I sat at my office desk staring at the manila folder in my hands. I knew what the contents were. I had just received an oral report from William, the private detective I'd hired. He'd just confirmed my worst suspicions about my wife's sluttish behavior. I thanked him and wrote out a check for his expensive services and walked him to the door.
I couldn't bring myself to look at the pictures just yet. I sat back, reflecting on when it all began.
Becky, my wife, is a nurse in a western suburban hospital. My name is Jim and I work as a graphics designer for an advertising agency in Chicago. We are a young 30's couple who were finally able to move from a starter house into the house of our dreams. It was sold to us at a greatly reduced price because the owners were getting a divorce and needed to sell it quickly. The terms of the contract, however, allowed them three months to move their things out.
Meanwhile we'd easily sold our starter home to a young couple eager to begin their lives. Therefore, we needed a place to live in the interim, but every apartment we looked at required signing a one-year's lease.
Our real estate lady said she knew of a place we might try. She said it wasn't the newest place, and it bordered the bad section of town, but the rental could be on a month-to-month basis. We talked it over and decided we could live anywhere for three months.
When we entered the rental office, a bell tinkled announcing our arrival. No one was at the secretary's desk when we entered. "Odd," I thought.
"Perhaps they are at lunch," my wife said.
"Becky, it's two o'clock. I don't think they'd be at lunch this late," I said.
Just then, a cute blond came into the room from an adjoining office. She appeared to be about 20 years old with the captivating figure of a young woman who enjoys working out. She was adjusting her skirt as she shut the door and reached up to rearrange her hairdo. Apparently, she hadn't noticed that her blouse needed to be tucked in at the back, and it was wrinkled in front. She was braless and it was evident that someone had been caressing her petite breasts.
I mentally chuckled. It was apparent why she had been out of the office. Just the thought of someone exploring her gorgeous young body and, perhaps, fucking her gave me the beginnings of an erection.
She pulled herself together and stuck her hand out.
"Hi, I'm Sandy. How may I help you?"
"We were wondering if you have an apartment we could rent for three months," I said.
She told us they had a two bedroom available, but that it wouldn't be ready for two days while they cleaned and painted. I assured her that it would fit our plans so we filled out the contract papers. When we finished with them, she smiled and mentioned that the owner likes to meet all new clients. She walked us to the office door from where she'd entered and knocked. A deep voice said, "Come in."
As we entered, the man behind the desk stood up. Sandy explained the situation and introduced us. His handshake was firm and his gaze penetrating. I was somewhat shocked. I recognized the owner. His name was Maurice Jones. He was approximately our age, tall, handsome and athletic looking. Maurice was one of the most successful black entrepreneurs in our city, and had recently been featured in the Chicago Tribune as one of the city's most eligible bachelors. He was enormously wealthy after having heavily invested in real estate on the near south side which had later become fashionable for upwardly mobile whites.
After a bit of small talk, he asked if we'd like to see our apartment.
"That won't be necessary," I said.
But Becky spoke up, "Yes, I'd love to see the apartment. Could we please see it?"
He briefly stared into her eyes; it seemed like an electrical spark arced between them.
"Not only can you see the apartment, Mrs. Wolf, I'll show it to you myself. I need to stop by my apartment, anyway, to pick up something."
I was surprised. "Do you live in the building, too?" I asked.
"For the time being," he said. "My house is being remodeled and I'm allergic to all the dust and I hate all the noise."
He insisted that we allow him to drive us. He had a beautifully restored green Jaguar XK-J with expensive leather seats and wood dash paneling. After evaluating seating arrangements, I told Becky to sit in front. From the back seat, I took appraisal of my wife seeing her with fresh eyes.
She complemented the car so well. She had long, curly red hair, natural eye brows, long lashes and beautiful facial features. A tall woman, she was wearing black high heels which enhanced her long legs. She wore a black mini-skirt and a tight-fitting white blouse which highlighted her narrow waist and revealed her full breasts. Childless, her figure was still voluptuous. Several times, I noticed Maurice looking at my wife's crossed limbs.
I felt removed, like I was viewing the scene through the lens of a camera. They truly made an attractive couple. Their eyes danced; their conversation sparkled; and their gestures were animated. Becky obviously was charmed. Her laughter punctuated his comments.
