Suspicion

Suspicion

A paranoid, cheating husband leads to problems

Warning: This story is not primarily about cheating wives, but they are present within it. As such some people might consider the husbands to be cuckolds. So, this is your warning. Also, all Scotch whisky in the story is 18 years of age, or older.

Second Warning: There is non-consensual sex in this story

**

My husband George is a wonderful man. He is kind, generous, earns a good income, and is great in bed. He's also rather handsome, with a six pack and a healthy head of hair. He does have one fault, however, and it is a doozy: He is suspicious by nature, and his suspiciousness has lately been out of control. Luckily, I'm not the type of girl to give him cause to suspect my fidelity. George is all I want, and he is all that I will ever want.

A couple of months ago, he added some "improvements" to our security system. George comes from money, you see, somewhere in Bumblefuck, Wisconsin, and as a consequence he owns quite a few things of value, such as original paintings that should be in museums, cars that drive faster than any reasonable person would want to drive, rare Aztec treasures, and the like. It's a bit ridiculous. Such possessions make you a slave to protecting them from theft.

I'd like to think the theft thing is why we now have hidden cameras in every room except the bathrooms, that capture both video and sound. After all, we have servants who come to the house to cook, to clean, to garden, to maintain the pool, and all that stuff. George trusts none of them, and he spies on them with his cameras. So far, he has found nothing, except for one maid who stole a sterling silver knife and fork, claiming she wanted to use them for her lunch, and planned to return them after washing them.

I think even my suspicious George, however, was not expecting what actually happened. We throw a lot of parties, all of them for business, but we often invite our friends and neighbors to the parties, as well as the business guests. We have great munchies and top shelf booze available. Everyone has a good time. At one party, around 6 weeks ago, George's automatic spying system did not catch any of the guests stealing anything, but rather it caught a little adulterous hanky-panky.

My friend Stephanie and another friend Stephan, both married, but not to each other, snuck up to our guest bedroom upstairs, and unwittingly made quite the porno video.

I know this because as George was going through his spy videos the next day (which was Sunday, of all days), he suddenly screamed out for me. His voice had such an urgent quality to it, that I came running.

"Joanie, you'll never believe what's on one of the videos," George said, his excitement barely contained.

"Are you going to make me guess?" I had trouble hiding my annoyance. I didn't approve of this invasive aspect of what I considered to be George's paranoia.

Well, it turned out seeing a stone fox like Stephanie naked, and being royally fucked, was (unsurprisingly) titillating for George, and while I was disgusted with myself, I could not tear myself away from the horrific video. I felt it to be analogous to the way people cannot stop staring at the horror of a bloody traffic accident. Watching Stephan with his largish paunch, his fat, sweaty body, his grunting nature, fuck this little nymph who was my friend, I did not find arousing. Stephan's one redeeming feature was the length (not, however, the girth) of his cock.

Frankly, I did not see where Steph might have found the attraction, except for the taboo aspects both of adultery, and the chance of being discovered. Perhaps too there was the arousal of doing it while her husband - in his blissful ignorance - socialized downstairs. Well, come to think of it, maybe I did, after all, see the attraction for Steph. Most of all, when she exploded into the equivalent of an Earth-shattering orgasm, my brain was flooded with insight. If he can do that to her, well, no wonder she obliged him.

"Pornography is so, so, so much better when you know the people involved, don't you think?" George opined, and I glanced down and saw the telltale tent in his pants.

He watched our friends get it on in an adulterous affair, and it turned him on. Well, this is an aspect of my husband of which I was previously unaware. Hey, whatever floats your boat, right? Best not to judge, right? Yeah...right.

"Did you know they were having an affair? After all, you and Stephanie are rather tight," George asked.

"I had no idea. I thought Stephanie and Philip had a good marriage. They're a loving couple; surely you've noticed?" I replied.

"I thought the same. I guess people are more complicated than we give them credit for. Do you think Philip knows? Or Mary?" (Mary was Stephan's wife and the mother of his two children.)

"No way Philip knows. If he knew, they'd be in divorce court in nothing flat," George said.

"You going to tell them?"

"No way. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. Have you seen the muscles on Philip? Nothing good comes from being the bearer of bad news," he said.

