The Affair

I have watching her for some time now. Following her. I need to find out where she goes, what she's been doing and who she's with. The bitch!

She promised. Promised to love me; honour me and obey me. So how can this be right? How can she betray me like this - with him? I've seen her before with him of course - caught them together - but before it's always seemed so innocent, so natural. A Bar; a restaurant; the mall, his arm around her or holding hands as if they hadn't a care in the world. But this time it's different. I can see them through the window. The window of his home. The bitch!

It's dark now. I have to turn my coat collar up against the cold. A light drizzle begins to fall and dampen my hair. I burrow further into the shrubbery, powerful field glasses to my eyes as I study the drape less windows. They act as if they do nothing wrong, no sin being committed. They seem alone, unwashed dishes on the table to be left until morning, I suppose, as they curl up together on the sofa watching TV. I can just hear the muffled sounds from the television as the show continues.

His arm is draped around her shoulder, her head resting on his chest. She kicks off her shoes and puts stockinged feet up on the sofa. They kiss suddenly and cuddle closer. My blood boils as I watch her flagrant display of betrayal.

Another kiss, this time more passionate, somehow more urgent. His hand moves to the back of her head his fingers running through her long, black hair. I feel the rain sting my face as it persists, mingling with my falling tears as I watch them together.

I catch my breath almost choking as I see his hand move down and cup one of her breasts through the material of her white blouse. I see her office jacket thrown casually over the back of the sofa and suddenly realise that she has gone to him directly from her work. Her clothes are the same that she always wears to work and that I know so well: white silk blouse, black skirt and black jacket. I know that the stockings she is wearing will be "hold-ups" and am almost certain that her bra and panties will match each other.

Their embrace continues as his hand further explores her covered breast and begins to slowly undo the buttons at the front of her blouse. I want to scream out for him to stop. He should not be doing this with her. She should not be allowing it. She belongs to me; always has and always will!

The buttons of her blouse are open now and I find it increasingly more difficult to control by breathing. I have to be quiet. Nobody must know. Her bra is white lace, I can see it quite clearly. I can also see that she is becoming excited; her chest heaving and her lips clamped tightly to his. He moves suddenly, maybe for a better position and I get a clearer view. She leans forward and allows him to remove the blouse completely. He does so and at the same time releases the catch at the back of her bra and pulls it forward quickly. They both seem to laugh as the garment falls away and the smooth roundness of her naked breasts is exposed to my gaze - and to his! The bitch!

But the laughing is short lived. His hands begin to massage the firm orbs, gently pulling and rolling the cherry-red nipples between his fingers. Her mouth is open and her head lolls back against the sofa as she allows this obscene intrusion. I can see that she is breathing hard now that their kiss is broken. I watch as his head moves forward; down towards her trembling breasts. His mouth opens and she looks down to see a nipple slowly disappear between his masculine lips. Her own lips part in a silent gasp as he tongues and sucks the hard buds; teasing her, enticing her towards climax

My anger at her infidelity is rampant, but I also feel something else, something different. A stirring in my loins indicates my own excitement. I can now understand the attraction of voyeurism - it's almost like watching a private pornographic movie but more intense - and for me, more uncomfortable! I let my hand fall to my crotch and squeeze. I'm hard, very hard and try to ease my erection into a more comfortable position.

I look back and realise that things have progressed. His shirt is now off revealing a strong, muscular torso. She raises her hips from the sofa, giggling again as his strong hands slowly ease her skirt down her long, smooth legs. I was right! White, silk panties that matched the bra and hold-up stockings. I commend myself on knowing her so well.

His hands are now on her panties. I look on with growing excitement as his thumbs hook into the waistband and roll the garment slowly over thighs, calves, shins, ankles and, finally, dainty feet. But for her stockings she is naked. Gracefully her legs spread as she once again settles herself back on the sofa and awaits his touch. His head dips slowly and I hold my breath realising that he is going to eat her in front of me - for my benefit and pleasure. I realise suddenly, that it is pleasure that I am experiencing - pleasure, excitement and lust mixed with underlying anger.

Her hands are at her own breasts now as his head bobs up and down between her spread thighs. I can see the expression of pure, animal lust on her face as she climbs higher and higher towards an inevitable climax. Her toes, encased in her stockings, rise up to points arching her insteps. Her thighs tremble. Her knees shake. Her black hair is thrown from side to side and she closes her eyes as the orgasm builds and rocks her lithe body. I can hear the sounds of her cries and screams even outside as she climaxes over and over again.

