First Time I Get to Watch

The two main characters in most of my stories are based on my wife and myself and tend to be about first time experiences.

Events within are also based on our real life experiences, but do not take them too literally. If you read all my stories then we have had many first experiences, so they will often contradict each other, they are more about stories I have created to capture those first feelings we had. The stories are also supposed to be erotic rather than sexually graphic, and often have a longish lead in to create an atmosphere and hopefully more than a whiff of credibility, there is no abuse and no humiliation. We are also from the UK and I write the dialogue as we would actually say it, rather than the way a US reader may best understand it.

All I can say is that many of the events are true and the feelings we experienced are all true, if that's your thing then please read on.

My wife and I are in our early forties, both in fairly good nick, I, Greg by the way, work hard at it, Anne, my wife, does not seem to need to. She exercises and rides horses, but nothing madly obsessive like some of her friends, who incidentally receive far less attention on a girl's night out than my wife does. This is something I am quite proud of and I know it pleases her.

"Very good for the self esteem of a forty something woman," she reminds me.

I agree, and not to bad for the self esteem of the forty something bloke that she comes home to, usually in a very horny mood.

Whilst in this mood she loves me to talk filthy to her during our fairly torrid sex sessions, while she teases me about the young would be suitors and their corny chat up lines. For some reason I get quite turned on thinking about the attention she receives, I'm not a jealous bloke and I trust her completely, but I know she can be a shocking flirt and doesn't mind leading them on a little before ditching them and coming home to me.

We are also well aware of each other's past sex life, and rather than beat each other up over it, as some couples seem to do, we like to talk to each other about it. With her consent, I have posted several stories on this site, albeit using a certain amount of artistic license. Her first encounter with a woman and her first trio are based on factual encounters that occurred before we met.

"It turns you on, thinking about me being chatted up doesn't it," she asked the morning after one such evening.

I hesitated, she was right but I didn't want her to get the wrong idea, I am not some wimpy cuckold who gets off thinking about his loved one being used by some macho wanker she's picked up in a bar.

"I don't know what it is," I replied "I think it's great that other men fancy you, but it's a bit more than that."

I was trying to choose my words carefully, "Its very sexy, but only because I trust you," slight pause with no discernable reaction before quickly adding, "its like we are both controlling the situation." I waited for a swift bollocking.

"Oh! I see," she thought for a moment, "but you're not there," she correctly reminded me, seemingly without any anger.

"I know, but like I said, I trust you and trust you to tell me everything that happens."

"And what do you think happens?" A little too defensively, in my humble opinion.

"Nothing," I was backpedalling now, "but if it did," still squirming a little, "I know that because of the special sort of relationship that we have, you would not be afraid to tell me about it."

"Oh," she paused slightly, then, "good," not quite sure about the sincerity of my response.

Good save, I congratulated myself, obviously in silence.

"Well, nothing ever really happens anyway."

"Really happens?" I shot back, picking up on her less than definite reply, "tell me more." I was more than a little curious about the phrasing of her response.

"There's nothing to tell."

"I don't believe you, I want you to tell me."

I waited patiently for about five seconds, then I persisted.

"Go on!"

She was mulling something over, I had butterflies, wondering what she was considering confessing to me.

"Ok, but don't give me ant shit over this."

"Ok," I reassured her, obviously lying through my teeth.

"Well," she paused "you know Julie and Mark?"

"Of course" Julie was her best friend and Mark was her husband.

"Well" she repeated, pausing again "if Mark's out when we are, we all share a taxi home."

"I know that, so?"

"Well," another slight pause, I was becoming impatient, "Marks friend Sean, you've heard me mention Sean?" I nodded; I knew of him, never actually met, he was the manager of the club that they usually ended up at. I also knew that he was recently divorced and probably on the prowl.

"Well, when he's working, he's usually driving so he sometimes drops us all off and he insists on seeing me to the door."

"Very gallant" I responded sarcastically.

"No need for that tone," she remonstrated "He's a nice bloke"

"How nice?"

"Well he's a pretty tactile bloke, spends a lot of time shmoozing in the club."

"Go on."

"Well, he usually gives me a hug when he drops me at the door, but last Friday when we came back," she paused, "he kissed me."

"Where?"

