One night when I knew she’d been kept particularly late at the office, I ended up watching out of our bedroom window to see her pull into our driveway. Only, when she did pull into our driveway it wasn’t in her car. It was a black BMW, very definitely not her little yellow Toyota.
Diana stepped out of the passenger’s side of the vehicle, and a tall dark-haired man, who I’d never seen before, stepped out of the driver’s side. She was all smiley with him, grabbing his arm to escort him up to our front door. My heart was threatening to pummel its way out of my chest to see this. And I was hard as a rock.
I crept out of the bedroom to the first floor landing, where I could see them open the front door — and sneak inside the house.
“Are you sure about this?” I heard the guy whispering.
“He’s asleep. It’s fine. He sleeps like a log.”
Diana was giggling, and once the man had quietly closed the front door, she flung herself on him, her arms on his chest, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him down into a kiss.
Jesus.
Who was this guy? Someone from work — I assumed that. He was dressed in a suit, looked the part. She hadn’t mentioned anything about him to me.
Their kissing seemed quite loud in the still of a suburban night — wet as they sucked on each other’s lips, as they stirred tongues against tongues. I could see relatively easily thanks to the streetlight filtered in through open blinds on all our windows. Diana wasn’t moving to close those blinds, either.
She continued to kiss him, passionately, her excitement clear — and infectious.
I saw her taking hold of his hands, sliding them over her body, showing him he was allowed to touch her. I saw him checking out her curves — her hips, her waist, and then her breasts, cupping her, fondling her.
I watched as his hands glided down to her thighs, and emboldened by her little moans, he slowly pushed up her skirt and slid his fingers over the firm roundness of her behind — pulling her body to him as he did so. Was he hard for her? Could she feel it as her body pressed against his? I was sure of it.
My God, I could hardly breathe.
Had this happened before? The way the man had acted thus far made me feel certain that they’d kissed before. But all the touching was new. Did Diana know for certain that I would be able to watch this? Or was she conducting a real affair?
I hoped if it was the latter, she would eventually decide to bring me in on the details. Perhaps she hadn’t so far because she hadn’t been sure it would actually happen, that this guy would go for it.
There was something hot for me in seeing her so confident with this man, leading this adulterous liaison without needing to specifically ask my permission. I’d told her she could do this kind of thing, she didn’t need more than that. She was independently going for what she wanted, and as long as she kept me informed, I’d be happy with that. And I had to believe that her decision to bring him back here to our place was tantamount to her starting to keep me informed of what was happening.
It wasn’t long before Diana dragged her new lover over to the couch. I was trembling a little as I watched them — my mind whirring with questions, the most strident of which was how far my wife was going to go with this guy.
I watched them lie on the couch and continue their kissing, their hands exploring each other’s bodies, Diana lying on her back, the guy over her. She moaned as he touched her breasts, through her clothing and then as he unfastened a few buttons of her shirt, underneath her clothing, his fingers perhaps slipping inside her bra.
I saw her hands moving over his chest, taking in his powerful frame — he was a tall guy, athletic, I could see why she might go for someone like that. Eventually, her hands came to explore the bulge in his pants, and he was quietly moaning as well.
And it was then that Diana flicked her eyes up to the top of the stairs — and locked directly onto mine. She smiled, and I couldn’t help but reflect her smile, an incredible warmth building in my chest as it was confirmed that she knew I was there, knew I was watching, and took delight in giving me a show.
She shifted a little on the couch, stretching her legs apart so that I could catch a glimpse of her white panties, her skirt now pushed firmly up her waist. She once again took hold of her lover’s hand to guide him in what she wanted him to do — and now she brought it down between her thighs, to cover the white of her panties.
I saw him feeling her out, tracing the shape of her sex through the thin white cotton, caressing her. I’ll bet she was already soaking wet for him. Her hand closed over his, showing him how she wanted him to rub her.
As he did rub her pussy, increasing his pace steadily, Diana looked up at me and bit her lip, her body writhing to the rhythm of his fingers. And I watched another man making my wife come with his hands — her body convulsing under him as he tore open her shirt, pushed up her bra and took her breasts in his mouth.
Startled, but rooted to the spot, I watched her sit up and pull off her shirt and her bra, kissing him as he reached to hold her bare breasts, but then lifting herself off the couch to kneel before him on the floor.
“You’re sure about this?” the guy whispered, and Diana nodded. From where she was kneeling, she could look up at him, but she could also look up at me.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I told you — he’s a deep sleeper. We won’t wake him.”
She opened his shirt to reveal a toned chest and stomach, which she kissed her way down while her hands settled over the bulge in his pants once again. I watched my wife unfastening the man’s belt and his fly, and I couldn’t quite believe what was happening in my own home.
She pulled off his pants and his underwear, and I watched as her hand closed around his manhood. She kissed his mouth tenderly as she began to stroke him, his own hands pawing at her breasts. Then she gave a little shake of her head to get her hair out of her face, and sank down on him, taking him in her mouth.
