Watch ME

Transcript

Lola? Lola? Where was she? My shouts were muddled by the cacophony of the party, but they were certainly audible.

I wandered through the backyard looking for her. From around the fire pit were a crowd of friends and acquaintances and friends of friends were warming their hands to the grill, where someone's boyfriend was wowing everyone with their barbecue skills. What a time for her to disappear.

We needed ice, desperately, and she had said that to her new friends, the guy from her new job would bring her a large cooler with her several bags of the stuff. Now, neither one of them could be found, and while I was certainly enjoying the warm tipsy glow that was spreading throughout the party, I found myself increasingly mystified, if not irritated, at my wife's sudden disappearance. I've seen Lola anywhere, I asked another co-worker of hers, as I passed through the kitchen where a group gathered doing shots and, to my surprise, dancing the limbo with the kitchen broom.

Not a sign of her. She was out the front porch a while ago, I think, talking with Sam. Sam, her new best friend.

He seemed to be everywhere she was these days, ever since she had started that job. He had been very welcoming, showing her the ropes. It was good to have a work friend, she had said.

I've been grateful that someone had been so kind and helpful to her. It wasn't easy starting a driving agency like that. The truth was, I hadn't seen my wife that much lately.

I've been busy with my own business, working start-up hours, but it did strike me that, when I did see her, Sam always seemed to be there too. She was happy, that was obvious from the glow in her cheeks and her easy laughter. I was too, I suppose, happy for her and content that we both were able to enjoy our own pursuits.

Then again, perhaps I was just too busy to think much about it. We enjoyed the time we were together. Best friends, still lovers, all good.

Lola. I passed through the living room and poked my head out onto the front porch. Not a sign of her, just like her co-worker had said.

I turned and began to slowly pad up the carpeted stairs, the chatter and clamor of the party receding gradually as I ascended to the second floor landing. I'd just opened my mouth to call for her again when I heard a muffled footstep above me on the third floor, as well as, just barely, other tell-tale sounds. A rustling, a whisper, a breathy gasp.

Lola. My query was silent now, echoing in my head. The din of the party receded further as I proceeded up the second flight of stairs.

I was about halfway up when I saw them. A flash of movement in my peripheral vision caused me to turn to the right, and that's when it all unfolded. A foot, her foot, then another, then calves, then her dress, the sundress with the tiny purple flowers, the one that hugged her calves so deliciously, and then all of her.

And Sam. They were wrapped together like one person in a dim evening light of the spare bedroom, kissing deeply, making out to be sure. She was against the wall, and Sam had his hand under her dress, between her legs.

Her breaths and gasps were a little muffled, explosions puncturing the silence of the room. He was kissing her neck and her breasts now, and in fading light, I could just make out her panties resting around her left ankle. I was frozen on the stairs, transfixed, silent, watching her as if in a dream.

Her face was pale, lips parted in a gasp of pleasure at Sam's touch. I knew instantly that he had slid his fingers inside her. I knew how wet she was just from her expression, as if I was touching her myself.

Her silky softness moving and pulsing around me, her scent filling my head. Her eyes had a distant look that I knew well, and I could tell from the way that she was breathing, short, quiet, whispery breaths, that she was about to come. Even now, I'm shocked by what I experienced in that moment.

I think I knew, even in my shock, that I was supposed to be angry, jealous, enraged even. But I remember instead a kind of quiet surprise that I felt none of these things. I was aware of only one reaction of the scene I had stumbled upon.

Intense, powerful, urgent arousal. I wanted her to come to Sam more than I had wanted anything. I wanted her orgasm pulse against his fingertips.

I wanted her to drench them. I wanted him to take her right there, and with her dress pushed up around her hips, to hear her gasp when Sam enters her from behind. To hear her whispered pleas to him to fuck her, to come inside her.

The pleasure and desire I saw in her face intoxicated me, transported me, quickly got on very hard, my cocks straining against my jeans. A shouted greeting from the party below jolted me back to reality. I retreated several steps, still reeling and trying to make sense of what I had just witnessed.

But aware of the presence of the guests, the need for ice, the possibility of discovery, I turned quickly and slipped quietly back down the stairs. I moved through the rest of the party in a daze, playing the part of a host as if on autopilot. Someone else fetched some ice from the store down the street.

Lola reappeared at some point. So did Sam, a little later. There was lots more drinking, and laughing, and hearty farewells as our guests began to depart.

The crowd dwindled down, finally to just the two of us. We cleaned up a bit, decided to save the rest of the morning and found ourselves alone in the bedroom, tipsy and flushed from the busy night. She still wore the sundress, the same one I had seen her in with him.

I stared at her as she took out her earrings. The memory of seeing her with him causing me to be hyper-aware of the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, the softness of her skin. How many times had she come with him? Images flashed through my head, her panties around her ankle, Sam's hand under her dress, between her legs, her face as she felt his cock throb when he came inside her.

I found myself reaching for her, kissing her with a hunger that surprised both of us. She responded to my kiss with a flirtatious, cheeky knead of her own, as if she were challenging me to satisfy her. I moved my hand under her dress between her legs and slid my finger up the inside of her thighs, her heat and wetness drawing them higher like a magnet.

