They made love that night, neither really in the mood to talk about what was coming on the Saturday night, though there was no doubt it was on their minds. Madeleine was particularly fiery in taking her husband, and so wet as she straddled him and had her wicked way with him.
Thursday night, Madeleine had another one of her bookstore events, which meant sex was off the menu. On Friday night, she wanted to save herself for the following day, so again her husband went without.
Hugo felt himself wound tightly. He craved physical contact with his wife ahead of her planned encounter with another man, but he was unable to consummate his desires.
All week Hugo had been anxious about what was coming up, sure, but he’d felt that anxiety before. The surprise was just how scared, excited, nervous and aroused Madeleine was, all at once.
She’d led Hugo on a merry dance since they’d started their date nights, but though sometimes he had suggested certain fantasy situations for them to imagine, it had been Madeleine who’d had the gift to really make her husband believe they were doing it for real.
So Hugo had already experienced that heady mix of emotions before from thinking this was really happening. Madeleine had never experienced anything like it. She seemed a little pale, drawn almost—and yet if he asked her if she was okay, if she was worried about the date, she would smile, lights flickering on in her eyes, and she would become breathless with uncertain excitement. She was giddy, dizzy with anticipation—Hugo knew that feeling so well, felt it himself to a great degree, but now had Madeleine as a distraction.
Thursday night, he stayed home while she was doing her thing at the bookstore. He went to bed, even drifted off to sleep, and when he woke a little later, Madeleine was out in the living room, talking to someone on the phone. It didn’t take long for Hugo to realize it was Matthew, the guy she was all set to go on a date with Saturday night.
Hugo was instantly hard as he heard her, even before he could make out what she was saying. Just knowing she was having an intimate conversation with another man put him on edge.
“Oh, I know how lucky I am,” she was saying. He couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but it seemed she’d been accurate in stating that she’d talked to this guy about her husband and his secret fantasy. That was a good thing, Hugo decided. The guy knew where he stood from the outset.
“Yeah, I was pretty unsure about it at first… sure, I thought about hot guys sometimes, you know, fantasized… no, I never thought about doing that.”
Hugo crept to the doorway, keeping to the shadows, and peered through the crack in the door.
“It was crazy—it is crazy… really? There is?”
Madeleine was sitting on the window seat, leaning back against the wall as she often had when spending some personal time in the company of her view, and particularly her view of the students and Connor.
“And I thought it was just my husband being weird!”
It felt like the old days as he paused to simply watch her a while. She was wearing her smart work gear, of course, though she’d removed her suit jacket to leave her in just the short skirt and white blouse, her legs covered by smart black pantyhose.
“It’s just fun. An ego boost, you know? And what it does to the libido... God...”
The way she was sitting, her skirt was pushed up a little, and while one hand held the phone up to her ear, the other danced circles on her thighs, creeping steadily upward.
“And you’re called a ‘Bull’—isn’t that kind of demeaning?”
He felt that tightness in his chest as he listened, the pressure of jealousy from realizing his wife had probably been in frequent contact with this guy, by email or phone, since that initial online connection, but she hadn’t opened up about any of it.
He supposed this was part and parcel of what he was doing with Madeleine—he had to accept her side of the deal, even come to appreciate her independence.
“Oh yes, I’m sure I will. But so far it’s been kinda fun winding him up, teasing him.”
She wasn’t making any effort to talk quietly to Matthew, assuming it was him she was talking to—and that made it seem to Hugo firstly that she wasn’t attempting to hide anything, and secondly that she might even hope to wake her husband up with her late-night conversation.
“Control over him? Oh, I’m not sure it’s like that… you think?”
Hugo felt conflicted—he wanted to go out there, be with her, perhaps even sexually if she was in the right mood, and just after talking to her date he suspected she had to be. But he was also curious about what she was saying to her date, and did not want to affect the conversation by being out there.
He also had the old urge to just pause and watch her, take in the magnificence of her beauty. Madeleine, his goddess.
“Well, maybe it’s something to think about one day.”
Was she getting tips from Matthew on how to do this whole marital dating thing? Hugo felt curious what the guy was saying to her—if he was so relaxed about the fact she had a husband allowing her to do this, and he was a regular on this marital dating website, perhaps he’d done this a few times before.
“Well, okay.”
Hugo was about to head out there, to see if she might put him on speaker, since the conversation seemed more interesting than personal. Then Madeleine giggled, and stopped him just before he had a hand on the door handle.
She said to her date: “I have my suit on. Well, I took my jacket off. “
Hugo paused, and then knelt back down.
Madeleine was running her free hand down her body, from her neck down over her chest, then down to her thigh and along the smooth dark nylon of her pantyhose. It was a graceful motion that Hugo had seen before when he’d watched her in secret.
He could see her breathing beginning to deepen.
“I can’t tell you that—I haven’t even met you yet,” she said quietly, but Hugo could see her blush faintly, and her hand flicked open a couple of buttons of her blouse before slipping inside to cup her cleavage.
