by A. S Peavey
“Good. Because I guess what I wanted to do was to make clear what faithful means for us—that we won’t sleep around. Since it isn’t absolutely clear from the vows we took.”
There was no hint in Omar’s body language that he had just escaped a gotcha moment.
Kelsey still believed that Omar had been sincere. Kelsey was just left to wonder what had changed. Had Omar changed? Had Kelsey changed? Had their relationship changed?
Kelsey didn’t have much time for thinking.
When she came to her senses in the aftermath of her orgasm, she was no longer standing. She still leaned against the refrigerator, but her legs had buckled and bent under her. A few magnets had had come crashing down under her; she had to bend to the side to get them out from under her, where they stuck into her flesh.
And the house was quiet.
Kelsey wasn’t sure if she had come first, or if her husband and his floozy had come as or after her orgasm hit. There were a few minutes—maybe just one, or maybe a dozen—that Kelsey couldn’t clearly recall.
She didn’t remember sliding down the refrigerator. Maybe she’d rode down it when her orgasm hit, maybe she’d needed a more comfortable position to finish fucking herself.
And she had been fucking herself. One finger was still half buried inside her; her thumb lay at her clit. Her pants and underwear were halfway to her knees. Her shirt was off one shoulder, allowing her other hand access to her breast—it was a good thing the fabric was stretchy. She had kicked one shoe half off her foot, or maybe it had been forced off as she writhed around on the hard surface.
But the position was no longer comfortable. The kitchen floor was cold against her bare ass. The refrigerator hard against her back, and the magnets dug in harder.
Kelsey shifted, but she wasn’t ready to stand. Even through the discomfort, she still lay in the afterglow.
She still wanted to know what had happened. She wasn’t afraid of her husband’s infidelity, or her sexuality anymore. At least for the moment. She hadn’t heard the lovers orgasms, but she knew they must have been good, they must have been far stronger than her own. And her own had blacked her out.
Kelsey tried to reconstruct the past few minutes. Something…something she’d heard from the bedroom sent her over the edge. If she concentrated, focused on her few memories, she could recall a few words, a gruff ‘yes’—that must have been her husband—and louder moans. Those sent her over the edge—as if another thirty seconds toying with herself wouldn’t have resulted in an orgasm.
Jesus fucking Christ. Was she really trying to remember? She wasn’t that kind of woman. She wasn’t suppose to think about another couple fucking. Except, maybe, in some abstract and unreal fantasy.
Though she had enjoyed herself thinking about exactly that only a few minutes ago.
But did she want to think about her husband fucking another woman? Her husband’s cock, that was hers, and hers alone, in another woman? Thrust into another woman, mixing with her juices, coating his cock until it would be brought into Kelsey’s cunt. Though of course Omar would clean himself before he next slept with Kelsey. And Kelsey hoped to god that strumpet didn’t have any disease, or better yet, that Omar was wearing a condom. But even that other woman’s saliva on him would be too much to bear.
Even thinking about not thinking about her husband’s affair was too dirty for her.
Hell, she had entered the house afraid of telling a doctor the dry facts of her sex life—the idea of saying how often they made love had been scary. But she had just masturbated to the sounds of another couple fucking, listening in to the intimacy of a couple who thought they were alone.
Christ. She hoped they hadn’t heard her orgasm. Was that what quieted them? Was Omar sneaking out now, hoping he hadn’t been caught.
Kelsey should get up and flee too, in case they weren’t leaving. Later on she could reflect and worry whether she needed to fear being caught by her philandering husband and his lover.
She needed to hurry. She needed to continue her day. Her perfectly ordinary day. She had missed her appointment, but maybe the doctor had an open slot. Or…
She just needed somewhere to go, something productive to do.
Kelsey looked down at herself again, taking in her disarranged clothes. They needed ironed. Her shirt had stretched to grant her hand access to her breast. Her top, and her bra, were sweaty. And her underwear—was a sopping mess. She didn’t remember clearly how far she’d gotten before she’d pushed the plain white underwear half a foot down her thighs, but clearly she’d played with herself through the thin cotton. It was soaked.
