Human Interest: A Lead-In To Wife Watching

by Arnica Butler

  Isn't that what they were supposed to do in a marriage? Talk about things? Wouldn't it be the most honest thing to do just that?

  She pictured herself opening the door, and admitting the whole truth to Josh.

  But what was the whole truth?

  “Honey?” Josh sighed. “Please open the door.”

  She drummed her fingers on her arms.

  She reached from the toilet to the door, an easy feat in their small bathroom, and pulled on the handle to unlock it. She had time to get her hands back on her arms before Josh entered the bathroom. She wanted to let him know she was still mad.

  But was she mad? Was he mad? She felt like she was acting out an empty shell of anger. Like she was doing and saying things because she felt she “should,” not necessarily because she really felt them.

  They stared at each other.

  “Okay -” they both said, at exactly the same time. It made them laugh.

  Rachel felt her anger breaking apart. She really loved Josh, and a moment like this reminded her of the feeling.

  “You first,” Josh said.

  Rachel felt her nose scrunching up. She hated that it almost seemed out of her control. She didn't want to always use what she knew to be “cute” to get her way, but she also knew that she did, in fact, make use of it. Subconsciously or not, she knew that her nose-wrinkling softened Josh up.

  Josh, and a lot of other men.

  “Okay,” she exhaled. “I'm sorry, too. I guess I just got offended because...it seemed like you were accusing me of something...”

  As she was talking, she felt tears well up in her eyes. Uncontrollably. It was only at that moment that she realized how hypocritical she was being. Something had, after all, happened with Xavier. She had let him get close to her, let him think that he could get closer...and she liked it.

  She looked at Josh and tried to blink away her tears.

  “Okay. Okay, look. I have to tell you something. I didn't...it isn't like what you're thinking, nothing has ever been going on between me and Xavier, not before...” her voice ended in a shaky inhale and she found herself unable to keep talking.

  Josh was still.

  “What happened?” he said. His voice was only a whisper.

  Rachel looked at the wall. On it was a painting they had bought at the beach in Mexico on their honeymoon. It was blurry and clear, streaked by her tears. The feeling of their honeymoon, and what they had shared, swelled up inside of her and she realized she couldn't tell him the whole truth.

  Even if there was nothing there.

  Her head was spinning. Maybe she should tell him the truth...after all, nothing had happened. She hadn't kissed Xavier.

  She had just let him stand really, really close to her.

  She had just masturbated in the bathroom thinking of him.

  But that was all. That was all still technically not over the line, right?

  Josh was waiting for her answer, and she knew the longer she waited to answer him, the less like the truth her answer would be, even if she spat out the entire truth. She needed to say something, quick.

  Maybe she could tell half of the truth.

  She started talking, just to get something out.

  “I...look, the conversation came up...because...I don't know. I spend a lot of time with Xavier. You know. We sit around in the car together and...he was just being sympathetic, I don't even know how it came up. I felt bad still, I was just saying I felt bad because this stuff on the internet is...you know, it affects his wife. I said something about that...one thing led to another...I don't know.”

  Josh put his hands in his pockets. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

  She knew Josh was unlikely to have forgotten that she had, only minutes ago, told him she had something to tell him.

  So she was confused when, instead of returning to the topic, he tipped his head to level and said: “I'm sorry. I...the whole conversation was out of line.”

  Rachel stared at him.

  She wasn't sure how to react. Her body was still ready for a fight, or at least an argument. Outrage and guilt, in equal parts, were coursing through her. She wasn't ready to just say, “okay,” and end the conversation.

  She closed her eyes. This happened all the time, didn't it? She had heard on a radio show that women have a lingering physical reaction to fights. They stay physically angry longer, which is why they keep fighting long after the argument is resolved. Bringing up things that happened years ago. Trying to explain to their mind why their body was still mad.

  She had found this insightful, but not very practical to know. She couldn't calm herself down so easily.

  Still, it would be best if this argument ended.

  She had no idea if she was mad at Josh, or herself, or even, in a way, Xavier.

  She had no idea what her feelings were.

  Thoughts about Xavier intruded at that moment, and the whole scene at the station played out in her mind again, this time ending differently. This time with Xavier's lips pressed against hers. She felt the hardness of his cock against her thigh again.

  Suddenly her blood was racing.

  She opened her eyes. “Let's just have sex, and forget about it.”

  Josh's eyes opened in surprise. But when she looked down at his pants, she saw he was more than interested. A vague concern floated through her head: why was he so turned on at this particular moment? But it disappeared just as quickly.

  She reached out, and grabbed him by the belt, pulling him to her. She unbuckled him, and pulled down his pants and boxers. She was pleased when he sprang from his pants, hard as a rock, the tip of his cock wet with precum.

  Again, her mind chose to consider why this was. It was so unusual for him.

  But just as quickly as before, this intrusive thought was pushed out by flashbacks of Xavier.

  It was so wrong, she thought, to be thinking this kind of thing while she was with her husband.

  She grasped Josh's cock in her hand, squeezing him tightly and pulling on his shaft to milk more precum from his cock. She looked up at him, and saw that he was surprised. His mouth was open, though, with disbelieving arousal.

