Conflagration

by Matthew Lee

  Fifteen minutes later they joined me. They wore thick white casino robes and both had wet hair.

  “Had to wash off the sweat and smoke,” Tiffany offered. I tried to give a stern and reproachful big brother look.

  “You're married,” I said.

  “Yes, I am, to a wonderful man, who never ever needs to know about any of this.”

  Chris looked nervous but Tiffany took his arm and aimed them both towards the kitchen. “Let's find some grub, Bub!”

  We settled in around the big screen and talked as they ate some snacks. Chris offered for us to spend the night, no doubt hoping for a round two and maybe even the chance to fuck my wife, but Tiff declined, reminding him she had to fly home. She made me turn around as she put her halter and skirt back on in front of Chris. I carried her boots for her and she walked out of that casino bare-foot.

  I thought about chastising her for what she'd done. I considered telling her my feelings were hurt, my trust bruised. I thought about a million different ways to voice my displeasure regarding her actions, but as soon as we were in the car, I forced her head into my lap to suck my dick. She was thrilled, rightfully guessing that meant she was off the hook. She sucked me like a semen demon.

  I came so fast.

  At home we showered and I was ready to go again. I pounded her, punishing her for her technical infidelity. She welcomed it and came several times, gleefully telling me how much she loved being a hot and sexually wayward wife. I unloaded far up in her.

  We did not talk about what she'd done. We both knew she'd told me what she wanted and I'd told her no. We were both aware of the fact she'd done it anyway. Either I put my foot down and demand an apology, either I draw a line in the sand and tell her she'd actually gone too far I would not stand for it, or I keep my mouth shut. If I draw that line, I forever alter and probably end her extra-curricular activities. I was not ready to do that. So I kept my mouth shut.

  Now it is weeks later and our sex is better than ever. We both know nothing bad came out of what she did. I was afraid in the moment but here, on the far side of it, we both understand my fears were unfounded. Tiffany knew I was a little hurt and sensitive about it so she avoided any direct reference to that night, but we fucked and fucked and fucked every day since then. With time the sting faded. One night after a particularly vigorous romp we lay in bed talking when a thought occurred to me.

  “Tiffany, if I had said it was okay, would you have fucked Chris or were you serious when you said your pussy belongs only to your husband?”

  I felt her body go tense. After several heartbeats she spoke. “I would have fucked Chris.”

  My sub-conscious brain must have been processing this idea for days because not only was I not surprised, I knew her answer before she said it.

  “So that means you probably still want to.”

  Her voice was subdued, like she confessed. “Yes.”

  “Hmm. That makes me wonder; of the times we've made love since that night, did you ever imagine it was he fucking you? Did you?”

  “Yes. Many times. Does that bother you?”

  “No. My logical brain already knew you would answer yes. You wanted him that night so why wouldn't you still want to? You are clearly attracted to him and he you. He's hot and handsome. Honestly, you two make a gorgeous couple.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes, I noticed it that night at the club. Other people thought so too; you turned heads left and right.”

  “I love that,” she murmured. “I'm hot enough for Chris?”

  I ignored her to finish my point. “On the other hand,” I continued, “it is a hard thing to hear your wife say she desires another man. My emotional side hates those words at the same time they kind of turn me on. Weird, huh?”

  She chuckled. “We've done so many weird things this year I don't even keep track of them anymore. One thing I do know is every one of them has brought us closer. I feel more connected to you than ever before.”

  “Same for me. Crazy.”

  “It is. I remember in college I didn't really care too much for my roommates. Then one weekend they celebrated a birthday and invited me and we drank and smoked and snorted. By Monday we were great friends; getting high together bonded us. This feels like that. You show me so much trust and vulnerability. I love you more now than I ever have.”

  We sat with our own thoughts for a time. We really had come a long way.

  When she spoke her voice was small and quiet. “So, can I?”

