Jealousy

by Laran Mithras

  Slut! I loved it. But then the image of the picture Dustin had given me flashed into my thoughts. Sexy Tessa, younger, with a dick lying across her mouth. Jealousy raged up within me. Had she been dressing sexy then? No, she had admitted that she had always worn panties and full clothing. It was one of the reasons I wanted to expose her more – change her from demure to vampy. Something more… appealing to me. Mold her in my image of the perfect wife.

  My perfect wife, anyway.

  She was mine, now, though, and didn't flirt with guys other than smiles and winks. She didn't text guys – I had checked! She didn't email them, either. She had no secret cheat.

  Whatever had led to that picture wasn't happening now. She hadn't dressed my way back then. She was mine now and knew it. She tried to deflect guys who hit on her too hard.

  I moved again with more confidence – the jealousy muted and receding. On the other hand, my cock began recovering from the beginnings of deflation.

  No, this was all different. She could be my slut as I wanted. Mine. "I'm going to buy you some more clothes."

  She murmured something in assent and appreciation.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe I did like guys seeing down her tops – except that I had bought only tight ones that showed off her perky breasts and nipples. Maybe I should buy her some loose tops? What would happen if someone looked and caught a peek?

  My cock surged, swelling.

  Yes, maybe she was right. Maybe I did get excited someone might see what was mine. I liked her dressing slutty; if other guys saw it, it couldn't be helped, right?

  Then failure returned, waving happily and knowingly. I looked up at her face and knew a dick had rested on her lips. It disgusted me. Had the guy fucked her afterwards? I drove up into her as the jealousy overwhelmed me. I hammered my manhood up her pussy as if I was going to pummel away the memory of the guy's dick if it had been in there. I grunted feverishly, harshly, gritting my teeth as I unleashed a torrent of hot cum up into her depths.

  The jealousy was so bad that the sex was good.

  But this wasn't what I wanted. I didn't want the failure of jealousy.

  Spent and disappointed, I endured my dick once again deflating in defeat.

  CHAPTER 10

  I grabbed Tessa's ass through her yoga shorts and gave her a kiss.

  Another day, another run around the park. Day eight since my coming to terms with my anger – even if I was still grappling with my jealousy.

  Was I good enough for her? Or not?

  I reached between us and lifted my finger up along her camel toe, pressing the material into her cleft.

  She gasped with indignation. "Stop that; I need to run, not get all hot."

  I didn't argue with her. It was another day of testing myself. "Just go run; I'm sure Garth is waiting." And I was able to deliver that without much sarcasm. Much.

  She rolled her eyes. "He's nice when he isn't being a creep. He just comes on way too strong sometimes."

  I slapped her ass and sent her out the door.

  Then I went to the window to watch. I expected the clothing I had bought online to arrive today, but too late for today's run. Other than the tops and dresses and skirts I had bought, I also had included even smaller and tighter yoga shorts. To my amazement, there were some skimpier than what she was wearing now. I hadn't – couldn't have – imagined there would be, but there were.

  She didn't know, but she always accepted what I bought her.

  I watched Garth join her a few minutes later. Not hard yet, he just ran alongside her. At this distance, the swing of his cock underneath the material was just a tiny alternating flash of light and shadow on his blue running shorts.

  I didn't care about that.

  I wanted to catch him looking, and then getting hard. This would make eight consecutive days of consistent erections on my part watching the effect of her sexiness on him.

  She had been right.

  That explicitly easy fact had removed anger from my daily experience as surely as a surgeon cutting away a tumor. The jealousy was still there, though – just different in a manner I could not grasp.

  By the time they passed across the street, he was tented, but not fully. Unfortunately, he wasn't looking at her while they talked – not so near the house, anyway. Maybe he was still scared of my threats.

  I felt the stirring, seeing him excited over her tautly jiggling butt. How would he react when she wore the sexier shorts? I chuckled evilly. He would probably whip out his dick and start jacking off right there. I pushed my hips against the counter, pressing my bulge against the edge and giving my stiffness a tease.

