Madeleine Strays: A Wife-Watching Romance

by Max Sebastian

  Connor rose as she returned, and went to her. Hugo’s breath caught as Connor pulled Madeleine to him, bringing his hands up to touch her cheeks before leaning in for a kiss.

  Madeleine was smiling, kissing him back, doing nothing to stop his hands trailing down her neck, over her breasts.

  Hugo felt the jealousy burning, but the excitement at seeing how Madeleine responded to his advances, the thrill imprinted in her features that this athletic godlike man was interested in her, and she was free to indulge in him if she so chose. It was the strangest experience, the stomach-churning loss of control, the cold fear, the dizzying panic that his beautiful wife was about to give herself body and soul to another man, that once this happened, there was no way back, no do-over.

  “I want to check something,” he vaguely heard Lucy say, though he wasn’t paying attention to anything much on this side of the street.

  He was watching Madeleine tilt her head to the side, allowing her new lover to kiss his way down her neck in the most affectionate, sensual way, his hands still gently caressing her breasts.

  Through the binoculars, Hugo could see his wife’s nipples hard through the thin purple material of her blouse. The two of them were kissing again, forcefully, passionately, Madeleine’s hand now curled around the back of Connor’s head, pulling him to her. Hugo could even see glimpses of their tongues as they explored each others’ mouths.

  Hands on her behind, Connor lifted her briefly, showing off his strength, making her laugh.

  Then Hugo felt a hand press against his own hardness, and it made him jump.

  “Sorry,” Lucy said, snatching her hand back. “But I had to know.”

  “Know?” He felt stupid. Hadn’t he told her he wasn’t interested?

  “I had to know how you really feel about all this,” she said. “And now I do.”

  She flashed her eyes as she delivered her verdict on his response to Madeleine’s early foreplay. Hugo shook his head, quietly disapproving. She grinned.

  “Madeleine’s a lucky girl,” she said looking down at the bulge in Hugo’s pants again, as though he might not get her reference. “No wonder she was confused you want her to be with another man.”

  “It’s nothing to do with my size,” Hugo said.

  Across the street, Connor was actually fixing them both drinks now. Madeleine was standing a yard away, watching him, following his every move, and full of giddy smiles like a schoolgirl on a date with the guy of her dreams.

  Champagne, some kind of brandy, and another liqueur Hugo could not identify—it seemed to have the approval of Madeleine, who sipped it once he’d handed it to her, nodded, smiled and flashed her eyes appreciatively.

  As Connor mixed the drinks, they saw Madeleine subtly toying with the cell phone she carried in her hand.

  Another buzz as a text message landed.

  Lucy’s voice cut through the stillness. “She wants to know if you want her to go through with this. If you’ve had any doubts at all.”

  That was Madeleine—had to be sure.

  He felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Through his binoculars, he could see his wife clink glasses with the Other Man—and he could see her clutching that little mobile phone tight in her hands. Waiting for Lucy’s message, waiting for the final verdict: go ahead, or come home.

  Hugo dropped the binoculars, and looked at his evening’s dinner companion. His heart was pounding so loud, he wondered if she could hear it.

  He said, “Tell her that I love her, and that she looks incredibly beautiful, and that I want more than anything for her to have this experience and enjoy it, and then return to me afterward so we can share it together.”

  In the darkness, he heard Lucy sigh. Then she was tapping out the message, and there was no way back.

  Hugo watched his wife and her prospective new lover staring into each others’ eyes, that fiery lustful look on both of their stares, as they supped on the Champagne cocktail. Then they were kissing again. Connor fed her a strawberry, an affectionate, romantic gesture perhaps, and one that amused Madeleine. She fed him the tip of her tongue, and Hugo found himself wondering how much she’d told Connor.

  He knew she was married—did he know her husband was approving of her little affair? He thought probably not at this stage.

  “Should I press the send button?” Lucy said, and Hugo felt another little jolt to the heart, having assumed she’d sent her explosive text message.

  This was Lucy making absolutely sure—giving him every possible chance to stop all this.

  Now he found himself wondering what would happen if he did tell Madeleine to stop, to wait until the next time. What would she say to her date? It was so clear where they were headed otherwise.

  The two of them seemed to be getting on like a house on fire over there, the sexual chemistry between them undeniable. Madeleine was rubbing herself up against him like an affectionate feline, her shoulder caressing his chest as he leaned in to kiss her neck and breathe in her fragrance, and she was smiling so broadly he could see the white of her teeth.

  He quietly gasped as he spotted her hand on Connor’s crotch, gently stroking his bulge, tracing out the shape of another man’s hard cock through his jeans.

  She bit her lip, showing her clear desire.

  Jealousy and desire rippled through Hugo’s body.

  He said, his throat so dry it felt as though his tongue was rubbing up against a cheese grater, “Press it.”

  Sixteen

  He knew it always took a moment or two before a text message went through. Watching her leaning in to Connor, that beaming smile of hers so genuine, so thrilled, kissing him as though she was some frisky single college girl again, Hugo felt suddenly very cold.

  It was happening. He’d given the go-ahead. Pressed the nuclear strike button.

