Madeleine Strays: A Wife-Watching Romance

by Max Sebastian

  He saw her look up into Connor’s eyes, a question on her face—teasing him: you really want this? As she pressed that huge hot column of flesh to her face. Hugo wasn’t looking at Connor to catch his response, but whatever it was made the silent question on Madeleine’s face melt into a wicked, sultry look of pure lust and desire.

  She was licking him again, rising up to the tip, but this time with clear intent in her beautiful dark eyes.

  Hugo drew in a sharp breath as he watched her part her lips, and slip them over the head of the other man’s bulging manhood. She slowly slid down, taking more of him inside her, her hands gripping tightly around the base of his shaft.

  Madeleine—his Madeleine—was sucking a stranger’s cock.

  Connor groaned, long and deep, tilting his head back, his eyes closed as she rose and fell on his hardness, then withdrew, her tongue gliding up and down his shaft in the same slow, sensual rhythm a few times before she took him back inside her mouth.

  Hugo throbbed with excitement at such a wanton display from his pretty wife.

  Madeleine tucked a rogue strand of her hair behind her ear, as though to allow her husband to better see her face rather than to pull it out of her way. For a while she focused her sucking on his tip, swirling her tongue around his head, feeling the strange topography of that large rounded helmet with her lips as her hand pumped his shaft firmly to maintain the rhythm.

  Gazing down at the beautiful flushed blonde as she pumped his cock and bobbed her head over its tip, Connor placed his hand on her head, his fingers moving through her silky blonde hair. He gripped her tightly, guiding her rhythm, fucking her face, no doubt feeling her soft lips made waxy by her bright red lipstick.

  Connor moaned, loudly, then they heard him warn her, “I’m so close.”

  Madeleine grinned up at him, and Hugo saw how her makeup was already smeared. She looked so sexy. Then she said to the man who was not her husband, “So come for me.”

  That almost had Hugo exploding in his pants again.

  She slipped Connor’s cock back in her mouth, stretching her soft scarlet-stained lips around the man’s tip, sinking down on him, her hand continuing to pump him, the other cradling his sac.

  Connor placed his hand on her head again as she took him deep, and for a few moments he was just fucking her pretty face in obscene ecstasy.

  He let out a deep guttural groan, and Hugo saw his cock flinch in her hands. He was visibly pumping into her. Hugo heard his wife swallowing, even above the low noise of the traffic half a block away—she was gulping down his cream, her face the picture of bliss and satisfaction at such a filthy end to their little date.

  A little of his emission escaped her lips, splashing over her chin, her neck, her upper chest.

  Madeleine gave an impish grin, wiping the fluid, rubbing it into her skin. She opened her mouth to clean his cock as it throbbed, the last few aftershocks dying down following his climax. Hugo swore he could see the come inside her mouth.

  He stepped back as he saw his wife smile warmly up at Connor, the flicker of jealousy returning to him even as his entire body cried out to go over there and drag Madeleine away, tear off her clothes, reclaim her as his own.

  Then Lucy pulled him back, out into the street and over to the other side, away from the direction that would lead the two new lovers home. He felt as though someone had fed him drugs—his head was spinning, his chest felt as though it was on fire.

  Madeleine had really done it—she had gone down on the guy from across the street, her crush ever since they’d arrived in New York City. From across the street, they were able to see the new couple fixing their clothing, laughing and cooing at each other, before they re-started their walk home.

  Apparently, she’d really enjoyed herself. Even with that hint of bittersweet jealousy glimmering in his veins, Hugo felt wonderful.

  Thirteen

  They followed Madeleine and Connor home in a cab. Hugo felt his heart thudding all the way, almost as though he was in incredibly poor shape.

  It had been such a strange experience. On one level, it was really nothing special—just a woman making her male companion feel better, almost as though she had been giving him a brief massage of the shoulders. Yet culture imbrued the act with such personal significance.