That would be uncomfortable, but not embarrassing. But then there were her pants. She’d played with herself through them, if for not as long. They were stained. They might dry soon enough, and maybe the stain wouldn’t be noticeable without a close look.
Kelsey felt sure however, in the aftermath of whatever had just happened to her, her crotch would be radiating flaming signals, shouting ‘look at me.’ But, realistically, who would take a second look at someone else’s crotch?
Paranoid as she was, she had to believe that her rational mind knew what it was thinking.
However, Kelsey couldn’t stay calm. Her brain bounced about. When first she calmed down, she realized that, as the stain dried, it would leave the crotch far more wrinkled than the rest of her pants. She feared that would attract attention. When she got control of herself again, she realized that the thoughts of anyone at a fertility clinic would be on sex and sexuality.
She couldn’t risk going to the clinic. That was the last place she would go. But she was scared of going anywhere else, anywhere she might be seen, without first grabbing a change of clothes.
But all Kelsey’s clothes were in the bedroom; there was no way she could sneak in there. Kelsey took a deep breath. Maybe she’d left something in the laundry room. She didn’t leave clean clothes in there, but maybe she could find a clean-ish pair of pants. Or maybe there was a less embarrassing stain—maybe ketchup.
The laundry room was just beyond the kitchen. If she was lucky, she could enter without making any noise. At least she didn’t have to traverse the hallway past her bedroom. Though she didn’t want to dally long enough to change in the laundry room. She might grab clothes and find a public bathroom. Or maybe just a quiet turn off where she could change in the car.
Whatever she did, Kelsey needed to get moving.
Kelsey looked around her. Before she started moving, making a sound that might alert the post coital couple, she wanted to make sure she wouldn’t leaving any clues behind. She returned all the magnets back to the fridge, though not in their proper places.
She doubted Omar would notice on a normal day, and his naked girlfriend would certainly distract him. Kelsey could fix the magnets later.
But her phone had fallen out of her pocket and slid five feet across the floor. She had to bend and stretch to reach it, afraid of the sounds she’d make, when ten minutes before the sound of the phone clattering across the linoleum hadn’t alerted them.
Kelsey reflexively checked the time on her phone. And nearly swore. Her appointment was nearly over. Even if she changed and hurried over, she might just be able to beg the doctor to see her. But, no, she had missed the appointment.
What would she tell her husband?
Kelsey had to stifle a laugh.
But, in truth, she didn’t want to expose what she knew to her husband. Not yet. Eventually she would have to confront him about his activities today—she’d just caught him cheating. Unless he caught her today. But Kelsey wasn’t in a hurry. Her brain and her vagina were locked in competition to figure out what she really wanted from her husband—if anything at all.
Given the time, part of her wanted to find a secluded corner of the house and hide until her husband and his mistress left. But she wouldn’t bet against them rummaging in any random corner of the house. Or fucking in the most out of the way place.
And then there was he
r car. Omar would notice her car when he left. Though Kelsey didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed Omar’s car when she arrived. Maybe Omar’s mistress had driven them both.
Kelsey spent far too much time trying to figure out what to do, not enough doing it.
She should have hurried, just got up and run for the door. Instead, she reached up to adjust her bra until it sat properly—though not perfectly—and maneuvered her shirt to sit firmly—if not properly—on both shoulders. So long as she revealed no more than a little cleavage, there was no reason she couldn’t have run out the door once her pants were back in place.
But she hadn’t even touched her underwear when she heard a squeak from the hallway. She blessed her laziness—she’d promised to oil the bedroom door hinge last weekend.
Unfortunately, that squeak only gave her a few extra seconds. For all Kelsey and Omar loved this place, it was a small house. It was a great first house for a couple and maybe a baby who couldn’t move on her own. It wasn’t suited for anything more.
Kelsey thought she could get to the kitchen door before Omar and his lover emerged from the hallway. She thought she could open the door and close it again quietly. She thought she could get her pants up.