  Lucy was watching too, and they both saw Madeleine seductively feeding Connor a strawberry.

  “You can still stop it,” she said. “You know that. Any time. We can just send her another text.”

  “Will she even remember to monitor her phone?” He was joking really. He didn’t have any intention of stopping her now.

  “Of course she will. She might look as though she’s enjoying herself—and I’m sure she is—but she’s nervous too, remember?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “She needs to know that if you change your mind at any point, the communication channels are open, right?” Lucy said, and Hugo felt oddly comforted at that thought.

  “Sure.”

  Through the binoculars, he could see Madeleine eating yet another strawberry from Connor’s hand, still coyly brushing her side against his chest, allowing him the occasional brief kiss, smiling at him seductively, flirtatiously—but it was getting ever more evident that the pair of them were delaying their progress. Lucy was right—she needed his consent, his constant support.

  It warmed Hugo up inside, and for perhaps the first time since they’d returned to the apartment after dinner, he felt the lust and desire inside him winning out in the battle against the fear and jealousy.

  This was his gift to Madeleine. She was enjoying herself—and she was going to enjoy herself even more—because he had allowed it. Connor was simply a sex toy that Hugo was using on his wife. A sophisticated sex toy, sure, but a sex toy.

  Across the street, they saw Madeleine jump slightly, and knew that Lucy’s text message had finally arrived.

  Hugo trained his binoculars on her face, and witnessed her eyes lighting up, her eyebrows rising, her mouth opening to draw in a sudden breath as she responded to the approval she now had for the nuclear option.

  “I should go,” he heard Lucy say beside him, but he could hear the curiosity in her voice, the flat tone suggesting she would stay if he wanted her to, suggesting she rather wanted to see what was going to happen.

  But he shot down any idea of her staying, replying, “I suppose so.”

  There was a note of disappointment in her face as he turned to see her n
od acceptance of the plan. Lucy stepped away, and Hugo felt the societal pressure to act the good host and at least show her to the door, though he desperately wanted to stand by the window and monitor what was going on.

  “I can see myself out,” she insisted, now looking at him with a certain amount of pity in her face.

  Lucy hadn’t experienced Madeleine under the full darkness of her depression. Oh, she’d been there as a friend the whole time, but whenever a third person had been present, whenever Madeleine had been in the company of someone other than her husband, she’d always put on a brave face. There was no way she’d ever truly understand Hugo’s fundamental need for Madeleine to be happy and enjoying life, or the compersion that had developed in him as a result.

  “Thanks Lucy,” he said as he ignored her and accompanied her to the door. “You have been a great support, really.”

  Stepping out of the door, she nodded again. Wistful, almost.

  “Remember,” she said, “any time, you can text her. You can call her. And it’ll all stop. You can text or call me if you can’t face doing that.”

  Hugo leaned forward, and kissed her gently on the cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin, faintly enjoying the sweet scent of her perfume, though it made his mind wander across the street and think about how Connor must be appreciating similar aspects of Madeleine right now, and he would be able to take them forward to a full conclusion.

  “I’ll be okay,” he said softly, feeling strange to be reassuring her. “It’s going to be a wild ride, and I don’t quite know how I’ll entirely feel about it, but I’ll be okay. We’ll pick up the pieces.”

  “Of course.”

  “And just maybe it will turn out as we all hope,” he smiled, “and the experiment will all be worth it. We’ll have this new thing that we can do, and everyone will be happy.”

  Lucy nodded again, pity still there in her skeptical eyes.

  “You’ll promise to tell me how it goes?” she asked. “Even if you want to leave out… you know, the details.”

  “Of course.”

  “And if it happens and afterwards, you don’t like it, don’t be angry with her, Hugo. It’s your fault too.”

  “I know.”

  Then she was gone, and the door closed on Hugo, and he was alone, standing in darkness across the street from his wife as she prepared to make love to another man.

  Seventeen

  They were still in the kitchen when Hugo returned to the windows, picked up his binoculars again. Connor was behind her, with Madeleine in his arms, kissing her neck as she grinned like someone who had just received the best birthday present ever.

  Part of Hugo felt gently disappointed that his wife didn’t appear to be even more nervous, but he could see she was suppressing her anxiety as Connor now slipped open her blouse to reveal her startlingly bare breasts.

  She wanted this, but she was frightened, too. It gave her an added frisson of desirability that ignited Hugo as he watched her.

  God, she’d purposefully neglected to wear a bra on her date. Her breasts looked magnificent as she leaned back against her new lover’s shoulder and kissed him again, her hand reaching for the back of his neck, her tongue slipping in between his lips. His hands fell over them, concealing them as he caressed them, teased her stiff nipples.

  She turned, and bit her lip as her hand spread all over Connor’s bulge again, and as the tan-skinned god gently kissed the back of her neck, she pulled his strong hand down to press between her thighs, touching her there for the first time, making Hugo wonder if she’d foregone panties as well.

  Connor led her toward the bedroom, and Hugo found himself becoming frantic with worry again.

  Connor and a flushed Madeleine pushed through into the bedroom, which was already lit with warm, gentle lighting that seemed perfectly designed for seduction. Hugo saw Madeleine sit down on the edge of the bed, and expected Connor to shove her back, rip down his pants, take her right there and then. He didn’t. He excused himself to the restroom.