  Now it was my turn for my whole body to tense. Funny thing was, I wanted her to and after a moment I told her so. I caught her completely by surprise.

  “Oh my fucking God! David, are you serious? You better not be teasing me. Are you?”

  “Nope. I can picture it perfectly and it's fucking hot. It scares me but in this arena I scare easily, I think. In the end it always turns out I had nothing to fear.”

  She pounced on me. Her lips were hot and wet and she kissed all over my mouth and then moved up to my eyes. She hugged my head against her big tits. It suddenly occurred to her that her over-reaction might hurt my feelings and she regained her composure instantly but struggled to keep it.

  “When?” she asked, her feet squirming. “And how? What will you do? No way my brother can be there for that. Do you trust him now? Am I going to see him alone?”

  I let that sink in; what would that be like? I imagined myself waiting at home for her to return, knowing she was in his arms, kissing him, sucking him, knowing he moved inside her. No, no way, too much.

  “No, I have to be there.”

  “Gross. How?”

  I thought for a moment. I stood on my knees and looked around our bedroom.

  “Bring him back here, Tiffany. Tell him you're staying with me again but I got called into work so you have my house to yourself. We can remove all the pictures and other items that show you are actually my wife. I can hide in the closet on your side of the bed. It overlooks the whole bedroom. Plus, that way I'll be close by in case of trouble.”

  “Trouble?”

  “We don't know this guy, Tiffany. I'm protective, in spite of what I'm agreeing to.”

  She looked around the room until our eyes met. Her eyes danced as she spoke.

  “Jesus, David; in our own home, in our own bedroom, in our actual bed. Fuck, that is hot as Hell. That's hotter than a hotel room. We'll never look at this room or this bed in the same way. Imagine the first time you and I have sex again after I've done it with him. Goddamn. This bed will become as sacred as an altar.”

  She walked on her knees across the bed and took my hands. Her lips came up to mine and we kissed and I felt all the love and trust behind it. Her lips were hot and wet and slick and she put every ounce of all she felt for me behind that kiss.

  As soon as that kiss ended, doubt crept in. This was not sexy flirting or even a blowjob, this was actual fucking. Chris would make love to Tiffany in our bed. I looked down at it.

  “I'm trembling,” Tiffany murmured. I put my arm across her shoulder. When we laid down I pulled her close and we snuggled. Neither of us spoke for a long time and I began to think she'd fallen asleep when she asked me a question.

  “You said Chris and I make a striking couple? Do you mean if people saw us out in public together they'd think I was hot enough to be with a guy like him?”

  Behind her I rolled my eyes.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, of course, David.”

  My mind reeled. “How can you be one of the sexiest most beautiful woman in the world and not know it?”

  “I'm not. You say that because you love me.”

  The depths of her insecurities boggled my brain. Despite constant evidence to the contrary, Tiffany doubted her own attractiveness. I was about to berate her for being so mousy when a little alarm bell sounded in my head. Her lack of confidence was real and probably terribly unpleasant for her. I'm sure she would gladly be rid of it. Me harassing her about a fault is no way to
help her get over it. I totally changed gears.

  “I've heard many men say it, Baby. Lots of men. They say it for the same reason I do; it's true. You hear our compliments and enjoy them but I also see how quickly that pleasure fades for you. You battle yourself. Trust me, Tiffany, you are something extraordinary and special. Your face is prettier than most models and your body beats theirs by miles and miles.”

  I felt her toes curl at the end of the bed.

  “You're a sweet man.”

  “That is also true.”

  We spent the next few moments in silence again until she asked me a question.

  “Would it bother you if I met Chris socially once or twice? Like for coffee? Without you?”

  How good-looking was this fucker? My wife wanted to be seen in public with him? I calmed myself. She was an adult and trustworthy.

  “Okay, Baby. I'd want frequent updates though. A call before and after and texts during. Blame it on your paranoid Los Angeles husband. I'd want to know where you were and what you did too.”

