And He Watched Us

A diversion away from the Perspectives series. Again this is an 'is it true or a fantasy' story.

Read it, make your mind up and let me know.

Cat was laying on her front. She was naked and her legs were wide open. Her husband was on top of her his cock was buried deep in her cunt. He was fucking her. He had been fucking her for some time. That was something they both enjoyed, long languid fucks that sometimes lasted an hour or more. During that time she would cum several times, but he would climax just the once. Richard was a strictly once a night man, but he did last a very long time indeed.

He pushed hard, positioning his cock as far into his wife as he could and then held it there, rigid and still. As he did that he reached round her curvy body and with his right hand found one of her full, luscious tits; he squeezed that and pinched her erect nipple. The other hand slid down the front of her body to find her clit. He found it quite easily, but then he should know where it was, he'd been using it for nearly twenty five years. She lifted up a little, grunted and jerked her torso putting a lovely pressure on his cock.

****

They had married quite young, with both of them having little experience other than with each other. Cat, short for Catherine, was sure that was wrong and felt that was a key reason as to the difficulties they'd had throughout their marriage.

They had both had affairs and a few flings with Richard often getting lucky on his business travels. Whilst, as with many people, professing not to like one night stands, when a tasty woman was offering it to him in a hotel in New York, LA, Paris or Frankfurt, he quickly overcame his 'dislike' of them. Richard is a hugely successful corporate lawyer with one of the world's leading law firms; he travels a great deal and works horrendous hours.

Cat wasn't promiscuous. In fact she had only had sex with eight men in her entire life; three prior to being married, Richard, two affairs and two brief flings . In nearly thirty years of sexual activity she didn't think that was too bad, one man every three and three quarter years!

Although neither had told the other the details of their 'wanderings' they both knew that the other had strayed; in that typically English way they sensibly 'brushed it under the carpet,' ignored it and got on with their lives.

****

"I want to see you being fucked," he grunted, returning to a theme they had discussed several times during and just after sex.

"Why?" She always asked.

"I want to see how you react to having it with another guy."

"I don't want another guy."

"But you've had some haven't you?" He asked becoming exited and thrusting himself in and out of her.

"Oh God that's so good," she groaned slightly lifting her stomach from the bed, knowing that would divert him from asking about other men.

She felt him grab her hips and arch his back, lifting his chest from her. That gave him more leverage and he was able to push harder into her. She pulled her knees up a little and raised her bum. He surged in and out of her several times making her grunt and moan with the lovely feelings it gave her.

"Wouldn't you like this from another bloke. Another bloke fucking you, another bloke's cock up your hot, wet cunt?"

****

Cat usually managed to avoid fully answering Richard's questions. It wasn't that they annoyed or revolted her, for they actually intrigued and, in some ways, excited her. It was that she didn't want to confront the situation with him in the cold light of post orgasmic sex. She didn't want to discuss it, didn't want to find out more or hear precisely what he meant. She didn't want to address the idea herself for, deep down she knew that if 'push came to shove' her answer would be yes. The idea of being fucked as Richard watched, turned her on.

Sitting in the conservatory of their large detached house just outside St Albans fifteen miles or so to the north of London, Cat had been working. Although financially they had no need of her income, she enjoyed the part time work she did for a publishing house editing books and articles and usually did her reading and editing in the conservatory overlooking the landscaped gardens of their home. It was peaceful and conducive to the concentration she needed to edit author's work.

She had been to the gym earlier and having forgotten an urgent editing job she didn't change when she got home, but settled down and read the poorly written historical novel. When reading such drivel, her mind often wandered. At times, she amazed herself when she suddenly realised she was supposed to be reading a book, but was actually miles away thinking of something entirely divorced from the project in hand.

