Pictures at Ten

by Sean Geist

  “Oh. Oh, god that feels good. Not every nigh—”

  My wife had taken me into her warm mouth. I brushed the hair away from her face so I could watch her. It was an erotic sight, until I had to close my eyes as waves of pleasure rolled over me. She licked all along the underside of my shaft and up around the edge of the crown.

  “You like that?” My wife continued to jack me off, while she asked her silly question.

  “Oh, yeah,”

  “You ready for more?”

  “Fuck yeah. You ready?”

  “I've been ready all night. No matter what you thought I was doing, I haven't fucked anyone tonight.”

  “You didn't, you know?” I made a rubbing motion near the base of my cock.

  “No, I didn't play with myself, either. I was saving it for you,”

  “I better not disappoint.”

  “Fucking right.” I loved it when Daphne talked dirty.

  I tossed the covers to the side and moved to settle between her thighs.

  “Not necessary.” My wife grabbed my head and pulled me up for a kiss. “I love how you eat me, but I need something a little bigger inside me right now.”

  “Happy to serve.”

  I adjusted myself and lined my erection up with Daphne's exceedingly wet lower lips. I slid in with hardly any resistance.

  “You weren't kidding.”

  “No, I wasn't fucking kidding. Please just fuck me.”

  I began slowly so as not to come to quickly.

  After a day of agony and doubt, it felt so good to feel my wife's hot pussy wrapped around my cock. We moved together, a well lubricated machine, our bodies colliding in time to a rhythm of our own making.

  Daphne met me thrust for thrust until I could feel her muscles pulse and she let out a deep sigh. I came a moment later and my eruption triggered another, milder, orgasm for my wife.

  “I'm gonna feel that in the morning.”

  “Did I wear you out?”

  “It's late. And I've got to be up in like, five hours.”

  We laid together spooning, my wife's back pressed hard against my chest, my now deflated penis nestled comfortably between us.

  “I'm sorry for spying on you today.”

  “At least you admit it.”

  “I kept waiting for you to admit you kissed Brad.”

  “And I was waiting for you to tell me you watched me kissing Brad.”

  We had both done wrong, only my transgression was worse. Daphne had only been teasing. I had truly doubted my wife.

  “I let a stupid comment get under my skin. That, and the conversation I overheard between you and Brad this morn—”

  “Shh.” Daphne rubbed her body against mine. The friction brought new life to my cock. “Brad's been going through some rough times at work and I was just – oh, looks like someone's ready for a second round.”

  “Is it okay if I ask for a rain check?”

  Daphne reached between us and started stoking my growing erection.

  “You are naughty.”

  “Don't you like it?”

  “I love it.”

  After I was nice and hard, I eased into my wife from behind and slowly pushed in and out. We made love this way for a few minutes, a warm feeling of peace passed between us.

  “So, you like watching me flirt?”

  I reached around and started rubbing my wife's clit. “I didn't like it when I thought you were cheating.”

  “Richard. I'd never cheat on you.”

  “But, I do like it when we tease each other. And the fantasy of you and someone else does arouse me.”

  “You wanna watch me again?”

  My cock flinched at the thought. “Watch you fucking?”

  Again, an involuntary spasm passed through my cock.

  “Oh, no. Just flirt. But if—”

  I put my finger, slick with Daphne's juices to her lips. I could watch her flirt but more than that, I wasn't sure. I didn't want that question raised. Not yet.

  My attention was drawn from my inner turmoil to the sexy minx I had in bed with me when my wife started sucking on the finger I'd put to her mouth.

  “You like the taste?”

  “Maybe. It's not – revolting.”

  Then the thought of Daphne making out with another woman entered my mind and my libido leveled up and I started thrusting with a renewed vigor.

  “Rich, Oh god. You're gonna wear my pussy out.”

  I kept at it, pounding as best and as hard as I could and Daphne kept pushing back to meet each and every thrust.

  “I'm trying.”

