That Green Dress Ch. 04

I had already decided earlier that the odds were in favor of Melissa cheating on me with Greg. I desperately wanted to see it. "Why do you want to see it so badly?" I asked myself. "Because listening to my girlfriend Jackie fucking her ex-boyfriend on the other side of the thin dorm room wall gave me some of the best orgasms I've ever had. Because fucking Amy while she and I both imagined her boyfriend fucking my girlfriend behind our backs gave me some of the best orgasms I've ever had. Coming face-to-face with the real-life, physical act of cheating sex, where no barriers or obstacles obstruct my ability to witness it in full, will force upon me the highest possible levels of torturous jealousy and lust." "But that's your wife!" "Yes, and that breaks my heart so much more, but somehow it's similar to what Melissa said to me four weeks ago: When an orgasm approaches, nothing in the world matters more than letting it happen.

I quietly descended the last few stairs and made my way slowly across the living room. I watched the reflection in the glass pane of the picture frame, but the only images it revealed were those of the kitchen cabinets. It was so quiet. Did they retreat outside like they did earlier for Melissa's motion sickness? Or the garage! Yes, did they go to the garage? Maybe that's where Greg and Melissa disappeared to earlier. There came a whisper. Was that Melissa's voice? Ah, that was Melissa's giggle. They're definitely still in the kitchen. I stood frozen. The music was still playing on a low volume from the stereo to my left, making it difficult to hear anything for sure. I took a deep breath. I needed to move forward. Three steps left. Melissa's black high heel shoes remained under the dining room table. I tiptoed. Two steps. One. I leaned forward slowly, bringing my head around the wall that separated the living room from the dining room and kitchen. There at the far end of the kitchen, in front of the sink, stood Greg and Lisa, their backs to me.

Greg was hunched over the kitchen sink, supporting his weight with palms outstretched on the countertop. Melissa was on his right, also facing the sink, rubbing his upper back gently with her left hand. By all appearances, Greg was sick!

I backed up into the living room. Dozens of thoughts raced through my mind all at once. "The cheating was all in my head! All of it!" "Melissa flirted with Greg all night, yes, but that's all it ever was, which was all part of the plan." "And Greg getting sick is why Brian left so abruptly and why Mark and Cindy decided to wait by the front door of the taxi. That's also why Cindy had the look of worry across her face." A sense of relief began to creep in.

"On the other hand," I thought, "this doesn't answer the question of what Melissa and Greg will do when they are drunk, high, and alone. What if Greg getting sick is the only thing preventing them from fucking right now?" That was a question impossible to ignore. I remembered what Lisa said moments ago about the stars aligning. If there was ever an occasion for me to truly find out - once and for all - if I can trust my wife, this is it. These are the exact circumstances. And if it turns out that she cheats, well, then hopefully I can watch another man fuck my wife, the sight of it filling the needs of the bottomless pit of jealousy that will be consequently carved out deep into my guts.

I slipped off my shoes and picked them up, knowing I may have to make a quick, quiet escape if Greg or Lisa approached. Once again I peeked around the corner into the kitchen. I could see the lower end of Greg's left arm, still propping him up at the kitchen sink. Seconds later, he made some movements away from the sink, disappearing to the right, out of my view.

"Where's your husband?" asked Greg. His voice seemed to project in my direction.

"I thought he went to the bathroom, but he's been gone for a while. He probably passed out. Lisa said we could have the guest room, so no doubt he crashed there."

"Yeah, guest room's fine." Greg seemed satisfied to have the matter of my whereabouts concluded. "Is Brian still here?"

His question told me two things. First, it told me that he was not aware whether he and Melissa were truly alone. Second, it told me that he wanted to be sure that he and Melissa were truly alone. He had already heard Cindy say her goodbye on behalf of herself and Mark, the only other remaining guests. And he didn't actually want to see Brian anymore tonight. He wanted to know that he wouldn't.

Melissa began her answer with a giggle. "You didn't see it? As soon as you retched he stopped talking mid-sentence, turned ninety degrees, and bolted from the room. He was probably halfway through the living room before you made it to the sink. It was like a cartoon!" She giggled more. "So funny. But yeah..." She cleared her throat, and then in a deeper, serious tone, she concluded, "He left."

