Arnica Butler - Well-Constructed Affairs Read online

  Mark smiled at her. “Those were sexy stockings,” he said.

  She smiled wickedly at him. Giving him just the right amount of flirt, and mystery. She didn't say anything for a moment.

  Then:

  “So you want to head over to that fountain? I'm dying to stick my feet in it. Get a little wet.” She leaned closer to him to say this, hoping that John had a good clear view of how her body was within inches of Mark's.

  And then they left, hand in hand. She skipped over the a small wall and Mark followed her.

  “So how do you know Marie?” he asked her, a little lamely, when they were finally by the fountain.

  Adria sat down on the edge of the fountain, and trailed her hand along the smooth cement. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every movement. She also knew that John was doing the same. The effect was intoxicating. She gave her hair a toss and looked up at him adoringly. “Oh, you know. School.”

  He brought his champagne to his lips. He had a wry smile on his face. “And you're married,” he said.

  Adria felt her heart beat faster. She was. She was married, and her husband was watching her. Her husband wanted her to flirt with this man, or do even more. She held up her hand, and used her thumb to move her wedding ring around. She gave him a coy smile. “Does that matter?”

  He laughed lightly. “Not to me.” The game was on.

  Adria nodded in the direction of the pool. “I hear there are some really nice cabanas over there.”

  Mark swallowed the rest of his champagne. “It's too cold to swim,” he said suggestively.

  Adria could scarcely believe herself, as she slid her fingers over her hair, and twisted it with her fingers. “We'll have to find something else to do then,” she said.

  Mark grinned, and threw his glass over his shoulder. Adria stood up. “I'll meet you over there?” she said, tracing her finger down his chest. “I just don't want to call any attention to...you know.”

  Mark whistled as he stepped in the direction of the pool, comedically feigning that he was doing nothing more than taking a walk.

  Adria smiled, and walked in the opposite direction.

  Scratch that. She strode in the opposite direction.

  She felt like she was high. She was high on the power she seemed to be exuding, in her pin-up dress, everywhere she walked. She liked that she could turn heads. She liked that she looked better than any woman here. She liked that she was going to do something very, very naughty.

  She found her husband on the balcony above the lawn. His expression – one she was familiar with by now, of both hunger and hurt – turned her on when she met his eyes. She wondered if this was the same cold animal that crawled in his chest when she flirted with other men. The same raw feeling that spiked through her, from heart to groin.

  She glided up to him and leaned on the balcony.

  “What happened?” he said.

  “I'm doing it.” She turned, and pressed her hand against his chest. “I'm going to a cabana by the pool.”

  And then she let her hand drop, and she pushed past him, down the other side of the stairwell. She resisted the urge to look back as she crossed the lawn, knowing it was only adding to his pleasure to see her walk away without a second thought.

  John felt like he was being burned alive from the inside as he watched Adria cross the lawn. She had her shoes swinging in one hand and a her step seemed lighthearted.

  Lighthearted, as she went off to sleep with another man.

  True enough, he had asked her to. True enough, he wanted her to. He had no reason to feel the despair he felt, but why was she so casual about it?

  He waited and he followed. It felt a lot like following her down the hallway of their house, only this time he was not following his wife back to their bedroom to make love. Instead, he was following his wife to a public place, to watch her make love to another man.

  The thought of it punched him in the stomach and he clutched his lower abdomen in pain. Adria's dress flitted away through a passage in the trees. She was out of sight for a moment, and he went cold. He hurried to catch up, and then paused by the passage, not wanting to get caught by her lover, following his wife looking like mad dog.

  There were three cabanas next to the enormous pool. The area wasn't genuinely part of the party, though it was on the grounds and it didn't seem off-limits. The pool was an Olympic-sized pool with black lane lines and a very deep end, so perhaps it didn't give off quite the same aura of “relaxing party” as the rest of the grounds did.