Today was no exception. The only difference being that what was in hand was not the project, but her rounded breast. The full boob, which she had eased out of the black sports bra she wore under the white singlet. It wasn't the extremes of Regency Britain that was going through her mind, it was the thought of being fucked by another man, albeit a faceless one, as Richard looked on. It was not the problems confronting the hero of the novel, which filled her mind, but having a stranger's cock up her cunt. It was not completing the editing that concerned her, for the manuscript had fallen to the floor as she fell back in the large armchair, it was completing her masturbation that was her objective. All thoughts of some fucking hero of the novel called Lord Chormley were pushed to one side in just the same way that her singlet was so that she had full access to both her breasts, which she had yanked out from the big, tight sports bra. Her hands no longer held the manuscript, her fingers no longer turned the pages. Instead her hands slid her tight, black lycra cropped trousers down her thighs and her fingers found the folds of her wet, ready and so demanding cunt.

It didn't take her long to make herself cum; it rarely seemed to these days.

****

Richard knew that he was going through a mid life crises. But then he had been doing that for years as had most of his legal colleagues. They lived crazy lives. Twelve hour days were the norm, fourteen were quite common and from sixteen to twenty relatively frequent. Handling international mergers and acquisitions demanded that level of commitment. It also demanded lots of travel, so Richard spent almost as much time in the States as he did in the UK. It was not uncommon for him to fly to New York on a Sunday, come back overnight on the Monday, work in London on the Tuesday and Wednesday and then go back to America for the Thursday and Friday returning home over night Friday.

Whilst on the surface he was very conventional, scratch through it and Richard's 'other' self emerged. Sexually, he was up for most anything and his Platinum Amex and extraordinarily generous expense account paid from a subsidiary practice in the Cayman Islands, enabled him to have most of what he wanted.

Obviously when entertaining high rolling, upscale clients he had to participate so he had the chance to experience most things. Orgies with several girls and blokes, threesomes, both mmf and ffm and the usual services supplied by upmarket hostessing agencies all came his way. He had the occasional one night stand and had some years ago had a couple of affairs, but really had no time for that nowadays.

In his way, he still loved his wife. But it was not the exclusive love that really good marriages are supposed to be about, he just could not intellectually, emotionally or physically come to terms with the concept or reality of monogamy. He thought, in her way, that Cat understood that, though they never really discussed it. He was also pretty sure that she'd had flings and maybe affairs. That didn't bother him, he believed in the goose and gander principle. In fact it excited him to think of her with someone else. In even more fact he had for some time had this yearning to see her with another guy, or woman come to that. Why? He hadn't the foggiest idea, but as his hand moved faster on his hardened cock as he stood in the loo in the first class cabin of the BA flight from New York to London, he could see Cat being fucked by another guy as he looked on.

****

"So will you think about it?" Richard asked Cat as she lay in his arms in the large bed on the thirtieth floor of the Pierre Hotel in New York.

"Oh Richard it's silly."

"It's not silly Cat. It's a fantasy. Yes it might be unusual and it might be something that your friends at the tennis club wouldn't like, but I bet your many fancy friends in the publishing would like the idea.

Cat knew he was right. Many couples she knew and even more she had heard about needed little diversions as the tedium of fucking the same person for twenty years or so hit home. Affairs, swinging, orgies, threesomes, both two females and a man and two men and a girl, photographing one another, exhibitionism even trying S & M and other slightly deviant practices had all been mentioned one way or the other. And several times she had heard of girls whose husbands' had asked for precisely what Richard was proposing.

It had taken her a long time to come to terms with the fact that deep down she was game for it. She'd had other men and, occasionally when Richard was away, she was tempted to add to her list, but she knew it would all be just too complicated. The lying, the excuses, the making sure his aftershave hadn't lingered on her, the meeting him, whoever 'him' was, in places where they wouldn't meet anyone she might know. And all the other considerations of an affair, which were bad enough with a single guy, but got multiplied many times if he was married. So she didn't take up the opportunities offered to her at the gym, the tennis club, through work and, mostly, from Richard's work colleagues.

But she did want other men. No, that wasn't quite true, other men was all too messy. It was the difference she wanted. It was something different to Richard she wanted to revisit; the alternate ways of doing things, the different feels on her hands and body and inside her. That's what she was after, she thought and her husband's proposal could enable her to do that without all the lying, cheating, guilt trips and sheer messiness that the other option, an affair would necessitate.

