tagLoving WivesShadow Lake Estates Ch. 05

Shadow Lake Estates Ch. 05


Art reclined in his chair with his feet resting on top of his desk. The door to his small office was closed. He held a tablet in his hand that displayed an attractive young woman on all fours being fucked in the ass by a large man. It had been a slow week. Being the station's Captain had its advantages.

He closed the video and started another. Yawning, he exited that one as well, and began scrolling through a seemingly endless array of video clips. Glancing at the top of the screen, he spotted a tab for live cams. He had never had much interest in those cams, but he had grown bored of the videos. It was time to switch things up. He clicked on the tab and began browsing the various options.

His vision landed on one of the thumbnail images and he nearly spit his coffee all over his tablet. He quickly tapped on the small photo and a video image filled two-thirds of his screen. In the other third, a list of user names was displayed, along with a running tally of "tokens." On the main panel showed a live video feed from his stepdaughter's bedroom.

Kiersten smiled into the webcam seductively. She wore only a lacy pink bra and white panties, and she was swaying to some hip-hop music that played in the background.

"Thank you, bigjohn32!" she squealed, blowing the user a kiss through the camera. "Just a few more tokens and I take this off." She playfully tugged at her bra, briefly exposing one of her nipples.

As she continued to gyrate and sway for the camera, Art cautiously glanced at the door. He looked back at the tablet, and then looked away.

"This ain't right," he muttered to himself. "Kiersten, what the hell are you doing?"

"Ooh, big donation from LickMyBalls69!" Kiersten exclaimed. "You know what that means!" She reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her pert young breasts were exposed for the entire online world to see. Art looked away again.

This explained how she always had money for new clothes and going out with her friends, he thought. He looked at the tokens tally. It was nearly up to 1,000 - whatever that meant. When it reached that figure, Kiersten wriggled out of her tiny panties. She stood naked in front of the camera, pressed her breasts together, and twirled so that her fans could see the full view.

"If you're just joining us," she said, looking into the camera, "this is 'Face Time with Fiona.' I'm Fiona, obviously, and well, we're about 500 tokens away from Face Time."

"Face Time?" Art repeated. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Just then, a huge donation registered on the screen, pushing the total well above 1,500. Kiersten squealed and clapped her hands. "Thank you SO much, HornyOne50! I knew I could count on you!"

With that, she adjusted the web cam, fixed her hair, and lowered herself to her knees.

"Today's lucky man is someone we'll call...Norman," she said. "I met Norman at the grocery store. He was just so incredibly geeky, I wanted to squeeze him! He looks like the kind of guy who hasn't had his dick sucked in, like, ever! Is that right, Norman?"

She looked off-camera to her left and smiled. "Norman just nodded. They can't see you, silly! No, I told you, your face won't be on camera. Don't worry. Now come over here."

She beckoned him with her finger and a figure approached her, fully-clothed. Only his jeans and the top of his shirt could be seen.

"For those of you who don't know what's about to happen," she said, "Norman here is about to get the best blowjob of his life. And when he's ready to burst, he'll do it all over my pretty little face. Are you ready, Norman?"

"Oh, hell, no!" Art shouted. He switched off the tablet and rushed to the door...just as the alarm sounded.


"Dammit, Alex, stay in the box!" Dan shouted from his position in the dugout.

Bill tossed another pitch toward the plate - a perfect strike. Alex backed away from the plate and attempted to swing, missing the pitch by more than a foot. Dan slammed his clipboard onto the dugout floor and marched toward the plate. He snatched the bat out of Alex's hands. Alex looked at him, wide-eyed, attempting not to cry as the entire team watched from the field.

"You step into the goddamned box like this," Dan demonstrated. "You dig in with your back foot. When the pitch comes in, you step toward the mound - toward the mound! You don't step out like a frightened little girl. You step in and you swing the damn bat!"

Bill rushed toward the plate and got Dan's attention. He nodded to Matt and told him to take over.

"Take a break, Alex," Bill said. "Play in the field for a while, and we'll try again a little later, okay?"

Alex nodded and ran to the most secluded part of the field with his head down. Bill took Dan by the shoulder and guided him toward the dugout.

"What the hell?" Bill said in a whisper. "You can't embarrass him like that in front of the whole team."

