Chapter 5
The week had been the normal mix of meet-and-greet introductions, dinner and maybe a drink or two. Followed by me fighting with my conscience and sense of self-respect, before inevitably doing what I knew I was going to do as I FaceTimed home.
Each call starting the same. That anxious wait through the pre-accept chirps as I waited to see what kind of call Sasha and Thomas had planned for me this time.
A teasing, slightly humiliating call—but at least one where I’d be involved.
Or a call when, after the briefest of hellos, the door would be closed and the most I could hope for was to be allowed to listen in. Or maybe something in the middle.
But that was Monday through Thursday. Now it was Friday, and I was home, enjoying a lovely home-cooked meal, Sasha fussing over me through three courses, coffee and cheese, and looking at me in a way that said that as soon as the table was cleared, she’d be dragging me upstairs to bed.
“We never did really celebrate your promotion.” She couldn’t have been clearer. And let’s just say she delivered on her promise—and then some.
Lying in bed, balls empty, Sasha curled beside me, I felt on top of the world. My recent ups and downs, and escalating fears far from my mind. But when Sasha started speaking, I wondered if this whole lovely evening had been one big manipulation.
“Jase, hun… would it be okay if I see Thomas tomorrow night… go on a date, just him and me…”
Seeing my pained, angry look, Sasha went into damage limitation mode.
“Sorry, babe… you tired me out so much”—yeah, right—“I forgot to explain… I know weekdays are his and weekends are yours, but he’s going to be away for the next two weeks… a friend’s wedding back in South Africa… so tomorrow’s my last chance to see him for a while…”
That did make me feel a whole lot better. Two weeks just me and Sasha sounded wonderful, although I still felt a little played.
I never could resist Sasha’s top-of-the-line puppy dog look, especially when the perv in me reckoned I could use this to my advantage.
Watching through Sasha’s IPhone was fine for everyday, but the voyeur in me craved what I’d not had for a whole month.
The cock-hardening, soul-shredding high of being in the same room as my wife and her boyfriend so I could watch and listen in full 4K quality.
“Okay, but Sunday, your back, mine…”
She smiled and nodded.
“And Saturday, I get to watch…”
We settled on ‘half-and-half’, Sasha pointing out it would be their last night together for a fortnight, her face telling me if I pushed it, I’d break the married man’s unwritten rule—Happy wife, happy life.
As we carried on cuddling through my recovery time, I had to chuckle at my own inconsistency.
The relationship, sexual equivalent of Superman.
One visit to the cuck phone booth, and in the space of five minutes I’d gone from grumpy, manipulated husband to energized, excited voyeur.
Cock already hardening for round two at the prospect of tomorrow night.
Saturday night was the perfect send off for Thomas—two whole weeks without Sasha, how could a man cope—and the perfect kinky cuck night for Jason the voyeur.
Thomas arrived at around five. Sasha had persuaded me to cook steak, so our handsome smiling guest came armed with twin bottles of 2007 Vin de Constance red from his homeland.
Wow! That had to be a couple of hundred bucks right there, I thought. Glad that I’d pushed out the boat and gone for Wagyu, smiling to myself at the secret thought this was a double celebration. Promotion and getting Sasha all to myself for a whole fortnight!
Hardly a surprise, as soon as I looked through from the kitchen into the living room, I realized why Sasha had been so keen I should be the one to cook. Still fully clothed, she and Thomas were eager to make up for a whole one day since they’d been together.
Sasha had one hand buried inside Thomas’s shirt—rubbing at his visibly hard nipples—while the other cupped the side of his neck, kissing him like she couldn’t bear the thought of a fortnight apart.
Thomas kissed her back slowly, deeply, and even over the low sizzle of the oil I could hear Sasha’s soft little moans of need, the low murmur of words passing, deliberately spoken at a volume I couldn’t understand.
Briefly they looked over at me—both of them smiling, speaking even more quietly—before his hand copied Sasha’s, Sliding from her waist and onto her breast, teasing her bra cups down so he could go to work on her boobs.
Sasha didn’t just accept it — she pressed hard into him, letting out another sob as he really rolled and pulled at her swollen nipples.
Exciting her so much her palm was soon off his chest and rubbing urgently at the front of his pants.