  To Hugo, the thing that had really taken his breath away, and spurred his jealousy more than anything, had been the way Madeleine looked at him, the way she had been with him. The graceful, incredibly feminine way she moved around him—all part of the flirtation, he supposed—in a way she did not with her husband. The way she looked at him, her eyes so very bright, admiring and affectionate. Obsessed, almost.

  The shocking thing about watching her kneel before him and take his cock into her mouth was that it seemed to Hugo that she did it not to fulfill her own sexual craving to be wicked, or because she knew it would eventually fuel her husband’s sexual fantasies, but because she had so enjoyed her evening with Connor, and liked him so much.

  He knew she had been adamant that whatever happened, she would never fall for another man, there would never be any threat to Hugo’s status as her primary, number-one guy. Watching her doing it, though, revealed how difficult it was to actually untangle the lust thing from the love thing.

  Hugo had to tell himself that she was merely being flirtatious, merely playing up her feminine wiles to attract Connor, to seduce him, to keep him interested in a way she did not need to do with her husband. He had to tell himself she did not love her new boyfriend.

  Oh, but how the danger spiced up the excitement.

  They had the cab stop some way from the entrance to Hugo’s building so they could safely observe Connor escort Madeleine inside. Lucy held Hugo back, since apparently he wasn’t thinking straight, he was set to go straight in there after them. He allowed the pretty Asian American to contain him, giving her a nod to signal his realization that she was right, they couldn’t go in yet.

  “Is she going to sleep with him?” Hugo asked Lucy, feeling that familiar conflicted sensation again.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Or at least, I think if she was going to, it wouldn’t be in your apartment.”

  “Right. Because we might come back any minute.”

  “I’ve texted her to say we’re heading back after our night out. She knows we’re coming.”

  They crossed the street to hover outside the entrance to Connor’s building. Hanging out, trying not to look suspicious, embracing if they thought they were looking suspicious—Hugo feeling increasingly comfortable with Lucy doing that, though in more of a sibling-style relationship than in a sexual way.

  Then Connor surprised them a little, suddenly appearing from Hugo’s building and crossing the street toward them, heading directly for them, since they were in the way of the door.

  Lucy took emergency evasive action and actually pulled Hugo into a french kiss, such that he tasted the traces of her most recent cosmopolitan on her lips.

  Connor drifted by inches away from them, apparently none the wiser that they weren’t actual lovers, clueless that they had been monitoring him.

  “Jesus,” Hugo said breathlessly as they eventually broke apart.

  “My God,” Lucy laughed. “I wish I had you to practice on in college!”

  “Okay, let’s not mention this to Maddie.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “As safe as your secrets tend to be, I suppose.”

  Lucy grinned. “I’ll only blackmail you for what you can afford.”

  Hugo raised an eyebrow. “What can I afford?”

  “Details,” she said. “You know—of what’s going on with you guys.”

  Hugo rolled his eyes.

  He was a little surprised that Lucy followed him across the street, into the building and up the elevator, all the way to the apartment front door. But the whole way his thoughts were more focused on calculating how long Connor had been inside with Madeleine—how much time he might have had with he
r before coming out. Judging by the length of time the elevator took getting to their floor, he can’t have had long at all—probably not much more than escorting his date to her door, a quick smooch and then departure.

  The elevator doors opened, and Hugo felt himself slipping back into a daze, almost as though he was inebriated by liquor. The patterned décor of the wallpaper swirling and whirling around him. His brain protecting itself from potential shock, perhaps. From the fear that he would open that apartment door to find a woman who was no longer his wife, no longer the sweetheart he had married, forever changed by her experience going down on another man.

  Any fears he did have melted away as soon as the door opened, and there she was, still wearing the short dress from her date, her makeup a little smeared, her lipstick reapplied though with a subtle hint that she’d used her mouth for something other than kissing.