"On the lips."

"Cheeky bastard, what did you do, give him a slap?"

"Of course not."

"Go on," she had my interest now.

"I was flattered and more than a bit drunk, I kissed him back." She stared at me, gauging my response.

I had butterflies now, I also had a hard on you could knock nails in with, very unnerving.

"You should have invited him in for a quickie," I suggested, childishly.

"Don't be like that" she was a little upset "I knew I shouldn't have said anything, it was only a quick kiss, he was as shocked as me.

"I doubt that," then, "sorry, I wasn't having a go, honestly," I wasn't, she had never given me any reason to distrust her. "Anyway, what happened next?"

"Nothing, that's it,"

"Oh,"

"You sound disappointed."

"Don't be soft, why would I be disappointed?" Thing is, I suppose I was a little disappointed, confused, but still disappointed, "He does fancy you though,"

"He doesn't," she responded with an embarrassed giggle.

"You think so. I bet he always drops you off last"

She thought for a moment.

"I suppose he does, so what?"

"I remember you telling me he only lives two streets away from Julie and Mark."

I could almost here the pennies begin to drop.

"He fancies you like mad," I continued.

"Oh god, do you think so?" she asked naively "but he knows I'm married, he wouldn't try it on."

"Bollocks! He already has, if he thought I wasn't here and you gave him a hint of a green light, which incidentally that's exactly what you did, he would be on you in a flash."

"I don't believe that," she responded, with a doubtful expression, "I just felt a bit sorry for him, I think he still misses Jane, he actually apologised afterwards, it was sweet."

Jane was his ex, she had a very brief affair with a young single bloke at work and despite her protestations, and pledges of undying love, he rather hastily in my opinion, kicked her out. I know many that may disagree, but it seems to me that there are often good reasons and fault on both sides, when a one half of a long-standing relationship does something stupid like this. Apparently they where both now living on their own, so it can't have been much more than a casual fling.

"God, you're so blonde sometimes."

"Why?"

"He'll think you're up for it now."

"Why, it was just a drunken sympathy kiss."

"I'm telling you, he's either a hound that's giving you a line, or he's a genuine sad bastard and probably horny as a toad on account of the fact that he hasn't had any since Jane left. Either way, you obviously fell for it, so he'll try again."

"Your such a bloody cynic."

"Yep, it never surprises me the depths that some blokes will stoop to, to get their leg over, remember, I was once that sad man."

"I still think you're wrong," she replied unconvincingly.

"Ok, tell you what."

"What?"

"You're out tonight?" it was Saturday.

"Yes."

"I bet Sean's out again and I also bet he's driving."

"So?"

"When he brings you home tonight, invite him in and I bet he tries it on with you."

"He doesn't always bring us home."

"He will tonight, trust me."

"And where will you be?"

"I'm going out, I told you, it's the rugby club dinner. "

"How will you know what happened, assuming I go along with this and anything does happen."

"You'll tell me."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course, unless you don't trust yourself?"

"Of course I do, what's the rules?"

"Ok, if he tries it on, I win."

"You'll have to be more specific," she interrupted, "what if he just kisses me like before, that shouldn't count."

"Alright, that doesn't count."

"Even if I kiss him back?"

"Why, are you going to?"

"I might, would that turn you on?" she was such a tease, but I was not letting her get to me.

"It might"

"What if I let him touch me?"

"Then you'd lose the bet," I kept a straight face.

"What if I touched him?"

"Then technically, I suppose that would still be ok."

"Aaah, but would it still turn you on?"

"Only if I could watch."

"Oh, I see, so you'd like to watch me get it on with a stranger." I had rattled her a little with that.

"He's not a stranger." I was not going to blink first, besides it probably would turn me on.

"You'd better be careful what you wish for."

"You wouldn't dare," I was really pushing her buttons now.

"Ok, smart arse, what's the stakes?"

"Just name it"

"Ok, if I'm right and I know I will be, you have to do whatever I say for the rest of the weekend, you can be my slave around the house."

"Sex slave?" I asked hopefully.

"No chance, housework slave,"

"Fine, as long as I get the same," my mind was awash with fantasies, "you have to be my slave."

"Housework slave?"

"Yea right, you'll need to sit in a bucket of ice for the rest of the week, when I've finished with you."

