Was that what she was doing?
I looked at my phone, then back at the Nanny-cam. I must have done this thousands of times. When, when would Natalie text me? What were they doing at this moment? Was she even getting anywhere with him?
Maybe they had already done it. Maybe Ethan had been waiting in the kitchen when she got back from her jog, and helped her out of her sweaty clothes right then and there. Maybe he had already unwrapped my sticky, sweaty wife and licked all of the salty sweat from her body before he had plunged his prick into her sopping cunt. Right on the kitchen floor.
I wondered what kind of lover Ethan was. I wondered what kind of woman Natalie would be. Would she really get as dirty as she had hinted at getting? Would she decide that she wanted to make some of her own fantasies come true? And what were they?
On and on, until my stomach was so twisted in knots and my pulse was so high that I felt like I had the flu.
I put the phone away in a drawer repeatedly. I took it out and looked at it, again and again. It took all of my willpower not to text Natalie.
This was, after all, about trusting Natalie. Trusting Natalie to do what she thought was best, and trusting Natalie to tell me what was going on. I had to trust that there was a reason that Natalie wasn't communicating with me: maybe she was busy, maybe she was seducing him right now, and it just wasn't the right time to take out her phone and tell me she was working on it.
But she had to know that she was torturing me.
The minutes ticked by. I managed to get through a few files, but I set them on one side of my desk to be looked over again. I was so distracted I couldn't really trust myself to have done everything ultra-carefully.
The phone finally rumbled on the table. I resisted the urge to paw at it gracelessly like a crazed teenager. I picked it up calmly, my heart racing. It was my private phone, not the one I used for work, so there were very few people who could possibly send me a message other than Natalie, but I didn't want to get my hopes up too high...
[Natalie]: ive talked him into a few beers. went to pool b4 i hink hes really into me
I felt my stomach go cold. That was the perfect way to Ethan's heart, a few beers in the afternoon after prancing around in a bikini at the pool. I could see now that Natalie was really playing the “cool-girl” act. I wondered how she knew just exactly how to press another man's buttons... or maybe it worked on any man, I don't know, but it was still a little disturbing that she was doing it so effortlessly. Having a few beers, laughing and going for ice cream, lounging around in the pool.
I wanted more details about that.
[Me]: Did he go swimming this time?
I imagined Natalie rolling her eyes, as she always did, at my impeccably written text messages. She believed that perfect spelling and grammar in a text made a person seem like a stuck-up asshole (but she conceded that it sort of jived with being a lawyer).
[Natalie]: yep
I had plenty of time to conjure several images in my mind, mostly of the two of them wet and slippery and entangled in the pool, to go through my head before her next text came through.
[Natalie]: we wnt 2 mall 2 get new suits thats why took so long
My heart felt like she had pushed a red-hot poker through it. Had they tried suits on for each other, then? Had Ethan spent the morning oggling my wife and telling her which swimsuit looked best on her? Had he enjoyed watching her tits jiggle in string bikinis that didn't hold her in, and following the curves of her plumped-up cleavage, stuffed into in retro binikis, with his eyes? Had he enjoyed the view of her ass as she slid a finger under the fabric to get the bikini to snap into place just-so on her bottom?
[Me]: So you bought a new suit?
There was a long, delicious pause.
[Natalie]: hang on
An even longer one, as I sat with the phone in my hands, panting like an animal. The silver device shook in my hands, and I stared at it, willing Natalie to write back, to not leave me hanging.
Finally, a photo.
Natalie had, indeed, purchased a new suit. It was a black bikini, and it her figure pushed it out nicely in all the right places. It was just a regular bikini except it had a few loose, criss-crossing black ropes hanging at her hips or between her breasts, giving it a vaguely slutty and BDSM-y appeal. She had snapped a photo of herself in the bathroom, and then typed:
[Natalie]: gotta run now been here a long time txt u when its on
And so all of my questions, like whether Ethan had chosen that suit himself, and whether she was wearing it outside to drink beer, would have to go unanswered for now. I would have to sit there and wonder what the two of them were doing, and what they had done in the pool, until Natalie wrote me.
