“Now seeing that, what would a man think to do to you?” I asked her, standing at her back and looking over her shoulder at our reflection in the mirrored surface of the elevator door.
She shook her head. She swallowed. I was unused to this trembling anxiousness in my wife. Normally, she was so self-assured. We were at ease with one another. But I had lifted the front of her skirt and put her subterfuge on display. She pushed her skirted bottom against my crotch, feeling for a way out.
“Go on. Say it.”
In the mirror, she looked me in the eye. Then looked away.
“Jane,” I said to her. “Such a fresh shave for a sales conference?”
The bell dinged. Before the doors slid open, I skinned her skirt back down. I saw the man who stepped in look her over, his gaze hitching for a moment on her stocking tops. Her bald and pantyless pussy remained our secret. But it hadn’t been meant for me.
When she told me she was going to the conference in Richmond, it was unremarkable. She traveled for work all the time. If she had announced that we were out of butter, or that the electric bill had come in the mail, it would have been barely more routine. What was it then that caught my attention? A slight elevation in her tone of voice, or the timing of the announcement just as she was handing me a cup of coffee, or some other detail so subtle it was below my consciousness. Somehow, I sensed it.
She would spend the night Friday, attend the conference Saturday, and return Sunday. While she was in the bathroom I looked in her travel bag, which was open on the bed. Everything seemed normal. Then I found the thigh high stockings and the pearl necklace rolled into the sleeve of her cardigan.
We had a rule, and we had an arrangement. She was either breaking the rule, or this was part of our arrangement. It all depended on whether she wanted to be caught. I suspected she wanted to be caught. I just had to find the proof.
She always made the trip by train and the train was always late. I could drive down and arrive before her. When she had gone, I looked around the house. She had left the credit card bill, opened and with the word PAID written on it, on the counter. I saw the charges for the train ticket and the hotel. Was this so that I would know where to find her? I looked in her night stand drawer. The stainless steel plug was gone. The silicone lube was gone too. I thought about what this implied. I felt my heart quicken with that peculiar mix of anxiety, jealousy, and lust. My cock swelled in my pants. I got my travel bag out of the closet and started packing.
I arrived at the hotel before the train reached Richmond. I checked in, went to my room, hung my clothes in the closet.
I was anxious that I would not find her. I was anxious that she would see me before I saw her. To ease my nerves, I laid on the bed and jerked off. I had an orgasm while picturing my wife with another man’s cock in her mouth.
I saw a sign indicating that the conference meet-and-greet would take place in the bar from 7pm. I found a table in a back corner. I could see the entrance but anyone entering would be looking toward the bar, not toward me. I ordered a gin and tonic, which is a suitable drink for acts of infidelity.
I saw her enter and walk up to the bar. She was wearing a loose backless silk blouse and a wrap skirt and heels. Her red hair was worn in braid, baring off her lovely neck and shoulders. Her round ass and firm calves attracted the gazes of a couple of other men. I had been keeping my eye on them. Was one of these men going to fuck my wife? I looked at her again. I had never seen this blouse before. I caught a glimpse of the side of her heavy breast in the loose silk. It would present a challenge to any man to keep his eyes above her neck. I found myself waiting for a better peek but I knew that if could see her from the front then she might see me as well. I looked down at my phone and sipped my drink and tried to be patient.
The man with whom she eventually started speaking seemed to know her already when he approached. He leaned against the bar, casual and easygoing. He wore a jacket and tie. He was tall, tanned, athletic. She put her hand on his arm and smiled. He waved to the bartender and ordered drinks for them both. He smiled at her and said something that made her laugh and touch her pearls. When she glanced away, he looked her over. She looked away long enough to allow him a good look. She pulled her shoulders back. She likes to show off. He indulged for a moment, then shifted his gaze away. Our eyes met. He saw that I had seen him looking. He smirked. A shared understanding. He put a hand on her hip. A few minutes later she turned around and left, after placing something on the bar top. He picked it up. Her card key.
