Sandy and Fran

I sat there in utter shock as I watched her go into the house. Obviously, I drove home but I have no recollection of doing so. One thing became excruciating obvious: it is one thing to be told that your wife has been screwed by someone else and another to suddenly realize that she is planning to do so. The first is over and done with, a fait accompli, and beyond your control, so you deal with it. You blow up or you just accept it - but it's happened. In the second case, however, nothing has happened - yet! What do you do? Try and stop it? I could wait an hour or so and stop by the party, stay awhile and bring Sandy home. I'd done that before so it wouldn't surprise anyone except, of course, Sandy. How would she react, what would she think of me? Would that seem too possessive? After all my talk of not being jealous would that make me look silly and weak? Was I jealous?

Then, of course, did I want to stop it? I told her to have fun and enjoy herself. I had as much as told her that whatever she decided was ok with me. Maybe she just put her diaphragm in just to be on the safe side, not intending to do anything.

These questions and probably a hundred more jostled each other in my mind as I robotically drove home. Suddenly presented with a reality I just hadn't believed would come to pass, I just didn't know how to react, what to do. However, as I pulled into the garage and got out, I was shocked to discover that my body has involuntarily reacted for me - my cock was as stiff as a board! My mind was in turmoil, deciding what to do, but my subconscious had answered! I still didn't know if I wanted Sandy to be fucked again, but there was no question that I found the possibility to be exciting!

I really was startled, and, I'll admit, a little embarrassed, to find myself reacting that way, because it seemed a bit perverted to be aroused by another man having my wife. However, it was not as if the same thing hadn't happened before and that Sandy and I had both found the aftermath to be tremendously exciting. Hearing her describe, in detail, the things they had done had been rousing as we had enjoyed it together and the subsequent conversing and fantasying had energized us in the weeks since. So, maybe I was just rationalizing to get to where I wanted to be, but I finally admitted to myself that I was actually hoping that something would happen!

However, now that I had decided that I wanted Frank to bring Sandy back home, I was sure that it wouldn't happen. Maybe someone else will be the driver, maybe Frank wasn't even at the party, maybe he was a gentleman and had accepted Sandy's "never again" assertion, maybe...anything! As I sat there pretending to read, I was tense, looking at the clock with its hands that hardly seemed to move. Finally, about 12:30 I quit pretending to read and moved into the darkened study and began an interminable period of waiting for a car to turn into the drive.

The drive was curved so you couldn't see the road from the house except through the trees - large white pine trees that hid the house from passing traffic. The drive ended at the garage door and had a turn-around area for backing out. Right over the garage was the study-library-office, a large room that, as I said before, we had converted from a bedroom. A perfect vantage point for a depraved husband to wait for someone to bring his wife home.

It was weird, sitting there in the dark waiting for a car to turn into the drive. Occasional cars came down the road and I jumped each time, wondering if this was the one I was waiting for. I have never been in a situation remotely like that. I know that I wasn't thinking clearly - I was nervous, anxious, jumpy and conflicted. I knew if a car pulled in and Sandy got out after a moment or two of goodbyes I would be relieved, but disappointed and dissatisfied. On the other hand, if she stayed in the car and, certainly, was engaged in sex, I would be wildly aroused, but all the inchoate negative thoughts that were just below the surface would arise and assail me. I feared that I would gain and lose something either way.

Finally, after an excruciating 45 minutes and several false alarms, a car turned in and slowly came up the driveway. It stopped directly below me and set there, lights on for almost five minutes. I couldn't see into the car at all because of the glare from the headlights, but it seemed obvious that Sandy had received a ride home and was having a conversation with her driver friend, whoever it was. I almost left my observation post and headed for bed, but inertia held me in place a bit longer. Suddenly, to my real surprise by then, the car lights went out!