  “Deal. This should be fun.”

  It took us awhile but eventually we fell asleep.

  I was at work the next day when my cell phone buzzed with a text message from Tiff. She met Chris for lunch. That was fast. I heard nothing for an hour and then she sent me a text she was back at work and everything had gone fine. I lit her phone up; did anything happen? Where did you go? What did he look like? What were you wearing? What did you talk about? I fired question after question at her. She answered as fast as she could until finally calling a time-out and letting me know she'd tell me everything when we got home. I was a coiled spring the rest of my working day.

  At home that night I talked her ears off. Only after two hours of intense grilling was I satisfied that nothing had happened, they met for lunch and enjoyed light conversation, and I was okay with her doing it again. She'd told him she was in town for two weeks this time.

  She saw him every day. Sometimes they met for lunch, sometimes after work. They ate dinner, saw a movie, went to a concert, and even visited a hot new Vegas nightclub courtesy of Chris and his social elite connections. Tiffany said whenever there were hot girls around he ignored them for her and she loved it. She described him as an addicting ego-boost.

  My discomfort was obvious so she went out of her way to let me know nothing physical ever happened other than kissing cheeks and an occasional light hug. She said he was a perfect gentleman. She sent me texts often and kept me posted on what was said and where they were. She told me she couldn't believe she had hooked a guy like him and kept dating because she was sure the bubble would burst. She wanted it to happen sooner than later. When she was back with me she was fully present so no harm in allowing her this indulgence. Besides, it sure turned her into a tigress in bed. I didn't care that her excitement was fueled by another man. I felt odd that watching her have sex was easier on me than allowing her to date, but there it was.

  As the two weeks drew to a close she asked me if my offer still stood. I knew which offer she meant. I admit I hesitated before answering and I know she saw it. My stomach flipped and flopped all over the place. I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath and I told her it did. She walked up to me and took both my hands, gazed deeply into my eyes.

  “Then I'm meeting him for dinner tomorrow after work and bringing him back here. We should get home around eight but you should be ready before that in case we cut dinner short. I can't believe this is really happening, David. I won't believe it until it actually starts to happen. I'm so nervous. Are you, Baby?”

  “Incredibly. I can't believe this is really happening either. I have a million emotions raging. I couldn't possibly sort them out.”

  We stood in the kitchen silently for a bit and then Tiffany announced we should prep the house. I agreed and we got to work. Soon we had a box of every picture she was in or every knickknack a wife would have. We turned our home into a bachelor pad, right down to a T-shirt tossed over a chair and some socks on the floor. Unless Chris dug through the closet he'd have no idea.

  In the master bedroom and bathroom, we spent a little more time because there was more to hide. Then we turned our attention to my hiding spot in the closet. We cleared a space for me and tucked a tall kitchen stool inside so I'd have a place to sit, we adjusted some of the full-length mirrors around the room so I'd see them from every angle. At times our work seemed surreal; we created a porn set in our bedroom for a feature staring my wife and her hung lover. By the time we finished we were both freaked out and turned on.

  We hadn't had sex for a few days so I gathered her in my arms and suggested a shower. she held my hand and took one step towards the bathroom before stopping.

  “No.” she whispered, her mind someplace else.

  I looked down at her.

  “No,” she said again, louder. “If we shower we'll have sex. I want to be unspoiled. I want to be as fresh as possible for him.” She looked up at me. “By the time Chris leaves tomorrow night you'll be a wild man and I like that idea. You go shower first. Alone.”

  Evil. Evil, mean, and twisted.

  Later that night as we got ready for bed I asked her something that had been on my mind. I'd been snipped years ago so we never talked or even thought anymore about it.

  “Honey, I don't want to be the rain on the parade but what about birth control?”

  “Oh. Shit.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That would be exceedingly bad.”

  “Happy to hear you say it.”