  John's eyes darted from cabana to cabana, and his heart momentarily stopped as he thought for a second that he had lost his wife. She was nowhere to be seen.

  Then he realized that he didn't have to do anything more than try each one of the cabanas. But how to do it surreptitiously?

  He felt like a pervert and a fool, really, as he crept around each of the white tent cabanas. There was almost an inch of space between the frail, white material that formed the cabanas, and the ground. If either one of them looked down they would see him – or at least his toes – lurking, walking hesitantly around the cabana, coming to spy on his own wife fucking a younger, better-looking man.

  He was at the rear of one of the cabanas, sure that it was the right one because the other two, which he could not see very clearly because of the angle he was at, still had at least one of the door flaps open.

  But there was no noise at all from with the first cabana, and so he crept along the side of it and over to some bushes. He moved along, feeling clumsy and foolish, approaching the other two cabanas. Alternating dread and horror and lust pulsed through him, as he considered the possibilities before him: either his wife was going to fuck a stranger in a cabana with an open door, or they had gone somewhere—

  His own thoughts ground to a halt as he saw that the former was true. Adria was in the closest hut, and the door was not completely closed, and her body was meshed with the body of the young man she had been flirting with. Her back was to the door, and then man's big hand was pressed against her bare back, holding her to him as he kissed her obscenely, digging his tongue into her mouth.

  They were kissing passionately, each of them moving their heads in the wild, unbridled movements of people engaging in a first-time, forbidden lust. Really swallowing each other's lips, fighting for more.

  John looked around in desperation for two things: a place to hide himself, and to assure himself that no one was in the pool area. The voices from the wedding were close-by, just over the hedge, and here was his wife, cabana doors open, letting another man paw at her.

  Fuck her.

  He stumbled behind a bush located closer to the cabana, and pushed aside the branches to see in. It was an unsatisfactory view. He could only see their bodies pressed close together, but not the precious details he both wanted and didn't want.

  He cast his eyes in desperation at the other cabana, searching for details that would help him find a way to see what he wanted to see more clearly. The cabana was just a tent on a frame, with a double bed-type piece of furniture and several reclining chairs. The curtains untied and then fell closed to create privacy. There were no windows, no real places to hide inside the cabana.

  The sounds of his wife and her lover kissing intensified. He heard a throaty murmur from Adria. Or maybe a moan. His cock was hard and ached between his legs. He was crouched in an awkward and humiliating position, trying to hide himself while getting his best, perverted view of what his wife was letting another man do to her.

  Their bodies fell into the shadows of the cabana, and John felt his heart plummet with them.

  Then it soared again, as his wife appeared at the foot of the bed, and he could see her sliding the zipper of her dress down slowly. He watched as the zipper parted, imagining the view from wherever the guy was – propped up, no doubt, on his elbows, and smirking with delight as John's wife's dress broke apart in the back, and threatened at every moment to come loose from her shoulders and slide down her b
ody.

  It finally did, and landed with a fluffy pile. Her breasts were bare, and only her underwear remained.

  John looked around the pool area again. Anyone walking by would be able to see her undressing. He sucked in his breath as she hooked her fingers beneath her panties and slid them, too, down her long legs and into the pile of dress and undergarment.

  She stepped out of the pile neatly, her lithe body perfectly framed for a moment by the single open door of the cabana.

  Then she turned, and released the curtain. John – and anyone else, if they were looking over the hedge – had a brief view of her breasts and her narrow waist, the downy blonde between her legs, and then she was gone.

  He waited a moment, trying to think of what to do.

  He had come up with no plan when he heard the first low moan. Adria's moan. He wondered what she could be doing, what he would see if only he could see inside. He began to crawl toward the cabana, with no idea what he was going to do. He felt like such a pervert, such a demented man, crawling and trying to hide himself, so that he could spy on his wife and her lover. But there was no stopping him; he knew that. Even if someone saw him, he would keep going.

