Click 3

Comments welcome; flames cheerfully ignored.

********************

"Click."

It was the "click" that hurt the most.

Not the "click" as the bedroom door closed behind my wife, Sally, and her lover, but the "click" of her locking the door after she closed it.

I will never forget that sound. And I will never forget the other sounds I heard from outside the locked door.

But to start at the beginning.

After dealing for several years with her sadness over the departure of her long-term lover, Sally wrote to the man who introduced both of us to cuckolding. Ted has kept in touch with me over the years, always asking about Sally, about our family, and about Sally's work. When she considered starting her own business, he offered his expertise in the field. Sally accepted his advice cautiously, not sure if she wanted things to get sexual again, and not sure if he wanted that, either.

As they continued to email and to speak, Sally began to pepper the conversations with subtle sexual references, which Ted returned equally subtlely. Always the gentleman, he never pushed or even advanced the conversation in a sexual direction. Finally, when she had begun her business and was very excited about the new challenges, she sent him the following email:

"Looking forward to having an exciting, enthusiastic, optimistic conversation about my new business and life style."

To which Ted responded,

"So then the question only remains if we have the exciting, enthusiastic, optimistic conversation about your new business and life style clothed or naked."

My wife answered,

"Naked, of course."

As she and Ted made plans to meet, she invited me to read their email correspondence, which really excited me. I couldn't wait to see them in bed together again...

I walked up to the bedroom door, closed and locked before me. I heard their voices inside; I could not make out the words, but I could her the tone of their conversation. That conversation did not last long, and suddenly the words were replaced with a sound I could hear very clearly: kissing. Ted and Sally were kissing, just beyond the door.

The kissing continued, paused, then I clearly heard Ted say, "Oh, my." From past experience, I knew that was what he said when he saw my wife's naked tits. The picture was painted for me as clearly as if I was in the room: Sally had taken off her shirt and her bra, and her breasts - my wife's tits - were now in Ted's hands.

The kissing resumed... but it was different. Not so much kissing as... sucking. I heard Sally gasp, and I realized I was listening to Ted sucking my wife's nipples. I wanted desperately to see, but with a "click" my wife had locked me out.

When Ted and Sally made plans for their "exciting, enthusiastic, optimistic conversation," they decided that something was different, and they liked it. They felt that this was no longer a date arranged by me, but something they wanted to do together. The more they talked about it, the more they realized that they did not want their date to be a performance for me; they wanted it to be for them, and them alone. So Ted broke it to me: I was welcome to join them for lunch when we met, but when they went to bed I would not be included. Ted suggested - strongly - that I reserve a suite in the hotel, since it would look very strange for me to be hanging around in a hotel hallway for hours.

Kissing, sucking, short and urgent intakes of breath. They say that when a person loses one of his senses, the others become more acute to compensate. I could not see anything but a closed and locked door, but I could tell...

The sound of change and keys jangling: Ted is taking off his pants. The sound of the bedsprings compressing: they - my wife and her lover - are lying down together. Tiny moans, gasps from each of them: they are touching, feeling, stroking each other's sex. My wife, touching another man. Another man, touching my wife. And she locked me out, so they could be alone together.

Quiet for a moment, then THAT sound. The sound my wife makes when a penis enters her. She doesn't make it any other time, and I have never heard any other woman make it. A short, intense intake of her breath; a surprised, pleased and sexual sound. I heard it. It only lasted a second, but it echoed in my head like a cannon-shot. I had not even begun to deal with the huge knot which that sound tied in my guts when Ted groaned a deep, loud, sustained groan. Not an orgasm-sound, but the sound a man makes when he puts his cock deep inside a woman.

Ted and Sally were fucking. Right behind that door. Naked, wet, body-on-body, my wife was giving herself to him and he was... taking her. I should have cried out and told them to stop. I should have pounded on the door and said "No! You can't do that with my wife." I should have said, "No! You can't do that, you're my wife." But I didn't say anything. I pulled down my pants and jerked off, listening to him-fuck-her-and-her-fuck-him.

Ted moaned and groaned, and Sally gasped her little "I'm being fucked" gasps, for... how long? No idea. Then it got quiet, and I heard the hum of her pocket rocket. As bad as it was to listen to Ted being turned on by my wife, it could not compare to the new sounds, the ones of my wife being turned on by Ted. Her gasps grew louder and longer, and the kissing-sucking sounds told me exactly what he was doing to my wife's nipples. I heard him talking to her gently; I could not make out the words, but I knew they were words of admiration and encouragement. He was using his hands, his mouth and his mind to touch my wife, and from the noises she was making, it was working.

Lunch had been torture for me. We ate in a nice restaurant, and Ted included me completely in the conversation, but I knew. We all knew. Sally was wearing a white shirt with a black bra, so the bra was clearly visible through the shirt's material. She had buttoned the shirt high enough to offer only a tiny glimpse of her cleavage, but I saw every time Ted's eyes drifted down, and I knew exactly what he was thinking: soon, she will be mine. Soon, we'll leave her husband behind, and I will have her - all of her.

