Surprise for My Wife

If an account of my wife and friend annoys you, stop now.

*****

Last winter my workplace abruptly closed after a blizzard alert, canceling my three day shift. My wife, Lieb, had my car to be serviced at a shop near her office, so I rode home with a co-worker. She wasn't home yet, so I grabbed a drill and ambled to the basement to finish cabling our new media room but succumbed to a catnap.

I heard her get home but snoozed until the chime of a text woke me. It was from her much older half-brother, Dwayne, simply stating he was headed to Florida. He'd vanished years ago, and mysteriously returned the day before, pleading to visit his mother. I took him to the elder home and left them for a private reunion, but minutes later, security officers told me they'd physically separated them.

The old broad had sprung from her wheelchair to stab a knitting needle through his nose and violently chew his earlobe until her dentures fell out, after he pushed aggressively for cash. My last knowledge of him was holding a bloody handkerchief as he raced away, until that text.

The news would thrill Lieb, so I rushed upstairs. That, and the exciting storm holiday made me feel like a kid. I even stopped to unlock the door and glance at the snow fall, before rushing to the living room to see her sweater, bunched above her swaying breasts, with the thrusts of our friend, Ron, fucking her.

They hadn't heard me, and it was clear news of Dwayne wouldn't matter much to her, or our longtime friend, at the moment. She was softly uttering a constant rhythmical whimper, occasionally interrupted when a strategic probe forced a cry of "Oh" or "Unh," registered her approval.

The random clap of flesh meeting was punctuated by moans akin to praise. She might just as well have said "Giddy-up, go!" or "Yes! Do it you mother-fucker."

Whatever, she was into it and the thrill of voyeurism began to override my shock. Even though it was my wife and friend fucking, secretly watching them have sex made my stomach feel like a litter of tail-wagging puppies were jumping joyously in it.

Lieb and I had basically matured together over the years, often bitching, sometimes hating, but we always supported and relied upon each other. She had smoothed my rough edges, while I buffered her from those who would take advantage of her trusting nature, like her selfish family.

Marriage was a good deal for both of us, and we would do harm on each other's behalf, but it was plain she wasn't under duress with Ron. She was giving it back as good as she was getting it from him wedged firmly between her yielding thighs.

I made a weak attempt to leave, but the rhythmic tempo of the creaking sofa, ticking as the lovers meshed slowly back-and-forth, was too hypnotic. So, I stood planted, focusing on my wife's adultery as she hooked her feet over the back of his knees, securing their semi-nude bodies even tighter together. Firmly joined, they resumed humping, oblivious to everything except their lust.

Ron was forty, about six feet and one-ninety, with an ever-so-slight olive complexion, wavy dark hair and hazel eyes. When I first introduced them at a pool party years earlier, Lieb said he was so well groomed, scrubbed, and athletic, she thought he was years younger. I saw he hadn't aged much since we last saw him a year ago.

Looking down on him from behind as the thick muscles of his smooth ass repeatedly clenched as he flexed into her, I agreed, he looked athletic. He had a slender, well toned ass, a gift from years of swimming, and pivoted into her with a springy suppleness.

I was abruptly distracted when I spotted her sheer, lace panties tangled at his feet. Except for the rare lace border on budget Sears lingerie, my adamantly practical wife never wore anything like them near me. Seeing them, I knew she had expected this day. Somewhat absurdly, the panties grated on my nerves until a few exceptionally solid thrusts made her gasp, "Yes. Yes." to regain my attention.

My wife could have disheartened me with any number of potential suitors. Ron wasn't one of them. I told her once, he'd be a good partner if she had the urge. I found the idea so agreeable that at a beach party, after seeing she was unruffled by him covering his erection while talking with him, that I suggested she let his flirting advance. She immediately replied, "Never. He's married." Her tone was absolute, but I still tried several times without success, so the idea faded, until this.

My eye wandered to his knees pressing into the seat cushion to repeatedly push himself between her raised soft thighs. Her feet had shifted from the back of his legs, closer to his buttocks, to allow better passage of his hard cock buffeting her ass into the sofa. Her knitted stockings flexed apart with his thrusts.

