Message-ID: <53066asstr$1139573401@assm.asstr.org> X-Original-To: story-submit@asstr.org Delivered-To: story-submit@asstr.org X-Original-Path: 7cfa7d7f!not-for-mail From: "yENC Man" <yencman@hotmaildot.com> X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2900.2670 X-RFC2646: Format=Flowed; Original X-Original-Message-ID: <qqZGf.6771$5E3.3515@newsread1.news.pas.earthlink.net> NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 10 Feb 2006 01:55:34 PST X-Greylisting: NO DELAY (Relay+Sender autoqualified); processed by UCSD_GL-v2.1 on mailbox4.ucsd.edu; Fri, 10 February 2006 01:55:35 -0800 (PST) X-Spamscanner: mailbox4.ucsd.edu (v1.6 Aug 4 2005 15:27:38, -1.6/5.0 3.0.4) X-MailScanner: PASSED (v1.2.8 74567 k1A9tYS7074684 mailbox4.ucsd.edu) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 10 Feb 2006 09:55:34 GMT Subject: {ASSM} I Watched Her Fall, parts 1-26 complete (slutwife, cheating, cuckold, voyeur) Lines: 1213 Date: Fri, 10 Feb 2006 07:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr.org/Year2006/53066> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-admin@asstr.org> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@asstr.org> X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw (You're doing a heckuva job, Brownie!) http://gropedinpublic.blogspot.com/2006/01/back-seat-slut.html I Watched Her Fall by Michael Brown It was a cold, damp rainy December evening when it happened. Sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, but really not. Even now, just days later, it seems unreal, almost as though it were long ago, in a story or a dream. But my shaking hands, my knotted stomach, my lurid thoughts announce that it was no dream. The night featured one of those functions you get trapped into attending when you've got a political patronage job with the Pennsylvania Department of Commerce. A reception, a fund-raiser, what's the difference? They drop the tickets on your desk and suggest that you'll want to be purchasing a couple. Don't have to actually go to the function, of course, but you'll want the tickets. The picture is clear. So I had two tickets, and by damned, my wife and I were going. Lots of food, lots of booze and we could probably make a pretty good evening out of it, but it didn't get off to a very good start. Bonnie was unhappy about going, since she despised the politics of it all, and wasn't happy about my being mixed up in the whole process, even at the basement level where I was working. It was a continuing sore point, and Bonnie was mollified only to the point where she grudgingly accepted the fact that it was a job I badly needed, having spent 10 months unemployed after graduating from college, and already having a wife and two small children. As for me, I was unhappy about her being unhappy. We got ready pretty much in silence, but I had to admit that she did look good, as always. She wore a green dress, which matched her eyes and set off her medium length blonde hair. The short, loose-fitting skirt showed off her legs to good advantage, and the tight waist helped make the most of her relatively tiny breasts. At least she had a couple of decent dresses to wear. I was wearing a suit I had lugged around since high school, but it was the only choice I had, and I wasn't very happy about that, either. Couldn't look good if I tried, I thought. I was just zipping her up when the sitter arrived, so we said goodnight to the kids and we left, stopping by in Camp Hill on the way to pick up my friend and coworker Pat, who had bummed a ride with me so his wife could use their car to go to work. When he got in the car, Pat was ready to party, as usual. "I've got a joint rolled for the road," he announced. The three of us passed it around as we drove through Harrisburg and down to the Hershey Hotel, where the fund raiser was being held. His presence warmed our moods up a little, and it seemed like the evening might go pretty well. I Watched Her Fall Part 2 But it didn't. Somehow as the evening passed, every little contact between Bonnie and I seemed to produce more friction. She was a stay-at-home mom, and had the feeling that the world (which included me) was passing her by. Everything seemed to make her suspicious at times, and that night was one of those times. As she focused on who I was speaking to or dancing with, she didn't seem to notice the admiring glances she was receiving from the men present. As the evening ran its course, and we continued to party, an inebriated kind of glum sobriety settled over the two of us. Then, just as the crowd was beginning to show signs of thinning out, I made what I thought would be one last quick trip to the men's room before we headed out. When I returned, Bonnie was gone. I spotted her moments later on the dance floor with someone I didn't recognize. Suddenly, in the company of that man, she had become vivacious and friendly. They danced one song after another, staying out on the floor where he held her and spun with her and they talked and laughed, and I sat cooling my heels, wondering if she was finally allowing herself to have a little fun, or was just twisting the knife. Expecting us to be going, Pat had sat down at the table with me. He had a friend with him, a woman named Rose who was a secretary for one of the Pennsylvania senators. Could we give her a ride home, Pat wanted to know? I said sure. "Where's Bonnie?" he asked. I pointed to the dance floor. He observed for a while. "She's having a good time now," he pronounced. "You'd better look out!" That was all I needed to hear. Bonnie was young and pretty and sexy. Anybody could see that. But Pat knew more than that. He was the guy I usually confided in whenever we had too much to drink and started swapping stories. In the couple of years we had worked together, I had revealed - in little bits and pieces - not only a portrait of our struggles and problems as a married couple, but of our secret pleasures as well. I never felt really comfortable talking about the things Bonnie and I did, but in the context of everyone seeming to have a whole series of outrageous adventures, I just couldn't shut up all the time. In some of my more sober moments, I regretted both the bragging and the complaining, and I only hoped that Bonnie wouldn't find out about what I had confided. And now here was Pat reminding me that he remembered everything I'd told him. What I'd never told him, though (if I could trust my own memory), was how much my relationship with Bonnie twisted me up in knots. Probably it was partly because I hadn't had much experience with women when she and I met just a month before I went to college, and partly because she was an insecure girl in her mid-teens, tempting and beautiful and hungry for attachment. Our relationship burst out of the I Watched Her Fall Part 3 blocks quickly, and within a few weeks of dating we had passed from kissing to petting to incessant sex. I had never had a real girlfriend, and certainly never one who wanted to be loved as often as possible. Once she had made up her mind, there had been no games, no phony resistance for the sake of image, no guilt and no shame. She was a hungry sixteen year old beauty who had found the way to feed her appetite. God, I hated to leave for college that fall. Intoxicated with this delicious creature who only wanted to be pleasured as often as possible, I trembled with the fear of losing her to another while I was away. That was the time when she learned how to manipulate and torment me. She was young, but seemed to understand powerful emotions like jealousy and lust. Her world was centered on me, for better or worse, and she used her looks and her desires as links to chain me, as a whip to lash me, as straps to bind me. And I was firmly bound, running to her and bringing her to me, hungry to possess her and afraid to let her alone. And, despite our differences and our immaturities, it propelled us eventually to the altar. But it wasn't those fears Pat had in mind when he said "look out." He didn't know about them. I kept them to myself. He was talking about what I'd told him about how much she loved sex, the way her appetite grew when she had been drinking, and the way she feasted on the attentions of other men, who buzzed around her like flies, seemingly able to sniff the nectar of her passions. They probed, they groped, looking for the key that would unlock her for themselves. And she knew. Even through her early married years and two babies, she gained in beauty if not in confidence. Even though she knew that men wanted her, she remained painfully insecure. Much of the pain was transferred to me. Out of anger, out of jealousy, she would tease