"Why? After I let Sean shag me, I wouldn't be able to feel your tiny little thing."

"Don't mock me woman, when I win the bet, I'll have my revenge," I replied, doing my best impersonation of the pantomime baddie, stopping just short of the fake laugh.

So there it was, deal done, I had decided that I was going to make sure I was home before Anne, mainly because I wanted to make sure she was ok. I had a natural deep distrust of my own sex, he might be a nice bloke, but best to be deeply suspicious until proven otherwise.

In addition, to be honest, I wanted to see if she told me the truth. I totally trusted her to behave, but not him and could not be sure about her telling me the truth on such a big bet.

I also had to admit that despite all my good intentions, I think the voyeur in me wanted to watch. I couldn't get away from the fact that I liked to see her being chatted up and the image of them kissing was occupying my thoughts more than was reasonably healthy.

My plan was to sneak off a little early and nip round to the back of our house, the garden was very secluded, and from there I could see into the kitchen and living room. I knew that with the house lights on and the garden in darkness, I could stand right up against the window and all they would be able to see was their own reflection.

I left the house early on in the evening, around sevenish; Anne was still in the bath as she was only being picked up at nine. I leant over to kiss her on the lips and did not miss the opportunity to give her pussy a little stroke; she grabbed my hand, to hold it there.

"Are we horny then," I enquired, "what have you been thinking about, has our little wager got you all revved up?" I kissed her and stroked her pussy for a little while before pulling away, "sorry, got to go, can't be late."

It was tempting to stay for a while, but I figured if I kept her on the boil a little, she would be absolutely dying for it when I got her in bed later that evening. As I have previously mentioned, we have some of our filthiest evenings after a night on the town.

"Aaaaw," she moaned, as I pulled away, "you do realise that you are sending me out all sexually frustrated, amongst a load of horny men, one of which, according to you, is going to bring me home and try and shag me."

"I trust you to control your urges."

"Aah, but by then, I will be even more sexually frustrated and probably drunk enough to let him," she shouted at me as I left the bathroom and descended the stairs.

"That's a chance I'll have to take," I fired back. Actually, her intention may have been purely to wind me up, but I had to admit to myself, that there was an element of truth in her parting shot, what if she responded to his leery advances.

Easy, I could either watch the love of my life bring an extra special lump to my throat, when she pledges her love and fidelity to me, by spurning his attentions. Or I get to watch the sexiest woman I've ever had any sort of relationship with, bring an extra special lump to my trousers, by teasing some bloke to distraction, in front of my very eyes. Oh, and the fact that she would then be my sex slave for the rest of the weekend, would be a wonderful bonus.

Nope, did not seem to have a down side to me, not from where I was stood, in my rapidly tightening trousers.

I had a good night, a few drinks, but not enough to forget my plan. I sneaked off a little early, saying I had to be up early the following morning for work. I knew that Anne would not be home until after 1am. My plan was to nip in the house to open the windows at the back, then to sit and hide in my car, at the front of the house, until she arrived home. When and if they entered the house, I would then sneak along the side of the house into our rear garden, to watch and listen to them through the windows. Brilliant! I applauded my ingenious guile, with the confidence that alcohol may help to induce.

I sat in my car, listening to the radio and staring at the clock, 12.45am.

The next time I checked, it was 1.30am, "shit," I thought, I must have dozed off, first part of brilliant plan down the toilet. I checked around me, there wasn't a strange car, I looked over to the house, the porch light was on. "Shit, shit," I mouthed again to myself; they must have arrived in a taxi, they where in the house, my brilliant plan not going too well at all.

I jumped out of the car and ran along the side of the house to the back gate, I unlocked it and let myself in. The kitchen light was on. I stood back a little and checked out the view, making sure I couldn't be seen, they were both stood in the kitchen. We have full-length patio doors leading into the back of the kitchen; this enabled me to see the whole of the room. Anne was stood against the kitchen worktop, with a glass of red wine in her hand, she was pretty glassy eyed and probably needed the support of the worktop. She was wearing tight jeans that flared at the bottom and a white button up shirt that nipped in at the waist, the buttons were undone just enough to see the soft curve of her bra less bust, fairly casual and very sexy, or so I thought. The bloke stood in the kitchen with her, who I presumed to be Sean, obviously agreed, as he stood opposite, hanging on her every word. He was dressed in a white shirt and what looked like the bottom half of a dark suit, quite slim around my age with short cropped dark hair that was greying at the sides, probably best described as ruggedly handsome, he was also drinking red wine presumably from out of the same bottle of.