A moment of silence seemed to me to stretch on for an eternity.

Greg broke the silence. "Just for the record, I did not vomit."

The kitchen lights flicked off. Besides the lights of the kitchen appliances and the stereo to my left, only the dim lights of the dining room and living room remained to illuminate the first floor, causing everything around to be rendered in various dark shades of golden brown.

Melissa giggled again. "I know. So why do we need to enter that into the record, counselor?"

I heard their feet slowly shuffling across the floor, as if reluctant to go anywhere, but it seemed the sounds were growing louder. I bolted for the study in a sort of tip-toed run, in the hope of disappearing from view in the study's darkness.

"You know why," I heard Greg say from somewhere behind me.

Reaching the study, I ducked left and then around to the opposite side of the pool table, where I crouched down. This was no vantage point for me to see anything in the living room, so I crawled on the floor along the pool table toward the front of the house until I could peek around the head of the table.

Greg stood on the living room side of the threshold with the dining room, his hands at his sides, facing Melissa, who stood on the dining room side of the threshold. The balustrade of the staircase partially blocked a clear view of them, but it was overcome simply by moving my head side to side.

"To remind you that I'm not so gross right now," he said.

Melissa was standing up straight, knees locked, stocking feet together, left hand clasping the right, arms in a relaxed position extending down the front of her body. Her hair remained in a bun, with two strands pulled down at the front to frame her beautiful face, the same as she had appeared at the start of the night. With the help of that black dress, so classy, yet sexy, she truly was stunning.

I think she knew where the conversation was headed, which was why she said nothing. Once again the moment of silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, although now it was clear to me that so many things were being said between them as they stood there, looking into each others' eyes.

It was almost imperceptible at first, but I became conscious of a new sound.

Melissa's lips parted slightly and she took a deep breath, raising her chin as she exhaled. Her eyes sparkled in a light from an unknown source. She seemed to be searching for words. Her left hand let go of her right, and her arms fell to her sides.

I fully recognized the moment. The two of them in their vulnerable states, finding themselves completely alone together, both now available to the freedoms found in a boundless night, had come to a time of decision. When Melissa's hands fell to her sides, she had decided. More than her whole marriage to me, more than a loving, stable family with me, what she wanted most, in that moment at least, was for Greg to kiss her.

Melissa looked up to the ceiling.

Then Greg looked up to the ceiling. Then I looked up to the ceiling.

The amplitude of the new sound had increased. With advance knowledge of who was in the master bedroom above them, I was probably the first to understand what that sound was. I looked back to Greg and Melissa.

Melissa's gaze returned to Greg's face. In her deepest husky voice, she asked, "You know what that is, right?" The words almost creaked from her throat. She took another deep breath, and her cheeks seemed to have reddened. Her fingers briefly fidgeted with the fabric of her dress on the sides of her thighs.

Greg's gaze met Melissa's. "What is it?"

"My husband and your wife are having sex in your bed."

"Oh no!" I screamed in my mind. Of course neither of them knew that Chris had returned to the house. As far as either of them knew, only the four of us were there. I couldn't allow my wife to think that I would fuck Lisa behind her back!

Greg's mouth opened involuntarily as his breathing deepened. I wondered if he was about to storm upstairs.

I didn't wait to find out. I quickly stepped toward the back of the study, rounded the pool table, set my shoes down by a chair, and approached the foyer, preparing to put on a show of rubbing my eyes and face as if waking from a nap.

But before I had come out from the cover of darkness in the study, I saw Greg close the gap between him and Melissa, slip his hands around the small of her back, and plant his lips upon hers. I stopped in my tracks. Melissa's hands rose to Greg's shoulders.

The urgency of their kissing was immediate. Even from across the room and over the music that still played on low volume from the stereo, I could hear their breaths escape their noses as their jaws muscled through repeated dilations of their mouths.

Neither was troubled by the presumption that their spouses were fucking in the room over their heads.

