Josh forced himself to wake up. He was sweating, and blood pounded in his eras until the air around him seemed to be tingling.
He looked down, and was surprised to see a moving lump, the size of a head. He felt the warmth of Rachel's mouth on his cock, enfolding him in her wetness. He closed his eyes and looked at the ceiling, basking in the sensation of her frisky tongue, her tight throat enclosing him...
But wait. It was going nowhere again. Only making things worse.
He tossed the covers away and there she was, her hand clamped around his cock and her mouth moving up and down the length of his shaft.
He reached out to put his hand on the back of her head, an impulse that tipped him off before he even did it – he was not that kind of guy, it always felt a little sleazy. So he knew he was still dreaming.
He stared at his wife's mouth on his cock and knew he should wake up. A blowjob in a dream could never end.
Then Rachel released him from her mouth, and lifted her head. Xavier was again in the scene, kneeling next to her on the bed, and she abandoned Josh for him. She opened her mouth and took him inside of her again.
Josh stared as she took him in and out of her mouth. She looked up to meet Xavier's eyes. She let him grasp her fine blond hair and push her down, down, down onto his cock until her lips grazed his pubic bone.
Then he released her, and she gasped for air and licked her lips. With a serrated smile she turned to Josh and placed one hand on his cock. The other, she kept wrapped around Xavier's, drawing it in languid strokes from the fat base of his dick to his blunt head, massaging the nub of it with her palm before going back down to the base. She moved her head back toward Josh's aching cock.
Josh felt his wife's lips on his balls. The heat of her mouth burned into him, and he opened his mouth to scream in pleasure. No sound came out.
In the dream, Xavier's big cock erupted. He gushed what seemed like gallons of cum, a seemingly unending stream. The ropes of cum fell on Rachel's back, and then she turned to capture his spurting seed in her mouth. The creamy white flood spilled down her neck, covered her tits, and leaked. It splattered across her face, into her hair, all over her face until she was sticky and shiny with Xavier's cum.
She kept her hand on Josh's cock as she did this, stroking him fiercely. But the release never came for Josh. His cock was still hard and aching. He could only watch, pained, as more and more cum covered his wife, and she smiled and let it fall into her mouth and across her face.
He sat up, breaking with his dream immediately.
He had sweat into the sheets; they were soaked through.
He looked around the room, absorbing the details that are the sure tell-tales of reality. A reflection in the mirror, accurate down to his graying hair. Light, coming from a source outside the window. He looked at his feet, which never seemed to be a thing he could imagine in a dream.
He was really awake.
The pain in his cock was still throbbing mercilessly. His heart was beating as though he had gone on a bender the night before.
He looked to his left. Rachel was in bed now, asleep, but she was stirring.
His cock had made a tent of the sheets at his crotch.
The ache in his cock had been the one true thing about his dream. There was no doubt of that. He pushed the covers aside and reached down to touch himself: the tip of his dick was wet with precum.
He stared at it, almost disbelieving reality at this point. How long had it been since he had been this turned on? Since his cock had been this hard, and his balls had felt so squeezed?
It was both terrifying and bit ego-boosting. But he was probably still dreaming. He had to be.
He slid down and onto his side, facing Rachel.
He slid his hand beneath the covers, and tugged at them gently, exposing her shoulders, and then her breasts. She was wearing a light cami-like shirt and some silky panties. He pulled the sheet down further, sliding it off of her body.
She made a sound and reached for the sheet.
Josh slid his hand over her smooth side and down along her flat stomach. He pressed his nose into her neck, and inhaled her scent. In the morning she smelled most like herself, from sleeping buried beneath the covers and sweating lightly. His fingertips brushed along the hem of her panties. The rough lace tickled the pads of his fingertips. Rachel stirred, but she did not move away from him. He was sure he could see a faint smile on her lips, so he moved his hand along the fabric. Beneath the lace, he could feel where the downy hair of her neatly trimmed bush began. He worked his fingers into the fold of her thigh, and dug to get his fingertips under the material.
His own urgency was growing, and the sound of Rachel moaning in his dream was still fresh in his mind. It echoed in his ears as he pulled gently on her thigh to spread her legs just a little, and his cock pulsed against her.
She opened her eyes, and it was at that moment that things could go either way. After his dream, though, Josh was in no mood to have Rachel wriggle away from him or blow him off. He pushed her with the hand between her legs so that she rolled toward him, and at the same time he moved his fingers up, upward to where he was pleased to find her slit slightly wet.
A look of mild surprise crossed Rachel's face. He knew it was because he wasn't ordinarily so forward, so eager. His fingers moved to her clit and with his eyes he told her to stay as she was. He could feel that he was conveying something different to his wife, and it held her motionless where she was. When he pried her legs apart to get better access to her cunt, she simply fell open for him.
He could feel her body responding to him. Her juices welled up quickly and coated his fingers as he stroked her clit. Her eyes were on his and they half-closed in pleasure as he pressed her button a little harder, and swept some of her hot moisture up to swirl the pad of his forefinger over the raw center of her clit.