  I could feel my climax approach, a dam deep inside my groin straining to hold back the forces. It felt so good, the friction and my thoughts. My dirty, dirty thoughts. Then my wife reached between her legs and ran her fingertips across my balls and the dam burst. I flooded her womb for the second time that evening.

  “Yeah, baby. Gimme that cum. Fill me up.”

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I did the best I could to comply. I counted at least six or seven good solid spurts, until I was lost in the pleasure of my wife.

  After we came down, Daphne slipped out of bed to use the toilet.

  “So, do you want to watch me?” I could just make out what my wife said over the sound of her peeing.

  “Watch you piss?”

  “Ha. Ha. No. Watch me flirt.”

  “With Brad?”

  “Maybe. Yeah.”

  “Gotta chose.”

  “Is it fair to him?”

  “It's just a little kissing.”

  “What if he starts falling in love.”

  “Hold on.” Daphne washed her hands and returned to bed, this time wearing a tank top and a pair of lacy boy short. She snuggled into my arms.

  “I won't let him.”

  So we laid in bed and made plans for me to watch my wife flirting and making out with her friend, sometime in the future.

  That night I dreamt I caught my wife sleeping with another man. I didn't recognize him, but I watched as he pressed her up against the wall and fucked her brains out. He was relentless, driving himself into my wife, his well-toned ass flexing with each thrust. Daphne stared at me throughout, her eyes filled with passion and lust, smiling at my discomfort, until she threw her head back and cried out in passion as she came on his steely cock.

  I awoke the next morning drenched in sweat, with a raging hard-on in an empty bed.

  Chapter 4

  We never did get a chance to indulge our flirting fantasy with Brad. The urgency of the moment passed and work issues came up. Our sex life did rev up with the injection of erotic nitro, but even that eventually dissipated and we went back to making love once or twice a month.

  The season passed; summer became fall followed by winter. Another year gone and I felt as if my life was swirling away from me. I loved my job, but I felt so alone. I had a wife I only really saw two or three days a week. Thank god for the two weeks of vacation we got.

  About a year after the 'incident' at the Royal Mail, we took a trip back home to Texas. We planned to see our parents, check in with some friends and visit a few of our favorite haunts from college. Stepping off the plane at DFW airport and breathing the heavy city air felt like home. We rented a car and checked into the Sheraton in downtown Dallas about an hour after we landed.

  “Wanna go out tonight?” My wife was unpacking her suitcase and looking forward to having a little fun. I'd like to have agreed, but I was exhausted. I looked at my watch. It was six thirty – not really late, but after that flight I just wanted to relax in the room, watch a little television and go to bed early.

  I decided to offer a compromise. “How about we go down to the hotel restaurant and grab a bite to eat there?”

  Daphne agreed and I told her to go down and grab us a table while I freshened up. After a quick pee and a splash of cold water on my face, I felt much better.

  The hotel restaurant was a medium sized sports bar and grill, dimly lit by a few rays from th
e setting sun steaming through the windows and the cold glow of the many televisions hanging on every available empty space on the wall. Half the screens showed the Texas Rangers game, the rest a mix of sports news shows that could only be followed by reading the closed captioning.

  The place was about half full, which seemed pretty good for a Thursday night, downtown, away from the club district. I scanned the restaurant and was disappointed to find my wife had picked a spot at the bar. There were several empty tables that would have been more comfortable, in my opinion. I was in the mood for a nice quiet meal, just the two of us, but Daphne seemed to be in a more 'social' mood.

  She was chatting with the bartender, a tall fella, thin, with short curly hair and a rich dark skin tone. She was sitting near the far end of the bar, the seats on both sides of her were empty. I felt a mild queasy feeling develop in my gut. All my wife was doing was talking to a guy, a handsome guy no less, and my jealousy meter was going haywire. Surprisingly I wasn't mad, instead I was growing aroused. I wasn't sure what was going on, so I decided to stand away and watch.

