In Chapter 3 Chris pressures Jean into more and more exhibitionist sex, often with strangers, and he takes her to Key West where she is gang banged, among other adventures. Now back in New York, Jean has put her foot down and their life has become more normal, or at least so it seems.
This story involves two couples swapping partners.
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We were getting bored, and then Chris decided we should watch some of the videos together. We began with Eric and Jose ravishing me in the fancy hotel, and continued the next night with Sam the Nerd. Chris was amazing in bed after the videos.
We even watched the videos I had got from Sam the Nerd, of Steve and Mitch kind of forcing me to have sex with them. We watched another video from Sam, one of me masturbating in one fairly spectacular session I had during my long period of sexual privation. Chris was thrilled, and I was just as thrilled. During and after the videos Chris and I fucked like animals.
Then I got very surprised. Chris had videos of the sauna fuck and the pool fuck from our trip to Key West. I asked how he got such videos and he just smiled. I found out later the hotel had security footage and he had bribed the security man to get copies. The security man also made copies for his own personal enjoyment, too.
Watching the pool fuck video I saw that our woman voyeur had been fingering herself while we fucked. Those videos led to some super hot sex; this time I was the animal.
The next night Chris surprised me like never before. He had videos of when we fucked on the beach and two strangers then fucked me, one after the other. How? He never said.
Another hot video, and another night of great sex awaited me. I figured there was someone hidden nearby with a damn good night vision video camera. Chris had been serious about those things!
Given all the videos, I was no longer surprised that he had a video of the gang-bang, too. I never wanted to do that again, but I had to admit I absolutely loved watching myself and reliving the entire gang-bang in my mind. I remembered exactly when I had cum during my second fuck and relived it as I watched, fingering myself furiously.
A few weeks later Chris told me we were invited to dinner at the home of one of his colleagues. I asked if he was one of the men who might have watched Chris and me fucking in the window of the hotel room. I kind of secretly hoped he was. Chris nodded. I no longer pretended to be prim and proper with Chris, and I smiled.
"Does he know it was me in the window?" I asked. Chris assured me he did not. He doubted his friend, named Rajeev, would remember my face. I said of course I would be happy to go to dinner at their place.
It is hard to remember just how much money bankers in New York are paid. But when you see one of them living in an apartment that must have cost around $15 or $20 million, it hits you on the head. Their apartment was spectacular. So was Rajeev's wife Krishna.
They both hailed originally from India, but Krishna was raised in New York. Nevertheless she cooked us Indian food and it was out of this world. She was dressed in a long, flowing sari and had an elaborate dot applied between her eyebrows.
When Rajeev met me there was recognition in his eyes, as if he had seen me many times before. I knew then that he knew it had been me in the hotel window. He had seen me naked and watched while Chris had fucked me, while I was pushed up against the window, my breasts flattening from the pressure. I expected to be embarrassed but I was not. Instead I was aroused.
His look was one of lust. It was a bit scary, but also erotic. It was enticing.
We drank a lot during dinner. The men had bourbon to start, and the four of us finished two bottles of red wine. That's half a bottle per person, and I was drunk as a skunk. So was Krishna.
I went to the kitchen to help her to clean up, leaving the men in the living room to watch football. Apparently Rajeev was even more of a fan of the game than was Chris, and that is quite an achievement.
Now in the kitchen, Krishna smiled and said, "Welcome to my inner sanctum. This place, the kitchen, is just for me. Rajeev is not allowed to enter." The kitchen was huge by any standards, but by New York standards it was ridiculously large.
It was like a generous studio apartment. She even had a six-foot long couch, an armchair, and a small eating table with two chairs. She of course had every appliance imaginable for a kitchen.
"Really, he can't enter?"
"Right. The only men that have ever been in here are workmen to install appliances, or to repair them. That's it. This is where I read "Fifty Shades of Gray" and books even more risqué than that. It's just for me."
"Wow," I said. "What about Rajeev, does he have a 'man cave' or some such thing? I've never seen an apartment this wonderful."
"Oh yes he does. And I have never set foot in it or even seen it." She saw how overwhelmed I was by the opulent splendor of their apartment. She said, "We cannot afford this apartment, even if it's true that we are rich. Rajeev's father bought it for us, and technically he owns it. He is a big industrialist back in India. He is rich beyond one's dreams." She gestured for me to sit at the table and then she gave each of us a glass of sherry wine.
"This is the best sherry in the world," Krishna said. "It's also the most expensive. Sherry and clothes are how I spend Rajeev's money, but trust me, it barely makes a dent."
We drank our sherry, had seconds, and had wonderful girl talk. I had missed that. It had been a long time since I had a friend like Krishna, and we became fast friends, taking to each other like ducks to water.
I asked her about how she met Rajeev and it was when they were students together at Yale. Rajeev wanted an Indian girl, and there were not that many to choose from. But he swept her off her feet, and she is convinced he is madly in love with her. I could tell from body language alone that she is right: He does love her with all his heart.
She asked about Chris and I opened up to her. I told her about my job, how I almost lost it, and what I did to keep it. I was embarrassed to tell her about those things, but Krishna listened attentively, nodding at all the right places, giving sympathy at all the right places, and smiling at the right places in the story.
Krishna looked at me. She said, in a hushed tone, "Rajeev likes to watch real porn in his man cave. I know, because he tells me about it later."
I wondered why she had suddenly blurted that out. I stayed silent, looking at her, waiting for her to continue. She was nervous, seemed fidgety, poured us each a third glass of sherry, but said nothing and looked down at the table, thinking.
