Madeleine Strays: A Wife-Watching Romance

by Max Sebastian

  Hugo nodded slowly, amused at how his snail’s pace was winding her up—she wanted to be gone, she wanted to be with Connor, there wasn’t time. He was quietly buzzing at the prospect that his wife was going to see another man again, was going to let him do all manner of unspeakably depraved things with her.

  It didn’t get old, didn’t lose its power. Wife sharing. The question was whether exposure to the bright light of a new relationship would take the shine off her marriage, make her lose interest with Hugo. He suspected he’d answered that particular concern already. The key to his keeping her satisfied while still interested in him was to allow her out, and then make the most of the opportunity to reclaim her—he saw that.

  As for now—well, he could hardly refuse her consent at this stage.

  Just as he was about to nod and smile and step back to allow her into the bedroom to start a rapid change of outfit before dashing out the door to the arms of another man, a sudden thought came to him.

  “I’ll say that you can go...” he said to her calmly, “on one condition.”

  “Yes?”

  He smiled. “After dinner with him, or whatever you’re doing, you come back here to our apartment.”

  “Come back here?”

  Hugo nodded. “You come back here, and whatever you do with Connor you do it in our bedroom, in our bed.”

  Madeleine rumpled her brow—not opposed to the idea, but confused, curious.

  “Why—where will you be?” she asked, and the mere formation of the question on her lips got her to where Hugo’s idea lurked. “You want to watch, don’t you?”

  He was silent, but he did not deny her question.

  Madeleine glanced over toward the windows, and the street, and the apartment in the next building. Hugo could see a glimmer of mischief in her eyes—he could see she liked the idea of being watched, and perhaps of pulling the wool over Connor’s eyes about where Hugo was.

  “Where will you be?” she asked him, as he now stepped back, and accompanied her to the bedroom to change.

  “I guess the obvious place would be in the wardrobe,” he said.

  Madeleine stripped off her clothes before finding fresh underwear, her nudity and the outfit she now changed into quickening Hugo’s pulse considerably. Was this really going to happen? Was he going to see her taken by another man, just a few feet away?

  She sat on the bed, texting Connor, as Hugo checked out the built-in wardrobe that spanned the entire back wall of the bedroom. It seemed suitable enough for a man to conceal himself comfortably enough. Perhaps with a few cushions here, some spare pillows there.

  He closed the mirrored wardrobe doors, and went to the bed to see if someone occupying it, or perhaps ramming his huge cock into another man’s bride, might be able to see that someone was hiding in the wardrobe with the door open just sufficiently to see. With the lights down low, he didn’t believe so.

  Madeleine’s cell phone buzzed with a message, and she giggled as she read it. “He says yes to meeting me here. And he suggested getting food delivered so he can spend every minute possible… well, you know.”

  “Making you come like a freight train,” Hugo chuckled. “So he’s coming right here?”

  She nodded. “Should be here in twenty minutes. I need to get in the shower.”

  “And I need to get myself holed up inside the wardrobe,” Hugo said.

  When he was ready and in position, Madeleine double-checked his risk of discovery.

  “Can’t see you at all,” she said, fresh-faced and rosy-cheeked from her shower.

  “I can see you, though. Feeling jealous already.”

  He could only trust her that he wasn’t visible from outside the wardrobe, but he was still a touch nervous about being discovered. That wasn’t all he was nervous about. It was one thing watching his wife from across the street, but quite another to see it happen right here, just a few feet away.

  “You’re okay?” she said, standing over him as he got comfortable on the floor of the closet, cushioned by spare pillows and bedding.

  “Absolutely.”

  “You have your phone?”

  “Yes. It’s here.”

  “Because if it gets too much…”

  “I know,” he said, feeling that familiar tension as his pulse quickened.

  She closed the closet door leaving a crack through which he could see out, and for a moment or two, sat back on the bed, ensuring that her husband was going to be completely hidden from view.

