Sandy Steps Out

The next day I was completely useless at work. My desk is at the end of a row on a large trading floor. It's a whirlwind of activity, but all I could do was stare sightlessly at the monitors in front of me. The graphs and charts meant nothing; in my head was the image of Sandy's head thrown back in pleasure, John's strong hands on her hips. It was like it was burned onto my retina.

I wondered if she and John were doing it even as I sat there. He owned a business in town, so there would be lots of chances for them to get together. Did they screw in my bed at home? I imagined them fucking through my house: on couches, tables -- hell, swinging from chandeliers. I kept thumbing my phone to the find-my-phone app. Sandy and I had the same ID, so we could find each other's phones when we misplaced them. I would check Sandy's little green dot. Was it staying too long in the Walgreens parking lot? Was it because she was blowing him in our car? I felt the blood rush from my head as I imagined her head bobbing up and down on his cock while his hands fondled her breasts, like horny teenagers.

"Are you ok? You seem distracted today, you didn't even order lunch."

I snapped out of it, and looked up. Tracy from the risk department was standing over my desk. I must have been really out of it to not even notice her. She was my little fantasy at work. Long brown hair, usually primly up, deep brown eyes, and great legs that I loved watching as she walked away from my desk. She had a tight body, probably from yoga or whatever the hipsters were doing this week. Her eyes behind the dark frames of her glasses looked into mine.

"Uh, yeah, just got a lot on my mind. Not hungry today."

She raised an eyebrow. Lunch is provided by the firm, so no one turned it down, unless they were deathly ill.

"Alright, but let me know if you need anything. I stopped by to say I emailed you those stress tests earlier. I just need to you sign off on them."

I nodded, and the sight of her walking away with a bit of a sway to her hips briefly took my mind off of Sandy and John.

Finally, it was the end of the day and I headed out. Almost home, my phone beeped. A text from Sandy.

"Going running, see you later at home."

I thumbed over to the app. The green dot was parked in a lot at the local forest preserve. I knew the trail she had stopped at. About a mile up it, was an abandoned picnic shelter. Was that the spot for their next rendezvous?

The preserve runs along a wooded stretch, the trail going up a long hill to the old shelter. There was another lot at the base of the hill. I stopped there and my mind almost blank, began scrambling up the hill. There's a reason why the trail starts farther away, it's an almost straight up scramble over rocks and brambles to the top. I slipped several times, tearing my pants once, blood seeping down my knee. I cursed softly as I finally got near the top, not wanting to be heard.

I threw myself down on the ground, and scrambled forward, like some poorly trained, Dockers-wearing soldier. I peeped over the edge of the ridge, through some bushes and my heart skipped a beat. There was John. He was wearing running shorts and a t-shirt, showing off his ripped legs and arms. At that moment, I heard steps coming up the trail and Sandy entered the clearing.

She was wearing running shorts too, and a halter top over a sports-bra. She hadn't been running too hard, I could tell by her breathing, but her breasts still glistened a bit in the evening sun from a slight sheen of sweat. She smiled at the sight of John and he grinned too, moving forward to take her in his arms. They kissed deeply, open mouthed, bodies pressing hungerly against each other. She had to reach up to kiss him, her arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, since he was so much taller. They kind of crab walked around behind the shelter. They'd hear anyone coming up the trail, I realized, making it a good, if still dangerous, place to meet.

I watched transfixed from my hiding place as they kept kissing. John's hands roamed over my wife's body. He cupped her ass, pushing her hips harder against him, grinding his pelvis. Then his hands moved up her sides, caressing the swell of her breasts. She tipped her head back, breaking the kiss. He kissed down her neck, cupping her breasts as his tongue flicked across the tops of her tits. Her hands moved under his shirt, caressing his abs, then she pushed his shirt up over his head.

She ran her hands over his toned body, feeling his pecs and and bending her own head to lick his nipples. He pulled her shirt, then bra off over her head, and Sandy's breasts fell free, her large nipples already erect, standing out starkly from her large areolae. One of her hands moved into John's shorts, pulling his cock free as she pushed his shorts off of his hips with the other hand. She stroked his already hard cock, kissing down his body, kneeling in front of him.

I found myself breathing hard, my own cock stiff. I moved my hand down, rubbing it as I watched my wife lick this other man's cock up and down. John stood there in his sneakers and expensive glasses, watching Sandy tongue his swollen head, then engulf him in her mouth. She pumped him with one hand, a counter motion to the movement of her head up and down, in slow, lingering, sucking strokes. I could hear her moan softly as she blew him, her other hand moving up to fondle his balls. John moaned himself, moving one hand down to play with a breast, while the other stroked her hair. I pulled my phone out, opened the camera app and began filming.

Sandy kept going, her cheeks sucking in tight around the cock, moving her head faster now, stroking faster, her lips making smacking and slurping noises. I kept rubbing my own cock, wanting to cum, but forced myself to stop, to take my hand away. John didn't stop though. he grunted, rocking his hips back and forth. Sandy's eyes opened and I knew John was shooting his load into my wife's mouth.

She held just the head in her mouth, jacking John off with her hand into her mouth. He stiffened, arching his back, then finally slumped a bit. Sandy slowed her stroking, before finally pulling him free. She smiled, opening her mouth to show John his cum. She licked her lips, coating them a bit with sticky cum, before swallowing.

I, on the other hand, could barely swallow. I could barely remember the last time she'd blown me, much less with such a porn-star performance. John pulled her up, then set her on the picnic table, He had thoughtfully laid out a blanket. He'd hate for his fuck-toy to get splinters, I guess. She leaned back on her elbows as he kneeled in front of her, returning the oral favor. He eagerly began licking and sucking on my wife's pussy and clit. He stroked one finger into her, moving it slowly at first. As he kept sucking and licking though, he inserted a second, then a third finger.

Sandy leaned back on her elbows, eyes closed, breathing raggedly with pleasure. He fingered her faster and faster, licking and flicking her clit with his tongue. Sandy gasped loudly, cumming hard, her legs spread wide, heels rubbing up and down John's back. John suddenly stood up, and I could see he was hard again, his cock straight up, with a slight upward bend. He hooked Sandy's knees over his elbows, and thrust himself suddenly and deeply into her.

He fucked my wife hard, his tight ass flexing with each stroke. Sandy moaned and thrashed under him, cumming at least once, if not more as he pounded her: no finesse, just pure animal thrusts. He grunted each time, and I could hear their skin slapping together. My own cock was still throbbing, but I was determined not to cum myself.

John let out a loud gasp and then pulled out. Rubbing his cock, he shot thick, ropy cum all over my wife's stomach and breasts, before slumping forward over her. They slowly caught their breath, then sat up, kissing deeply for a bit before reaching for their clothes, laughing at the mess they'd made.

I flicked off the camera, then pulled back from my watching post, new images burned into my brain as I stumbled back down the hill to my car.