[This story involves themes of voyeurism and exhibitionism; specifically it centers on the fantasy of a husband sharing his wife with another man. Be advised that there are explicit descriptions of sexual activity. If you are offended by such material, please do not read further. ALL characters depicted herein are over the age of eighteen. I hope you enjoy the story and appreciate those who take the time to vote and comment.]
It all started off innocently enough. It really does sound nicer when I phrase it like that, as in reality it started off with me catching a glimpse of Tommy Jordan spying on Kerri as she sunned out by the pool. I could have nipped it right then and there, no problem.
But then I wouldn't be telling this story...
It was the first week of June, last year. The weather was nice and Kerri, my wife of nearly fourteen years, was out where she usually is on sunny afternoons; cranked back on the lounger, catching some rays. Our two girls had just left for their two-week stint at camp and I'd taken some of my vacation time so that we could do some things, just her and I.
I was upstairs that day, wrapping up some pending business on an account, feeling lazy, looking forward to our trip into the city tomorrow. I absently glanced down at my wife. She was in the bikini that I liked; the aqua one with the sea-shells. Her paperback was tucked down at her side, her thumb wedged in to mark her page. She was snoozing.
"You do look good, babe," I muttered appreciatively, turning back to the computer. That's when I saw him, a shadow really, a rustle of curtains on the second floor of our neighbor's house that caught my attention. I leaned forward just a bit, craning my neck to get a better view. It was Allen's kid, Tommy; I got a good glimpse of him as he came closer to his window. It didn't take a leap to see that he was staring down at my Kerri.
"Pervert," I mouthed, more amused than angry at his voyeur routine. Hell, I was a horned-out kid back in the day—actually back in the Carter administration.
I watched for awhile longer, seeing him come clearly into view, his face drifting closer to the pane, his breath actually fogging the glass at points. He was very intent, no doubts on that count. I noticed that he didn't have a shirt on and wondered if the little fucker was totally naked, if he was whacking himself off over there, stroking his dick to the sight of my napping wife. He sure as hell seemed to be doing something over there besides taking in the view.
It was maybe only two or three minutes from start to finish. The kid was definitely jacking himself; his features tightening, his head snapping back convulsively, eyes clamped.
And then he was gone, backing from the window like a ghost. A ghost who'd evidently just shot a wad while peeping on my cute little honey.
"Son of a bitch," I whispered with more than a hint of twisted admiration, shaking my head. I looked back down at Kerri. She was still in dreamland, her mouth slackened, the novel dropped onto the grass.
We'd been neighbors with the Jordan's for over seven years now; Tommy had actually been a student of Kerri's when she was teaching seventh grade a few years back. I found myself looking over to the window as I settled in to finish up my work, work I was not really able to concentrate on now. The little shit had totally scattered my thoughts, he really had. I kept looking over at their house—was I wanting to see him back there, or what?
After a bit I switched the computer off, finally waving the white flag on it. I looked over at the Jordan's house one more time, and then started downstairs. I was a bit surprised that something like that had sparked me. I went to the fridge and took two bottles of Fiji out, again taking the opportunity to look up at their house from the window over the sink, no one watching.
"Sleepy head," I said as I bent over the lounge chair, touching the sweating square-sided bottle to Kerri's navel, watching her jump awake at the chill.
"Jerk," she laughed, slapping at my leg as she took the water from my hand.
"Want to do something?" I asked, taking a seat on the chair next to hers.
"You know, just something," I answered, cocking an eyebrow.
"Something like what?" she asked with a drowsy coyness, taking a long, languid swallow of cold water.
"Does it involve me being stripped?"
"Definitely involves that."
"Umm, I like being stripped."
"I've heard that about you."
"You have? So who's been giving away my secrets?"
"Oh, lots of guys."
"And after I tell 'em to keep quiet so my husband doesn't find out," she whispered dreamily, swinging herself up off the chaise and starting off towards the house without another word. I caught myself looking up at the Jordan's house as I crossed the yard, half expecting to see Tommy's face to be peering down at us.
"You're a horny little boy today," Kerri teased breathlessly as we finally came together at the top of the staircase, her long fingers tracing down the front of my trousers, finding me fully engorged, encircling my bent shaft though the thin fabric.
