08/18/2016 21:42 in interracial
It served me right for reading her texts.
I think if I hadn't been snooping, I'd have never known she was cheating on me.
My wife Stephanie was on Facebook Messenger so much, constantly texting friends and enjoying the rapid-fire chatter online. It was her way of unwinding after a long, intense day of handling unruly fifth graders. I guess one way to combat the noise in your head is to fill it with pleasant noise, and it was a great way to talk to friends without using the phone.
Her texting was a nightly ritual of chatting for an hour or so until she fell asleep. Some days she'd hold several conversations at once, and her facial expressions changed rapidly with the different topics. One minute she'd stare seriously at her screen, and suddenly she would erupt in a fit of laughter at a joke, then curse under her breath at something stupid her mother said.
I found Steph's habit amusing some nights, distracting at other times, and occasionally I would feel ignored, left out of her little world. But normally I just let her unwind and fall asleep. I was fine with her texting, and she knew I sometimes saw her friend feed. We had many of the same friends, so we'd swap stories on texts we'd seen. So I had a natural curiosity about her life online.
One afternoon, I came home early from work and saw the iPad on the bed. I picked it up, flipped to Messenger, and read a few rounds of the usual friendly patter she'd been engaging in. And that's where I saw it. The Message.
Five contacts down in the recent messages index was a Facebook name I'd never seen. It was a pseudonym, with a cartoon for a profile icon. Definitely not a co-worker or friend I'd never met. Jack Kafania. The kind of name you use in juvenile moments like prank calls and silly hotel identities. Next to the cartoon icon and silly name was the last text he'd sent, which was "LOL".
Who was this? Why would my wife have a friend in her feed with an anonymous identity? I opened the message. Her preceding text to him had a link to an article about our city's counterculture, with her saying:
- Here's another reason you should come visit!
Visit? What the fuck? Who is this guy? I scrolled back the feed, and saw it went four months back in time, with a lot of extensive conversation. OK, time to investigate.
Since he was a Messenger contact, this guy had to be a Facebook friend too. I opened up Stephanie's page and looked at her friends list. Jones...Kafania...there it is. She's friends with someone with a shitty secret identity?
I opened the page and scanned his feed. Some guy giving the usual funny guy feed of the cynical socio-political critic, a Jon Stewart wannabe...memes, links to satirical sites and web comics...where does this guy live? Dallas suburbs, married, is a writer...here's a link to his website. Open it...somebody named Blair. Author of web comics - that explains his feed. And here's a link to his publications...wait a second. There's a pic of a novel she'd bought years ago, written by her...
Fuck, it's him! David, the old boyfriend! Why is he writing with a fake name on Facebook? Wait, why is she writing him about visiting?
What the hell is going on?
When I feel fear, real fear like I'm in danger or the hammer's about to drop, my skin starts to feel flushed and a low, burning heat crawls through my skin. I'm tingling now, and I'm dreading this. Now I need to read that entire message thread. What are they talking about? Open Messenger, scroll back...keep going...here's the beginning...the usual "wow, great to get back in touch again" stuff. OK, nothing much. Keep going. Two weeks ahead. Here's something...
- Hey, sorry I was such a shitty girlfriend...
- That's OK. I had a lot of growing up to do as well. What the hell, we were kids, right?
Hmm...usual catching-up banter between two old lovers. Nothing out of the ordinary so far.
- Remember that time we were in your house and your mom walked in on us?
Teenage sex memories? Cool. What happened?
- Fuck that was horrifying. I had you tied to the bed, blindfolded, and your pants wrapped around your ankles.
Blindfolded?? Interesting for being only 17 at the time. And this got TMI really fast.
- Hahahaha!! And your mom opened the door, screamed, and ran out. She had her back turned to me the whole time until I left.
Yup, typical Nadine. Ever the drama mama.
- I think I made you swear off bondage for the rest of your life.
- No, I had a healthy respect for sexuality afterward. I got into some pretty good sexual shit after we broke up. I like the experiences.
OK, even when I had talked with my exes about the deep stuff, I never got into old sex discussions. By the way, when was this? Check the time-stamp: Saturday, May 13, at 11:45 pm. Where were you? Check the calendar...flip back to May...camping trip with girlfriends! Are you texting each other after everyone's asleep?
- It's too late to apologize to my mom now, but I do feel bad about that. LOL
- Hmm...I can't believe how sexual we got together. And how uninhibited you were once we got the virginity shit out of the way.
- I know. Hey, does your laptop have a webcam?
- Want to chat? Everyone's asleep, and I'm so fucking bored right now.
- Where are you?
- Camping, with friends. Husband's at home with the boys and I'm listening to my girlfriend snore. I can't sleep and I'm really glad you're up too.
- Got a chance to get away, huh?
- I can barely handle my husband at times, and the kids are so much to manage. I just needed a break.
- Um...hey, you gonna turn your camera on?
- Oh, right! Sorry.
They got on cam to chat now, in the middle of the night? Away from home, too. What happened then? Conversation dead after that point. Hold on, it picks up at 5:30 am.
- Hey, thanks for last night. I needed that.
- No problem. I'm here for you. And I had fun.
Fun! What kind of fun at midnight on a trip away from home?? Jesus, what's going on here...how has this only now come to my attention, four months later?
