Chapter 4
“Hiiii, baby,” I greeted her hesitantly. I was in California—meetings all week with Toyota, Honda and Hyundai at their US HQ’s.
The day before, we’d actually been on the same flight to LAX. Which had amused my boss Alan and Sasha’s colleagues, as he regaled them with tales of what Sasha was like when she was a young girl. (Alan had been a favorite ‘Uncle’ before he found Mrs. Burton and had his own family.)
And that’s why I was so confused. When Sasha went to LAX, it was normally the start of a multi-day trip before she returned to Michigan for her rest days.
But right now, I wasn’t looking at Sasha’s beautiful face against the corporately clinal backdrop of a Hilton or a Marriott. Right now I was looking at her against the highly personal backdrop of our family living back in Chelsea.
“Hey, baby!”
If I’d been confused and hesitant, her reply was bright and breezy, with a sparkle that told me she had something mischievous in mind.
There was silence.
She wasn’t going to help me. She was enjoying herself far too much for that. I knew I was going to have to be the one to make the first move. To ask the first question.
“You’re back home? Did something happen? Is everyone okay?”
“Of course, sweetie,” she beamed. “Silly me… I forgot to tell you… after LAX, they changed my schedule… I’m on short hauls all week… I’ll be home every night this week…”
Another long, poignant pause. She knew exactly what I was thinking. What I was wondering. But she wasn’t going to make it easy by volunteering anything. She was going to force my cheeks to flush as I asked what both of us knew I was thinking.
“What about Thomas? Won’t you miss him? You there in Michigan, him over there somewhere west?”
“I do love you, baby,” she teased, inference: why was I so na?ve?
“Of course he’s not in the west… he’s right here with me… do you wanna say hi?”
Before I’d had any kind of chance to reply, I was staring shell-shocked at those handsome, chiseled dark cheekbones of my wife’s boyfriend’s.
“Hey, Jase, man… how ya doing?”
He knew damn well how I was doing. I wasn’t doing at all. I was stunned, my brain spinning all over the place. Wondering what this all meant, and wondering just what I felt about what I was seeing.
The next few minutes were what, back in 1939, they called The Phony War.
Then, it had been Germany, France and Britain facing off over the border, each of them too frightened to move. For the three of us, it was the same lack of action—as we discussed the uninteresting minutiae of our respective days. But only one of the three of us was frightened.
As normal, it was my naughty wife who broke the impasse.
“Well, honey… I’ve been with Thomas all day, but had to be a good girl… so right now, my pussy’s itching like crazy for that monster cock of his…
“So you wouldn’t mind if I hop into bed with my boyfriend, would you?
“Camera on or camera off?”
Fuck! That smile of hers could tease blood out of a stone.
She knew I was like a man tethered to three animals pulling in opposite directions.
One part wanting to say ‘fuck no’ and maintain some shred of self-respect.
One part wanting to scream and shout and tell her not to play me for a fool.
And one part with a rapidly swelling cock who wanted nothing more than to have the red meat he’d been expecting from an LA Marriott.
She didn’t wait for answer. Even if I’d not spoken a single word, she knew my answer. She held the phone in front of her face as she smiled and clip-clopped up the stairs. Thomas a single place behind, his hands loose and possessive on Sasha’s hips.
As they reached the top of the stairs, my heart was in my throat. Which bedroom would they use? The only night Sasha had ever allowed Thomas to have her in our marital bed—the night before my final interview—I’d taken it as a tease. As a tease and a one-off thing.
But now with me away all week and the two of them all horny and alone in our family home, I felt a shiver run through me at the thought of what might be about to happen.
“Jase, baby,” she started, looking into the lens with mock seriousness, with mock sweetness.
“You’re all the way over there, and he’s all the way over here…
you wouldn’t want your sweet little wife getting all lonely and scared, would you?
Without a man in the house to make her feel safe and secure?
“And, well… he is our guest… we were both taught to always honor our guests with the best…”
With that she blew me a kiss and turned the phone around so I got a picture perfect view of the door she’d chosen to take Thomas through—the door into our marital bedroom.
I might be the newly crowned Director, Process Engineering, but right now I was just another schmuck being knocked down the pecking order as Sasha gave Thomas another thing that until now had been mine.
As Sasha propped her phone up on the dresser, I had precious little time to worry about whether this was for real or was just another part of the teasing game. Because the thoughtful, worrying part of my mind was crowded out by the far baser emotions of lust and jealousy.
Lust as I looked at my wife’s naked body and jealousy as I saw the way she looked at Thomas’s fit, muscled body and his huge cock.
The jealous bit easy to understand—why the fuck couldn’t I have a body and cock like that.
The lust bit more indirect and bittersweet.
I think every guy like me loves the hotwifing game because he half imagines it’s him dragging those tortured moans from his wife’s body as he watches his woman rutting with a superior male. At least, that’s what I told myself!
Thomas was soon pushing deep into my woman, Sasha instantly locking him in place as she wrapped her legs tight around his back.
Their kisses were long and emotional as Thomas started working in and out with long, powerful strokes that made Sasha’s body tense up way too early to be remotely fair—how the hell could normal guys hope to compete with a guy like this.
My emotions were all over the place. The pain of exclusion and remoteness.
The arousal of watching two attractive people fuck in the most intimate and erotic of ways.
Each kissing, caressing and emotionally connected with each other as they gave and received the most overwhelming of pleasures a male and a female can share.
At the start, even if it was only through teasing, I’d felt involved. But as Sasha approached her first climax, I knew I was already far from her mind. The only things in her mind right now were Thomas, Thomas’s huge spear and the orgasm it was about to give her.
