink as we stared at each other.

I heard her say, “I need to pee,” as I walked to the bathroom. Within seconds, she had entered behind me.

Without a word, our lips locked into a torrid, heated, passionate kiss. As if of one mind, our fingers sought each other’s wetness. My other hand grabbed the back of her head, smashing her lips into mine as I humped her hand, my breath coming in gasping, moaning pants.

“Why don’t we retire to your room,” I whispered into her ear.

Susan was moaning into my neck; her body shuddering from my fingers in her snatch. “I can’t,” she sighed with both passion and exasperation. “My boyfriend is here with me, and we have a room together.”

I thrust two fingers inside her cunt, feeling her shudder in pleasure. Fucking her deeply and slowly, my fingers curled around to hit her most sensitive spots, I waited until she was close to orgasm.

“Give me your room number and leave the door unlocked. I’ll sneak in and we can surprise him.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I want you…I want that.”

“Then go, now. I’ll be along shortly.” I pulled my fingers out of her pussy, wiping her wetness over her lips. My hot tongue slowly licked the sweetness from her mouth.

Waiting a few moments, I exited the ladies’ room just in time to see her pulling my husband out of his chair and leading him out to the lobby. Henry’s eyes stared at me in lust, a look Louise hadn’t received in years. As expected, he failed to recognize me. Returning to my table, I stopped recording on my phone and reviewed some of the footage, a smile on my face as I enjoyed my steak. After what seemed to be the proper amount of time, I strolled out of the restaurant and went up to the eighth floor, easily finding the room. It was unlocked, as promised.

Louise would have been nervous, scared, and an emotional wreck. However, Lana was in full control; she relished the situation, never feeling trepidation or worry. I quietly opened the door and walked into their hotel room, locking the door behind me.