Cooper Stillwater groaned, rolled onto his side and lifted his head as something broke through his fucked-up fever dream. Had he really heard a scream or yell? Or was that also inside the dream? He laid his head back down on the pillow, but cringed at the cold, wet feeling; he'd clearly been sweating up a storm. Propping himself up on an elbow he looked to see what time it was on the alarm clock. But the clock wasn't there.
What the fuck?
he thought.
Finally, he remembered there was no clock because he wasn't in his own bedroom. He was in the small guestroom at the other end of the hall. When the fever had suddenly hit him so hard yesterday, he had bunked down here to try and keep his wife and daughter safe from catching his bug. He hoped it worked because he'd really hate for them to feel as bad as he did right then.
He dragged himself around till he was sitting on the edge of the bed. It was dark in the room, so he clicked on the bedside light. Where he'd expected to see a clock before, he instead saw the typical detritus of a sick room. Looking it over brought back memories from the fog of illness. The best thing he saw was a Covid-19 self-test. A negative self-test. In fact, he suddenly remembered, it was his second negative test. He'd taken one yesterday when he'd first started feeling so bad and then he'd taken another one earlier this morning. Well, having the flu sucked, but it could be worse.
Next he took in the Nyquil bottle. Another thing he'd used both yesterday and then again this morning. After seeing the latest Covid test come up negative, he'd taken a very healthy swig of the Nyquil and laid back down for more sleep. He realized that the effect of the tonic was probably another reason he was feeling so punchy. That made him wonder how long he'd been out this time. He figured it had been around 8:00 this morning when he'd first gotten up.
Getting to his feet, he shuffled over to the windows, opened the tightly drawn curtains and squinted against the brightness. The sky was quite hazy, so he couldn't tell what time of day it was, he just knew it was still daytime. Looking down from the second story, he saw his wife's Toyota in the driveway. He remembered that Sofia had popped in this morning to check on him and had said something about running over to the office to pick up some files she could work on from home.
He pulled the curtains closed again and headed toward the bedroom door. He needed to take a piss, plus he'd be able to get some towels from the bathroom that he could lay on top of his sweaty sheets. Stepping outside the door he paused to let his swimming head settle a bit. He wondered where Sofia was. Probably in the home office downstairs he guessed. He looked down the hallway to the staircase at the far end on his left and thought about going down. But he let the idea go, knowing he should still stay away from her, and it would be better to just get back to bed and try to sleep this shit off.
He started the few steps diagonally across the hall to the bathroom that was predominantly his daughter Carmen's, but also served the guestroom. As he put his hand on the knob, he heard noise from farther down the hallway, apparently from the master suite on the right. Sofia must be in our bedroom, he thought. "Sofia," he called out, but his voice was just a strangled croak. He opened and walked through the bathroom door, figuring he'd take care of his business first, then go say hi to his wife.
After pissing, and washing his hands, he splashed warm water on his face to wash off the sheen of sweat and then cold water to cool it down. He picked up a large bath towel and a hand towel to put down on his bed and pillow when he went back to try and sleep. The guestroom was to his left as he stepped out of the bathroom, but he turned right to see if Sofia was still in their bedroom.
As he passed the closed door of his daughter's room on the left side of the hallway, he could see that the door to his bedroom just a few feet farther down on the right was open. There were definitely noises coming from it. Voices? Perhaps Sofia had the radio on while she tidied up the room. But with his next step he knew it wasn't the radio and he stopped in his tracks.
When he'd thought of Sofia being in their bedroom, he'd pictured her changing out of the clothes she'd worn on her office errand or perhaps making up the bed. But the noises he was hearing were the opposite of anything so mundanely domestic. He moved closer, hugging the wall as he went. No, these noises were ones he associated more with taking clothes off, rather than on. And of thrashing the bedcovers about, rather than tidying them up.
Cooper paused at the frame of the open door, feeling dizzy from both the effort of moving about in his ill, semi-drugged state, and from growing anxiety. He steadied himself against the wall and tried to focus on the sounds. Where in the room were they coming from, and could he make out any words?
The effort to concentrate suddenly thrust a blazingly clear thought into his head.
Why are you skulking about? Why don't you just walk, no, charge in there and confront her? Or them?
"Or them?" Paradoxically, that was the reason he was holding back. Something bad was going on, but he didn't know that charging in wouldn't make it worse. One thing he'd learned early in life in sports, that had later served him well in combat and even today in business was, don't rush in blind. Even if it was only the few seconds between the defense lining up and the snap of the ball, you took the time to see what you were really up against. It had become so ingrained in him that even in his current weakened, but frantic state he was able to restrain his surging animal instinct to rush in. Maybe if he was carrying an M-4 instead of a bath towel...
He focused again on sound. The noises that sounded like voices were clearly coming from more than one person and they all seemed male. But what he hadn't heard were sounds of struggle and that was the other thing stopping him from charging in. Had he caught Sofia cheating? It was too incredible a thought and he was conscious of just how mentally foggy he was right now. He needed to know more before he blew things up.
The idea of going back to his room to get his phone so he could record things as proof popped into his head. He actually started to turn back before he caught himself.
You've been watching too many YouTube cheating videos,
he mentally chastised himself.
Just peek around the corner, get the lay of the land and figure out the best way to deal with it
.
He dropped the towels and stood straight up against the door frame, thinking himself narrow. Slowly rotating his eyes around the corner, the first things he saw were their dressers against the side wall. Then the edge of their bed came into view. Rather than being a disheveled mess, it was neatly made, just as Sofia insisted on every morning.
As he continued easing into the room, he became more certain that he'd been right about the disturbing noises. A surge of nausea hit him and he paused for a moment with eyes closed. Whatever was going on, it was happening on the opposite side of the bed, probably in the small seating area in front of the windows that overlooked the backyard. As he listened, he could finally make out words.
A young man's voice was groaning out, "Oh, yeah, Mama. That's so good. Suck it just like that."
Then another male voice, also young. "Pull out a second, dude. She needs to spit on my cock again, her hand's getting rough."
"Go ahead, baby. Get him wet," the first guy said. Then the sudden cessation of another noise finally made Coop register it. He realized it had actually been there all along, steadily underlying the men's words like the hum and occasional slurp of a swimming pool filter. Like a woman sucking rhythmically on a hard cock.
The next noise confirmed that mental image of a woman bobbing up and down, taking a cock into her throat and working up a mouthful of spit. It was the sloppy splash of the woman,
his wife!,
spitting heavily onto the second guy's cock.
"Me too," came a third voice. Higher, but still male. Another gathering of saliva and then a loud, wet spit. Onto another cock? Or into her palm? Either way, his mind's eye clearly saw Sofia on her knees with a cock in her mouth and two more in either hand.
Steeling himself, he edged his view the final inches around the door frame and saw that he'd hit the scene right on the head.
Right on the head.
He moaned internally at the unintentional pun as he saw the skinny, pale ass of some dude thrust forward and heard the sound of a busy swimming pool pump going back into action.
The way the three men were crowded around the kneeling woman mostly blocked her from view, but he could see enough of her profile to tell that it was indeed Sofia. And she was indeed holding a cock in each hand, rhythmically stroking them, but also using them for leverage to help move her head back and forth along the skinny guy's cock.
Cooper swooned a bit, feeling a flush of the fever that had sent him to bed in the first place. He gripped the door frame and pulled himself back to keep from giving himself away. Leaning back against the hallway wall, Coop concentrated on breathing slowly and regaining his equilibrium. It wouldn't do for him to barge in on them only to stumble on his unsteady legs or vomit on the floor.