Sarah's Descent Ch. 02

"You were right, I'm a massive hoe!"

My wife Sarah had barged into the bedroom, her eyes wild, her breath ragged, her clothes stained with the seed of another man. Having just witnessed what she'd done behind my back, I should've agreed with her -- but I couldn't.

"Surely you're overreacting?" I said.

"No, I'm not! Not this time!" she wailed, each word utterly dripping with distress. Sarah looked as if she was about to burst into tears, and I almost stood up and hugged her -- but the cum on her sleeve and pants put an end to that idea. I offered her a sympathetic smile instead.

My wife then described in little detail what had gotten her so upset. I wasn't going to share I'd already seen her lascivious deeds with my own eyes, oh no, and I certainly wasn't going to point out that I'd jerked off during it.

"A-And after I gave him the phone, h-he kind of... gave me a look," Sarah shamefully explained. Her cheeks had turned scarlet over the course of her tale, her voice receding to a mere whisper. "A-And he told me how, um, how h-hard I'd made him during the movie. And I don't know what took hold of me after that, I w-wasn't thinking clearly, but I decided I h-had to help him because it was my fault, so I... went inside with him..."

"And I'm a massive hoe who doesn't deserve you!" Sarah howled out of the blue. "Because I jerked him off, and he came on me, and now I'm all sticky and gross and kicking myself for being such an idiot!"

Deep breaths, I reminded myself. Tranquility comes from within.

"I mean, I kinda sent you into the lion's den," I said as calmly as I could, what with my heart thumping as it was. "And I even got you worked up before all of that. I'm at least a bit to blame."

"But honey, you're not!" she cried. "You have every right to be mad at me, a-and you should! You should be mad! Be mad at me!"

I shook my head. "That's not gonna happen. Look, babe, if you're feeling so guilty, how about we just lay down some ground rules? Then we go forward with a clean slate. No blame involved."

Sarah's eyes widened in surprise as she emphatically nodded in agreement. "A clean slate. Yes." It was all she wanted. "Give it to me."

So I set out the new rules for her, simple as they were. Firstly, my wife shouldn't be jerking off other men in secret. Secondly, she probably shouldn't be getting fingerblasted by them, either. Lastly, if she could follow the other two rules, I agreed to explore her fantasies with her in a healthy manner. I dubbed these rules as 'common sense', and they were about as binding as a non-aggression pact between tyrants.

"That s-sounds... completely reasonable," Sarah whimpered. "A-And Rob, you're just gonna... not say anything?"

I shook my head. "I'll talk to Rob in the morning. Not to blame him, more to let him know that you recognized your mistakes and apologized. He'll probably do the same."

Sarah gulped. "Wow, you're so... that's so... unbelievably understanding of you," and gasped for air. "I-I don't deserve you, Tom."

"Keep telling yourself that."

"I'd hug you right now if I-I wasn't covered in R-Rob's, err --"

I glanced at her butt. "Yeah. You're getting it all over the sheets, by the way."

Sarah popped off of the bed in an instant, her hair disheveled, her face flushed, her eyes red and puffy and oh so worthy of my sympathy. "I-I'm going to the shower, um. I love you," she sniveled.

"Love you too, babe. Love you too."

~~ ** ~~ ** ~~

As I promised Sarah I would, I went down to the guesthouse early in the morning in hopes of intercepting Rob before he left on his two-week-long trip. Fortunately the lights were still on, and in the living room I spied my friend packing what was left of his things. He had his duffle and suitcase ready to go, the same bags he brought with him when he moved in.

I rang the doorbell, and he answered with both bags in hand.

"Oh, shit. I thought I'd be out of here before you got up," Rob greeted me with an anxious chuckle. He didn't know that I always woke up before the crack of dawn, working east coast hours so I could interface better with D.C. On a whim I glanced over at a small table behind Rob, spying his key to the guesthouse sitting there atop a handwritten note.

"Moving out already?" I said, nodding towards the table. "I know I abandoned you when I met Sarah, but never did I think you'd do the same."

Rob unceremoniously dropped his bags to the floor. "I fucked up, Tommy boy. Then I left a letter because I'm too chicken-shit to say it to your face," he admitted, spreading his arms in resignation.

I sighed. "I know. I talked to her. I know what happened, but I didn't come here to blame you for it. She was coming on hard, and I didn't get in her way because I figured she could weather her hormones better than a teenager on her first date."

