My Wife's Peeping Tom

Brook had no idea that I told my coworker Bob that the hot redhead he lusted over in the airport terminal was my wife. I waited until he'd gotten graphically specific about the nasty things he'd like to do to her. After I revealed her identity, his response was loud enough that I worried he might disturb the other passengers in coach.

"Oh Geez, Ethan! I'm so sorry. I had no idea!"

"Don't sweat it, dude. I know how hot my wife is," I replied, glad that I'd already pulled down my dining tray so he couldn't see the bulge in my cargo shorts. Rather than jealousy, I mainly felt pride in how much other men wanted my hot wife.

"I feel like an idiot! Why didn't you tell me who she was?"

"Brooke and I have an agreement. During this vacation, we're pretending not to be married or even know each other. That way, when I get a few hours away from the convention, I can meet her in a bar and try to chat her up like we're strangers. Is that weird?"

"Fuck no. If you don't do it, I

will

," Bob chuckled, obviously relieved that I wasn't pissed at him. I almost dropped the whole thing when he looked out the window, but I felt like talking now that I'd admitted who Brooke was.

"Yeah, I just wish we could have more time together. She'll probably be spending a lot of time alone while we're down there."

"That's sucks," Bob commiserated with me. He had no way of knowing that I'd arranged it that way on purpose. Then my coworker surprised me. "Hey! Tell you what. As long as you help me set up and take down our company displays, and maybe cover the table so I can go enjoy the beach on Wednesday, I don't mind letting you bail on manning the booth."

"Really?" I gasped. I'd just been looking to say out loud what I'd been doing, not trying to get out of work.

"Sure! It's no problem at all. I know you hate these things, and frankly, your scowling at potential clients puts me off my game anyway," Bob assured me before taking another sip from the single rum and generic cola we coach passengers rated.

"Wow. That's really generous of you, Bob. You're a good friend."

"I'm glad you feel that way after all the things I said I wanted to do to your wife."

"Seriously, Bob, don't even worry about that. It's not like I don't think about doing the same things to her."

"Yeah," Bob sighed almost wistfully, "but you get to actually

do

them."

It was a little uncomfortable when my coworker later saw Brooke flirting with some big black guy at baggage claim, and he even offered to help me kick the guy's ass. I assured him that my wife was just trying to tease me and had no intention of sleeping with the guy. Bob finally calmed down after we watched the two of them walk off in different directions.

Other than when I went to confiscate her travel clothes after we got to the hotel, I didn't see much of Brooke that first day. Bob and I would spend over two hours trying to figure out how to put together the elaborate booth and audiovisual equipment our company purchased for the event. Then we'd have to sit through the opening ceremonies and an evening banquet. While Bob had been extremely generous to cover for me, I couldn't justify making him do the shittiest stuff on his own, so I was stuck for the duration.

Around one in the afternoon, while we were still in the middle of putting the booth together, I received a text from Brooke. It just read, "Eating lunch at the pool", but right after that, she sent me a photo of her and Walt Van Ameyde, a VP at my company's biggest competitor. I could only see them from the table up, but he was shirtless and Brooke only wore the tiny red bikini I'd provided her.

Walt had his arm around my wife, and she'd leaned into him with a radiant smile on her face. They looked like a rich guy and his much younger trophy wife on their honeymoon. I stared at the photo for over a minute, and when Bob yelled at me to get back to helping him with the display, I had to adjust the erection that had appeared in my shorts before joining him.

Obviously, I knew Brooke would be flirting with other men during that week. Hell, I practically forced her to. I just hadn't counted on the second guy she met being someone I knew personally. I'd been beaten out by Walt on several deals over the years, and seeing him with his arm possessively around my almost naked wife should've made me angry or jealous.

Actually, I guess it did, but I was far more concerned about my cock's reaction to that photo. Why in the Hell did it turn me on to know my wife was flirting with my biggest professional rival while I toiled away on some stupid display at a convention I didn't even want to attend? I fumed in the knowledge that Walt had lackeys like me to put up

his

display, thus giving him the time to chat up my wife.