me with innuendo. She would make hints and suggestions about herself and her behavior that would frighten me and torment me with suspicions and the insecurities of my own. I remembered vividly the time I was with her when we were arguing about whether I was going out to Indiana with some college friends the following weekend. She didn't want me to go, she didn't want to be alone, she said. Then she twisted the knife. "If you knew about some of the things I've done when you weren't around, you'd go crazy," she said. All of a sudden, I went to jelly. My knees got weak, my voice trembled. "What . what are you saying?" I implored, suddenly terrified that she had been in the arms (and the bed) of another man. It was a state of terror that she found easy to maintain, and it continued into our married years. Needless to say, I didn't make that trip to Indiana. And, needless to say, those suggestions continued to hang out there as fodder for every insecure suspicion of my own, because she would always say eventually that she had just been angry and was trying to frighten me. But I wondered. With every day at work and every road trip, with every argument or fight or every complaint of hers that she wasn't getting enough sex, I fretted and worried and spent long moments having lurid fantasies about her with other men, fantasies she continued to feed with her offhand remarks, fantasies that had attained a level of texture and detail that might have stunned her I Watched Her Fall Part 4. Eventually Bonnie and her partner finished dancing, but she had to drag him over for an introduction. He was tall and handsome, of course, and had an uncomfortable countenance I've seen before, not having planned to meet the husband. And Bonnie was gushing, obviously intoxicated, making introductions while we all shuffled awkwardly. After too many experiences, I did not respond to these staged events well. I was sure it was part of twisting the knife, and I had little to say. Fortunately Pat picked up the cue and stepped in and made some chatty conversation with the guy, who turned out to be a lobbyist for a state labor organization. When her partner left, Bonnie sat down with us, and I said "it looks like you were having a pretty good time." "It could have been even better," she replied almost off-handishly, "he invited me up to his room." No wonder the guy looked uncomfortable. Pat and Rose exchanged glances, then looked at me. I tried to be outwardly cavalier, but inside the turmoil was beginning. It always, always worked. "So why didn't you go?" I asked her with feigned unconcern. "Because my husband was watching," was her flippant reply. Ever helpful, Pat chimed right in. "I told you, MB, you'd better look out," he said, laughing. "She'll be slipping around the dark end of the street before long." Bonnie laughed too, but it was more like a knowing snicker. "Before long?" she asked Pat. "Don't you mean again?" Her eyes darted towards me to gauge my reaction. I gave one of those yeah, right looks, rolling my eyes up toward the ceiling before taking another long swig of my beer. Rose looked on with rapt attention. Pat was equal to the moment. "Not that I know anything about," he retorted. "Maybe you can tell me all about it sometime." Bonnie giggled with what I thought was a tone of perverse delight, then tossed her head back with an expression of proud defiance and said, "I may just do that." I Watched Her Fall Part 5 While outside I tried to maintain a casual composure, inwardly I was now confused, frightened and furious. What was she doing? Why was she playing this game in front of other people? It was bad enough when we played it in private. I was ready to go, and already imagining what the drive home was going to be like after we dropped Pat and Rose off. The reception room was rapidly clearing out. I suggested that anyone who needed to should make a last pit stop while I went and got the car. We agreed to meet at the side entrance near the rest rooms. Rose looked at me with some concern, then turned to Pat and asked, "can he drive?" Pat looked at me closely. "Yeah, I think so," he pronounced. "Besides, he'll have to, 'cause she sure can't!" But Bonnie, busily scanning the room with her eyes, missed the remark. Pat leaned close to me and whispered in my ear, as though it had some relationship to the comment he had just made, "I've got a doobie for the road all ready, as soon as we drop off Rose." Somehow, that made me feel better. I got up, got my coat and headed out into what my dad used to call a "heavy dew" to get the car. I pulled it around to the entrance we had agreed on and waited, leaving the engine idling to warm things up. I was still shaken by Bonne's provocative comments and, just as she intended, I began wondering what she would have done if I hadn't been watching, if I hadn't been there. My masochistic reveries were interrupted by a tap on the back window. To my surprise, it was Rose. I opened the front door and invited her in. "You may as well sit up here," I said. "It's warmer, and I don't know where the others are." Pat had stopped to talk to a friend, Rose explained, and added "your wife was talking to that guy she was dancing with a while ago." Well, that just figured. The knot in my stomach grew tighter. "She likes to make you jealous, doesn't she," Rose asked me. I just nodded. "Why?" I shrugged my shoulders, as though I had no idea. But there were so many reasons. Reasons rooted in history and psychology and human nature. Plus the one big overriding one: because I let her. But all those feelings of pain and suspicion and anger and fear and obsession and fascination that seemed to get all mixed up inside me when she did it left me feeling terribly inarticulate. I just didn't know how I could put all those sensations into a coherent explanation. "I guess it's just .," I began to say, and then my voice trailed away. It was a lump in my throat this time. "Poor guy," Rose said. I've known her for a half hour, I thought, and she already feels sorry for me. Just great. I Watched Her Fall Part 6 I forced myself to change the subject and make small talk for a few minutes, so that Rose didn't think I was a complete loser. Soon there was a second knock on the back window, and this time it was Pat. He opened the door and got in, and I noticed that Bonnie was right behind him. Rose was preparing to get out in the rain to move to the back seat, but I told her to forget it. "She can ride in the back," I pronounced. I was not in a catering mood. Bonnie got in the back seat beside Pat and slammed the door. "Fine," she snapped. She now officially measured angry on the standard mood chart. Rose's and my eyes met. Attitude noted. While we drove Rose home, Pat brought me up to date on what the friend he had run into had been telling him about political changes in the legislature. I noticed in the rear view mirror that Bonnie had another full beer, which she must have picked up before she came out. When we arrived at Rose's and she and Pat had gotten out, I asked Bonnie for a drink. "How do you know I have a drink?" she challenged me. "I saw you drinking it in the rear view mirror," I said. "You're spying on me in the mirror," she snapped. "You're afraid of what I might do. You're afraid I'll have some fun." That got me going. "According to you, you've already had a lot of back seat fun I don't know about," I retorted. "What's one more time?" "You fucker!" "I'm honored, since that's a label you seem proud to attach to yourself!" "Shut up!" "You shut up!" So, we did shut up, and sat there in silence until Pat came back to the car. Seemingly unaware of the chill inside that easily matched the one outside, he reached in his coat and pulled out both the promised joint, and a bottle of wine. He waved the bottle. "I borrowed this from Rose," he announced. "I didn't tell her what it was for." "What is it for?" I asked, knowing full well. "To wash down this smoke." Yep. I Watched Her Fall Part 7 At Pat's direction, I steered through Rose's neighborhood until we came to a lot where new construction was beginning. He directed us to a spot that was out of sight of any occupied buildings and away from any traffic. "Sometimes when I come over to see Rose, I swing by here and smoke a joint," he said. "Rose doesn't really like it in her house that much." While he lit the joint and opened the bottle of wine, he talked about Rose, who he said was a few years older than him and pretty much of a straight arrow. Bonnie, of course, wanted to get to the heart of the issue. "Are you sleeping with her?" she demanded to know, although it came out more like "schleeping." She was really