  I moved away from the door and sat down at a small table in a dark corner. I was sure my wife hadn't seen me, her back was to me the whole time and I didn't see any mirrors behind the bar. This wasn't going to be a repeat of the Royal Mail.

  Eventually the guy behind the bar had to stop chatting and get back to making drinks for other patrons.

  Daphne continued to sit alone, nursing the white wine she'd ordered and watching the man work. I could just imagine the dirty thoughts going through her head as she stared at the bartender's muscular ass.

  After a few minutes, my wife tore her eyes away and looked around the room and then at her watch. She was tapping her feet against the stool legs and I knew she was getting antsy. She must have been wondering where I was.

  This would have been the perfect time to show up, but I really enjoyed watching Daphne, seeing how she reacted when I wasn't around. She was a beautiful woman and I couldn't help but notice a few of the other men at the bar glancing her way. I knew someone would soon make a move on her and I wanted to see how she would deal with a stranger.

  I took my phone out and sent my wife a text.

  - Sorry. Got hung up. Be down in ten minutes. Luv ya.

  I was playing with fire, I knew, but this seemed like a safe environment and I figured things couldn't get too out of hand.

  I hit send and a moment later my wife's phone rang – a Coldplay song that was popular a few years ago was the ring tone she used for my texts – she never put her phone on vibrate. I could make out a furrow on her brow as she read the message. She tapped out a reply and my phone vibrated.

  - Hurry. I'm hungry.

  I'd have to be careful. I didn't want Daphne to get pissed at me.

  - will do. order an appetizer and a beer for me.

  I hit send again and watched Daphne's face relax. She closed her phone and put it back in her handbag.

  My wife was waving down the bartender when I was noticed by the waitress.

  “You want anything?”

  I figured she'd kick me out if I didn't order something. “What local beers ya got?”

  “We've got an IPA from Community and an amber from Four Corners on tap. Temptress and Blood and Honey in bottles.”

  I was a little confused. I was expecting a Shiner or Lone Star. These other breweries must have opened since Daphne and I had left.

  “I'll take an IPA.”

  While I was ordering my beer, I missed a couple of guys who decided my wife was alone and needed some company. They looked harmless enough, standing there chatting, so I wasn't worried about her safety, even as little pin pricks of uneasy erupted in my gut.

  They were our age, maybe a year or two younger. One of the guys was short, maybe five six, with short black hair and light brown skin, natural, not tanned. His buddy was paler with a head of brown, well-groomed hair with more hairspray in it than my wife used on her best, dress-up days. They stood and talked for a moment, but it wasn't long before they took the hint that she wasn't interested and moved on.

  I don't know why, but I was a little disappointed. I think I would have liked to see her flirt a little with these guys. I didn't see them as a threat, someone Daphne would leave me for, just a couple of guys she could have fun, messing around with. Like Brad.

  My phone buzzed. I thought I'd missed a text from Daphne while I was watching the two hipsters walk out of the bar, but then it buzzed again and I realized I had a call. Not a good time. It wasn't Daphne. She was taking a sip of her drink. My phone buzzed again. I noticed another man approach my wife. He was a little older, taller, pale skin, short black hair with a hint of silver around his ears. He was wearing a suit.

  Buzz.

  His tie was undone. Maybe he was having a drink before heading home from work. Or maybe he was from out of town, like us.

  Buzz.

  “Hello.” I tried to keep my voice low, although I probably didn't have to, the bar was loud enough with the hum of conversation and the baseball play-by-play going on in the background.

  “Richard?” The voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it right away, especially while I was watching a handsome man hit on my wife. So many signals crossing in my brain.

  “Yeah. Who's this?” My mind was still divided between the phone call and the seduction going on at the bar. The man had taken a seat next to Daphne and was chatting her up. She didn't seem to mind, but wasn't being overly flirty. She kept her hands to herself and smiled. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Did I want to see more? Did I really want to see my wife cheating on me?

  “Richard. It's Professor Hawkins.” The name rang a bell. A loud one. I knew him. I needed to focus, so I looked away from my wife and out into the Dallas twilight.