"He just...he drives me fucking crazy sometimes," Dan said. He took a few deep breaths and nodded. "I know. You're right. I shouldn't have done that."

"What's going on with you, man?" Bill asked. "Is everything okay?"

Dan sighed and looked into the distance. "No, it's not okay. Nothing's okay. Denise and I had a fight. She's not living with us at the moment."

"Shit," Bill said. "She left you?"

"More like I kicked her out," Dan explained.

Bill shook his head. "I'm sorry to hear that, man. If there's anything I can do..."

"There's nothing anyone can do. It is what it is. Our lives just haven't been the same since we moved out here. Denise is some other person I can't even recognize anymore. Holly is getting in trouble at school, and her grades are going downhill. Alex is getting picked on at his school, and now he's scared to death of a fucking ball."

"Go easy on him," Bill said. "The kid's going through a lot. You all are. He'll come around."

"Thanks, Bill," Dan said. He patted him on the back. "You're a good friend."

"Now go talk to your son," Bill responded.


The pickup truck sped into the driveway and came to a screeching halt. Art emerged and sprinted into the house. He called out Kiersten's name and bolted up the stairs, only to find she was not in her room. At last, he found her laying out on the back porch.

"Kiersten!" he shouted. She turned around and looked at him quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some sun," she said. "What does it look like?"

"That's not what I mean!" he shouted. "I saw you. I saw what you're doing online. How can you do that?"

She appeared shocked for an instant, but recovered quickly. "It's none of your business, is it, Art?"

"You're conducting your business in my house, so I'd say it is my damn business!"

"Your house? I thought you and Mom went halfsies."

"And you think she would approve of this? Just wait until I tell her."

"You don't want to do that, Art," she responded in a threatening tone. "I know what you've been doing with Mrs. Gupta. You tell, and I tell."

Now it was Art's turn to express shock - only he wasn't as adept at hiding it. "You...you don't know anything."

"I know you park your truck down the road at lunchtime every Tuesday and Thursday. I know you sneak through the neighbor's backyard and into hers, and that you disappear through her back door for about an hour or so. I assume you two aren't baking cookies together."

Flabbergasted, Art stammered for a moment before catching himself. "Listen, you have to stop your little webcam shows. It's not safe bringing strange men into our house."

"Don't worry, Art, I'm pretty good at picking them."

"Well, all it takes is one. You...you shouldn't be doing these shows. Face Time? Really, Kiersten?"

She smiled and lowered her sunglasses to peer at him. "Did you enjoy it, Art? I bet you did."

His face reddened and he pointed a finger at her. "You...you need to stop. Okay? Just stop."

"Whatever you say, Art," she muttered with a dismissive wave.


Karla strode into the small office wearing a tailored business suit complete with black stockings and high heels. She had just returned from an audition, and she didn't look happy to be there. The office was empty, though she could hear the sounds of workers just beyond the closed door behind the desk. She approached the desk and waited patiently.

The dimly-lit and dingy office reeked of gasoline, oil, and rubber. There was a small television on a table against the wall, displaying an infomercial. With a sigh, she turned to watch the only source of entertainment available. It was an ad for a set of cookware. After several minutes passed, a man finally appeared through the door. Both his clothing and his hands were covered with splotches of grease and oil. He grabbed a rag from his back pocket and wiped at his hands.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, my husband sent me here to pick up our car," Karla explained.


"Donaldson," she said.

The man looked at her for a moment and smiled. "Right this way," he said. He opened the door, and she walked around the desk and through the door.

The garage was littered with old tires and auto parts. Two cars were propped up on lifts, and Karla recognized that one of them was hers.

"That's it there," she said, pointing to her car. "I thought it would be ready by now."

"It will be, soon," the man said. She glanced down at the name sewn into his shirt. It read, "Phil."

"I'll be so happy when it's ready, Phil," she said. "I've had to use Uber to get everywhere, and it's getting expensive."

"I'll bet it is," he noted. His stares were making her feel uncomfortable, and she absent-mindedly folded her arms and crossed her ankles.

Phil made eye contact with one of the mechanics, and he smiled and approached the two of them. Soon, the other mechanics stopped what they were doing and gathered around Karla. There were six of them in total.