The phone buzzed again.
[Natalie]: I 4got to mentn things got pretty heated in th pool so looks good tell u all abt it later
I set the phone down. How the hell was I supposed to work now?
I spun in my chair and stared out the window.
I had another wave of – I don't know what to call it. Not panic, just a sort of forceful reality – wash over me. Was I really doing this? Was my wife really doing this?
And once it was done, it wasn't the sort of thing that could ever be taken back.
What was I doing? What were we doing?
I picked up the phone. I think maybe at that moment I actually meant to stop her, or ask her if she really wanted to do this, just one more time, as a way of planting doubt until it blossomed into inaction..
But I didn't type anything, and I didn't call.
The truth was, even though it might very well be a terrible idea, I couldn't actually stop myself from wanting it to happen.
I looked back at the Nanny-cam. The room was still empty, and it still looked as though the image were frozen.
Was I crazy? What would happen after this? How was I going to feel, after I saw what I had wanted to see, and then I came home to my wife and the man who had fucked her? Would we all have dinner together as though nothing had happened?
A shiver went up my spine. I was such a deeply perverted man that the idea of Natalie and Ethan sitting at the table, making eyes at each other every time I turned my back, made my cock come to life with a thud.
Maybe Natalie would play footsie with him under the table, smiling at him wickedly when they thought I wasn't looking.
Except, of course, that Natalie knew that even if I wasn't looking, I knew what she was doing. It was a game to her, and maybe I found her willingness to play it as disturbing as the game itself. Or as delicious.
The minutes ticked by as though they were hours. Then they did turn into hours, and before long it was 2:30.
I had done almost nothing all day, I was starving, but I didn't want to go get food, out of fear of missing something on the Nanny-cam. I wanted to message Natalie, and I thought about doing it several times. In fact, I got part of a message typed out, and then I pictured Natalie in bed with Ethan, her bare body stretched out next to him, her hair disheveled and her ass sticky with his cum, holding the phone up so her could kiss her shoulder and read my desperate messages as he did. Though that level of betrayal seemed like a stretch, I still didn’t send the text.
Finally, just when I thought I couldn't take any more, my phone buzzed.
[Natalie]: noeeww
I squinted. It took me a few moments to realize that she had typed “now.” I yanked my eyes to my computer screen, where nothing was happening.
Oh god. It couldn't be broken, could it?
It seemed like eternities passed by. I was perched on the edge of the chair and holding my phone in one hand. My muscles were starting to ache from the way I was sitting, so tense, so wired, but I didn't feel it at the time.
I was holding my breath, and I only noticed this when at last a shadow moved on the screen, and I exhaled and then gulped in fresh air.
My blood pressure rose to the point that I felt deaf; the air itself was making a tinny, low whine.
She was wearing the black bikini, but over it she had on a bathing suit cover-up that really didn't deserve the name “cover-up” at all: it was little more than a few strings of crocheted rope dangling over her and tantalizing much more than it covered. Her body was still on full display, only now it peeked out between bits of knotted rope that hinted at... well, rope.
And then Ethan. He had on swimming trunks and a white shirt.
They hardly seemed to be in the throes of passion.
I felt like someone had poured cold water all over me. The disappointment sank into my skin.
Natalie went right to the bookshelf where the Nanny-cam was embedded. When she neared the shelf, her torso was right at the level of the camera. I had a nice view of her smooth stomach, the criss-crossing ropes of her cover-up dangling pleasantly over her navel and her elongated oval of a belly-button.
What the fuck was she doing?
Then she backed away. Ethan had plopped down on the couch.
I saw, then, that they each had a beer. They were moving in the loosely floppy way that people who are bit drunk move. Every movement was a little more exaggerated.