  Immediately the fog lifted. “Doctor Hawkins. Great to hear from you.” Bill Hawkins was my advisor in college. We'd exchanged a few e-mails since graduation and were Facebook friends, but I hadn't touched base with him in over a year. “Sorry. I didn't recognize your voice. My mind was... elsewhere.”

  “Hope you're not driving.”

  “No. Just sitting at a bar. What's up?”

  My advisor was never one for small talk, so he cut right to the point of his call. “I saw on your Facebook page you were going to be in Dallas this weekend and I figured you must be interviewing for the Metro-Plex News job. I thought I'd offer you my recommendation.”

  What the hell? I'd been following the job boards and never saw any listings.

  “Honestly, I didn't know they were hiring. I'm just in town for a vacation.”

  “I thought you knew. MPN is looking for a five o'clock producer.”

  “Yes!” I may have said that a little too loudly. Daphne and her companion both looked up. Luckily for me the Ranger's had just scored a run and more than a few people around the bar were cheering. They didn't look my way.

  My emotions were running a gauntlet. Mild jealousy and pain on one side as I watched my wife get chatted up. Elation on the other as I learned the perfect job for me was opening up so I could get back to Texas. My head was spinning and I was having a hard time focusing. Blood that I needed in my brain at the moment was heading toward my cock and that wasn't good.

  I noticed the gentlemen had moved his stool closer to my wife. She laughed at something he said and touched his forearm. He whispered into her ear. She laughed, slapped him on the chest with the back of her hand and shook her head. He ordered another drink, looked at my wife, then made it two. She nodded.

  This was getting to be too much for me to handle. Watching the obvious seduction of my wife or focus on the phone call that would have a huge influence on my career; I had to pick one. My brain picked the job, my cock picked watching my wife, my heart, my real desire, was torn. What did I really want. Seeing my wife fooling around was arousing, painful but arousing, but it would only last so long. She wasn't really going to fuck him. Or was she?

  Don't go there, I thought
to myself.

  The job, that was a step toward a more secure future.

  The heart wanted both, carnal pleasure and my dream job in Dallas, it wistfully sided with my head. My big head. My brain, not my cock.

  I left the bar to finish the conversation in the lobby. It might have been just as loud, but at least my wife and her new friend weren't there. It took about fifteen minutes to get all the details from Hawkins. He was a big wig in the journalism department at SMU and he knew the important people at all the television stations in the Dallas-Fort Worth market, including the News Director and Executive Producer at Metro-Plex. He gave me their numbers and said to mention his name. It wouldn't guarantee me the job, but it would open a few doors.

  After I hung up with my mentor, I called the station and was lucky enough to catch the Executive Producer before she'd left the station for the day. She told me the job was still open and that she'd love to interview me. We scheduled it for the next day at two in the afternoon.

  I was ecstatic, happier than I could remember. I knew I'd get the job. I had the skills, the experience and the right connections. I was confident the job was mine. All I had to do was print out a copy of my resume off my laptop and buy a nice suit, nothing fancy, just something better than the jeans and polo shirts I brought on the trip.

  Visions of running the station filled my imagination as I headed back to the bar to give Daphne the news. I figured I'd have to shoo away her admirer, but I promised myself I'd be good natured about it, try not to embarrass my wife, since she really hadn't done anything wrong. It's not like she could help being so damn attractive.

  I stopped in my tracks at the entrance to the restaurant. Empty seats remained, where Daphne and her friend were sitting just a half hour before.

  A burning hot explosion erupted in the pit of my stomach. Common sense escaped me and all I could do was imagine my wife, off somewhere, making out with that guy, his face buried underneath her deep red hair, softly kissing her sensitive neck while his hands worked their way under her shirt to cup her breasts. Where had this vision come from? Did I think so little of my wife, that the first thought that entered my mind was of her, stepping out on me?

  I absentmindedly moved to adjust my hardening cock.