The hunger in her eyes making me wonder if there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her young Black co-worker.
And me, what did I do? What was my contribution to this picture of lust. I stood there with the spatula in my hand, heat rising in my face, my stomach twisting itself into knots as I tried not to stare too obviously. Not that they’d have even noticed, they were so engrossed in each other.
Part of me wanted to look away, to focus on the meal I was cooking for them, to be the normal husband making dinner in his family kitchen.
And another part of me wanted to drag Sasha away and claim her for myself.
But, as normal, the biggest part of me was rooted to the floor, jealous and turned on and feeling shameful humiliation at how much I needed to keep watching.
The meal itself was fairly uneventful. The Vin de Constance was excellent—fully justifying its price tag.
And, even if I say so myself, my Wagyu melted in the mouth.
Not that Thomas and Sasha showed any signs of appreciating it—they were too busy making eyes at each other.
Their only real concession to my presence being the half-open to me conversation and that, for the most part, they kept their hands to themselves.
But when the meal was done, those hands were soon back at work. Only this time it wasn’t just living room caresses and foreplay, it was urgently stripping their clothes off—Thomas was already at full mast, Sasha’s nipples looked like organ stops—before they headed for the staircase.
Just for a moment, I thought that Sasha was going to seek my input or ask my permission. Before the moment past and her hips were swaying their way up the stairs with Thomas’s massive cock bobbing along just inches behind her ass.
Maybe a month ago she’d have asked. But after April’s developments, who was I kidding? It was a foregone conclusion which bedroom they’d be occupying for the next few hours. The best I could hope for being I might get my bedroom and my wife back when it came time to sleep.
I might have been feeling totally jealous and more than a little sorry for myself, but that didn’t mean I was going to forego watching and listening.
At first I hovered in the doorway—I did and didn’t want the close-up best view, but I wanted to maintain some self-respect—but then for the first time in ages Thomas turned and spoke to me.
“Come on, Jason… don’t be shy,” he teased, “come close so you can really properly see how good Sash and me are together… see and hear what a real cock, a real black cock does for her…”
As he said this, his face wasn’t especially cruel, but neither was it kind.
His expression just mixed factual honesty with an Alpha male desire for me to understand the facts of life.
To understand the end game of where things had gotten to after five months when Thomas and Sasha had been together (physically and sexually) far more often than she and I had been.
I was too keyed up, too horny and too addicted to put up any kind of resistance. I padded my way into the room and stifled my shame as I moved as close as I could.
I’d thought they were so hungry for each other that they’d immediately start to fuck. But Sasha had other ideas as she dropped to her knees in front of her young Black boyfriend and pulled me down to kneel next to her.
“Look, honey… isn’t it beautiful… so manly…”
The rings I’d given her twinkled in the light as she used both hands to work his fat cock up and down, pulling me ever closer until my face was just inches away from that hot, throbbing mass of ridges, knots and sticky pre-cum.
Playfully, she kissed his giant plum of a cock head before slipping it into her welcoming mouth for a little suck.
“I bet you’d like to do that as well, wouldn’t you, honey,” she teased, “but you’re still too scared, too scared in so many different ways…”
She kissed me—his salty tang the dominant flavor, making me wretch a little, which just made her giggle and smile.
“Never mind, if you’re too scared to give it a little kiss, why don’t you just hold it like you did before…
there you go, that’s it… feel its weight, its heat,” she smirked, enjoying my discomfort as her hand held mine on his cock.
As once again I felt the humiliation of touching and holding Thomas’s far superior manhood.
“Imagine what something like that feels like inside me, baby” she whispered into my ear, giving me the strangest of moments, just her and me.
“No wonder I’m hooked… can’t get enough,” she hissed, only me able to hear, as she squeezed her hand on top of mine to make me really feel Thomas’s meat.
“Do you want to put him inside me, get real close, see every tiny detail,” she teased quietly, looking directly into my eyes, her eyes twinkling with mirth and challenge.
“If you don’t want to taste him, are you man enough to do this instead?
Secure enough in your masculinity to break a few barriers… ”
Sasha had only had two glasses of the Vin de Constance, but this had to be the strangest conversation in all our years together.