As we walked to the car for the trip to the hotel, Sally unbuttoned another button. Ted was mesmerized, and made no secret of it. When we got into the hotel room, and the two of them sat facing each other on the couch, he actually reached over and pulled her shirt collar to the side, to give himself a better view. For a brief moment, I was insulted: that was no way for a man to treat my wife! But just as I realized he had every right to do that, Sally looked down and unbuttoned two more buttons for him, then pulled the right side of her shirt open so he could see her entire bra-enclosed breast.

They each made a halfhearted effort to continue the conversation after that, but it was clear that their hearts were not in it. Within two minutes, Sally got up and said, "Let's go in the other room. Without him."

Ted rose, put his arm around my wife's waist, and walked her away from me. I heard the door close, and then I heard that damn sound: "Click."

The soft hum of Sally's vibrator could only be heard when Ted was not talking to her and she was not gasping. So when I heard it clearly for a half-minute or so, I listened carefully, trying to catch what I was missing. But my careful attention was not necessary, because my wife's silence was the buildup to her orgasm. Suddenly she cried out a long, loud and powerful, "Ooohh-Oooooohhhhhhh!", and while my cock hardened, my heart broke. There - right there, on the other side of the closed, locked door - my wife was giving everything to that man. Her body, her touch, and now her orgasm, all for him.

The bed shook. Sally can cum hard when she's excited, but I never thought she could shake the bed so much that a bystander could hear it in the next room. She did. One, two, three, four, five, six times: I could picture it well, since I know how my wife's body spasms and thrashes when she cums, and the sounds of the bed shaking under her provided all the information I needed to know.

What I did not expect was to hear the sounds of Ted groaning along with her, yet with every "thump" of the bed, that is exactly what I heard. I knew that he was not fucking her, and I doubted very much that she could be stroking him while she came, since she loses control of her body completely when she cums. So he must be groaning from... HER PLEASURE. He was watching her. He was feeling her. He was getting off on my wife cumming. It hurt so much to be locked out for that. So much. "Click."

The bed stopped bouncing for only a few seconds, then started again. I tried to figure out what was happening - every sense tuned in to discern what they were doing. I got my answer quickly: Sally made that surprised, pleased and sexual sound, and Ted began to groan. This new thumping was no longer Sally cumming, it was Ted fucking her. He had held back his own orgasm until my wife was satisfied, but now that he had held her while she came, he could not wait any longer. I didn't need to see. I just knew.

I know how good it feels to fuck my wife. It is an incredible feeling which starts from my penis inside her, and radiates out to my whole body. I've known it for more than 20 years. But now Ted was feeling it, not me. I could hear it in his groans, his gasps, his attempts to talk to my wife which were interrupted by spasms and grunts of pleasure. I could hear my wife encouraging him, coaxing him to cum in her, and her words told me what her body was doing to him. She was using her pussy, her body, her mind to turn him on. The thumping grew louder, his groans grew louder, her sex talk grew louder. Then he came.

I sat behind the closed, locked door, and heard Ted cum in my wife. He cried out his pleasure, and his voice was so strained that I could picture the faces he was making. Talk about an intimate act: allowing another person to see the faces you make when you cum. Intimate, like a woman spreading her legs and pulling a man into her, turning him on until he lets go inside her.

I know what sex is for, as nature intended it. It is biology: the way a man puts his sperm into a woman. I heard it happen. I heard Ted cum in my wife, and his gut-wrenching groans made it clear that he was ejaculating in her. The strain in his voice as he grunted over and over told me that his body was pushing its fluid out. Out through his penis. And into my wife.

As I write this, eight hours after Ted said goodbye, my wife is upstairs sleeping. And Ted's sperm is swimming around in her womb. I didn't see it happen, but Sally and Ted were both happy to assure me it did. Three times.

Afterward, silence. The phrase, I believe, is "post-coital bliss." But it sucks to be sitting outside the bedroom door. I hadn't allowed myself to cum, and would not all day, because I knew that without the edge of my incredible horniness, I could not survive the beating my self-esteem was taking. So in the silence I reviewed everything I had heard, everything my wife and her lover had done right in front of me, so to speak, and I kept stroking my painfully hard cock. They were satisfied; they had satisfied each other. I was a wreck. "Click."

Fifteen minutes of quiet. Sure I checked my watch; what else did I have to do? They began talking, and while I still could not hear the words, the tone was conversational. They talked back and forth like friends, and it all sounded so normal, except when I reminded myself that they were lying together, naked. My wife and her lover. My wife and her friend.

I guess it's good I kept reminding myself of that, because it was a little less of a shock when Ted suddenly groaned. A few seconds, then another groan. And another. A few words from him, and yet another. She was sucking his cock back to life. It had to be.

It was.

After 10 minutes or so of him encouraging her in her "work," I heard the bed creak, followed by Sally's a-penis-just-entered-me gasp and a deep, loud moan from Ted. The bed kept creaking, then the headboard started banging into the wall. Slow, fast, slow, fast. This time, Sally was fucking Ted.

