Will They Cheat?

Jim sat in front of a studio audience on a leather couch. The chubby fellow, with a receding hairline, donned a nice business suit. His fingers and wrist decorated with gold. While showing a wide grin, he waved to the applause.

The silver-headed host stood at the edge of the platform with a microphone in hand. "Welcome back toooo..."

The audience shouted in unison, "Will! They! Cheat!"

The host showed his million dollar smile. "I'm your host Bob Sayjack. This is the show that puts relationships at risk with an opportunity to earn an all-expense paid trip toooooo..."

The audience, again, on cue, shouted, "Hawaii!"

"That's right," Bob said. "The show where husbands and wives buy unsuspecting spouses a trip to the spa, in hopes they can refrain from cheating. Our therapists are trained in the art of seduction, our oil is an aphrodisiac. Can the spouse make it through the massage without giving in? Or, will they be wooed out of their towel on live TV? Stay tuned and find out."

A round of applause broke out.

"Our first couple hails from Denver, Colorado. They've been married five years," Bob said. "He is a real estate agent while his wife, Rita, is an aspiring musician." Bob turned to the husband. "Jim, why do you have so much faith in your wife?"

"She has a strong will," Jim said aloud before shyly admitting, "and she doesn't get, ummm, aroused easily."

"Oh..." Bob looked back to the crowd with a droopy expression of pity. "Is she asexual?"

Jim's head sunk further with each heavy nod. He quickly perked up though, saying, "But, at least we'll get a free vacation out of it."

The crowd erupted with cheers.

Bob patted down the noise down, quieting the crowd. He placed his hand to his ear, listening to the hearing device. "Okay. We are being told that Rita has just arrived to the spa. Let's go there and check out what transpires."

***

Rita swung open the acrylic doors and entered the spa. The tan blonde, dark roots, had an apple shape: slim shoulders, wide hips, but a firm body. She headed to the receptionist. "Hello," she said in a gleeful voice.

The golden-haired receptionist looked up. His muscles bulged through his white work shirt. He had a square jaw that added to his fairytale-prince look. "Yes?"

"My, um, husband made an appointment for me."

The man typed into his computer before asking, "Mrs. Oranni?"

Rita nodded. "That's me."

"Alright." The man dug through his drawer and pulled out a pamphlet. "I'll need you to sign a few forms and we can get started."

"What are the forms for?"

"Just a formality. Make sure you're not allergic to the lotion..." the man said. "...anything like that."

"People will sue for anything these days." Rita signed off without reading.

"That's why we have to do it."

***

"What Rita doesn't know is..." Bob said to the audience. "...she just gave her consent to be shown on live TV."

The crowd applauded, whistled, and catcalled at the screen.

"Jim..." Bob spun to the husband. "...how do you think your wife did so far?"

Jim nodded. "It was a breeze. This'll be easy."

"I thought I heard a little stutter from her." Bob looked to the rafters. "Can we play that again?"

("My, um, husband made an appointment for me," Rita said.)

"One more time, please," Bob uttered.

("My, um, husband made an appointment for me.")

"You hear 'um'. You hear that?" Bob asked.

Jim folded his arms. "You're looking too far into it."

"Well..." Bob wheeled back to the audience. "Let's find out."

***

In the room, Rita removed her clothes in front of a locker, hanging them neatly on the hooks. She slipped out of her thong sandals. Her size 8 feet were topped with a sky-blue pedicure. She pushed down her form-fitting jeans and pulled her blue tank-top over her head. She hopped out of her undergarments as well. Her golden tan, lacking any lines, covered her perky breasts and plump backside. With everything stowed away, she wrapped a cool thin sheet around her, which felt smooth on her bare skin. She lay flat across the massage table, face down in the stirrup.

The room was serene, quiet. Candles filled the air with a clean vanilla aroma. The soothing sounds of a waterfall played from speakers mounted in the four corners of the room.

The door opened. Footsteps approached.

Rita never once looked up. Her head remained down, eyes closed.

"Where do you feel the most stiffness?" a man asked, his voice rough but silky.

"Everywhere," Rita laughed.

"Well, alright, let's begin," the man said. "I'm Tex, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Tex. Rita..." Rita let out a relieved sigh as his strong hands massaged her shoulders. Her brain released chemicals, her pain diminishing. He kneaded her biceps, forearms, all the way down to her hands. She focused on her thoughts, but all she could think about was how great it felt, almost titillating. "Oh, that feels so good," she said in a moan, which surprised even her.