The images from his dream seemed to come back to life: his wife's legs spread beneath the powerful blackness of her cameraman's body. Her mouth pried open to an obscene hole by his thick cock. Josh was suddenly impatient, and he threw the covers off and rose up on his knees. He jerked Rachel's panties away, down her legs, and threw them on the floor.
Her face registered more surprise, but she said nothing. A smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Her gaze swept over his body and rested on his cock, and Josh's member swelled even more, if it was possible. They had been married for almost seven years now, and it was not often that his wife looked at his cock anymore.
But in his mind, he imagined that she was looking at Xavier's cock. How would her face change for him? Would she be afraid of its power, its girth, its length?
As he moved toward her, she spread her legs open for him. He slid into her easily. She was wet and unusually hot, and a moan escaped his mouth as her flesh enclosed his cock.
She lifted her thighs and wrapped her legs around him. He felt the familiar weight of her soft heels on his lower back. Her mouth opened, and her eyes closed.
Josh let himself indulge in the fantasy that she might be lost in her own dreams from the night before. Similar dreams. Or perhaps in her dream Xavier spread her legs open and pulled the lips of her pussy apart to better access her swollen clit with his tongue...
Josh realized he was slamming himself into his wife, fucking her so hard their skin was slapping together. He opened his eyes and saw that hers were still closed. Her nails dug into his back and he felt the pressure of her thighs on his ribs and against his lower back. She writhed beneath him as she came. Her pussy seemed to burst around him, hot and sticky-wet. He watched a flush of color streak up her cheeks, and felt her body almost deflate as the tension left her.
And then, he let himself go. He looked at her lips as he thrust himself deep inside of her, imagining, the whole time, that they were stretched around a veined black cock so large she could barely breathe.
6: DAYDREAM
Xavier was not at work for two days, which set Rachel to thinking and over-thinking. She ha
d bouts of having to lock her phone in her car to keep from calling him, to find out where he was.
After all, she reasoned, this was nothing. He had told her so. It was the internet, being what the internet was: stupid and full of unrealistic, childish dreams of sex.
But Xavier's absence worried her.
Was it worry, though? Just worry? If she were to be honest with herself, there was an element of longing, wasn't there?
She spent a day justifying the feeling to herself as stemming from her annoyance with Harry, who had all sorts of annoying ticks and was a bad driver.
She knew, though, that it wasn't truthful to blame what she was feeling on Harry. She knew she wanted Xavier back not because she wanted to make sure everything was 'cool,' - that was only part of it – but because she wanted to see him.
Secretly, she enjoyed thinking about the ideas “the internet” had come up with. She liked entertaining the idea that Xavier's friendliness had something more behind it.
She ate lunch in the van the second day he was out. It was a nice day and she didn't feel like going through the rigmarole of getting into the office, just to come back out thirty minutes later. Harry had hurried in, after divulging too much information about his bathroom needs, leaving her alone. She ate a bag of carrots and leaned back against the headrest. She closed her eyes.
She just went for it. There was little flutter of guilt, as she stepped off into her fantasy. She was married. It wasn't right to think about another man, to know you were about to start thinking about him, deliberately, as a pleasurable activity.
But then again, it was also just fantasy.
Surely Josh watched porn now and again.
What was the difference?
Besides, her fantasy was mild. It began with Xavier touching her knee. They exchanged looks.
His hand moved up from her knee, up to her thigh. She could almost feel the sensation of his fingers against her skin, and the surge of arousal that would snake up her inner thigh and settle in her pelvis.
“I'm married,” she whispered, and Xavier said nothing. He just kept moving his hand up, between her legs, until his fingers brushed over her panties...
She rewound this part, started back at his eyes when she told him she was married. His fingers traveled up, up, to where he found her without any panties on. His fingers dipped into her pussy, and they slid in easily because she was craving his touch so much.
Then she reached over, and did what she had wanted to do for so long: she unbuckled his pants and pulled on the zipper...
They were sitting. It would be easier if they were standing. How would they get there?
Rachel frowned. She moved the characters in her fantasy to the hallway of the office. She walked down the hallway and suddenly he reached out and pulled her into a closet.
“I'm married,” she whispered, her hands on his chest. His muscles were hard under her palms, he was just as strong as she imagined he was. His eyes held her and conveyed that he wouldn't accept this as a “no.” He slid his hands down her body, and she did what she had wanted to do for such a long time. She lowered the zipper of his pants, and dipped her hand into the warmth between his legs.
Her hand found his cock, and it was everything she had imagined it would be: it was smooth against her hand. Hot. So thick it was hard to close her hand around it. It thumped in her hand with desire. She stroked it and it glided beneath her skin.
She dropped to her knees, so she could see it. She held it and stroked the length of it for a moment, just to look at it. Dark, darker than his skin. Beautifully shaped, almost like a carving.
She opened her mouth, and pushed him inside of her. She had to stretch wide. She felt him between her lips, and her jaw began to ache as he went in further, further. Now he was in her throat, and she was filled up completely, pleasuring him. He placed his hand on the back of her head and pushed her against him, forcing himself further down her throat -
“Rachel!” A tap on the window.
