My heart went cold again. Next to her, looking fit and athletic as before, was the unmistakable form of Trey. Trey from Brownhouse.
I could see from his body language that he was moving in on her. Talking smooth, getting ready to lean in, maybe place a hand on her arm, slide his fingers along her skin and ignite her with his touch. Then he would move down, brush his fingers over her thigh...
I felt like pinching myself again. After having such a lucid dream, and now having such a dreamlike experience in real-life, I felt I could no longer trust my own mind.
I walked slowly into the room and looked around for an excuse to be there, or a place to tuck myself away. I located a keg and moved toward it.
“Nice costume,” a guy standing next to the keg said dryly. “Need a beer?”
I moved my giant wookiee head in assent. Because I was free to turn my head a little within the confines of the costume, I could appear to be looking at him and still have a pretty great view of Jen and Trey, who were coming closer together, smiling more, getting ready to touch.
I felt the weight of the cup in my hand get denser. “Thanks,” I said gruffly.
“That you, Mac?” the guy said.
I moved my head “no,” and he shrugged, turning to another person who wanted a beer.
There was no way to drink my beer, I realized, so I turned slightly away and pretended to be watching something outside, my eyes straining to the right to see Jen.
Almost as if Trey had read my thoughts, he was moving in. His dark hand went to Jen's, and he made little circles on the back of her hand. He was talking, his eyes on hers. I couldn't hear anything but the loud murmur of a party, the sound of music overbearing and distant at the same time.
His fingers were moving up her arm now. Whatever he was saying, it was making Jen look to the side in mock embarrassment and amusement. No, her look was saying, she could never be such a slut. I watched as my wife played that game of reeling a man in, giving in a little, shaking her head to indicate she shouldn't be so naughty, her body softening with each second as she let him get in closer and closer.
My cock was throbbing painfully now, my heart rate so fast it bordered on being dangerous.
I felt a wave of near-nausea as I watched Jen's playful, dangling legs part, and Trey's body slipped between them. Her striped stockings were on either side of him now, and they were no longer swinging playfully. He stroked her arm with the back of his hand, drawing it along the length of her limb until he reaching her neck. He splayed his fingers out and brushed her hair away tenderly.
Surely Jen could see that I was right there. I willed her to look at me, but she only flushed with the touch of Trey's fingers and tipped her head slightly.
His dark hands kept moving, stroking her skin until he drew them along her throat and lifted her chin.
He was going in.
Jen's eyes fluttered up to meet his and then he lowered his mouth closer and closer. He brushed his fat lips over hers, teasing her just a little, before he swallowed up her mouth in his.
A curtain of red seemed to fall down through my eyes as I watched him kiss her passionately, probing her mouth with his tongue. It was a dominating, engulfing kiss, and it seemed to cross the room to grasp me viscerally, squeezing my heart and my balls in a vice.
I was so caught up in the way he was swallowing her sweet mouth in his that I had barely noticed that his hand had dropped back down to her thigh.
I had turned slowly as I was watching, and clearly I was no longer hiding that I was staring. But again, no one seemed to notice or care. Trey released her mouth, and Jen's closed eyes fluttered open dreamily. He looked from side to side, and then his dark hand moved inward on her thigh, between her skin and his pants, stroking the very top of her inner thigh with his fingers.
Jen's mouth opened in a very poor imitation of scandal, but she did nothing to stop him as his fingers slid further up. I couldn't see, exactly, nor could anyone else, but anyone looking at the scene would have known that his fingers had made their way at least to where Jen's panties, wet with excitement by now, covered her mound.
I saw a smug smile turn Trey's mouth up in a big smile. He said something, a little surprise on his face, and bit into Jen's lower lip. Her body rippled against him and her eyes flashed with naughtiness.
She had no underwear on.
The realization hit me: it was so obvious in the pleased expression on Trey's face. His fingers had probed right up under her skirt, right there in front of the whole crowd, and found nothing to stop him from dipping into her soaked folds.
Surely not. Surely Jen was not being that big of a slut.
He leaned in and began to kiss her again, and Jen's eyes dropped in a pleasured half-lidded purr.
Then, she lifted her eyelids for just a moment, and stared directly at me, as Trey's square jaw worked tirelessly to massage her tongue.
Then the look was gone.
Trey dragged his wet lips over her cheek and up to her left ear, his hand still deep between her legs in a lewd display of indecency that no one else but me seemed to care about, and he whispered into her ear.
The next seconds, or half-second, seemed to move as slowly as anything ever had: Jen's eyes fluttered, she looked briefly at me, then she lowered her eyes again, and her lips parted in pleasure.
And clearly formed the syllables: “Okay.”
Trey wasted no time, He used his free hand to grab her ass and pull her down from the ledge. The hand he had been massaging her with stayed where it was until her feet touched the floor. Her striped skirt rode up, promising but not delivering a view of her bare snatch. Trey used that hand to tug the dress down to an acceptable place on her thighs. And then he turned her around, still holding her to him so he could kiss her lecherously. He gave her another spin and pushed her in front of him, his hands moving all over her body. He kept her pressed against his hard chest, and I knew that his cock was bulging against her lower back.