Tex chuckled. He lifted her bony ankle, bending her leg at the knee, and rubbed her slender foot. He started at the top and massaged down her soft sole before reversing the motion.

Rita flinched and wiggled her toes. "That tickles..."

"Sorry." Tex showed a sly grin. With her head down, unable to see him, he whipped out his thick, semi-hard cock. He looked to camera in the corner of the room, quietly laughed, and shushed those watching. He rubbed his cock sideways across the soles of Rita's feet and tapped it on the soft surface. After stroking himself, he put his cock back in his elastic pants. He used his hands, once again, starting up her calves to the back of her thighs. He pushed up uncomfortably close to her round ass, which awoke Rita from her pleasure.

"Hey!" Rita said. "Watch them hands."

"I apologize," Tex replied. "Can I get you to roll over?"

Rita held the thin fabric over her breasts as she turned. She strangely eyed him, the blonde receptionist, with a heightened brow but finally rested back, looked to the ceiling.

Tex casually went about his work. He made his way up her ankle, calf, and thigh. As he eased around her side, his strong bulge brushed past Rita's knuckles.

Rita jerked her hand away and gawked at Tex's erection poking through his thin pants. She leaned up on her elbows, holding the sheet above her breasts. She furrowed a brow. "You want to calm yourself?"

"I'm sorry..." Tex's fingers slid underneath the bottom of Rita's sheet and grazed up her inner thigh. "...I just enjoy my job."

"What are you doing?" Rita snatched his wrist before flashing the big diamond on her finger. "I'm married."

"Oh, so you're one of those types?" Tex proceeded up her leg.

Rita stared directly into Tex's blue eyes, reeled in. Her grip loosened around his wrist. "What do you mean 'those types?"

"The type that believes happiness comes from material things." Tex's fingers tickled her tight slit. "The type that stays with men who can't satisfy them, ultimately forgetting what true bliss really is."

Rita panted. She released the sheet from her breasts and it crumpled to her waist. Her nipples stiffened by the moment. "Oh yeah?"

***

"Yikes!" Bob exaggerated a worried expression while revolving back to Jim. "Jim, it's not looking good for you."

Jim perked on the edge of the leather couch, right leg bouncing. "No. No, I guess it's not."

"But! It's not quiet over yet, ladies and gentlemen," Bob reminded the crowd. "Now, Jim, I'm sure you've seen the show before, so you know where we're going, right?"

Jim wiped his sweaty palms on his slacks. "The 'O' round."

"That's right," Bob said to the attendance. "The 'O' round!"

The audience robotically applauded with freakishly wide smiles.

"For those home, or here tonight, watching for the first time," Bob explained. "The 'O' round, if Jim decides to accept, will play out until one of the participants has an orgasm. If our therapist climaxes first, the couple—Jim and Rita—will receive a brand new car. But, if Rita has an orgasm—"

"Not happening." Jim shook his head with vehemence.

"—then they win nothing." Bob rotated back to Jim. "Of course, you can always walk away now before the sex begins."

"Not a chance. I didn't come here to leave empty handed." Jim folded his arms. "We're going to the 'O' round."

"The 'O' round!" Bob declared merrily.

The crowd chanted, "Oh! Oh! Oh!"

***

As Tex rubbed the top of her clit, gentle and slow, Rita squeezed her thighs together, trapping his hand and restricting his movement. "I don't know..." she breathlessly uttered.

"Its okay." Tex guided her down to her back, flat across the table. He whipped the sheet off her body, leaving her bare to the room, which tickled her nether regions. "You deserve this," he said.

Rita opened her legs slightly, allowing his hand to continue. On her back, she glanced to the left and found his bulge in her face. She ogled at it, wandering the size beneath, before shakily sliding her fingers in the bands of his pants. She inched them down, little by little, until his giant cock sprung out. Her eyes brightened upon sight. She shot a nervous look up to him while cradling his balls in her palm. With her right hand, she gripped his thick shaft. His member pulsated in her hand. Her eyes drifted back to the purple head of his erection. She swallowed hard, eased forward, and slipped the tip in her mouth.

Tex thrust his cock in and out of her tensed lips. He rambunctiously rubbed her clit, which gave life to her bobbing head.

Rita finally withdrew, gasped for air.

Tex stepped away, grabbed her legs, and positioned her sideways on the table. Her back lay across the surface while he took her lower half in his arms. He stuck his thumbs in the creases of her knees, holding her legs in place, and entered her warm, wet pussy.