After viewing the apartment and visiting for awhile, Maurice picked up a briefcase from his apartment and brought us back to our car. We shook hands and thanked him for the personal service.
"You'll have to come to my place one night for dinner after you get settled in," he said.
We gratefully accepted and returned home to sort our things, some temporarily to go into storage.
We saw little of Maurice the first few weeks. He was very busy and our time seemed to be occupied with many activities as well. We loved the apartment, except for the fact that it was directly below Maurice's. Frequently, we were kept awake with the banging of the headboard and the squeaking of his bed. Screams of passionate delight penetrated through the floor. My wife had never before sought sex so frequently, for which I was extremely grateful to him.
When summertime rolled around, Maurice was more frequently around. The apartment had a beautiful swimming pool which he often used. We noticed that as many as two or three times a day on weekends, he would leave the pool area in the company of a young woman-many of them were female tenants.
One day after he entered his apartment with a particularly gorgeous blond, Becky said she needed to go back for some suntan lotion. She was gone for quite awhile and I had to take a pee, so I returned to our apartment. When I entered, I heard the antics above me going full blast. As I walked back toward the bathroom, I heard moaning sounds from our bedroom. When I looked in, I saw my wife with her hand inside her swim trunks furiously masturbating. It became obvious to me that she was fantasizing about Maurice.
I stepped in and crawled on the bed toward her. She quickly pulled her hand away. I told her how exciting it was for me to watch her. I tugged at her swim trunks, and she held on to them.
"Please," I said.
"Kiss me," she said.
I frantically kissed her full lips and groped her large breasts.
"Oh, God! Please eat my pussy. Lick my clit. Suck my juices," she implored.
Her clit was extremely enlarged, her labia folds were swollen and her pussy was the wettest it'd been in a long time. The musky smell of her pussy heightened my arousal creating an erection that felt like it would burst. I entered her wet pussy and listened to the cacophony from above likening the rocking of the bedsprings to the rhythm of a drum.
I began matching Maurice stroke for stroke. Becky's eyes were tightly closed, her breathing rapid and irregular. Her hips bucked in sync with my thrusts. As we heard the strokes above us gain in rapidity, so did ours. My penis went deep, withdrew, and began the onslaught of her pussy anew. Her juices were literally flying out covering my balls and spreading to her hips, down her ass.
We were so in tune with him that when he climaxed, so did we. I buried my cock deep and squirted my copious sperm into her enlarged canal again and again. I held it in tightly while frantically kissing her, gasping for air. Our faces were so enmeshed that it hurt. The passion was so intense we couldn't get enough of each other.
Slowly, we came down. I kissed her once again tenderly, lovingly, kissing her neck, down to her breasts soaked in our sweat. I continued down, down, down to explore the jungle of her bright red bush. Softly, I kissed her clit, sucked one, then the other labia fold into my mouth. The smell of our commingled juices was strikingly intense. I moved her legs apart, and back. I put my face full in the middle of her gaping hole which now had copious amounts of cum dripping down. I stuck my tongue in and lapped the juices into my mouth.
I went back to her sweet mouth. "Kiss me, share our cum with me," she pleaded.
We kissed, fervently passing the cum between us. Finally, she passionately kissed me, and then swallowed it all.
I kissed down the length of her torso to again capture some of the sweet nectar for myself. I licked and sucked, swallowing it as if I were possessed. My face was so wet! We kissed again, and then laid together, holding each other gently in our arms.
Something deeper than having intercourse had just transpired. I felt a need to understand, to clarify it-but, at the same time, I feared the discovery of what it was.
That evening, there was a knock on the door. I answered the door and discovered it was Maurice who had stopped by to invite us to a dinner party he was having the next weekend. We agreed to come.
Becky bought a sensational new outfit for the occasion and bought me some expensive casual clothes to wear. During the evening, I had the same out-of-body experience I'd had the first day we'd been in his car as I watched the interaction between them and observed their chemistry.
It wasn't insulting to me to watch their behavior, for the sexual tension was unintentional-and it was so natural that I'm sure if I'd mentioned it to either of them, they would have been surprised I would even think it.
About a month after this evening, I was sent to San Francisco for a week-long graphics workshop. At the end of the week, I decided to come early as the content was old-hat to me.