A few moments fondling herself, and Madeleine’s hand moved back to unfasten more of her buttons, her shirt falling open to reveal a pale pink and white satin bra, complete with a little bow poised just between her breasts.
She giggled again, said in that girlish, flirty voice of hers: “Well if you must know, it’s pink and white. Silk… Feels very nice… soft… warm...”
Hugo felt the tension grow inside him. Had she forgotten he was there in the bedroom? That he might very well be awake? He watched her balance the phone between her shoulder and cheek, slipping off her blouse completely.
Once happy it was cast off to slunk dejectedly to the floor, she was leaning back against the wall again, the hand not now retrieving her phone slipping down the front of her bra to reveal seriously stiff nipples. She was caressing herself, teasing herself by brushing her hand over one sensitive bud, then the other.
And then she was slipping her bra strap over her shoulder, reaching behind to unfasten the catch.
Still talking to her prospective date on the phone.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she was putting on a really soft, seductive voice, her words almost dripping like honey.
Hugo couldn’t take his eyes off her, she was magnificent. He watched her hand stroking her thigh, drawing circles on her pantyhose, edging up until they were tracing out the crease at the top of her leg, and finally caressing her mound.
“Is it hard?” she breathed, her lips curling into a wicked grin. “How big is it?”
Hugo felt his stomach churning, imagining some guy in another part of the city holding his cock while he talked to Madeleine.
But she was so sexy.
“Oh God… I think I might be too tight for that...”
Hugo shivered, but sat tight. He wasn’t going to interrupt this.
Madeleine lifted her hips, and now she peeled off her pantyhose.
“I suppose they are quite wet already...”
Hugo was startled by the fact that she wasn’t wearing any panties underneath. Had she really gone to work all day without wearing panties? The thought made his hardness throb. He was so taken aback he almost missed how she brushed the nylon across her pussy, moaning at the friction as it pressed at her sensitive groove, spreading her wetness over her skin.
“Oh I’m not sure I’d let you do that... Well, perhaps so long as my husband never found out...”
Hugo was fairly sure she at least suspected he was watching now. Grazing the rough nylon over her tummy and her breasts, over her raw distended nipples and gently up her neck as though applying her scent like a perfume, she had to know her display was driving him wild. Promising him a body that already smelled of sex, that he’d get to sample her personal flavor whenever he kissed her, her performance was too graceful to be for the man on the phone.
She briefly touched her hose to her face, breathing in as though to try to ascertain why her husband or any other man could be so turned in by the musk of her sex, then she let it fall to join her blouse on the floor.
“Well now I’m not wearing anything,” she said, and Hugo saw her remove her skirt, adding: “Mmm… my husband likes doing that to me…”
He watched her touching herself, shaking a little, confused about whether he was excited by her display and her commentary for her admirer, or terrified that the extent of her intimacy with him already meant that their date made full sex inevitable.
He could hear in the stillness of the night how wet she was—did she suspect, or know, he was watching her?
“I can’t believe I’m doing this while I’m on the phone with you.”
She ducked down briefly and reached for her purse, which was lying on the floor below her. From inside she retrieved a black velvet pouch.
Hugo gasped as he saw her open the pouch to reveal a long, lilac but otherwise realistic-looking fake cock. When had she bought that?
She listened to her admirer on the phone, and gently stroked her stomach and chest with the tip of her toy.
She smiled, and moaned into the phone, “I bet you have a beautiful cock. I can’t wait to see it.”
Jealousy burned through Hugo’s every vein—and yet his long experience growing accustomed to the sensation made him embrace it, turning the sharp tightness into a mere part of his pleasure experience watching his hot wife bring that fake cock up to her face, her lips parting to kiss its tip, to lick along the underside of its shaft.
“Can you see me licking it?” she breathed, “Sucking it into my mouth?”
She slipped it inside her mouth, slurping a little and exaggerating her moans, the sounds of her lips sliding over the veiny rubber cock, for the benefit of her audience.
Then she was brushing it over her body again, down her breasts and stomach, around her mound and down to her pussy, nudging the tip against her clit and rubbing the shaft against her soaking lips.
Another long, low moan and she was circling the head of her toy around her glistening lips, until she slowly slipped it inside her.
Hugo caught his breath again, and felt certain she must have heard his involuntary response.
Madeleine had another cock inside her. It might have been fake, but the thing was realistic enough for him to imagine it was someone else’s appendage—and perhaps, for her to imagine it. And there was the small matter of the other man speaking with her on the phone.
“Oh God, I love you how feel inside me…”
He was so hard, he couldn’t stand it. Madeleine looked so beautiful, her hand working slowly to help the thing glide in and out of her tight, wet hole, the huge cock stretching her, reaching every sensitive part of her as it sank deep inside her.
She moaned, “Oh I shouldn’t… my husband will wake up…”
He saw her drop the phone, her other hand moving to coax her clit as she fucked herself, panting for air as she drilled herself with the great fake cock.
Hugo couldn’t remain hidden any longer. She smiled ecstatically as he emerged from the bedroom, giving him the warmest of feelings.