  My phone chimed.

  My cock wilted.

  Fucking Dustin! I snatched up my phone, feeling a hint of anger returning - except it wasn't Dustin and his aggravating picture. It was a text from Bend.

  Bernard: Interested in a party Saturday?

  Bernard: You don't have to say yes

  My eyebrows lifted in surprise. My friend didn't often throw parties.

  Clark: Something special?

  Bernard: New job

  Bernard: Want to come?

  I smiled at the thought of seeing him again. Bend was my best friend.

  Clark: Sure

  Clark: Is Tessa invited?

  Bernard: Dude of course

  I laughed.

  Clark: Sure thing what time?

  Bernard: 3pm

  Clark: We'll be there

  I could see Garth's erection tenting out like usual, now. Whenever he passed near some woman and her kid, he ran so as to use Tessa to block their sight of him. It was hopelessly lame.

  I took a deep breath and let it out, relishing the lack of jaw-grinding anger. Our sex life had improved. I had been able to perform again a few days prior.

  Easily.

  Two in a row wasn't a pattern, but it was a strong coincidence. A third raging and lusty performance would make a pattern. I battled fear and uncertainty that I could be so lucky three times in a row. It would be a big test, but I wanted to wait for the clothing order to get here before risking my luck. I wanted everything perfect.

  For all of my petty jealousy, Garth did not make any overt moves to send me into a rage. Tessa came back in, blowing air and panting with the endorphins of exertion.

  I hugged her sweaty body, pulling her waist to me and pressing my bulge into her. I wanted to show her I wasn't angry.

  Eight days in a row. Now that, at least, was a sure pattern. Success in bed later tonight or tomorrow would clinch it. "Did he check you out?"

  There was less of her usual wariness, but still some. "Not much, no. Just blabbed about how cool he is…"

  "He was hard, though."

  She looked away. "Yeah, it's embarrassing. Kind of hard to miss it."

  "You should be flattered?"

  She lifted her upper lip, making a disgusted sneer. "Are you kidding? It's gross."

  The very idea didn't mesh with the picture I got every day from Dustin. "Dicks are gross?"

  "No, I mean, he can't even control himself. Out in public? Come on."

  I teased her. "It would be different in private?"

  She looked shocked. "Well, yeah!"

  "You mean, you might actually look at it then?"

  The wariness was instant. "Clark…"

  "I'm just kidding with you."

  She squinted one eye at me as if I were a potentially deadly bug. "Are you really getting better? Or just getting better at hiding it?"

  I followed her into the bedroom and watched her strip. "Talking to my old man was instructive in ways I hadn't expected."

  "But he dumped you and your mother." She turned on the shower.

  "It wasn't a good marriage."

  She gave me a wondering look mixed with wariness and warning. "Am I going to be a good marriage?"

  I smiled broadly. "I think we're from the same side of the tracks."

  "Huh?" She had gotten in and her voice echoed hollowly in the tiled enclosu
re.

  I ignored it, not wanting to shout to be heard. When she finished and came out a few minutes later, I was sitting on the bed and said, "Bend invited us to a party this Saturday."

  "Short? Frizzy hair? The guy you chatted with at the reception?"

  "Yeah, him."

  "He…" Her face clouded over.

  Instantly curious, I cocked my head at her. "What?"

  She shrugged. "I don't mean to offend, but he seemed… a little slow."

  My grin was back. "He comes off that way. He hesitates a lot and doesn't know what to say. He's a bit of a social coward, but he's all there."

  Her voice took on a dramatic, ominous tone. "Does he know you think of him this way?"

  I laughed and leaned my elbows back on the bed. "He sure does. I almost fired him from the carwash…"

  "And he's still your friend?"

  "Yeah. I recognized his effort and gave him a chance. A little extra push and he became a great worker."

  "Then why did he quit the carwash?"