Natalie sat down on the couch next to Ethan.
She had something in her hands. Something she was showing him.
I looked at Ethan. He wasn't listening to her at all, as her mouth moved in some long story she seemed to be telling. He wasn't looking at what she was showing him, either. He was looking at her, at her mouth, but not like he wanted to hear what it was saying. At her hair, which his fingers were about to pick up and stroke. At her breasts, that I could tell he was thinking about squeezing.
“Clever girl,” I said, in a low voice.
Clever, because Natalie was making it look like she was getting seduced. She was making it look like that so much that I could almost believe it, even though she had already told me what she was going to do, even though she had just texted me that she knew it was “on.”
For a moment, I stared at my wife and found her almost terrifying. She was playing Ethan like a harp, and making it look like the opposite was happening. And she was doing it so... effortlessly.
I was holding breath again.
I inhaled, and I could hear my own breath inside my head, my ears were so blocked by the blood pumping through my body.
And then he made his move. He dropped his hand, which he had placed over the back of the couch, and let his fingers rest on her shoulder. Natalie's mouth paused, and then she continued speaking. Ethan moved his fingers so that the skimpy cover-up slid from her collarbone. He tugged it down and over her arm, exposing the swath of skin of her left shoulder.
Natalie turned to him. Her face was a mixture of surprise and mild indignation – a perfect expression that almost looked real.
So real that for a moment I felt the rage I might have felt if I was seeing this scene play out and it hadn't been planned.
Natalie moved her head slowly left to right, almost like she was telling him no, she couldn't do this.
What a thrill, watching her, knowing that she was telling Ethan “no” while she had every intention of saying “yes.” How long would she drag it on, letting him think he had to work on her? How hard would he try, if she kept on telling she couldn't possibly, because she was married?
What had happened in the pool, that had led them to here?
Ethan moved closer to Natalie. His mouth came within inches of hers. He was talking now, and I was sorry that our Nanny-cam didn't have audio. I would have loved to hear what he was saying. I also detested that it was black and white, and I couldn't see if his charming words were making Natalie blush or not.
I wondered what she was thinking right now, listening to him. Did she have herself completely under control, and was she reacting to him in carefully measured moves? Or was she letting herself actually get seduced, letting Ethan's charm get her wet, really dipping into the fantasy and imagining that she was actually doing something incredibly naughty right now?
Ethan stopped talking, and the two of them froze, staring at each other. For a moment I again believed that maybe the Nanny-cam was broken, and I would just have to stare at this final frozen frame that was captured just before my wife and Ethan fucked each other silly.
Then I saw Ethan's hand move, sliding along Natalie's collarbone and back to her neck, where he made little circles over the soft indent in her throat. Natalie's eyes dropped, and I saw her ribs expand with a sharp inhale. Ethan's lips began to move again. Whatever he was saying to her, he was saying it slowly, in a whisper, as his mouth moved closer and closer to Natalie's.
And then his lips were on hers.
I watched as Natalie let my buddy kiss her. At first, she was frozen and did nothing – she didn't even respond with her mouth. But then I saw the stiffness in her body melt away. She brought her hand up to Ethan's chest and pushed gently against him, but at the same time her own mouth moved as they kissed even more passionately.
And then it all seemed to happen very quickly. Moving together, they rolled out on the couch, Ethan on top of Natalie. His hands were now sliding along her ribs, under the cover-up, grasping for a handful of her breast.
Natalie had abandoned her act of needing to be convinced – or maybe Ethan's warm, dry lips had actually sent her over the edge, and now she was just giving in to her very real and uncontrollable passion. She clawed at his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. Her hands were moving over his torso, feeling his muscles, grabbing at whatever she could.
