Corporate Bodies Pt. 04: Fidelity

I watched as Andy climbed almost casually onto the bed and positioned himself between Yvonne's helplessly parted thighs, lining his hips against her pillow-raised vulva.

"You really want it? You want me to stick my cock in your cunt?"

Another muffled moan of anticipation.

"Your clit's pumped up and swollen, you know it's going to hurt like Hell?"

The moan that followed sounded almost desperate.

"Well, if you're sure, let's see how this feels."

I watched as he leaned over her, taking his weight on one hand, the other directing the head of his cock. Andy's muscular body was now between the window and Yvonne; all I could see was his strong back, tight buttocks and thighs and one of her chubby spread legs either side.

There was a movement of hip hips followed by a louder moan as if of pain.

A moment later, I saw the muscles of his buttocks contract, his hips were thrust forward and a loud wail from Yvonne filled the room.

"Nnnnnnngggghhhhh!

Yvonne's muffled cry as Andy penetrated her pumped, grossly swollen pussy was rich, full and passionate. This time there could be no mistaking the pleasure she was feeling as his long, thick shaft was thrust deep into her plump body. He paused halfway, withdrew slightly, then with a flexing of his buttocks, drove his full length into my friend's body until his pubic hair ground against her protruding, engorged clitoris.

The squeal that emerged from Yvonne's mouth as her distorted, hugely swollen nub was first touched, then tickled, then crushed by Andy's pubic bone could have broken glass, despite her gag. The force and violence of the spasm that rocked her went beyond anything I had seen even in porn films. Her whole body bucked wildly, first downwards as if to pull her sensitive parts away from the invading cock, then wildly upwards, driving her vulva powerfully upwards against the huge organ on which it was impaled.

Andy didn't move, he simply held his body firm and still as again and again, Yvonne drove herself violently and uncontrollably up and down against his motionless shaft, fucking herself on his thick pole, her spasms of orgasm getting more and more extreme with each passing moment.

Only once her bucking had subsided a little did he begin to thrust, slowly and steadily into her vagina. I watched spellbound as her body began to flex, raising her head off the pillow as far as her tethered arms would allow.

Andy's pace and power began to build; Yvonne's face contorted, and her eyes closed tightly as wave after wave of climax rocked her body. I stared open mouthed at the reflected scene before me, the risk of discovery no longer in my mind. There, on the bed merely yards away from where I hid, my wife's best friend was thrashing on the bed, pulling wildly at the restraints that bound her as my Boss pounded her helpless, bound body.

I could see she was beginning to tire, but Andy gave her no respite, thrusting faster and deeper into her body, forcing her heavy thighs wider still. Yvonne's head was lolling from side to side, exhausted by her many orgasms but Andy was relentless and merciless.

"Mmmmggghhhh! Mnnnnggghhh!"

Even from where I crouched, I could tell that Yvonne's voice, though muffled by the scarlet gag, was pleading. Given her exhausted condition I supposed she was begging him to slow down or stop, but how could I possibly know?

Whatever her intention, Andy's response was to begin the slow speed-up towards his own climax. The session was going to end and end soon. The wet slapping sounds in the room grew louder and faster, the bed creaked as if in pain.

As Andy's thrusts became the short, sharp stabs that I knew heralded a messy climax and copious ejaculation, I heard Yvonne starting to orgasm one last, exhausted time.

Before my watching eyes, her body flexed, her head rose from the mattress, her eyes flew open...

And she looked straight through the gap in the blind and directly into my watching eyes!

For a split second our eyes locked together, her pupils huge, dark and glazed. My heart thumped in my chest and my breathing stopped dead.

I froze, desperately hoping it hadn't happened, but knowing without doubt that it had.

And then the spell was broken as with a loud grunt, Andy's rhythm broke, and he began to cum in Yvonne's plump, open, fecund body. As his hips slammed violently into my friend's inner thighs and pubic mound, her eyes rolled back in her head and a long, low, final wail emerged from the lips of the woman being inseminated beneath him.

There was no time to inch my way back along the ridge to the landing and escape the way I had arrived. There was only one possible route; over the balcony's edge. I looked into the darkness below. I knew there was a grassed lawn beneath me, but the drop must have been twenty feet.

The sounds coming from the bedroom were fading as their climaxes receded. If Yvonne really had seen me, it might only be a matter of moments before I was confronted by two angry lovers. There was no option other than to jump.

I climbed over the balcony rail, crouched as low as I could holding onto the uprights then dropped like a stone.

Chapter Nineteen

Twenty minutes later I limped up the driveway and let myself quietly into our house so as not to wake the kids or Amanda's babysitting parents, shedding my muddy shoes in the hallway and padding upstairs in my socks. My left ankle had been badly twisted in the fall, but mind was still spinning so wildly from all I had seen and could not avoid imagining, that I barely noticed.