  She slid down to the bathroom floor, and smiled at his disbelief.

  She didn't often go down on him. Not anymore, anyway. But now, it seemed kind of fun. She made a wet circle around the ribbed edge of his glans, and delighted in how a shudder rippled through him. She trailed her tongue through the groove in his head, right to the bitter, wet center, where his precum pearled at the tip of her tongue.

  She did this again, but this time with her eyes closed.

  Guilt poured into her bloodstream when she realized that as she was licking the long, hard length of her husband's cock, she was thinking of someone else. Imagining, in vivid detail, what Xavier's cock would feel like under her tongue. How it would bump in different places, taste like something else, and be heavier and thicker in her hand.

  But the guilt did an odd thing as it coursed through her: it only enticed her more. It was so wrong to be thinking of another man, but it also wasn't really wrong.

  She wasn't, after all, really doing anything.

  She could feel herself getting wet, though, not because she was sucking on cock but because she was imagining sucking a different cock than her husband's. Just like before, when they had come home from dinner at Tyra and Xavier's, she could feel an urgency unlike any she had felt before. She wanted to have her throat filled with cock, feel the cum as it filled the base of his cock, then taste it as he burst inside of her.

  And her mind wanted to imagine this was all for someone else.

  She lowered her head and placed her lips on his balls. She sucked the loose skin into her mouth, and nibbled very lightly at it. Josh sucked in his breath. She made a circle around the base of his shaft, twisting her neck to do so and then dragging her tongue along the length of it to the tip again. She massaged his cock with her hand.

  She opened her mouth and guided Josh's cock t
o her, to her throat, opening up for him. Josh's surprise was gone, and he was looking down at her as she bobbed her head over his knob. She took him as deeply as she could, enjoying the sensation at the back of her throat. She closed her eyes as his body stiffened, and she could feel his ejaculation winding up like a spring inside of him. He placed his hand on the back of her head, and she felt another surge of guilty pleasure. He never did this, it was more like something she imagined Xavier doing. Taking control of her, pushing her further down his shaft, filling her up.

  The pleasure was so dirty, the guilt such a rush, that she was sure she needed no more than to rub her clit quickly a few times to come.

  But should she feel guilty? It was only she who knew that she was so turned on because, in some dark corner of her mind, she was letting herself believe that she was practicing.

  Practicing for Xavier.

  She readied herself for his load, ready to swallow again, for only the second time in their marriage.

  But Josh suddenly withdrew from her throat, and lifted her by the hair. He spun her around with uncharacteristic force. It only turned her on more, only let her believe her own fantasies more readily. This is surely how Xavier would fuck.

  Josh pushed her against the wall, over the toilet, and shoved her skirt up and over her hips. He jerked on her panties, winding them around his fist. The material cut into her slash, rubbing against her engorged clit. She gasped, as much from discomfort as pleasure, and he pulled on them again. He used her underwear to position her body, lifting her until she was on her tiptoes.

  She felt the tip of his shaft against her, slipping around in the folds of her skin. She was drenched. The head of his cock slid from side to side, and then finally found its mark. Josh thrust himself deep into her, and pulled on her underwear to slam her against his pelvis.

  Both of them seemed to be overcome by something. Josh hammered himself into her in five hard, almost demonic thrusts. She came somewhere in the middle of this, and her hands slipped from the wall and onto the back of the toilet. The lid ground on the porcelain and her head slapped against the wall as Josh finished himself off, almost violently.

  She felt his cum bursting inside of her, and he jerked her body toward him for his final thrusts. Holding her against his body with his hand on her throat.

  They were both soaked through their clothing with sweat. They stood, panting. Josh's cock was still inside of her, still hard. The mingled cum was running down her legs. She closed her eyes, indulging for one final moment in her very bad fantasy, which, even though she had come, had not faded from her mind.

  Then she looked in the mirror. She saw herself, hair stuck to her face with sweat, clothes in disarray.

  The reality was, she was a good wife. She had done all of this with her husband.

  The image of the two of them, though, disturbed her. Herself, because she knew what she was thinking.

  And Josh, because his eyes were distant.

  The two of them were not entirely in the room together.

  They disentangled, awkwardly, and Rachel slid her underwear down. “That was a new...trick,” she said.

  Josh looked confused for a second, his mind obviously miles away.

  Rachel took of her dress. “I guess I'll take a shower now,” she said.

  Josh met her mouth with a deep kiss after she lifted her dress from her body. “That was fun,” he said.

  She smiled, and agreed.

  But in the shower, with her eyes closed, she could not help thinking: what was it on Josh's mind while they had sex that night?

  Was he, like her, thinking of someone else?

  And how could she be angry about it, when she had taken his cock into her mouth, thinking about another man?

  She turned the water on scalding hot and tried to push the thoughts out of her mind. Did it matter? Everyone was free to think whatever they wanted.

  It was only a problem if someone acted on it.

  Right?

  She wondered how in the hell Tyra and Xavier made a thing like this work.