Between his parted legs I saw his ample testicles had contracted close to the hard shaft, and ended each stroke against her stretched pink seam. In contrast to the long fluid strokes I first witnessed, it was evident that their arousal was causing him to press with shorter, deep jabs.

Her delicate right hand held his shoulder, and the other - with her wedding bands - clutched a fistful of his smooth ass, as she bumped her hips up in sync to engulf the shaft plunging into her. Nothing my wife did was familiar to me. Her groans, sighs, and hands were alien to what I experienced. Her legs moved aggressively, and with power against his energetic thrusts. She was a different woman with his cock lodged in her, and more desirable than ever.

Their complete distraction gave me the nerve to creep to a few steps from their feet. Ron's cock shimmered with moisture as it pulled slightly from her cunt, then vanished with a muffled slap and feminine sigh. Their heat was radiant on my face, and the faint, pure, musky scent of my wife's seeping wetness rose to me.

When she began to stiffly arch, trembling, he pumped quickly and gasped with three solid jolts, "Is... this... right?"

Lieb gasped, "Oh!... Ye..." but was silenced by a door flung open and shout from the kitchen.

"Hellooooo! Where are youuuu? It's me, Dwayne."

I had once felt a similar terror in an impending head-on-crash but this was worse. He called again. "Where are youuuu? It's me."

My wife saw me instantly at the sound of the door and furiously wriggled strenuously beneath Ron until he perceived it wasn't her unbridled orgasm causing her to wildly twist under him. They parted so hastily the milky fluid spurting from his rigid cock continued, arching in unguided flight as they struggled to sit upright.

Coarse threads of semen sparkled across Lieb's dark pubic hair, and the wet errant eruptions were smeared into a slick, stringy coating, glistening between her rosy inner thighs. Her quick movement forced a trickle of sperm from her cunt which she instinctively covered with her hand.

In spite of the excitement, he stayed erect, still moist with the froth of my wife's juices and continued to ooze pearly lustrous fluid as they froze, terrified, with eyes locked on me.

Ron's nearly inaudible whisper summarized everything. "Oh fuck."

My wife's shocked eyes began to pool with tears and the sight of her sudden vulnerability filled me with blinding rage toward the intrusion. That an invader was jeopardizing the sanctity of her most intimate behavior a few rooms away, in her home, infuriated me. In an instant, I took control.

Finger to lips, I fiercely gestured to remain silent before calmly answering, "Dwayne, I'll be right there." Then, pointing at the vestibule to the second floor stairs I faintly whispered. "Quiet! Hide there."

They faltered a moment until hearing Dwayne's steps in the kitchen, then darted from sight as I kicked clothes under the sofa. Her panties and his tie stubbornly clung to my shoe, so I stuffed them deep in my pocket. I narrowly intercepted him short of the doorway and asked icily, "What are you doing here? Why didn't you ring the doorbell?"

He looked at me wide-eyed, then stared at the floor mumbling he wanted to say goodbye before leaving as he backed-up toward the kitchen. Stopping, he said he thought he would mend his relationship with his sister.

I knew better, but I was finally convinced he discovered nothing and the relief flowed through me, alleviating my concern. Livid anger replaced it, and he paled and quickly backed to the door. I didn't mention he left his phone on the counter.

I admired the job the old lady did on his nostrils and ear, both a bright crimson and heavily swollen, with nasty looking, bloody scabs. Standing in the freezing wind as the snowfall increased would cause it to hurt like a bitch when it warmed, so I directed the little asshole outside and delayed him until his eyes watered and he pleaded he should leave before the blizzard blocked the roads. I let him.

Confident my wife's secret was safe from betrayal, I breathed a short moment of relief as a flood of gratitude swept through me that I had been there to intercede for her. I realized she was devastated by the sudden cataclysm, and unsure of what was happening, so I took deep, calming breaths as I rushed to the empty living room.

It struck me that I was only mad at Dwayne, not them, and they were cowering with fear at my approach, so I called them with a tone as relaxed as I could muster. "He's gone. He's on his way home. I hope the little prick slams into a ditch. Come and get your clothes."

I heard them stir cautiously, so I continued. "The little son-of-a-bitch is lucky. In this state I could have ended his existence without a problem for entering the way he did." I paused a moment then added, "Come out and get dressed. You're safe. He's clueless. He didn't see you. He didn't hear you. He doesn't know what you were doing. He doesn't even know you were here. There's no problems."

