My Kinky Fiancé Slips Up

When I looked I got a surprise. He'd sent a link to a head shot of a model who I admit looked a lot like Kelly.

"Is he trying to say I look like her? Do I?"

"Maybe after a month of anorexia."

"Are you calling me fat!"

"No, I'm calling her anorexic."

She enlarged a few other pictures of the same girl. "I like her haircut. What do you think, would I look that good?"

"Better. But don't dare cut your hair that short."

She grabbed her phone when a second text message made it chime, and read it aloud. Now he'd invited her to meet up, saying he wasloooongoverdo for a haircut.

"What should I text?"

"Let me think about it."

As I did I went back and finished hanging the door on its track, and she continued to examine the model's haircut. When I was through I asked what she thought of my work.

"It's a little darker than the other."

"Yeah, well I don't know what to do about that. I can't afford to change them both." I hadn't told Kelly how much it actually cost for one six-foot panel of two-way mirror, which was close to six-hundred bucks.

"I set the old glass in the back of the closet. I'll put it back up when you move out."

"So you are actually going to sit in there and watch me."

I shrugged my shoulders. "We'll see."

She wanted to try it out, so she shut herself inside and then yelled for me to take it off. I pulled off my shirt and flexed before the mirror. We switched places and she lifted her shirt, squeezed her tits, licked her lips, and finally pressed her tits quickly against the acrylic mirror before sliding open the door and laughing. What started as a joke had suddenly turned into a real fixture in her bedroom.

"You're not really going to sit in there, are you? Only little bald men do that."

"It does feel pretty weird. You're not helping, either."

"You're a hot guy! Why would you wanna hide yourself? You'renormal!"

"I know, I know! Butnormal? Really?"

I had to remind her she'd pretended I'd watched her and Scottie screw, and claimed that's what made her come! She was quiet. She then grabbed her phone, and jokingly said, "Well, I'll just text Scottie then, and have him come on over for a lay and a hair cut minus the haircut."

I leapt onto the bed, pulled the phone from her hand and gave her a huge kiss.

"I'm not ready for that quite yet."

"Well neither am I! I just don't get it. You're a great lover.You've got a big dick!"

"Yet you still screwed Scottie."

"I only did because of you. First to make you mad, and then..."

"Yeah, and then?"

"And then again because you were so weirdly turned on by it the first time. If I expected you to get hurt over it, I probably could've kept my legs closed!"

"What if I wasn't around anymore, would you screw him again?"

"Probably not."

"Really?" I asked doubtfully.

"I wouldn't. He'd just remind me of you." I pulled her on top of me and she gave me a kiss. "But you don'tneedthis to get off, I know you don't. You're normal!"

"I'm also avoyeur. I grew up with Playboys just like every other kid. I've been to strip clubs and I've watched porn. And there's TV, you can't watch that without being bombarded by hot chicks! For fuck's sake, voyeurism is the number one American past time! The only thing abnormal about me is that I like to watch mygirlfriend. And that's only because I think she's hotter and more awesome than anyone else out there. And shit, I prefer sex, but I like to step back and watch every now and then. And––news flash––you're a bit of an exhibitionist! And what if isn't normal, anyway? Are we really striving for normalcy? I mean what kind of boring fuck-nut gets off on normalcy?"

She seemed shocked when I was through, and I admit I got carried away. She sat up and stared in the mirror awhile. She then picked up her phone and stared at it. "I'm not saying I'll do this. And I'm going to need a week for everything to sink in before I can say anything at all." She then sent Scottie a text for real, telling him to make an appointment for next Friday, but not to get his heart set on anything more than a trim. He quickly texted her back in all caps, reading TRIM! She didn't understand, and I explained, "Like in, 'Get sometrim!'"

"Oh great," she exclaimed, "He's not going to make this easy."

"Nope!"

"Are you as afraid for me as I am?"

She remained a nervous wreck hours after sending the text. She confessed to being afraid of what she'd be if we did this, and I had to promise over and over that none of this would make her a slut. What I didn't tell her, at least not then, is that I had a one karat diamond ring sitting in my nightstand at home, and what I'd hoped to make her was my wife.