"I guess you wouldn't even know about the affair, if it weren't for your spy cameras," I said. "Or the cum stains on our sheets. But then, cum stains are not signed," I added, thoughtfully.

"You've got that right. Now however, we've got the best private porno tape I've ever seen," he said. I wondered just how many he actually had seen, but I didn't vocalize my thought. To mimic my hubby, I ain't stupid.

"Yes, even I have to admit it's hot. Does it give you desire for Stephanie's sexy bod?" I asked. As I asked, I was undressing. George had the tape frozen on a still of Stephanie on her hands and knees, her luscious boobs dangling beneath her, as Stephan ravaged her body with his long cock. I tossed my panties onto George's head, to take his attention from the computer screen and place it where it belonged. I played with my nipples to set the mood.

George took me right there in his den. No foreplay, no nothing, he just plunged right in. It was a good thing I was already wet! He went at it in a way he had never used before, with hard, almost brutal thrusts, over and over again. I felt as if he were trying to punish me with his cock, but I assure you it had the opposite effect, as foretold by my screaming like a banshee when my orgasm overtook me. George and I were both surprised by how intense it was for me.

George had taken me from behind, and after my climax, George had his in short order, and then I collapsed onto my stomach on the (fortunately) plush rug in the den. George fell on top of me. When he eventually rolled off me, I rolled onto my back, and we looked at each other. My giggling broke the spell.

I wondered silently to myself if while George was fucking me into smithereens, he was pretending I was his lusted for stone fox Stephanie. Normally such a thought would have upset me, but just then I didn't care what George thought. Anytime he wanted to fuck me like that again, he could pretend whatever he wanted to; I was game!

Besides the porno with Stephanie, George gained something else from his paranoid recording of everything. A neighbor boy, Charles, who was doing some gardening work for us, entered the house to use the john, and then snuck off to our bedroom. Once there, he went through my lingerie drawer, and went through my entire collection of panties. He next went to the hamper and found some soiled panties of mine, crusted with dried cum. He sniffed the dirty panties; then he pocketed them. He next returned to the garden to do what we were paying him to do.

I was highly disturbed, even distraught, by the neighbor boy Charles behaving that way, but when I told George, he seemed to be tickled pink, and he couldn't stop laughing. I washed away my upset with a glass of pinot grigio. Some things it would just be better not to know. It did, however, explain why I couldn't find some of my lingerie.

Some days later I was home alone, while George was having a boys' night out, and I was horny. Even though I had a sexy husband, who would be home later and take wonderful care of me, I was in the mood to get myself off. I let the devil tempt me, and I went to the den to fire up George's computer. George rotated his passwords through four different ones, and I knew all four. The first one I tried worked. I navigated through a morass of crap until I found where he kept the files of his video spy cameras. They were on an external hard drive. I wanted to watch our own private porno video of Stephanie being reamed by the most unlikely Stephan, with his oily, greasy, overweight nature. He did, at least, have a long cock.

I felt guilty. Stephanie is a true beauty, and she is sexy as all get-out, with her big boobs and perfect, hourglass figure. To top it all off, she has a pretty face. I like to think I have all of that too, although not the naturally blond hair, but there is one glaring fault, and that fault has made me insecure all of my adult life. The fault is that I am flat chested.

I do have boobs, of course; every woman does. I have nice areolas and long nipples. The problem is that I'm an A cup or even less. I know that most men are interested in sucking and fucking, and one's boobs do not enter into those activities (mostly), and I give a great blowjob, and I'm told I'm a good fuck, too. Nevertheless, and perhaps it's a bit irrational, but the fact of my almost nonexistent boobs makes me insecure. So, I was looking forward to fantasizing I was Stephanie, with her perfect boobs, getting reamed, but by my husband George, not the creep Stephan.

As I was browsing the files, looking for the video in question, I stumbled across a similar one, but very different, too. This new file shook my world, from the very foundation to the skylight. This time it was Stephanie again, and again she was being reamed, although this time it was on my marital bed, in the master bedroom. Okay, no big deal, just a change of venue, but there was more: It was no longer Stephan doing the reaming; no, this time it was my own husband George!