But she doubted she could do all three. Maybe she could accomplish two before Omar’s mistress entered the living room, and gained an easy view of Kelsey, as long as her eyes stayed the path to the main door.
Kelsey definitely couldn’t stay where she was. She was facing the living room. The lovers would have an easy view of her. The kitchen lacked hiding places, but if she scrambled to the other side of the refrigerator, she could hide half her body behind it. Omar’s mistress would only see her if she stared into the kitchen, or looked expecting to find a person.
Kelsey didn’t hike up her pants; she just held them in one hand. She wanted to reach her hiding place before the other woman emerged from the hallway. She didn’t want to move and attract the other woman’s eyes. She didn’t finish dressing herself once she was in place for the same reason.
It was a mistake.
“I’m just getting water,” Omar’s mistress shouted back down the hallway. Kelsey had no question that voice was young and pretty. “I need more H2O so I can sweat more of it out. You should get some.”
The mistress wasn’t leaving.
Kelsey’s eyes fixed on the hallway arch. She froze like a deer in the headlights upon seeing the other woman. If she’d run, she might have had half a chance getting out the side door without being spotted—she could have hiked up her pants as she closed the door behind her. But a moment’s hesitation and all was lost.
Now everything was a risk.
Omar’s mistress walked out into the living room. Sauntered, Kelsey decided, was the right word. Kelsey thought she had sauntered in front of Omar, when she was trying to lure Omar into a relationship, and a time or two even after they were married, though not very often.
But that was nothing next to the hip sway Omar’s mistress demonstrated.
Those shaking hips entranced Kelsey’s eyes. And she didn’t have a good angle. She could only imagine the view Omar saw.
The other woman was everything Kelsey had feared. Younger—though no college girl, at least. More beautiful. Perkier breasts. Skinnier figure. And she knew how to use all those features. The other woman would have known how to use a dumpy body to her advantage; men wouldn’t have cared if she was flat chested. The way she moved herself said she could wrap her cunt around a cock and make it orgasm as fast or as slowly as she wanted, timed to the second. Her smile encouraged a man to imagine her in bed, maybe with those lips around his cock, or just as satisfyingly, that smile inches from his face as their hips ground together.
And with that body, there was nothing she couldn’t incite a man to do. Kelsey imagined her seducing Omar, Omar defenseless against her. Though Kelsey wouldn’t absolve him of his guilt.
And yet Kelsey’s hand headed back around inside her thigh at the sight of this other women. The need to play with herself was renewed, before her brain realized that she was about to be caught—if caught was really the right word, since she wasn’t the guilty party.
Yes, it would normally be embarrassing to be the one caught fucking someone else’s husband. Normally the man or woman discovering their spouse’s infidelity had no reason to be embarrassed. But nothing going through Kelsey’s head today made sense whatsoever.
The mistress’s head began to swivel. Kelsey steeled herself. This was it. Kelsey would be caught. But the head kept turning. Omar’s mistress looked over her shoulder, checking out the effect her saunter had on her lover.
She was obviously pleased, her smile widened. She paused, leaned forward and threw her ass back towards Omar. He must have picked up his pace, because she skipped forward, keeping out of reach. And fully into Kelsey’s view.
“Not yet,” his mistress said. She turned towards the kitchen.
Kelsey’s luck wouldn’t hold out much longer. For a second the mistress was looking directly at Kelsey. Kelsey had been spotted. Now she just had to wait for the naked woman’s reaction. For all Kelsey had imagined the pair of them fucking, she couldn’t force her brain to imagine what the mistress would do next.
The other woman swung around the rest of the way, back towards the hallway. Kelsey was certain she’d been caught. That the mistress was about to run to Omar, for protection, or to be pissed at him, or something. But she walked slow, with an excited bounce in her step, reflected in her breasts.
Again Kelsey was granted a reprieve.