***

Two weeks later, as I slept comfortably in her bed, Kelly gently shook me awake. Excitement had overcome her, our real-estate agent just called and needed us to look at the perfect place before Kelly went to work. I looked at my fiancé, who'd grown more beautiful every day since I'd proposed, and sleepily asked, "Won't it be there on Monday when I get back?" Apparently the real-estate agent felt it would be long gone by then, so up I got, and off we drove towards West L.A., at eight-o-clock on a cold December morning.

It happened to be Thursday, which meant we'd been engaged exactly one week, and a whirlwind week at that. After I'd proposed, she'd cancelled all her appointments for the next day, which included Scottie's, and then we flew to Florida to deliver the news to her parents in person. We returned Sunday night, and on Monday morning she was already talking houses.

She'd also learned that Scottie had rescheduled for later in the week. He left a note, and unfolding it, she read, 'My hair hasn't been this long since high school. Please don't cancel!' In a way she felt heart broken for him. That's just the way Kelly is; she wants everyone to share in her happiness, and for Scottie the news her engagement could only be a let down. Whether or not his intentions were less than gallant, she made a poopy face while saying she'd break the news to him when he showed up.

When we reached the house in West L.A., we punched in the code our agent gave us on a little box, which produced the key for the front door. We showed ourselves around, looking at each room, and together imaged a husband and wife painting the kitchen yellow ochre. I held Kelly from behind, and kissed her passionately on her neck, while my hands slid over her black track suit. It fit snug to her waist and tits and she kept it zipped up to her neck, giving her a youthful hip-hop flavor. By the time we reached the bedroom my hands had reached her ass, and I gave her a little shove towards the bed. She turned around as I moved in, and then I hugged her up and gently laid her down on the bed. We fell into a long deep kiss, and my hips began to roll into hers, as I slid her narrow maroon skirt up. Finally, extremely flustered and out of breath, she said, "Not here. Not on their bed. We can't do that."

We got up, and as we were leaving, she said, "Now you've got me all worked up. You're leaving me here until Saturday all by my lonesome, and you go and get me all worked up. You are just cruel."

I suggested we go to her place, but it was already so late I'd need to drop her at work on our way back. Before getting out of the car, she kissed me goodbye, and our tongues gently rumbaed. I finally slid my hand up her thigh and up her slim skirt. I let two fingers gently caress her panty covered parlor, and she let me continue for a moment before finally smiling and breaking our kiss to say, "You aresobad."

"God do I want to fuck you right now!"

"I know," she said, "Me too. I can't believe you'd leave your new fiancé for two days."

"You're so cute when you're suffering. I love how your eyebrows become so melancholy."

"Well, I am melancholy––I'm going to miss you."

When she finally hurried between the parked cars and into the saloon, taking half steps due to her tight narrow skirt, I took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to drive away. I'd be flying out to Sacramento later that afternoon, so that tomorrow I could give a demonstration of production management software to the managers of a latex glove factory, and that seemed like such a useless, awful reason to be apart from Kelly.

Back at her place I sat on her bed and confronted my image in the two-way mirror I'd installed but would never have a use for. Earlier in the week I'd asked her about Scottie, and what she thought might happen when he showed up. All she could say was she'd become engaged, and it felt like I'd given her a clean slate, which was something she planned to cherish. She was absolutely glowing with pride when she said that, and it definitely filled me with pride to hear it. Yet, I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed at the same time. Maybe if I'd waited one more week to propose...

"Fuck it," I finally said to my reflection in the mirror, "I'll drive to Sacramento tonight!" I then parked my car around back and waited in her apartment. It was a long shot, but I had left her wanting more, and she was most likely massaging shampoo through his hair at that very moment. I had a growing hunch about what would happen next, too, and so I took a seat on her couch by the window and kept a hopeful eye out for either of them.

As I later learned, Scottie behaved about the same as last time. She showed off her ring, and he insisted on a celebratory drink at lunch. She wisely refused, but he persisted, saying he'd totally respect her wishes to remain the good little fiancé. He was being sweet and seemed genuinely happy for her, so she eventually agreed, and on their way out she double checked her afternoon clients with Cathy. To her surprise, Cathy hadn't booked a single appointment past Scottie. I find Cathy pretty funny, despite her total betrayal to me, and I can totally hear their conversation going something like-

"What do you mean you didn't book anyone else?"

"Well, I saw Scottie's name and figured I'd save myself the trouble of cancelling on clients all afternoon."

