Up Against The Wall

He smiled. 'I can drive and picture you sucking my cock at the same time.'

'That's not all you're going to be picturing.'

Charlie turned on the indicator and eased over onto the shoulder of the road. A hawk, silhouetted by the sunset, wheeled around the jagged mountains.

'Ask me what I'm doing right now,' Sally said.

'What are you doing right now?'

'I'm unwrapping my towel, and climbing onto the bed,' she said.

Sally usually wore a tracksuit to bed. Charlie hadn't seen her naked in some time. He pictured her freckled shoulders, her pert little breasts and the tuft of red hair above the cleft between her smooth thighs. His cock was swelling by the second.

'I'm on all fours and -- ah! -- squirting lube into my anus,' she gasped. 'God, it's cold.'

Charlie ran his fingers through his curly hair, painfully aroused. This was incredibly out of character for his wife. Sally came from a family of strict Protestants, and she was a virgin until her wedding night. Other than some frequent but fairly conventional sex on their honeymoon, they had made love only once every month or two, and it was always Charlie who initiated it. The thought that she wasn't attracted to him had led him to shave off his beard, to take up jogging until he was lean and flexible, to try every aftershave in the supermarket. They had certainly never tried anal play -- what had brought this on?

'Unzip your pants,' she said.

He looked around guiltily. The highway was still empty, so he unbuckled his belt and pulled down the zipped. His dick bounced against his belly. 'Done.'

'Are you hard?'

'Hell yes.'

'Squeeze your cock for me.'

He wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He could feel the blood pumping.

'Now I'm pushing in a butt plug,' she groaned. 'The one I found in your chest of drawers.'

'I don't have a butt plug,' Charlie said, honestly but with embarrassment.

'Well, someone must have gotten horny and bought it for you, then. God, it's so big!'

Charlie stroked his shaft. A car zoomed past, and he turned his face away in case they could see his dick, or in case his rolling shoulders gave away what he was doing.

'Mmmmmm,' Sally whispered. 'Now I'm fingering my pussy.'

This, at least, was true. Charlie could hear the squelching sounds behind her heavy breaths.

'Feels so good to be filled in two places at once,' she continued. 'I just wish your cock was in my mouth to make three.'

'Oh God, Sally.' The head of Charlie's cock was shiny with pre-come.

'Or I could fill my mouth with a gag, and put your cock in my arse instead.'

Charlie moaned, his dick throbbing in his grasp.

'You like that idea, baby?' Sally asked. 'You like the thought of humping my butt?'

'Yes,' he hissed.

'Say it.'

'I want to hump your butt.'

'Well,' Sally giggled, 'what the hell is keeping you?'

Charlie gaped for a moment, and then zipped up his pants and stopped on the accelerator. The growling tyres kicked up dust as he zoomed back out onto the highway.

* * *

It was a small house in a small suburb, surrounded by tall, deciduous trees. A primary school stood nearby, which had seemed important when he and Sally bought the place, but now it seemed unlikely that they would ever have kids. She had been keen, at first, and he had not. Now it was the other way around.

Charlie fumbled with his keys, wondering why he had so many. All he really needed was one for his house and one for his car. How had he ended up with a key ring which weighed as much as a kettle and made him look like a janitor?

He was still fiddling when Sally opened the door. Naked.

Charlie stared at her supple, firm breasts, her soft nipples, the smooth skin leading down to the freshly shaved cleft between her legs.

He looked around, checking that none of the neighbors were out on the street. He couldn't see anyone, but there were several windows with curtains open.

Sally tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and beamed at him. 'Hi to you too,' she said.

'I brought you flowers,' he said, unnecessarily.

She laughed, took the bunch from his arms, and sniffed them. 'We're already married,' she said. 'You don't need to woo me.'

Charlie wasn't sure what to say. Sally didn't give him time to think of anything. She turned around and padded away up the corridor, her neatly rounded buttocks bouncing. She turned her head when she was halfway there. 'Are you coming in, or what?'

Idly wondering if his wife had been replaced by a pod person -- and if it was cheating to have sex with a pod person -- Charlie scrambled inside and kicked the door shut. Sally was already walking away, turning the corner toward the bedroom.

Her voice echoed through the house. 'Take off your clothes for me. All of them.'

Charlie peeled his shirt over his head. He heard one of the seams crack, and didn't care. He kicked off his shoes, tugged off his socks and dropped his trousers, which coiled around his ankles like rippled quicksand. His cock burst forth from his underwear -- it had been hard since Sally's phone call.

