Watching My Gay Husband Cheat

by Hank Wilder

  This male stripper makes a living with his perfectly chiseled frame, but my husband is also no slouch in that department. Adam might not be in the business of pleasure, but he could easily reach the top of the game if he gave it a try.

  “What are you waiting for?” my husband groans, reaching back and giving his ass a playful slap. “I’m sick of my husband’s cock. I need a new dick.”

  Adam’s words strike through me like a bolt of erotic lightening. It’s a difficult thing to hear, but for some reason it turns me on even more. I know that he’s just playing it up now, living in the moment, but the lustful diatribe is still incredibly effective.

  It’s so effective, in fact, that I suddenly realize I could blown my load at any moment. The feelings swimming within me are so potent that it’s difficult to hold back, but I do my best to maintain some patience. I know the second I cum is the second that all of this changes, and I don’t want the incredible pleasure to end just yet.

  I watch as Kent positions himself behind my husband’s waiting body, aligning his enormous cock with his puckered anal tightness and then pushing forward in one firm, deep swoop.

  Adam lets out a startled yelp as this brand new dick enters him, his fingers digging deep into the blankets as he braces himself against Kent’s powerful thrusts. Clearly, the male stripper’s size is a little more than Adam expected, but the two of them take their time together, starting slowly at first and then gradually gaining speed. Soon enough, I can see my husband beginning to loosen up, any signs of discomfort slipping away and revealing an aching pleasure beneath.

  “Fuck me, fuck me,” Adam begins to murmur to himself, lost in an erotic trance while Kent continues to pound away. He repeats the words in a blissed out mantra, the simple phrase growing louder and louder until, eventually, he’s screaming out at the top of his lungs. The man of my dreams turns to look back over his shoulder at Kent, begging him for more. “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

  From the other room, I can hear the rest of the guys burst out laughing, clearly realizing what’s going on. That doesn’t slow my husband down for a second, though.

  By now, Adam and Kent have found a confident rhythm together, their bodies rocking in perfect unison. They’re hammering away at one another with everything they’ve got, the rapidly escalating pleasure passing back and forth between their frames.

  I watch as my husband reaches back between his legs and begins to frantically beat his dick, a surefire sign that he’s drawing close to the end of his erotic journey. He’s quaking hard, his muscles relaxing and contracting in spastic waves as the inevitable climax looms large.

  “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum!” my husband scream, throwing his head back in a fit of passion. “Harder! Harder!”

  Kent doesn’t let up, and soon enough his mighty slams push Adam over the edge. The next thing I know he is exploding with a powerful orgasm, his entire form quaking hard as the pleasure spills through his body like a tidal wave. My husband is completely lost in the moment, his eyes rolling back into his head for the duration of his orgasm. Spunk erupts hard from the head of his shaft, splattering everywhere.

  Finally, my husband finishes and collapses to the bed below. He’s utterly exhausted, but that doesn’t stop his from turning around and sliding down off of the bed. Now he’s kneeling before his new lover once more, reaching up and cradling the man’s balls while he beats himself off above.

  “Do it,” my husband commands. “Cover my face in your hot fucking load.”

  The stripper only takes a few pumps of his fist across his rod before the cum begins to fly. Soon enough, Kent is reeling, warm, milky jizz blasting forth from his cock in a pearly payload. The spunk splatters down across my husband’s gorgeous grin, covering his with seed as he opens wide and catches as much of the cum as he can.

  Adam manages to collect quite a bit of the load, swallowing hungrily before going back for more.

  I’m ready to blow, as well. With these powerful images of infidelity burning into my gaze, I finally let myself slip over the edge. Suddenly, a wave of orgasm is pulsing through my body, causing me to nearly buckle at the knees as I’m overwhelmed with pleasure.

  Fortunately, I somehow manage to stay upright as the cum blasts forth from my rod and splatters out across the closet carpet below.

  When Kent finally finishes he staggers back, taking a moment to collect himself before gathering his clothes and pulling them back on. “That was amazing,” the stripper gushes.

  “It sure was,” Adam replies with a smile and a wink. “Now get outta here.”

  I can tell by the expression on Kent’s face that he wasn’t expecting such a quick dismissal, but the man’s a professional and he doesn’t take it too hard. Soon enough, he’s heading back out into the living room, closing the door behind him.

  “Okay, you can come out now,” my husband calls.

  I remain in complete silence, my mind completely closed off to the idea that he could possibly be talking to me.

  “Taylor, you can come out now,” my husband continues, waving towards the closet.

  Slowly, I open the door.

  “You really think we didn’t notice you following us around all night?” Adam questions with a mischievous smile.

  “I guess not,” I stammer.

  “Consider this your punishment for not respecting the bachelor party rules,” Adam coos.

  I stand in silence, not quite sure what to do with myself.

  “Unless…” my husband begins, then trails off. “Unless, you kinda liked it? I was expecting you to come out and stop me.”

  I stroll into the room and take a seat next to my husband on the edge of the bed. “I was having too much fun.”

  “Me too,” Adam replies, taking my hand in hers.

  “Maybe I can break the rules tomorrow night, too,” I suggest with a grin.