  There was a brief pause as they both looked at each other, Madeleine perhaps wondering if he knew what she’d done, Hugo curious as to what the protocol was now—as far as she was concerned, he knew only that she’d been on a second date with ‘Will’, but that Lucy had talked to him and secured his approval for the hypothetical concept of her having an affair, with the details only coming to light when she was ready to tell.

  “Hey,” she said, her face breaking out into a delayed but heartfelt smile. “I missed you. Have a good time with Lucy?”

  “I think I should be asking you that question,” he gave her a smile in return. “How was your date?”

  She shrugged, but he saw emotion bubbling up behind her eyes. She seemed to be holding back, putting a brave face on things as she said, “Oh, you know. So-so. It was okay. I enjoyed it.”

  Hugo was somewhat surprised. Was she upset?

  It was awkward having Lucy there. Hugo wanted to hold his beautiful wife in his arms, make love to her there and then—reclaim her, show her that nothing she could have done could threaten his love for her. But Lucy was hovering over his shoulder.

  Madeleine’s eyes flickered all over his face, apparently seeking out any hint that he knew what she’d done, or was angry at her for doing it.

  He felt pity for her, for the anxiety she felt in not knowing whether she had his full approval for the complex fantasy she wanted to pursue in real life, in worrying that he would take offense to it after all, to her little white lies, her concealment of her crush in the guise of some random Internet date.

  Hugo thought to hell with it—to hell with Lucy being there. He reached forward, circled his hand around the back of her head and pulled her to him, her soft lips to his.

  He kissed her hard, caring nothing whether they were observed, whether they were judged. He needed to connect with his gorgeous bride, and show her what she meant to him.

  After a moment of surprise, Madeleine sank into his kiss, expressing full relief at his feelings for her, before that feeling became simple strong desire.

  Hugo felt the unusual waxiness of her heavy lipstick, tasted the sweetness of her lips and the bitter hint of cigarette smoke—a flavor he certainly wasn’t used to from kissing her, which made her seem somehow different from the Madeleine he’d known. Rebellious. Wicked. Sexy, though he would not ordinarily approve of her smoking.

  And as he kissed her, he realized that he could smell the faint whiff of male cologne on her—more subtle than the time when she’d hoodwinked him in that hotel—and, dear God, he even suspected that he could taste something faint in her mouth that might just have been the almost imperceptible traces of another man.

  Hugo shivered, but found the thought of where her mouth had been earlier that evening exhilarating. God, she was hot, God she was wicked.

  After a while, she broke away, said, “Wait, I haven’t… I haven’t freshened up yet.”

  But he was kissing her again, breathing in the strange musty smell, tasting a slight saltiness on her lips that he knew he was not imagining. Was there something wrong with him? Finding it so hot that she’d strayed from the pure path of marriage?

  Madeleine was apparently a little surprised, taken aback at his sudden desire for her, but after a moment or two, she relaxed into it, enjoyed his feverish craving for her.

  But finally, she broke away from him, took a step back, and Hugo allowed her space.

  “You want a drink before you go?” she asked Lucy, who smiled, nodded. A little shocked at the PDA.

  “How was he?” Lucy asked her friend. “You do much?”

  “Oh, you know,” she said. “Second date, so nothing much happened. I guess we kissed a little.”

  “Was the symphony any good?”

  “Uh… yeah, it was,” Madeleine said as she fetched glasses from the kitchen cupboard.

  Hugo excused himself to the bathroom, and as he proceeded toward the bedroom, he caught the briefest glimpse of a look passing between Madeleine and Lucy—that his wife did not mean for him to see. It was clearly a look designed to ask Lucy if Hugo was all right, if things were all right generally, if there was anything Madeleine needed to be wary of, careful of, in dealing with him now.

  In the bathroom, he was too aroused to pee.

  Standing there in front of the toilet, his cock was semi-hard in his hands, and in that state it was biologically impossible for him to empty his bladder. He stood in silence, except that he could hear through to the living room with surprising clarity. The way the vents were designed, he assumed.

