Chapter 10
‘The next few minutes’
The next few minutes didn’t play out in any kind of way I’d hoped for.
Sasha certainly didn’t come back through the front door in those next few minutes.
In fact, it was a full six hours before she finally came back through our front door. And even then, I soon discovered her return was at the suggestion of Thomas. How humiliating was that?
“We should talk,” was all she said. Trying to read her, I could tell her mood was somewhere in the middle. She wasn’t about to break down and apologize for everything said and done. But her face had a look that said she wanted to find a middle ground.
Decision time.
Stick to my guns. Tell her exactly how I’m feeling. Scream and shout. Or Plan B. Build slowly, back to the happy place we’d inhabited just a week ago.
Sighing deeply, I patted the sofa spot next to me. Physical closeness would help us. Help break down the barriers.
She accepted my offer. I sensed her prickliness damp down a little.
“Kool-Aid?” I asked.
I’d not planned to say it. It just kind of came to me.
She’d been the one who’d used it as shorthand code for her internal struggles as she moved from a life of youth and fun to a life of motherhood and putting family first. A code for her mixed feelings as she raged at the dying of the light of youth and focus just on her and me…
She smiled.
That was progress. I could feel the barriers softening.
“Yes, you’re right… Kool-Aid… last night, today, it’s all Kool-Aid
raging against the dying light of youth and selfishness…”
I smiled. I didn’t have the same love of literature as she did, but I recognized her quoting one of her favorite writers, the Welshman Dylan Thomas.
Another deep breath. We were making progress. But I needed to be brave and tiptoe into the minefield of how I was feeling.
“Sash… those things you said… tiny white dick… doesn’t know how to fuck, not like them, not like Thomas and the others… that really hurt me… really hurt me!”
She went pensive. Looked thoughtful. I could tell she felt bad about hurting me. But I was also seeing something else there. Something more steely.
“Sorry… I love you… I’ll always love you… I didn’t mean to hurt you… I never mean to hurt you… but was a word of what I said wrong? Especially about you preferring to watch me with guys like Thomas or Benson or Andre… preferring to watch rather than try to compete…”
Before speaking, Sasha had paused and searched for the right words, but my response was instant and intuitive. Heart-felt.
“That’s as may be… I won’t deny any of that’s true… but what I need to say is that none of that invalidates the love I have for you… the love we have for each other…
“Yes, we play games… yes, they can fuck you better than I ever can… but that doesn’t mean I’m a lesser man… that the sex between us is more meaningful because it’s not just sex, it’s love…”
I wasn’t done, I was on a roll…
“Sash, babe… when you say things like that in front of Thomas… in front of total strangers… how do you think it makes me feel?”
There was a long, pregnant pause. Sasha’s eyes locked onto mine. Both of us feeling the love. But both of us knowing we weren’t going to back down from speaking truth.
It was Sash’s turn to sigh, looking deep into my eyes as she spoke her truth.
“I know you love me… with all your heart.
“And I love you with all my heart, sweetheart,” she muttered, “but let’s be honest, no matter how many kidlets we have, this thing ain’t going away… you love the kinky, humiliating thrill of it too much... and I love the amazing sex too much…”
We were all talked out. There was nothing worth adding to what Sasha had said. We both knew that what she was calling out was the truth.
And, although neither of us said anything, we both knew we were entering new territory.
The weird thing being that—despite the extremeness of what had happened over the last few hours—this wasn’t about sexual extremes or gangs of teenage lovers.
This was about the future of Sasha and Jason. About what we could and couldn’t be. About the limits and desires we’d always had and how they’d become embedded and had grown these last few years.
“So, what next?” As ever, in matters of EQ, it was Sasha who asked the question.
I sighed. Sighed and negotiated.
“It’s Saturday mid-afternoon now… I’m guessing… cancel that… I am stone-cold certain there’s a bunch of horny teenagers waiting next door to fuck you all over again… so howzabout you go and see to their needs… then come back to your kinky, slightly deviant husband when it’s time to sleep?”
I loved her.
But she was a fucking bitch. Far too adept at knowing the depths in me that I desperately tried to hide.