"I'm engaged, Cathy!"

"Yeah..." She'd then lean in close. "But just look at him!"

"I don't believe you! Where's my friend? Youthinkyou're my friend, but you'resonot.You are sooo not my friend!"

"Shut up and thank me or else I'll hire him for your bachelorette party."

At lunch Scottie wasted no time, and badgered her about sleeping with the same man year after year after year. She let him know how wonderful that sounded. He then said something to the effect of, "Oh come on, you have a whole year before the deal is closed. Tell me you're not even the least bit tempted."

"Nope!"

"Seriously, I'm not asking you todoanything, I just want to know that I'm more than a regret."

"I didn't say you were aregret."

"Sure sounds like it to me."

"Why, just because I won't do it again?"

"I'll tell you something, I'm not the big unfeeling jerk you think I am."

"I never thought that, either."

"Man, one of the greatest days if my life turns out to be one of your worst. That hurts."

"Gawd! All right, I admit I enjoyed it when it happened. Yeah, I'll miss those few times, but-"

"That can only mean you're a little tempted, then. If you'll miss it, then you're tempted––at least a little."

"Goddammit, how do you do that to me?"

He laughed at that point, and teased, "I can totally read your face when you are suffering––trying so hard to say no you when you want to screamyes, yes, yes."

"My eyebrows?"

"Yep, your eyebrows."

Needless to say, she ended up letting him drive her back to her apartment. I saw them step out of his Bronco, and quickly sent her a text message, reading, 'I spy with my little eye something beginning with the letter K!' She pulled out her phone when the message chimed and stopped dead in her tracks to read it. She asked Scottie for a moment, and awkwardly typed a message to me on her standard numeric button phone. I read it on my way to the closet, and it sounded angry. 'if u r in apartment im so mad cant belive u dont trust ur fiance i shld do scottie 2 teach u lsson.'

Later she'd tell me about Cathy, and how pissed she was that not only did Cathy and I show no support, we actually aided in her slip-up. Then she'd ask, 'Was I the only one who didn't know I'd be screwing Scottie?'

From inside the closet I heard them moving about the living room for several minutes. Finally I saw him tug her gently into the bedroom, and I could see she was actually suffering over the fact she'd allowed herself to be lead this far. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and in a sincere consoling voice offered, "I understand things are a little different now. You're engaged. So really, if you don't want to go through with this, I swear I won't push it any further."

"Oh no you don't," she sternly replied. "You don't get to bring me this far, waiting until were sitting on my bed, and then ask me if I really want to go through with this. Nope, you don't get to be the good guy, not anymore."

"If you think you're here because-"

"I'm here because you wouldn't have it any other way! I'm so mad at you, and Cathy, and... Dammit!" She then heavily sighed in defeat, and stood defiant, looking both cute and grumpy.

"You're right! I'm sorry."

He pulled her onto his lap, so she faced him with her knees on the bed and her slim skirt bunched up almost to her panties. He wrapped his big arms around her and pressed her against himself tightly. "It's cool. I know I'm an asshole. But you're so fucking hot I can't help it." She finally broke with a half smile, gave him sad puppy dog eyes, and hugged him back.

A kiss followed.

The zipper on her track suit came down. His shoes hit the wall. Her track suit sleeves let go of her graceful hands, and he tossed it towards the mirrored closet. His shirt landed on her pillow. Her ponytail silkily slithered through the collar of her shirt, which had been swiftly removed and tossed onto the pillow next to his. Her tits flattened against his pecks, and then he fell back into a supine position with her still straddling his lap.

"Shit!" He stopped and slapped the bed. "I left my mack jackets out there in my coat pocket."

She hit his chest as he was getting up. "Put on my Radiohead CD while you're up."

"Which one?"

"The 'Karma Police' one––something-computer."

After he left, she slid herself further up the bed and lay facing the mirror with her head on her shoulder, naked from the waist up. Her breasts fell gently to the side, and her tan departed with summer so her pale flesh now accentuated her tiny nipples into a vibrant warm pink.

She whispered to me on the other side of the mirror, "Are you there?"

I didn't answer––finding it more intoxicating to maintain the mystery––a true voyeur.

With a vindictive demon lurking in her cerulean blue eyes she unzipped her skirt for me. "If you are in there, I am so pissed. And I hope you know what you're doing, too. Just don't freak out when starts showing off. I can handle him fine, so don't feel like you have to come out of there."