The lock hummed and clicked. The door swung open. The man that my wife had been flirting with in the bar came into the room. He saw her on the bed and said, “Well that’s quite a talent to tie yourself up like that.”
“She didn’t tie herself up,” I said. “I did.”
The man was startled. I was sitting in one of the plush chairs by the balcony and he hadn’t seen me at first. But then his expression went from one of surprise to one of wary amusement. I smiled and nodded.
“So what is this?” he asked.
“She’s my wife,” I said.
“I didn’t know she was married.”
“You knew she was married. She never took her ring off.”
He shrugged. He looked at her again. She was on the bed on her knees with her ass up in the air and her wrists cuffed behind her knees. She was naked except for the thigh high stockings and the pearls and the leather wrist cuffs and her wedding ring. Her face was turned toward me, away from the man standing in the doorway. She was watching me patiently.
I stood up and said, “Come on in.” I went to the wet bar and made him a gin and tonic. “I saw you drinking them at the bar, “ I said.
He took the drink and thanked me.
My wife remained silent.
“How long have you known her?” I asked.
“A few months.”
“Fucked her yet?”
“No,” he said.
“Did you know what a slut she is?”
He seemed unsure how to respond. He shook his head.
“She shaved for you. Look at that. For me she leaves a little bush but for you she took it all off like a porn queen.”
We both stood sipping our drinks and admiring the view of her smooth vulva pouting between her stockinged thighs.
I sat on the edge of the bed. My wife smiled at me. I picked up the stainless steel butt plug from the night table and dribbled lube onto it.
“Hold her cheeks open,” I told the man. He set his drink on the nightstand and obliged. The lips of her pussy parted as well, and I could see that she was brimming with wetness. I ran the tip of the plug once around the rim of her ass before pushing it slowly inside. She had a look of determination on her face. She made the quietest moan when the widest part of the plug stretched her. Then it passed inside and she let out a breath. She clenched around it. We looked at her with the jewel glittering in her anus, her damp lips, her stockings and cuffs. Her red glistening mouth. Her red hair in a tight braid. Her ample breasts hanging against the bed. I felt a moment of pride at what a carnal delight she was. I pulled open the mirrored accordion door of the closet to an angle that would let her see herself, cuffed and prepped to be enjoyed.
“My wife is quite a little sex doll isn’t she?” I said.
“Darling,” I said to Jane. “You never answered my question in the elevator.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t remember what you asked.”
“I pulled your skirt up and asked what you thought a man would want to do you.”
“I remember now,” she said.
“I would think a man would want to pull out that plug and put his cock in its place,” she said.
“That’s doesn’t take much imagination,” I told her.
“I don’t just want to imagine it,” she said.
I turned to the man. “Ok. Well what do you want to do to her?”
He looked at me, evaluating the offer. My cock was almost painfully hard. I sipped my gin and tonic and he sipped his and pursed his lips.
“She’ll do anything I tell her to,” I said. “That’s the arrangement, if she wants to fuck someone other than me. You should use her like you paid good money for her.”
He looked uncertain. The boundaries were unclear.
“Do you want to fuck her in the ass?”
“She does have a great ass.”
“Well I didn’t put that plug in just to decorate it.”
He smiled. He finished his drink and set the empty glass on the table. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand on her ass and stroked her down to her thigh. He squeezed her thigh above the stocking and gave it an appreciative jiggle. She perked her bottom slightly. He parted her lips with his thumb and wet it there and grazed her clitoris and she twitched her bottom like a cat.
“What do you like?” he asked her.
“You’re not hearing me,” I said to the man. “Don’t worry about what she wants. You’re not seducing her. I’m going to tell her what to do and she’s going to do it. Watch.”
I stepped closer.
“Jane, dear,” I said to my wife. “Come to the edge of the bed.”