After we finished the construction and began talking to the few potential customers already roaming the floor, I managed to put that photo out of my thoughts. Unfortunately, during the extremely tedious opening ceremonies, I had plenty of time to think. Shamefully, I found myself repeatedly pulling up that photo and imagining what might've happened after lunch.

Every time I did that, my erection returned. I couldn't seem to get past it even though I loathed myself for my reaction. It didn't help that my wife's wet bathing suit clung to her puffy nipples like a second skin, leaving them as visible as if she'd been naked.

Hmm... Maybe cutting the lining out of that suit wasn't my brightest idea...

As much as I told myself that I should be more upset, that damn erection persisted to torment me. My mind drifted during the speeches, and at one point I imagined Walt using his thumb and forefinger to squeeze and gently roll my wife's nipple until she melted in ecstasy. Of course, he had no idea how willing to please that made her, but I couldn't stop thinking about him figuring it out and wearing down Brooke's resistance.

When I thought about how I'd shut down the conversation when Brooke asked for clarification on the rules, I experienced another wave of self-revulsion. I'd practically told her that anything up to fucking was OK. As I sat in the middle of that ornate ballroom picking at my dry chicken and bland mostaccioli, I considered that at that very moment my wife might be sucking Walt's cock or letting him eat her pussy in the belief that she had her husband's full support and encouragement.

I'd meant it as a sort of naughty tease that would allow her to enjoy imagining being a bad girl, but now that she was out somewhere actually playing with God knows who, it no longer felt like a game. I'd never seriously believed Brooke would cheat on me, and that probably led me to push things a little further than I should've during the planning stages.

Fuck! My wife might be with some stranger on the beach in mid-orgasm right now while I sit here amongst my colleagues with my pathetic erection and obscene thoughts about her potential infidelity.

My coworker spent most of dinner talking to everyone else at the table. He'd grown accustomed to my taciturn demeanor in social situations, so I don't think he realized just how distracted I'd become. Bob lived for talking to people and making sales, and he just expected me to be the subject matter expert when something technical came up.

While he discussed expanding markets and profit margins, I continued to wonder what depravity my wife might be up to. When the banquet ended at ten, I told Bob I was going to check on Brooke. I feared I might jump out of my own skin if I didn't find out what she was doing and with whom.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" Bob chortled in response to my announcement. At that moment, the waggling eyebrows and lascivious grin on his face irritated me.

"You'll see me later tonight. It's just the first day. I won't pick her up in a bar until at least Wednesday or Thursday night, so no sex until then."

"Well, that's a bummer," Bob lamented with a downhearted expression. I think he planned on living vicariously through me all week.

In the elevator, I received a new text and photo. This time, Brooke posed at some club between two tall Latino men in white linen suits and dress shirts. They stood sideways to the camera, with the guy behind my wife pressed up against her ass and the other guy facing her only inches from her pert little nose and brilliant smile.

Brooke wore the white halter top that I'd packed for her. It had cups concealed in front that gave her some support, but I knew it wouldn't be enough to stop her boobs from jiggling and moving around when she walked or danced. The top had a nice cowl neck, so she had a lot of cleavage on display as well.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Peering closer, I saw that she'd donned the pale pink miniskirt I'd packed for her. I'd purposefully bought really short skirts because I wanted Brooke to look available. The last thing I wanted was for my wife to be hurt because no one hit on her. I probably should've had her try them on before we left, but I'd wanted her wardrobe for the week to be a surprise.

I both regretted and took delight in my choice. I regretted it because the skirt barely covered her pussy, and I hadn't given Brooke any panties to wear under it. Her bathing suits would've left all sorts of bumps in the pink spandex, and that skirt had smoothly molded to every curve of my wife's shapely hips and ass.

Her outfit delighted me for the same reason. The thought of Brooke in public in that revealing outfit made me hard and desperate to see it for myself. I could even make out the slight curve of her pelvic bone just inches from the guy in front of her, and it was one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen. When I reached my floor, I quickly hit the lobby button and read her message.

> Hey Babe. I'm at Club Brava with Armando and Javier. Don't worrry. They R taking very good care fo me. I haven't had to buy a drikn all night!"