"I was watching you out by the pool," I said, suddenly pressing her, backing her into our bedroom.
"You're a peeping tom then," she said, wagging a playful finger in my face.
I grabbed a handful of silky hair and tugged her head back, just touching my lips to hers by the slightest as I reached behind and roughly undid her bikini top.
"Did it make you wanna fuck me," she breathed, winching a bit as I gave her head another sharp yank.
I had her briefs coming off then; there was a modest ruffle at the waistband, that perfect tangle of coarse dark hair down between her legs. I felt that warm swell at a spot just north of my stomach, that delicious, almost syrupy, rush of blood though my head.
"Easy," she said, shoved down onto the bed beneath me, my body instantly crushing atop hers.
"Okay," I said, pulling myself back from it. I lifted up off her, her fingers fumbling the buckle of my belt, trailing the zipper down, tussling with my boxers. That smooth palm of hers at last enveloping my liberated shaft, coaxing it to seemingly new levels of hardness. This chick of mine was terrific, she really was. Her breasts were smallish, still pretty firm after nursing two kids off them. She had a long, gorgeous body, sleek and muscular in the legs, her belly slightly rounded and smooth.
I knew what she wanted before she said it, that she was not a maven for drawn-out lovemaking. I went down her body with a deliberate purpose, no more kissing, just my hands on her warm, sun-dappled skin, burying my mouth into her richly luxuriant pelt, finding her moist already, that wonderful nub swelling as I gently touched my tongue to it.
She tensed with the words, a sharp inhalation, as if her breath was bitten off.
I licked her the way she liked, working my tongue into her like a maestro, deep, tracing out the heavy labial folds, again and again coming back in on that stiffened clit, dancing over it with, sucking it...
"In me, in me now," she half-moaned, tugging me up with two fistfuls of hair.
I heaved myself upwards, pulling my shirt up over my head and flinging it across the room, my trousers riding down at my knees, positioning my cock against her, that familiar mossy wetness as I entered her, driving my cock into her sodden cunt with one powerful thrust.
"Easy, easy," she rasped, her eyes fluttering with the shock of it.
"I wanted to fuck you so bad," I whispered, holding myself stock still for a moment. I listened to her breathing and started in on her with a slow rocking rhythm, my cock working back and forth just an inch or so with each thrust, feeling her start to parry with her hips, meeting me, deepening my strokes.
"You had somebody watching you out by the pool," I heard myself say, not having thought about it till the words were out.
"Harder now, go real hard."
I slowed my pace, actually halting for several seconds, feeling the desperate effort as she tried to shift her hips along my cock. I drew outwards, almost to the point of being free, and then drove myself home with all my strength—a startled bleat, her body arching up beneath me.
"Come on, do me. Do me hard. Hard..."
"Tommy Jordan was spyin' on you when you were lying out back," I went on, seeing her eyes widen with what I'd just said. "He was watching you out the window."
I started in on her before she could say anything, picking up the pace and riding her hard, anchoring her hips so she caught the full weight of each thrust.
"I think he was jerking off," I wheezed close to her ear, feeling that surge coming, the delicious rush corkscrewing up my spinal column—my balls constricting, off the fucking cliff with it...
The air seemed very still, my eyes were closed tight, grunts of rut tailing off now, my hardness broken. Just her breathing and mine, ragged, no words, each of us sweating.
"He was looking at me?"
"You know what you said?"
I opened my eyes; Kerri was staring up at me, her face slightly mottled, her eyes very bright.
"Tommy," she went on demandingly.
"He was looking out the window over by..."
"Looking at me out there?"
"He was lookin' alright," I clucked. "Looking and probably more."
"That is fucked up," she blurted. Kerri was not one to curse, except for the few choice ones she'd drop when we were in the sack or if she was really, really ticked. She hitched up on her elbows and I felt my shrunken buddy slip out of her.
"It really wasn't anything bad. He's just a kid and..."
"He was spying on me and jerking—he was masturbating. You saw it?"
"Couldn't see that part of him actually."
"This isn't funny, Frank."
I couldn't help it, I grinned, heard the hesitant chuckle slip free of my mouth.