OK, cool it, I told myself. There is no way you can draw any conclusions from these text conversations, beyond the fact that two ex-lovers related an after-school sexual misadventure and had a good laugh in the end. But there's fifteen things wrong here, not the least of which is the fact there's a conversation going on miles away from my home in the middle of the night that gets sexually deep fast and switches to a webcam conversation for how many hours?
Heart pounding, I briefly scanned the rest of the messages, but couldn't see anything else of apparent value. Calm down, calm down, I thought. There's nothing you can confront her with now that won't do anything but give away the fact you've been reading her texts on some private life she had in the past. If anything, she'll be mad at you for like, ever.
But you know, she offered him a chance to visit, right? I sat on the bed, frozen.
That could be anything. It's most likely a joke, I told myself. Still...everything felt not right at all. My skin was still crawling with tension and fear.
Suddenly, the door slammed downstairs. I made certain to close out the programs I was reading, and put the iPad down. This may or may not be an affair. Okay, don't say or do anything until you know more, I thought, and made a resolution to keep an open mind about it.
My heart was pounding in my chest, and my palms were clammy with sweat. I hadn't been this nervous in ages about my wife! Strangely enough, the tension of wondering about my wife's fidelity, and the fear of getting caught investigating blood made the blood race through my body, and as I stood up I realized I had become...very visibly aroused. I furiously tried to think of work and basketball as I made my way downstairs.
Steph looked up at me from the kitchen, surprised. "You're home early. Where have you been all this time?"
"Oh, reading," I said.
"Let's get dinner ready. The boys are starving."
That night, after dinner and after the kids had finally gone to sleep, we were laying on our own bed watching Netflix. She sat up against the headboard, and I laid facing forward on the bed, watching TV and checking messages at the same time.
Stephanie was always gorgeous to me, and got only more beautiful with age. She had beautiful long, red curly hair that danced on her shoulders, a stunning face with hypnotic hazel eyes and a splash of freckles on her cheeks and lips. I could kiss those lips for hours given the opportunity.
She was incredibly shapely, with a classic hourglass figure. Her ass was a nice round handful I loved to grab onto at any moment. And her breasts were a beautiful pair of 38DDs, small cantaloupe-sized cushions that I loved to kiss, lick, feel, squeeze, and suck on all the time. And I loved to fuck them, too, almost as much as I loved to fuck her amazing pussy. Her nipples could send my cock into overdrive, and she loved to tease me with them, licking them and sucking them in front of me, pinching the nipples as I begged her to let me have my way with her.
Let's just say I could fuck that woman anytime and anywhere...and my desire for her never diminished for over 18 years.
The fact we'd been together for such a long time didn't detract me from enjoying her. Sure, I got bored occasionally. I loved to watch porn and dug the excitement of seeing young nude girls fucking and sucking their way to my heart, but I really just loved looking at all women. I'd switch genres often to keep things interesting. Slim college girls, voluptuous 90's-style porn stars, busty MILFs, BBWs, black girls, Asians, hairy, shaved, blondes, brunettes, redheads...truth is, I never got tired of looking at cute and beautiful women.
But once I saw Stephanie in the flesh, I couldn't help myself. I was in love and lust, all at the same time. And if I couldn't fuck her, I'd do anything to feel her beautiful body one way or another.
I grabbed her foot, and started rubbing.
"Ohhh," she moaned. Please don't stop. My feet are so sore today."
"Not a problem," I said. I got up out of bed.
"Where are you going?" she asked, tensing up.
"Relax," I said, and walked to the dresser. I pulled out a bottle of massage lotion. "If your feet hurt that much, then desperate times call for desperate measures." She smiled, and I returned to the bed and began the real work of massaging her feet. I gave the arches a working-over for nearly twenty minutes. I didn't mind the work. My mind was racing over what I'd read, so I welcomed the distraction from any weird conversation.
"Oh my god. I needed that so bad," she moaned.
We turned in for the night, and she snuggled up close to me into a spooning position. The job I did on her feet brought back her circulation, and, relaxed, her body felt soft and warm. My pelvis, snug against her ass, acted on its own accord, and my cock was soon erect despite the gnawing sense of doubt I'd felt all afternoon. She moved her buttocks slightly, as if to check my hard-on was for real.
"Do you want sex? I'm really tired, but I'm happy to help you out."
"Sure, baby." I slid my pajama bottoms down. My dick, set free, was now rubbing against the silky fabric of her nightgown. She pulled it up over her curvy ass, and I felt the heat of her skin against my member. We were both tired, but my cock had a mind of its own tonight.
Stephanie crouched into the doggy position. "Just don't cum in me, OK? I don't want to take a shower afterwards."
Suddenly I started to panic. What if she really was cheating? Maybe not with him, but other people? Do I want to endear myself to her knowing of the possibility? No, never mind - I'm still looking for clues. Besides, I was horny as fuck now.
"What about you? I said. "I can make it worth your while."
"No, that's okay. This is for you." I felt a pang of disappointment. I wanted us to get aroused together, strip naked, feel the warmth of our bodies, and then I would work on her pussy and get her insanely worked up with my tongue flicking her clit and my fingers twisting gently in her sweet little hole. Then she would come hard, and I'd fuck her with abandon knowing I'd satisfied her every whim, until I came and shot my load from my aching cock into her beautiful, warm...
But not tonight. She was too tired to enjoy sex properly, but willing to please me. I accepted the offer of a one-sided fuck, and positioned myself behind her ass. She spread her knees, and I moistened the tip of my cock with some spit before slowly inserting myself. Since she wasn't properly warmed up, I went in slowly so I wouldn't hurt her.