I caught my breath as I witnessed her stretching her lips around her co-worker’s shaft, bobbing down on him. I wasn’t jealous, though — or at least, not particularly so. Her lover closed his eyes, lay back and groaned as she licked him, as she squeezed him in her fingers, as she enveloped his large cock in her mouth. Diana, though, was looking up at me as she swirled her tongue around that huge thing, and it felt to me as though this was all a show for my benefit — and the man on our couch was merely a toy.
She was so pretty, it was so deliciously filthy to witness her going down on a guy, taking in such a sight from a perspective I never had before. It was pornography, but featuring a beautiful woman I actually cared for, who actually affected my heart, not just my cock. And that made it more powerful than anything I’d ever seen before. The wet sounds of her appreciating strange cock cut me to the core — and yet also filled me with burning lust.
At the same time, while she was providing me with a show, she was clearly relishing her chance to enjoy another man, another cock, for the first time in years. And her enjoyment only fueled my own.
How desperately I wanted to go down there and take her back as I watched her — but I was also curious to see how far she would take this, and I was hoping she would take it all the way.
Diana put her hands on her lover’s thighs and now pushed herself up, and for a moment just stood there in front of him, between his knees, letting him put his hands on her, feeling the soft skin all over her body, her ass, her thighs. He kissed her at the waist, then quietly reached for her panties, to peel them down over her hips, her thighs, allowing them to fall to the floor leaving her naked before him.
Still she stood there, allowing him to touch her, his fingers seeking out her wetness, the heat of her pussy, and as he continued to kiss her abdomen, she again looked up at me, ensuring I was following every move, and experiencing the thrill of my fantasy becoming reality.
I saw him kissing her just above her pussy, and envied him. She put her hands on his head, pressing him against her, and looked up at me, a
clear question on her face.
I nodded.
She pulled away from her lover, and calmly sat down on the couch beside him, lying back against the corner, open and available to him. He removed his shirt completely, and now knelt between her thighs. My heart was pounding again, so loud I wondered if I was in danger of being heard.
I had my cock in my hands as I saw him lie over her, kissing her mouth, his big dick swinging under him, brushing over her open pussy. I had to stifle a gasp as I saw him reach down to position himself, to line that huge thing up before easing it into my wife.
My wife was fucking another man.
She moaned long and loud, tilting her head back as he filled her. For a few moments I couldn’t see him actually entering her, though I knew it had happened from the way her body moved under him, the way she moaned, the way he squeezed his buttocks as he thrust into her.
Then he lifted himself up, hands placed on the couch either side of her, propping him up as he fucked her, and I could actually see that big cock squeezing inside her, disappearing into her mound, then reappearing glistening with her juices.
After a while, Diana urged him up so that she could turn around. He knelt between her calves and entered her from behind as she pressed her head into the arm of the couch — and like that, I could see everything.
Jesus — they weren’t even wearing a condom or anything.
The air was now thick with the scent of their sex, it made me feel giddy, intoxicated.
“Fuck me… fuck me… oh God… fuck me…”
They were trying to keep quiet, but she cried out as he held her hips and thrust into her, her body shaking, her breasts jiggling from the force of his pounding. In her fiction about a husband who slept like a log, he really must have been sleeping like the dead in order to keep from waking.
At one point, she ordered him, “Tell me when you’re coming, tell me when you’re coming…”
He didn’t last long, it didn’t go much further before he was grunting, “Coming… coming…”
I watched Diana pull forward, his cock flopping out of her, then turn and slide under him, pulling him down so that his cock rested between her breasts. She pressed her soft mounds around his shaft and allowed him to thrust against her, until he was shuddering, groaning, and releasing jet after jet of thick, white cream all over her chest, her neck, her face.
I nearly came myself.
But I had to be up on my feet, quietly creeping away from the stairs, back to the bedroom to hide myself in the role of sleeping husband, slumbering cuckold, while the man who believed me to be wholly unaware of my wife’s infidelity pulled on his clothes and prepared for a quiet exit.
As I left, I heard the guy whispering, breathless, “Fuck, you’re incredible.”
And my wife telling him, “You’re not so bad yourself…”
In the bedroom I waited, hovering by the window. At last I saw Diana accompanying her lover out to his car, wearing her shirt and her skirt again, while he was fully suited. He opened the car door and then pulled her to him for a kiss, his hands venturing up her skirt.
She said something, and pulled back from him — probably warning him about the neighbors. But she quietly giggled and gave him a flirty smile before he climbed into the car. She drew back in to the house as he pulled out, and I could no longer see her from the bedroom window.
I could hear her come in through the front door, however. Then the sound of her light footsteps darting up the stairs. And there she was, tearing into the bedroom, diving onto the bedroom, in fits of giggles.
“Well you obviously had a good time,” I chuckled. God, how I loved to see her happy.
“Can you believe it?” she said, breathless.
“I guess I don’t have much choice.”
“Oh God, it was so nice…” she said, almost purring.
I moved to the bed, unable to keep away from her. Fascinated by what she’d done, what she’d become. Driven by the most incredible desire for her, this sullied siren of mine.
“Who is he?” I asked her.