  "He didn't like getting wax and polishes on his hands. Bad for the skin."

  "You don't have a problem—"

  "I supervise. Those days are behind me, though I still feel gross after work. Just the fumes of the stuff are enough to drive me to wash."

  "Oh. So a party, huh?"

  "He got a new job."

  "Doing what?"

  "I don't know; he didn't say."

  "What should I wear? Is it, like, formal or anything?"

  "I'll pick out your clothes. Probably from the new stuff coming."

  Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "You really love dressing me, don't you?"

  I lifted both eyebrows high and hummed, "Mmm hmm."

  "Have you decided on my Halloween costume yet?"

  My pleasure evaporated and I shifted on the bed as if with an uncomfortable itch. "I don't know… I have that cosplay catsuit in my cart, but…"

  "But what?" She bounced down onto the bed next to me dressed in a tiny slip of material with spaghetti straps.

  "I like the pirate outfit, but fishnets? Eh…"

  "Shows too much? I thought that would be slutty enough for you."

  I heaved a deep breath, perturbed that I couldn't make up my mind. On the one hand, I had ordered her yoga shorts that exposed even more of her so she could cause erections in Garth and thus me, but on the other hand, I still wanted to guard her from prying eyes at Halloween. Was the holiday party more dangerous than some public jogging? That must be it. I said, "The catsuit will look awesome on you." I didn't say it because I thought it was true, because I did think she would look far sexier in the pirate suit with fishnets. The catsuit would cover every inch of her. I just wanted her to think I thought the catsuit was better – not that I was driven more by jealousy.

  The Halloween party later in the month was going to be a huge test of my patience and newfound tolerance.

  Hopefully.

  CHAPTER 11

  She bent her head way over, looking down, and tugging every which way at her new yoga shorts. "Are these the right size?" She twisted and looked at her backside in the mirror. "My butt is hanging out."

  I was already stiffened. "Yeah." I squeezed on my bulge.

  "Are you really wanting me to run in these?" She pulled on the elastic, lifting up to expose almost all of her ass and then resettling it.

  "Sure, they're yoga shorts. Free movement and all of that."

  She gave me a suspicious look. "I didn't think it was possible to buy sexy running shorts."

  "Oh, come on."

  "Seriously. Like these come only halfway up."

  "Low-rise."

  "And let my butt hang out."

  "It'll be a great run."

  "I guess?"

  "So, try them." My heart was thudding heavily from excitement and the effort of trying to sound indifferent despite it all.

  She lifted the wrist-sized flap of material. "And you really want me wearing this? It's so thin."

  The tube top was icing on Garth's cake. It was sort of see-through. "Put it on."

  She did the chick thing and stepped into it, lifting it over her hips and up until it covered her perky round boobs. She twisted back and forth in the mirror and gave me a look. "You sure?"

  "Mm hmm. Go run."

  She made a few adjustments and studied the mirror. "This is see-through, isn't it?"

  I lied with some exaggeration, "Nah…"

  Her glance at me was tinged by her secretive smile. "Okay, then…"

  I was almost panting as I followed her out to the kitchen. She picked out her phone pocket from the new porcelain bowl I had ordered to hold our keys and things. She suited up for running and picked up her water bottle. "How do I look?"

  "Messy, frumpy, and disgusting."

  She dropped her mouth open and made a scornful coughing sound of miff and vex. "Wow, um, okay."

  I rolled my eyes. "Just go run."

  She adjusted the band of her ponytail and left the house.

  I hovered at the kitchen window and watched her butt wobble tautly as she jogged across the street to the park-side. She looked back, blushing, and shot me a suppressed smile of daring and bravery. I was amazed at how skimpy the shorts looked from a distance. The farther away she ran, the less it looked like she was wearing. On the far side of the park where Garth joined her, it looked to me as if she was wearing nothing.

  I was instantly glad I had chosen the light peach color. My dick sure liked it.