  LANDSCAPING

  9

  I’ve always found gardens to be a place of incredible peace and tranquility, somewhere to go and rest my mind for a moment as the stress and anxiety of the world drifts away. It doesn’t have to be some huge outdoor landscape that goes on and on forever, it just needs to have a lot of plants and a little bit of shade.

  Despite this particular love that I have, my thumb is anything but green. When it comes to taking care of houseplants I am the absolute worst, any flora recoiling from my presence and giving in to a slow, agonizing death. I’ve tried many times to become the gardener I’d love to be, but it never works out.

  Thankfully, as I’ve grown older and my life has progressed, I’ve eventually found myself in the position of someone who doesn’t need to take care of my own plants. Instead, I’ve hired a gardener of my own.

  Scott is great at his job, but lately, he’s been dropping the ball. Sure, there’s a lot of landscaping duties to cover around the house, but when I’m paying him as well as I do, the man really needs to take his time and tend to the whole yard.

  “Have you seen the rose bush out back?” I ask my husband as he stands in the kitchen, flipping through a magazine.

  “Huh?” is all that Tom can think to say, glancing up from the page before him with a look of deep confusion plastered across his face.

  “Have you seen the rose bush out back?” I repeat.

  My husband shakes his head, now understanding my words but still utterly dumbfounded be what I could possibly be so upset about.

  “It’s dying, Scott isn’t getting around to the back side of the house lately,” I continue.

  Finally, Tom seems to perk up a bit, giving me his full attention.

  “Have you talked to him about it?” my husband asks. “He probably just forgot.”

  “Not yet,” I continue. “I hardly ever see the guy. He comes right after I leave for work.”

  “Do you want me to mention it to him?” Tom continues.

  I shake my head. “No, no. I’ll take care of this. I’ve got a few extra hours before I need to head in this morning anyway. That
’s why I haven’t left yet.”

  Before Tom can respond there’s a loud knocking, then the faint sound of a door opening up in our entryway.

  “Hello?” calls out Scott’s familiar voice.

  “We’re in the kitchen,” I yell back.

  Moments later, Scott arrives in the kitchen with a slightly out-of-sorts look on his face.

  “How’s it going?” I question.

  The gardener nods. “Good, good. I thought you’d be headed for work already.”

  “I’m going in a little late today,” I explain, then start heading towards the back door. “Come with me for a second.”

  From the corner of my eye I can see Scott and my husband exchange a quick and knowing glance, worried almost, which I can’t figure out for the life of me. I consider mentioning it, but instead I tuck my thoughts away, filing it into the back of my mind for later.

  I lead Scott down the back porch and out into the garden, walking along the stone path as we approach the rose bush.

  When we arrive, I stand to the side a bit, motioning towards the enormous plant behind me.

  “What’s going on with this?” I question. “I’m not trying to come down on you right now, but something’s definitely up.”

  Scott nods, unable to deny that this particular piece of flora looks quite ill. The flowers are lilting slightly, their color dull as they hang from the branches around them. Fortunately, it’s not so bad that the roses can’t be saved, but it’s going to take some work.

  “You haven’t been out here watering the back yard, have you?” I question, already knowing the answer.

  Scott shakes his head. “Not every day, no,” the gardener admits, something that I wasn’t quite expecting from him.

  “Why not?” I continue.

  Scott takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “I’ve been packing my schedule way too tight,” the man finally explains. “I keep getting new clients in this neighborhood, going from house to house and working the yards. I try my best to make time for everyone, but sometimes I’ve gotta rush a little to fit everything in. I feel really bad about it, David. I’m gonna fix this.”

  I really appreciate Scott’s honest approach. He’s explaining what the problem is but accepting full responsibility, not trying to come up with any excuses for himself as we figure out a way to move forward.

  It also doesn’t hurt that he’s done a hell of a job out here. The front half of our yard looks lush and incredible. It’s only when you make your way around to the back that things start to fall apart.

  I guess it makes perfect sense when you consider the fact that Scott has been in a rush.

  “So you’re gonna fix it?” I question.

  Scott nods. “I’m gonna have to cancel some of the new clients, but I’m gonna make it work.”

  “I appreciate that,” I tell him with a nod.

  We stand in silence for a brief moment, just staring at one another. It seems like Scott is still waiting for me continue, but I’ve already said my piece.

  “That’s it,” I finally add. “You wanna get started on the back before you head to the front?”

  A powerful wave of relief washes across Scott’s face as I say this. “Thanks,” he gushes. Scott smiles, then turns and heads back towards the old shed for supplies.

  Thankful for the way things turned out, and excited by the fact that our back yard is sure to be renewed and fresh within the week, I head back up towards the house with a spring in my step.

  When I get to the kitchen Tom is still there waiting for me, his eyes full of stress and anxiety.

  “Are you okay?” I question.

  Tom nods. “What happened?”

  I realize suddenly why my husband looks so worried. He’s a kind and empathetic soul, and despite the fact that he doesn’t know Scott all that well, he’s incredibly tense from the fear that I might’ve gotten worked up and fired him.