It took me a moment or so to realize what had happened and a bit longer for my eyes to adjust to the end of the headlight glare. When I finally focused on the windshield below me, I could see surprisingly well because of the security light overhead. It was quite bright, certainly sufficient to see the two people in the car. The angle was such that I couldn't see heads, but, from the neck down to the edge of the seat the car interior was fairly bright. What I saw immediately, was that Sandy was right in the middle and, from her position, I thought that she probably was being kissed. It certainly was clear that whatever reservation she had about being intimate with Frank again had been eliminated. Suddenly, she broke away and removed her coat and sat there in her sweater and skirt.

Driven by an intense curiosity, or prurient interest, I bolted from the study and hurtled downstairs to the kitchen where I grabbed a small pair of binoculars that we used for bird watching on our feeder. Hurrying back upstairs, I frantically focused on the action below. In the short time I was gone, they had changed position and Sandy was turned so that she was facing Frank - I couldn't see their heads, but the position was obvious. The binoculars brought the scene so close that I could see the heavy, twisted weave in Sandy's sweater as well as a man's hand around her back, holding her. I had a very weird feeling as I saw, for the first time with my own eyes, her in an intimate position with another man. Yes, I had heard and reacted to the detailed description of her adulterous relationship with Frank, but that was a story, this was reality!

It seemed that the kissing was prolonged, never going to end, but it probably was my own distorted sense of time - like in a movie wishing that they would "cut to the chase." At length, I saw that his hand which had been moving up and down her back had slipped under her sweater onto her skin. After a short time, she turned and sat up and reached for the bottom of her sweater and just pulled it up over her head and off and lay back across him with her tits completely exposed. They were not uncovered for long, however, as a hand began fondling and squeezing them.

I had the strangest reaction. Since then, I've read a number of stories of "wife watchers," and almost all of them were wildly excited. They usually describe seeing their wives engaged in sex with another man as causing them to have rigid cocks which would cum, almost involuntarily. I had none of that. For me, it was much like watching a porn film, arousing but, not explosively so. Oh, I knew that it was Sandy having her tits felt, but, somehow, I felt divorced from the action, an observer but not personally involved. I suspect that if I had masturbated as I watched I might have reacted more vigorously, but I was too fascinated by the show to do so. I was too busy watching, too busy recording everything in my mind.

In any case, it wasn't long before Frank's hand left her tit and moved down to the hem of her skirt and attempted to go up under it. The skirt was already up to her hose tops, but, evidently, was too tight to work up further. Then, clearly showing that she was an active participant, not an innocent seductee, if there is such a word, Sandy sat up, reached behind her, unfastened and unzipped her skirt. Then she simply raised her bottom up, pulled the skirt off and draped it over the seat back. Then she just lay back against Frank with her feet up on the seat, naked except for her panties, garter belt and hose!

Immediately his hands were all over and under her panties while evidently continuing the kissing. All of this time I, of course, couldn't see their faces which might explain, in part, why I wasn't as personally involved as I might have expected. That suddenly changed.

Just as he had done the first time, Frank suddenly pulled away and opened the door and, letting Sandy lie flat on the seat, got out. As he did so, the interior lights came on and I saw my wife completely illuminated for a few seconds before the door shut. It was a fascinating, if brief, view of her almost naked body. Very shortly afterwards, the flash of light, longer this time, came again as he entered the car from the other side. The car was surprisingly roomy, but it was still somewhat awkward as he scrambled in and knelt in the foot.

In that short-lived bright period, I looked at Sandy's face and saw someone eager, almost lustful, as she welcomed what was coming. As she confirmed later, Frank had said, as he had before, that he wanted to kiss her - meaning her cunt, of course. Last time she had protested, worrying that "he would make her," which, of course, he had. This time there was no protest, no fear of being made, just the anticipation of adulterous intercourse.

Frank reached up and, with Sandy helping by raising her hips, pulled her panties down her thighs and off. I had a completely clear view of her entire body from her cunt hair to her tits as she lay there waiting. The wait wasn't long as Frank quickly pushed her legs upward toward her tits and leaned in to lick her cunt. Sandy cooperated by spreading her legs to give him room and greeting the licking by undulating and surging upward toward him. This went on for what must have been five minutes while Sandy looked as if she might well have climaxed.