Once I was fully inside, I began thrusting. Steph moved her hips backward as I pushed, which increased the pleasure my cock was feeling as it moved in her moistening pussy. She was trying, subtly, to get me off faster, and I was trying, to last longer in the hopes that she might end up getting turned on. Sometimes I it happened and we'd have fantastic sex as a result, and I enjoyed the added pleasure of knowing I managed to persuade my wife into a good time through my fucking abilities. But tonight I let things take their natural course, and quickened my pace with my building desire. She wiggled her ass, and I grabbed it and slapped against it repeatedly. Then I felt that familiar buzzing in the head of my prick that signaled I was going to cum.
"Can I cum on you?" I said.
"Whatever you like, honey," she said, and bucked her hips back. I couldn't see her face, but I think she was enjoying her ability to strike oil.
I pulled out, and pressed my dick into the crack of her ass. The juice from her pussy and my precum had made my cock slick, and I rubbed the tip between her cheeks and over the tight rosebud of her asshole. The slight change of texture was just enough to set the nerves of my penis on fire and push me over the edge. I gripped my cock in my fist and jacked it for dear life. A final thrust and my pelvis jolted involuntarily, making me shoot my liquid cargo in an arc over her tailbone and onto her back. It landed with a splat. She lay forward and I rested on top of her momentarily as I recovered, then rolled off.
Stephanie immediately got up out of bed and found an old t-shirt, and wiped the jizz off her backside. She then went to the bathroom, then came back to bed and kissed me goodnight.
"Thanks," I said. "I needed that."
"I love you."
"I love you, too. Goodnight." She rolled over, and in three minutes was sound asleep.
I felt pretty good, despite that gnawing doubt in my gut. I was sorry that we didn't have a good proper fuck together where we both came, but I was glad that we were able to have sex and not have an argument about it. That, or a litany of excuses and negotiations to have some form of sexual playtime, which was OK once in a while but overuse made one end up feeling used.
I rolled over and lay behind her, and placed my hand on the small of her back and rubbed gently. She moaned softly in her sleep, and I gave her a little back massage to carry her into the next morning's drudgery. In time I'd fall asleep, happy that I didn't need to sneak down to the office again for a quick porno.
* * * * * * *
The next day, Stephanie went shopping, and I had a free half hour to myself at home, so I used that time in the office to catch up on the remaining documentation since they renewed their friendship. The email search initially proved fruitless. I was able to peek into her Gmail account, and with an anonymous browser and a few keywords I was able to dig up the conversations they'd had over the last few years, and switch off with no history of my sleuthing.
Everything was as benign as you could imagine it would be for two people catching up on each other's lives, with a bit of added detail here and there for people who have been closely associated. Having a been in a relationship adds a certain insider quality to the talk which can annoy the hell out of your significant other, even if they're not the jealous type, which Stephanie is. I resolved to watch my mouth a little more carefully should I ever encounter one of my exes in the future with my wife.
But I'd opened up an internal Pandora's Box of sorts with that one little text last night, and I needed to make sure the conversation that took place was just that before I could feel comfortable enough to close it up for good. Maybe I read one too many stories of careless talk and paper trails revealing a web of deceit and infidelity, so I needed to properly put the clamps on this doubt.
Weirdly enough, it made me excited, too. What went on after her talk with David switched over to webcam? And for how long? One hour, maybe two? Probably nothing, but the fact they'd talked about sex in pretty graphic detail made my mind race about what they could have been discussing...and then they touch base the following morning? I started to get hot and cold again, and my cock tightened up in my pants as I sat at the desk, thinking.
I flipped through some more emails, reading the usual stuff about life after breaking up. It's when I see this one from Stephanie:
- So, please tell me what you see in an open marriage. I just can't imagine myself in one.
- We just have strong sexual appetites, and we like to try different things. But we still love each other more, and we show more care and attention to ourselves than to other people we're with temporarily. And the sex is way hotter after we come back from our trips away.
Yow. More sexual talk. How far back does this go? Nearly one week before the camping trip. Interesting. I kept flipping.
In another message thread, they discussed their high school sex escapades.
- You know, the day we ditched school and had that bout of marathon sex? I never thought I'd get over it. I was floored when we broke up.
- Yeah, me too. We had bigger things to do in adult life I guess. I always thought about you afterwards.
- I think I made a good mess of my life for a while after, relationship-wise. But you're one of only two people I never ever cheated on.
- That's amazing to hear. I have worried about things I didn't know from time to time. I'm glad. Especially after all the crazy sex we used to have, and I didn't know what hit me after we broke up. That was some crazy shit we did, right?
- Oh yeah, indeed! You know, nobody could suck a cock like you.
Well. Somebody was getting nostalgic. And he was right. Nobody could suck a cock like her. She could get me anytime she pulled my pants down and got to her knees. My cock would always be ready. Her warm, wet mouth would envelop my swollen member and in mere minutes bring me to an ecstatic eruption of love juice. Her tongue could be soft as a pillow one minute, and a muscular boa constrictor choking its prey the next. I felt my dick swell with every pleasurable memory. God, I wish she'd still do that to me now!
