It was 4:30. He knew he shouldn't have waited so long to call, but he had hoped he wouldn't need to call. Picking up the handset his fingers found the familiar digits. After three rings she answered.
"Hey there sexy, why aren't you gone yet?" Kylie said, curiosity flavoring her words.
He swallowed. Scott knew he was over reacting, but only a little. They hadn't missed a Friday night dinner date since they started them four years prior. They'd taken a break from them when Kay was pregnant with Christine; but they'd resumed them not too long after Chrissy was born. "I'm going to be late," he grumbled. The four or five seconds of silence felt like an eternity to him.
"How late?" came her reply.
"We should order pizza tonight," he said, pissed at himself more than she could ever be.
"The kids are at moms and our reservation is all set...you can't handle this on Monday? Or even tomorrow morning?"
"The customer is calling me in about ten minutes. He needs to go over another set of changes to the design. He said he needs to get this nailed down today. I know if we can't help him he'll just take the work to Belko, and I won't be the one to cost us a half million dollar job. I tried pushing it off, but the old man is set in his ways. I'm sorry," Scott stammered.
"No no. I'm sorry. I know how important this project is. I'll see if my parents can watch them again next week, ok?"
"What about tonight?" he queried.
"I'm bummed but not pissed. We order a couple of pizzas when you get home, and we'll put a serious hurtin' on the twelve pack of Sam's I picked up today."
Scott never failed to be impressed at how easy Kay rolled with it. Nothing ever seemed to rattle her or throw her off her game.
"So how late are talking?" she asked.
"I'll be doing the changes while he goes through them on the phone. I don't anticipate the whole thing to take longer than two hours, two and a half at the extreme."
"So you should be home around sevenish?"
"Sounds about right; six thirty could be an optimistic goal."
"I'll plan for seven. Go get ready for your call so you can get home okay. I love you."
"I love you too," he answered, and then the line clicked dead.
Scott opened the AutoCAD drawing and tried to determine just what layout change they could possibly want to make this time. As he felt his frustration grow the phone rang.
"Beltford and Grimmel, how can I help you?" he asked into the receiver.
"Scott, is that you?" the grizzled voice on the other end asked.
"Yes Mr. Waterson, this is Scott." The old man was fastidious when it came to the design layout of his projects. There had already been a half dozen changes and Scott wasn't sure just what else could be tried.
"Scott my boy, I just wanted to call you and tell you what a fine job you've done. You've put up with every ounce of bullshit I've given you without one single gripe and that isn't easy to do, I know. This was the last bit of it. There is no design change, I just wanted to personDallia tell you thank you, and let you know that the paperwork will be in your office first thing Monday morning. We're looking forward to working with you."
Scott sat in stunned silence as Mr. Waterson continued to heap praise at Beltford and Grimmel and rambled on about various other projects that have not started as smoothly. After fifteen minutes of this he couldn't decide whether he should be pissed at this blatant waste of his time or thankful at the sincere praise.
"Scott? Are you there?" came the old mans voice.
"Yes Mr. Waterson, I was just going over the layout..."
"Bullshit...you were zoning out an old man's ramblings, and that's fine, I'd do the same. Again I thank you for your diligence. We'll be in touch." Then the line went dead.
Scott looked at the clock and was amazed that so little time had passed, it was only five minutes of five. Quickly shutting down his computer he ran the numbers through his head. Kay didn't expect him until seven, six thirty at the earliest. Leaving now he'd be home around five thirty; he could make it twenty after if he wanted to risk a ticket. Deciding that an hour to an hour and a half early was better than half that time plus a speeding ticket, he decided to play it safe. Dinner at Bellisimo's was still out of the question, but pizza and a night without kids was still very much on the menu. He jumped in his truck full of anticipation of what the night could bring, failing to imagine half of what would transpire.
"Not too shabby," thought Scott as he turned onto his street at twenty three past five. "I'll be in the driveway in two minutes and in Kay's arms in three."
