Effy loosens up after the martini – the only way to be sure this has happened is because her cheeks turn a little pinker. Her voice gets slightly higher.
I make her another drink without asking her. I’m not talking to any of them, and she hardly notices.
Rick leaves, and it’s just the three of us, and if Effy is trying to hide that her relationship with Dave is less intimate than it is, she’s doing a bad job of it. And so is he. At one point she reaches out and places her hand on his arm. “I’m so glad you talked me into coming,” she says.
To Dave.
Dave looks over at me, and it’s the look of a guilty man. He looks back at Effy, staring her down, trying to get her to be quiet, but she’s already taking a sip of a third martini and pulled her hand away discreetly.
Too late, Eff, I think. I’ve got you now.
I enjoy the evening, listening to Effy and Dave, lost in my own burning world of jealousy and rage, thinking about all the little details I can grasp at to try and figure out how I missed this. In the end it seems obvious: of course it would be easy to “work late” and fuck Dave. He is a supervisor, he’s a pretty good-looking guy. They work together all the time, it was bound to happen. She always talks to him at parties. Didn’t she disappear for a long time at the last party?
I frown, trying to remember.
I decide I’m going to head off to bed early, and then try to catch Effy in the act. Then I decide I’m too drunk, and it’s a bad plan because I don’t know where Dave’s room is. Then I decide I’ll let her just fuck him and come back to the room, and then I’ll catch her by sticking my fingers into her pussy and making her tell me that the cum I’m smearing on her lips isn’t Dave’s…
But Effy surprises me by looking over at me, and letting her eyes fall slowly down. She yawns. “I’m tired,” she says. “I’m going to bed.”
And she stands up and leaves.
I’m so shocked I don’t react at first. And then Dave, the sneaky bastard, turns to me and says: “Let’s get into the good stuff,” and before I know it I’m having drinks with Dave, and Rick again, for the next few hours.
When I get to the room, I’m wasted.
I flop onto the bed and look at Effy, who is sleeping soundly. She feels no guilt, she has some kind of plan that she doesn’t worry about. I start to wonder if maybe I have the complete wrong idea…
And then I’m asleep.
~~~
I wake up as slowly as I fell asleep, drifting into the darkness of the room while looking at the sheets and pillow in front of me.
I don’t know where I am, and then it hits me in the face like a slap:
My wife is gone.
I sit up and turn on the light. I squint in discomfort and assess the room.
It's true: Effy has left. I look at the clock. It's 2:30 am.
“Eff?” I say, walking to the bathroom. But the door is open and the inside of the cool tiled room yawns black and empty.
I already know she's not there.
I spin around, thinking.
She wouldn’t be this obvious, would she?
And then I find it:
Headache. Went to gym. Be back soon.
What a little slut.
Now I know it’s Dave, and I can feel it pulsing in my blood. The rage, the venom, the jealousy, the excitement. I’m going to catch her in the act.
This is some plan those two concocted. Trying to throw me off my game.
I’m infuriated because it worked. The last thing I thought before I went to sleep is that maybe I had everything all wrong.
I'm pretty wasted still, but I manage to whirl around and put some clothes on. As I put my hand on the door, I realize I'm wearing dress pants. I get out of them in exchange for something more gym-like, and exit my room, closing the door quietly behind me.
I can hear, behind closed doors, that Effy, me, and whoever Effy's gone to meet, are not the only ones awake. Laughter clatters behind a few doors as I pass. A group, including Mike and Steve from my office, are drinking in the living room with the TV on, muted. I wave. No one seems to care where I'm headed.
I find my way to the lower floors, where there is a gym.
But it's dark and empty.
Of course it is.
I realize I don’t even know why I went down here. I knew all along she wasn’t there; it was just a futile, last-ditch effort to cover her ass.
I’ve been taken for a real ride.