"We have the girls out there."
"Look, it isn't something that you should get all bent over. He's probably just all horned out and he see's you out there in your bikini and you used to be his teacher and..."
"And, and, and," she mocked, softening maybe a little.
"And you looked hot, what do you want me to say. Hell, I thought about jerking off myself looking at you down there."
"Well, you obviously enjoyed the whole thing," she said, softening a bit more, a begrudging smile as she reached down and gave my milked-out dick a playful wag.
"It was hot."
"You're more twisted than he is," she laughed, shaking her head at me. "I can't believe he was doing that. Tommy is one of the nicest kids I've ever had..."
"...ever had jerk-off over you."
"You put things so nicely. Such a poetic soul I'm married to."
"He was stroking it. I'll guarantee you of that."
"That's so mortifying. It is."
"Water under the bridge," I said, hugging her close to me, just touching our lips together.
"I'm surprised you didn't go over there and start pounding on their door."
I shrugged, again feeling amused with how exciting the whole little drama had been.
"What if he keeps doing it?"
"Look up at the window next time you're out there and give him a big friendly wave. Trust me, that'll get him back to his Playboys."
"Unless I maybe decide I like being watched."
I laughed; she was shifted over to her "dare me" mood, that persona I'd seen her assume so many times during the course of our marriage, mainly in subjects sexual. Over time, I realized that she liked to feel pushed when trying something fresh, as if it were a challenge to rise to. I also saw it as her way of putting whatever onus there was to a thing on me.
Mexico had been like that, a vacation back in 97' or so. Kerri's teasing remarks about some of the women going topless at our Club Med, the way she maneuvered to have me suggest that she should join them, which I more than eagerly did. There had been the usual proffered resistance on her part, the drawn-out jesting on the subject, then the "dare" as I now term it, a loving prod from me that culminated with her stripping off her top in the middle of a crowded beach—absolutely loving the attention of it, spending the next three days on virtual parade down there, giddy as she'd stroll up to the cabana bar with those pert tits of hers on full display. That was before she had Amy and Leann. She was perfectly proud of those sweet cupcakes back then, perfectly delighted to be showing them off to complete strangers with my hearty encouragement.
And of course there had been other times over the years; a fast "al fresco" tumble that we'd once taken on the back nine of a Phoenix golf course, the first time for her at a strip club, a fairly classy skin joint just outside of Atlanta—she'd been so stoked on it, though I struck out completely when I tried to entice her into a lap dance with a fetching redhead.
And here it was again, that "dare me" edge to her voice, that way she'd set her face when saying it. She was putting it out there for my reaction, no doubts about it.
"Maybe you should give him a little better show next time," I whispered conspiratorially. "You know, show the kid what a terrific rack looks like."
"Yeah, that's all I need to do," she smiled, pulling up a tangle of sheet to drape her exposed body.
"What'd be the harm," I went on. "He's just a..."
"Well, how about indecent exposure for starters? Teacher-of-the-year for 2005 arrested for public nudity."
"You're in your own backyard—your own fenced-in, very private backyard."
"You're serious, aren't you?"
"Just saying that if you wanted to..."
"No, it's you who want me to do," she chided, reaching down to touch me again—I was at half-mast and rising, very good turn-around time for a forty-four year old guy.
"Nobody else can see into our yard except the kid. And Allen and Samantha are at work during the day, so it's only him over there."
"No, I don't think so."
"Just think of him up at the window, all hot and bothered," I said, imagining the scene quite vividly at that point. "He'd be thinking of how you used to be up in front of the class. All bookish with your glasses and hair up, and..."
"No, no, and no," she said good-naturedly, a finger to my lips to silence me. "Tommy Jordan is an adorable kid, and he is not going to be seeing any more of me than he did today. And if I see him up at the window, I'm going to give him a big friendly wave just like you recommended. And now I have to pee, so you can attend to that development"—my rejuvenated hard-on getting a humorous wave goodbye—"by yourself, if you know what I mean."