I stared at the video in shock, and as I watched it, I played with myself, climaxing in only a few minutes. Damn, but it was hot! What was it with Stephanie, anyway? She had it all: good looks, one hell of a husband, prosperity, and until that very moment, she had me as a best friend, and it doesn't get better for friends than yours truly. The real object of my outrage was, of course, my loving husband George, whom -it seemed - just couldn't manage to keep it in his pants! Now I had video proof of his infidelity. Well, George, it looks as if you've just been hoist by your own petard!

I knew I would have my revenge. I laid my plans carefully, conspiring with my best friend and partner in crime, Veronica. December was coming up on the calendar, and that would be the perfect time. I told George that Veronica and I were going to have a blow-out party, with 1980s hard rock music, and lots of dancing. George was dubious, but I told him Stephanie was coming and "Who knows? Maybe you'll get a second porno video!"

The weeks flew by, and Vero and I bought all the decoration materials, and hired a DJ. Vero and I transformed the house into a splendiferous emporium of all things Christmassy. The part I was the most interested in was the mistletoe we hid here, there, and everywhere around the house.

The party came and all the drinks were spiked, except Coca Cola straight from the can, and, of course, good old water. We expected the heavily spiked eggnog, in particular, to be popular. Party guests began to feel no pain rather quickly. My horndog husband George was hanging around Stephanie and other women he thought he might be able to score with, so I was left to my own devices, exactly as I had hoped.

I was going to put on a show for the spy cameras; one that I was sure would drive George crazy!

I had decided to let my small boobs work in my favor, and I went without a bra. In addition, I wore a crop top that was tight, made of a thin cotton. It stopped just below my boobs, thereby showing off my flat and taut midriff. For the occasion, I wore a bit of jewelry at my belly button. The careful observer could see my nipples, areolas, and the shape of my boobs, right through the thin cotton, if he (or she) looked closely. I coupled that with hip hugger stretch leggings which clung to my body, kind of emphasizing the goodies below the waist. I was commando. There was a lot of flesh exposed from just below my boobs, to right above my slit. I looked as if I were ripe for the plucking.

However, the party was in my own home, with my husband present, and I was the hostess, so I expected everyone to behave, kind of, and that last qualifier was the key. The DJ was great, and the music inspired dancing. George had drooled at my outfit before the party, but once the pretty women began to arrive, George left me alone. I started the ball rolling by asking Frank to dance. I had always kind of liked Frank, and my theory is that if I like someone, chances are he likes me back. Also, Frank is a talented, graceful dancer.

I had noticed the absence of Stephan and his wife Mary. Veronica told me that Philip had beaten Stephan to within an inch of his life. Vero typically exaggerates, but still: that's scary. What if Philip learned that George had gotten it on with Stephanie, too? Even if he is a cheating bastard, I love the SOB. I kind of like the idea of my husband keeping his teeth, and staying in one piece! Anyway, just then I had to pay attention to what Frank was doing with me!

The way Frank was spinning me around, I kind of wished I had worn a skirt, but there was method in my madness. To keep my resolve, I kept picturing good old George ravaging the gorgeous body of my friend Stephanie. Frank kept me dancing for a slow number and I made my move. I melted my body into his, put my arms around his neck, and buried my head in his chest. This is where Veronica came into play.

Veronica came up to Frank and indicated he was not far from some mistletoe. Given the way I was dancing with him, that was all the hint Frank needed. He maneuvered us to be under the mistletoe, and Vero rang the gong. We had explained that whenever a couple was under the mistletoe, a gong would sound. Everyone looked around to see who it was, and they all saw Frank nervously kiss me. There was applause.

The gong sounded again, as another couple fell "victim" to another sprig of mistletoe. Then the gong sounded a couple more times, and then it rang almost without stopping, as people got with the program. Now almost nobody was paying attention to Frank and me, but we were still under mistletoe, so I pulled Frank's head down and gave him a kiss that sizzled, and kept giving him hot kisses. My kisses emboldened Frank, as I hoped they would, and he tentatively put his hands on my ass. My ass is one of my better features.

