gentlemanpervert:He sat in the smoke and haze, frozen, unable to move, staring at what he thought
gentlemanpervert: He sat in the smoke and haze, frozen, unable to move, staring at what he thought he’d never see. That was his fucking wife, fucking him. Where had he come from? They were only sharing a quiet drink at the hotel bar following the ballet. He was so charming, put them both at ease, but almost too easily. Then came the offer. “I bet you’d love to watch your wife ride another man’s cock.” Sure in a fantasy, he thought, but not for real. He excused himself to go to the restroom, never thinking she would go for it, and those were his two last mistakes. They retired to their room, and he tried to forget the charming man from the bar. Then, a knock at the door - two bellinis, with a note of apology. Perhaps he wasn’t such a bad guy? He drank his quickly, wanting to go to sleep. he sat on the sofa next to the chair, loosened his tie, exhaled. Then it all fell apart. Another knock, this one more insistent. He tried to get up to answer it, but could not move. She smiled at him, crossed the floor, kicking her shoes off as she walked, and opened the door - it was the gentleman from the bar. The gentleman sat in the chair, lit a cigar, and watched as his wife began to undress. “No,” he said, “Leave your underwear on.” She smiled again, approached him, and straddled his lap, grinding on the bulge in his tuxedo trousers. She moaned in a way her husband had never heard. And yet, he could not move. He had to sit there, and watch. She never drank her bellini. She left with the gentleman. The door closing behind the new pair was the last thing he ever saw. (As requested by a follower.) -- source link