  “Did you talk about it?”

  “Of course.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He seemed okay with it.”

  “You told him everything?”

  “I told him what he needed to hear. To be informed, to give his consent.”

  “And you really think he’s okay with it?”

  “I think he’s excited that you’re actually going through with this. He wants to know the details when you’re ready to tell him.”

  “So did you tell him about Connor?”

  “I told him enough to know he’d be okay with you being with him. And if he discovered it was Connor, and not some guy named Will that you’ve been with, he won’t be upset.”

  “Even that I kind of lied to him?”

  “As long as you’re not trying to hurt him. As long as you’re not being malicious—but you wouldn’t be. You can see it in his eyes, he thinks it’s hot you have this fantasy.”

  “He does?”

  “He doesn’t want this to be only about making his fantasy come true. He wants it to be about your fantasy too, and to hear you have the fantasy too, even though it’s a little different—really gets him going.”

  “That’s fantastic!”

  “I’ll say. You’ve got the most amazing husband there, Mads, don’t let him go.”

  “Oh, I won’t. I know that.”

  “So how was it? Tonight?… I’ll take it that it was pretty amazing, then.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “Hugo’s under the impression you might have gone down on him tonight, by the way.”

  “I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

  “You make sure you do. That’s the only thing he won’t forgive—being excluded.”

  “I know that.”

  “So when’s your next date with Connor?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Soon. You’re sure he’d be okay with it this way?”

  “Certain. Jesus. I wish I had a husband like him.”

  “I’m very lucky.”

  “You better recognize that. Treat him to what he wants.”

  Hugo felt a little self-conscious, thought perhaps they’d be wondering where he’d got to. He flushed the toilet and the sound of the conversation was gone.

  When he emerged from the bathroom, Lucy was already at the front door, fastening her coat once again, ready to go.

  “Hey, thanks for a really nice evening,” she said to him, and he saw both pity and a kind of affectionate respect in her eyes. Lucy had always been much, much closer to Madeleine—obviously, since th
ey went way back, she was Madeleine’s best friend—but Hugo felt just then that he had a really strong connection with her now.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I think I needed you to hold my hand.”

  A strange look passed over Madeleine’s face as she glanced at the two of them, as though she suddenly suspected that they might be keeping the whole truth from her, in the way that she thought she was keeping back a little of the truth from them.

  Lucy flung her arms around him, hugged him tight. She said quietly in his ear: “You take care of yourself. Call me whenever you need.”

  “I will,” he said.

  When the door closed behind Lucy, Madeleine had the look of hesitancy in her eyes again, as though she was afraid now that her friend had left them alone, the real truth would come out, and Hugo would be angry with her.

  “Hey,” he said, voice soft, trying to reassure her he was still okay with everything.

  “Hey,” she said, offering him a faltering smile.

  She was blushing as he stepped up to kissed her, not quite so frenzied this time—slow, measured, loving. Madeleine responded, smiling as she kissed him, the tension seeming to leach out of her body. His hands moved naturally to her breasts, touching her, seeking out that oh-so-wonderful shape of femininity, her luscious curves, which another man now desired totally, and was being given access, slowly.

  Was Hugo really willing to give this up? Well, it wasn’t really giving it up. Sharing. Allowing others to appreciate what he got to appreciate all the time.

  She turned slightly, kissing him still, but now over her shoulder, so he could have better access to her breasts, slipping the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, revealing her semi-transparent black bra, which didn’t last long.

  “So you had a good time tonight?” he asked her.

  “Unbelievable,” she said.

  Her nipples were so hard as her breasts were bared, he stooped to take them into his mouth. She placed her hand delicately on the back of his neck as he sampled her flesh.

  She said, “You talked to Lucy about everything?”

  He nodded. “She said your version of this fantasy is different to mine.”