“Fuck, you know what my throat needs? I’ll give you a hint. It’s not water.” She knelt down on the carpet at the edge of the hallway, her knees just out of sight, her body half hidden behind the wall. “Your cum in my throat. Bring your cock the rest of the way here.”
Kelsey hadn’t been caught. She hadn’t been seen.
For a moment Kelsey thanked Omar’s mistress for being so horny, though that was immediately followed by thoughts of damnation to be brought down on the woman for the same cause, for tempting Omar, for being so horny for him.
And for being so damned good in bed—and clearly wherever she happened to be when she got the urge to fuck Kelsey’s husband. Clearly their escapades weren’t just limited to the bed, even if that was where Kelsey first found them.
Though Kelsey wondered if they had been in bed before. They might have been on the floor when they’d fucked, or leaning against the wall. Except Kelsey had heard the bed shaking.
Maybe they’d used the bed, but they hadn’t been in bed. Maybe they’d been standing, feet on the floor, body on the bed.
But Kelsey didn’t spend much time thinking about that. The present was all absorbing. Looking at Omar’s mistress, there was no room in Kelsey’s brain for the past. She considered the lessons she could learn, the techniques Omar’s mistress might teach her. But that wasn’t why she was watching. She was watching because the only thing that beat watching sex was having sex—though only if the sex being had wasn’t significantly inferior.
The mistress pulled back, took a deep breath, though Kelsey could see the other woman’s arms moving, stroking Omar’s cock so the sensation wouldn’t let up while her mouth took a break.
“What? You thought I was going to make you walk all the way to the kitchen, with that stiff cock bouncing between your legs?”
Kelsey’s hand found her vagina again, flicking across her clit. She didn’t know the last time she’d had two orgasms in less than an hour. Probably when she was first dating Omar. Hell, at best Kelsey had experienced two orgasms on the same day sometime in the current calendar year.
Not that she ever complained. And she doubted Omar would complain either.
Though obviously he wanted more.
Well, she could make that happen. She didn’t have to get up after ten minutes of cuddling the next time they fucked. She could make him hard again.
Kelsey’s hand moved faster. She wanted to have that second orga
sm in an hour.
But it couldn’t be right now. Fuck, she wanted to stay and watch. She was mesmerized by this slut gobbling down her husband’s cock. She was mesmerized by her head bobbing back and forth, and by the occasional groans coming from Omar.
But she had to go. She’d been granted a reprieve. She hadn’t been found. But if she so much as moaned now, the fucking couple would notice her. And if she wasn’t out of the house before they were done, then they would find her in the kitchen.
Kelsey stood slowly, careful not to draw attention to the kitchen, stopping when it looked like the mistress’ peripheral vision would sense her movement. But she was never caught.
She had to struggle to raise her pants without being noticed, though now that she was standing all—or almost all—of her was hidden behind the refrigerator—she couldn’t see what was going on. She patted her pockets, made sure her phone was still in her pants and made for the side door, hoping to stay quiet and avoid attention. She hoped they would be too caught up in their own fucking to notice her.
Certainly Omar and his mistress had been too enamored of their fucking to notice when Kelsey entered the house. She hadn’t been quiet. Kelsey had done everything to announce her presence short of calling out Omar’s name, as she would when she came home in the evening, wondering if she’d arrived home before him, wanting a welcome home kiss. The sound of the door must have penetrated into the bedroom. Her rustling around, seeking her journal, had been no quieter.
But no sound from a few rooms away could have penetrated their passion—and their own noise. She hoped their noise and distraction would shield her escape as well.
Just as she closed the door, Kelsey consciously noticed her fertility notebook. It had been there all along, on the kitchen counter. Her brain hadn’t processed it. But she couldn’t leave it be, lest her husband realize that she hadn’t taken it to the fertility clinic. (Unless, of course, he’d noticed it when he’d brought in the strumpet. But probably not).
Kelsey’s instinct was to dart back in, hurrying before the door could close on its own. She forced herself to be slow, eyes on the prize, not on the fucking couple. She couldn’t let her vagina distract her again.