She scooted herself over. I unfastened my belt and took out my cock. She turned her head to the side and opened her mouth for me. I took hold of her braid with one hand close to her scalp, a firm grip. I squeezed her plump breast with the other. The man was watching, transfixed by the sight. I pushed my cock into her mouth. I held it there. She was looking up at me, waiting. I pushed in and out a few times and she wet me with her saliva. I took my cock out of her mouth and let her run her tongue over me, slicking me around the head and down the underside of the shaft. Then I pushed myself back into her mouth and went slowly and firmly down her throat. I felt the spasm of her throat around my cock head. Tears welled in her eyes but she didn’t gag or blink or look away. When I pulled out again she coughed slightly and ropes of thick saliva drooled down my balls and with the head of my cock I spread it across her lips.
“See,” I said to the man. “She’s a pliant little slut.”
Then I proceeded to pin her head against the bed and fuck her mouth until her face was lying in a puddle of drool. I did it roughly so that he would understand how she should be treated.
“If you hold back, she won’t feel appreciated.”
He stepped forward. I tucked my slick cock back into my pants. She looked up at him and licked her lips and opened her lipstick-smeared mouth. He took out his cock. It was thicker and heavier than mine. I felt a pang as she stretched her lips around it. A sort of lustful jealous pride. She was so delicious that of course this man would want her, and of course I was proud that she was mine, and of course I cherished her lustfulness and her abandon that could only ever be truly and fully seen when crossing a boundary, because otherwise what are you abandoning, and of course in expressing that abandon she must leave control of herself and of me and give it to someone else whom neither of us control. I needed to see him make a thorough debauchery of her.
She didn’t look at me. She looked up at him. She goaded him with her eyes and her moans as she worked to take him into her throat. She gagged a little and spit ran down her cheek. Her grabbed her braid with both hands and guided her mouth. I saw her glancing at herself occasionally in the mirror as she sucked his cock. I walked around behind her, enjoying the view. Each time he pressed his cock into the back of her throat, she clenched tight around the plug. He reached back, took her ass in his hand, used his grip to push her face toward him. I was desperately erect watching them.
I made two more drinks and set them on the nightstand. After that, I took hold of her braid and pulled her off of his cock. Her mouth parted from him with a wet pop and a whimper of loss. She looked at me and at him.
“Wasn’t I good?” she asked.
“Oh, Janey,” the man said to her. “You’re amazing.”
Another pang, this time at his diminutive of her name. “She wasn’t asking you,” I said. “She wants permission to be fucked.”
“Oh she’s earned it,” he said. He was idly stroking himself and clearly eager to go on.
“Not yet she hasn’t,” I said. “Jane, get up off the bed.”
With some difficulty, hands still cuffed behind her, she managed it. She lay down from her kneeling position, rolled onto her back, put her feet on the floor, and stood up. She displayed herself proudly. Her lipstick was mostly rubbed away. Her face was wet with spittle. Her eyes were shining.
“Open the drapes,” I said.
She went to the windows and, turning her back so she could pull them with her cuffed hands, opened the drapes wide. The city lights sparkled. The man seemed momentarily embarrassed and tucked his cock away.
“Look at your reflection,” I said.
“What do you see?” I said.
“I see a woman who wants to please her husband.”
“Do you think someone on the street looking up at our window would think that? A woman naked in a hotel room with two men? That she’s a devoted wife?”
“They probably think I’m a prostitute.”
“With pearls on?”
“A high class whore.”
“But no one’s getting paid. You’re here to get fucked by this man, in front of your husband, because it’s what you wanted.”
“And you’re going to make sure I do it right?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Am I being punished?” she asked.
“What would I punish you for?”
“For being an unfaithful slut.”
“Hardly. I just don’t want this man making the mistake of thinking you’re a nice woman having a discreet affair. This is for me to see. And not just me.”
I took my phone out of my pocket, opened the camera, and centered her in the frame. The man’s legs and open fly were visible in the background. I touched the button.
“Want a picture?” I asked the man.
He chuckled. “Oh yeah.”
“What’s your email?”
He told me. I emailed him the photo of my naked wife.
“Go put your tits against the window,” I told her.