Once in the bedroom, I undressed and donned my sleep shorts, then cleaned my teeth before sliding under the duvet, my tummy alive with nerves.

For a long time, I lay on my back, alone in our marital bed, the soft bedside light glowing romantically. My head was buzzing, quite incapable of sleep.

What on earth had just happened? And what on earth was happening now?

On the eve of what should be the greatest triumph of my working life, all I could think of were the evening's bizarre events.

There were so many unanswered questions; about Yvonne and Andy; about Yvonne and Mike; about my wife and Andy; about my wife and Pamuk; about myself. The only good thing was that I hadn't stormed straight into Andy's apartment as I had originally planned. The thought of what might have occurred then sent a shiver down my spine.

Most importantly, where the Hell was Amanda now? Her mobile went straight to voicemail and, after all I had just seen, I knew for certain she was not with Andy.

And what in God's name had I just seen? Had I really seen our friend of so many years, the woman with whose family we had been on holiday so many times, tied to a bed, her body humiliated and exquisitely tortured, climaxing wildly at Andy's hands and in his cock?

And had Yvonne really seen me through the window, or had it just been her orgasm-glazed eyes and my own guilty imagination?

And even if she hadn't seen me, how on earth could I face her and Mike tomorrow knowing what I now knew?

My mind raced as a cold realization washed over me.

What about Mandy's appointments with Andy? Had my own sweet wife been in Yvonne's situation too? Had Mandy's long, slim legs been tied to the bed like Yvonne's, her slender thighs spread wide, exposing her most private places for Andy's pleasure?

Had my wife's small, firm, pointed breasts suffered the grip of those evil-looking clamps? Had the teats that had fed our children felt the merciless grip of those steel teeth? I remembered clearly how sore her breasts had been one Thursday morning; the thought made my chest ache.

And dear God, had Mandy's tiny clitoris been sucked into that glass tube too, drawing it cruelly out until it protruded long and proud from between her labia? Had the sweet nub I had licked and sucked so often been abused and tormented as badly as Yvonne's?

And then, with her clit massively engorged, had my sweet, beautiful wife reached orgasm as freely, frequently and uncontrollably as I had just seen comfortable, homely Yvonne do? Had Mandy climaxed through the pain as she had been penetrated by Andy's massive cock too?

Sleep was impossible! There was nothing I could do except lie there and wait for my wife to return.

***

It was a little after two in the morning. I was lying, still awake in the darkness of our bedroom when I heard the purr of an expensive car's engine as it pulled into the driveway. Its door was quietly opened and there was a low murmur of voices before it was closed again softly. The car's engine rose in tone and as the sound of the departing vehicle faded away, I heard the house's front door being carefully opened and closed, then the sound of feet padding up the stairs.

A moment later the bedroom door was silently pushed back and a dark figure slipped into the room. I lay motionless, breathing slowly as if asleep, though sleep was the last thing I could do right then. My half open eyes were well adjusted to the low light and I could see Amanda approaching the bed on tiptoe, shedding her designer clothes as she came closer to my still, apparently sleeping body.

I felt her rummaging under the pillow, drawing out her pyjamas then wriggling quickly into them before slipping silently and cautiously into the bed alongside me. She lay very still as if listening carefully.

I breathed slowly and deeply, pretending to be asleep, not knowing whether it was Amanda or Mandy lying next to me, afraid of learning what had delayed her so long, and yet desperate to know every sordid detail.

After a few minutes the aroma of recent sex washed over me. It was faint, and half concealed by the smell of shower gel, but to my expert nose, was unmistakeable.

The aroma from her body announced without doubt that my wife had been fucked and fucked hard. The faint but distinctive taint to her breath told me that she had reached orgasm recently and frequently.

But who with? I swore silently in agonised frustration.

She couldn't have been with Andy because I had seen him with Yvonne in his apartment. It must have been someone else. Someone at the reception? Someone who disappeared about the same time she had vanished?

I thought hard, but only one name came to mind.

Surely not! Surely it couldn't have been that slippery fat bastard, Pamuk?

But why would she do it? Why would a woman as tall, slim, beautiful and intelligent as my wife let a short, overweight, lecherous old man fuck her? And even if she did, could a man like that really make her cum as hard as she obviously just had?

I rolled onto my back and felt Amanda's head turn towards me, staring as if trying to decide if I was awake. Not feeling strong enough or clear enough in my mind for this encounter, I forced myself to breathe slowly and deeply again, sucking in lungfuls of the sex-infused air in the room.

Eventually, apparently satisfied I was asleep, her head fell back onto the pillow and her body relaxed. Shortly afterwards I heard her breathing match mine but unlike me, she was really asleep.

I lay listening for hours, my tummy churning, a pain in my chest and tears of frustration forming in my eyes.

What had she done? Why had she done it?

And why did the thought make me feel so massively aroused?