  15: THE AUCTION

  Josh wiped his eyes with two hands, trying to brush away the grogginess he felt. After a long night of not sleeping, turning dark and beautiful and ugly thoughts over and over in his mind, he had fallen asleep at 5am. Rachel had shaken him awake at seven, asking him if he had forgotten all about the all-day fund-raising event for breast cancer.

  “Of course not,” he had answered.

  But he had, of course.

  Now he was seated on an uncomfortable, convention-type type seat, nearly three hours into the event, with many more, apparently to go. He vaguely remembered being dragged to the same event the year before, and that it was long, alcohol-free, and long.

  So far, there seemed to be little reason for Rachel to be here. But Josh was doing his best to prop up his face into a supportive and enthusiastic expression. After all of the weird thoughts that had gone on in his head lately, and all of the weird interactions with his wife, he had decided to be on his best behavior where at all possible.

  “Oh god,” Rachel's face fell suddenly. “Oh god. Oh god, I totally forgot about this.”

  Josh turned to his wife, whose face was getting paler with each passing second. She turned to him helplessly. “Oh no.” She started shaking her head.

  Josh cocked his head. He felt awake for the first time in hours. Something interesting was finally happening. “What's up?”

  He felt concerned, but the way Rachel was acting also sent delicious excitement flooding through him. She was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable in that way that she got when she looked at her fanclub sites, or tried to talk about Xavier.

  Josh didn't want to be a jerk, but he couldn't help it: he felt a snake of arousal inside of him.

  Rachel twisted uncomfortably in her chair and leaned forward. As she did, her blouse hung low and gave Josh a nice view of the crescent of lace against her pale skin. He quickly drew his eyes up to her face. She was looking at the podium, anyway, and not him, so he stole another glance at the swells of her breasts.

  “I am going to be auctioned,” she said.

  It took a few moments for the words to assemble themselves in Josh's mind.

  And then, he felt them boil underneath his skin.

  Of course it became evident, very quickly, what it was that Rachel meant by this: the announcer explained it all into the microphone as Josh's mind went in downward-spiraling, dirtier and dirtier circles. KRTV's favorite people had contributed their skills or talents, or sometimes just the chance to meet them, for the auction.

  It was all for charity.

  It was all very clean fun. Cooking lessons from Eleanor Steele. Dancing with Bernard Michaels.

  Josh felt excitement building up in his chest, until the pressure was almost intolerable.

  I'm going to be auctioned. He knew his wife meant something quite different than what he couldn't stop himself from thinking about, but it didn't stop his mind from going to filthy places.

  And what was his wife auctioning?

  He knew what he wanted his wife to be auctioning. His mind was well ahead of his conscious thoughts, producing images of Rachel in her black lingerie on the stage, her hands on her hips provocatively, giving the audience a twirl and a wink. How delicious would it be to watch other men bid on his wife's body, hoping to “lick her ice cream” or get her to “pet their snake?”

  Imaginary-auction Rachel continued to spin on the stage in his mind, losing scraps of her lingerie until only a thin rope of lace was slung over her hips.

  Meanwhile, real Rachel was talking to him.

  What was she saying?

  He tried to force himself to listen to his actual wife, while in his mind the announcer auctioned his wife: “I have one hundred for a blowjob from the lovely Rachel Elliot...do I hear two?”

  He snapped back to reality.

  “...like a month ago, and this was all before all that stuff on the internet...” Real Rachel was looking around
desperately. She was talking to Josh but she was distracted. She didn't care if he was listening, which was good, because his attention was divided between what she was saying and his terrible fantasies.

  She caught someone's eye in the audience, and raised her hand, then scurried over to him without saying anything to Josh.

  Josh tried to bring himself back to reality.

  But the auction in his mind was getting wilder and wilder: “I hear one thousand for a piece of Rachel Elliot's ass...”

  He blinked.

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  His cock was hard again, and so he would have to stay glued to the table. He knew he should have been listening to Rachel, and offered some support. He looked around the room, trying to find where she had disappeared to.

  As he did, he noted that the eyes of many, many men were on her, and was it just him, or did they seem to be undressing her with their filthy looks?

  Why did he like this so much?

  Rachel was leaning over, standing next to a table. She was talking to Arthur. She had apparently realized that her shirt swung open when she leaned over, so she had crossed one arm over her chest as though she were itching her shoulder. No view of her tits, which was disappointing. But everyone could still see the length of her leg where her skirt had crawled up high on her thigh.

  Josh felt a rush as he looked around the room, and thought about all the men who were imagining what Rachel's ass looked like without her skirt, as she bent over.

  Arthur was shaking his head. He held his hands up, palms upward. There's nothing I can do, his expression said.

  Josh was suddenly brought back down to earth as Rachel formed a thin line with her lips and looked up. Josh followed her gaze, and saw that she was looking to Xavier. Xavier shook his head.

  Josh watched his wife, looking back and forth from her to Xavier.

  There was definitely something going on between those two.

  He felt another quake of pleasure below the table.

  Definitely pleasure.

  God, what the hell was wrong with him?

  Now that he had some time to think about it, he couldn't help feeling like he had missed an opportunity last night. He wasn't entirely sure how the conversation had gone wrong, or why. He wished he could go back in time and redirect what they had said to each other.