But she didn't want to appear too eager. She didn't want Richard holding that over her in years to come, maybe when one of his exceedingly clever and even more ruthless legal colleagues was negotiating their divorce. So she had held out. Richard had taken it to be sexual naivety on her part and that was how she wanted him to feel. She thought that was rather clever of her.

"Would it really, really please you if I did?" Cat asked starting to lick her way down her husband's body.

****

They had reached an agreement far easier than either would have thought possible. But then letting your husband cum in your mouth and a bloody great diamond from Van Cleefe, tends to 'oil the wheels' of negotiations.

Back in the UK, Richard was now confronted with the problem of finding a guy for the job. On the face of it, maybe not too difficult, but for a lawyer who was paranoid about his reputation, it was quite a challenge. He considered using the Internet to find a 'male escort' and indeed checked out a few sites. There was always that nagging worry, though, that somehow, maybe by his credit card, which they all insisted upon, he would be blackmailed. At the very least he knew he would be continually bombarded with porn spam. He thought about asking a colleague from work; after all they all needed the same level of discretion as he. There were several he knew who really fancied Cat including one he suspected who may have got further with her than just fancying. He decided against it, though, on the basis that whoever he chose may one day end up working for him and that would give them leverage on him or, even worse, might become his boss. He thought about guys at the golf club, many of whom he'd known for over twenty five years, but that was a little too close to home. The solution, in the end, was fortuitous and presented itself to him.

****

Cat was so nervous. She now really regretted having agreed to this crazy idea. But there was no way out, no way at all.

Richard set it up for a Friday, the one day he sometimes didn't work until ten o' clock. They would meet in the bar of an anonymous hotel, the Sheraton, at Heathrow. A couple of drinks, then dinner in the suite, he'd said.

"Do they have suites at that sort of hotel?" Cat had asked.

"Of course, don't be so snobbish."

"How long will we stay?"

"I don't know Cat, let's say until we are finished shall we?

They arrived at the hotel a good hour or so before the other guy was due to turn up. Several times on the drive round the, as always busy and as always with roadworks, M25 and then down the M4, Cat almost backed out and nearly asked Richard to turn round. But for one thing she was pretty sure she would have done just that.

****

They were in bed. They had just had sex, a pretty straightforward coupling after a brief but interesting foreplay, Cat loved her nipples being sucked, quite hard too.

"Want to know more about the guy," he told her stroking her breast.

It didn't register at first.

"The guy?"

"Yes Cat, your new lover."

The penny dropped and her heart started to pound, but she could think of nothing to say other than.

"Oh really."

Once Richard had got her agreement in New York a few weeks ago, he had kept the pressure on, in more ways than one. Not only did he keep telling how wonderful it was going to be for both of them and kept her up to date with his views on where to find him, but he also shagged her more often. That was nice and different come to that.

He told her how it was completely safe for no one at the place where the guy worked knew who he was or, more importantly who she was.

Oddly, Richard had thought, and now Cat did as well, since agreeing to his plan, she hadn't once made any stipulations on looks or other details about her potential lover. She just hadn't been able to think about that for it was in a completely isolated compartment of her life, the door to which she would open when with him and then close when he had gone. Now though seemed the time to ask.

"What's he like?"

"Great sense of humour, very polite, diplomatic and considerate and I'm sure enormously discrete."

"That's all good," Cat mumbled not really that concerned about such things. "And looks."

"About six two, probably one seventy pounds, dark blonde hair, quite a looker."

"I see" Cat said as she held the back of Richard's head while he sucked her nipple slurpily deep into his mouth.

As he let her full, dark pink, horrendously swollen nipple slip from his mouth, he muttered the one thing that finally hooked her; the one thing that stopped her asking him to turn the car round on the way to Heathrow, yes the one thing that so excited her.

"Oh by the way, he's just eighteen, is that ok?"