Nothing else came from my research that afternoon. But I was so fucking hot
from the thought of my wife sucking my dick...or her first boyfriend's...or someone else's, even? I needed relief fast. I did find a quick five-minute video of a busty, freckled redhead working her bee stung lips up and down her victim's cock in a POV single-shot clip. The man working the camera and getting sucked off said nothing, but you could hear his breathing getting heavier and thicker as the girl went on.
Finally, she went all out and bum-rushed the shaft, swallowing it whole and gagging, bobbing her head furiously up and down, until at last the man groaned a loud "unnnghh", and gave the girl enough time to come up for air as his penis twitched and spurted his thick white load on her face. My hand and cock were working in time to the entire video, and I came in sync with the couple, gushing white frothy milk onto my hand.
I heard the front door slam shut, and I had just enough time to shove my fist, now iced with cum, into my jeans pocket for a quick wipe-up, then join the family in the kitchen as if nothing had happened.
That night, we had a similar bedtime routine. I rubbed her feet, but she was too tired for sex. So I waited until she was asleep and I whacked off to another video or two. The orgasm made me tired like always, and I crept back up to bed and quietly got under the covers.
Just as I was falling asleep, I heard her phone ping with a message alert. I knew from the tone it was not her e-mail, but her text messenger. That woke me up. Who would be texting at this hour? I waited a minute until I was sure I could hear her snoring, then crawled out of bed and crept across the floor to her side. I picked up her cell phone and looked at her messenger app.
There it was: new message, from Jack Kafania.
- Hey, how are you? Thinking about you again, and I'd really love another chance to 'chat', LOL
Fucking hell! There something going on after all!
Too late to find out now, nothing concrete. I'll have to keep this on file until I get more info. No sense in waking her up for an interrogation. Sleep on it.
The next day, we packed the kids off to school, went off to our respective jobs, and I determined I'd just go about the day. I had coffee, a few meetings, the usual task list, and nothing to worry about in the matter of Stephanie and David/"Jack" while it was daylight. I could passively check the iPad at night and see if any further exchanges took place.
It was a little difficult to concentrate on my work, what with all the thoughts swirling through my head about how our marriage had gotten to this point. So I closed the door to my office, leaned back in my chair and thought.
A lot can happen in 18 years of marriage. We wore off a lot of the rough edges, and Steph and I learned to be happy with the necessary compromises to make a marriage last. A big one is accepting that careers are exhausting but necessary, so you learn to adjust your expectations in your leisure activities. After a hard day or days at school, she was too wound up for sex, and rather than make it a constant issue in the bedroom, I'd wait until I'd hear her snore, then head quietly downstairs to my office to look at some porn videos and jerk off so I could sleep. That's how I unwound.
Once the weekend arrived and we both got our batteries somewhat recharged, we'd get the kids settled, sneak upstairs, and have sex. Some days we'd enjoy a long hour of lusty fucking, but most times we'd hear the door knock before we could get really busy. So we'd get a quick screw in with the help of a vibrator, cum, and then hit the showers so we could get on with the day.
Sex was nice, and we tried to make it frequent - two times a week was a good week for me. But over time it became par for the course, and without the time for foreplay or intimate cuddling afterwards, we were losing the feeling of intimacy. It started feeling like we were working on a punch list of managing everyone's needs until we were too tired to focus on ourselves, and sex became part of that routine, too. Wait until Saturday, and find fifteen minutes somewhere to get off.
With Stephanie's chatting taking up a good chunk of the weekday evening time we could be having together, I was feeling malnourished on the love side of our marriage. 18 years of managing busy schedules, kids and personal priorities allow for certain habits to develop to circumvent issues that, if left unchecked, can create a serious emotional vacuum. I was sort of aware of it, especially during sex that we were taking things for granted. But I generally tried to keep the big picture in mind.
Occasionally, if she wasn't around, I'd check her tablet and read her texts. This was mostly out of curiosity, not suspicion. I knew Steph's friends, and most of us got along, so when she was texting I'd peek over occasionally and ask what was going on, and she'd tell me. Likewise, I'd relate some funny stuff about my friends.
We knew about our private lives before we got together, so we had our exes in our social media accounts. In the pre-Facebook era, it was taboo for both of us. I found an ex was living overseas, so I had contacted her by e-mail. She was happy to hear from me, and we had a short correspondence until I told my wife, and she was livid. It was OK to have a crush from junior high in your address book, but someone with whom you had once been intimate was crossing the line in Stephanie's book. So I apologized profusely for my ignorance, and promptly cut it off.
Once Facebook hit critical mass, you were able to find pretty much anyone, so naturally my curiosities were aroused. I lurked a bit at some old girlfriends' pages, but knowing that contact was taboo, I sent no friend requests. That changed the day when, In the course of my research, I found her first serious boyfriend from high school was on FB, so I passed his info along to her as an FYI. She looked him up and discovered he had become a published author, so she bought a copy of his novel on Amazon to read. That was pretty cool, I thought.
The following week, she asked my permission to contact him, just to catch up. I said I had no problem, and I wanted to contact one of my old flames as well because we did care for each other after we'd parted ways. So Stephanie reluctantly agreed, and our little taboo was no more. As a way of showing we trusted each other, we passed along anecdotes about our exes, and kept the chats short and sweet.
Several years went by, and we'd pretty much let this be a "gimme" in our relationship. Still friends on paper with the exes, brief correspondences, and if either one of us was worried, we'd take things down a notch, and reassure each other of our loyalty. I was not worried for one minute that her friendship with "Jack" was anything but.