Greg's mouth fell away from hers to engage the far side of her neck, forcing Melissa's face to turn slightly in my direction. Her eyes closed and her wet mouth opened wide as she visibly took in a deep breath. Her toes curled under her feet, and her weight shifted from one foot to the other. Her neck and chest had begun to redden like her cheeks. "Greg," she whispered, "my husband and your wife are fucking." Melissa's body seemed to shiver with her next breath. "They're fucking, Greg. They're fucking." He answered by returning his mouth to hers and extending his tongue before their lips could meet. She reciprocated, and the tips of their stiff tongues danced before their kissing deepened.

Seeing my wife engaged in a sexual kiss with another man was both the hottest and the most painful thing I had ever seen. My stomach had become a burning ball. My heart hammered through my ribs and sternum, forcing blood to rush through my ears and into my groin. My hands and body trembled, making the task of unbuttoning and unzipping my khakis extraordinarily difficult. Finally I was able to wrap my hand around my dick, but I dared not stroke it, because already I was about to cum in my pants.

Melissa's hands took an excursion from Greg's broad shoulders to his neck, and then down to his muscular chest before returning to his shoulders. Meanwhile his hands fell from her waist to the base of her ass, where they squeezed and pulled her body more tightly into his. He leaned his weight into her in a maneuver that forced her backward. In two small, blind steps, her head and shoulders came upon the wall's corner between the living room and the dining room. No doubt an uncomfortable position, Melissa rolled her back around the corner to the living room side of the wall until she was flat against it, which was in favor of my view of them, and Greg moved right along with her. His hands on her ass kept her lower body several inches away from the wall, as if her lower abdomen was to be presented to him. In all their movements, their mouths dared not part.

Greg's hands reached lower, to the backs of Melissa's thighs, and then slid upward to her ass again, bringing the fabric of her dress with them. Melissa's left upper thigh, all clad in sleek, black nylon like the rest of that long, slender leg, was now fully visible to me from where I stood. Having been successful in their task, Greg's hands repeated the action, pulling the hem of her dress up and around her ass to her waist, allowing the fabric to rest on the outward slope of her upper ass cheeks. With the bottom of her black dress now at her waist, the precise curves of Melissa's muscular ass and athletic legs were as visible to me then as they would be if she were completely naked. But between Greg's and Melissa's bodies, among all that black fabric, there appeared to me one spot that was not so dark. A moment later my eyes discerned what I was seeing between them: there, just to the inside of her left thigh at its uppermost, in great contrast to the black pantyhose that surrounded it, peeked out an area of bare skin. I understood then that, sometime earlier in the evening, Melissa's pantyhose had been torn open at her crotch.

I released my dick from my hand to hopefully avoid having an orgasm. My knees wobbled with the truth I had discovered, and I made my way to the floor to avoid crashing down. Head down, both my hands and knees met the floor, and several seconds passed before I was able to lean back and rebalance my weight as I sat on my feet. As I had suspected earlier, Melissa did not actually have a bout of motion sickness. A quick-thinking Greg had offered up that excuse to help her cover up the fact that they had done something together behind my back. Did they fuck? Maybe he only fingerfucked her or licked her pussy. I couldn't be sure. But I could be sure that, in some way or another, my wife had already given her pussy to Greg earlier in the night.

The rhythmic creaking of the bed in the master bedroom came to a halt. I looked up from the floor and refocused my attention on Melissa and Greg. With the tight fabric of her black dress no longer restricting the movement of her legs, Melissa had widened her stance, allowing Greg's right hand easy access to the space between. The middle and ring fingers of his right hand were deeply stroking her interior vaginal walls. Meanwhile Melissa's hands were working on opening the buckle of Greg's belt.

The rhythmic sounds of the bed above restarted, only they were now slower and louder. Lisa was taking a pounding from Chris.

As soon as Greg's zipper was down, Melissa's hands reached into his pants and extracted his hard cock with both hands. That action forced Greg to lean his body away from Melissa's, and he took the opportunity to remove his sports jacket and toss it toward the dining room table. Keeping his cock in her right hand, Melissa's left hand reached deeper into Greg's khakis, presumably to fondle his balls. Her right hand was turned upward, such that her fingers stroked the underside of his cock as her thumb stroked the topside, forcing his cock to remain pointed in the direction of her crotch. Still their mouths dared not part from one another. Their kisses were hungry and audible.

