It was a reasonably normal morning. I was reading the paper. My wife, Wendy, rolling her long, blonde hair up into a bun and shoving a pencil through it to make it stay. She was already wearing her pink nurse's gown that had a nice way of accentuating her exquisite breasts. She was getting ready for what would probably be another 16-hour stretch in the OR.
"That movie was good last night, wasn't it?" I said as I turned the page. It was a Tuesday, and my wife always seemed kind of "off" on every Tuesday for the last couple of months or so. She had even done her make-up. That was something I'd never seen her do until recently. A registered nurse didn't need make-up on while shoving hoses down people's throats and changing bandages on the latest recipient of emergency surgery.
"Huh? Oh, yes. Very good. Al Pacino is pretty cool isn't he?" she said as she fought to keep her eyes open while putting on her mascara.
"Sure was convincing as a transvestite, wasn't he?" I continued.
"Wha? Oh, yeah." she replied, oblivious to what she was saying. I downed the rest of my coffee and folded the paper under my arm. Grabbing my briefcase and keys, I made my way past her to the door. I turned and looked at Wendy's ass wiggle as she bent over to put on her white tennis shoes. She stood up, kissed me on the cheek, and slid past me to the door, without making eye contact even once.
Wendy was already in the crowded elevator by the time I got the door locked. The trip down eight stories was virtually silent. I stood in front of my wife, feeling her hard nipples through my sport coat. Well, it was a tad cool in these elevators, wasn't it? I switched my briefcase to my other hand and slid my hand ever so subtly to my wife's crotch. Wendy and I had always been exhibitionists, and we'd fucked in half the elevators in the city by our first anniversary.
To my disappointment, my hand was batted away as the elevator doors opened and the inhabitants spilled out into the lobby of our building and we made our way to our respective cars. I thought about saying goodbye, but decided against it. I doubt she would have heard me anyway. Bitch.
I thought about it all day. I was having an ironically good day on the floor. Best in a few years actually, but the satisfaction of it was being clouded by the thought of some hotshot doctor fucking Wendy, my wife. I had never met anyone she worked with, and I'd only been to her hospital to pick her up on the way to the airport. I remembered her once mention her new boss, Aaron. I thought I might see what was up.
Brokers have to have good instincts, and I had a feeling in my gut that I HAD to get over to that hospital as soon as I could. After my last call of the day, I wrapped up, and hurriedly got into my car. I peeled out and got my game face on. Getting to the hospital was pretty slow going. Giving me time to imagine what I might walk in on. I knew it might be nothing, but I couldn't shake it. Only one way to find out. I called ahead to the hospital to see if she was in surgery.
"Wendy just went into a meeting with Dr. Thompson right now. Can I take a message?" the receptionist said curtly.
"That wouldn't be Doctor Aaron Thompson, would it?" I queried through clenched jaws. I was swerving through traffic so fast I prayed a cop wouldn't find me.
"Uh, yes...to whom am I speaking?" was the last thing I heard before I pressed "end" on my cell phone. I was about five minutes away.
I parked in visitor parking and tried to calm myself before I got to the entrance. I didn't want to attract security before I even had a CHANCE to do something drastic like a little amateur surgery on the cock of some doctor. I went in through emergency. Passing through the corridors, I went into the gift shop to get a disposable camera in case I needed it for my lawyers later.
Ducking into a spare room I saw a white coat and threw it over my suit. For added effect I grabbed a stethoscope and wore it around my neck as I made my way to the elevator. I'd need more than a suit and tie to get into the Surgery wing.
Walking straight past what looked like the receptionist I'd just spoken to (blue hair and nose ring!). I wandered the halls empty halls until I came upon a door with "Dr. E. Thompson" on the placard. I didn't give it a second thought while I put my ear to the door to hear the unmistakable cacophony of my wife being fucked from behind the door.
My father being a locksmith had rubbed off on me in a few ways. Being able to defeat an old-fashioned door-knob like this one was one of them. A couple of paper-clips is all you need really. Or a size-13 wingtip. And I was fresh out of paper-clips.
The door swung open with such force I felt the air suck past me for half a second. What I saw made me pause for what felt like an eternity. There they were, Wendy bent over the table, naked, her hair still in a half-bun, and the rest scrambled over her shoulders. Her tits were pressed down on the wood of the desk, and her hands squeezed the edges of the desk bracing herself against the fucking she was receiving from...a WOMAN?
They hadn't yet noticed my presence, so engulfed in lust as they were. The woman standing behind my wife was wearing a strap-on dildo and her red fingernails dug into Wendy's hips as she thrust her pseudo-erection into my wife's tight cunt. They were facing away from me at what was about a 45 degree angle.
Wendy's head turned to me and she screamed as she came. The woman behind her looked at me and stopped moving completely. She didn't pull out, just... froze. She wasn't staring at my face so hard as she was staring at the camera in front of my chest.
After the shock wore off, I snapped a photo. Wendy went ape shit, screaming at me while who I assumed was ERIN Thompson, just stood there dumbfounded, with her shiny, black phallus pointed at my face ffrom across the room.
"You asshole! What the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is going-"
"What the fuck is going on here?!" I shot back. After all, I was the one who should be pissed off, and yet for some reason I wasn't. I was just sort of numb. And yet I was getting more and more turned on by the moment. I could feel my cock growing in my crotch.
"What the fuck are YOU so pissed at? You're here fucking a damn WOMAN? What the hell do you think I should be doing or thinking right now?"
"Uh, I guess I should leave?" the other woman in the corner spoke up. She grabbed her clothes and made her way toward the door. I put up my hand.
"Unless you want copies of what's on this film all over the ward by next week, you'll stay right where the FUCK you are." I growled. She stopped, and then tried to take off the strap-on.
"And keep that thing on!" I said, not yet really sure why.
"Honey, please, let her go. You're mad at me, not Erin. Let her go. Oh God, please don't hurt us!" my wife was now sobbing. I'd never seen her in such a state of fear and confusion. All I knew was my cock was at full throttle.
"Oh, Christ" I said, not sure whether to console her or slap the shit out her and her new boss.
My eyes turned to Erin. She wasn't all that bad to look at either. Dark red curly hair down to her shoulders. A little older than Wendy, but not by much. Tall, pretty face, and what looked like a fitness coach's body. Her abs were fucking stunning. I turned and closed the door behind me.
"Here's what I'm going to do..." I said as I dragged a chair behind me and sat in front of the door. "I'm going to watch what my wife has been up to, just so I can appreciate the 'art' of all of it."
"You've got to be kidding!" Erin shot back. I held up the camera.
"It would seem you're not in any position to object. I do see a few pictures of a few kids and their father on the floor. I'm sure they'd love to see what I'm seeing."
Erin crossed her arms and bit her lip. I stood up and turned to go. I heard a "no" from behind me and stopped.
"Look, I can tell you guys were enjoying yourselves before I walked in, and I'd like you two to continue"
"Honey, are you serious?" my wife said with a cocked head. I nodded and leaned back in the chair.