Rob was silent for a moment, the gears in his head spinning. "I don't know what to say," he frowned.

"You don't have to say anything but sorry," I replied coolly. "Then you can stuff all this melodramatic shit, and pick that key back up before we lose touch with each other for another decade. Fuck, maybe you'll be married by then, and I can finger your wife to even up the score."

"Fuck you, Tom," Rob chuckled, the stress bomb in his chest now successfully defused. He glanced at the key, thought for a moment, then pocketed it. "I am sorry. But read the letter, alright?"

"I will," I promised. "See you in two weeks, Rob." And then we fist bumped. Somehow.

I took a deep sigh of relief when I'd finally parted ways from my old friend. That was more difficult a conversation than I ever imagined, and I was both proud that I'd held my composure and disappointed that I didn't blow up on him. Why didn't I, I wondered? The only explanation that I found remotely plausible was that I felt guilty for my small part in the whole thing. That I'd gotten off during it was also batting a strong 'maybe', but I pushed that aside for now.

I couldn't answer these questions alone, and I certainly wasn't going to pose them to Sarah without knowing what kind of Pandora's Box I'd be opening along with it. Instead I just distracted myself with work, a cathartic experience all told after trying and failing to quench the flames of doubt racing through my mind.

~~ ** ~~ ** ~~

I came home that day to find my soulmate relaxing on her back near the pool, soaking up the afternoon sun while wearing nothing but a familiar black bikini and a pair of aviators. My eyes were instantly drawn to the half-crescent curve of her ass and thigh, so shapely, so smooth, so intoxicating to drink in. My gaze then danced over the rest of her voluptuous body, giving plenty of attention to those massive breasts of hers that so eagerly wanted to slip out of her bikini. God, was she perfect.

Sarah was also on the phone with someone, and, judging by her playful tone, I deduced it was probably one of her girlfriends. Rather than interrupt her, I merely listened in to the one-sided conversation.

"Then he kinda gave me that look, you know? The 'I scratched your back, now you scratch mine'?" my wife anxiously said. "So I went in there, and..." she made a jerking motion. "Handled him."

I could hear a bout of screaming come through the receiver. Definitely a girlfriend. "I did," Sarah nervously laughed. "But that's it, I left right after. No, no kissing."

I couldn't believe she was already gossiping about jerking off another man. I'd have to have another talk about boundaries soon. Maybe.

"He knows. I told him," Sarah continued, pausing. "Actually, no. He was completely understanding. Just told me to never do it again, and a few other things, and... yeah. He never even raised his voice," she giggled delightfully, followed by more screaming from the receiver. "Jen-naaa! Be serious!" Another pause, more giggles. "You're literally seeing a yacht owner!" And another pause. "Hands off, you mega-bitch-homewrecker-slut!"

My wife was howling with laughter by the time I made myself known.

"Speaking of superman, he just came home! Call you soon Jenna! Smooches!" Sarah happily exclaimed as she hung up the phone. She looked at me and bit her lip, appearing just a pinch guilty. "I hope you didn't hear too much of that."

"I heard enough," I curtly replied. "And I know Jenna can keep a secret, I just hope you're not telling the whole world about this."

"I'm not, just my besties," Sarah hastily promised. "Heh, and oh, it was so funny, Jenna just spent the last minute gushing about you and pretending she was going to steal you from me. She even called you 'woke'."

I didn't know if that was high praise or not. I just shrugged, a bit miffed that Sarah could blow off my concerns so quickly. Then again, she and her closest girlfriends shared everything with each other, so why would Sarah's tale of infidelity be any different? Still, why'd she have to sound so proud about it?

"You're thinking," my wife whispered worriedly.

"Too much," I sighed. "I spoke to Rob today before he left. Made up with him, I think," I told her. I couldn't clearly see Sarah's reaction from under her sunglasses, but she did raise her eyebrows.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He'd left his key on top of a page-long apology letter, but I convinced him to take it back."

Sarah sat up in her lounge chair, suddenly feeling the gravity of the situation. "I really am the worst host alive," she murmured. "Making your friend want to leave after only a few days."

"Or the best," I jested dryly. "I doubt the hotels around here offer complimentary handjobs." Rather than laugh, or say 'Thomas!' like she always did, Sarah just pouted at the joke. I changed the subject.

"Can't believe you're out here sunbathing, babe. Thought your heritage made you 'allergic' to sunshine," I asked, referring to her smooth, alabaster skin courtesy of Scandinavia. That got her to crack a smile.

