Careful, He Might Hear Us

"Mmmmm," he says, taking his turn to purr. "So nice. Can't remember the last time I came so hard. And so much."

It takes a few sends for the thing he just said to penetrate her orgasmic haze. "Wait a minute," she says. "Did you pull out?"

He looks at her.

"You didn't, did you? You fucking came in me," she hisses in an intense whisper. "My husband's gonna know. Shit, shit, shit." He sits back, and she feels his cock slide out with a sound like a popping cork. She reaches down and feels his cum dripping from her pussy. "We have to..."

But now the masseur is getting up off the bed. He steps into his stretchy pants and yanks them up to his waist.

"It's been my pleasure to serve you," he says, flashing that fucking smile, again. "I hope you give me five stars on the app."

"Wait, don't..."

He's already opening the door and going into the hall. She hears him call a quick greeting to her husband, who immediately steps into the room.

"Wow," John says, staring at his wife, stretched out on the bed, her nude body glistening with oil. "You look great. I've never seen you this flushed. Must be true what they say about how massage helps the blood flow."

She sits up. "Hi, honey," she says, trying to sound chipper. Like what just happened didn't happen. "I'm gonna take a quick shower... get rid of the, um, massage oil," she says, swinging her feet onto the floor to make a break for the bathroom.

He blocks her way. Grabs her shoulders. "Can't that wait?" He kisses her, passionately. His tongue probes her mouth. He reaches down between her legs. "God, you're so wet," he says. He sounds happy.

"Well, naturally," she says. "I'm excited you're home."

"Yeah, me too," he says, with a naughty smile. He lays her back on the bed and begins slowly kissing his way down her neck, across her breasts, going lower on her stomach, kiss by kiss. When he lands between her legs, his tongue flicks out and starts licking her pussy.

Watching his head go down, she feels her anxiety rise. It's like she's already being punished for letting the masseur fuck her. Her husband's tongue on her clit feels magical, but she can't let him taste the other man's load.

"Oh, John," she says. "I wanna feel you inside me."

He growls, excited. For a moment she believes she's about to pull this off. Then, suddenly, he stops. He lifts his head. "You taste...different."

"What do you mean?" She tries to fake a laugh, but it sounds hollow. She twists her hips to get his face away from her cum-drenched cunt, but his hands grip her thighs, and she can't move.

"Different?" she says, her voice nervously going up an octave. "How?"

"Like there's something else in here."

"That's crazy. Oh, hey. Maybe some of the massage oil dripped in. You know, he gave me a full body massage, like you ordered."

John sits up and glares at her. "Don't bullshit me." He shoves his fingers into her pussy, scoops them out, and holds them up to her face. They're covered in white goo. "I know semen when I see it." He sounds angry. She can't meet his gaze. "Did you have sex with your massage therapist?"

She stares at the bed sheets. When at last she answers, her voice is barely above a whisper, "Yes."

He stands up. "Lemme get this straight. Were you fucking him just now while I was outside the door?"

She nods. "Can you forgive me?"

He says nothing for a long moment. Then he smiles. "Of course, babe."

"Really?" she asks. She looks at him like she's expecting a trap. Why is he letting her off so easily?

"Definitely." Then his face darkens. "But..." He stares at her until she finally looks him in the eye. "You know what we have to do."

Now she understands. She nods again. She reaches into the drawer of the bedside table and gets out a small but solid paddle. Hands it to him like a gift.

He sits on the bed. "Over my knee," he says, his tone no longer angry, exactly, but no bullshit, either. She does as instructed. "Ten strokes. Fair?" He takes her silence for agreement.

"You count," he says, and without warning gives her ass a whack.

"One," she says, squirming.

"Where'd you fuck him?" he asks. Then he smacks her again.

She gasps. "Two." She sucks in a breath, then spits out her answer through gritted teeth. "Here. On the bed."

Third stroke. He's not playing around. "Three," she says, wincing.

"Missionary? Doggy? Were you on top?" He administers the next blow.

She whimpers. "Four." He holds the paddle aloft as he waits for her answer.

"Missionary," she says, her face flushing in pain or embarrassment or both. He gives her now-pink ass another smack. "Five," she says, a labored grunt.

"Did you cum?" He brings down the paddle down again before she can answer.

"Fuck!" It comes out of her involuntarily.

"You know that any further outbursts will add more strokes."

"Yes," she says.

"Yes, you know, or yes, you came?

"Both."

"Do we have to start again?" he says.

"No," she says quickly. "Six. That was six."

He nods approval and gives her ass the next stroke, harder than the others. Her butt cheeks glow red now.

"Seven," she says, when she finally finds her voice.

"Good girl," he says. "How many times?" He brings the paddle down. The slap echoes in the room.

"Goddamnit," she says, choking back tears. Not to be defeated, she spits out, "Eight."

He gives her a moment to catch her breath. "Did you hear my question?" he asks.

She braces for a blow that doesn't come. "Twice," she says. "He made me cum twice."

His next strike lands lower, moving away from her hot flesh and into new territory.

She moans. "Nine."

"How?" he asks before administering the tenth stroke.

She sucks in her breath but manages not to cry out. "Ten," she says. "First time he fingered me. Then I came all over his cock."

He paddles her ass again. She yelps in surprise. Looks up at him. "Hey! That was ten!"

"That's for having two orgasms."

He lays aside the paddle and picks up a jar of lotion from the bedside table. Dipping his fingers into the cool cream, he smears some onto her glowing, hot ass, gently rubbing it over her bright red skin.

She moans. "That's nice. Thank you."

He slips his fingers between her legs. "Jesus, you're wet."

She giggles. Then she sits up in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. They kiss.

She reaches down to rub his cock through his stretchy pants. "Oooo," she says, sounding delighted. "I can't believe you're ready to go again so soon."

"Try me." She stands up and yanks the fabric down to his knees. His dick points straight up. She climbs on and impales herself, savoring the erotic sweetness of his swollen cock head plowing toward her uterus and the way her ass cheeks sting against his thighs.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she rides up and down on his shaft. She puts her lips to his ear and whispers, "Best role play ever."

"You were great," he says. "'You can't fuck me with my husband right outside the door!'" he says, mimicking her panicked cries.

They both laugh. "I didn't sound like that," she says, grinding on his dick, coating it with her juices.

"You did. Just like that. You deserve an Oscar." She kicks up the pace, loving the friction of her clit is against his cock.

"Only one thing, though..." he says, his breath becoming heavy.

"What?"

"Next time, I get the massage."

She smiles. "So I'm the sexy masseuse? You got it, honey."

With that, she stops talking, because she feels her next orgasm getting close.