I stand in the empty gym for a moment and listen, hoping to hear some squeak or telltale sound, my wife with another man. A clatter as they try to hide in the closets or the lockers. I prowl the room, looking into the shadows, hoping that if they are there, I'll give them a scare.
After a bit I realize that I’m holding my own breath, and that no one is there.
I go cold from head to toe.
So she’s in his room. Dave’s room, and I have no idea where that is.
I storm down the hallway, and maybe I’m actually entertaining the idea of going down the hallway upstairs, pounding on the doors of rooms, yelling her name. I envision myself doing it until I can feel the hard wood under my fists as I pound on the doors, feel a bruise forming on the meat of my palm, feel my career ending. I’m really going to do it. This is too far, too much, you little slut.
Red is boiling in the back of my eyes -
- when I see the puffy, swollen cloud of steam hovering over the damp grass in the large yard. The yard rolls away from the glass windows of the lower floor, green and expansive and dotted by enormous, full trees. And at the bottom of the hill, just before the stone wall that keeps out the wild grassland beyond, is a large cedar hut, and in it, I remember now from previous years, is a hot tub and part of a square infinity pool that looks out over the prairie landscape.
I stop.
The ideas I had just moments before, of storming down the hallway and destroying my career and my hands, evaporate. I can almost see Effy in that hut, leaning her arms on the edge of the pool.
I can’t see her of course, I don’t know she’s there, but it’s all starting to make sense. My heart is careening around inside my chest, the blood pumping, the cold fear of seeking and maybe finding is spreading through me like I took a drink of it.
She’s there.
I know she’s there.
There with Dave.
Oh, I started out at the gym, she can say if I catch her, and then I just needed a little dip and there Dave was, with his dick out, and I just walked right into it and that’s how it got in my mouth!
Clever monkey.
To be stealthy, I come up with a plan that is admittedly a little stupid. I go all the way down to the rock wall, with the idea of hopping neatly over it and creeping along like a spy in an action movie.
Hopping over it ends up like more of a scramble; it’s taller than I thought and even though my quick-beating, adrenaline-pumping heart has burned through most of the alcohol from the evening, I am still pretty drunk.
Either that, or I’m old and not very athletic, so... drunk it is.
The ground on the other side of the wall slopes away sharply from the stone, and it’s got these knots of grass in basins of dirt that make it almost impossible to walk on. I crash my ankles together, and it doesn’t hurt now but it’s going to be a bitch when all this booze and adrenaline wears off.
It’s also a lot longer distance to the hut than I imagined. It’s also fucking cold, I realize, as an intense night wind comes at me from across the deserted plain.
But I keep going.
The pool juts out into the landscape ahead. There’s a way for me to stand (awkwardly) on the slope and peer over the edge of it, hopefully without being noticed by whoever is in there.
So I do it. I creep up there and raise my head over the edge.
It takes me a minute to process what I’m seeing, because I was so hyped up to see Effy and Dave, doing something illicit. Instead the pool is flat and clear, no one in it. And no one in the cha
irs that face out to the open plains, no one there at all.
I’m about to push up and wade through the pool to get back into the compound, because this fucking wall is rough and too tall here to get over with any dignity, when I catch a shadow moving in the corner of my eye.
And hope springs anew.
The hot tub is tucked away in the glowing warm heart of the hut, behind the chairs and down a bit, surrounded by cedar. Peering through the legs of the reclining chairs I can make out the movement of people, and my heart is pounding again. I can hear them, talking, but I can’t make out their voices.
I know, though.
I strain to see into the darkness.
Fucking Effy. I remember the amusement on her face when I told her I’d called Dave and made him send her on the trip. I’m the one who put all the pieces together for her, made it happen.
But Dave?
Oh well. I’m already moving, already climbing – with much more ease and grace now – onto the side of the pool and lying flat on the granite edge. It’s still warm from earlier in the day. I drop my hand into the water. Warmer than this fucking cold-ass desert.
I can’t see them, and so I make the (drunk, and probably stupid) decision to slide along the edge of the pool on my belly.