drunk. "That depends," Pat answered. "Can you keep your mouth shut?" She insisted she could, but Pat wasn't having any of it. While she pressed, he avoided the question until I believe she just forgot that she had asked it. We were all so buzzed that we only finished half the joint and I butted it in the ashtray to finish later. And with the consumption of more drink, I had to go to the bathroom. I had been the one who hadn't had to go when we left the hotel. Now it had caught up to me. It was so dark where we had parked that I had to turn on the low beams to light a path to where I could go in private. When I got outside the car, I realized that I was pretty well shot myself, and my pace was slow and unsteady in the headlight beams. As I walked away from the car, my tormented state of mind came rushing back. I began to wonder what the two of them were doing back in the car. He was fresh and forward enough when sober, and alcohol and hemp made him worse. And her . who knew? Everything I had ever told him about her began to scroll through my mind, especially the things I had said about our back seat games. Even though we were married and had a bed to go home to, there were many nights when we had been out partying that we didn't make it home before we gave in to our urges. It was so delicious to act like the teenagers we used to be and go parking: kissing and touching and fondling and undressing and loving in the excitement of our cramped, dark car. I had told Pat all about it, and I was now left to wonder if he was back in that car, thinking about what I'd said, sitting so close to her, alone in the dark and wondering about whether what he had been told might be the key that would unlock her secret doors. With those kinds of thoughts obsessing me, I should have been in a hurry to get back, but for some reason I was compelled to take my time. I walked way out where the headlight beams were beginning to be swallowed by the night, and I found a place just off in the bushes to go. I was trembling. Fear, anticipation, dizziness, who knew? I walked back to the car at the same slow pace. They can see me coming, I thought. Plenty of time to straighten up and move apart and look innocent and proper. I Watched Her Fall Part 8 I imagined them, watching me walk away, then flying into each other's arms for brief moments of electric stolen passion. The thought made me shiver. Her taunts and veiled threats had enticed me to think about her and other men a lot, but they were mostly stick figures in my mind, constructs built out of men she had flirted with or danced with, or who she had told me about, but who I really didn't know. But Pat was very real. I knew him. That did not give me comfort, because I believed I knew his limitations. So what was I doing? Why did I leave them alone together under circumstances which could only have created the maximum of temptation for the both of them? It wasn't trust, because I couldn't imagine trust coexisting in side me with the pounding heart and trembling hands and churning stomach and lurid erotic thoughts that were coursing through me. I guess I didn't know what it was, because this was all new territory to me. Not some wrenching fantasy that distracted me at the office, or the ones I had sometimes when we made love and I imagined it was another man's arms she was in. No, this was real, and yet really nothing. My wife in the back seat with another man. My wife in the back seat with another man. That shiver coursed through me again. I must have looked like I'd been through hell when I got back to the car, because Pat said "MB, you look awful. Are you OK?" "I don't know, man," I replied. I noticed that someone had turned up the radio's volume. I pushed off the lights and the car was swallowed again by darkness. "Do you want me to drive?" Pat asked me. "I know your wife's in no shape to do it." That could have ended it if I had said yes, but what I said was "I think I just need to kick back and rest for a few minutes, and I'll be OK." For the first time all evening, Bonnie became concerned. She leaned forward and took my face in her hands. "Michael, are you going to be OK?" she asked. "You're not going to be sick or pass out, are you?" I was still with it enough to know that her interest was genuine. I also noticed that she had taken off her coat. "I think I'll be all right," I responded. "I just need a few minutes to get it together." And with that I removed my own coat and folded it into something roughly pillow-shaped that I could lean back against. With the engine running and heater on, it was very warm, almost hot, in the front seat. It would have been a few degrees cooler in the back, but still comfortable. Comfortable without coats, I thought, and comfortable without clothes. Comfortable for my wife to be undressed. Comfortable for my wife to be naked. Again that shiver, that shimmering cascading shiver. I Watched Her Fall Part 9 As I settled back and propped my feet up on the seat, Bonnie was leaning over me. "You're going to fall asleep," she insisted. "Please don't fall asleep." She actually seemed to mean it. I brushed her off. "I'll be fine," I said in a fading voice as I closed my eyes. She shook me. "Michael, honey, wake up." I murmured incoherent sounds. She shook me again. "Michael, please don't do this." I had begun deep sleep breathing. "Oh, God, I think he's out of it," she cried. With my eyes open tiny slits, I could see her hovering over me, becoming a little more visible in the near-darkness, as my eyes accustomed themselves to it. She was almost right. I almost was out of it. Tired and with my head spinning, I wasn't sure that I wouldn't drift off. It seemed like only the energy I was deriving from my runaway erotic imagination was keeping me awake. As I secretly watched her, I saw Pat's hands appear and grasp her shoulders. He began caressing them, rubbing them with his strong hands. She responded instantaneously to his touch, her head lifting and an expression of deep physical pleasure sweeping across her face. "Let him sleep it off for a while," I heard him say as his hands continued to do their work. I watched her expression, contorted both with alcohol and pleasure. She was amazing in that respect. Almost everything I'd read had said that alcohol dulled the senses and made us feel less. With Bonnie, it seemed to open her up like a flower, connecting every nerve ending everywhere to her sexual core. That's why it was so hard to make it all the way home without stopping after we had been out partying. She wanted so badly to be touched and loved that she didn't want to wait. Pat knew that. I had told him. And I'd also told him that rubbing her back and shoulders sent rushes of pleasure to the tips of her fingers and the end of her toes and everywhere else in between. Her hands tensed and she gripped the back of the seat as the waves began rushing over her. I could see the rhythm of it, as her body swayed forward and back, her eyes now tightly closed, her face grimacing and relaxing in sync with her hands, squeezing and releasing the seat. My heart was racing, too, my own breath accelerating as I secretly watched her. Even after a few seconds, I knew she was soaking wet. I heard him suggest that she sit back a little so he could reach her more comfortably, and she did it. Her head and upper body disappeared from view, but I could still see her hands, squeezing, squeezing the seat. I heard him ask something in a low tone, and she murmured a soft reply. It was going to be maddening. I wanted to hear everything, and the radio was too loud for me to pick up their intimate whispers! I began to experience a sense of frustration that threw another element into the mad mix of sensations I was already experiencing. I lay there, completely wide awake, wanting to hear, wanting to see. Wanting. I Watched Her Fall Part 10 I glanced up into the rear view mirror, but of course that was no help. Properly set, it showed me only a section of the ceiling from my low angle. All I could see were her hands, and in the next few moments they disappeared one at a time. There was nothing but the darkness and the radio, the muffled sound of intermittent whispered conversation, and the periodic rustle of clothing and body movement. Straining to hear every sound, I thought I heard her say Gail, which was Pat's wife's name; I thought I heard her say no, more than once; and I thought I heard her say I can't. But I also know I heard that knowing sexy giggle of hers and I know I heard P at say, "I don't tell anybody anything." I began hearing muffled wet-sounding smacks that sounded like kisses. And I thought I heard the sound