  He rounded the cabana, and from through the thin “wall” he was treated to more of Adria's moaning. Then her breathy voice, jagged with pleasure: “oh god...yes...pl-plea- plea – right...”

  John's cock felt like it was made of a heavy metal, and it would break off any moment. He paused next to where he believed there was a second reclining chair, if the other cabana had the same floor plan as this one. He lifted the material.

  It only gave a few inches. His plan, formed only seconds before, had been to crawl under the lounge chair and lie on the cold cement, watching his wife's tits bounce or her legs spread open, as he lay on his back, largely hidden from view.

  But his hopes were dashed.

  Adria moaned again. “Oh...oh my god,” she was panting.

  He pressed his face against the cement and peered in: he had been right, he was right next to a reclining chair. His view was hidden by it.

  John scarcely had control over his body or his mind, It was almost as if he watched his hands moving in a movie, and not in any way in this real life. He couldn’t feel them as they dipped into his pockets and found his knife, a knife he always carried and never used, a knife his brother had given saying you could never be sure when you would need a knife. He didn't feel his fingers as they popped the utility knife open and sliced through the tent material, one long, jagged cut, just big enough to push the material to one side and allow him to crawl in.

  And then, suddenly, there he was. Lying on the floor, his cock pressed against the cold cement through his suit pants. Every other part of his body as cold and numb as the cement. Painful twitches throbbed in his cock, as he looked up and saw what was making Adria moan.

  She was pressed against the back of the bed-like furniture, where a flat metal “headboard” with one rail above it marked the end of the bed. Her arms were stretched out on either side of her, and she was gripping the rail fiercely with each hand. She was sitting upright, and looking down at the black hair moving between her legs. Her own legs were spread wide, and so the black head could be doing only one thing where he was.

  And he seemed to be doing it well. Adria's feet bobbed with the motion of his head, and she threw her head back and thrust her pink nipples up at the ceiling. “Oh god,” she seethed. John saw the muscles of her abdomen ripple with her heightening excitement, winding her up so that she was nearly over the edge.

  Then her body seized up as though being shocked with electricity, and she opened her mouth as she threw her head back, but no sound came out for a moment. Then she seemed almost to start sobbing. Her chest heaved up and down, and John watched her orgasm shudder through in wave after wave of pleasure, before she let out a long, tortured moan that he was sure everyone could hear, everywhere at the party.

  Her lover lifted his head and rested back on his knees. His cock was hard and pointed straight up and in front of him, like a missile ready to launch. He wiped his mouth, and John saw that Adria's pussy was glistening all over with her cum. Her thighs were wet as well. From the center of her engorged pink cunt, he could see that her excitement was still flowing with each spasm of her body.

  The man reached forward and grabbed her hair. He didn't need to force her much to get her to change position, onto her knees, and lean over to suck his ready cock. John listened in agony to the slurping sounds of his wife's mouth as she bobbed up and down on the meat of the stranger, sucking diligently on his ample cock as he cupped the back of her head in his palm. He held her head like a football and smugly watched as she sucked fervently on his cock.

  John stared in pain at her mouth when she was at the crown, at her lips spread open by another man's cock. He couldn’t see the whole scene as she dove down; her face disappeared and all he could see was her hair and the stranger's hand, pushing her down, all the way to where she must have been gagging. He heard the sticky sound of her choking a little as she bobbed back up. And then down again. Over and over. She began to hum, making a sound like she was really enjoying swallowing the man's dick all the way to the back of her throat. Enjoying being pushed to the base of his cock and held there briefly, with her throat full of meat.

  Finally, he pulled her up and used his grip on her hair to turn her around. He pushed her into position so that she was gripping the railing of the bed and her ass was turned toward him.

  From where he was, John had a perfect view from below, as the guy guided his fat cock to her dripping pussy, and rubbed the glans around, pressing against her fat clit until she moaned and twitched in pleasure. Then he had a perfect view as each fat inch of the guy's cock slid into his wife's flesh.