If I had any reason to doubt my instincts on the first message I'd read, the subsequent texts, capped by this most recent ping in the middle of the night, threw out any and all suspension of disbelief. Something was going on, and things were taking a very sexual tone, fast. Some late night IM-ing on a camping trip followed by God knows what happened on video...then a few months later, talk of a visit. And now, that message:
- Thinking about you again... I'd really love another chance to 'chat', LOL
What had gone on during this last "chat"...while you were a couple hundred miles away in a cabin with your girlfriends all asleep? While my mind could race at hundred miles an hour waxing eloquently on the erotic possibilities, I needed to be rational here. An affair left unchecked can become a very serious issue...even a deal breaker for either of us.
Obviously, they hadn't met locally yet, because they were only recently talking about a visit, in pretty passive terms compared to the level of sexual detail they'd shared up to that point. So he was a couple thousand miles off at home still. If any "affair" was taking place, it was emotional, and in the early stages. I could live with that. Could be a quick heavy flirtation, then back to business and our regular lives. But now he wanted to meet again online...and do what, exactly?
Confronting my wife with this finding was possible, but I still had no basis of knowing exactly what was happening. For all I knew, I could be as wrong as Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn, and get myself really humiliated and in a lot of trouble to boot.
It might be better to hold off until an actual meeting occurred online, and I'd have access to a longer transcript to get more facts. But Steph would have to agree to a meeting first. He made the invitation, and now the ball was in her court. So I'd wait and see what was going to come about. If nothing happened, then I could just drop the matter. If something did...well, we'd know more and have a bigger decision to make.
Once I got my thoughts in order, I was OK until it was time for lunch. That's when it hit me that she could be texting him during her own lunch break. I felt clammy again. Would she? What would they say? A lot could happen in an hour. Knowing that she kept the same accounts on her phone as on her iPad at home, I realized that I could see some of her conversations in real time. Good god! What if they're talking now? I had to know.
I got into the car and raced home, and ran upstairs to our bedroom. I found the tablet, and checked the messages. Nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief, and then felt the shame creep in on me I always felt when my hunch was wrong. What a fucking waste of time. I got back in the car and headed back to the office to finish the workday.
At night, I saw Stephanie sitting in the bed, texting her friends again. I scanned her face for any telltale changes. Nothing. She was looking rather seriously at her messages, which meant she was probably reading a long diatribe by her mother or bestie about something wrong with the man they were with, and then she'd follow up with four or five minutes of steady writing.
But suddenly, she stopped and stared thoughtfully at her screen. Then, a slow smile began to creep on her face, and she pounded out a few quick notes before her face broke into a broad grin. Then she turned the iPad off and rolled over to get some shuteye.
"Good news?" I asked.
"Huh?" she replied.
"You looked pretty happy there for a minute."
"Oh. Yeah, I got some good news from Kath. Sorry, I've got a big day coming up, and I'm really tired."
As she lay sleeping, I thought about her latest IM exchange. As I was wondering if I should snoop on her again, the iPad chimed again with another message. I snuck over and looked it up. I deliberately scrolled back to get the entire conversation they'd had that morning. It read:
- ...I'd really love another chance to "chat", LOL.
- Me too. But FaceTime's a little risky.
- Yeah, my wife may look at my iPad and see the call. There must be some other way.
- Let me think.
- I really want to see your face again.
- Me too.
- Maybe there's a website where we could talk on webcam without anyone knowing?
- Hmm...hey, you know what? There's these online chatrooms where you can do just that anonymously.
- Oh, rly?
- Yeah, have you heard of ChatSpank?
- Oh my god. You know about that site?
- Yeah, I caught my husband a few times looking at it. But you know, it's perfect because you go there to watch people masturbate online and you can talk to them. Everyone's anonymous. And you can go into a private session and nobody would see you.
- You know, I never thought of it that way.
- Do you have an account?
- You're kidding, right? It's morbidcock92.
- Ha! I remember that! Your little guy's nickname!
- And the year we were an item. What's yours?
- I'll get it set up. Hang on...ScarlettCarPet. How's that?
- LOL. I remember your hair color quite well.
- Are you sure you want to do this?
- Yeah, but I gotta check on what my wife's doing. We may be both into swinging, but it's different since it's you. I'll let you know when I can guarantee she's not in.
- Ditto. xoxo
Oh man. They wanted to have a private talk online. And if this was going to take place in a sex chatroom, there was only one possible way this was going to go.
And now, the final note that came in while she slept:
- How about tomorrow night?
How about it, indeed? Man, shit was getting real fast.
* * * * * * *
In the darkness of our room, while Stephanie slept, I was wide awake, furiously in thought. I suspected my wife was being unfaithful; now had it in writing. This was sexual, plain and simple. Thanks to me, I had given them the impetus to meet, and they found themselves still in sexual intrigue after all this time. Now they had deliberately created the possibility of a clandestine meeting sometime in the near future.
This got my gorge rising. My wife, a cheat! And with boy #1 at that. And I had no-one to blame but myself. It was out of my hands at this point, and I couldn't confront her on this - first, nothing had happened yet, and second, what the hell was I doing spying on her anyway? Third, I gave her the means to contact him, so at best I shared the blame for putting them back together.
My hands were tied - momentarily, at least, until I could get some concrete evidence of the impending tryst. But thanks to the web, they had a resource to chat anonymously - and I had no way of knowing what would go down. I mean, you could easily do the math, but I didn't have a way to see this happening that would hold up in court.