She grinned, and turned her hips away from me as she lay there, seeming almost bashful.
“Leland,” she said. “He’s been doing this project with me at work… and I thought he was kinda cute…”
“I get that.”
“We had to work late… and it was just the two of us… and I caught him looking at me…”
“Okay… so you said something to him?”
She flashed her eyes. “I said, ‘you do know I’m married, don’t you’?”
“What did he say to that?”
“He said it didn’t matter to him.”
I knelt down by her on the bed, and she had her back to me, I think perhaps a little self-conscious of herself since she’d just had sex with someone else.
I wanted her, badly. The strong scent of sex clinging to her body only drove me on. I dropped down to kiss her behind, making her giggle, and pull the bedsheets over her. I only tore them away so that I could appreciate her and what she’d just done.
“Hey!” she cried out, but I moved in. I pulled up one of her knees, and now her pussy was available to me, albeit hidden by her panties. I kissed my way over her behind, down to the edge of her soaking underwear, breathing in that strange, devilish smell of horny woman and the man who had fucked her.
For a moment she tried to push me away, but I moaned as I ventured near to her pussy, and it seemed to intrigue her. She stopped pushing me away and started stroking my shoulder as I touched one hand down over her sex, feeling how wet her panties were, how hot her body was.
I parted her buttocks and buried my face in her damp panties, breathing her in, grazing my tongue against the sopping material, before stretching her panties, pulling them aside, sliding my tongue into her unfaithful sex.
In that moment there was nothing as exquisite to me as a woman liberated to sleep with whomever she chose. And nothing so intimate for me as connecting with her like that, my mouth to her sex, even though mere minutes before it had been split by another man’s hard cock.
I experienced their sex close-up, while also claiming her back as my own. She drew in a deep breath and moaned as I slipped two fingers inside her slippery channel, lapping at her clit. But the pressure between my legs spurred me on, and I was soon kneeling up, my hard cock springing out of the fly of my PJs.
“Tonight was the first time?” I asked her.
She nodded. “We were kissing a while,” she said, reaching for my cock as I knelt up against her, her legs stretched up, her ankles either side of my head. “Then I asked if he’d like to take me home.”
“Nice.”
“And on the way home I was stroking him through his pants. I think he wanted to do me in his car on the way home.”
“But you said it was okay in our house?”
“I told him you were asleep, you wouldn’t wake up.”
I kissed her mouth, then she was stroking my cock, and I pulled her panties up her thighs and slipped my fingers back inside her wicked pussy. She was so wet, like I’d never felt her before. I grabbed hold of my cock and rubbed it against her hot, wet pussy, coating it in her juices before slipping its tip inside her.
Then I’d slip it out, stoop to cover her sex with my mouth again, tasting her sweet sex again.
I was in no rush. I went slowly to avoid coming too quickly, and Diana was stroking her clit and my cock when I wasn’t eating her, when I was fucking her.
Then I lay on her, thrusting into her while kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts, sucking her hard nipples into my mouth, breathing in that strange scent of Diana’s lover, of a strange man who had come all over her chest.
I kissed her, I fucked her, I ate her, but ultimately I didn’t last particularly long, even if I tried my best. She rolled on top of me, sliding my hardness inside her, and rode me without mercy, and it wasn’t five or six strokes before I erupted deep within her.
She was beaming, ear-to-ear as she collapse
d next to me.
“I’ve decided to stop my therapy sessions,” she said.
“You have?”
“I don’t think I need it right now. I have this instead.”
“This?”
She reached over to take hold of my softening manhood. “It’s not a one-off, is it?” she asked.
“One-off? Tonight?”
“Your little thing about me cheating on you. Now it’s happened, you think you’d want it to again?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely.”
“Then that’s why I don’t need therapy right now.”
<<<>>>
A Mistress For My Wife
1
“Somebody was hitting on me at the gym tonight.”
When Ana said that to me as I came home late from work one evening, it really wasn’t much of a surprise. Three times a week I saw her return from her regular workouts wearing those little skin-tight lycra outfits, and seeing her like that, I was usually hitting on her as a result. She’d earned a little admiration from those around her.
But it did make me uncomfortable to hear that other guys were coming on to her.
“You wear your wedding ring when you work out?”
“Of course.”
“And he saw it?”
Sitting there on the couch tucking into a bowl full of last night’s leftovers, Ana wrinkled her nose briefly, said, “It was pretty obvious. So you’re mad at me? Rob?”
“No. At him. For showing you no respect. For showing me no respect.”
Actually, I was kind of interested how angry it did make me. It was a rare occasion -- I’m not an angry person, I’m not a hothead. I’m a diversity officer at a mid-sized college that will remain nameless -- part of my job is about dealing with anger, tackling conflict.
I wasn’t angry at my wife. Inside, I was quietly proud of her for looking as good as she did. She had no reason to do quite so many sessions at the staff gym as she did, I’d have adored her all the same. But she always complained that the Puerto Rican heritage on her mother’s side meant she would be destined for a spare tire or two if she wasn’t careful.
Wives with Benefits: Volume Two Page 8