She was pulled from her fantasy with a jerk. Harry was outside her window, tapping on the bottom half of it. She was instantly annoyed.
Harry held up a hand and pointed across the parking lot. He had a greasy bag in his claw. “We have to take that van,” he said. “Marisa needs this one because of some equipment issue.”
“What equipment issue?!” Rachel snapped. She didn't care, and she knew she was being unreasonable, but she was irritated as hell for being drawn out of her fantasy.
As she moved to slide out of the passenger seat, she felt a slickness between her legs. She was incredibly wet, and she ached between her legs.
“Give me a minute,” she snapped at Harry. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
She crossed the parking lot, unable to believe what she was about to do. But the craving she had was distracting her. She wouldn't be able to think about anything if she didn't get some relief. She would spend her whole afternoon thinking about her cameraman's luscious black cock.
Imagined luscious black cock, she corrected herself.
She ran up the stairs to the second floor, where there was a bathroom outside of security checks that no one used. She locked the outside door, and the thought that it seemed a little reckless occurred to her, but she pushed it out of her mind. She was aching now. She couldn’t remember being so turned on an eternity. She locked herself in a stall and leaned her left hand against the wall. She would ordinarily never have done such a thing in a public restroom, but she was beyond reason, now.
She pushed her hand between the tight waist of her black skirt and her torso. The fabric had only a little give, but there was something too seedy about unzipping it. Her fingers moved between her panties and her skin, and she was surprised by how wet she was. Her fingers slid between the folds of her skin easily, and she found her engorged clit.
She parted her legs a little more, and closed her eyes. She tried to pull herself back into her daydream, right where she left off: the feeling of Xavier's cock in her mouth, the unexpected silkiness of his shaft, the weight of his hand against the back of her head. She opened her mouth, enjoying the idea of mimicking her fantasy as she rubbed her clit quickly, right on the sensitive bud in its center.
In her fantasy, she tipped her head down and to the side, to lick Xavier's balls, and feel him shudder with pleasure.
She sucked in her breath as her finger stroked her over the edge. Her orgasm was violent, and it shook her all at once. She leaned against the door of the stall and tried to calm herself. Her fingers were swimming in her cum now, and her wrist hurt from the awkward angle she had shoved it in her skirt.
With her ears ringing, she stepped backwards and sat down on the toilet, as though to pee. Her panties were soaked. She felt dizzy.
What was she doing?
The absurdity of what she had just done hit her suddenly. It was the middle of the day. She was married. She was masturbating to the fantasy of sucking her coworker's cock, which wasn't even a fantasy (sucking cock) that she normally entertained. Her underwear were soaked through with her own excitement.
What the fuck was she doing?
7: PROTEST
Rachel cleaned herself up the best she could and went back out to the new van, where Harry was waiting in the driver's seat with the window down and terrible death metal music blaring. He was shaking his head and his unwashed mop of hair with wild abandon. Rachel sighed and opened the passenger door.
Harry almost immediately turned down the music. “You're on that other story now,” he said. He looked her up and down, and Rachel felt herself burning up. Did he know what she had just been doing? Could he tell?
Oh dear god. He couldn't smell her, could he?
Harry smiled. “It's a real story,” he said, winking. “And your love interest is going with you.”
Rachel stood looking at him, with no idea how to respond. The first half of his sentence had actually seemed like genuinely friendly comment, but the second had not.
That's how
it was with Harry.
Rachel closed the door and looked back at the other van. “Thanks,” she muttered, distractedly. Something was bothering her, and it wasn't until she was halfway across the parking lot that she realized what it was: Harry had evidently seen the fanpage, or talked to someone who had.
Which meant Harry was some kind of pervert who stalked her, or that the entire station was talking about her and Xavier.
“God,” she said. She wanted to be purely annoyed. She should be purely annoyed.
But she knew there was something inside of her that very naughtily liked the video.
She liked the idea of Xavier.
She liked the idea of his cock...
“God,” she repeated.
She crossed the parking lot in a daze. Halfway to the van the driver tooted a welcome song at her.
Xavier.
She couldn't see him, with the glare of the sun on the windshield, but she knew it was him.
She also knew that her breath quickened, and her chest seemed to fill with a swarm of insects.
She opened the door.
Xavier smiled at her.
Her head whirled, and she stood there stupidly.
“You coming? Come on, chop chop, we have to beat these protesters. Get on the phone with Arthur, he was looking for you.” Xavier tossed a phone in her direction.
Rachel hopped into the van, in a daze.
She thought of her underwear, soaked through with the excitement of her naughty fantasies. She wondered if Xavier would smell her, and a forceful blush crept up her cheek.
She looked down at her skirt, making sure there was no evidence of what she had been doing. It hit her suddenly that she had just locked herself in a work bathroom to masturbate in the middle of the day, and that she was sitting next to the man she had thought about while she did it, hit her suddenly. She flushed again.
“You okay?” Xavier said.
“What? I...yeah...I'm fine. Why do you ask? It's just hot.” She fumbled with the air conditioning and turned it on to her face to emphasize her point. “Where have you been?” she said, to change the subject.
Human Interest: A Lead-In To Wife Watching Page 5