Ethan rose up to remove his shirt, and Natalie took advantage of the time to peel her cover-up away from her body and over her head. When she got it up and around her arms, Ethan fell down, putting a hand on the bunched material, trapping her arms above her head in the web of tangled crochet. He was leaning over her now, her legs between his, her arms caught above her head. She squirmed beneath him as he traced a leisurely finger from her mouth to her breasts. He moved his hand with a feathery touch over her chest, sweeping lower and lower until he hit the fabric of the bikini. Then his fingers pulled gently at the material, gave it a tug, and her breasts popped out from under the black fabric. Her hard nipples sprung loose into the air and she squirmed some more.
Natalie turned her head and looked in the direction of the camera. She smiled.
She was smiling for me.
Ethan was at work on her body. He lowered his head and sucked one of her nipples up and into his mouth. Natalie's back arched and her body rose to meet his mouth. Her eyes closed, and the eye contact with me was gone. Her mouth fell open, and then she squeezed her eyes tightly as Ethan sucked her nipple. Maybe he even bit into it gently.
He moved to the other breast, and Natalie writhed under him as he subjected her to the same treatment.
After teasing her like this, he rose up on his knees, releasing her captive hands. Natalie brought her arms down in front of her, trying to pull them out of the cover-up. Ethan slid his swimsuit down, and his cock sprang out, hard and gigantic, pointing straight ahead of him.
I looked at my wife's profile as her eyes lowered to look at Ethan's cock.
Her hands, still tangled in the cover-up, reached for his member, and she held it with both of her hands, stroking the length of his thickness.
As she did this, Ethan reached behind himself, and used one hand to cleverly unbutton Natalie's jeans and slide his hand into her pants. When his jaw dropped a little, I knew that he had dipped his hand into her pussy and found how excited she was. He leaned his crotch forward so that Natalie could have a better grip on his dick, and he could dip his hand into her pussy further.
Now, he could have no doubt that my wife wanted him to fuck her.
He backed away and yanked her jeans and bikini bottom with him. Natalie kicked at the shorts, trying to get them off her feet, but they were still trapped around her ankles. Now she was bound at the wrists and ankles by her cover-up and her jeans, and Ethan was looming over her with his big cock dangling over her body.
He pushed her hands down, onto her stomach and between her legs and his. He crawled up the couch as she scooted down a little – the two of them moving in unison to get his cock right over her mouth.
I watched as my wife opened her mouth and ran her tongue along the underside of Ethan's shaft, from the base where she made a swirl over his dangling balls, all the way to the head. Her hands were still between her legs, squeezed tight by Ethan's thighs. He used one hand to rub his cock over her face, as she lapped at it greedily with her tongue, straining to get more of it. Whatever pretense of reluctant housewife she had been putting on was unraveling quickly; now she was just after his cock with her mouth, hungry to please him.
Ethan used his right hand to guide his cock into her mouth. He leaned forward as his shaft sunk in between her lips, puffing out her cheeks. He rested his hands on the edge of the couch and slowly moved his cock in and out of her mouth. I could see that the first slow thrust of his dick made her gag. He pulled out of her mouth to let her gasp for air, and glob of spittle fell onto her cheek. But she spread her lips wide for him again, and he began to slowly disappear inside of her throat until his balls bulged against her chin.
Ethan slowly face-fucked my very naughty wife like this for a few more excruciating minutes. I stared at the helpless position Natalie let herself remain in: her arms twisted in her cover-up between her legs, her only choice to open up and let Ethan fill her mouth with his cock.
He withdrew from her mouth and pushed her hair from her face, his fat prick just inches from her lips. I could see he was talking to her, and Natalie was lapping at his dick with her tongue. He edged back down to the end of the couch where her feet were, and at this point, Ethan himself disappeared from the view of the Nanny-cam.
Natalie's body slid across the couch – Ethan was pulling her, until all I could see was her upper body. She worked her hands free of her cover-up, and lifted her head to look at what Ethan was doing. Almost as quickly, she dropped back onto the couch and her back arched. Her eyes were closed and she began to toss her head back and forth.
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