I didn't dare turn with them. It took all the willpower I had to wait a beat, and watch them in the reflection of the glass window as they made their way through the crowd of partiers toward the hallway.
I set the beer down on the kitchen counter and turned to follow them.
What in the fuck were they doing? Where were they going? I began to panic as I tried to consider the possibilities. How was I going to be able to watch them if they went upstairs to a bedroom? This felt like my dream, but it wasn't. There was no way some lucky circumstance would appear, giving me the opportunity to peek inside (I had a momentary chuckle as I imagined myself running outside, digging around for a ladder).
But the panic started in again as I watched Jen's striped legs disappearing up the stairs, swishing sexily as she climbed. Trey was ahead of her now, leading her away – away from me and away from any possibility of me seeing them together. He had her hand in his, and she was letting him pull her upstairs.
By the time I made it through the people to the base of the stairs, they were no longer at the landing. The stairs cut through the center of the house, and so they could have gone in either direction at the top of the stairs. A girl in a pussy-cat costume, with see-through leggings and no skirt, was huddled on the top stair. She looked at me and smiled rather wickedly.
My heart started to pound. It was a small house, and no one seemed to be upstairs except the people who had business up there. I was totally conspicuous in this costume, which had been fun up to this point but was now a major liability to... well, stealth. But with mounting despair I thought about the upstairs, how it couldn't be more than a few bedrooms, and how I was going to end up standing here at the foot of the stairs, waiting for my wife, missing all of the excitement.
Behind the cat-girl, Jen's stockings suddenly appeared. From where I was, I – or anyone – could see right up her skirt, where a shadow fortunately hid her shaved, probably soaked slit. She looked down at me with a smile on her face. Trey was nuzzling her neck, and his hand was wrapped around h
er bare waist and moving nearer to her breast with each passing second.
Jen held a hand up, palm out, and waved it slowly back and forth. Then they began to walk back down the stairs.
It was a signal for me, but I had no idea what it meant. Jen's legs neared me on the stairs. Trey had released her as she walked don, but she had a hand on his shirt that she was gently tugging.
I stood where I was, again transfixed. Jen stopped in front of me, and slid her hand under Trey's shirt at that moment.
“Chewie,” she said. “Can I get by?”
A beat. No more than half a second, but it seemed like an eternity. My eyes were riveted to Jen's hand running over Trey's muscled torso beneath his shirt. His dark hand on her shoulder. Jen's wicked smile, a little dark, as though the spirit of Halloween had invaded her.
The remark slowly registered with me.
I was Chewie.
I needed to get out of the way.
I felt a gentle pressure on my chest.
Jen's hand.
Pushing me slowly back. The idea of the contact against me and also Trey sent an electric shiver through me. I stared at her hand. She was making lazy, gentle circles on Trey's stomach. Low, grazing his pelvis. Soon she would be dipping into his pants, finding that huge, thick cock, and squeezing it hard.
My own cock pulsed. I moved backward with the gentle pressure that Jen was applying to my chest.
“Yo man, move outta the way,” Trey said, suddenly impatient.
Jen smiled as she passed me. Trey pushed ahead of her, taking her hand. He was moving with the kind of single-mindedness and determination that only a man who is sure he will get laid has. They had a plan, and it involved them leaving the house.
I looked back up the stairs. Wasn't this Trey's house? And why wouldn't they just use a bedroom?
When I looked back, Jen was in the doorway, and dropping onto the porch. They were going.
I held back for a bit, standing on the porch as they chose a direction – left, and started walking in a hurry. Trey's hands were all over my wife, but they were walking with the pace and determination of a couple who had a place to go.
I hopped off the porch. I was grateful that there seemed to be some late-night trick-or-treaters out, and quite a few people on their way to parties. Jen and Trey turned at the street Jen and I had parked on.
Jen was shivering, rubbing her arms and walking quickly. It was cold enough out that our breath was visible. Mine steamed out of my eye holes. Condensation was gathering in wildly uncomfortable places as I chugged along in my awkward costume.
By the time I turned the corner, Jen and Trey had arrived at... our car?
My pulse skyrocketed. The doors were open, and Jen was lowering herself into...
The passenger seat.
I stared as the lights of the car came on. The engine was started, and Trey was behind the wheel of my car. With my wife.
I was walking toward them as though on a mission, my breath loud inside the Chewbacca head, my blood pressure straining the arteries in my neck. The lights of the car suddenly dimmed to parking lights.
And so I had a view, as I approached the car. Trey and my wife were kissing in the front seat, and Trey had his hand dipped into the tight shirt of her costume. I went cold thinking of how his thumb was probably stroking her nipple right now, feeling it pebble under his skin, thinking about how he would bite into it and make her moan.