"Wh-what's going on?" Karla asked. "Why did you all stop?"

"It's not often we see a fine piece of ass like you here in the garage," one of the men said. He leered at her like a starving wolf eyeing a fat sheep.

"Mm-mm-mmm," said someone behind her. "If you think the front end looks good, you should check out the rear."

The men continued to exchange rude comments until one of them suddenly seized both of her arms and held them behind her back. She began to scream, but Phil quickly covered her mouth. As all six men tore away at her clothing, Phil leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Shhh...it's okay," he said. "Tom set this all up."

He slowly removed his hand. Her skirt was yanked down, followed by her panties.

"Tom?" she whispered. "Where is he?"

Without saying a word, Phil motioned with his eyes to a small table where a laptop had been set up. She could see herself reflected in the image on the laptop, surrounded by this group of sex-starved men. Her muscles relaxed, and she felt herself being pushed downward. As she kneeled, her top was removed and her bra was unfastened, leaving her completely naked except for her black stockings and heels.

Before she could process what was happening, she was surrounded by hard cocks, all pushing into her face. She took one of them into her mouth, while two others were placed in her hands. There were hands on her tits and hands squeezing her ass and fingering her pussy.

One cock was removed from her mouth and replaced with another. The men seemed to be rotating around her in a circle, taking turns with their new toy. All the while, they laughed and prodded each other with crude remarks.

"What a fucking slut!"

"Can't get enough of that big dick, can you, baby?"

"She fucking loves it! Look at her!"

"I can't believe how wet she is!"

When they were done abusing her mouth, one of them forced her to all fours and entered her from behind. Another stuck his cock in her mouth, and the two men worked both ends simultaneously, simulating the pistons in the engines behind them.

The image of these six men taking turns with this woman played in full-screen mode on Tom's laptop, more than a dozen miles away. Tom stared at the image with bloodshot eyes. Without removing his eyes from the screen, he fumbled for the glass beside him. He held it unsteadily with his right hand, as his left was furiously busy at the moment. He took a sip and placed the glass back on the table.

He suddenly lurched forward and emitted a loud groan. He shuddered and his muscles tensed. The spasms slowly subsided, and he relaxed, slouching backward into his chair. All the while his focus never left the screen. He picked up the glass, emptied it, and heaved it at the wall, shattering it into tiny fragments.


Dan's heart sank when he answered the knock at the door.

"I never thought I'd have to knock at the door of my own home," Denise remarked with a tentative smile.

"What do you want?" Dan asked.

"It's been almost a week, Dan," she said. "It's time for me to come home, don't you think?"

Dan leaned against the door frame and sighed. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"No, Dan. I don't. Why don't you explain it to me? Why was that brief touch of lips so important to you that you'd throw away almost twenty years of marriage?"

"Because that 'brief touch of lips', as you put it, was betrayal, Denise. Not only did you betray me, but you lied about it."

"I never lied to you!"

"It was a lie of omission. You had every chance to tell me about it before you did, but you held back for a reason. Because of that, I don't think I can ever trust you again."

She tried to place her hand over his, but he pulled away. "Dan...think about the kids. How long can they continue to believe I'm on a business trip? Think about what you're doing to our family. It's not necessary."

"I disagree," he stated in a detached monotone. "You're hardly ever here for the kids, anyway."

She simply stood and searched his face for a moment, looking for some recognition of the man she loved. She had no choice but to acknowledge that she had hurt this man for whom she cared so deeply.

"Will you at least agree to counseling?" she asked. "Are you willing to fight even a little bit to save this marriage? Or does it mean that little to you?"

He looked past her to the house across the street. He could see the curtains moving, and knew that either the old man Hank or his wife Patty - or possibly both - were watching surreptitiously.

"Fine," he said. "Just text me the details." He shut the door, leaving his wife standing alone and dejected.


"How did your interview go today?" Holly asked. She sat at the dinner table pushing food around her plate absent-mindedly. She hadn't been eating right for weeks, it seemed.

"It went okay," Dan responded. "I think they might actually call me in for a second interview."

"Dad, when is Mom coming home?" Alex asked.

"I don't know, buddy," Dan responded.