"Promise not to be mad?" she coyly asked.

My curiosity tripled, a jolt of excitement searing through me centering on my dick. "Sure?"

Sarah leaned towards me, setting her hand on my leg. "Well, I was out here having lunch when I noticed our neighbor throwing some looks my way," she answered casually, nodding that way. Our backyards were separated by shrubbery, not a fence, so there were patches of visibility between them. Sarah continued, "I wasn't particularly dressed, just a shirt and some boyshorts. I think he was watering the garden. Anyway, I was bored, so I started messing around. Crossing my legs, playing with my shirt, and... well, look."

Sarah unabashedly shifted her bikini bottoms to the side, then guided one of my hands up between her warm thighs and towards her sex. I got the hint, penetrating her slick folds with my middle finger, her pussy making a wet squelching noise as she sucked me in. It wasn't just the neighbor's perennials that got soaked here; my wife was absolutely flooded.

"Holy shit," I couldn't help but say. I ran the tip of my finger over her g-spot before pulling out.

Sarah giggled. "Yeah. So anyway I went back inside, changed into this, concocted an ingenious plan to draw his attention once again by calling Jenna and being a noisy little girl on the phone, and then --"

"I ruined it," I interjected with a smirk. Sarah laughed, setting her hand back on my lap.

"You ruined it," she confirmed. "That said, I'm not entirely sure what my plan was if I got caught. The idea was to, you know," she traced circles over my crotch with her middle finger, "but I don't think I have the balls to do it for real."

Sarah and I gazed into each other's eyes then, though I had a difficult time reading her. She leaned in so close that I could feel her hot breath on my lips, so close that I couldn't help but pounce on her. Our kiss was so passionate that I barely registered her hand rubbing my dick through my pants.

"You're so hard, honey," she teased me as she broke the kiss. "Now I kinda feel bad."

"Why's that?"

"Because I just made all that up to get back at you for the 'complimentary handjobs' thing," she giggled. "It's nice to know you're still not the jealous type."

"Sarah, you're a disgraceful harlot," I chastised her playfully. How did I fall for that?!

My wife merely shot me a sultry smile in reply as she unbuckled my belt. She then slipped off her recliner and between my legs, pulling down on my pants just enough to get access to my manhood. Little me was already standing tall and proud for her.

Sarah gazed up into my eyes as she wrapped two slender fingers around the tip of my dick, jerking me off gently. She asked, "Would a disgraceful harlot do this?" and engulfed my dick between her plump lips, exactly as a harlot would.

I won't lie, I didn't last long after that. Sarah's art of sexual torture was improving frighteningly quickly, and she had me spilling my seed on her hot tongue in minutes.

~~ ** ~~ ** ~~

Nothing out the ordinary happened until about a week after the sunbathing incident. Sarah and I stuck to our typical routine; me getting home from work sometime in the afternoon, bothering her until she gave up being productive, then going out with her, watching a movie, playing games, loving one another. The usual.

It wasn't until the following Saturday that Sarah surprised me, sending me a text as she was out shopping with her friend Jenna.

> Can your favoritest wife get Rob's digits? Pretty please?

My wife's sudden ask hit me like a hammer, the gears in my head spinning at full blast trying to ascertain the reason for her sudden interest. She could have simply waited to ask this of me until she got home, explained her reasoning, anything. When I found myself still going to Rob's contact info anyway, I stopped myself to ask if I would regret this. I then asked Sarah the same question.

> No you'll love it. Promise. I'm a good girl.

My dick was already growing in anticipation, but still I wavered. Sarah must have sensed my hesitation from miles away, for she followed that up with:

> And hubby can always check my phone if he wants. Always.

So I sent her Rob's number. The immediate effect of this act came when my mind started racing, unable to ponder anything else except my wife texting Rob behind my back. I was a useless mess, and no matter the activity I set myself to I couldn't pry myself away from that train of thought.

Thankfully, Sarah came home about two hours later. Even more fortunate, she was alone, and already waving her phone around as if to taunt me with it.

"You're probably curious what's on this, huh?" she smirked.

"Yeah a bit," I exhaled.

"That's good," she giggled deviously. "I'll let you look, but you have to let me suck your cock first."

I raised an inquisitive brow. "I don't know how you make that sound like a punishment, babe."