Finally, Frank pulled away, lowered his pants and shorts and got on the seat between Sandy's legs. This time there was no surreptitious preparing to enter her. He simply took her legs into the air, almost back to her tits, and moved between them. From my vantage point, I could see his cock pointed toward her cunt as he started to come down on her. Without hesitation he leaned forward over her, his hands beside her shoulders as his pelvis came down on her upturned cunt and impaled her with a sudden surge. I couldn't see the penetration, of course, but there was no question that it had taken place. I had just seen my wife being taken - and welcoming it!

I sat there unmoving as I watched the time-honored process of a man having sexual intercourse with a woman - in other words, he was fucking her! I don't know if my mind was numb, frozen, anesthetized or just so caught up in the spectacle, but I had no conscious thoughts as Frank's body began to move in and out between her thighs, inserting and withdrawing his cock as he screwed her. Sandy's response was to meet his inward thrusts with an upward surge, dropping back as he withdrew. I could see her face a few times and there was no doubt that she was really lost in her in her own desire. She wasn't just lying there as her cunt was battered, not just a woman being used by a man.

Both were, obviously, climbing higher and higher toward climax. Frank's hips moved faster and faster as his cock hammered into Sandy's cunt, and she was matching his moves. I couldn't see real detail as I could have in a brighter light, but I could see everything I needed as, suddenly, Frank buried his cock as deep as it could go and fused his body with hers, undoubtedly flooding her receptive cunt with his cum. Underneath, Sandy was writhing against him, holding her hips upward in an ecstasy of orgasm.

They held together that way for almost a minute as each attempted to milk all of the pleasure as possible from their coitus. Finally, Frank slumped down on her as her legs fell and spraddled out beside him. Then, seemingly reluctantly, he pushed himself up to his knees and pulled back. Then, for the first time, I could see my naked wife after her adulterous fucking. She was lying there, her right leg against the seat back while her left leg was flat on the seat, her crotch completely exposed in that wide open position. With the binoculars focused on that area, I could see that the lips were pulled back and open and, as I would confirm later, looked swollen and battered. She just lay there, graphically exposed, and made no effort to pull her legs together. I know that something was said for she smiled and laughed as she answered.

Frank rather awkwardly came down on her for a quick kiss and pulled back as he tried to get his shorts and pants on. Sandy finally pulled her legs together and moved over to give him room. I had wondered the last time how he had managed to get into her on the front seat and my question was made more relevant as I saw him dressing. The seat in that big old car was plenty wide enough when pushed back all the way. However, it certainly would have been more comfortable if it had been longer. However, with Sandy's legs raised high, he did have room to kneel on the seat and come down on her. Obviously, if he was uncomfortable or cramped, he would accept that discomfort for the chance to fuck Sandy!

Of course, this still left Sandy naked. She took her tight skirt from where she had placed it and started, with some difficulty, to get her legs into it. Turning to Frank she said something and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, "Why not!" As she told me later, getting dressed in a car is not easy - even the wrap skirt from the last time had to be fastened on as she got out. In any case, putting the skirt down, she reached for her coat and wiggled into it. Then Frank opened the door and, carrying her skirt and sweater, nude under her coat, Sandy came in to greet her husband. A few kisses and a little fondling at the front door and she was home.

As she walked the short distance to the front door, I had the most peculiar reaction - I was embarrassed! I stood there, binoculars in my hand, staring downward, and I thought, "What the hell am I doing?" Somehow I had a flash picture of a dirty old man, drooling over the obscene spectacle of his wife being fucked before his eyes! Watching her lewd behavior while getting a licentious thrill out of her adulterous behavior! I was a voyeur, getting perverse arousal from peeking - even using binoculars! I have no idea as to why all of those negative feeling about my actions landed on me at once, but I actually dropped the binoculars and almost ran to our bedroom. I cringed at the thought of telling Sandy that I had spied on her, seen her engaged in extramarital sex. My mind was muddied; not thinking clearly as conflicting thoughts besieged me. The odd thing, as I thought about it later, was that I was engulfed in guilt because I watch my wife commit the sin of adultery. And I felt that I, rather than she, should apologize! Minds are funny things!

