Chapter 13 #4
Then a few hours later—perfectly times to coincide with lunch with my clients—I’d get a rapid barrage of images showing them back in the hotel.
Images, not video… the last image was always the same, Sasha impaled on Thomas’s monster cock in on or other of their favorite positions.
Maybe Sasha riding him cowgirl, his hands squeezing her boobs.
Maybe Sasha on her knees taking it from behind.
Or their most common position—good old-fashioned missionary, Thomas’s dark body prone between my wife’s pale thighs, the two of them kissing passionately while his long, thick cock worked its magic.
Then, after another few hours of silence, a total different type of image would start arriving.
Finally, safe for work images. To anyone not in the know, just sweet, romantic images of a attractive young mixed-race couple out sightseeing in one of Korea’s many historic sites.
Sometimes selfies, sometimes obviously taken by another tourist. Probably thinking how loved-up the attractive and well-matched young couple was, blissfully unaware that the one half of the couple was married to someone other than her loved-up partner.
And then—as if taunting me, forcing me to stay awake to one in the morning—they’d get back from sightseeing in their early afternoon for a few more hours of fucking and making love.
This time—knowing I was back in the safety of my hotel—Sasha and I would have a short video chat before Thomas took great pleasure dragging her away to bed.
Always leaving the line open, so I could see what he could have and what was forbidden to me until he and other pilot flew my woman back to me.
The fact it was a video rather than a handful of images making it the highlight of my perverted day. Almost as if they were using it like a Pavlovian reward to train me, to reward me for staying up until the early hours when the demands of my job meant I should have been asleep many hours before.
Couple in nightclub, couple fucking, couple sightseeing followed by that highlight video connecting then watching them fuck and make love.
Four different types of active communication—the fifth and some ways most mind-bending of communications was the long hours of passive non-communication when they sent nothing.
When I was left in the dark. Only able to extrapolate from the few images they had sent as to what they were doing now.
I knew they did it intentionally—when I challenged them, they just smiled and confirmed it—all the images and the video sent at the start of the four parts of the day. Needling me and forcing my imagination to run wild as to what the two of them were doing the many hours when they sent nothing.
Three times each month I had to endure this bittersweet torment.
It was like getting three of those time-lapsed films.
But instead of showing some dessert plant growing and blooming or some skyscraper rising into the sky, each two day film showed the deepening of a relationship that after many months was suddenly accelerating rapidly.
And if these carefully constructed time-lapsed films weren’t enough, the timings of when their return flights nearly always meant that the gray shading to show Sasha was back in Detroit was marked up with the initial ‘T’ rather than ‘J’.
If Sasha hadn’t worked on me to gift those three Thursday and three Sunday nights to Thomas, Sasha and I would have been back together for two of the three nights she returned from Korea, with only work keeping us apart for her third return.
But as she had managed to get the kinky idiot part of me to overrule the sensible part of me, on Sasha’s returning nights each month I was O for 3.
My stupidity and addiction meaning each day she returned the evening, night and following morning was marked with a T not a J.
Which meant these three parts of the month were both the most painful and exciting times of the month.
I’d already endured the slow-motion pain-pleasure torture of two days of their time-lapsed romance and love games.
And now—except when they arrived back mid-week—I had to endure the extra torment of knowing Sasha preferred extra time to tease me and be with Thomas rather than the wholesome pleasure of reconnecting with her husband.
The whole thing was a high-octane, high-reward, high-pain game… and the only thing that kept me sane were those Friday, Saturday and Monday nights when Sasha and I could curl up together and I had her undivided attention.
Without those nights and the way she’d always let me know just how much she loved me, the rest of the game we were playing would have been too much.
We’d already had some really intense, scary experiences with Andre and then Benson, but without her loving reassurance on these special nights, the game we were playing now would definitely have been too much.
But as we entered the third month of playing our Incheon game, what I didn’t know was that three separate thunder claps were going to force a final set of changes. A set of changes that happened long before the extra twelve months of Thomas that Sasha had begged me to give her.