'I left something for you on the bench,' he wife called.

Charlie trotted into the kitchen, where he found a bottle of lubricant standing upright on the otherwise bare bench top.

'Found it,' he called.

'Put some on,' she said.

Charlie squirted a dollop into his palm, and slid it up and down the length of his shaft.

'Now start masturbating. Get good and hard for me.'

Charlie laughed nervously. 'I'm already hard!'

'I want you harder. I want you ready to explode.'

Charlie started rubbing his dick with his slick palm, wondering what his wife's goal was. Surely she would want him to last longer?

The friction was unbearable. His balls were already tingling.

'How does that feel, baby?' Sally called.

'Feels good,' he panted.

'Almost ready?'

'I'm ready.'

'Are you about to come all over the floor?'

He inhaled. 'Pretty much.'

'We can't have that. Come on in.'

He opened the bedroom door and stepped onto the plush carpet. His wife was on her knees on the mattress, facing away from him. Her face was pressed against the satin sheets, and her butt was high in the air. She had lubed up, too -- the cleft between her cheeks was glistening.

A half-empty glass of red wine stood on the bedside table. 'Would you like a top-up?' Charlie asked.

'Fuck that,' Sally said. 'Get over here before I lose my nerve.'

Charlie climbed onto the bed. He rested his knees between hers and traced his fingers down her back, watching her butt wiggle as she shivered.

He waited for her to say something, but she didn't. He placed his palms on her buttocks, gently parting them. Still nothing.

He nestled the tip of his cock at her anus. She took a shaky breath.

'Are you sure about this?' he asked.

'Do it,' she said.

He held his dick steady at the entrance, still uncertain.

'Be careful,' she added.

'Okay.'

He pushed forwards, very slowly. Thanks to the lube, the head of his cock slipped in quite easily.

'Whoa,' she whispered. 'Okay.'

'Are you all right?'

'I'm good. Feels weird. Keep going.'

He nudged forward a little more. An extra inch disappeared. It felt like he was pushing his cock into a clenched fist.

'God,' Sally said.

Charlie reached under her and found her clit, a slippery bud between her legs. He stroked it, and felt the inside of her arsehole quiver.

'You don't have to do that,' she said. 'This is for you.'

He fingered her some more. 'And this is for you,' he said.

She gasped as he pushed his cock a little further into her anus. Her slick skin was incredibly tight around him.

'It's so big.'

'Sorry.'

'Don't be.'

She pushed her hips back a little, swallowing even more of him. Her head was twisted sideways -- he could see she was frowning.

'Does that hurt?' he asked.

'Not exactly. Feels wrong. Like doing a poop in reverse.'

'That's hot,' he joked.

Sally smiled. 'In a good way.'

He was all in. Her anus was clenched tightly around the base of his cock. He circled her clit a little faster.

'Oh yeah,' she said. 'That's it.'

He pulled back, emerging from her butt inch by inch, before thrusting all the way in.

She groaned. 'Fuck my arse,' she said. 'Come on.'

He eased back and forth, gradually increasing the tempo. Her buttocks jiggled against his hips. He kept one hand on her freckled back for balance and felt the muscles tense under his fingers.

The pressure was growing in his scrotum. He felt lightheaded. 'Oh, God,' he whispered.

'Are you going to come, baby?' she asked. 'Are you going to come in my arse?'

'Yes,' he moaned. 'Yes.'

'Do it,' she begged. 'Come in me!'

'I love you. I love you, I love you...'

He slammed his hips against hers. They cried out at the same moment as his cock twitched inside her, spurting ropes of semen into her butt. His own buttocks quivered. Her thighs wobbled against his.

He gave her a few more gentle thrusts before slithering out and collapsing onto the sheets. She flopped down beside him, her face turned away.

He kissed her hair and ran his hands across the smooth skin of her ribs. 'That was amazing,' he whispered.

'Mm-hmm.'

He could see the come leaking out onto her buttock. He reached over for some tissues. 'Let me wipe your arse,' he said.

She laughed. 'You're so romantic.'

'It's good practice,' he said. 'For when we have a baby.'

She didn't respond to that. He gently swept the tissues through her crack, cleaning up most of the mess.

'Or when we're old,' he added.

She exhaled. A small laugh.