of a zipper. Oh, God. I was almost squirming, flooded with emotions. I felt so weak, I trembled, my stomach continued to flip as I was forced to imagine what they were doing. I knew I could have stopped it, but I felt paralyzed, the way you are when you're dreaming. I seemed to have opened a door I had previously only stood outside. I was letting it happen, letting myself be drawn toward that doorway, toward . what? I felt the fears I always did, but from that newly opened door came a new swift rush of erotic fascination. I'm like a moth circling a flame, I thought. Oh, so dangerous, oh so hot, oh so delicious! Soon the sounds from the back seat became louder, and it wasn't only the sound of whispered conversation. It was Bonnie, becoming overwhelmed by the touching and beginning to give voice to it. Heavy breathing, the unmistakable sound of kisses, and low muffled cries of pleasure. "You really like that, don't you?" I heard Pat ask her. Her response was a deep moan, suddenly muffled by what had to have been a kiss. Oh, I knew what was happening, I knew what was going on. I had heard it all so many times. Her cries and moans and sighs. She was just getting started. It was just the beginning. She must have realized that, too, because suddenly her head and shoulders appeared over the back of the seat again. She nearly caught me, because I had been lying on my back with my eyes wide open, but fortunately looking toward the front windshield. She didn't appear to notice as she reached over and shook me. "Honey," she whispered, "are you still asleep?" I rolled my head back toward her and made my own low murmur. Again I opened my eyes the tiniest of slits to look at her. She was looking at me with what seemed to be an expression of resignation, an expression that said he's out of it and there's nothing I can do about it. But what I really noticed was that her shoulders were bare. I could see the top of her dress in front of her about where it ought to be, but she must have been holding it up in case I was awake. And there was something else. There were no bra straps, either. Not over her shoulders, and not hanging down on her upper arms. I Watched Her Fall Part 11 He had my wife half undressed, had removed her bra, and now I was sure where those low moans had come from. His hands on her bare skin, caressing, caressing across her back and down beneath her arms and around to the front of her, oh exploring with fingertips alive with sensation, feeling the urges deep inside him, brushing, stroking, pinching oh so gently her hard pink nipples, and her responding, helpless not to respond, beginning to be swept away. Oh, he was using everything I had told him, he was doing everything she loved. He was learning that everything I had said about her was true. The thought, the realization sent a sudden rush through me that made me dizzy and made my ears ring. I was beginning to get a disturbing thought, the thought that maybe I didn't just want to know if she would do it, but that I actually wanted her to do it. The sense of torment that had dominated my fantasies about my wife up until tonight seemed to be overwhelmed at that moment by a flood of perverse joy at the thought of what was happening. It might happen, I thought, it might happen. Oh, a delicious anticipation was beginning! Oh, I was so aroused. She was still looking over at me when he sat up behind her. I watched him kiss the nape of her neck and rub her shoulders again. Closer now, I could hear his low question, "Is he still out?" She didn't answer, but continued looking down at me. He glanced at me and looked convinced. But, looking right at me, he slid his hands over her shoulders and down along her upper arms until they disappeared from view. A few seconds later, she gave a sudden whispered gasp, her face contorted and her left arm reached back to him, her hand touching his face, holding it against her exposed neck. "Oh, Pat, this is crazy," she said in a husky whisper that told me his touch was sending surges of pleasure through her. "He's right here!" "I don't think he's going to notice." "But he might. What if he does?" "Then we'll be caught." Leave it to Pat to be perfectly blunt. But he wasn't done. "You know that's not going to happen, don't you? You know he won't wake up for a good while." He was leaning back, trying to pull her back with him. "I don't know, I don't know," she whispered in a voice both resigned and frightened. "Come on back here," he commanded, and with a last look as me, she disappeared from view. There was a lot of whispered conversation then, long minutes of it that made me almost crazy with frustration. From their tones of voice and their emotional expression, I could sense the intensity. And I could tell that he was continuing to caress her breasts and she was letting him. I wondered if she was trying to draw a line somewhere, a line that he could respect and accept, and one that could allow her to bleed for all the sexual pleasure it was worth. I wondered, too, if she was even capable of, or interested in, drawing such a line. Sex had never been a thinking exercise for Bonnie, and it had to be making her frantic to be pulled in two opposite directions at the same time, as it seemed she was. Expected to say no, but wanting to say yes. I Watched Her Fall Part 12 Her voice slowly began to get louder, and I heard her saying "no, Pat, no" and "no, we can't," firmly at first, then with more and more desperation as she seemed to be getting the worst of their struggle. I was rigid with excitement as I listened to her increasingly futile defense against his silent advances. She was whispering incessantly now, trying to get through to him. "I'm your best friend's wife" and "he's going to know" and "oh, please, please," but her words indicated they were being ignored. I could hear the murmur of his voice as he responded to her words. His tone was reassuring but assertive. He was after her, I knew he was fully after her and he was going to persist. He wasn't arguing or justifying. Just acting. I continued to be in a state of anticipatory excitement, listening to them struggle, listening to my wife's resistance weaken, then begin to crumble. "Oh, you're so strong," she gasped at one point. I could imagine them in the back seat, his right arm pinning her hands behind her while with his left he reached up her skirt, trying to force it between her legs, and her squeezing them, trying not to let him get there. I knew it was time to stop it. All my fears and jealousies and values were twisting and tormenting me, screaming at me to rise up and defend what was mine. But there was another voice, inside that last door I had opened and where I now stood at the threshold, and that voice was calling me to enter, to open my eyes to a part of me urgent to be freed. Let it wash over you, it beckoned. Come in and let it sweep you away to a new world. Oh, imagine her, your darling wife, naked to the waist, the perspiration shining on her flesh as she gives in to her passions oh, so slowly, inch by inch. Imagine the strong male hand of another man caressing her, reaching up her skirt, pushing it up around her waist, revealing her long lovely legs, stroking them, grasping them, urgent to force them apart. Let yourself imagine what's going to happen: the surrender, the betrayal, the sin. But don't be afraid, don't let your jealousy and possessiveness and fear shut this door. Let yourself feel the wonder of it, let yourself enjoy it! It's going to be thrilling! It's going to take your breath away! Give in to it, just like she's doing. Just let it happen. Just let it. That perverse inner voice was fighting my own defenses to a standstill, because I couldn't move to act. For all my anguish, for all my fears, for all my jealousy, there was that part of me that wanted to listen, wanted to hear, and, God help me, wanted to see! I wanted to see her flesh, her naked breasts, her body pinned against the corner of the back seat where we had been together so many times, the top of her dress lying in her lap , her brassiere on the floor at their feet. I wanted to see her sexy legs exposed by a strong man's hand reaching for the prize beneath her skirt. Oh, I really did want to! Yes, yes! that seductive voice whispered. That's it. Surrender to it. Surrender. I Watched Her Fall Part 13 I knew what I was imagining was happening when I heard her cry "no, Pat, no" one last frenzied time, and then she moaned and said "you're gonna make me do it, aren't you? You're not gonna let me go. You're gonna make me spread my legs for you!" Her sex talk was beginning, her voice deep and throaty. She spoke with such passion