Brett

 

Seeing my wife like that, exposed for another man’s eyes with her fingers playing with the pretty little pussy I knew so well, was enough to boil the blood in my veins. My forehead was tight and tense, my hair slick with sweat gathering from the pressure of staying still, but still I was swollen hard as a fucking bullock.

She was stunning. Breath-taking in the dirty black lace that sonofabitch had chosen for her.

Her nervousness was spellbinding and her excitement was all real. I knew the raspy pattern of her breath as she peaked, the tightness in her shoulders as her fingers worked their magic.

It took everything in me not to charge across that shitty red line and take her as my own, the way I should do, the way we were born to do.

I gripped the armrests with white knuckles as she relaxed in the aftermath, dreading what was coming when the prick decided to make his move. But he didn’t. He didn’t move a fucking muscle, just sat there as though he owned the fucking place, which I guess he did tonight, watching my wife unfurl with a clipped smile on that smug bastard face of his.

“Shit,” my wife breathed, laughing with a ghost of a giggle, her chest rising and falling as she leaned back on her arms, her stiff nipples on show, her legs still folded underneath her and those crazy high heels jutting out like lethal spikes against the mattress.

She should be looking at me, but I was almost glad she wasn’t. I was scared of the unspoken words that would pass between us, of her realising that I was seething in my seat and filling up with a torrent of regret that would steal her ease for the rest of the night.

And it would be a long fucking night.

Even more than I wanted peace for myself, I wanted peace for her.

I chanced a glance at the asshole a few feet away. His eyes were fixed on Grace’s. His attention all for her.

I could have stormed him with enough of a surprise to break his neck before he’d even got his guard up. It was tempting.

So was the hard on in my pants, begging me to thrust my seedy hand down deep and jerk myself into a frenzy.

“A beautiful performance,” the cunt said, and I could almost imagine him giving her a round of applause.

It brought her to her senses enough for her shoulders to tense, the colour in her cheeks blooming.

I expected that would be the moment he made his move, but still nothing. His legs stayed easy, his body relaxed, like he had all the time in the world. Still, the night was young. Maybe his stamina wasn’t up to a full nine hours. I could fucking hope.

I could see Grace contemplating what was next, knowing well the way she pinned her lip between her teeth, pondering not slutty. Still, it was horny as fuck.

In those moments I’d usually brush her pretty mouth with my thumb and pull her in for a kiss. But not tonight.

“What next?” she asked him, breaking the silence with nothing short of cute awkwardness.

He made her wait before he answered, and I felt the pause just as hard.

“You keep going,” he told her. “Relax. Lay back. Find your magic all over again.”

Her smile was as natural as her orgasm, bracing for another giggle as she stared straight over at him.

“I can’t, um… not right away…”

“So take your time,” he said, and he meant it.

She kicked off her heels and dumped them on the far side of the bed as she adjusted herself to a more comfortable position. I could see how clammy her thighs were as she dropped onto her back and closed her eyes, her legs spread gently open and bent at the knee.

Her hands lay flat on her stomach at first, moving with her breaths before she ventured to slip them down lower. I knew her body almost as well as I knew mine. Knew how she shuddered when her clit was tender, holding back from more until she could take it, but tonight was different. It had to be.

I watched her eyes tighten at the intensity as she dared to brush her fingers over the lace of her thong. Her other hand was gentle as she grazed her exposed tits, perky nipples pointing at the ceiling and craving round two, even if her pussy protested.

“I can’t believe you’re seeing me like this,” she whispered, and it smarted that her words were all for him.

“Show me what feels good,” he said in that satin fucking voice, urging her on with such calm fucking purpose that I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of him.

We must have made it through the best part of a full hour by the time she found her groove for a second time round. It irked me to realise that we never usually left it this long, moving straight from her breathy climax onto different games, games involving her pretty mouth around my dick, or me slamming balls deep inside her, or grinding flesh on flesh, mouth on mouth, more, more, fucking more.

The cunt was skilled and practiced, just as I’d feared in that pit of paranoia in the back of my mind. He knew what he was doing, barely breaking a sweat as he watched her find another frantic rhythm.

I hated how this part of Grace was unfamiliar to me, even after years at her side. Her body movements were known to me, but the tender rapture on her sweet face at the forced patience imposed by a stranger was edged with something I didn’t know so well.

My wife wasn’t a screamer. She didn’t wail and hiss and curse in the bedroom, not even when I ploughed her hard enough to hiss myself. She was reserved in her outbursts, a gentle flower blooming and bursting, all natural in her whimpers and rasps, just understated.

But not now. Not on round two.

Her body couldn’t hold back the shudders as she sought skin on skin and plunged her needy fingers inside her knickers. I could hear the wetness above breaths that turned to low rasping moans, her thighs falling open to give that dirty cunt a better view of his purchase.

“This is… oh fuck…” she whimpered, and my balls tightened like volcanic rocks threatening to fucking explode.

“That’s good,” he said right back at her. “Show me.”

I knew her fingers were dipping inside her pussy without looking. My eyes were firmly on her open mouth as she tipped her head back and spread those thighs even wider, her heels gripping the plastic sheeting underneath her and angling her higher.

Both hands were between her legs, one pushing fingers in deep while the other circled that clit in a blur of motion that made my mouth water. I couldn’t resist looking at him, his eyes greedy on the lace stretched tight across her knuckles.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered again, and her whole body shunted back and forth, teeth gritting tight as she grunted low.

My Grace fucking grunted, like she was taking hard fucking cock, only she wasn’t. She was taking two fingers at best, lapping up the thrill of two pairs of ravenous eyes on that gorgeous fucking body of hers.

“Good girl,” he told her, and her reaction was explosive. Her body was rigid, back arched as she buckled under her frantic fingers, squelching in wetness as she reached the edge of a second orgasm, so much fucking harder than the first.

She liked it.

She fucking liked it.

And worse than that, so did I.

I couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop my throbbing dick threatening to blow in my fucking pants.

I was transfixed as she murmured and wriggled, and she was lost to both of us, lost to everything but the sensation of those sweet fingers down her knickers.

Until he moved.

Oh fuck, how he fucking moved. Like a cat, stealthy and slick with perfect fucking timing.

I couldn’t have timed it better my fucking self.

He was fully clothed as he climbed up onto the mattress alongside her, positioning himself at her side, his long fucking legs draping down next to hers as she tipped her face to stare up at him.

She couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to, her body was long gone to nerves or reason. Her whimpers were right at him, her mouth open as his lowered to press against her bare shoulder. His fingers were big against her pretty pale tits as he pinched one of those hard nubs and flicked his wrist in the same way she’d done earlier.

And it was enough.

Fuck, how it was enough.

One single touch had her reeling senseless, her fingers bucking in her knickers as his hand slid down and pressed on top.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “Now kiss me like you want me.”

She shuddered, holding her breath as the shock of the second wave ripped through her body. It was brutal in its perfection, her feet scrabbling as she reached her peak.

Even in her madness she managed to look across at me before she acknowledged his request.

Her eyes were hungry and wide, and she wanted him.

Fuck, she fucking wanted him, she just wanted me to say it was okay.

A nod was all it took, barely more than a tip of my head was all that I could manage. Her face turned to his in a heartbeat, mouth parting as he came in for the kiss.

She kissed him like she wanted him, because she fucking did. I watched my wife kiss another man with a pain like I’d never felt, right in my gut as my fucking cock kept on throbbing.

And I couldn’t blame her, not for a moment in the madness. Not for one single breath as I dared to palm my dick through my own trousers.

Because as much as I hated the man on the bed with my woman, part of me wanted it too.