Lieb's pale face sheepishly peeked from the safety of the vestibule and I pointed. "Your clothes are under the sofa."

She was totally disheveled and had had no chance to tidy herself. Her hair was aflutter, and lipstick smeared across her slightly puffy lips. Mascara was streaked by a teardrop on one eye and her bare thighs had red streaks from Ron's strong grip.

Watching her cautiously shuffle, with knees tightly together toward the sofa, I continued, "He didn't see or hear anything but had some bullshit about wanting to patch things with you, but I don't believe him." I saw by her arched eyebrows she was skeptical too.

Still silent, she tentatively reached the sofa while modestly stretching her sweater to cover her pussy and the film of semen Ron had misguidedly coated it with, and when she knelt to grab her clothes, released it to recoil back like a slingshot and expose the wet slit that had been filled with churning cock minutes earlier.

The outer folds were still swollen and scarlet from the friction of Ron's hard dick reaming it, and his errant release now matted her sparse pubic curls. Her pale buttocks were ruddy from being energetically pounded into the sofa, and the sweet hormonal scent of freshly churned cunt lingered.

Her skirt was on in a flash and I wished I had kicked everything in different directions while watching her coyly search for her panties. I felt smug knowing where they were as I saw it was important to her to find them.

Ron, even more frightened, followed very warily with his shirt covering his penis, which I noted earlier, was super-shrunk as they scooted past me to hide. The strong fresh scent of his semen followed him, and he was oblivious to the dark stains spread over his shirttail when Lieb dislodged his ejaculating cock from her cunt.

My wife would have most certainly laundered it immediately before it dried, if mine, but I'm sure that wasn't a concern at the moment. As he clumsily pulled his briefs and pants on, I stared at the spots of semen on the knitted throw and realized he had dropped quite a load in spite of the calamity. Putting on his shoes he broke the awkward silence. "This is my fault Jim. I took advantage of a friendship and am responsible for this."

Unaware of the globs of his jizz staining the throw - which would normally be rinsed and into the washer by now - my wife nervously fidgeted straightening her skirt and sweater.

Neither of them knew how long I watched them, and I had seen how enthusiastically she was into it, fucking him with abandon, her face glowing blissfully with each jab of the flesh. I reasoned the only thing he was responsible for was giving her a solid boning, with her full encouragement and consent, and possibly, by her seduction. He was taking the fall without hesitation and I was impressed with his chivalry and frankly, knew he was that type of man.

I grinned and started to contradict him, by mentioning her panties purpose as I pulled them and his tie from my pocket, but suddenly Lieb interrupted as she discovered the semen stains on the throw, and in a flurry, yanked it violently from the sofa, and shouted, "It's not his fault... please, put the gun down!"

They had the same scared expression as Dwayne. They winced as I raised my hand and saw in the shadows, the gunmetal-gray pistol grip and round black attachment of the cordless drill still in my hand. I never thought about before, but it did look like a gun - a rather big one.

I lifted it toward them, "I was going to install cable in the media room, but fell asleep." I squeezed the trigger so it's gears whirred a few times. "See... it screws, but not as good as you were." I squeezed it a few more for emphasis. They blushed in unison so I did it again. "Whir, whir." Then again. "Whir, whir whir."

Neither laughed, but they were relieved, especially Ron. Her eyes moistened so I babbled on so she wouldn't cry, which would've made me feel bad. "Work was canceled after you dropped me off. I got the text from Dwayne saying he was driving home, so I wanted to tell you the good news. Anyway, you haven't done anything wrong, or something I haven't."

I sensed it was the answer she needed and time to change the subject. I remembered his tie and with exaggerated slowness, freed it from my wife's panties. I handed it to Ron and asked, "We haven't heard from you in months, what have you been doing? Why didn't you answer our texts?"

Before he could answer Lieb suddenly reached for her panties but I quickly drew them away. "Mine." I gloated toward her.

She glared, but not defiantly as she usually would, so I added. "A memento of Dwayne. Call them my gallantry award. Maybe I'll even have them mounted... again... in a manner of speaking. Oops, a pun, excuse me."

I was the only one who laughed.