  *

  The waiting. Sometimes that was the hardest thing of all.

  Sitting there in the shadows, knowing what was coming, and even with that hint of a possibility of stopping it if he really had to, the potential complications and embarrassment meaning that really, there wasn’t much potential for Hugo to have any control over this.

  It was going to be another roller coaster ride, that was for sure.

  In the silence, he trembled.

  He could hear the relentless pounding of his heart. It made him think of Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart, an idea that even raised a half-smile as he considered the protagonist of that story, a man driven mad by hearing a dreadful heart-beat.

  Only unlike Poe’s guilt-ridden narrator, Hugo hadn’t committed murder. His dark, anti-social act had been to allow his wife to invite another man inside her.

  A quiet bang, clatter. Madeleine putting on make-up. For a quick romp with her husband, she would never have troubled herself, but with her new date, even a casual late-night booty-call required a hint of lipstick and mascara. A spritz or two of perfume, and from where he was crouched, Hugo could breathe it in, the scent of seduction—seduction of another. More terrible silence, Hugo breathing deeply, practicing how quietly he could draw in the air, pacing himself to keep calm.

  Then the shrill, agonizing ring of the doorbell. The sound of Madeleine scampering around to answer it, her pace displaying clear enthusiasm, excitement. A girl waiting for Christmas morning to officially begin so she could open her presents.

  “Yeah, he can come up,” she said to the concierge. Nice having a concierge, not something they’d had in Boston. What would he think of such a late-night caller? Perhaps he remembered that both husband and wife were at home this evening.

  More silence, waiting, waiting.

  Then, finally, the rattle of the chain and the lock, and Madeleine’s bright, breezy exclamation: “Hey!”

  A deep voice lost in hers—a man. Connor. No doubt embracing her out there, kissing her. The worst part of the waiting was that last part: waiting for them to come through to the bedroom, not knowing what they were doing, only hearing brief murmuring conversation, because mostly they were too wrapped up in each other, absorbed by their lust.

  Then, at last, they arrived.

  Twenty Two

  Madeleine sprawled over the sheets, looking gorgeous in a casual pair of white cotton panties and a white halter top, expressly worn to give the impression she’d simply been home alone before giving the green light to a late-night booty call. Her quick application of subtle make-up belied the suggestion that she’d made no effort in her appearance for her new lover.

  Then, there was Connor. Removing his jacket to reveal a crisp white shirt. Leaning over the bed, planting a soft kiss on her rear as she lay on her front, feigning sleep as she waited for him.

  It was shocking to Hugo, another man now lying on his bed, lips gently exploring his wife’s exposed behind. He caught a hint of the man’s cologne in the air—expensive, sophisticated yet understated—and it sparked a fresh burst of jealous acidity in his stomach. It was so real—so much more real than watching across a street.

  Terrifying.

  As he watched the man kiss his way slowly up Madeleine’s back, over her thin white top, Hugo felt the underlying fear of discovery blending with the fear of how his wife would enjoy this man’s lovemaking more than his own, of how his wife might no longer want him.

  “So hubby’s out tonight, huh?” Connor said, an
d Madeleine smiled, feeling his hands playing with her underwear, pulling the material from the back, tight against her pussy.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And he knows about this, too?”

  “I texted him.”

  Hugo felt a warm glow bloom inside him at the first true confirmation that Madeleine had definitely told her new lover that she was married, that her husband knew of her straying. It felt intensely reassuring to him, that she was emphasizing to Connor that this could only ever be a little fun.

  He’d got the impression from all that spectating that Connor wasn’t the type to become obsessed with one woman, to want to settle down with her, have her exclusively. But this was powerful confirmation.

  Connor now lay spooned up against Madeleine, who tilted her head to allow him to kiss her neck.

  “He’ll be back later?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I guess we’d better hurry then.”

  “Oh, we’re okay,” she said, turning to kiss his mouth, her arm curling around his head.