and at the same time with such an air of hopeless resignation that they made goose bumps explode all over me. Oh, God. My wife, my wife! She was giving in! Oh, the delicious despair I felt! He was going to find out all about her. Things that were still our secrets. I heard a low whisper from Pat, and Bonnie groaned in that same pained, husky voice that seemed to come from deep inside her "oh, God yes, yes I do," and then I could hear the sounds of complete surrender. She emitted a sob so passionate and so penetrating that I felt chills all over me. I could hear her gasping for breath, whimpering, and I was sure he had arrived at where he wanted to be. I heard her fervent whisper, "I'm sorry, Michael," and I shuddered from the words. Oh, then the waltz of ecstasy began, but muted because of me. I knew how loud she could be, how her screams could fill the air. But not this night. She began to express herself in muffled moans and screams and ardent whispers that sounded like hisses. I felt the car move with the motions of their bodies. I heard the liquid sound of long openmouthed kisses. I heard the thump of what I thought were probably shoes. I heard the rustling sounds of clothing. And then an unexpected sight: her pantyhose, with her panties still inside them, draped over the seatback nearly right above me. And then her dress and half-slip there beside them. I felt another intense rush, horror and exhilaration all mixed up together. He's got my wife! He's got her naked! Now it's really going to begin! It was quiet for a few moments, except for more of the rustle of clothing. He must have been undressing. And then I felt bodies move in the dark and she gave a sigh and I could tell they were in each others' arms. Aga in, the kissing began and I knew from her reactions that he was touching and exploring every inch of her. Her breathing became heavier and I sensed that she was exploring, too. "Oh, your muscles," I heard her whisper. And then she gave the cry that I had been waiting for, the cry that shot electricity through me whenever I heard it, a long soaring moan that meant he had reached her, that the two thin layers of her undergarments that had stood between his fingers and her flesh were gone. Oh, I knew that sound, and now Pat was going to know it, too. I was in a kind of frozen agony, wanting to twist in my torment. It wasn't just Pat who was going to know . everybody would know. The cacophonous voices of all my fears and all my jealousy and possessiveness were shouting to me, saying you fool you fool, he's going to tell, and his confidant will tell and soon everyone will know about tonight and what happened and what it was like. I Watched Her Fall Part 14 They'll know that my wife was my best friend's sex toy, giving everything in the back seat while I lay "passed out" in the front. Stop it! Stop it, they shouted at me, but I couldn't stop it. I lay there frozen, in bondage to that other voice soothing me, bathing me with promises that for whatever reason I wanted to believe. Oh, even with the radio playing I could hear everything. They just couldn't be quiet as their intimacies began. First the rhythmic sobs and moans of my wife's beginning ecstasy, then the syrupy liquid sounds of his fingers dancing in and out of her, the sudden silences of their kisses, the movement of their bodies, and the whispers, yes her whispers that told me everything that was happening. Even with me so close, with the possibility of my wakening so real, she could not be silent. "You're gonna make me come all over the place!" she cried, and she began coaxing him, urging him on, saying things like "oh, yes, yes, there . right there" and "finger me, finger me good." Words she cried to me, words of our own secret pleasures, now shared with another man. What a sight it must have been, seeing my naked wife spread open for him, his fingers disappearing inside her, her body writhing in ecstasy, in total surrender, totally shameless in her capitulation to adultery. Bonnie was a very orgasmic woman, and now living out one of her favorite fantasy games, the orgasms began. As I listened to them, that perverse personality inside me pirouetted with glee, sending bolts of deliciously sickening horrific pleasure through me. I was flooded with the most dirty thoughts about her, made more rich by the fact that this time they were no fantasy. So many times after we had gone parking, pretending she had been a stranger's pickup, we would make love and she would tell me, "I love being your back seat slut," and now it was really happening. She was really being a . a slut. It wasn't just games now. My wife, it had to be my wife who was like that. Not just in fantasy, but for real. My wife who I now feared couldn't be true. My wife who really could find heaven in the arms of other men. A thrill shot through me And she was in heaven. Pat was doing whatever he wanted with her. He was talking softly to her, asking her questions, making her answer, learning her secrets, as the wet, sticky sounds of his foreplay continued. She admitted how much she loved sex, how orgasmic she was, how often she wanted it. Things I had told him, and things he could tell with her in his arms, but things he wanted to make her confess out loud. He was going to verify every one of my stories. She cried out "oh, I love it, I love it" over and over as he masturbated her, "oh, Pat, you're driving me crazy!" I became ravenous then. I wanted to see them, wanted to watch them do it, wanted to see his fingers in her cunt and his cock in her hand and I couldn't, I couldn't but I was certain as the powerful musky aroma of her passions filled the warm, sealed car that there would be a time, oh yes, there would be a time when I would see her yes I would see my hot young wife put out. I Watched Her Fall Part 15 I was so twisted then, thinking every sexist word and phrase that described her, stinging like slaps in the face, but oh such succulent pain it was, witnessing her fall. After tonight, if she wasn't already, she would be my promiscuous whore, believing it was so easy to get away with her adultery. She was making full use of her chance, enjoying it all, making use of her own dirty talk. "Your cock's so hard," I heard her say, and she also asked, "do you want a taste?" I knew what that meant, because she said that to me and then she would pull my fingers out of her and draw them up to our faces and we would lick them, kissing and sucking while the aroma of her and the taste of her was in our mouths and on our lips and on our cheeks and noses. He must have wanted a taste, because I could hear them murmuring "mmmm" mixed with the sounds of sucking mouths. "You are really something," he said in a quiet, passion-filled voice. She gave that smug, knowing laugh of hers. "You asked for it." she replied. Then her voice cooed with intimate delight. "You want some more, don't you?" Oh, yes he did want more, and as I listened he worked his way down her body with his hot kisses, stopping to suckle at her breasts, then gradually squeezing himself onto the floor to embrace her hips and feast on her. S he spread open wide for him because I saw her right foot appear above the seat and then descend to rest on the back. It was his voice that was muffled then, buried in her snatch, humming "mmmm" and seemingly driving her almost insane. She was moaning, crying, begging, sobbing with pleasure. I could hear her twisting and squirming as he worked his technique on her, and she was drowning in it. "I'm going nuts," she whispered with frantic desire. "Your tongue's on fire. I'm gonna burn up. I'm gonna come all over your face," and then she must have grabbed his shirt or something to muffle the sound, because she really did scream as his mouth brought her to another orgasm. I felt the goose bumps again, hearing her in ecstasy. The ironic pulsations of Bachman Turner Overdrive's "Taking Care of Business" blasted from the radio, barely muting her muffled screams. I knew I would always link the two when I heard that song again. The pounding, pulsing rhythm as my best friend ate my sweet wife's cunt until she came. I Watched Her Fall Part 16 They stirred then, as he pulled himself off the floor. I heard her voice, dreamy, happy, melodious as she said "I made your face all soaking wet," and I heard the kisses begin as she rubbed her own face in it, reveling in it. "I could be a lesbian," she had told me once. "I just love the way we taste and smell." But now she was just murmuring with contentment, momentarily satisfied. I heard her catch her breath, and he must have begun touching her again. "I think I know what you want," she said after a