She looked comfortable in his presence, there was no contact, or attempt on his part to initiate any, her body language did not invite it, and I suspect she was determined to win our little wager. I suppose I was relieved, as I have previously stated I am not the jealous type, but I always believed she would never consciously go behind my back. I did not fancy all the housework in store for me though.

I was intrigued as to whether or not I would find any contact a turn on, the thought of it definitely did, but this was a little different. I think I would like to see them kiss first, just to see how it would affect me. Looking at them both now, from my grandstand view, through the window, contact did not seem likely. I looked at my watch, 1.45, I did not fancy staying out much longer so I decided to call her cell phone.

I dialled the number and let it ring, Anne would have known it was me, her phone was in her jeans pocket, she excused herself and went into the other room to answer the phone.

"Hi, its me," I said.

"I know, where are you?"

"I'm on my way home, how has it gone?" trying to sound nonchalant.

"Don't give me that."

"What?"

"I saw you in the car as our taxi pulled up, you dozy sod, where are you really?"

"I'm stood in the cold, dark back garden, watching through the window, like some sad old pervert." I had to reluctantly admit.

"You rotten bastard, you don't trust me, do you?"

"Of course I do."

"Well you either don't trust me, or," she paused slightly, "you wanted to watch, didn't you?"

"Might have," I had to grudgingly concede.

"My God, what did you think would happen?"

"I suppose it turned me on a little, the thought of you kissing, I know it shouldn't, but I kept thinking of him trying it on with you and imagined how sexy you'd look," I paused for a moment, "I'm sorry, are you annoyed?" The line went quiet, then.

"How far would you have liked me to go?"

"I don't know," I meant it, "we've never done anything like this, how far could you go?"

"I don't know."

"Does it turn you on?" I asked, there was a slight pause.

"Yes, I suppose it does," she responded, confirming my suspicions, "I guessed you'd be watching, you dirty old man."

"Hey, less of the "old, I sometimes forget how well you know me, is it that that turns you on, knowing I'm watching."

"Yes, you know I like it when we've been watched in the past, well this is the same sort of thing, only dirtier."

"Do you fancy him?"

"He's a nice bloke and I suppose he's good looking."

"So, you do fancy him?"

"I suppose I could have done, if I'd been single, but nothing was ever going to happen, ever, and I don't just mean so I could win a stupid bet," she emphasised the point. "You do know that don't you?"

"Yes," I believed her.

"Good, I do genuinely feel sorry for him, I know he comes across as a bit flash, but it's all front. He says he hasn't been with a woman since his wife left and they barely had sex for a good while before that."

"Do you believe him?"

"I think so."

"Sounds like you could do him the world of good." My mouth was dry and my stomach was churning, but I wanted to see something happen.

"You sure about this, you really want me to come on to him?"

"Do you want to?"

"Only because you want me to," she needed it to be my decision, "Are you telling me to do it?"

"Yes, do it."

"Ok," she responded, then, "how do I do it? He's so nervous, I don't think he would try anything anyway."

"Take the initiative, you're a big girl."

"I don't know if I can."

"It doesn't matter, I'll watch for a while and if nothing happens, either because he won't or you can't, I will call you to say I'm on my way home, ok?"

"Ok," there was a pause "if you change your mind, then call anyway, ok?"

"Ok" I whispered, "open the kitchen door, I want to listen as well."

"Alright."

"One thing"

"What?"

"There are some condoms at the side of the bed."

"I can't do that!"

"I know, you keep going until I call."

"I love you," she whispered, and then she hung up, putting the phone back into her pocket.

I knew that she could not see me through the window but she knew I was there, watching her. She examined herself in the large mirror over the fireplace, checking her hair and make, she then turned towards the window, facing me and undid another two buttons at the bottom of her shirt, exposing the stud in her belly button. She looked gorgeous and at that moment, seemingly, mine to command, I could get used to this.