Biz Trip Brings Out Wife

I was surprised to hear my wife read Ch. 1 leaving her feeling "sexy, loved, and cherished." Nervously I asked if she had any requests for the next chapter; if she wanted me to "tone down" what happened. She said I should do this my way, "to let it rip." She said my worry was a waste of time. We'll soon see...

*****

If you've not read Chapter 1 of this series, it is worth the endeavor to learn of my wife's coming out while I was out of town. If nothing else, what transpires over the coming chapters will make more sense...

The next day my work sessions started at 8 a.m. sharp. I hardly slept, finally jerking off to the events of the prior evening around 3 a.m. in an attempt to pacify myself. And while I slept a little after that, 7 a.m. couldn't come fast enough for me. I had one thing in mind: get through this day and back to the balcony.

Outside of waiting for my kids to be delivered, this was the longest day of my life. I was constantly distracted not only by what happened last night, but fantasizing about what could happen tonight. Would the girl show? Would my wife want to be involved again? I couldn't get the memory of my wife sounding so wanton, so hungry for me, out of my head. Would she be ashamed or even mad at me for this?

It wouldn't be the first time she resented something sexual with me afterward.

But, she did practically beg me over the phone to fuck her mouth so she could describe herself taking another cock in her pussy - the tiniest, tightest, most delicious and perfect love chamber I have ever experienced. This was an enormous, actually unbelievable, step for her to take. And because of these conflicting thoughts I was worthless the entire day - half worrying, half fantasizing.

Several of my colleagues approached me asking if I was OK. They were genuinely concerned. Those in the know were aware that my wife and I had problems, and that those problems frequently escalated in the past when I was out of town on these business trips.

Trying to salve their concern proved difficult. I found myself explaining everything was fine, but I would probably be leaving the last meeting early. And, God as my witness I tried, but I couldn't keep a Cheshire grin off my face when explaining this.

The good news was my close friends could see something good was going on for me. The bad news was with an explanation like that, they were probably thinking I had something going on the side. And in a way....I guess I did.

But I just couldn't get into the events of the previous night, even with one of my closest friends. This was personal between me and my wife. And I wasn't about to risk the chance of negating something like this happening in the future if somehow she found out I had shared what happened. But mixed with that fear were a few things Mariah had told me the night before.

First, it sounded as if someone driving by could have seen her if her description of the slowing car was accurate. If this were the case, she'd already outed herself. So maybe I shouldn't be so worried about telling my friends about something amazing that happened.

Be that as it may I decided to adhere to the adage: "when in doubt, don't."

The second thing was at the end of our conversation Mariah told me, "one way or another, she will show up tomorrow, the better to see me with."

I tried to think of what that could possibly mean. How could she know the other woman would show? She couldn't possibly know that, so what is this "better to see me with," stuff?

All I knew was, I needed to find out, and this day was taking a year.

Finally, after the last speaker I excused myself a bit early, at 8:30 p.m. As I said my goodbyes I could see several of my colleagues speaking to one another under chin. It was hard not to imagine they had concluded I was off to see a woman. They were right, just in the wrong context.

But there was no way I was going to take time to explain it then. Little did I know I too was soon to face an unexpected context, one I would want explained sooner rather than later. In retrospect, I should have paid more attention to the implications of what happened the night before.

The way she described what she was doing. The way she encouraged me to picture her, watch her. The fact she actually displayed herself while doing this. If nothing else, that she had enjoined in this type of fantasy with me should have tipped me off more than the obvious was afoot.

I didn't heed the clear recollection that any type of fantasy sharing in the past tended to shut her down. Going from that to this, well, I should have realized she had started a new chapter in her life; an intense and unpredictable chapter.

A chapter, as I would begin to find out, of surprises. And I now realize perhaps a moment of consideration of this fact: "not all surprises are good;" warranted contemplation after the events of the prior evening.

Blinded to this, I ran back to my hotel and engaged in what my wife has chastised me for in the past: over preparing. But tonight was different, I was preparing only for myself, to make tonight as enjoyable and fulfilling as possible, and if my preparations were unnecessary, so be it.