“You done watching?” she said, withdrawing her toy, resting it against her pussy.
“You done with your friend?”
“Oh I hung up ages ago.”
He took the sex toy from her, and now ducked down to replace it with his tongue, unable to keep his raw hunger for her at bay. He tasted and smelled a hint of her toy on her pussy, but it only drove on his hunger, perhaps the thought of how sexy his pretty blonde wife was to be ordering such a product from whichever online store it was that must have been getting rich from the desires of horny wives across the nation.
Realizing the fake cock was still in his hand, he offered it up to Madeleine, who now took it and placed it to her lips again, tasting herself as her tongue twirled around its tip.
“You think you’ll go all the way with him on Saturday?” he asked her, and felt a shiver from the thought that such an eventuality was a real possibility.
She smiled, shrugged. “Depends what he’s like.”
“But it’s a possibility?”
“It’s a possibility.”
He knelt up on the window seat and now steered his own cock to her flushed pussy lips, his hands on her knees as he slid so easily inside her dripping tightness.
As he fucked her, he saw her head turn, little lights flickering on inside her eyes.
Across the street, the light was on in Connor’s bedroom, and the tanned lothario appeared to have company.
“He doesn’t believe in curtains, does he?” Hugo said dryly, wondering how much of their own display was being concealed by the angle of their blinds.
She turned back to her husband, as though deciding she didn’t need to watch her crush seducing a young brunette in the apartment opposite.
“I feel jealous, watching him,” she said with a half smile as he slowly moved inside her. “Doesn’t that seem wrong to you?”
“You want him. Sure you’re jealous,” he said. “You can have him, you know.”
She shook her head, but pushed him up, picked herself up and stood facing the window, pointedly pushing out her butt to solicit his input.
“I have a date on Saturday,” she said as he slid back inside her insanely wet pussy. “Isn’t that crazy?”
They fucked like animals in front if the windows, and Hugo couldn’t be certain what fired up his pretty wife most—the athletic male mounting the brunette across the street, or the prospect that she would actually be dating a man who was not her husband in a few nights.
There was no doubt though. She was very fired up. They both were.
Three
Saturday. Waking up felt like arising on Christmas morning. Hugo was almost tempted to look out the windows to see if it had snowed during the night. It was cold enough.
He was feeling pretty keyed up by what was coming, but it didn’t help with his inner tension that Madeleine had refused sex the night before, stating that she wanted to be fresh and focused ahead of her date.
She was awake before her husband, which was a surprise on a day in which she had no work shift. Having had trouble getting to sleep the previous night because of the thoughts going around and around in his head about what might happen the next day, by the time he’d eventually got to sleep, he was dead to the world until 10 am.
He woke to the sound of the front door closing as Madeleine came in from a visit to the gym.
“Hey sleepyhead,” she said, doing his morning glory no favors by peeling off her sweatpants and hooded top in front of him to reveal that sexy one-piece swimsuit of hers.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“It’s a big day, right?” she smiled, casually grazing her palms over her full breasts so that her nipples stiffened up underneath her swimsuit.
“Certainly is—you feel ready for it?”
She shrugged. “Feel a little nervous to be honest,” she said. “That’s why I’ve been to the gym—got to keep moving, right?”
&nbs
p; She wanted him to accompany her as she kept moving, to help keep her distracted from what was happening that evening—and yet the whole day seemed to revolve around it.
She started off with stripping off that swimsuit in front of him before a quick rinse in the shower, and then they were out soon afterwards, and Hugo found himself tailing her around Bloomingdale’s, trying to find something to wear that evening.
He felt safe as long as they weren’t wandering through the lingerie department. Yet he soon found the awkwardness of being dragged past so many racks of skimpy little panties or bras paled almost into insignificance when he reminded himself that she wasn’t shopping for him, she wasn’t even shopping for herself—she was shopping, potentially, for some clothes to impress her date.
After what seemed like half a day, she finally contented herself with the tiniest dress Hugo had ever seen, a little blue number which barely covered her rear as she was trying it on, and was so revealing around her cleavage with its plunging scoop neckline that it left nothing to the imagination. And Hugo swore the thing had some kind of spandex in the material, it was so skin-tight, molding itself to her every mouthwatering curve.
“Might as well just wear your underwear and dispense with the dress,” he murmured as he sat in the changing room, watching her sport it for the mirror.
“Jealous?” she grinned, twisting her shoulders this way and that to check her angles.
“Of course,” he smiled, then chuckled as she stepped back and placed her hand gently between his legs to feel his hardness there. “Are you sure it’s the right size? It’s not one or two too small?”
“You love it,” she said.
In the lingerie department she toyed with a few possibilities in the Agent Provocateur range, including a nearly see-through blue lace bra and thong set that made Hugo wince to see her even consider it for the eyes of another man.
“You’re quite concerned about your underwear considering it’s a first date,” he said to her quietly as she mulled over an alternative black lace teddy.
She looked at him and gave him an impish grin. “You really are jealous. I love it.”
Madeleine Strays: A Wife-Watching Romance Page 2