  Hugo jumped as his phone vibrated.

  Pulling it out of his pocket, the light from the screen suddenly seemed too bright in an apartment lit only by the streetlight filtering in through those blinds.

  A text from Madeleine. Hugo’s heart skipped a beat.

  > Are you watching sweetie?

  He smiled, his insides filling with a wonderful warmth. She hadn’t forgotten about him. Even now, moments before a bronzed, athletic Adonis was to take her to heaven and back, she was thinking about Hugo.

  He took a brief look into the binoculars, and caught a glimpse of Madeleine looking across the street toward him.

  He texted back:

  > Every moment. You look so beautiful, honey. He’s a lucky guy. And I’m a lucky guy, too :)

  The text message seemed to go through more quickly this time than when Lucy had texted her. He hit the send button, waited a heartbeat or three, and then saw Madeleine gaze at her phone, a wonderfully contented smile spreading across her pretty face.

  I made that smile, he thought to himself. It was a smile that spoke of her reassurance, that she was supported, that her desire for this new man was being nurtured by her true love without risk of offending or horrifying him.

  Another text came through to Hugo’s phone:

  > I love you so much. You’re the most wonderful person I ever met. I thank my lucky stars every day that you’re mine.

  Hugo was basking in that comment from her, and as normal with any complement she ever paid him, he had no idea how to respond, but while he paused trying to come up within something, she sent him another text:

  > Take your clothes off, sweetie. I want to know you’re with me. You’re part of this. I want to make you come as you watch.

  Hugo stiffened, his heart rate picking up again.

  He liked that thought from her—he was part of this. It was just that she was over there being unfaithful to him: this was almost a threesome. She was playing with Connor while in the full knowledge that Hugo was watching and enjoying her.

  He wrestled to tear off his clothes as quickly as he could before snatching up his phone again.

  > I’ve taken them off. I’m so hard watching you, honey. You’re so gorgeous.

  He made himself comfortable on the window seat, in the very same position Madeleine had taken so many times to watch the apartment across the street. Then he curled his fingers around his rigid shaft and went back to watching her.

  She smiled as Connor returned, glancing into her phone one last time as though she’d been playing Candy Crush while waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom.

  Then, Madeleine rose to put her arms around her new boyfriend, and Hugo held his breath.

  *

  It seemed so unreal that she was over there. They’d both watched Connor’s apartment so much, and yet here was the familiar sight of Madeleine in that environment, seemingly incongruous in that place.

  He watched as Madeleine pinned her new lover to the wall opposite the bed, both hands on his face as she kissed him. Her body seemed to melt into his as his strong hands hauled up the hem of her skirt, revealing the smooth roundness of her shapely buttocks, and those wicked stockings and suspenders.

  They were not wasting time.

  They moved so well together, so sensually, it was shocking to Hugo. It was so horrifically wrong—and yet so stunningly beautiful at the same time.

  She giggled as he massaged her behind, and Hugo could see her run both hands down his chest, his thighs, and up to rub his crotch. She was on fire, her eyes so wide, so alive, her face full of energy, full of life.

  Connor stooped, curled his arm under her butt, and suddenly lifted her. She responded with a surprised exclamation, but wrapped her legs around his waist as he turned her, leaning her back against the wall, taking control.

  She had that beaming wide smile plastered across her face as he slipped her blouse open again, and then off her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor before
he buried his face in her breasts, holding her tight in his arms as his hungry mouth found her hard nipples. She held him tight with both hands behind his neck as he licked her sensitive buds.

  She pushed him down, back, so she could kneel before him, groping at his fly, grinning as she unzipped him, as though she were now opening that world’s-best-birthday-present.

  Down came Connor’s pants, and both Madeleine’s hands were around his huge cock.

  It really did look strange, as hairless as it was. As the man unfastened his shirt buttons, Hugo could see that it went all the way up—not a hair on his bronzed body from the neck down.

  Madeleine planted gentle kisses around his abdomen as her fingers curled around that bare shaft.

  It looked so obscene to Hugo, but having had some preparation for this, his feelings of jealousy had dissolved into a low simmer. Madeleine pumped him a few times, taking in Connor’s shape with her fingers, looking up at her new lover with that wide smile.

  She stretched her lips around his tip, sliding him inside her mouth, tasting him, her tongue snaking around the head.

  Hugo felt his own hardness throb in his hands in response, almost as though his pretty wife was now sucking on his own cock, not that of a relative stranger standing there across the street in another apartment.

  He watched as she hungrily swallowed him up, her head sinking down on that impossibly large shaft, his manhood completely filling her mouth.

  She worshipped him, using her cheeks, her lips, her nose to caress his shaft in the moments she did not have him inside her, rubbing him over as much of her skin as possible, marking herself with his scent, his presence. Adoring this strange experience of another cock.

  And Hugo felt so strangely connected, so that he could almost experience what the other man was experiencing. His memories of having Madeleine performing this on him merged with what he was seeing, meaning he wasn’t quite so detached from the scene across the street.