I put on a tight fitting bikini brief. I like small briefs. I have something of a package and the way they constantly hug my cock and balls is a turn on. If not too distracted by work or other obligations, these things keep me in a semi-erect state most of the time. I like that, and what it makes me think about when thinking about the perfectly crafted body that is my wife's.

These fantasies hit hardest, so to speak, at work. I have a custom stand up desk which hits me at pelvis height when I lean into it. A few feet in front of me on the walls are wedding pictures from over 10 years ago. I can't help notice my enticing little Mariah is even sexier now than she was then.

There is one picture with her sided by her mom and dad. She is perfectly quaffed and made up, in her wedding gown, with bright red accentuating her full lips. Her expression almost devious, mouth curled at each end without actually smiling, oblivious to her parents on either side.

I should feel guilty her parents are right there watching, as I imagine her crouching underneath the table top, engulfing my swollen cock as I pretend to focus on the market on my computer screen.

Other times I picture her leaning back on the large cushioned bar seat I have in my office...lifting her dress, exposing the fact she is not wearing panties, her mound just before cleanly shaved – pulling my face to her delicacy. I run my tongue deliberately and thoroughly over and aside her lips and clit. And then push in her opening as far as I can go, spreading her lips with my fingers. Just long enough to ensure she is fully wet.

My pants lowered only enough to expose my engorgement; I open her surgically with it in slow motion. Speeding up, knowing this will have to go fast during work hours, I lower my muscular body over her to keep her seated while punching into that tiny cunt harder and faster with each stroke. Pressing my hand down hard to cover her mouth - muting her increasing moans forecasting her impending orgasm – knowing no one else in the office dare hear what the boss is "up" to.

Other times I imagine turning her over and positioning her right knee on the soft stool, and the other spread wide a few inches higher on the desk. Her perfect pussy and ass pushed up, her tits hanging down, still held by the dress. I step up behind and relieve her of the shoulder straps. Her heavy breasts hang down, soon swinging in time with my thrusts - she is perched high and exposed, but solidly locked in position with one hand clasping the stool back, and the other firmly planted in front of her knee on the desk.

She is rocking with me, biting her bottom lip, trying to contain emanation. But as I push in harder and faster, she reverses her motion, meeting my every thrust. I reach around with both hands and message her breasts as they swing back and forth. As her legs begin to cinch, I grab her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. I begin to pinch harder, pulling her swaying tits with light pressure in the opposite direction of my thrusting.

Now that she is warmed up and aching to be filled, these stronger attentions come at a perfect time.

As she gasps I can tell she wants release, and I pull straight down, hard on her engorged nipples, almost pulling her breasts away from her chest as I silently deliver quick methodical blows deep into her now dripping slit. I can tell I am pushing into her cervix with each thrust, but she is so close to climax she is overcome and whispers to me to fuck her harder.

I hold her previously pendulous breasts in this position, her own thrusting creating movement against her body now. I increase tempo and deliver more penetrating thrusts into her. She is growling. Mariah is trying so hard not to scream out, as I push her over the edge of an abyss she wanted to avoid with others about. And just then I lean over, to inform her casually I am now going to overflow this pussy with my mess... and she will have to hurry to the car so no one can see my cum running down her legs...

Mmmm. Yes, I like this underwear.

Back to Philadelphia...

Once dressed, or better said undressed, in the briefs and an unbuttoned dress shirt left on from the day, I went to the balcony and positioned my laptop on a small table kitty cornered to the young woman's deck across the way. This left me with an unobstructed view of anything to take place in her room.

By now it was 9:00 p.m. And unfortunately there was no sign of anyone present across the alley's expanse. The shades were drawn, no lights were on.

'Drat. What to do?' I thought to myself.

I quickly formulated a plan. I would call my wife and pretend the young woman was there, running through the events of the previous evening but changing them up a bit.