  The guy ran with her much like normal, except that on the approach to our street - not even a quarter lap in! – he stumbled and dropped as if having trouble with his laces. Tessa ran backwards for about two seconds, but he waved her on. She turned and kept going. His face was not on his laces, though, it was turned and watching her backside – obviously admiring her tight ass exposed to the air.

  He got up, mouth dropped open wide, and chased after her.

  Jealousy did not prick me… yet. No, instead, I was smiling with arrogance. That's right, asshole, she's a sexy woman and she's mine. You can look, but can't touch. Drink it in, jerk.

  When they passed the front of the house, he tried to stay on the other side of her so she blocked my view of him. Did he know I watched from the window? Could he see? But I could see his effort was shoddy, at best. His tented erection had occurred faster this time as I could see it bobbing up and down within the material.

  I wasn't angry.

  I felt contemptuous conceit.

  I had turned my anger – for the ninth day in a row now – into something more productive. I channeled it into my lust for my wife and the results were hard and throbbing.

  This is a hell of a lot better than throwing shit at the wall…

  I reached down and gripped my jeans, squeezing as I watched them.

  Garth ran almost like an invalid. He stumbled and missed steps. His head was turned, looking at her, but not at her face; he was looking down at her hip - at her yoga shorts and how little they covered. He also looked a little higher, carefully following the bounce of her compressed boobs under the semi-transparent material.

  I knew he could discern her nipples – not just by impression, but visible beneath the material. His tent bobbed and bounced, vulgar and rude. He was hard for my wife, and I was hard because of it. Despite the tinge of jealousy that hovered over my brow, I was appreciative of his excitement because it was a definite cure for my ED.

  For a man, this was something no woman could understand. In sex, a woman could just lay there. She didn't need a physical part of her to morph to allow sex. For a man, everything was dependent on getting stiff. Failure meant no sex, just foreplay. It was a dramatic tragedy for a man to be unable to rise to the occasion – as if he became not-a-man.

  Useless.

  Shameful.

  No, I definitely had to thank Garth for resolving that issue within me – in my mind, anyway. Fuck him.

  I would rather see a million erections around my wife than eve
r suffer from ED again. Tonight was going to be the big test to see if coincidence turned to pattern. My third try at sex with full erection.

  It was really that big of a deal.

  The loss of stiffness that plagued a man was a horrifying ordeal. What had worked so well at the worst of times before when I was younger now didn't work at all? Despite the will? Limpness was a humiliation and repudiation of my manhood that I never wanted to suffer again. Gladly would I accept other men getting erections around my wife if it meant that kind of reprieve for me from Erectile Dysfunction.

  I whispered, encouraging both of us, "Check her out, Garth. Look at her exposed cheeks. Look at her silky skin. Look how little the low-rise barely hides her pussy. Look at her transparent tube top and her beautiful tits underneath. Go on, look."

  They passed in front of the house again and Garth didn't even bother trying to hide behind her. He was too busy checking her out. Tessa kept moving away from him, but he kept veering back close to her again. He must have been being too forward, as she put it.

  What was he saying? If anything, that was what caused the spikes of jealousy in me – no longer the looks. Was anything he tried on her magic enough to make her consider it?

  Did I trust her to be strong enough, or did I trust myself to be good enough so that she wouldn't cheat? Wasn't that the crux of my jealousy, as my father had implied? Self-doubt gave way to jealousy. Anger resulted at the feeling of impotence.

  I had learned from him my ability to turn that anger into something positive so that its poison weakened in light of the success of my erections.

  My erections were more important: they were an initial first step to total recovery. Could I also find victory over my jealousy? That was something deeper and more insidious. Instead of being physical and superficial, like rage, even if anger stemmed from something deeper, jealousy itself was seated deep in the core of a man's psyche and wasn't as easy a fix.

  Could I also overcome my jealousy? Channel and focus it into something productive? What could that possibly be? How could anyone find something positive in jealousy?