It only took two instants for us to scamper up the stairs to our bedroom and for my pants to be around my ankles. It took her only three pumps to get my manhood twitching and pulsing for her, ready and eager for her wet lips. She then sucked me in dutifully and deftly, already fondling my nuts just as she'd done a thousand times before.

But this time I had to ignore her. This time I grabbed her phone, and scrolled up to the beginning of her conversation with Rob. My wife had started things off with a short message and two pictures.

> I'm trying to surprise/apologize to Tom and need a second opinion. Red or green?

The first photo pictured my wife wearing a new red dress, holding her phone near her tummy as she snapped her reflection in a changing room mirror. The dress was cute, frilly in places, with a plunging neckline that showed off a generous amount of cleavage. The dress flared out at her hips, somehow accentuating her already-incredible hourglass figure.

Oddly, the cutest part of the photo was unintentional. Sarah was winking for the camera, an attempt at seduction that almost came off as desperate. It made sense; she wasn't one to take a thousand pictures of herself for social media, so she hadn't the experience.

The second picture, featuring a green dress, was a far more daring prospect. For one it was strapless, so the dress practically encouraged my wife's massive breasts to spill out at any moment. It also hugged her figure far tighter, wrapping around those perfect tits and wide hips like the most sensual lover. More than that, the hem appeared to fall only inches past her womanhood. I knew Rob well enough to know he already had his answer, but still he greedily replied,

Not sure hows the back look <

And Sarah dutifully sent him two more photos. This time they offered fantastic views of her side profile as she bent over at the waist, her curvaceous ass now on full display. The red dress was a looser fit near the hem, which an errant gust of wind might threaten to lift, while the green dress was shorter and tighter, outlining Sarah's butt just perfectly. It was so short in fact that it only barely covered the cleft of her ass.

Mr penis says green <

> Thanks, Mister Penis! Tell Rob he's a pig.

And that was it. I set the phone down, my heart racing as I was brought back to the present by Sarah's lusty lips wrapped around my dick. She was gazing up at me expectantly, noisily bobbing up and down as I tried to process what I saw on her phone. The wet sounds of her thirsty tongue wrapped around my shaft only grew louder, her ministrations faster, and I buried a hand in her long blonde hair as she drove me closer to heaven.

As I was nearing my peak, however, she suddenly popped off my dick and gasped for air. "Muah! I'll wear the red one when you treat me to something nice," she teased, lifting herself off her knees.

Our needy gazes met for a fleeting moment before Sarah pushed me back onto the bed. "What about the green one?" I asked.

"That's for Friday," she husked. The day Rob returned.

Instead of mounting me like I fully expected her to, Sarah merely settled beside me, facing me so her voluptuous tits pressed into my side, her hand still pumping up and down my throbbing dick.

"I'm closing in on your pervy secret, honey," she lewdly whispered into my ear. "You've given me so many hints."

"H-Have I?" I moaned for her. God, how I loved this fucking minx!

She nodded. "But it would be easier if you just told me," and breathed, "So I can please you like a wife should... and not go too far..."

"Ohh fuck, baby..."

Sarah had slowed her ministrations in a doomed attempt to stop me from cumming. Doomed, because I was already bucking against her hand, thrusting my dick between her slick fingers as she whispered into my ear. Sarah gently squeezing my nuts was all I needed to go over the edge and shoot my seed onto her hand.

After a silent, heart-pounding moment that I used to catch my breath, Sarah lovingly kissed on the cheek. "What do I have to do to get you to spill, Mister Pervert? Tie you up?" she giggled so cutely. I turned to her and nudged her nose with mine.

"No offense, babe, but you know I've done resistance to interrogation training. Keeping secrets is my specialty," I smirked.

"You must have flunked out, because I can read you like a book," she teased back. "But fine, keep your secrets."

~~ ** ~~ ** ~~

Strangely, my wife dropped all teasing of my 'pervy secret' for the entirety of the following week. Our sex was still amazing, the romance there -- Sarah looked like Aphrodite descended in that red dress when I took her out on the town -- but for some reason, she'd just abandoned it. A cursory look on her phone (now that I had permission) only showed one new conversation with Rob; him asking her bra size, and her responding simply with the letter 'H' followed by a 'you pig'. Odd, but hardly anything to be concerned about. I was stumped.

But when Sarah had thrown on that slutty green dress, and was doing her makeup in preparation for Rob's return, I finally caved and pressed her on her silence. She smiled at me through the bathroom mirror.