It’s probably three in the morning now, and while most everyone went to bed, this is a public place. I can’t believe her fucking audacity, right here in a place anyone could walk into.
A rubbery flipper, from the CEO’s kids, I suppose, who were here this afternoon and have since departed, rolls under my stomach. I push it away and it flops into the water, taking a snorkel and mask with it. The splash isn’t loud but it stops my heart cold, and I freeze.
The shadows of the figures in the hot tub freeze, and my heart clangs through my chest and into the stone. All is lost, and I’m going to be caught here on my belly like a creep.
Although: fuck that. It is my wife Dave is fucking, after all.
But the shadows begin to move again, and the voices pick up. Maybe they didn’t even hear the splash, I think. I’m paranoid. I’m sneaking up to catch my wife in a hot tub with another man.
Through the legs of one of the tables, I see Effy’s face. It’s like it came into the frame of a picture, just for a moment, and I swear she looks right at me. Bam! My whole body goes cold, and I freeze again. Effy smiles.
Then she moves.
Did she see me, I wonder?
I crawl along. Now I’m closer, I can hear the hot tub and the occupants. I can hear Effy’s laugh. I close my eyes and then open them, preparing myself for the sight.
There’s an enclave where extra chairs and some other equipment are stacked in the darkness, next to the hot tub, and I head for it. The cedar wall comes down nearly to the floor but leaves, conveniently enough for me, a space through which to see her.
My cheating wife. Breaking the rules. Fucking a man we work with.
At least I can get a good view of it, though after that I don’t know what I’ll do.
The devious little bitch.
There’s a patch I have to pass through where I might be visible to the hot tubbers, so I make a decision. I rise up slowly and look where I want to go, then I step quickly over to the enclave with my eyes closed. Fuck it, I think. If they see me, they see me.
But they don’t.
I stand in the enclave and listen. It’s too dark back here for them to see my feet, I know. And no one looks under cracks anyway.
Effy is laughing. But it’s this sexual purr of a laugh, the laugh of a horny slut. My cock twitches.
I hear a man’s deep voice as Dave responds. I can’t hear what he says, but I do hear Effy. She laughs. “Oh that’s so bad!” Another silvery laugh.
I drop to the floor slowly. I don’t want to knock anything over and give myself away.
I can only see with my head pressed to the cold stone and one eye peering through the crack.
But it’s enough.
My body freezes again with yet another shock.
I take in the muscled back, the chiseled arms, and I try to place the man in the hot tub.
It isn’t Dave, you see, because this man is dark and dark-haired, not black but some kind of Caribbean mix, and his body is smooth and so... young.
Water glistens as it drips off his torso. He’s rising up from the water, blocking my view of Effy.
And then he sinks down, and turns, and there she is: my unfaithful wife, her porcelain skin enclosed by this meat-head’s thick brawn. She bounces a little. She’s obviously sitting on his lap, her legs have to be wrapped around him, and she has her slender arms on his shoulders.
“This is such a bad idea,” Effy gasps.
I see his hand emerge from the water, and he wipes his thumb across her lower lip. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”
I stare at his face, and I try to place him but I just can’t. Who the fuck is this guy?
My head is spinning and a new kind of pain is stabbing me through the heart: this is a new encounter.
Effy holds her hand up, her wedding ring glittering on it. “I’m married,” she says.
“Yeah?” he says. His hand moves down her chin, down her neck, between her breasts (which are still, thankfully, covered by an elegant black bikini top) and under the water.
I watch as Effy’s weight shifts, and her eyes close. The man, whoever he is, leans forward and sucks her still-suspended ring finger into his mouth.
Effy’s eyes fly open as he releases her finger, and she stares at her bare digit.
This fucker has sucked her ring off into his mouth.
But Effy isn't one to freak out, and her calm reaction only burns through me more painfully. She tips her head. “I’m afraid you have to give that back,” she says.