I would love to have a picture of the expressions on our faces as she entered the bedroom, still carrying her skirt and sweater over her arm. I know that I was still immersed in that feeling of guilt, thinking, "How will she react if she thinks I was spying on her? Will she think it odd that seeing her being screwed turned me on?" Actually, it was more a jumbled mishmash than such clearly expressed thoughts cluttered my mind and, I fear, some of that had to appear on my face.

For her part, she was smiling, but it was a sort of timorous smile, waiting for my reaction, hoping for approval but fearful that it was not forthcoming. Fortunately, for both of us, I believe, her first words were, "Did you see us come in? Is everything all right?"

That left me an immediate opening to expunge my guilt and I replied, "Yes. I was watching for you and it was an unbelievable performance!"

My reply was the reassurance she wanted and she threw her arms around me and declared, "You're wonderful! I love you!" Then, stepping back, she asked, "What do you think of this outfit to wear home from a party?"

It was delightful! I had, of course, seen her from the window, but the close-up was extraordinarily sexy. There she was, wearing a short, hip-length coat with her hose, supporters and her white thighs exposed below it. It was the type of outfit and pose that you would see in "Playboy" magazine type spread. Aside from my admiring expression, my appreciation and arousal was demonstrated by a very obvious erection. I said, "Wait a minute," and hurried back over to the office and returned with the camera. After several shots of her "travelling clothes," she provided the "piece de resistance" by opening the coat and holding it wide to reveal her virtually naked body.

I was recording that view for posterity (and our intent scrutiny later) when she suddenly gasped, "Oh, my god, look!" What she had seen, actually felt, was a stream of cum that was making its way down to her stocking tops from her cunt. With her diaphragm in, the semen was blocked from going deeply into her and was beginning to seep, actually pour, out!

I quickly took her coat, pulled the covers out of the way and had her lie back on the bed. She raised and spread her legs, revealing a thoroughly fucked cunt. The outer lips were pulled back and open, revealing the deep red insides. The hole, itself was visible, but it was mostly blocked by the white, mucus-like cum that Frank had shot into her. As she lay there, it began to flow downward out of her cunt, over the perineum, over her asshole and onto the bed. Snapping several pictures of her saturated cunt, I commented, "He must have put a quart up into you! He must have saved it up since the last time."

Her reaction was heartfelt. "Thank heavens I put my diaphragm in! My god, I would have been petrified for the rest of the month!"

"Yeah, it looks like that you'll be wearing it to your parties from now on. You certainly don't want to take any chances."

That was the last thing said for some time, for my own cock was too demanding and I couldn't wait any longer. Putting her legs over my shoulders, I came down on her and slid into her with one push. There always have been derogatory comments about "sloppy seconds" and I'm sure that that could be a real problem in many cases, but it certainly wasn't the case here. Obviously, I had screwed Sandy many, many times over the years, but I honestly don't believe that any was better than that one. The word that comes to mind is "silky" when I think about how her cunt felt as I went in and out. Certainly, she was well lubricated and, maybe, knowing what the lubrication was made it sexier. Whatever!

It was one of the most explosive sessions of sexual intercourse we had ever had for both of us. That was not so surprising for me, for I had had hours of stimulation, topped by having my just-fucked wife naked before me. It was more surprising for her because she had just finished that fucking in which she had participated with great enthusiasm. It was obvious that sharing her experience with me aroused her almost as much as the adulterous sex with Frank. Being screwed by me literally minutes after he had had her really turned her on. Certainly, there was a major change in her behavior as compared to the first time - no guilt, no real fear of my reaction and acceptance of her own desires. The transformation in her thoughts from just after New Year's to last night had been amazing and traumatizing for her, certainly not what I would have predicted.

She had gone from naive assumption that the episode with Frank was a one-time event to a sudden, shocking realization that he might not see it that way. She went from a question as to how she could make it clear that she wanted nothing more, to asking me what she should do. As I said before, I had been surprised by her uncertainty for I thought that it was just a question as to how, if the problem arose, to reject him with no hard feelings. What caused her complete turnaround?