  Connor pulled aside her panties, and Hugo had the perfect viewpoint from which to see how wet she was already, even before her new boyfriend was kissing his way back down her body, over the round curve of her rear, his hands gliding up her thighs to nudge up against her tender folds.

  Madeleine had positioned herself well for the benefit of her audience.

  She closed her eyes, biting her lip and arching her back as Connor’s experienced fingers teased her sex, and then were replaced by the soft lips and wet tongue of her new lover. Hugo could hear her labored breathing, like the sound of silk rubbing against silk, so beautiful.

  “So have you been with many guys like me?” Connor said, as Madeleine swiveled under him, to lie on her back and open her thighs for him, so he could have easier access to lick her soaking pussy. “With your husband’s permission, I mean.”

  “You’re the first,” she said, her body rising and falling as her breathing deepened under his attention.

  Hugo felt his erection throb at that, imagining that his wife was hinting at wanting other lovers at some point down the line. There was something to sordid, yet so exhilarating to think of her as being that insatiable.

  “I feel honored,” Connor chuckled. Then he said, “God, I never met anyone like you before, Lainie.”

  Lainie. Was that how she’d introduced herself to him? She’d never shortened her name to anything other than Maddie before, and usually she preferred the full Madeleine. Now she had this rogue persona, this sexy independent self that fucked other men, and it had another name.

  Lainie.

  It was like she had a porn star name. Did she like it? Had she wanted her husband to call her that? It made him feel suddenly excluded.

  “I never met anyone like you before,” she said, uttering a little gasp as he teased out one of her labia with his lips.

  “Seriously?” he chuckled, and gave her a long, slow lick up the length of her pussy, which made her groan. “You did go to college?”

  She laughed, and Hugo looked up to see that she’d slipped down her top to reveal her bare breasts, and those devilishly stiff nipples, which she quietly fondled as the younger man lapped at her pussy.

  “I went to college,” she said. “But I wasn’t really the type—”

  “What type were you?”

  She sighed as he slipped two fingers inside her, teasing her as his mouth touched down beside her clit, nudging her little sensitive button a while before enveloping it.

  “Oh… you know, the library was my best friend…”

  Connor chuckled, and Madeleine seemed to respond with mild surprise to the sensations that ran through her clit as he did.

  “You never slept with anyone at college?”

  “Not many,” she said.

  Sitting in the closet, quietly stroking himself as he watched Madeleine’s hand gently caressing another man’s head as he ate her pussy, Hugo found himself suddenly wanting Connor’s interview to continue. His wife had never before revealed anything about her dating past. She’d told him she was inexperienced before he had come along, but conceding that she wasn’t a virgin when it came time to sleep together was about as far as it had got.

  There were times, usually when she was giving him a killer blow job, that he’d been curious about where she had learned the technique. Who had she practiced on, how many.

  True, when they’d started dating, he really hadn’t wanted to know. But now, he was curious to know how his wife had developed.

  “How old were you the first time?”

  “Why do you want to know?” Madeleine’s tone suddenly took on a slightly startled, awkward note. Like she realized her husband was present, and she suddenly remembered that if she told Connor, she’d be telling Hugo as well.

  “I’m curious. Tell me about your first time.”

  “First time for what?”

  Hugo was at full hardness at the thought that Connor might force it out of her, now. There was something hot about learning saucy secrets about your partner. There was no reason for her not to tell him as far as Connor knew. Unless she wanted to reveal Hugo’s presence to him.

  “Well, let’s go through them. First kiss?”

  “With a boy?”

  “Or a girl, if it was proper kissing.”

  “End of high school.”

  “And?” he said. “Boy or girl?”

  “My friend Lucy.”

  “I’ll bet she was a hottie, too.”

  “We just practiced kissing each other, that’s all.”

  “I also bet that wasn’t all you did, too. First blow job?”

  Hugo saw Madeleine glance down toward him, toward the closet, a moment of fear and apology on her face as she attempted to see through the crack, see if she was angering her husband by this talk of her past.