  She laughed and snuggled up under my chin. “Aw, Baby, don't you want a little Chris junior running around? Just think how beautiful my baby with him would be.”

  She teased and tried to playfully irritate me but my reaction shocked us both. My penis swelled like a balloon, and fast. I was already half-mast. By the time she finished speaking I was rock hard. We stared at my dick, bewildered.

  “Honey? David?”

  “Fuck if I know, Love. I'm as surprised as you are.”

  She kept her eyes on my erection as she changed from curiosity to want.

  I heard her murmur, “What is it about the big ones?” before wrapping her fingers around my shaft and starting a slow stroke. She looked at my penis like it was the first she'd seen. She aimed me straight up.

  “You're lovely.”

  “Thank you.”

  She held her other hand flat about four inches above the head. “Chris comes to about here.” She opened her grip around my shaft wider and wider, then judged the distance until she had it just right. “And he's about that much thicker.”

  “You like that about him.” I was a hot dog inside a pipe.

  “I really do. I've been with very few men; you were easily the biggest. I thought you were probably as big as they got. I love these things. They cast a spell on me. Seriously, David, his mesmerized me. Cocks are the ultimate masculine object. A woman and her body seem to all flow together but a man and his penis seem like two separate things; each needs to be judged on its own merits.”

  I chuckled.

  “Maybe it's just me. Maybe other women don't see things the same way I do. I don't care. All I know is Chris opened my eyes. Chris elevated things to a whole new level.”

  She'd been rhythmically stroking me as she spoke so I adjusted my hips to make it easier to orgasm. She realized what I did and stopped.

  “No you don't, mister. No orgasm for you. You have to save it for tomorrow night. After Chris leaves I'm going to need my handsome husband to ravage me.”

  “I can do both; cumming now and cumming then.”

  “Ravage. I want you a little crazy.” She lay my penis down on my belly.

  I grumbled and she kissed my balls.

  Her talk about size and having Chris's baby had me churning inside and intensely turned-on but I felt strange saying so. Do Ray and Janet have conversations like this? I made a mental note to call Ray after tomorrow. I figured I'd most likely need some kind of therapy.

&
nbsp; I was useless at work the next day. Tiff and I exchanged a few boring texts about groceries and bills and then just after lunch I received one that said she left work early and heading home to get ready. Her last text said she'd buy condoms, which I had already forgotten again, and reminded me to get in my hiding spot early. I got nothing done. Basically I sat and stared at the clock for five hours. Just before I left work I got a text from her that said she was on her way to the restaurant. Attached to the text was a picture of her pussy, shaved as smooth as a cue ball. I was stiff on the elevator ride down.

  The house smelled of perfume and lotion and held the humidity from her recent hot shower. I wandered through our empty home and tried to hold back the rising tide of adrenaline. This was madness. The corner of a rug was flipped and knew she'd been hurrying for him. On the bathroom mirror was a tiny mark of mascara and I knew she'd looked her best for him. Every little detail drove me crazy.

  On a hunch I went to her nightstand and opened the drawer. Two black square foil packets with the word, Magnum, in gold, written from corner to corner, right on top of her copy of A people's history of the United States, by Howard Zinn.

  This was really happening. I checked on my spot in the closet and tried to figure out what to do until she got home. In the trash I found tags from the new items she'd purchased for tonight. I looked them up on-line. Tiffany was out right now in a sheer rose long sleeved top, black lace push-up bra, extra short ruby mini-skirt and black stiletto pumps with red bottoms. In the den I poured a whiskey and finished it in two gulps.

  Thirty minutes later I sent a text because a husband in Europe would. I asked how her night went and if she was having fun. I asked if anything had happened yet. She did not answer. I changed into slippers, baggy sweat pants, and a loose T-shirt.

  A little after seven I heard our automatic garage door start to lift. So early! They must have skipped dessert. They probably didn't finish dinner. I took time to glance around one last time but I'd been careful. I quickly settled myself into my hidden throne.