She thought I was out, safely tucked up in my office and of no threat. But I'm smart. Smarter than her. I'd got wise to her little games.
I had suspected before, of course. Oh yes, it wasn't the first time that I had reckoned my bitch of a wife had cheated. Furtive telephone calls taken at odd times; purchases of new and more alluring clothes; more frequent visits to the hairdresser. All these changes had led me to one simple and inevitable conclusion: Michelle was having an affair.
In the past I had come close to catching her out a few times – once in particular. I'd come home early from work and passed a young tradesman – a plumber, I think – just leaving the house. His guilty smile as he hopped into his vehicle told me everything I needed to know. Inside the house Michelle was in her bathrobe – unusual for her during the day. She was standing over the sink washing a wine glass. Another glass stood upside down on the drainer. She was clearly surprised to see me home at that hour and as she turned to me I could see that she was still flushed. As I embraced her I could still smell the man on her, his masculine scent mixed with the unmistakable aroma of perspiration and sex.
Of course, I should have confronted her there and then, got the whole thing out in the open. But, whilst my anger was rising, strangely, another part of me was rising as well. I was confused. My mind was sending messages to my body that I didn't fully understand. Here was my young, beautiful wife – my treasure – still reeking of a man who had obviously just fucked her, and I was getting an erection you could hang your coat on!
I had turned away from Michelle, embarrassed by my body's display of arousal, and made an excuse to go and shower. I could still feel the blood pounding through my swollen shaft as I stripped off and stepped beneath the warm, cascading water. As the down pouring water cleansed my body – if not my mind – I masturbated to a very quick climax, shooting the entire contents of my balls onto the floor of the stall.
But despite my confusion on that day so many weeks ago, I was still determined to catch Michelle in the act of adultery – perhaps now more than ever. My plan had been simple in the extreme. I am usually a creature of habit; leaving for work each day at much the same time and – normally – returning in the same regimented fashion. But a man could change. Couldn't he?
I had told my office that I would not be in at all that day and that I would not be contactable – they could survive without me for one day, I reasoned. As far as my wife was concerned it was a normal day. 8am found me kissing her cheek goodbye, taking my briefcase from the hall stand, patting my pocket for keys and closing the front door securely behind me. But I wasn't going to work. I wasn't going to walk the half-mile to the railway station and catch the 8.30 express to the city. I had left the back door unlocked and, while Michelle took her morning shower, I crept surreptitiously back into the house.
I could hear the running of water from upstairs stop just as I padded silently into my den and closed the door. I had been just in time, I guessed. My mind was a turmoil of thoughts. Two days previously, my wife had received another of her secret telephone calls and I had overheard her arranging a meeting with someone for early that morning. Of course, it could have been completely innocent; a girlfriend perhaps. But I doubted it. If the call and subsequent appointment was without guilt, then why all the secrecy?
I didn't have long to wait before I found out the truth.
At a clearly pre-arranged time, Michelle descended the stairs and walked straight to the back door. She had dressed in a nice silky black shirt and black slacks. Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly in a pony-tail and she was bare-foot. I had to admit she looked very sexy.
I heard the glass door slide back effortlessly on its runner and then muffled voices. Slowly and carefully I opened the door to my den – just a crack. I still couldn't see the back door but I could hear the voices better and also had a good view of the lounge.
I felt my heart beat faster as my wife returned to the lounge. Her visitor was just behind her, their hands clasped together like teenaged lovers. Damn! It was that same son-of-a-bitch plumber that had grinned at me all those weeks ago. I could feel the hackles on the back of my neck rising and had to calm myself physically. There was no point in confronting them yet, there was really nothing to confront them with.
It was obvious that the young tradesman had not come to work on any of our kitchen appliances. There was no sign of any overalls or tool bag and he had dressed casually for the warm weather: light coloured shorts, sports shirt and sunglasses. He also sported a pair of leather sandals, which he kicked off and left by the door. For a moment I was stunned by the paradox: he was clearly not concerned about fucking my wife but seemed more anxious about scuffing my carpet with his shoes!
I watched silently as Michelle led the young man into the lounge. They embraced in the centre of the room; their arms entwined about each other's bodies and their lips mashed together lustily. It was also a noisy kiss. Tongues darted in and out of mouths and slurped greedily.
Suddenly Michelle broke the kiss and stood back. She had a wicked look on her face and stared straight at her lover as she slowly unbuttoned the front of her blouse. Neither the young tradesman or I could keep our eyes from straying from her body as slowly - oh so slowly – Michelle shrugged the silken garment from her shoulders and revealed to us both her wonderful, large tanned breasts.
Still standing in the centre of the room, barefoot and now topless, Michelle grinned at the other man.
"You now." She said coolly. "I can already see you want me."
Michelle was not wrong. I followed her gaze to the front of the young mans shorts and quickly saw that he was sporting a large, hard bulge in the front. And he was not alone. The aching sensation from my own groin told me that it had happened again: the sight of my wife with another man had given me a hard-on!
I watched as Michelle reached out and touched the front of her lovers' shorts. The bulge twitched and a low moan escaped the young mans lips. His trembling hands caressed the soft slopes of her breasts as she squeezed gently at his crotch and his fingers flicked – not too softly, either – at the swollen pink buds of her nipples.
Both Michelle and they other man were moaning now, seemingly lost in their own lust for each other. They kissed again – more fervently this time – their hands exploring, fondling, groping. Michelle was breathless when at last the wet kiss was broken. "Let's get naked!" she panted.
I could see her breasts heaving and a sheen of perspiration already coating them as she virtually tore at the expensive designer slacks that she had bought on our last shopping trip. I had never seen her wear them before and now I knew the reason why. I wondered how many other items of clothing she had bought that were intended to please her lover (or lovers?) rather than me.
When the adulterous couple were finally completely naked, I watched them again fall into each other's arms. It seemed that they could hardly keep their hands off each other and for Michelle's part her fingers went straight to the solid erection that was standing proud between the young mans legs. He groaned again – deeply this time – as her cool fingers wrapped around his thick shaft. His hands, that were resting on her shoulders, began to push her downwards. Michelle knew instinctively what he wanted – as did I – and with a little crooked smile she dropped to her knees in front of him.
My own erection ached beneath my suit pants as I watched the young tradesman's head roll back and his eyes close. Michelle's fingers were working him expertly; gently pulling back his foreskin and stroking up and down the length of his shaft with careful, practised motions. I massaged and squeezed the front of my pants and groaned inwardly. The feeling of lust was beginning to encompass my whole body.
As I watched Michelle kneeling on the floor at her lovers' feet I unzipped my suit pants and pulled my cock out. I felt so hot and turned on that I couldn't resist squeezing the head gently.
The young mans cock looked inflamed and swollen as Michelle caressed it. She gazed at the turgid weapon with a look that belied her excitement, opened her mouth and then guided the whole length between her soft, painted lips. The young man cried out his ardour and his hands went to the back of her head, pulling her towards him and burying half the length of his shaft deep in her throat. Her hands were on his balls, stroking and teasing the sensitive flesh and she tilted her head back just a little further and I watched his entire cock disappear inch by inch into her windpipe.
For several more minutes I watched my sweet bitch wife suck on another mans swollen tool and I have to say that it was one of the most exciting events that I'd ever witnessed. I stroked my own cock in time to her slurping, wet mouth as she devoured the appendage and had to stop and hold my breath on several occasions just to keep myself from climaxing onto the den carpet.
It seemed that the young tradesman was also concerned about cumming too soon. He looked down at my wife as she gobbled him greedily.