I softly moaned when his hands went to my ass. My leggings were low enough that the top third of my ass was not covered. We were still kissing. Frank decided to see how much he could get away with. I had hoped he would; he's that kind of guy. He slipped his right hand under my blouse and fondled my nipple. I moaned louder, right through our kiss. My nipples responded quickly. Frank thoroughly (and I do mean thoroughly) felt up my boobs, underneath my blouse, and then he made his big move. Frank slipped his hands underneath my leggings, discovering I was commando. I could feel him smiling, right through our kissing.

Frank was having a grand old time feeling my ass, my ass crack, and he even got a finger in my asshole. Throughout, I kept kissing him and moaning, offering exactly zero resistance. Then Joe cut in. I suspected Joe was even more of a molester than Frank was.

"Could I dance with our lovely hostess, Frank?" Joe asked, and Frank broke our kiss, smiled, and gestured for Joe to take my in his arms. Joe did not have to be told twice. We hadn't moved, and I got in my dancing position, hands around Joe's neck, with my body plastered against Joe. As it turned out, Joe was a little more aggressive than Frank was. He had seen what Frank got away with, and he seemed to be determined to get even more.

Still under the mistletoe, Joe and I began with tentative kisses, rapidly morphing them into sizzling hot tongue play. Joe wasted no time, going right for my boobs. His hands went underneath my crop top, and he pushed it up and off my boobs! I was now flashing anyone at the party with a decent line of sight to my boobs. This was more extreme than I had planned for, but I had promised Vero I was going to be Little Miss Submissive, so I just kissed Joe some more and ignored the exposure. Joe played with my boobs, and especially my nipples, for what seemed like a long time.

I was getting off a bit at my exposure to my friends, and especially to my hubby's colleagues. George was off somewhere, pursuing his sluts, so he was unaware of it. This will teach him to ignore his wife and to cheat on her! Joe, on the other hand, got carried away. Taking a page from Frank, I suppose, he slipped his hands beneath my leggings and caressed my bare ass. Unlike Frank, however, his hands pushed my leggings down a bit, to the point where my slit was partially exposed! It took me a minute or two or three or ten to notice.

Joe made it so that I had no choice but to notice my exposure when he inserted a finger right inside me. My vag was wet and welcoming to his invading finger, and also to the second one he inserted only moments later. Joe had turned me so that I was facing the wall, and most of the party would not see my effective nudity, with my boobs and pussy both exposed to the world. Instead they'd see my entire bare ass, which Joe's pushing down of my leggings provided for their viewing pleasure. This was way out of bounds!

I knew I had to stop Joe, but I decided to wait a minute or two because his fingers had found my g spot and it -- quite simply - felt just too damn good! Okay, I thought, I have to tell him to stop, and just as I was about to, the bastard's talented fingers, plus the excitement of my exposure, gave me a rip-roaring climax. Luckily, the 1980s hard rock song My Sharona was being played, and it was so loud that my appreciative noises from the climax were drowned out.

This was not at all what I had planned. I was worried how my asshole husband George would view me. Was it cheating? No fluids were involved, other than my vaginal lubrication juice. But Joe's fingering induced a climax. This was not supposed to happen! In addition, a few guys (and maybe some women) had seen private parts of me best left unseen. Shit.

I was totally humiliated, but I had accomplished my mission: Another man had fingered me to a climax and my cheating husband, when he watched his spy videos, was going to be livid! I had to hope just not too, too livid! Mission accomplished, I covered up my boobs again, and pulled my leggings back up. I made my way to the kitchen for some more eggnog.

The next day George and I discussed the party. The videos showed the slut Stephanie was up to some hanky-panky again, this time with Richard, but it also revealed that Marcia too was a cheater: she got it on with Bill! I waited for George to bring up my risky behavior, but he didn't! Had he not noticed, being too busy checking out the adulterous fucking going on in the upstairs bedrooms?

I didn't know what to think. What good was my revenge if George didn't notice it, or - worse -ignored it? Didn't he care? Then it dawned on me! In the middle of the night I slipped out of bed and checked out the videos myself. Yep, there it was: plain as day. George was poking Susan. Damn it all, wasn't there a single woman among our friends who kept things for her husband alone? Of course, there were around twenty wives at the party, and "only" three were cheating while their husbands were downstairs doing God knows what.