"I thought you said she was on a business trip," Holly said. "She's been gone for over a week. Where is she?"

"She and I...are having some problems," Dan said, choosing his words carefully. "We're working on them."

"What kind of problems?" Alex asked.

"Grown-up problems," Dan responded. "You kids don't need to worry about it."

"Are you getting a divorce?" Alex asked.

"Don't be an idiot," Holly responded.

"Holly!" Dan shouted. He then lowered his voice and tried to speak in a soothing tone. "No, buddy, we're just working on some things, that's all."

"I don't understand," Alex said. "I want to see Mom. Where is she?"

"She's staying at a hotel for now," Dan said.

"Can we see her?" Alex asked.

"Of course you can," Dan said. "Maybe I'll bring you there tomorrow. Okay?"

Alex smiled. "Okay, Dad."


Tom stared intensely at his reflection in the mirror. He then turned his attention to the canvas, and added some detail around the eyes with his brush, making them darker around the edges. Again and again, he shifted his focus from the mirror to the canvas.

He paused for a moment and took a sip from his glass. He wheeled his stool backward to gain a better perspective of his painting. It was everything he intended it to be and everything he feared it would be. He stared in cold contemplation at his latest work of art and scratched at the stubble on his chin.

For several minutes he remained frozen in position. Then, he slowly rose to his feet, snatched a can of paint from the floor, and hurled it at the painting. He smeared the paint around the canvas with his hands until the entire self-portrait was fully obscured. He grabbed his glass from the table with his paint-covered hand, flicked off the light, and exited the studio.


Although Dan and Denise sat in chairs that were positioned side by side, they could not have felt further apart. They fidgeted uncomfortably and looked in opposite directions. Across from them sat their marriage counselor, who patiently awaited Dan's response to her question.

"It's not just about the kiss," he said at last. "It's about the deception. It's about disrespecting me, and disrespecting our marriage. She isn't the woman I married anymore. I honestly don't know who she is."

After a pause, the counselor turned to Denise. "How do you feel about what he just said?"

Denise's eyes watered and she drew a deep breath. "I don't know what to say about that. People do change over time. We all do. I feel like I have changed, but it's all for the better. I spent years as a stay-at-home mom, and I loved every minute of it. I wouldn't change it for the world. But now, I feel like I'm finally my own person. I'm not just Wife or Mom. I'm Denise."

"It's selfish," Dan blurted. "Isn't it? She went from thinking of her husband and children first to thinking only of herself."

"That's not true," Denise responded. She tried to control her emotions, but it was no longer possible. Tears streaked down her cheeks. The counselor gently nudged a box of tissues toward her.

"Denise, I have to ask you," the counselor said, "at this point, would you say you're open to reconciliation?"

Denise nodded. She then turned to Dan and asked the same question.

"I'm not sure," he said, flatly.


Karla kneeled at Tom's feet as he reclined in his favorite chair, staring straight ahead. She could see nothing but emptiness behind his eyes. She stroked his thighs and pleaded with him to talk to her. He continued to sit in silence with a glass of liquor at his side. She noted that the glass had become a ubiquitous companion of his ever since the night of the pizza delivery.

"Tom...please talk to me," she said.

At last, he glanced at her and then looked away. "I can't even look at you anymore," he said. "Every time I look at you, I see you on your knees, surrounded by all those cocks. I see you on all fours, getting pounded by one after another. I see your legs spread like a cheap whore. I can hear your little yelps of pleasure, begging for more."

"Baby...you made that happen. You set it up. I had nothing to do with it. I was just playing along because I thought it's what you wanted."

"I thought it was, too. Not anymore. I can't keep living like this."

"But you didn't enjoy it?"

"That's the problem, Karla. I did enjoy it. And it sickens me. I've become the type of man I never wanted to be. I look in the mirror and I can't deal with who I've become. As long as you're around, you're a constant reminder. I wish I could just wipe it all away and start from scratch."

"Then let's do that!" she said. "Let's start over again. Pretend it never happened."

"I can't."

She sat still for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge her. "I'm going to go for my nightly run, okay?" she said. "You just sit here and relax. I promise you'll feel better in the morning, and we can start over fresh."

Tom nodded, but still refused to look at her. "Okay, honey. I love you."

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