“Fucking hell,” mouths Gregory, a hand over the front of his own pants.
“Seriously Arthur? Here?” Rochella says. I should be screaming the same thing. Why aren’t I reacting? Demanding a stop to this? But how could I stop them? Even if I wanted to.
Kelsey’s head and shoulders are back on the dining table. Her statuesque bare legs and her feet spread wide across the table for the old man.
Oh Kelsey. My whole body shakes.
Arthur’s bare-ass and the back of his skinny legs face me. Without so much as a glance to any of us he lunges forward mounting my wife.
She groans. Her head rolls on the dining table, eyes screwed closed. No pretence at even trying to salvage some dignity. Hungrily, famished my wife gives herself up to the landlord.
His bare buttocks tense and release as he plows the woman I love - 40 years his junior. His enormous hands struggling to maul Kelsey’s slippery, basted breasts.
“It’s not easy to get a grip on you young lady!” he gasps. Kelsey’s laughing with him. The two of them behaving for a moment like no-one else is in the room.
“Hold on to the side of the table. Stop yourself sliding around,” he tells my wife. She obeys, her knuckles whitening as she takes his pounding.
“Go on; fuck it Arthur,” Gregory mumbles, his hand openly stroking the front of his pants.
Rochella has taken to her feet and drags her chair close to Kelsey’s head. She’s stroking my wife’s forehead, gently pushing her hair out of her eyes as Arthur pounds her.
I collapse onto the sofa staring wide-eyed at the scene across the room. I think I’m going insane.
“Don’t be too rough with her Arthur,” Rochella says above the sound of their flesh slapping together “remember, she’s a lot younger than you.”
“Nnng, nnng, nnng, nnng” Arthur thumps his old body into and up my writhing wife in front of the room. The dining table screeches on the tiled floor.
Laurence is looking at me, incredulous. Arthur’s chanted grunts continue. Kelsey is wailing now, their bodies clap and slide against each other, the light reflecting crazily off Kelsey’s greased flesh.
Kelsey’s basted legs have risen, hugging Arthur’s strong back, locking him in place inside her. Her bare ankles dig into his shoulder blades. He rams his hips forwards launching and re-launching himself over and over deep up my wife.
“Dear God,” Laurence’s mouth hangs open as he stares again at me. “How do you even start to deal with this?” I’m incapable even of blushing. I’m frozen to the spot. Disbelieving the level of my own humiliation.
A wail from Kelsey shocks me and almost her whole body is raised up now off the dining table clinging to the old man.
She’s cumming! She’s cumming in front of all these people! She couldn’t give a shit!
Laurence has slumped next to me on the sofa and stares wide-eyed first at me then the scene on the dining and back again. It’s only now I realize I have my cock in my hand.
Kelsey’s calling Arthur’s name, her arms around his thick neck as he drives himself into her, the table scraping again on the flooring. Her body freezes like she’s having a seizure. Is she cumming - again? She’s sobbing, sobbing as his thrusts slow.
I’m cumming! I feel my balls tighten and spasm as my wife and I almost simultaneously climax.
“I want to really feel this....” across the room Arthur is smiling down into my wife’s face. His pale buttock muscles tighten. His head sinks into my wife’s shoulder and his shoulders hunch. With a roar he slumps against her, gasping for breath.
Arthur is off my wife almost immediately. He calls for someone to toss him Kelsey’s towel so that he can start to get some oil off himself. Then he’s tugging his shorts and pants halfway up and mumbling about taking a shower.
Kelsey lies still slowly writhing in her own grease on the dining table, her orgasms still subsiding.
I’m not even sure how to feel anything, let alone know what I ought to be feeling. As Laurence looks on in disgust I’m wiping my seeping cock with the end of a tissue.
“My turn; this is the only part of her not covered in oil,“ Gregory is pulling at my wife’s hair, sliding and directing her down off the dining table.
“I don’t fancy buttered bun,” Gregory grunts and tells Kelsey to get onto the floor on her knees. Arthur’s cum is running down the inside of one of her quivering legs. She’s still breathing deeply, her breasts shimmering under the light, rising and falling heavily from the pounding our landlord gave her.
Gregory drops his pants to his ankles. He’s cupping his swollen balls, framed by unkempt gray hair in one hand below his pot belly. His stubby erection dances in my wife’s face.
With one hand between her own legs and her oily bottom resting on the backs of her ankles Kelsey snakes her free hand around this fat old man’s shaft. She closes her eyes.
She looks like a common whore. My beautiful wife.
“Wow...” Laurence is muttering beside me.
Rochella is crouching down beside Kelsey, holding some loose hair back out of my wife’s eyes for her, mumbling what sounds like encouragement as Kelsey sucks noisily from Gregory’s stump.
Arthur is back now, his hair looking damp and he slumps in an armchair. He winks at Laurence.