My own hand had long since gone inside my pants. At least I could feel some kind of involvement as the sobs and squeals of my beautiful wife battered my brain until finally we all came together—a first for me and Thomas, a fourth for my happy, squirming wife.
Now that I’d cum—post-nut clarity I think they call it—as they lay there face-to-face just cuddling, kissing and whispering—all of my old fears and angst came flooding back.
I was going to be travelling for most of the next two months, and I’d allowed myself to be guilted into allowing Sasha to keep Thomas as her boyfriend for all that time, with the month of June thrown in just for good measure!
Seeing them there like that—me and our love the furthest thing from Sasha’s mind—I longed for even the smallest of gestures, the smallest of connections.
Even being teased or taunted would have been better than this.
Nothingness. No sense of involvement. Just the torment of watching the two of them experiencing the absolute opposite of what I was feeling right now.
They had each other. They had the ultimate closeness and human connection.
Me, what did I have? My right hand for company and the desperate, pathetic hope that sometime soon they might remember that I was still with them.
Even if only perched up on the dresser in electronic, virtual form.
Eventually I forced myself to cough—another knock to my sense of self-respect. At least it did break through. The sound caused Sasha to cease her loving gaze at Thomas long enough to see the phone and remember I was still dialed in.
I thought there might be some sense of guilt or embarrassment on her face. Instead, there was just a teasing smile. We’d played the game so long now—Victor, Andre, Benson and now Thomas—maybe it was unrealistic to expect anything else.
“Jason, honey… I forgot all about you there…”
Well, I guess that was something. It did make me feel a little better. But what came next somehow managed to make me worse and better all at the same time.
“If we were in one of our layover hotels, we’d be saying goodnight now,” she grinned mischievously. “But, kicking you out of your home, so to speak, that feels kind of mean… so how’s about this…”
By now I was getting a close up view of Sasha’s lovely boobs and face as she’d picked up the phone and was walking me and it towards the door, somewhere more private.
In my na?ve state of mind, I’d thought she was maybe walking me and the phone somewhere quiet and private so we could have one of our normal end of day catch-ups.
But as she squatted—damn, even in her mid-thirties, she still had an amazing body—and propped the phone against the wall, with a sinking heart I began to realize she had something very different in mind.
“I think this is a fair compromise… don’t you, honey,” she beamed. “Thomas and his girlfriend get their normal privacy, and my kinky cucky husband doesn’t get to watch… but at least he gets to listen…”
She blew me my second kiss of the evening, and then she was gone, the bedroom door was shut behind her and I was left feeling more alone and isolated than ever.
Alone, and to my shame straining my ears for any little sound.
Because any little sound was the only kind of medicine that would anaesthetize my pain and make me feel even the tiniest bit involved.
That Tuesday night just after Easter set the pattern for pretty much every weekday night in April.
With just the odd exception, I was away visiting one or other of the nation’s car assembly plants or automaker HQs, while Sasha and Thomas had wangled themselves a month of short haul flights.
So each night they’d be back in Chelsea doing their best to wear out the our marriage bed’s mattress springs.
Thankfully for us, our neighbors Todd and Jill were still away, with Todd finishing his posting to Ford Europe.
And out in Chelsea, away from the major local cities, they were only likely to get the occasional Airbnb guest in their otherwise vacant home.
Otherwise, the near-constant weekday presence of a younger Black man while I was away would have been hard to explain.
Both for them and for me, Sasha and Thomas made sure there was variety in their activities.
Some nights they made sure to heavily involve me. The camera would be up close so I’d not miss a single detail as Sasha’s mouth lovingly worshipped her co-worker’s manly cock. Or as it stretched her love lips to breaking point as he gave her all of his thick eleven inches.
Those nights, whichever of them had the best opportunity would often tease and taunt me.
’Babe, he fucks me so good.’ ‘He feels so wonderful, so much better than you, honey… so deep… I feel so full… much better than your little white cock baby…’
‘Don’t think she’s ever coming back, Jase! Why would she?’ ‘Look at her face, man… listen to those sobs… she can’t get enough, man… you know you can never give her this…’
Victor had never really been like this, and Benson for the most part had been too into Sasha to care about me. But when Andre and Sasha had been together, this kind of trash talking had been common.
Only this time, three years further on, it felt very different. The maturity of Thomas—younger than us, but a grown up man, not a overgrown kid like Andre—and the huge amount of time they’d spent together made the taunts and teasing feel very different this time.
Other times, it wouldn’t be close ups and teasing taunts—they’d go the total opposite direction.
Partially or wholly excluding me from their evening.
Sometimes it felt like they did this as part of the game—to add an extra spark.
But sometimes it felt like they did it because they wanted total privacy. Total privacy to allow total closeness.
Through those four weeks of April, the only lifeline that kept me vaguely sane was the time at weekends when it was just Sasha and me.
Aside from the quality time this gave us—which was absolutely vital for my emotional well-being—it also reassured me as not once did Sasha try and import Thomas into one of these weekends.
There were no instances of me arriving Friday, savoring our special Sasha-Jason time on Saturday, only then to find Thomas invited around for Sunday.
If the weekends were my lifeline, the days away often became the opposite.
Sometimes I was okay, and any doubts I had were small and easily suppressed.
But other times, maybe if I’d had a bad day or meeting, I’d convince myself that a look I’d seen between Sasha and Thomas meant trouble.
In the wrong frame of mind, which happened increasingly as the month progressed, I’d convince myself that the looks and closeness I saw between Sasha and Thomas meant their relationship was becoming as dangerous as what had happened between her and Benson.
Just when I was beginning to think I’d made a terrible mistake, two things happened that really moved the dial.