Scrolling back up to the photo, I now noticed that Brooke's eyes had glazed over, and I knew she'd been drinking more than usual. Looking up the address on my cell, I practically ran to the rental car. The GPS got me to the club in no time.

It cost me twenty dollars to get in, but I had to see what was happening. I searched the crowded club for a good ten minutes before finding my wife on the dance floor with one of the guys from the photo. I hung back in a dark corner and waved off a waitress that offered to get me something.

A guy Brooke would later identify as Javier had her in his arms, but I wouldn't call what they did dancing. My wife had her arms around his neck, and the backless halter meant that the thin strip of pink barely covering her ass was basically the only clothing I could see from my position behind her. They moved only slightly, and it appeared to be more of a long hug than a dance.

Javier stood taller than Brooke even though she wore the high heeled sandals I'd bought. Her head rested on his shoulder as his hands roamed her bare back and spandex covered bottom. My wife didn't react at all when he squeezed her ass with both hands, and I knew then that she'd crossed over into that wild place she goes when she's really drunk and horny.

A voice inside my head screamed at me to do something, but I remained frozen watching the scene from the shadows. I tried to adjust my erection without anyone around me noticing, but I couldn't tear my eyes from my wife and this complete stranger. As I took a few photos with my phone, I marveled at how far we'd gone beyond her dancing with a few of my friends at a party.

When the song ended, I half expected Javier to take her to the men's room so my wife could suck him off. Instead, he passed her off to Armando. I saw them high five each other behind Brooke's back, and I knew exactly what they planned. If they had their way, my wife would be spit roasted on their cocks before midnight.

Despite the danger and trouble that eventuality would entail, a shameful part of me wanted to let it happen. Even now I hate to admit that, but I knew Brooke had always been curious about being with two men, and the whole idea of seeing her take two cocks at once overwhelmed my sense of decency. Instead of going out there and rescuing her, I stayed right there pressing my wrist against the head of my cock as I imagined what my wife would look like with her chin and boobs dripping in the cum of those two strangers.

Javier came back for the next song, but that's when my brain finally overcame my dick. Coming to my senses, I realized I could never let my wife go home with these two lotharios. My combat training kicked in, and my body and mind prepared to intervene, but before I took two steps, Brooke stepped back from the randy local.

I watched as she shook her head, but Javier continued talking. Had he grabbed her, I would've taken him out. It turned out that he had no problem with getting a tourist so drunk that she'd consent to anything, but he apparently drew the line at outright rape. To this day, he has no idea how not being a

complete

piece of shit saved his life.

The two of them began arguing, but then Brooke turned on her heel and staggered away. Javier gave up and joined his friend by the bar. I followed my wife through the front door as my body tried to adjust to the adrenaline coursing through my veins after narrowly avoiding what would've been a potentially deadly confrontation.

Brooke seemed confused about what to do next as she stood on the sidewalk, so I approached her. My wife appeared surprised for a moment, but then she smiled and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. She's taller than me when she wears heels, but it felt good to have her body pressed against mine. I could feel my amped-up body calming as we stood in each other's arms on the sidewalk.

I walked Brooke back to my rental and drove back to our hotel. We didn't have far to go, so I didn't press her for details about her day. My wife had been happy to see me on the sidewalk, but she grew silent in the car. I think she might've misinterpreted my agitated state when we met up and worried that she'd done something to anger me.

Back on the twenty first floor of our hotel, Brooke unbuttoned her halter top as soon as we got off the elevator. She handed it to me before we reached the main hallway and then pushed her tiny skirt to the floor. I had to dive for it when she tossed it over her shoulder in my general direction. I recovered just as she tipped over a large vase and picked up the keycard she'd concealed there.

Damn! That skirt came off way easier than I thought it would...

She still staggered a bit, but Brooke giggled and playfully danced down the hall as she attempted to read the room numbers. I'd been blessed with a happy drunk, and I thanked my maker as I watched my wife walk down a public hallway in nothing but her heels and wedding ring. I had to help her unlock the door, but then she pulled me in with her.