Or did I? I had a sudden burst of inspiration that broke me out of my funk.
Unbeknownst to Stephanie, I was a ChatSpank user mod, which gave me enough power on the site to ban assholes who harassed the girls and guys on cams from the rooms. And to avoid any trouble on the "private" shows requiring a password, my privs extended there as well should anybody prove to be uncooperative. Effectively it gave me license to spy anywhere on the site...even on my wife!
Well, now it was certain that my wife was in the early stages of stepping out on our marriage, which absolutely terrified me. At the same time, I couldn't turn away, especially as it was happening right in front of me in a very convenient way for me to access. That excited me beyond belief. I was repulsed by the thought of my wife getting sexual outside our marital agreement, but the fear and stress built up in me made me profoundly aroused.
I looked down and saw my cock tenting in my PJ's. I loosened the waistband and looked down. Holy shit, it was hard! Every vein was popping out, and the head was an angry purple. Precum had started to drip from the meatus. Just like a young teen knowing he was finally going to lose his virginity, my cock had responded to the stress and excitement with the same intensity.
I was a sea of confused emotions, but the old soldier was standing rigidly at attention, aching and ready for business. I gripped the shaft and started stroking, and thinking about my wife on ChatSpank made me rigid with excitement and burning with lust to a level I'd never felt before in a committed relationship. It was like I was a participant as much as they were. Precum was now leaking out of my cock and I beat off furiously, until I came hard and gobs of cum spilled over my fist. Ohmygod! I was panting from the excitement knowing I could really be in for a show.
I cleaned up and went to bed, plotting how I could get this thing to happen. I wouldn't know the consequences until later, but for now, I needed concrete proof that my hunches were no longer paranoid bursts of imagination. And I was going to get it.
I racked my brain for an opportunity to be called away suddenly so I could view this meeting from afar. And then it hit me. I had an afternoon offsite conference followed by business networking that I could easily slip away from. No-one would be in the office working late. And I could log into that chat room and see what was going to happen!
* * * * * * *
The next morning, I called my wife from work and told her that I had an emergency team "triage" session on the product we were releasing, and I would be home very late, probably past midnight. Usually, she responded with a flat tone of resignation, and I would apologize and promise to handle the kids for her the next night. But she was cheerful, and told me not to worry, get a good dinner and drive home safe. Bingo. I knew she saw her window of opportunity and was going to go for it.
I finished work a few hours late, and went to a nearby restaurant for dinner, and watched TV in the bar until it was roughly the time for the kids to be put in bed. Another half hour to unwind, and then she'd probably get online. I drove back to work, signed in with security, headed to my office, locked the door and drew the blinds.
I got out my tablet, and made certain I hadn't been connected to the company Wi-Fi. I didn't know how vigilant IT was about internet usage, but I didn't want to take any chances streaming adult content on the network. So I checked the tablet was properly on 4G, logged into my ChatSpank account, and waited.
The splash page had tabs for different categories of webcams that were online, so I switched between "women" and "men" and browsed for the names morbidcock92 and ScarlettCarPet. Since they weren't planning on playing to a public audience, I had to search the back pages through the players with the least amount of viewers or in "private show" mode.
At about 9:45, I saw the name ScarlettCarPet, with the picture above it greyed out and a superimposed title that ScarlettCarPet was in a private show. Bingo.
I clicked the link and got taken into the room. Hopefully she wouldn't see the indicator to the right that another user was in the room, even though he was labeled as a mod. No alarms were raised.
There she was, staring directly into the screen, with a wine glass in her hand. She was smiling as she stared, that quiet look one gives when they are relaxed and sexually attentive. Her red curly hair was down from her usual ponytail, and flowing around her shoulders. She was still wearing her navy blue blouse from work, which meant that she didn't want to waste time getting ready for this call.
I couldn't see David, but I could tell he was on the line because he was texting. Her audio was on, which I could tell because I could her breathing and the sound of her typing on her keyboard. I suppose she was typing because she didn't realize the audio was on, or didn't want to wake the kids. Another typical night of sexy chatting.
I could see their chat in the text box on the right.
- God, you look fantastic.
- Thank you.
- I didn't know if you wanted to see me after I signed off last night. I was afraid you would chicken out.
- Sorry, I didn't know my husband's schedule. Then he told me this morning he had to work late.
- Lucky me. :)
They talked a bit more about things, old high school memories and recaps of mutual friends, and the scandal stories everyone brings up during reunions. And the divorce count of all the alumni.
- God, what would I do if my husband found out? He'd divorce me, but fast.
- How do you know he's not getting any on the side?
Steph frowned, then broke into a sarcastic smile.
- He's got a loyal streak. And he's a very attentive lover. We just don't have time to enjoy it much these days. He's rarely out of the house at night, with the exception of work stuff. I don't think he's that kind of guy.
- You're lucky. My wife left me two weeks ago.
- OMG. What happened?
- She just packed up and moved out. She didn't say. I'm sure she'll let me know later on...probably one of her lovers made a long-term offer to her that she liked.
- Jesus. I'm sorry.
- Thanks. I'll be OK. We've done this before. Maybe she'll come back after six weeks and we'll rehash the 'no blame' talk and settle back down. I mean, I'll try to figure out what to do on my end and hope she'll improve things on hers.
- You need counseling.