'Who cares?' I thought. 'I'll just make it up as I go along.' The point is me and Mariah, and how we are fantasizing about each other. This unknown girl has nothing to do with it. '

I waited about 10 minutes to gather my strength, courage, and best acting ability, so I could call my lusty bride and, well...start lying.

When she answered the phone I began to talk about the woman I was "watching" but Mariah was curt and interrupted. "Hey, something is going on right now and I can't talk."

I heard something in the background. It was faint but sounded like a male voice, I couldn't make out much else, but the tone, timbre and wording were tempered and slow. The voice sounded calming but instructional – matter of fact.

"Mariah, who is there?" I asked. I did not like the way this was going so far.

"We have a little problem and there is something I have set up right now. I'll shoot you an email in about an hour. I've got to go... but I love

you

," she said, emphasizing the word 'you,' and hanging up.

Maybe you'd have to be me, or maybe not, to imagine the things going through my mind at that point. Our marriage had been rocky. We were supposed to be communicating via phone intimately tonight. I thought if nothing else the, 'one way or another she'll show,' comment had at least cemented that.

And now I'm sitting alone on a balcony in bikini briefs with a diminishing hard on wandering who the hell was at my house with my wife!

I called home immediately without answer. I didn't bother to leave a message and called right back. As the phone was ringing the second time I received an email:

"I told you I would email in an hour. I will. Just remember I am devoted to YOU."

I was frantic now. I had been through these thoughts many times before: 'What was she doing? Who was she doing it with? And what the fuck was that last part supposed to mean?!?!?'

I emailed back within seconds, "WTF is going on?!?!?!?"

No reply. I called again. The phone had been unplugged and went directly to voice mail.

I said earlier my day at work took a year. The next hour; a millennia. And throughout this time I was frozen. I was glued to the screen, actually thankful that the woman next door had not shown up. I couldn't have lifted my head if she were shooting golf balls from her twat hitting me in the face.

And finally, a few minutes after 10 p.m., I received an email:

"Max, I am so sorry. Please know that I love you and only you. But last night my actions created a problem for our family. I have confessed that while I was on the phone with you, you had nothing to do with what I did, that while you didn't resist you never asked me to do anything I was doing.

Our family is in a real bind here and there is only one way out. We have to follow the instructions below. I don't see another choice. No matter what happens remember I love you.

I have been instructed to insert the following here:"

At this point I swallowed hard and stopped reading . I looked across the alley at the darkened room, a pit growing in my gut – tonight wasn't going to be like last night. I knew, deep down I didn't want to see the rest. But there was no way I could stop myself. It was all I had to try to figure out what was going on. The email continued:

"Max. I saw your hot little wife playing with herself driving last night. I parked down the road and took my vid cam into your front yard. It was real dark and I made it right up to the bedroom window and she didn't even notice.

Boy she sure seemed distracted, ya know? I now have a great little movie with sound, as your wife's calling out rung through the cracked window next to her, perfect fit for the mic in case you ever need know sicko.

I thought Mariah was innocent and cold and probably frigid. Hah. Not the first time I've been wrong. With the headset on and her enthusiasm and the way she came, gagging herself on that fake dick...well I was actually a little surprised to find out she was on the phone with you given she is obviously an exhibitionist slut. I figured she were talking to someone more exciting than you.

I'm glad it turned out to be you though. Really really glad.

Anyways mariah's pervert display is just not what I think is appropriate in such a nice neighborhood. And very against the law also. So all the sudden I got a big moral dilemma here. By legality and all, I have turn over my video to the authorities, with a formal complaint signed by everyone in the neighborhood.

But then I would have to show it to them so they knew what they were complaining about. Knowing some of the sickos around her I guess some would refuse to sign a complaint over this. But given how smoking hot Mariah is, and the things she was doing, nobody in this neighborhood would refuse to view the whole thing, even the bible thumpers.

Hell, I bet most would want to watch it more than once! I bet I could make a pretty penny just selling copies. And that's even before the internet action.

I call this Plan A.