I can feel my own erection - my cock - pressing urgently against my pants. The cool night air and the drizzle do nothing to reduce my arduous feelings. Again I squeeze and readjust myself, but it's a futile exercise, I'm too hard. A thought strikes me. Why not take it out and relieve the pressure? If she can cum then why not me? The chill breeze feels good against the bare skin of my shaft and I hold myself tightly enjoying the feeling as my glans throbs and twitches in my palm.

Looking back again I can see that she is still reposed on the sofa. Her legs are still well spread and as she breaths hard I can see the pink folds of her labia glisten with moisture. He is standing over her. His fingers gripping and lowering the zip of his pants. He shimmies the pants down his legs together with shorts. A pang of jealousy stings me as I see he's much larger than I. I focus the glasses again. Yes, much larger - at least nine or ten inches in length and as thick as my wrist.

He's indicating his excited condition to her and smiling. She's smiling as well and shuffles forward on the sofa to sit before him. I know what is to happen and I have to look. Her red painted lips part gracefully and her fingers grip his shaft, pulling him towards her. She teases him as he teased her before. Her pink tongue darts out and swipes over his throbbing cock head. I see him shiver slightly and close his eyes in ecstasy. Again and again she teasingly licks the tip; raining kisses down onto the purple flesh but not yet allowing him access to her mouth. He is becoming restless, frustrated. His hands move to the back of her head and entwine in the jet black tresses gently forcing her forward. His hips move urgently, bucking, as she relents and opens her mouth wide. His size is difficult to accommodate but with some work he manages to push about three inches of his cock into her.

My own tool throbs as I massage myself, watching as he begins to hump himself into her mouth. I begin to feel a little sorry for her but the look of lustful enjoyment on her face is undeniable. How can she be enjoying the assault so much when it's his cock inside her mouth rather than mine?

And yet my anger now takes a second place to my lust. I can feel my balls contracting and know that I have passed that critical point. I want to cry out as the seed spurts from the swollen, engorged tip, but I know I must be silent. My body shakes and convulses my vital fluid spills forth and I am nearly sated. Nearly but not entirely.

He wants her now and the feeling appears to be mutual. She releases his swollen manhood from her mouth and again lies back on the sofa legs spread almost painfully wide. Her arms beckon and welcome him as he moves between her legs, his erection glistening and hard. They couple easily. She seems to gasp as he penetrates her vagina, inch by inch sinking his weapon into her body. Soon he is buried completely and lifts her legs up onto his shoulders. He begins slowly. In and out, deeper and deeper with each long thrust. Her stockinged feet drum a tattoo against his back as he begins to build up speed gripping her butt cheeks with his hands and pulling her towards him with each downward lunge.

I can hear sounds around me and slowly realise that they are no longer coming from the adulterous couple behind the window. I know that someone is there and I know I should run; take off before I'm caught, but I feel inexorably drawn to the culmination of the scene before me. I have to watch more, have to see them finish.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing, buddy!"

The voice is harsh and authoritative. I know I must try and run, escape, evade discovery. But it's too late now.

In the lounge he's cumming. He's withdrawn and I see his semen pouring from his weapon just as I feel a heavy hand on my arm, twisting it behind me. I turn slowly, apprehensively and realise that the hand belongs to a large uniformed cop. I'm dragged unceremoniously from the shrubbery to face a second, equally large cop. I don't understand. I'm treated as a criminal, a pervert. What have I done wrong?

"You know, Mr. Pendle, you should really close the drapes if you're gonna do that!" The first cop said.

John Pendle looked sheepishly down at his bare feet and pulled his gown tightly around him. "Yeah, sorry officer, my wife and I just didn't think. Who was he anyway, just some pervert getting his rocks off?"

"Said his name was Drake. Bill Drake. Seems he just got out of hospital. Some kind of breakdown I think. Kept muttering away about his wife, June, having an affair."

"Ex-wife," said June Pendle quickly as she gripped her husband's arm. "We were married for a short time, but we had problems. We divorced about ten years ago! He's been in hospital ever since. You see, he stalked me for months after we parted and now it looks like it's going to start all over again!"

The tears started to flow as she turned to her husband for comfort. "Oh my God, John! Will he ever leave us alone?"