few seconds, "come here." Yes, then I heard them rustle as they got into position and just for a second I saw the top of his head as he balanced himself for his descent onto her and I heard their furtive whispering as she guided him into her and my heart was pounding yes oh yes it's happening and I heard the sharp exhale of breath as he slid deep into the snug warm slit that was my wife. Oh, she was syrup, she was honey, thick and warm and beckoning you to burst within her, and now he knew, just like I did what it was like to be inside her, what it was like to hold her and feel her thrust upward to meet his own downward plunge and feel her arms around him, her fingers clutching his back, her whispered words in his ear. And I listened to them, mad with perverse excitement, listening as the car squeaked with their motion, listening to her cries as she again took off toward orgasm, listening to her urge him, "go deep, go deep," and "fuck me, fuck me, Pat," and I was ready for it, ready for the when he would have reached the top of the mountain and not been able to hold it off any longer. I could hear him straining, trying to hold back, trying to satisfy her again, and he was doing it. I could tell she was getting lost in the joy of it again, gasping and crying "yes, oh yes, oh YESYESYESYESYES oh fuck me baby fuck me good oh fuck me . oh fuck . me . oh . oh . GOD, I love cock, love it inside me, love your cock Pat, love you in my arms, oh I can't believe the way I feel." I thought this was the moment I had been waiting for, the moment when my best friend shot his semen into my darling. I was so ready for it, I had walked through that last lurid doorway deep inside me, and I waited hand in hand with that perverse entity within me, gleefully expecting the final betrayal, the explosion of semen that would make her adultery deliciously complete. If I could have had my way then, I would have been naked, too , lying there, enjoying them, touching myself, stroking myself slowly as their passion mounted, waiting, waiting, and then when their voices soared in mutual ecstasy and I heard their climactic cries and I imagined him squirting, squirting jets and jets and jets of his come way up inside my sweet darling's box, flooding her, filling her up to ooze back out of her, and I would join them, thinking about them, listening to them panting like wild animals in heat, shameless lust all over everything and I would send my own semen flying, flying everywhere, as I writhed in my own anguished ecstasy. Oh, my wife, my wife a cheating, semen filled cunt. I Watched Her Fall Part 17 But it didn't happen the way I expected. Instead of her squeezing him and working him to orgasm, she suddenly let out an "oh, God" that wasn't of pleasure but of a sudden realization. "Did you come in me?" I heard her ask him, almost frantic. "Not yet, but I'm pretty close to losing it." "You can't. Please don't!" His tone of voice was incredulous. "For God's sake, why not." "He'll know. Michael will know," she tried to explain. "When we get home he'll be expecting us to make love. He'll be able to tell." I hadn't thought about that, but she was right. We always had sex whenever we got home from an evening out, no matter whether it was in the back seat or in our own bed or on the floor. No matter how tired we were, no matter how drunk, no matter if we had spent the entire trip home fighting about something. To Bonnie, and I guess to me too, sex was one of the perks of marriage that was always in order, no matter what. "Jesus, I'm gonna go crazy," Pat lamented, and I thought he might press ahead anyhow because he could have, but he didn't. I guess he remembered what I had told him, and he knew Bonnie wasn't lying. I heard the rustle as he got off her and sat down beside her with a sigh. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm really sorry." "You really wanted me to, didn't you?" "Yes," she confessed. "I really did." "Another time." "Yes. Another time." They were kissing. My heart leapt. Her words had the sincerity of a promise. A secret promise in the dark. Then movement. "I thought you were going to be a gentleman about it," she said. I Watched Her Fall Part 18 "I was. But I have my limits. I don't want to be left like this." "I don't do that." There was firmness in her tone, and I was rapt with curiosity about what was going on. Then I heard her sigh, reluctantly but submissively. "I know you're gonna make me do it anyway." "Just like this," he said, and I heard her sucking on his fingers again. "You said you loved it. You know you'll love it. It's all over me." I heard the sound of shifting positions and Pat cooing "oh, yeah, sugar, that's my girl.," and I heard her own voice seem to disappear, and I knew then for sure what was happening. Oh, God, I felt like I was going to be sick with agony, because she was going to do something she didn't do for me. There was a time when we had fought about it, but I had just finally given up. She was by her own admission such a selfish lover that she wanted the maximum amount of pleasure for herself. Her giving head just didn't measure up to those standards. She wanted the sensation of all that semen squirting in her cunt, not into her mouth. There was no question that's what she wanted now, too, but she couldn't allow herself to have it. Pat was about to benefit from the curious details of the situation, and I could only accept it. There was nothing I could do. I had let it come to this. I couldn't stop it now. He kept purring to her, encouraging her and I heard her own breathing get heavy again. "God, you're driving me crazy," she said, and I could hear again the sticky wet sound his fingers were making between her legs. I was tingling as I heard it begin to happen. Her deep breaths. "Oh," she cried, then the muffled moans began as her mouth took him in. He was revving up, and I thought I detected a tone of elation in his voice. "Oh, YEAH," he cried. "Oh, yeah, sugar. You're going to do it all, aren't you?" And she gave her muffled answer that cut through me like a knife, "mmm hmm." With a sudden affirmation that shook me. I could imagine him now, his finger playing with her cunt while with his other hand he brushed the hair back from her face, letting himself watch her do it. Oh, a twisted, tormented shiver enveloped me as I heard her muffled cries of obvious pleasure. My wife was sucking cock and she was going crazy loving it. He kept talking to her, gently but forcefully. "You're not gonna be a cock teaser this time, are you?" he asked her. "Ummm ummm," she answered him, again forceful, again deep, again certain. No, she wasn't going to be a cock teaser this time! Oh, I could hear the wet sucking sounds her mouth was making. There was no reluctance in her any more, and her sounds told me that she wasn't just letting him come, she was going to make him! I Watched Her Fall Part 19 Pat must have sensed it, too, because he began letting loose his own pent up desires, too. Bonnie flowed right with it. She seemed to love it when the dirty words began, so Pat kept it up, telling her when it felt good, when she had her mouth just right around him. "Oh, yeah, that's it," he gasped. "Do it just like that." And she did, because he began breathing harder and harder and his words tumbled out "suck me, cunt. Suck me you tasty bitch," and she responded like every dirty word was a stroke of ecstasy, like every sexist name he called her caused a lash of searing pleasure. "Mmm hmm," she said over and over, "mmm hmm," agreeing with everything he said, sucking and licking while he called her names. Oh, the wet sucking sounds, and he talking, whispering, saying "God, you're good, you're really good. You were born to suck cocks, girl." And she just kept it up and I was so hard and inside that new door I had walked through that evil entity was pirouetting and writhing with glee, crying over and over, "she's gonna do it, she's gonna do it," and I wanted to be naked again, wanted to jack off, wanted to go crazy with them when he did it in her mouth, but I couldn't and I just listened and I heard his voice rise to a whimper and his breath catch and her voice still beckoning to him "mmm hmm" and then in a frenzy he let go. Oh, again the sting that seemed to make me go numb and my ears ring as I heard him gasp and gasp and gasp and gasp and I heard her muffled screams and I let myself go with it, let myself feel the masochistic joy of knowing my wife was about to commit the final betrayal. And she never backed away, never pulled away and her muffled cries continued until his own spasmodic gasps had quieted down and I knew she had done it. My wife, a