  He wanted to tell her it was all right, he was curious too. Turned on, even. They hadn’t really developed a signal system for him to do that, though. All he had was texts.

  Madeleine’s phone buzzed briefly on the bedside table. She leaned casually over to reach for it,.

  “Hubby?” Connor asked, equally casual. Not afraid of discovery, since apparently he knew Madeleine had told her husband what she was doing.

  “Yeah.”

  “On his way home?”

  She read the text Hugo had sent:

  > Answer him if you like, honey. It’s hot finding out about your past! You should see how hard you make me.

  She smiled, blushed a little.

  “Yes,” she lied.

  “And he’ll want me gone by the time he gets back?” Connor asked, making Hugo wonder if he’d actually be okay with the whole watching thing after all. “How long have we got?”

  “I don’t know, half an hour?” She said, peering at the closet, trying to see something of her husband’s response to her holding another man’s face firmly clamped against her sex.

  “Plenty of time,” her new lover said. “So you were saying… about your first blow job.”

  She flashed a quizzical look her husband’s direction. Knowing how she herself refused to even think about her husband’s exes, her husband’s sexual past. Looking at him with the last invitation for him to stop her: Really? You really want to hear this?

  “End of high school,” she said. “Also.”

  Connor chuckled. “Not your friend Lucy again?”

  She shook her head, and now sat up, her top falling back into place as she urged Connor up and over, encouraging him to turn onto his back so she could straddle him, stealing another kiss and a taste of herself on his lips as she slipped over his thighs.

  “Ian Johnson,” she said. “It was at a party before we all went away to college.”

  Hugo had no idea who Ian Johnson was, or where he was now, but it provoked a fresh tickle of jealousy and made his hardness throb like crazy to imagine his wife as a sexy high school girl, fumbling with her first experience of a boy’s cock.

  The way
she sat astride Connor, her hands sweeping all over him, wrenching off that shirt, her wide eyes following her fingers all over the toned topography of his torso, made Hugo suddenly think of how she might have been with a first boyfriend. She had that same kind of eager curiosity, as a teenage girl might have with her first love. Stroking his pecs, that ridiculous washboard stomach, checking out the underlying power in his biceps.

  Even when she made love to him, she never really looked at Hugo like this. It made Hugo want to get down to the gym, right now. She was impressed at the man’s physique. It was hardly surprising, and neither was Hugo’s envy. But still, the surprising thing was how good it felt to have given her this opportunity to experience such an athletic lover.

  The look of wonder and joy on her face was the most magnificent thing of all, and it was all the reward Hugo needed.

  Connor moaned as Madeleine kissed her way down his chest, her hands enveloping that exposed shaft of his, which bucked in anticipation of her mouth.

  Hugo felt another little jolt in his chest to see her wedding ring right there on her fingers as they curled around another man’s brutally hard cock. It was a detail he hadn’t really been able to see when watching from across the street. It glinted as she continued to grip the other man’s erect cock, and she seemed so brazen, so confident to be wearing it like that. Yet after the initial anguish, Hugo felt himself warming to the sight of that little band of gold—the symbolism that Madeleine was still his, still committed, and yet so clearly violating their original marriage vows, and that turned him on.

  How erotic it suddenly seemed to him that a woman, such a beautiful and powerful creature, would give up all temptations of the flesh other than her husband, when committing to marriage. And how erotic it could be that a husband would reward her commitment by offering her some of those temptations in celebration of her devotion to him.

  “Ian Johnson. He was your boyfriend?”

  “No,” she said. “We were playing spin the bottle. Somebody—Dave Lutkins, I guess—brought beer, which was kind of disgusting, but nobody cared, everyone was drinking.”

  Hugo felt the air suddenly evacuating from his body. This was all new ground for him, he’d never heard anything about Madeleine’s back catalog. Spin the bottle—he’d never have thought she’d be involved in such a thing.