Gregory is groaning, gripping my wife’s head, violently yanking her towards his groin like he’s beating himself with her.
Rochella moves back out of the way and up onto her feet.
Kelsey’s oil-smeared tits bounce obscenely as she’s shoved back and forth with this old man’s cock skewering her mouth.
He grunts and his whole body appears to strain. Kelsey half-gags but Gregory holds her head firmly in place. His shoulder slump forwards as he unloads himself into my wife’s mouth.
My cock is hard again in my pants.
Disengaged from my wife now, Gregory stumbles from the room muttering something about wanting to tidy up. Kelsey lies slumped on the floor, breathing heavily. A trickle of the old man’s semen seeps from the corner of her gaping mouth and dribbles down her chin.
She swallowed. She’s never swallowed me!
“Come,” Arthur smiles at me with something that resembles pity “Lets you and I retire outside and let your wife make herself decent before you both return home.”
It’s a wonder I can still walk as Arthur guides me out onto the terrace with a heavy arm around my shoulder.
“These may be the last few minutes of daylight Nicholas” he gestures out across the park into the darkening sky.
What he’s saying to me is a blur. But there’s something about the ‘substantial bonus’ Kelsey has just ‘earned”. Something about how some of his closest friends have just had ‘an evening they will never forget’. I think he tells me I ‘needn’t worry’ about the other couple interested in our apartment.’ Something else about ‘reaching agreement’ on the monthly rent.
I’m given a bundle of cash which I know my hands wouldn’t be steady enough to count even if I tried and then Arthur leads me back inside.
Laurence has his jacket on and is saying his goodbyes. He can’t seem to bring himself to look at me. Has he still got my part of my wife’s bikini?
I ask Gregory where my wife is. This smirking man who’s cum is in my wife’s throat.
He takes a slug of his whiskey and tells me he thinks she’s in one of the bedrooms getting cleaned up and changed.
“She may be in the ensuite in my bedroom” Arthur points down the hallway, “feel free: second on the left”
I don’t reach the second room on the left. I hear my wife’s voice coming from inside the first room. I push open the door.
At first, shell-shocked as I already am, I can’t fully process what’s in front of me. But then I focus and it becomes clear. The back of Rochella’s blouse and head, her fat ass in her skirt as she kneels on the floor at the foot of a single bed. My wife on the bed on her belly. Bare and on a bath-towel. Legs spread and Rochella lapping noisily at
her ass.
Occasionally the older woman breaks away, gulps air and tells my wife how ‘beautiful’ she is, or how she’s a ‘like a Princess’.
Kelsey is sobbing, but not in a sad way. It sounds more like an ecstatic, almost ‘other-worldly’ noise. Like she’s in some parallel dimension with the other woman.
“Kelsey” a voice, my voice, murmurs. Rochella looks over her shoulder, wipes her mouth and gestures for me to leave them alone.
In a daze I’m obeying, collecting my jacket and house keys and saying goodbyes of my own.
Chapter Twelve
It’s funny how you’re never really what you could call ‘worry-free’ for very long in life. You overcome one set of concerns but then somehow another always seems to take their place.
Any sense of fear about the apartment being let to that other couple; or in fact to any other couple has gone now. Kelsey and I don’t even need to concern ourselves with a possible increase in our rent. Not as long as Arthur gets what he wants that is.
So the new worries – for me at least, concern my wife and the effect her new relationship with Arthur may be having on her and on us.
This time the landlord has made it perfectly clear to us. In fact we have a wide-reaching ‘contract’ of sorts. It’s a contract that covers our new circumstances.
Arthur has been happy to actually reduce our rent rather than increase it. On condition that he gets to regularly ‘see’ my wife when he wants to. Kelsey, for her part, seems content with this arrangement because as she says, ‘we need to keep the landlord happy’.
She used to only be gone a couple of hours when she went to him. Then it grew to her staying up there in his bed until the early hours. Now she stays the night every Friday and I breakfast alone on Saturday mornings.
For the first few times after she started going regularly to him I would lay in bed listening to her being had by him in the room directly above. I’m not too ashamed to say that more often than not I’d jack myself to sleep to the sounds of our landlord ravishing my wife.
But familiarity does seem to breed contempt. Over the months since her weekly visits started, I’ve grown tired of being woken in the night by the sound of them having sex. It always seems to go on for so long.
These days, when she’s up there with him I tend not to sleep in our bed. I’ve bought a small camp bed and either sleep on that in my office in the back bedroom or sometimes I just crash on the sofa.
I know some people would think I’m crazy to put up with this. In some ways I think it myself. But then I’ll watch her carefully selecting her lingerie for him or applying her make-up and perfume before she goes to him and the excitement almost blows my head open.
And then there’s sight of her when she staggers back from him and takes to her bed all afternoon Saturdays to sleep it off.
She’s started going regularly to pose for Rochella too. She doesn’t talk much about that but I guess as long as my client is happy as well...
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