He murmurs something, and then says, “Come and get it.”
I roll my eyes. But Effy leans in and adjusts herself on his lap. She brushes her lips over his, teasing him, and I know his cock is pressing against her swimsuit bottom and thumping against her clit, because she’s driving me wild and I’m not even the one she’s teasing.
Then she pulls on his lower lip with her teeth.
Then they are sucking on each other’s mouths, Effy’s jaw moving as her dirty tongue searches in his mouth for her wedding ring.
God, what a dirty slut.
Their mouths, at long last, separate, and Effy slides her fingers into her mouth and replaces the ring as she does.
“Do that again,” he says. “I like that.”
“Do you?” Effy says. She leans toward him and whispers something in his ear.
He’s out of the water before you can say “fuck my wife.” Pulling on his suit, his huge boner catching on the material. He has a huge dick, and it finally springs loose and bounces in the air. Effy is still in the water, watching him.
When she rises from the water, I see what she was doing: her bikini top is gone now, floating on the surface of the water, and her pretty, perfect little breasts are free for Mr. No-Name to look at with his lascivious gaze.
I stare at my wife. Her eyes are on his cock. Her hair is slicked back and she looks stunning. Droplets of water cling to her smooth skin, rivers snaking down her back, curving with her features. She walks toward him.
I watch this guy reach out and put his hand on Effy’s head. She looks up at him and her pink tongue flicks out to lick the tip of his cock. I watch as she makes a swipe around his fat, bulbous glans, and then another in the opposite direction. Her hands are below the water still: she’s going to use just her mouth to suck on this guy’s cock.
She takes an inch of him into her mouth and I watch his face change as Effy performs a signature trick of hers on the head of his cock. I don’t even know what it is that she does: she somehow sucks hard while her tongue swirls around. It’s wet and tight and without a doubt one of the filthiest things I’ve ever felt. And here’s this guy – a total stranger, for all I know, enjoying my wife’s delicious trick.
He puts his hand back behind him to hold himself, and he’s pushing his hips toward her, staring down at her. She’s relentless, sucking on the crown of him until I can see the veins on his thick meat pulsing wildly.
She releases him and finally her hand emerges from the water. She grasps his cock and moves it over her lips, rubbing it over her mouth and her cheeks. She turns her head slightly and makes a trip with her tongue over his balls, and then along his shaft, her hand cupping the crown of his dick as she does this, massaging it.
“Now, if I suck all the cum out of your prick,” Effy says, “you have to promise me you can go again.”
This guy is just staring at her. He nods rapidly. I can tell he’s about to blow. Effy has her fingers in her mouth again, and she’s sucking on them. She lets them go with a wet slurp. “You have to promise,” Effy says. “Because I want to get a nice mouthful of cum, but I have something special I like to do that my husband won’t do for me, and I’d be so disappointed if you can’t help me out.”
My breath has stopped in my chest, so I can’t imagine what this guy is thinking. My dick hurts so bad I think it might get bruised, bouncing between my thighs and the fucking stone floor.
Effy looks at loverboy’s cock again and tips her head to one side. “Maybe,” she says, “I had better hedge my bets.”
My stomach goes cold.
Effy brings her fingers to her mouth, and taps them on her lips. “Maybe,” she says, and now she has this guy so wrapped up in her that twenty people could walk in here and he wouldn’t notice. His cock is swelling and twitching and he’s going to burst from her just talking to him.
There’s nothing like hearing some pretty, sweet-looking English girl say shit like this:
“Yes, I think so. I think I’m going to have to ask you to fuck me full of cum in my ass.”
My cheek scrapes across the stone and I feel like it is getting rubbed off, but I have to let my jaw “drop” open. Even for Effy, this is pretty filthy.
“And then, if you can do that, if you can do that to my satisfaction... then I’ll give you your reward.”
Best Hotwife Erotica Vol.3: Caught! Page 4