Rita clawed the cushiony massage table. She curled her blue painted toes as he filled her to the hilt. "Mmmm..." She licked her lips. Her breasts bounced with each impact, dark nipples became taut.

Tex held Rita's right ankle up, giving him more leverage, while her left leg wrapped around his waist.

Rita covered her flushed face, breathed heavily from behind her palms. She no longer thought of her husband, her adultery. As a matter of fact, her thoughts were drowned by an unfamiliar sensation, a tingling. Her body lit up, threatening to blow a fuse.

Tex pounded away, adding more speed, power. He released her right ankle and reached down to rub her clit. He massaged up and down and in circles.

Rita's right leg quaked against Tex's shoulder. An electric wave tickled through her body. She clenched her feet once again and then stretched her skinny toes. An itch built inside of her, like waters pushing against a dam. Her face flickered: brows scrunched before softening. She gulped down a moan but released a soft whine.

"Did you just cum?" Tex suddenly stopped. He stroked his cock with a suspicious look.

Rita caught her breath and shook her head. "No..."

***

Bob spun on the heels of his shiny loafers and pointed at Jim. "What do you think, Jim?"

Jim slouched on the sofa, defeated. With little belief, he answered, "No. Of course not."

"Let's take a look at it, shall we?" Bob directed everyone's eyes back to a large screen. "If you see right here, curling the toes is a give-away for some."

(In the clip, Rita splayed her right leg over Tex's shoulder, her left leg still wrapped around Tex's waist. As she tossed her head back, she clenched both feet, pointing her big toes.)

"That's not always the case," Jim argued, lifelessly.

"Okay..." Bob shrugged. "But, what about the twitching of the face, seen here?"

(Rita watched as Tex's cock plunged into her. Her breasts jiggled. She tensed her face, as though about to sneeze, but quickly released it in a faint whine.)

"That is clearly a face you make when you're grossed out," Jim said. "Play the clip again."

(As Rita glanced down, her brows slanted inward and wrinkled her forehead.)

"See! Right there," Jim continued proving his point, "She looks down, sees his cock, and frowns. That's all it was. If anything, your guy pulled away because he felt the end coming."

Bob's smile never wavered. He looked back to the crowd. "What do you think audience? Should we let it continue?"

There was a resounding "Yes!" from the crowd.

Bob motioned to the screen again. "The show must continue."

***

"What's wrong?" Rita sat up on the edge of the table. "Do you not want me to cum?"

"Of course," Tex said. "But, I want to know your cumming."

"I'll make sure you know." Rita flashed a smile. She gripped the nape of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. They locked lips, kissing intimately, before breaking apart. He guided her backward on the massage table: hands and knees with her apple bottom in the air. She looked at the far wall, anxiously anticipating his entrance.

Tex tapped his hard cock on her wet pussy-lips. He then thrust forward, entering her with a strong heave.

Rita huffed, gnawed on her bottom lip. She squeezed the massage table and rocked with his rhythm. Her eyes stared straight ahead, heavy with passion.

Tex wadded her blonde hair in his fist and jerked her head back. His motion intensified, shaking not only her foundation but the table as well.

"Ah!" Rita moaned. Her skin prickled. Her heart beat rapidly. She was losing control of her body and couldn't imagine what was coming next, an explosion of sorts.

Tex gripped her shoulders and held her in place for each powerful impact.

Rita's eyes watered. Her sun-kissed breasts swayed. The tickle was too much to bear. She squinted, mouth hung open. She hunched forward and finally released herself, grunting and squirting all over his cock.

"How does that feel, baby?"

"I'm, ah—" Rita tried to speak but an uncontrollably grunt forced its way out. Her entire body quivered briefly before locking up. "I'm cumming-ing-ing—Ggghhh!"

Tex continued his assault while, unbeknownst to Rita, flexing his biceps toward the camera.

Rita lurched away from Tex's constant hammering, almost falling off the other side of the massage table. "Okay... Okay..." She kicked her legs up and curled into a fetal position.

The room became quiet once again. The rushing waterfall continued through the speakers. The smell of vanilla still filled the room.

Tex expelled a labored breath, and to the camera, said, "Back to you, Bob."

Rita arched a brow and looked up to Tex. Her face was red, blonde hair frayed. Through heavy breaths, she asked, "Who the fuck is Bob?"