I know my wife wanted to fuck, but I'd cum in my pants as I watched those two local men manhandle her. She might've been too drunk to notice the mess in my shorts, but after countless spoiled erections in my pants all day, I wasn't entirely sure I could stay hard long enough to let her finish. Instead, I took her to the balcony and laid her on the table.

"HELLO, SAN JUAN! Whoo Hooo!" my wife shouted to the city as she waved her arms around in a sort of dance on her back. I pulled up a chair and placed her feet on the arm rests.

I didn't bother with toys. I wanted this to last. Brooke settled down as soon as I began kissing her inner thighs.

When I placed one finger at the entrance of her pussy, I couldn't believe how wet Brooke already was. My finger slipped in without resistance, and when I tried two, they both went in just as easily. I idly wondered if Javier and Armando had broken her in for me by fingering my wife at the club, but I put that thought out of my mind as I focused on the task at hand. Even if they had, that didn't break the rules, so I couldn't complain even if I'd wanted to.

Curling my fingers so the pads of my fingertips would rub the front wall of her pussy, I bent down and placed my tongue on her labia. Brooke's feet came up off the armrests, and she reached down and grabbed the sides of my head with both hands. Before I knew it, my chin and cheeks were coated in my wife's arousal as I eagerly licked at her hot pussy.

When I say hot, I mean that literally. It felt as if my wife's pussy had been placed under a heat lamp. As Brooke brought her knees up to her shoulders to give me the greatest possible access to her sex, I felt myself cum in my pants again.

I love the taste of my wife, and while I like to fuck as much as the next guy, the truth is I've always preferred going down on Brooke. My own orgasm simply can't compete with making a woman squirm and beg for more. I love the control, and I crave the trust and appreciation my wife shows me after she surrenders to my tongue.

That night, I backed off several times just as she neared climax, edging her to distraction. Brooke groaned in frustration, but even in her inebriated state, she understood that this would happen on my schedule, not hers. My wife loves ceding control, so we both got what we wanted.

When I finally let her finish, Brooke nearly flung herself off the table. She cried out into the night, and I left the flat of my tongue pressed against her clit as the orgasm rolled over her like a steamroller. When I finally relented, my wife sobbed as she lay there on that table exposed to the world.

Brooke recovered eventually, and I carried her inside. Laying her atop the covers on the king sized bed, I kissed her on the forehead and brushed her auburn hair from her face with my hand. My wife looked so sexy with her mouth hanging slack and her beautiful green eyes half open.

"Thank you," she purred dreamily. "I have the best husband ever..."

Brooke drifted off, and I stood there looking down on her for a good five minutes. Spreading her legs wide, I placed her right hand on her pussy. I knew from previous drunken nights that my wife would probably end up playing with herself in her sleep. In the past, I'd even witnessed her climax without waking completely, and I thought that'd be a nice little show for anyone across the street who happened to look in on her once I left.

Going into the bathroom, I tried to clean myself up as much as I could. I wiped most of the semen from my boxer briefs, and I used one of Brooke's hand towels to do a quick wipe on my cum soaked balls. I had no intention of going back to my own room still wet from cumming in my pants.

The next morning, I knew Brooke would sleep in after all that drinking, so I let Bob take his shower and head down to the conference floor before I climbed out of bed. After shaving and showering, I put on some cargo shorts and a rather plain bowling shirt. After slipping into my sandals and a baseball hat that I'd bought in the hotel gift shop the day before, I headed down to the lobby.

Having learned Spanish while serving in the 7

th

Special Forces Group, I read a local paper on a couch across from the little hallway with the elevators so that I could spot Brooke when she eventually emerged. After about an hour, I walked over to the little snack bar on the edge of the lobby and bought a couple breakfast burritos and an orange juice. I kept an eye on the elevators, but my wife didn't appear before I finished my breakfast and the newspaper.

I considered calling Brooke, but I wanted her to think that I was working at the convention. I grew impatient after a while, but the boredom of surveillance and reconnaissance was old hat for me. Besides, I'd had far worse missions than relaxing on a comfy couch in a magnificent hotel lobby waiting for my gorgeous, mostly naked wife to show up.