I listened through the closed, locked door as my wife fucked her lover. I had no idea what specific moves she was putting on him, but I heard him react, and I knew whatever she was doing to him it was working. The fucking went on and on. The noises were... obscene. I felt like an eavesdropper, listening in on a couple's most private act, and then I realized that was exactly what I was. I was sure they did not have a thought about me, and both of them later confirmed that I was right. They were a couple, a man and a woman, alone and naked and fucking. "Click."

My wife made him cum in her again. The noise he made was unbelievable, as if she were drawing his very soul out of his body. Guys, you know how that second orgasm in a short time takes longer to arrive, and is so deep that it almost hurts? I heard it all. I heard a man gasp out his pleasure as my wife used her body, her pussy, to give him pleasure.

It was quiet again, then rustling of sheets. The bedroom door opened, and Sally walked out, completely naked, on her way to the bathroom. I know this sounds absurd, but the shock of seeing her naked was overwhelming. Of COURSE she was naked; hadn't I heard them having sex for the past two hours? Was it denial that made me so surprised to see her completely exposed, leaving her lover's bed? Did the fact that I hadn't SEEN any of it mean it didn't really happen? Whatever the rationalization, the truth stood in front of me: He saw her. He touched her. He knew my wife's body. He knew my wife.

She looked at me, sitting in a chair by their bedroom door, my pants pulled down and my cock hard in my hand, and she laughed. She entered the bathroom and closed the door without saying a word. When she came out, she stood directly in front of me. Her nipples were slightly above my eye-level, her pubic hair right where I could reach out and touch. But I did not try to touch her. There was nothing in her stance that made me feel my touch would be welcomed. She faced me for about a minute, watching me masturbate furiously as I looked at her, then she said, "I'm having a WONDERFUL time. Bye." She smiled, walked back into the bedroom, and closed the door behind her.

I heard her turn the lock. "Click."

Another half-hour or so of talking, punctuated by the sounds of kissing and the occasional soft moan. I knew what they were doing: talking together as friends, but casually touching each other as lovers. After hearing all the sounds of sex, why did it wreck me to think that he was just playing with my wife's tits while they talked? Intimacy, of course. It is one thing to fuck someone; it's another to love spending time with them in bed. Sally sounded so comfortable in there, and the more comfortable she sounded, the more it made me feel left out, and foolish, and hurt... cuckold hurt.

The vibrator started up again. "Good luck with this one," I thought; Sally never cums more than once in an afternoon or evening. But once again, the soft whir of the vibe was hidden by my wife's heavy breathing, then moaning, then... quiet. No, I thought, it can't be; this can't be the quiet before her orgasm. No. No. Not twice in such a short time.

When she came, she exploded. She, who is always conscious of not being too loud, especially in a hotel, held nothing back. She cried out a sound that anyone in the world would instantly recognize, and I felt as if everyone in the hotel knew that Ted was making my wife cum. The bed banged over and over and over again, and Ted's own groans over her pleasure made me feel worse, which I didn't think was possible. "Click."

Later, when Ted talked with me in the living room before he left, he said he was amazed that Sally was able to get him hard again after she came. He said he couldn't remember the last time he had sex three times in three hours, but she was so sexy and so exciting, and so focused on sucking him to hardness, that it happened. He told me he had to be on top, so he could control the strokes. He described it so matter-of-factly, sitting in the living room fully dressed and with me still jerking my frustrated cock, that it took a minute for me to register that he was discussing his method of fucking my wife.

He said his third orgasm "felt the best, although it was the smallest quantity of semen," which was the most humiliating thing anyone has ever said to me. Sitting there with my pants down, jerking my cock which had not cum through three of his orgasms and two of hers, I listened to him evaluating the quality of his orgasms and how much semen he squirted into my wife with each one. I literally could not talk; I grunted and jerked off harder. He got up to leave, and later wrote that he stopped talking with me because it had become a one-way conversation - him talking and me just moaning - and he got nothing out of watching me masturbate, even if he had just fucked my wife.

Ted went into the bedroom and spent five minutes saying goodbye to Sally, then walked by me to the door. "Take care" was all he said, and he was gone.

I went into the bedroom, where Sally lay with the covers pulled up to her neck. She kissed me and I felt her reflexively pull away. She looked at me for a moment, laughed and said, "Oh my God, it's so strange kissing someone without a mustache." I didn't cum even then, though it took every ounce of self-control.

We kissed again, and Sally said, "We were right. It was MUCH better without you in the room. I really like him. He's a good man, a good friend, and a great lover, and I can't wait for next time. But we have to be sure we always get a place where we can lock you out. Now, I'm really tired, and I want to take a nap before we go home. Please wake me in half an hour, and... please close the door on your way out."

I started to object, but decided against it. If I was able to sit on a chair outside the bedroom for three hours, another half hour wouldn't hurt. Besides, it would allow me to masturbate without disturbing her as I thought of all the powerful feelings I had experienced. So I tucked the covers around her, got up and quietly made my way out the door. I shut it as quietly as I could.

Apparently she had not yet fallen asleep, because as I sat down in my chair, I heard a familiar sound:

"Click."