I kept walking, and I looked into the car as I passed it. Only one image, as though I had simply taken a snapshot and then it burned through me and stained my mind forever: Jen's hand between Trey's legs. Her fingers splayed wide and curved slightly around the thick column that bulged in his pants. Visible even to me, inside my stupid Chewbacca head.
I kept walking, my heart pounding and my thoughts racing.
What was her plan? What were they doing?
Maybe they would fuck in the car. That had to be it.
I searched the yards in my immediate vicinity. There was no place to hide. No good place, where a Chewbacca could stare at a car with a couple banging inside of it without being... incredibly noticeable.
I turned to look back at them at that moment, and the brake lights came on precisely then, as though for me. The back of the car was fogged up from the inside – and not with cold. The car moved slowly away from the curb, as I stared in helpless horror, unable to move.
I watched my own car, with my own wife, drive away from me. Trey, the black, athletic stranger from Lust, at the wheel.
For a few moments I just stood there on the street. All different kinds of panic set in from all sides.
This was fucking ridiculous. This guy just drove off with my fucking wife.
In my car.
This was dangerous as hell.
And I was left alone on the street, my cock throbbing and my heart exploding, in a Chewbacca costume, with no fucking car.
A vibration nagged me out of my trance. A vibration in my pants pocket.
Buried in my stupid costume.
I lifted the head off and let it fall on the street. Then I tore at the costume and peeled away the top half of it. I stared at the screen.
[Jen]: Goifinfg homm se u therr
I imagined what Jen would have to be doing to type this poorly, and shuddered.
But at least she had her phone. At least she had communicated with me. And she was...
Going home.
I stared at the screen some more.
“Fuck?” I said. Really more of a question. Like, “what the fuck?”
The phone vibrated in my hand.
[Jen]: I told him I'm texting u to see when youll be home If we go the long way can u get a cab and hide somewhere befor we get thr?
The feeling of excitement began to win out as I read her words. I didn't necessarily want Trey in my house, but the wisdom of the plan was breaking through to me. It seemed like it was either this or miss out, and I was finally going to have to call it.
And the thing is: there wasn't really any way to absolutely stop it. The wheels were already well in motion. Now it was just a question of whether I wanted to be there or not when Trey defiled my wife.
I started to type.
But then a message from Jen appeared on the screen, as the phone rattled in my hand.
[Jen]: Or better yet, I can take another kind of detour...
There was no question, of course, what that was. I felt my stomach turn again. But I finished typing the message I was already composing.
[Me]: OK Meet you there.
And then, in the cold of the street, I had another thought.
[Me]: not our bed though
There was a long, empty silence around me as waited. No answer from Jen.
I called a cab, and headed up to Grange Road to try to hail one sooner. I was about a block away when I turned around, remembering that I had left my Chewbacca head on the ground.
It was there, staring back at me.
I turned and kept walking. That was the least of my problems, and I didn't have a minute to lose.
*
In the cab I must have looked ill, as I thought about how Jen was going to delay Trey's arrival at our house. Would she be blatant about it, and tell Trey to pull over, then just bend over and suck on his cock right there on a public street? I pictured her hair bobbing up and down while Trey looked down at her luridly, a smile on his face as my wife slurped and gagged on his gigantic cock until he burst inside her mouth.
The cabbie asked me if I was okay.
“Yeah,” I was barely able to say. My cock was so hard it was starting to make me sick to my stomach, and my balls were painful as hell.
Did Jen get my message? Not in our bed. I really meant that, and I would have said something a lot sooner if I had had any inkling that we would end up in this situation.
The cab pulled up to my curb slowly and I threw money at him. “Hurry, hurry,” I said. “Get out of here.”
The cabbie's eyes crinkled in t
he mirror, as though he seemed to know if not what I was doing exactly, what it had to do with. We all have wives, his eyes seemed to say.
I ran around the house and fumbled with my keys to get in through the garage door. This was stay out of sight, but I realized too late how stupid it was. If they opened the garage door, there I would be: Chewbacca home invader.
But that didn't happen.
In the house, in the dark, I spun around, unable to process what I was doing.
My phone buzzed. It was Jen.
I answered the call, opening my mouth to shout: “Hello?” but stopping myself just in time.
What if it was a secret call?
Or what if it was an accidental call?
I listened.
At first I heard nothing. There were vague, unidentifiable sounds coming through the phone. Maybe the sound of a street. Definitely not driving. It was all I could do not to scream into the phone.
Were they kissing? Is that why it was silent?
Fondling each other?
What?
And then I heard Trey's voice. A low rumble, very low. A moan. Then a sharp exhale. “Oh fuck, baby. Just like that.” He was whispering, his voice strained.
And then I heard it: the unmistakable slurp of a wet mouth around a cock.
My wife's wet mouth.
On his big, fat black cock.
More slurping. Sticky sounds, the sounds of his cock inside her mouth as she sucked away on him.
“Fuck, fuck that feels good,” Trey whispered. Then his voice deteriorated into low grunts.
Then nothing but sticky slurping.
Body Of Research: An Experiment In Hotwifing Page 20