But Plan A would ruin the reputation of your whole family that is liked around here. You would have go somewhere else and start all over, maybe even change your name, or at least your little cock hungry wife would. I respect Mariah but good god lordy man I have been hard as a rock the last 24 hours. Too bad you were just listening but this girl knows how to take it! You really should see it!

So if I show this I uphold the law and probably protect some minors from being scarred for life by whatever you two dream up next. And maybe I can even make some money along the way. But it would destroy you guys. Some of the God fearing Christians in the neighborhood probably try to get your kids away from you perverts.

And you guys don't deserve that. I don't think like those prudes and would hate to see that happen.

This morning, after giving your wife a good fucking in my head I figured even if you didn't know you were doing it you shared your wife with me last night. And hearing what Mariah was saying you obviously like to watch. So the way I see it, you let me watch, I figure I should return the favor and then we'll be all square. And nobody needs to be the wiser.

That sounds logical enough right? So here's the deal

You're about to get an invitation to meeting in your email. Mariahs gonna be asking how you are getting on and permission for a thing or two. Your muted so type your answers in the comment bar.

You don't have to come in here or answer or can complain. But if you do, I that will take that as you refusing to my fair offer to fix this. At that point I will get out of here and pursue Plan A.

Invite is coming. If you have not entered the web room in 5 minutes I will leave, allowing you two to do whatever on your last night as a respected family around here.

Respectfully,

Nobody

P.S. I have made Mariah promise not to tell you or nobody who I am. If she does I am going back to Plan A, so don't ever even ask."

As I finished the letter I was enraged and terrified at the same time. The response was fight or flight and I immediately puked over the railing of the balcony. I thought about calling the police or friends to go save her. But quickly realized that would just expedite Plan A. My heart was pounding and brain racing, but I didn't have long to go down that road.

A webinar invitation hit my inbox just when I realized I had to piss so bad I felt I would burst. I had been drinking juice and waiting on the balcony almost 2 hours. I leapt up, thinking about trying to race to the bathroom, but I only had 5 minutes. I leaned against the railing, between the skinny posts almost 12 inches apart, released my now flaccid member and let go. It was so dark in the alley I couldn't see if anyone was below, not that I had time to care.

This probably only took 2 minutes but it couldn't go fast enough...I had to get into that web conference and see what the fuck was going on. When the page loaded the first thing I noticed was a text entry at the top right:

"Welcome Max, thanks for joining us, Mariah." I felt as if I would be sick again, but then I noticed the image on the screen.

The view was dark but clear enough to see it was our bedroom. The strung red chili pepper lights we use when making love the only source of illumination. But I could see they had been moved closer to the camera. And from the camera position, a bright light shone clearly illuminating the surrounding area. I surmised there was a computer in our room, probably hosting the conference site, with a camera embedded in or attached to the screen.

On the bottom of my computer screen I could see the lip of my wife's chest of drawers. I was obviously looking at a camera view perched on the back of her dresser, but something was very different. From the straight on view of the camera angle I could tell the dresser had been moved. It had been drug across the floor in front of and against our bedroom door. In this position the long, high mirror attached to the back of the dresser would prohibit anyone from entering or leaving the room, even if the door had been left open.

'What the fuck is this?' shot through my head, a scowl blazoned on my face.

It would be difficult for Mariah to move the dresser out of the way. She was trapped with this maniac in our bedroom! But given our predicament and her seeming agreement to go along, why would it be necessary to rearrange our bedroom furniture?

I could hear over the speakers the faint sound again. Even with the sound turned all the way up what little I could make out was an unintelligible male voice. It was steady and sounded kind of like chanting.

"Oh my god," I thought. "How can I stop this?" I didn't have much time to consider. Mariah stepped into view.

She was striking. Completely naked, her perfect breasts full and large. Her nipples were hard as if they had been pinched and pulled. Her hair was tied up and she was wearing heavy makeup, as if preparing to go out on the town and seduce with her sexuality. To top it off, her divine lips painted a deep ruby red.