Entering the driveway he pulled around Kylie's Jeep Wrangler intending to park in front of the garage behind the house. When he got there, his spot was taken by an unfamiliar blue Nissan Pathfinder. Killing the engine he stared for a moment, trying to jog his memory and see if a name could be attached to this vehicle, but he came up blank. Exiting his truck he walked around the strange SUV and placed his hand on the hood: it was still warm.
Scott decided to enter the house through the back door. Stepping into the mud room, he slipped off his sneakers and walked through the kitchen towards the living room, curious as to the whereabouts ok Kylie. No sound emanated from the living room, but he peered in anyway, his belief that she wasn't there verified. Standing mannequin still he listened, and was rewarded with a sound from upstairs. It was a moan. It was Kylie moaning, in the way she did during foreplay.
His cock grew to its full six and a half inches with the next moan that filled his ears. He could picture her lying across the bed nude, her chestnut hair spilling around her head in a silken puddle, her legs spread as she slowly worked her blue vibrator over her pink wetness.
Not wanting to reveal himself to her he stole silently up the stairs, halting at the fourth step when his mind was rocked by a thought that had been pushed from his mind by the lustful images of his wife in various poses of self pleasure: whose Pathfinder was parked in our driveway?
Standing dead still his heart hammered in his chest as new images flooded his mind: Images of another man having his way with his wife. Bending her over on their marital bed and stuffing her from behind as Kylie clawed at the sheets in the throes of passion. Kylie bouncing atop this mysterious lover, her 36B breasts jostling in time to their rhythmic fuck.
Though he did enjoy these images to a degree, the idea of this happening without his knowledge is what tainted them for him. As if on cue his fears were confirmed. Another noise drifted down the stairway to his waiting ears, and it wasn't Kylie. Certain now that another man was in his bed with his wife Scott crept up the remaining stairs, intent up catching them in the act.
With cat like stealth he crept down the hall, slowly approaching the three quarter closed bedroom door, the two different moans differentiating themselves further the closer he got. Entering their bedroom, the bed was on the left wall, with their dressers and closet on the wall the door swung to. This would afford Scott an unobstructed view of half of their bed from his current vantage point with his next step. Steeling himself he slid forward and peered inside through the cracked door, the vision before him making him feel like a prophet or fortune teller; be it one with a skewed view.
Kylie was on her knees facing away from him at an angle. The upper body of her five foot ten inch frame was resting on the mattress, her head turned from him looking towards a window; her ass in the air, her wet pussy being filled by a long black cock.
Scott watched with a combination of shock and voyeuristic pleasure as his wife took what looked to be at least eight inches of thick cock into her hot pussy without so much as a whimper of pain, only moans of utter satisfaction. With much effort he forced his gaze to leave the heavy body of his wife that was clearly building to an amazing climax from the deep slow fucking she was receiving, to the body of the one that was filling his wife with more cock than he carried between his legs.
Her lover, though kneeling, looked to be no taller than Kylie: the upper end of the five foot scale, and surely no more than one hundred and twenty pounds, if that. Her blonde hair felt across her delicate shoulders in a cascade of mild curls, ending at the middle of her back. She had a tattoo barely visible above the leather thong, which Scott assumed was the harness for the faux cock she was fucking Kylie with, that looked like a rose and thorny vines. The rest of her back was an image of perfection, marred not by ink or blemish. Her figure was an hourglass, though not nearly as thin in the middle, but lacking of curves she was not. Her body carried the same bronze hue from head to toe as far as he could tell. She was either a master of the sprayless tan, or no stranger to sunbathing in the nude. Scott was certain it was the latter.
He watched transfixed as this blonde goddess continued to fuck his wife, uncertain why the rage he felt when he was sure a man was in his bed had fled as soon as he saw it was a woman. He stared as the slow and steady assault on his wife's pussy lead her toward orgasm.
Unaware of when it had happened, Scott suddenly realized he was slowly stroking his rock hard member in time with the slow thrusts of his wife's blonde lover. He gaped in true voyeur fashion as Kylie arched her back, tossing her head about as her right hand found her supple breast, her climax imminent, and her moans uncontrolled.