cocksucker! Just to be able to say the words gave me a thrill. Not a fantasy. No longer a fear. It was real now. She had done it. He let everything fly and she took it all. I imagined it, spurting into her mouth, against her tongue and the insides of her cheeks, her experiencing the taste of it, warm and salty and her throat bobbing as she swallowed, swallowed, swallowed my best friend's semen and he was watching, watching her do it, her hair pushed back so he could see himself disappearing into her mouth, feeling her do it and in his orgasm thinking she's my best friend's wife but she's putting out for me, she spread her legs for me, she's swallowing cum for me. Oh, he must be so happy! No sorrow or guilt or shame for him, and who knows what the future would be like now? There was stirring in the back seat. "Oh, man did you ever blow my mind," he gasped. "I loved it, too," she purred, sending a sting of pain shooting through me. She wouldn't do that for me! I Watched Her Fall Part 20 "MB is so lucky, to have a woman like you," Pat said. He didn't know. "I need a napkin or something," was the next thing she said, and Pat said he remembered some being in the front seat. There were, brought along from the social, and they were beneath my legs. I watched as she peered over the seat at me, then certain I was still out of it, she leaned over and carefully reached beneath my legs to pick the napkins up. Oh, yes she was naked, skin glistening with perspiration in the dim light. She took them, looking down at me, and wiped her mouth, her chin, her cheeks, and I twisted inside thinking oh, that would have been so thrilling to see: his cum spurting out the corners of her mouth and oozing down over her cheek and chin, and her lips shiny wet with him, making liquid strings of him when her lips parted, and the gray-white globs of him on her tongue and then disappearing down her throat. And even though I had wanted to so badly, I was thankful I had rejected the temptation to jack off while the two of them mated because she would have been picking up newly wet, sticky napkins and they would have known everything. I trembled to think of what might have happened then. What would she have said? Before we got home, she would have said something. She disappeared back into the back seat, and for the next few minutes they quietly talked, and I heard them passing around what remained of the bottle of wine. They discussed me and how they had better not tempt fate too long. They must have been snuggled up with each other, because I heard her say how comfortable it was in his arms. "I hope this won't be the only time you're here like this," he told her, but I don't think she replied . Their intimate conversation discussed their lovemaking, and me. He told her that knowing I was so close made it all the more exciting to him, like sneaking a piece of forbidden candy. "Ooh, you did do that," she sighed, and then admitted that she had the same perverse sensation. He apologized for the names he had called her during their wild frenzy, but she admitted they had turned her on. "I don't know why, but I just let myself go," she said, then confessed that "since I acted like a slut it was a rush to hear you calling me one." "You're just amazing," he told her. "You really, really love it. You really do. No pretending. No faking." He told her he "had suspicions" about her sex drive, and under her gentle prodding he at first said that he thought a woman as sexy looking as her was trying to be attractive to men for a reason, but then he admitted that I had provided him with "some hints about what you were like." "I wasn't sure I could believe him," Pat admitted. She gave a purry little laugh. "Well, now you know," she sighed. "I guess he shouldn't have told you about me." I Watched Her Fall Part 21 "You know what I think?" he continued. "I think this isn't the first time you've been in a backseat with a man. And I don't mean MB, either." She gave a sarcastic little laugh. "You keep coming back to that, don't you? Is that why you came on so strong? Because you thought other men were getting me, too? You guys!" "I hear some of the things you say to MB," Pat countered. "I heard what you said tonight." "You mean about going up to that guy's room?" "Yeah. And other things, at other times. I saw you talking to that guy again before we came out to the car. I'll bet he asked you out, didn't he?" Again she evaded the question. "Well, Michael and I have our problems," she said, "which I guess you know for sure after what we've done. If everything were perfect, I don't think I would have given in." "And things haven't ever been perfect, have they?" "Well, it's ." she began to say, then she laughed. "God, you're persistent! You're not gonna give up until I tell you everything I've ever done." He laughed, too. "You know how persistent I can be." "Mmmm, yes, oh yes, oh yes. But I think you might be a little bit jealous." "Oh, no," he retorted. "I admit I'm crazy enough to let my dick do my thinking, and I'm crazy enough to take chances like this, but I'm not crazy enough to become jealous over another man's wife!" "Oh, God," she answered with sadness in her voice. "Poor Michael." "Poor Michael? He's lucky to have a woman like you, even if you do cheat once in a while. I'll bet he has a real good time with you." Leave it to Pat to be like that. I doubted if he'd be too upset if he found out Gail was unfaithful. He was amazing. I Watched Her Fall Part 22 I had listened to their intimate conversation with impatient excitement. I thought that Pat's incessant curiosity would have caused her to break down and admit other adulteries, and then I would finally know and at least the torment of uncertainty would be over. But she had fended him off, and then they agreed it was time to get dressed. "I'll be calling you," Pat said as they dressed. "I thought you would." She responded. "But no promises. I have a lot to think about. It's really kind of scary to think about what we did, cheating on Michael right under his nose. I got off on it, too. And what I did to please you. To think I could start being like that ." Oh, it was so tantalizing. Start being like what? Like a woman who is going to start having affairs? That would mean she had been faithful until now. Or did she mean starting to have adulteries right underneath my no se, as opposed to the ones she had discreetly, at a distance, being careful not to be caught? And did she mean her going down on him, too, and discovering it was a new turn on? Oh, so much to think about and wonder about and torment myself over and fantasize about. Later tonight she was going to be in my arms in our bed and I would pour all the passion and insecurity and perverse lust into our lovemaking. Screwing my cocksucking wife, who wouldn't suck me. They finished dressing and began trying to wake me up. I made them work at it, shaking me and calling to me to get up and convincing them that I had really been out of it. The two of them got in the front seat beside me after satisfying themselves that I could now drive, and we drove Pat home. During the ride, Bonnie leaned against me but I could see that she also remained in contact with Pat, their hips and thighs touching in what would at any other time seemed like normal contact. But now I knew it was more than that. When we got to Pat's house, he shook hands with me and said thanks, then he and Bonnie shared a goodnight kiss. Even though it was short, it was more than friendly. Friendly, sociable kissing was something we took for granted. In our circle of friends it was kind of expected, a normal greeting or farewell. Everybody kissed everybody else's wives and husbands and girl and boy friends. That's why I knew the difference between those and what I now witnessed. It irritated me a little, thinking Bonnie was now going to begin the process of being provocative with me again. When Pat had gone, I mentioned it. "That was some kiss," I said. My pique was convincing. I Watched Her Fall Part 23 "Oh, for God's sake, Michael," she snapped, ever the innocent. "We had to sit around for an hour while you were passed out. Luckily, he's a nice guy. He was nice to me. Give it a break." I knew what "nice to me" meant, even though she would deny it. On another occasion, the fight might have been on, but not that night. She relented and wrapped her arms around me, pulling herself close to me. "Please, honey, let's not get started," she sighed. "It's late and I'm tired and I just want to get home to bed." I relented, too. "I need a drink," I said. Remarkably, Pat had left the remains of the bottle of wine in the car when he went in the house, so