  The man went slowly in, and Adria moaned. But once he pressed the base of his cock against her opening, his balls squeezed together as he tried to slide even further in, filling her even more.

  He began to fuck her.

  His balls swung wildly against her clit as he hammered her. Their skin slapped together and he strained the walls of her cunt to a pale white as rammed her, slamming himself in as deep as he could go. John heard Adria's voice wind up to a crescendo: a high-pitched wail left her throat and he saw her juices burst from the sides of the man's pummeling dick. The squelching sound of his fucking got wetter and sloppier as he started to pound her even harder and without mercy. Her body slid along the bed, until she was practically hanging over the headboard, but he didn't stop until he let out a groan and dumped his seed inside of her.

  John could see the white cum gushing between her legs before he even slid his dick out. Adria's legs were trembling, and for a moment he had the sinking sensation that she was hurt, but she threw her head back and inhaled. “Fuck,” she said. “That was good.” She pushed herself up and displayed her pretty body for him, and for John (at least he hoped it was in part for him).

  Then she turned around. “Mark,” she said, and she put her finger under his chin. “That was lovely. I need you to go now, though, before my husband starts to look for me.”

  Mark leaned back on his heels, and his mouth was open in surprise. Though John could see that he also looked amused. “Your husband is actually here?” he said, in a disbelieving tone. “At the party?”

  Adria wiped the corner of her mouth and smiled. “Of course. So get going.”

  John held his breath and slid under the lounge chair, as Mark gathered his things, chuckling a little. “You are one crazy bitch,” he said. “Call me, if you ever...you know...?”

  John couldn't see Adria, so he had no idea how she responded.

  A moment passed after Mark left.

  “Are you here?” Adria said.

  John slid his head out from under the lounge chair.

  Adria smiled. “Clever monkey,” she teased.

  And then she made his whole body go wild with a sensation he had never felt before or even imagined when she flopped onto h
er stomach and looked down at him from the edge of the bed. “Is your cock still hard?” she said. “Do you want to hop up here?”

  He slid out from under the chair, almost cracking his cock open on the low clearing. Adria remained where she was, with her beautiful body ass-up on the bed, stretched out, her feet playfully kicking at the air. She followed him with her eyes as he walked around her, and dropped his pants to the floor. She parted her legs, and he saw her used cunt, protruding clit, and the trickle of white cream her lover had left behind as the scent of her body and his astringent cum assailed his nostrils.

  His cock was so hard it seemed larger than ever, and it throbbed painfully, erect in front of him. He clambered onto the bed as Adria shifted her head to rest on her folded arms, like she was sunning herself at the beach. He caught her playful feet, and pushed them down to the bed, where he held them for a moment as Adria slid her ass backward and toward him. When she did, even more of the white cum dribbled from her pussy, and he stared in wonderment at his own hand and cock as they guided each other to his wife's pussy, and entered her stretched, unfaithful, cunt.

  The feel of her pussy, slippery with the cum of another man and her own two orgasms, and the looseness of her walls, sent him nearly to the edge in a single thrust. After all that he had watched, he only to admit the image of Mark's big balls, dangling and swinging into her cunt, to send him over the cliff. He screamed as his own cum tore out of him and into his wife's dirty hole.

  She rose up on her knees, and pushed him backward as she did. She sat down on his lap, her back to him, his cock still inside of her, pulsing and twitching. He was still hard, and her every movement was too excruciatingly pleasurable to bear. Her firm bottom spread out, hot and sticky, on his lap. She ground herself on top of him. His aching balls screamed.

  She leaned back against him, pressing her back against his chest. Her hands stoked the outside of his thighs.

  “Did you like that?” she purred.

  He breathed into her neck. There wasn't any point of saying anything; it would all sound trite anyway. Some questions in sex were best left rhetorical.