'Ok? Ok? Is it fucking ok?' She thought as she lay beside her snoring husband later that night. 'How the hell could he know? I've never mentioned it I'm sure.'

How the hell then could he know that it was a major fantasy of hers to have sex with a real toyboy, a youngster, a teenager. At the tennis club her body sometimes ached when she saw the younger guys in their brief shorts and tees. How she had resisted a number of advances from them she just didn't know.

"So where did you find him?" She asked the next night when almost uniquely for the past few years they had sex again.

"He's a junior coach at that driving range I sometimes use. You saw him when you came with me a few weeks ago."

"Oh I remember," Cat said quietly her pulse racing a bit at the memory of the coach and at the vision of being in bed with him. "So how did you get to ask him?"

Richard went on to explain that it came completely out of the blue. He'd been hitting a few balls and they passed each other by the ball machine. They got chatting and as Richard put it "I asked if he would give you some lessons, I've heard good things about him." He went to explain that he'd told Grant that he had seen you and Grant had replied that he remembered. Richard had said that he must have a good memory and Grant had said that he had for pretty ladies. They had both laughed. Richard told her that he then went shit or bust and asked Grant right out whether he would like to sleep with my wife. At first he thought Richard was joking, but after some reassurance he realised he wasn't.

"And that my dear is how I found the man I am going to watch fuck you," he said, again taking her bloated nipple into his mouth as he slipped three fingers up her wet and ready pussy.

Her husband's finger stimulated orgasm was accompanied by Cat imagining being in the arms of a naked young guy with his hard, so hard, so much harder than Richard's cock embedded deep in her cunt.

****

Cat had thought carefully about what to wear. Her mind had roamed over a tight dress, trousers and low cut top and jeans and a crisp white shirt. She'd thought of flashing a lot of her breasts about which she was justifiably proud or wearing something which accentuated the deep cleavage her D cup boobs so easily created in the right garment. She'd discounted her early ideas and had settled for a darkish blue, cashmere sweater, which had two buttons at the high neck, a small collar and short sleeves. It was tight enough to indicate the swells of the goodies inside, but not so much that they were overly emphasised. 'Time for that when we take it off' she had thought smiling to herself as she stood before the mirror in just her bra and that sweater; Cat always put her clothes on in the wrong order.

For some inexplicable reason she put a string of pearls round her neck, well they were coming back into fashion, she thought as she did the clip up. She accompanied the sweater with a, tight, black almost, but not quite, pencil skirt. That fitted tightly round her bum and, she noticed showed no VPL at all. Nice. Slipping into a pair of black, court high heels she was ready. She made one final twirl in front of the mirror noticing with a wry smile that whilst her panties, well her thong, made no unsightly marks under the skirt, the lacy top hold ups she had bought on impulse today whilst shopping at Waitrose, made little ridges under the thin material of her skirt. She checked to make sure the seams were straight and made a mental not to recheck them before meeting Grant.

If Cat could have written the script for such an elicit shag as this or if she could have cast the young man she was to go with, she would have described Grant. He was lovely to look at and, whilst not the most interesting conversationalist in the world, but then what teenagers are, he had nice manners, was genuinely friendly and had a caring and sensitive manner. Cat began to warm to the evening ahead.

The drinks went well, although Richard made most of the conversation and controlled the discussion with his usual lawyerly tact and guile. What they were they for and presumably what each of them were most concerned about, Grant and Cat having sex, was not mentioned not even in the most oblique of ways.

"I arranged for dinner in the suite," Richard said dead on seven, the time they had agreed.

"A suite, I have never been in one," Grant said, clearly impressed.

"Well if you make it on the tour one day, you'll get used to it," Richard said nodding to the barman to put the drinks on the room bill and slipping him a fiver as he put his hands on both Grant's and Cat's waist. "Shall we go then?"

Although Richard was used to negotiating massive deals involving hundreds of millions of pounds, he couldn't recall being as nervous as he was riding up in the elevator with just the other two. He couldn't help musing how elevators are such conversation killers, when none of them said a word as they silently slid up to the fifth floor.