I watched her paddle off to the bathroom, a palm awkwardly clasped to her crotch to keep from trailing sperm across the hardwood. I figured that since she gave the advice I'd better follow it, so I laid back and started stroking myself. I actually felt like I could come again very fast. The kid scoping her like that and our talk had me really revved up. I knew how Kerri was, that the seed had been planted, and you never knew if it would sprout or not. I knew that I shouldn't bring it up again, any more than a farmer would dig up a radish seed to see if it was germinated.
I was stroking it fast when she came back into the bedroom a minute or so later, a bemused smile as she saw me there.
"Okay if I watch?" she asked, coming over to stand at the foot of the bed.
"You could help with it if you want."
"No, I think I'll just observe," she said officiously.
And so our matinee ended, with me jerking off like a kid and Kerri clapping with mock delight as I splayed semen across my belly.
It was three days before Kerri made it out to the pool again, a day shopping in New York and two more of drizzly gray skies.
Three days of near-frantic humping on both our parts, grinding away until we'd fall into deadened sleep. I could feel my wife's orgasms deepening in intensity every time we'd make love. I knew what it was that she was fantasizing about it, but neither of us uttered so much as a word.
"I'm going to lay out for awhile," came Kerri's cheery voice.
It was a Thursday, the morning already hot and turning muggy. We'd walked early that day, and enjoyed a quiet breakfast. It was almost eleven o'clock.
"Have fun," I yelled down to her, sliding the chair away from the computer, following her with my eyes as she strolled out to the pool and squared herself away on the blanket. She glanced up and saw me in the window, flashing a slightly embarrassed smile as she waved to me. I looked over at the Jordan's house. At the window I'd seen Tommy in the other day.
It was maybe five minutes before I caught the movement over there—with the angle I had, he'd have to strain to catch me watching him. He came up to the glass just like the other day, hesitant, then, when he felt she wasn't looking, bolder, his face right up to the pane. He was a good-looking kid, on the skinny side, shy to the point that he'd sometimes blush when spoken to.
I saw him fidgeting, pulling his shirt up over his head and throwing it aside, down low movements that belied the dropping of his pants. I looked down at my Kerri, she was reclined back, shades on, her novel and cell on the little table.
I darted to my own cell, rolling the directory, pushing her name, ringing. Once, twice...
"You got your audience again." My voice was quavering a bit.
Kerri was quite for several seconds.
"What's he doing?"
"Well he just got naked over there, I'm pretty sure of that."
"So, should I wave to him?"
"I think you should reward him for his efforts, is what I think."
Again, that drawn out silence—Tommy had backed away from the glass when she picked up the phone, but he was still there, stealthy as he craned for a better view.
"Here goes," was Kerri's crisp reply, clicking the phone shut before I could say anything. I was staring down at her now, seeing her drop the cell back on the table and swing herself up off the lounge chair, angling off so that her back was to both of us.
"Come on, baby," I heard myself whisper.
Kerri reached behind her and undid the clasp at the center of her spine, a pause before she shrugged the straps from her shoulders and let it fall free. She turned back to us, nude from the waist up, her small breasts so perfect, taking a few steps, presenting herself.
I looked over at Tommy, he was jacked right up to the glass now, eyes widened, that blur of motion in his arms betraying his pumping fist. I figured what the heck and decided to join him, freeing my own woody and starting a quick stroke on it.
Kerri was clearly enjoying her stint of exhibitionism, the peaking of her dark, petite nipples evident even from this distance. After a few moments, she retook her seat and lay back, shimmying for a comfortable position. She reached for the phone...
I answered before the ring echoed.
"Better believe it. You look..."
"Is our buddy enjoying the show?"
I glanced across at Tommy's perch. He was still at it, his handsome face intent and leering.
"He's enjoying it."
"I wish I could see him."
"I'll go over and get him. Bring him right down poolside."
"Yeah, right, and I'll end up getting raped," she laughed.
"I'd watch that," I said in a husked voice, feverish now in my masturbatory efforts, careful not to get off too fast. "I'd let him do whatever he wanted."
"Are you jerking off?"
"That's no fair," she chided good-naturedly. "I'm doing all the work and I'm the only one not getting satisfied."
"Well, if you want to, all you have to do is..."
"You think I won't?"
"Go ahead. In for a dime, in for a dollar."
I again shot a look at ole' Tommy, he was working it good and hard, grinning big at his fine luck.