She lifted her hips and pulled her skirt down, leaving only her light blue panties to prevent unadulterated nakedness. The music started in the other room, then her voice weakened and dropped an octave, and she quickly said, "Oh god, I can feel your eyes. I know you're there. I'm going to cum myself crazy for you!"

He walked up to where she lay on the bed, unzipped his jeans and let them fall. She sat up on the bed, and nudged his boxers towards his ankles. Unfortunately for me, his back was to the mirror as she leaned over and apparently took his cock into her mouth. I could see her hand on his thigh, and then his ass clenched, which left little doubt as to what was going on. Occasionally I'd see her ponytail swing out to the side, which not only made the fact she was blowing him concrete, it revealed just how fast her head bobbed. I also heard the occasional lip smack and a garbled groan over the music. She'd blown him through three soft songs, and the fourth track deepened in emotion, sounding sorrowful and desperate, and culminating in an almost death like escape. It binged on passion, as did the sight before my eyes, his shadowed ass, with my fiancé doing the unthinkable on the other side. It was heartbreaking to take in, yet something felt so right about letting her go. And after a few more minutes the instruments quieted, leaving only the singer to trail off with, "We hope that you choke... that you choke. We hope that you choke..."

He then climbed on top of her, her legs parting to cradle his hips between them, and as he penetrated her, 'Karma Police' came on, Kelly's favorite song. Other than her legs, not much of her body was visible. He pressed his body over her, kissing her cheek, and I could see in her face that she was being entered. The one blue eye not obscured by his shoulder,opened wide, and then she gave the mirror, me, a delightful satisfied smile, letting me know part of him now resided inside her. As the rolling movement of his ass increased to match the tempo of the music, I watched her mouth the words, "I lost myself," over and over. It was plainly evident she'd had a beautiful moment she'd never forget, under the spell of music, a generously sized cock, and the heart of her soul mate thumping just a few feet away.

Some minutes later he held her knees in the crook of his arms. Now I had a show. All that cock pulling out from the profile of her ass, and all that cock going right back in. She was whimpering, and not with me. It was bitterly sweet watching her get defiled before my eyes, knowing that from then on her innocence would be fake. My wife to be would be pure in appearance only, and we'd share our juicy little secret of how hungry her pussy could be. Something lost, but something gained––a pussy so hungry it could devour a football team. And at that moment, she probably had the good spirits to do it.

He fucked her harder, a flat hard pelvis bumping soft ass, her limp legs helplessly tangled in his arms, tits jerking, loud bursts of breath, and her eyes on a heavenly journey beyond their lids. Pumping harder still, and he released a leg to hook a finger into her mouth, and then replaced it with his thumb, saying "Show me what an erogenous zone this really is, baby." She began to suck it, lips protruding around his fat knuckle, and he picked up an even greater tempo, so that as the CD finished out, the squeaking shaking bed completely took over.

She searched for me in the mirror, with a desperate look in her eye. Oddly enough, it felt like she was trying to reach out for me, but I had no idea what for. Reassurance? Safety––he was fucking her pretty crazy right then? An audience?

He caught her staring, and said, "Goddamn, that's beautiful, huh? Look at you suck my thumb. Look at me doggin' your pussy like a mother-fucker. Goddamn you can take cock, Kelly. I mean,goddamn, I'm fucking hitting it, it's like a front row seat to your own porno." He wasn't lying, either. He went to town and she was a trooper.

I'd been gently masturbating in my dark world, feeling so strange watching them as they watched themselves. He hooked his arm back around her leg again, elevating her ass off the bed, and allowing himself straighter posture. He must have been close, and he laid on the speed like an Olympic finish line awaited. His balls were beating her ass and his thrusts were so strong that her whole body was getting vulnerably rocked. "God your big! Oh fuck, Scottie, fuck me. Keep on fucking me. Oh god, so big, so fucking big." He kept at his rate, hanging on the verge for an extended amount of time. The cords on his neck sprang up, and the muscles on his back gained definition until it looked like a pile of flat rocks. The Radiohead vibe was long gone, and his brow dripped sweat. He just kept slamming Kelly with brute force, her juice glazing his over-ambitious cock until it was just a flashing glare of light.