“Well, that is an option… but howzabout we go with a Plan B… a Plan B that recognizes just how kinky my husband is… and just how much he loves that sick, sweet pain of humiliation…
“Howzabout I don’t come back Saturday night… I let my hubby stew in those humiliation juices he so seems to love… and instead, I come back Sunday night… maybe…”
Fuck! The smile she gave me to accompany that last short word… it was a smile that crucified me. A smile that said we both knew how this was going to play out… and that we both knew that she held all the aces.
Saturday night came and went—no Sasha.
Which meant Sunday my self-control lasted until after lunch. When the poolside sounds of laughter and sex starting up again—there had been plenty of morning sounds as well—drew me like a moth to a flame.
I didn’t announce myself. Just like the day before, I lingered in the shadows, careful to avoid discovery. Sasha and I may have made our peace, but imagine the utter humiliation of being discovered by those young bulls after what they’d heard Sasha say to me the day before!
The six African teenage athletes may not have known I was there watching, but my wife and Thomas knew me too well. Even if they didn’t call me out, they had to know I was there lurking behind one or other of Todd and Jill’s shrubs or trees.
After the initial shock of Saturday’s discovery and then the intensity and humiliation of our argument, my Sunday mood was a confusing mix of sanguine, fatalistic and inquisitive.
Of course, there was still a painful ache after our fight and what Sasha had said. But, that just sat in the background, it didn’t block my addictive desire to watch and be ‘involved’—even if that use of ‘involve’ was stretching the word right to the limit.
But at least being there watching was more involved than being sat next door just listening to the sounds of their sounds sex and horseplay drifting through my opened windows.
Even if only two of them knew I was there, sound and sight was a million times better than the loneliness and emotional isolation of just sound alone.
And what I saw was truly eye-opening. Totally different to what I’d seen on Friday night when Sasha had let the two human oak trunks, Sipho and Rambo, fuck her. And then on Saturday when Thomas had taken the lead so the other four youngsters got their turn.
Friday, Saturday had been incredibly intense. Intense and shocking.
But what I saw both times I watched on Sunday was relaxed and almost leisurely.
The boys had gotten over their ‘fuck we can’t believe this is happening phase’ and their ‘let’s compete to see whose best’ phase, and instead they were now just using Sasha’s availability as some kind of pleasurable, sexual utility.
The six of them spending their time evenly between watching TV, chilling in the pool or fucking and talking to the beautiful MILF.
Sunday afternoon and early evening, on both of my spying trips, there was no sign of Thomas—it was just the six young South African rugby players.
When I arrived after lunch, I heard two voices coming from the Rattan canopied daybed Todd and Jill bought just before they’d been posted.
Though in a million years I don’t think they dreamed it would be put to this use—their seemingly conventional neighbor Sasha lying open-legged as Khuts the team captain gave her the benefit of his thick ten inches, while his equally tall buddy Zain held her head in place while her mouth serviced his thick eight inches.
The twin tree trunks, Sipho and Rambo, were happily chilling in the pool—they’d probably fucked Sasha just before I arrived, while I could see the other two (mixed-race Sal and the arrogant-looking Masho) sat watching TV in the living room.
Khuts soon finished—from the way she looked at him, Sasha seemed to have a soft spot for him—then as Khuts and Sasha kissed, Zain took his place. His cock was shorter but thicker than Khuts ten inches, but he didn’t let this influence his attitude.
“Come on Mrs. Spencer… give it up… come all over my big black cock! Show me what Thomas said is true… that you’re a slut for big black cocks! That you can’t get enough of our big African dicks…”
No pushback from Sasha… she was too busy enjoying the pounding from the six-foot-plus young African… she just shut him up by pulling him down for a long and passionate kiss.
I stayed watching for an hour and in that time all six of the youngsters rotated through… seemingly operating in pairs as they switched over, all of them having a turn being sucked by Sasha before they got to fuck her.
My early-evening viewing session followed a similar pattern. Earlier I’d heard Sasha splashing around in the pool, all seven of them cavorting around. But by the time I was back in my vantage point, she’d resumed her role laying on her back on the outdoor daybed servicing Africa’s finest.
Still no sign of Thomas, this time I stayed much longer. Long enough to be more certain of the personalities and sexual preferences of each of the youngsters enjoying my wife.