- Been there, done that. We like fucking the pain away.
- Is that why you're talking with me tonight?
- No, LOL. Well, maybe a bit. I am very glad we're talking again. It's good to have an old friend in your life.
Stephanie was resting her chin on one hand, elbow on the desk. The other played very slowly with the stem of the wine glass. She took a long sip.
- I'm on my third glass now. Can you tell?
- I needed to get up the nerve to do this. I wasn't sure where this would end up.
- Well, if it helps, I'm really enjoying my shit tonight.
- How high are you?
- I'm feeling good. But still functional. I'm very appreciative of the way you look right now.
Stephanie's hand moved slowly from her chin to her shoulder, and she began to stroke it absent-mindedly.
- I'm amazed you still appreciate me.
- Well, what can I say, I never quite got over you. And I'm really glad you're here tonight with me.
- Wow. LOL. Thank you. I'm still torn between knowing you're my ex-boyfriend, but I think I have a major crush on you again after all this time.
- Me too. You get better with age.
Her hand was now against her collarbone, thumb gently stroking the sternum.
- Now that you're relaxed, can I ask you a question?
She stopped briefly, then stared into the screen.
- What is it?
- Are you wearing anything under your blouse?
Stephanie paused, then smiled slowly, and her eyes brightened impishly.
- My bra.
- What color is it?
- Really? Is it lacy?
- A little.
- Can you show me a bit?
Stephanie thought for a moment, then undid two buttons on her blouse, and slid the collar over to her shoulder, revealing the strap. Then she sat back and smiled, and left the blouse unbuttoned.
- OK, the strap is satin. Is there lace anywhere?
- You're being rather forward, she typed, smiling.
- Let me see more? Pretty please?
- OK, since you were so nice about it.
Her fingers undid two more buttons, and the blouse billowed open, revealing the inner curves of two round, 38DDs covered in a black lacy bra. In the dim light of our bedroom you could not see past the lace, but I knew that bra well. I traced the outline of her pink areolae that in daylight could be barely seen through the camouflage of the lace stitching. Oh god, I thought. My heart began to pound.
- Jesus, you still look fantastic. I imagined you looking just like this!
She grinned, and then closed the blouse over her breasts, leaving it unbuttoned. The blouse fell neatly on her breasts, and parted open like curtains to reveal her amazing cleavage.
- Well, now you've seen I'm still conservatively dressed, LOL, she wrote
- I love thinking about you wearing that at work.
- I do have a jacket on during the day. And I'm buttoned up. I'm not trying to be an exhibitionist here. Excluding tonight.
- Wanna show me some more?
Her hands moved down the blouse, and she slid it off her shoulders. Her breasts seemed to strain against her bra.
My hands started shaking. I felt like I was in a train wreck that I couldn't stop, and didn't want to stop, either.
- Wow. Incredible.
She smiled, and took another drink. She gazed slyly at the camera.
Dave's text appeared.
- OK, you got my attention. What do you want me to do?
- Well, fair's fair. Take your shirt off too.
She smiled into the camera.
- Your turn.
- What now?
- I'd like to see them again.
Stephanie laughed and shook her head "no".
- Maybe I could persuade you?
She stared intently into the camera, then her eyes widened. She smiled approvingly.
- My, Dave. You certainly have grown.
Oh my god. He's showing her his cock now!
- You like?
- Okay, mister. You win.
Her hands moved slowly around the straps and pulled them over her shoulders. By now my cock was straining in my pants, pulsating in anticipation.
- More, more...
She giggled, reached back and undid the clasp in the back, then moved her arms over her breasts, covering them.
- Please, Stephanie...oh baby.
Hell, I was saying please too!
Stephanie's arms slid down her chest, pulling the fabric down with them. As she did so, her breasts popped over her forearms, revealing themselves for the first time to the internet. Beautiful, soft and round, splashed in freckles, with giant pink nipples served on saucers of areolae. She looked up at the camera, and for a brief second it seemed like she was looking at me again, the first night we had made love and I got to see her amazing, sensual shape. She could kill a man at fifty yards with those tits!
- Fuck, baby. I can't believe this.
- Glad you still appreciate them.
She caressed them gently, playfully.
- Can you do that thing you did before?
She thought for a moment, then typed:
- Did anything grow for me?
A brief pause, and then she smiled broadly. She picked up one gorgeous tit, placed the nipple in her mouth to suck it, then flicked her little pink tongue over its erected form. It stuck out like a thumb.
By now, I was rubbing my cock through my pants, nursing the aching sensation I felt. It was like a thick bat against the palm of my hand. Jolts of pleasure surged through my body. Although I felt humiliated and helpless, I was so turned on. I needed to see this through, no matter the aftermath. I unzipped my trousers and pulled free my raging hard cock. I gripped the shaft like a remote, waiting for the next part of the program.
- Very nice. Can I see you play with it?
She stared, and then played with her breasts in response to whatever she was witnessing. He was certainly jerking off as I was. Steph pinched her hard nipples and rolled them between her fingers.
- Baby, what else you got for me?
- Oh...let's see. Do you want to see what else I've been wearing today?
- Oh yes please!
She rolled the chair back, and revealed that she had been sitting on the chair all this time with her skirt off. She moved a hand up her thigh, and slowly spread her legs apart. She was totally naked below the waist. Her pubic hair created a red, velvety triangle that she ran her hand down, and rubbed against her labia. Then she spread them apart until her pussy was completely on display.