He sensed that she didn't want to cuddle. Suddenly things were back to normal -- or at least, back to how they had been lately. She wasn't speaking to him, and didn't want him nearby.

'I'm going to take a shower,' he said. 'Okay?'

'Mm-hmm.'

He kissed the back of her head again. Then he clambered out of bed and padded naked into the en suite.

If he had looked back, he would have seen tears on her face. But he didn't.

Chapter 4

'It's these damn jeans,' Eric said.

Irene eyed his naked buttocks. Normally the sight would arouse her -- she would want to spank him, and invite him to reciprocate -- but today, the faint scratches left her feeling anxious.

'They wrinkle funny when I sit down,' Eric continued. 'I might have to throw them out.'

Irene smiled. 'Don't worry, sweetie. We'll find you a new pair.'

He grunted, and stuck his toothbrush back into his mouth.

He seemed genuine, but he'd always had a knack for false confidence. Had another woman dug her nails into his butt? Or was it really just his jeans?

She struggled to remember if he been wearing those jeans on the day when she first noticed the scratches. But she had been blindfolded and handcuffed when he arrived home, and he was fully undressed by the time she could see again.

Eric spat into the sink and looked at his watch, which hung from the edge of the towel rack. 'Shit. I have to go,' he said.

Irene followed him to the bedroom and watched him pull on a pair of woollen suit pants. 'You're leaving early.'

'Yeah, sorry. Breakfast meeting. I'll try to use it as an excuse to get out early this afternoon.'

Eric buttoned up his shirt, shrugged on a jacket and padded out to the front door, where his polished leather shoes waited.

Her heart throbbed. She loved her husband. It was physically painful not to trust him.

'I love you,' she said.

He stopped tying his laces and smiled up at her. 'You too, sweetie,' he said.

But he seemed to look away too quickly.

That was when Irene decided to follow him.

* * *

Tailing a car, Irene thought, is surprisingly difficult.

She had pulled on some big sunglasses and borrowed her neighbour's hatchback, which was not distinctive -- a white Holden Barina -- but there was still a chance that Eric might recognise it. Once she caught up to him, she tried to stay three or four cars behind his.

It would have been easy if she knew where he was going. But this wasn't the route to his office. This made her even more determined not to lose him.

He switched on the indicator, so she changed lanes abruptly. Another driver honked at her, and she made an apologetic wave.

What if the breakfast meeting wasn't at his office? She would feel so guilty if she followed him all this way and he turned out to be telling the truth. Or worse -- what if he was trying arranging a surprise for their seven-year anniversary, and she ruined it?

She almost turned the car around. She would have, if she thought she could do a U-turn without blowing her cover.

This is ridiculous, she thought. I shouldn't be doing this. I'll take the next exit and go home.

Then Eric parked the car.

Irene frowned. She didn't think there were any restaurants or cafés around here. She drove past, keeping her head low, and parked a few spaces further up. She shut off the engine and watched in the wing mirror as Eric ambled up the street.

What are you doing? Irene wondered. Where are you going?

With a final guilty glance each way, Eric disappeared into a doorway. Irene tilted the mirror so she could read the sign above the doorway.

FAMILY PLANNING CLINIC.

She jumped out of the car and ran, without closing the door behind her. Surely he was just picking up a pamphlet. He was thinking they should have a baby. That must be it.

She ran to the window and peered through the tinted glass. Eric was sitting on a spongy grey chair, reading a magazine, while he waited.

For an appointment.

With a doctor.

To test for STDs, presumably.

She backed away from the window, too quickly. The movement caught Eric's gaze, and he looked at her. Their eyes met for just long enough to register the horror on one another's faces. And then Irene was running again, back toward the Barina, her vision already blurred with tears.

She heard the door open behind her. 'Irene!'

She didn't stop. She jumped into the Barina, locked the doors and started the engine.

'Irene!' Eric slapped his palm against the window. 'I can explain!'

She had no doubt that he could. He would make something up, and it would sound very convincing, and she would forgive him, and then she would once again be the oblivious wife with the cheating husband.

She swerved out onto the road, leaving him standing in a cloud of exhaust.

* * *

She didn't really want to talk to her neighbour. Fortunately, he didn't answer when she rang the bell. She left the borrowed car in his driveway, and stumbled over to her house.

Eric's house, she thought. Not mine. He's the one paying the mortgage. What am I going to do?