Ron finally answered me as he folded his tie and put it in his pocket. "Things were hectic. I got divorced several months ago, and just accepted a promotion and transfer back here last week."

Lieb cut in. "We ran into each other at the YMCA last week. I started telling you then but you weren't paying attention and running late for work."

Glancing toward her, I saw she had been using the mirror on the wall to tidy her appearance. The blemished makeup and lipstick was gone, and her hair was neater. The hard tips of her nipples beneath her sweater reminded me she wasn't wearing a bra and she looked so tempting, I sorely wanted to fuck her right then.

I sensed she knew what I wanted to as she stood erect, and for the first time, looked at me directly, in study. I wanted to yank her sweater off and pull her skirt high to delight in the evidence of their fornication, then to lovingly trace and kiss each reddened smudge and untidy detail before slipping my hard prick into her cunt, wet with their juices, and more.

The mood and conversation was abruptly interrupted by the phone, and the caller ID was from her mother's home so Lieb immediately answered. Within moments her face contorted with disbelief, surprise, and eventually bubbled with anger which would normally make me cringe and slink to a safe space. When she thanked the caller and hung up she said, "Dwayne stole checks and credit cards from Mom. They have it on tape but she refuses to press charges."

She simmered silently, then continued angrily, "Dwayne drove forty-five miles north, instead of south to come here, after stealing from his own mother. There are no cars are in the driveway because your car is in the shop, I parked in the garage, and Ron, on the street. He breaks through the door I know I locked, then calls out in case someone is home, because he can't see in our garage." Then she screamed, "That bastard was burglarizing us!"

I answered her. "I unlocked the door to check the storm when I came upstairs."

Suddenly Lieb rushed to the kitchen for her purse and dumped it on the counter to find her credit card case missing. In anguish she moaned, "Oh no! There's over one hundred thousand dollars of credit available on them. It was that bastard! I'm calling the police."

Ron cut in. "You shouldn't. Not yet. Later. I deal with this at work every day. He's got a ten minute start which is huge if he's experienced. First you have to report the stolen cards and checks so they can put stops on them. I do it commercially and use quicker methods. Give me your mother's and your card numbers and I'll report them and then you'll have to wait to get a freeze confirmation to protect your identity for each account, which could take a few hours."

Within a few minutes Lieb and I provided the information to him as he called his various contacts. After nearly an hour of numerous calls and transfers with Lieb aiding with email reports she finally notified the police.

As they made that final call I considered it a kind and unusual act of fate to have been home, but still wrestled with my feelings: Rage at Dwayne; Worry about the cards; Embarrassment at being found watching; But peculiarly, extreme excitement from watching my wife and friend fuck. Recalling her holding him as he thrust stiffened me, and I accepted I liked watching it a lot.

It may have been perverted to a degree, but I was a child of suffering and challenges, and if the gods had bestowed a rare indulgence upon me, who was I to protest.

Ron ended the last call and said, "I deal with thieves and scam artists every day, I can't guarantee anything so you'll just have to wait until you receive your confirmation numbers. Hopefully within a few hours." Then, apologized again, and left.

Lieb makes coffee when nervous and we drank plenty as we made polite small talk waiting for the calls while carefully avoiding what happened earlier. When the phone finally rang over two hours later, she practically jumped through the ceiling to answer it.

She listened carefully and looked sour as she hung up. "Mom's card was used at a pharmacy. Fortunately she isn't responsible for the charge since we reported it."

However, concern over the large line of available credit on our cards loomed large and the wait was stressful for us. An hour passed and another call came in when her mother's credit card was confiscated at an Urgent Medical Care facility and she was told the bearer had quickly fled before being treated. That was a small, but welcome consolation.

Finally, our credit freeze confirmation numbers began arriving and the weight finally lifted that our credit would not be compromised. Lieb was near tears in relief as she received the final notification, and so was I. I'm sure we were both silently thankful for Ron's help. I listened to her final rantings about the bastard when I remembered the shithead's phone and began thinking about pay-back.

I looked outside to see the blizzard raging in full force, then asked, "Where's my snow gear? I'm going to walk a few blocks and see an electronics guy about a phone I found."

As soon as she brought it to me she grabbed my arm and with a questioning gaze asked, "Are we going to be okay? Have I done something you can't forgive?"