  “I didn’t fire Scott,” I offer for clarity, hoping this revelation will chill Tom out a bit.

  This does the trick, and soon the man of my dreams begins to mellow.

  “That’s good, that’s good,” my husband replies, turning and glancing out the back window. He watches as Scott begins to haul out some gardening equipment from the shed.

  “Well… I think I’m actually gonna head in and get some stuff taken care of at the office,” I finally tell my husband. “They don’t need me, but there’s still plenty to do.”

  “Alright baby,” my husband replies, turning and approaching me with a sensual sway to his hips. The man of my dreams wraps his arms around me and pulls me close, planting a deep and passionate kiss on my lips.

  We pull back and I take a moment to stare deep into Tom’s eyes, wondering what it is I did to end up with such and incredible, handsome, and loving husband.

  Eventually, I pull away and head for the door.

  “So wait… go back to that last part,” my friend, Rich, blurts.

  “Which part?” I question, not quite sure what has my co-worker so wound up.

  “The part where your husband and this guy gave each other a weird look,” Rich continues.

  “Oh, when I started walking Scott out into the back yard they kinda stared at each other,” I explain. “Because my husband didn’t want me to fire him.”

  Rick leans back in his chair, eyeing me up and down for a moment.

  My friend knows that I have nothing official to do right now as I sit in my office, and he’s taken some time to come over here and shoot the shit. It’s good to see him, but I can’t help but feel like he’s being somewhat condescending.

  About what, I’m not quite sure, but there’s a look the man’s eyes right now that tells me he knows something I don’t.

  “So what happened next?” Rich suddenly blurts. “Are you gonna tell me about how you almost fired your gardener today or what?”

  “Oh yeah,” I stammer, jumping back into my story.

  “So we head into the back yard and he’s really fucking scared. Like… I can just tell that Scott is super nervous,” I continue.

  “Over getting fired?” Rich clarifies. “And that’s it?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him. “Why? Don’t you think it’d be scary for me to fire you?”

  “Technically, you can’t fire me,” my friend reminds me. “We’re different departments. That being said, I don’t think I’d be frightened.”

  “About losing your job?” I retort.

  My friend laughs. “Nobody wants to lose there job, obviously, but this guy probably has plenty of clients,” Rich continues. “If he loses your business then he’ll just go mow twenty other lawns and call it a day.”

  “See, that’s the thing!” I explain. “He tells me that he’s been overbooked, and that’s why he’s not watering the plants in the back yard. He doesn’t have enough time between appointments.”

  Once more, Rich is silent, giving me a tense, narrow-eyed look that I can’t quite interpret just yet.

  “What?” I question.

  My friend just shakes his head.

  “No really. What is it?” I prod.

  Rick shakes his head again. “Nope,” is all that my friend says.

  “What does that even mean?” I question. “What are you thinking?”

  Rick takes a moment to consider what he’s about to say next. This whole time he’s been leaning back on the legs of his chair, but he finally lets it fall forward with a loud thump. There’s a powerful seriousness in Rich’s expression.

  “I don’t want you to take offense to this, because there’s none intended,” begins Rich. “I’m only gonna say this because you’re my friend.”

  “Lay it on me,” I beg.

  “Have you ever considered the idea that your husband is cheating on you with the gardener?” Rich finally questions.

  The second his words hit my ears the whole world seems to slow down around me. I can feel my heart skipping a beat as it hammers hard within my chest.

  Of course,
moments later, my instinctive reaction to deflect kicks in. “Very funny,” I retort. “There’s no way.”

  Rick says nothing, making his opinion known through his silence.

  “But…” I stammer, letting the idea sink in a bit more. “How?”

  “Is it possible they thought you’d found them out?” Rich continues. “That might explain why they both seemed so worried. Why would your husband be so upset about you firing a gardener that he barely knows?”

  I hate to admit it, but he’s right, and the more I think about this newly constructed story in my head, the more it starts to make perfect sense.

  “That’s why he’s never getting around to taking care of the back,” I say aloud to myself, staring off into space now. “He’s not working on other yards…”

  “He’s working on your husband,” Rich continues. “I’m sorry, David.”

  Without another word I stand up from my desk, heading towards the door. “Let everyone know I’m gonna be back late,” I offer over my shoulder.

  “Jesus Christ, don’t kill anyone,” Rich blurts.

  I stop at the door, then turn around to face my friend. “I just… wanna see if you’re right.”

  I head out down the hallway, into my office lobby and then down the elevators into the car garage. The whole time, my heart is still slamming hard within my chest, my mind rolling through the events of this morning over and over again. I’m not quite sure what to make of the strange looks and awkward answers I was getting, but I’d be lying if I said that Rich’s solution didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.

  I get into my car and pull out onto the street, headed for home. It’s only now that I find myself struck by a strange and unfamiliar emotion, one that has been simmering just below the surface of my steadily blossoming rage.

  Strangely, during the last few minutes, my anger has subsided a bit, that first initial shock of discovered eventually dulling down into a low hum at the back of my mind. When it happens, another part of this emotional cocktail is allowed to approach the surface: arousal.