Bonnie found it for me and I finished it on the way home. The 12 mile drive had a different feel than any I had taken with her before. It was still my wife I was with, but it also had a taste of excitement because it was almost like this woman was some sexy stranger I had met at a bar or party and now she was going home with me. When we arrived at home, the sitter was amused at Bonne's efforts to tell her about my passing out in the car, especially since it was obvious she was still very drunk and couldn't talk correctly. When the sitter left, we got ready for bed, and it was another new experience for me to have this woman who I now knew to be unfaithful climbing into bed with me. I wondered what she was thinking. Did she feel any sorrow or guilt or remorse for her betrayal, or was her own flesh tingling with excitement at the prospect of having committed adultery with her husband's best friend right under his nose and seemingly gotten away with it? S he turned out the light and I felt that body which she had just shared with my friend snuggle against me. I felt the excitement rise inside me as we began sharing passionate kisses of our own and she reached down to stroke and tug at my erection. Oh, nothing was too lurid for me, kissing the mouth that just less than an hour ago was flooded with a river of another man's semen, fingering the syrupy wet snatch that had also been his toy. She had transformed herself. Suddenly only part wife, having become part stranger, making even the familiar seem provocatively new. She began responding to my own probing fingers and her breathing became deep moans in my ear. I could almost hear myself out loud, thinking the fucking little cunt, the sneaky fucking unfaithful little cunt. My fingers were like pistons, moving in and out of her as fast as I could make them go, driven by the combination of anger and lust that possessed me. Like always, she responded to the waves of pleasure that swept over her, drowning her. She began pushing on my head, guiding me to her breasts, which she loved me to suck. She moved her body into position for what she was expecting next, but I hesitated. She wanted me to go down on her, expected me to feast on the cunt that had just fucked my best friend. Was she doing it because that's the way we always made love, and a change might arouse my suspicions? Or was it because of her own perversity, getting a rush of secret excitement from her husband eating her just after she had made secret love to another man? Or was it because she loved sex with me and was getting caught up in it again, as always? I Watched Her Fall Part 24 Too much to think about, because she was pushing on me and I got caught up in the power of it, the urgency in her hands, pushing me down to kiss her chest and abdomen and the electric tingling curve of her pelvis, and there was the aroma of her, enveloping me, drawing me there and the thought of her giving in to him oh spreading her legs for him, his fingers in there his cock in there and she loved it loved it loved it all and I was fully inside that room, shaking shouting gleefully oh yes my wife and she really is a slut she really is and I buried my face in her, all musky and sweaty and syrupy wet, tongue darting and lips sucking on soft pink parts and her hips rolled up to meet me, fingers digging into my scalp her cries her cries oh my sweet darling unfaithful cocksucking wife! My arms were around her waist, hands on the insides of her thighs as I feasted on her. Suddenly I felt the unexpected sensation of her arms going around me and I felt her upper body pull itself towards me. "There's something I want to do," I heard her say in a throaty whisper, and before I could even begin to wonder, I felt the warm liquid touch of her mouth, touching, kissing, then enveloping me. Oh, she was going to do it to me, too ! Suddenly I was afraid I understood. She was down on me after she had been down on Pat. She's comparing how different guys taste, I thought. She's experimenting. She wants to learn about sucking cocks! My shivers began again as I loved her mouth, thinking about it as my hips worked in and out and I raised my head to watch her suck, brushing back her hair to see, and then taking the fingers I had inside her and rubbing on my cock and her upper lip beneath her nose as she sucked and she reveled in the aroma of it, the room filling with her muffled cries and I thought oh yes do it do it, cunt, do it just like you did to Pat, you fucking cocksucking little cheat, but I didn't say it out loud like he did, I just thought it, suck me suck me you slut. Oh, she did, and he had taught her well. Her mouth was like her box, a warm, syrupy pouch, snug against me all around, and I pushed myself way inside to the back of her mouth and out and in again, and I cried, "oh, Bonnie, yes!" and we both went for it and in my anger and excitement I whispered to her over and over "oh, yes, oh, yes," but I was thinking my darling's going to be a cocksucker, and I knew this was part of the process, that I was her tool, she was practicing with her mouth and I was helping to make her love it, fingering her and eating her and giving her orgasms while she had a cock in her mouth, my whimpering and almost begging for that sweet release inside her mouth, listening to her own murmurs of anticipation and desire, reinforcing everything Pat had done, repeating the message that guys would just about die for a cum swallowing woman. I Watched Her Fall Part 25 But I didn't care, I didn't care. I could only think about finally at last letting go inside that sweet soft mouth, and when I was ready I did it, just let go and oh oh oh oh oh the spasms came and I felt my semen jetting jetting into her mouth and my fingers were going wild inside her and I watched her sucking me, unflinching and not one drop of me oozing from her mouth as I felt her fingers dig into my thighs and heard her murmurs, now familiar, "mmm hmm, mmm hmm," over and over, matching the intensity of my own excitement until my spasms slowly stopped and we lay there in our upside down embrace, both of us gasping for breath. Oh, she had swallowed every drop of me! "Oh, honey, that was wonderful," I gushed, knowing that I sounded just like Pat had, and knowing that by reinforcing his feelings I had probably told her everything she needed to know about how guys melted for a woman who sucked cocks. She drew me up to her then and began kissing my cunt-smeared face. "You really loved it, didn't you?" she murmured to me. "Oh, God, yes!" "I decided to make you happy. But you know what? You made me go crazy, too." She looked at me, hugged me, whispered in my ear, "You tasted good. And we came together." "I'm so glad," I answered, holding her tight. "I wanted you to enjoy it, too. I wanted you to love it." I shuddered at the thought of her orgasm and what it would mean for the future. "I did love it," she sighed, then confessed that she "didn't think it could be that exciting" for her. "I thought the guy got all the pleasure, and the woman got none. That's why I never wanted to do it. But tonight I learned different. Oh, honey, when you started coming, so did I. And you kept me coming and coming until you were dry." I couldn't help holding her and caressing her while she wound down and finally drifted off to sleep. But I also couldn't help thinking about what had happened and what I had done to let it happen. She was tempted to express her anger and frustration with me through extramarital sex, and I had let her. She was tempted to satisfy a man orally, then I let her reinforce the urge by letting her do it again and bringing her to ecstasy at the moment it happened. The night had been a line of demarcation, with the past still uncertain and the future even more so, but that night totally sharp and clear. By giving in to a man right in front of me, by getting off on the opportunity and the danger, by overcoming her inhibitions about oral sex, she had walked off the edge of the boundaries of her world. I Watched Her Fall Part 26 I lay awake in the dark, listening to her breathe in sleep, thinking about it. She had walked off the edge and she had fallen. And I, in twisted gleeful torment had watched it all, rolling in it, reveling in it. I just knew there was going to be more now. There were going to be other nights and other men, and I shivered at the ways I would find to let her. Oh, it was going to be so excruciatingly painfully exciting, secretly watching her. Oh, she had fallen, she had fallen. And I watched her fall. THE END -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>| | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+