She unlocked the front door, slipped inside, and locked it behind her. Then she remembered that he had a key, so she dragged a chair out from under the dining table and propped it up under the handle, bracing it shut. Then she slid down the wall, shaking with violent sobs.

How could he do this to me? she thought. Where can I go?

A key rattled in the lock.

She gasped and scrambled away from the door. The chair creaked as someone tried to push it open, and failed.

'Irene?' Eric's voice. He must have come straight home instead of going to work. 'Irene, please let me in.'

She said nothing. She walked into the living room and shut the door, muffling his voice.

'Irene!' he called, louder. 'Just listen to me!'

Lucky the neighbour isn't home, she thought. I could never face him if he overheard this.

She glanced out the window, which overlooked the side wall of the house next door--

And she saw him.

Her neighbour was sitting on the edge of his bed, naked, facing the window. His eyes were closed, and his square jaw hung slightly open. Irene's gaze traced down his broad shoulders, his furry chest, his muscular abdomen, and then stopped at the bobbing head between his thighs.

A woman was on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock.

Irene watched the woman's black ponytail bounce as she took him enthusiastically into her mouth. Her naked butt swayed from side in front of the window as she adjusted her position on the carpet.

The front door rattled. 'Irene!'

Eric's voice shook her out of her trance. She reached up and grabbed the curtains, intending to draw them closed--

And then she saw that her neighbour had opened his eyes. He was staring at her.

Irene felt a blush creep up her cheeks. But he didn't look embarrassed, or angry. He kept his expression neutral, watching Irene as the brunette fellated him.

Irene let go of the curtains. Her neighbour smiled slightly.

'Irene, let me in, God damn it!' Eric pounded on the door.

Irene took a deep breath through her nose, blocking him out. He didn't matter. He wasn't real. Nothing was real except what was happening right in front of her.

Very slowly, she pulled up her skirt, revealing her pale thighs and her lacy underwear. She could feel the neighbour's gaze on her crotch, warming her up like a laser. The movement of the brunette's head changed. The oscillations became longer and slower, as though she was taking his dick all the way into her throat.

Irene lowered herself onto the table. The wood was cool under her bare buttocks. She stroked her damp underwear and shivered.

The woman wiggled her nude butt again as she switched from blowjob to handjob. Suddenly Irene could see her neighbour's cock -- a long, thick rod, circumcised, shiny with saliva. The woman's fingers looked tiny as they slid up and down his shaft. Her mouth, dark with lipstick, was otherwise occupied, suckling on one of his balls.

Irene imagined that it was her hand wrapped around that beautiful penis, her lips kissing that bulging testicle. The vision was so vivid that she could almost feel the pulsing veins against her palm, and taste the sweat on her tongue.

Irene tugged her underwear down over her hips, past her knees and let it fall onto the floor. Her clitoris throbbed as the air brushed past it. She slipped a finger into her mouth, swirled her tongue around it, and then slipped it between her labial folds. Her delicate skin tingled. Her neighbour stared at the exposed flesh, hypnotised.

The woman released his cock and rose to her feet. Irene groaned with frustration, and wondered if he was doing the same. Her finger hesitated against her budding clit. It didn't look like her neighbour had reached orgasm. Why was she stopping?

The woman stretched like a house cat, lithe arms up, head thrown back. The neighbour tore his gaze away from Irene and pinched one of the woman's hard brown nipples between his teeth. As she kissed the top of his head, his hand reached around to squeeze her smooth buttock.

Irene's fingertip quivered against her clit. Her breaths were fast and shallow. Come on, she thought. I need this.

The woman climbed onto the bed and lay on her back with her head toward the window, unintentionally giving Irene a perfect view of the rest of her body -- firm breasts, high cheekbones, a downy tuft of pubic hair. The neighbour climbed on top of her and pushed her legs apart. He lined his cock up with her entrance carefully. Irene shifted on the table so as it was lined up with her entrance as well.

'Ah!' Irene heard the woman squeak through two panes of glass as the neighbour thrust forward. She stuffed two fingers into her pussy, trying to imagine he was fucking her instead, trying to imagine she was cheating on Eric like he had cheated on--

Don't think about it, she told herself. Think of anything but that.

The woman's eyes were closed in rapturous ecstasy. The neighbour was staring at Irene again as he pumped his hips, watching her rub desperately at her clit.

The banging on the front door had stopped. Irene didn't notice until she heard her phone buzzing in her handbag, which muffled the tootling of Eric's ring tone. She ignored it.