- Oh my god. Wow.
She licked her finger, and moved it back to her vagina and made slow, gentle circles around the top. Biting her lip, she looked up and nodded her head to the camera as if to say "keep going". I obliged, and so must have Dave because he had stopped texting altogether.
My precum had started to leak out, and I rubbed my palm over the head of my prick and rolled it around until I had become slick as a wet log. I moved my hand in time to Stephanie's movements, and watched her for what seemed like eternity. She was masturbating for another man, but it looked just like she was doing it for me. I was in mental agony but feeling exquisite pleasure like I had never felt before.
Steph carefully inserted one finger into her vagina, and she moved it slowly back and forth, slowly. Her eyes became heavy lidded with the pleasure she was feeling, and she kept the slow, deliberate pace. It was just like when we were making out on Saturdays, and I would tease her pussy for ages with my forefinger circling inside her pussy while simultaneously tonguing her clit. Then she pulled out and inserted two fingers.
Her hand started to twist inside her pussy, and I could see she was in the heightened pleasure stage. She grabbed a breast and squeezed it, moaning softly. She alternated her gaze between her work and what she saw on the monitor, which was David' cock being given a working over. She'd smile admiringly, then focused on her own pleasure.
My cock was wet. Usually when I masturbated I needed some lotion or a little spit when the precum dried up, but I was leaking like a dripping faucet. No help needed at all. This show had me so worked up I was afraid of blowing my load too soon.
Steph had now started to work on her clit with her thumb. Her pubic hair was soaked with her juice, and she was flushed. She stared at the monitor with deliberation, and began to masturbate in earnest. With every twist of her hand in her pussy, I revolved my palm around the shaft of my cock, moving it over the edge of the helmet. Every time she moved her hand in and out, I stroked up and down with the same rhythm. She sat back in her chair and breathed harder and harder as her excitement built. Her other hand was now pinching her nipples in earnest.
Suddenly she moaned "Oh!", then whispered loudly "fuckfuckfuckohhh..." and arched backward, lifting her pelvis up. Her pussy faced the camera, and her hand moved furtively inside her hot little honey-hole. She bucked in her chair, and made small noises, gradually getting harder and louder. I beat off in desperation, ready to pop any second.
Finally, with a large groan, she whispered loudly "Oh god oh god oh god oh god...yessss!! Her entire body trembled and shook in her chair. She froze, body completely clenched, then relaxed as her orgasm subsided.
I couldn't take any more. My body began to feel the strange, prickly heat build up in my perineum, spread to my buttocks, thighs, pelvis and torso as I slid my fist up and down on my cock. I began to shake, and I gripped the desk for support for fear of falling. Instantly my hips bucked, and white hot cum erupted upward from my prick, shooting rope upon rope of thick semen on my desktop. I was gasping for breath.
I looked up at the screen. Stephanie was leaning forward in her chair, her pendulous breasts resting on her forearms. She looked up at the monitor, and then broke out into a laugh.
- You looked fucking fantastic baby.
She grinned, then typed:
- You weren't so bad yourself.
- That was so goddamn hot. I can't believe how sexy you were.
- You looked like you enjoyed it, too.
- I don't remember cumming this hard.
Me neither, I thought.
Steph smiled, and gently bit her finger.
- Well, what can I say? I have that effect on people. You got me pretty worked up there also.
- What I wouldn't give to do that again.
- I need a break! LOL
- Well, I'd be up to it in about 10 minutes myself...or another day when convenient.
Steph appeared thoughtful.
- Not sure...well, he owes me for working late and leaving me with the kids. I could have a "girls' night" sometime...
- I could definitely enjoy seeing your girls again...so that wouldn't be too off base?
- No, dear. I'm sure they'd love to see your appreciation cum forth, pun intended... :)
- LOL. OK, when?
- I'll let you know.
- I can't wait. Goodnight.
She signed off, and he left the chat room.
Holy shit! They were planning the next meeting already! My cock was starting to swell up again from the thought, but the ache in my perineum warned me off. Besides, it was late. I needed to get home.
I waited half an hour, then made certain I'd left no trace of my "appreciation" in the office. I went to my car and thought for a bit before turning on the engine.
Well, it was official. My wife was cheating on you! But the odd thing was, as hurt as I felt about the sneaking around and betrayal, I was feeling pretty good as well. Euphoric, even. I felt a new appreciation for my wife that I'd forgotten for some time, and the competitive streak in me was awake once more.
And I felt something else, too: the incredible rush of excitement that I had successfully spied on my wife fingering herself and getting off with her online ex-boyfriend, and I didn't get caught! And it really turned me on to think of seeing her in such a carefree, erotic state, working herself up to uninhibited orgasmic bliss.
Holy shit, I was a voyeur. I loved the ecstasy of discovering new erotic dimensions in my own mind too. I wanted to see this happen again, and again.
Well, the only thing to do was let this thing play out. And all I had to do was "help" them find the opportunity to keep meeting...and use my wits to keep looking without getting caught!
I drove home to my sleeping wife. I kissed her gently on her back as I turned in. She moaned in pleasure, and rolled over, revealing her bare back and ass. She'd never slept naked before. I let my hands roam over her fine shape as she slept, stopping to squeeze her heavenly ass. She moaned again quietly. I kissed her once more, and went to sleep.
Things were going to change for all of us. All I had to do was watch.