I let them just barely hover over the crotch of her panties which I knew were drenched without even touching them. When I finally let my fingertips tease lightly over the wet spots, I heard her whispered moan. They were beyond soaked.

Did he fuck her? Did he come inside her? I don't know if my cock has ever been harder than it was that night.

Images kept flowing through my head, his cock hard inside her, his hands on her ass as he slowly moved from behind, her wetness and heat bursting around his cock, his cum dripping into her panties after she had returned to the party, a naughty secret between her legs as she laughed and made small talk with our guests. Did he fuck her? The thought was almost a refrain now.

What was certain was the moist heat pulsing into the soft cotton between her legs. I slid the sopping scrap of fabric down her thighs, turned her around and whispered urgently at her to get on her knees on the bed. She did as she bid and whispered urgently at her to get on her knees on the bed.

She did as she was told. I pushed her sundress up around her hips and unzipped my jeans. When I slid my cock inside her, she was more drenched than I had ever felt.

The insides of her thighs were glazed with arousal, hers, his. I immediately imagined him coming inside her, filling her up. Did he cum inside her? The thought made me hungrier, harder, almost crazed.

I slid one hand back up her and grabbed a handful of her hair. She cried out again and again as I fucked her harder now, her wetness and the thought of his cum inside her, around my cock, making me swell inside her. She turned back to look at me in the eyes for that moment, just for a split second.

I caught a glimpse of an expression on her face that signalled defiance, even triumph. Her pussy contracted around my cock, pushing me to the brink. I'm going to cum, I said gruffly.

The heat of my spunk burst deep inside her and we pulsed into each other for a few moments, both struggling to catch our breath. When I slowly pulled out, it was a thrill to see how much of my cum was dripping out of her swollen slit. Mixed with his, I thought to myself.

Mixed with his? Still semi-hard, the thought rekindled my almost frenzied desire. I had to taste her, with both of us still breathing hard and her dress still pushed up around her hips as she lay on the bed with her knees slightly bent.

I put my face between her thighs and slowly licked up a drizzle of cum, glazing her thigh. She moaned softly, encouraging me. I worked slowly and almost meticulously to lap up each drop that oozed from her pussy.

Glancing up to see an astonished, ecstatic look on her face, she moaned again as my tongue gently lapped and suckled her lips and then at her clits. I was rock hard again, her pussy like a swing ball of wetness and cum and velvety pleasure from fighting me to dive back in. She whispered in my ear, urgently, fuck me.

Fuck me again. She was so aroused now that her wetness dripped on my balls as I fucked her. We fucked with an almost savage need for each other.

I was possessed, as if I was a superhuman, like a goon for hours without coming if I wished. The images kept flashing in my mind's eye, her expression as she came against his hand, her mouth around his hard cock, his seed on her lips. She came again in a wave of fluid.

Cum. I wanted you to cum inside me, she cried out. I slowed down, fucking her more deeply.

She rigged back, grabbed my hard dick and slid it in and out of her and then put her slick head against the small button of her arsehole. Fuck my arse. She gasped in an urgent whisper.

I want you to fuck me in the arse. I pushed the head of my cock slowly inside her. She cried out as soon as I entered, her arse tight and hot around me as I slid it in her.

Her cries got louder and higher pitched as I slowly penetrated deeper. I reached around her hips and put my hand against her wet slit and clit. She placed her own hand over mine, pushing my fingers against her inside her as she continued to moan and cry.

My shaft had slid all the way down inside her arse now and I gently rocked back and forth, sliding just a millimetre with each thrust. Did he fuck her arse, I thought. Did he cum in her arse? For every second an image of his cum on her arsehole after he fucked her in the very same dress she wore now flashed into my head.

I could feel every spasm and every movement she made around my cock. Her cries grew louder and higher pitched. As she grabbed my hand against her slit as she came again, I held on for a second longer and then a hot burst of my cum exploded around my cock inside her arse.

Over a few glasses of wine back in the courtyard a few weeks later, the sun slowly sets. I told her we'd already split most of the bottle of wine. She happened to be wearing that very same sundress, the hem of it resting on her smooth thighs.

I couldn't help but think again what was underneath it and the thrill of what I'd seen that night. You have that look, she said, smiling. You're a million miles away.

Tell me what you're dreaming about. Her smile and her flirtatious curl. It all came tumbling out.

What I'd seen. The kisses. His hand under her dress.

The ecstasy in her face. I told her how when I had entered that night. She had been wetter than I had ever felt her.

I asked her. I had to know if he had fucked her that night. That night of the party.

After the initial shock of hearing my admission that I'd seen her and Sam, she spilled her own deepest desires. She had fucked him, of course. The details were as juicy as I hoped.

How he had made her cum with his hand. How her knees had nearly buckled. How he had pressed his wet fingers against her lips between them so that she could taste herself.

How she had returned downstairs to the party feeling dazed and euphoric. A secret, naughty thrill spreading inside her as the night went on and she could feel his cum dribble into the crotch of her panties. But there was more.

She admitted that she liked to be watched.