With the length of Greg's cock maintaining a separation between their bodies, it was visibly clear to me that his manhood was significantly larger than mine. I've always known that my dick is just slightly above the supposed average size, and is therefore generally adequate, but in seeing Greg's cock I knew then that I was entirely outclassed. The size of Melissa's hand in relation to that cock showed me it was both longer and much thicker than mine.

And she has always known it! They spent two whole years together. Yes, she may have remained a virgin, but from my own experience with Melissa while dating, I could be sure that the two of them had performed many sexual acts together. From the time Melissa and I first began dating, she knew that my dick is smaller than Greg's. Is that what tonight is all about? Even though Melissa never actually fucked Greg, did she miss having his giant cock? Has my dick been a disappointment to Melissa from the start, and for the sake of our love, was she always willing to overlook that shortcoming up until this very night?

Greg busied himself with unbuttoning his shirt as Melissa continued to busy herself with stroking his massive cock. Last button unbuttoned, Greg pulled the shirt open and off his shoulders, then reached both hands behind him to pull it from his body by the sleeves before tossing it in the direction of the sports jacket. Without a pause, he then pushed down upon his khakis and briefs, kicked off his dress shoes, then finished pulling and kicking his khakis and briefs off with the help of his feet. Perhaps self-conscious of how he may have appeared, Greg brought his feet up one by one to his hands to remove his socks, rendering himself in total nakedness. Melissa's hands refused to leave his cock and balls through his entire undressing, and still their mouths dared not part from one another.

Greg seemed unconcerned with removing Melissa's dress any more than it already was. His hand joined Melissa's on his erect cock. Her left hand released his balls and took hold of the skin of his bare right hip, and together they guided the head of his fat cock to the soft lips of her pussy. As contact was made, her right hand let go of his cock. Her fingers curled underneath the red lace of her panties at the far side of her vertical brown strip of trimmed pubic hair, then slid downward, deeper into her crotch, and then to the side and upward again, causing her red lace panties to twist away to the side and nearly disappear from my view. All I could see was the bare skin of her pussy, and the cushion of its soft lips pushed slightly forward by the pressure of Greg's cockhead below.

Greg dipped his hips lower as Melissa's feet shifted further apart, and then, suddenly, the space between their lower bodies disappeared. The muscles of Greg's ass flexed as he drove his cock into my wife's vagina. It slid in so easily; she must have been soaked in anticipation.

Her mouth escaped Greg's to release a surprised, breathy "Uh!" in response to the entry of his cock. As the muscles of Greg's ass relaxed, indicating that first withdrawal from her, Melissa's hands flew up to the back of his neck. She could no longer rely upon the strength of her muscular legs to hold her weight. Greg's body had quickly become her primary source of support. Her eyes took on a deeper appearance as she looked into his, and her eyebrows rose upon her forehead, as if she were asking for mercy.

Greg's ass flexed again, and Melissa again cried "Uuh!" Her eyes pleaded with him, but he showed none of the mercy they asked for. His cock withdrew again, and then more forcefully drove up inside her. A man was fucking my wife right before my eyes. And she wanted it more than anything in the world.

My heart was of course already broken. Every thrust of Greg's hips and each sound or gesture of Melissa's resulting pleasure was a stomp on its broken pieces. But as the throbbing pains in my twisting guts increased, so did the magnitude of my lust. The increased lust led to an increased desire to see my wife fucked by that fat cock. I wanted to see her naked body writhe underneath his, and I wanted to see her cum.

At his last thrust, Melissa raised her left leg, presumably to allow Greg deeper penetration inside her. In support of her movement, Greg's right hand instinctively sank to the underside of her left ass cheek. This rebalancing caused Melissa to pull Greg's upper body closer to hers. Instead of anchoring her arms around the back of Greg's neck, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hooked her chin over the top of his right shoulder, near his neck. Melissa was now sandwiched tight between Greg and the wall. Apparently, in a bold move, Greg signaled Melissa to bring her right leg up the same way as her left. She complied, hooking both her feet behind his thighs, her legs spread wide, as the wall supported her weight from behind and his hands supported her weight under her ass.