The Party in Full Swing
Friday night at our country house was in full swing. The doors barely ever closed: music thundered from the speakers, the living-room tables groaned under elaborate snacks, and the alcohol flowed like a river. In the noisy crowd of guests my eyes kept finding Marina — a longtime friend of my wife Natalie. Tonight Marina looked especially magnetic: a clinging top and a short, teasing skirt that flashed her slender legs with every move. Natalie, already well tipsy on cocktails, was laughing merrily with her university friends, not noticing the carnivorous glances I kept throwing at her friend.
When the clock rolled past midnight and most of the guests had scattered through the house and the veranda, Marina headed toward the kitchen. Knowing this was my chance, I followed. Catching the moment when the hallway was empty, I took her hand — softly, but with intent — pulled her into the small cool pantry where we kept the wine, and eased the door shut behind us.
In the half-dark of the closed space I got straight to the point. Pressing Marina against the shelving, I tried to seduce her: I leaned in, taking her lips in a hot kiss, while my palm dropped to her thigh, working its way under the short skirt. But Marina jerked back sharply and practically curled into herself, bracing her palms against my chest.
“No — stop it, I can’t!” she whispered anxiously, breathing hard. “I’m your wife’s close friend. Natalie is literally in the next room. I just can’t do that to her, please understand.”
She carefully freed herself from my arms, straightened her skirt, and walked quickly out of the pantry — leaving me alone in the company of wine bottles, with a wounded male ego and a cock burning hot with desire.
Secrets of the Dark Garage
Back among the guests, Marina — as if trying to drown out the awkwardness or prove something to herself — immediately spun up a stormy flirtation with Arthur, one of the most striking, solidly built guys at our party. They laughed loudly, threw back shots at the bar, and soon Natalie’s friend was teasingly pressing her whole body into him on her own. I watched them jealously from a distance, feeling resentment simmer inside me.
Before long, Marina and Arthur slipped quietly out into the yard. Led by unbearable curiosity and stubborn lust, I followed them through the dark garden. Their steps led to our attached garage. The door stood open just a tiny crack.
I put my eye to that crack and froze. Inside, on the old leather couch by the workbench, the action was already burning hot. Without any ceremony, Arthur had shoved up the very skirt I had dreamed of taking off Marina, and spread her legs wide. Natalie’s friend, all her recent modesty and morality forgotten, wrapped her legs around his waist in a frenzy, begging him to go deeper. With one powerful thrust Arthur filled her, and the garage filled with the rhythmic, whipping slap of bodies and rich female moans. I stood in the darkness, gripping my pulsing, steel-hard cock in my hand, greedily drinking in every sound of that wild, forbidden intimacy Marina had so easily given to another man.
An Escort to the Bedroom
While I was completely absorbed in the spectacle in the garage, events inside the house were taking a no less piquant turn. Natalie, finally gone soft from alcohol and wild dancing, felt her legs stop obeying her. Swaying, she announced to the company that she was going up to sleep in our second-floor bedroom.
Scott, one of our old and highly enterprising friends, instantly volunteered to escort the lady of the house so she wouldn’t fall on the steep stairs. He wrapped an arm around Natalie’s waist, feeling her relaxed, hot body press obediently into him.
They went up to the bedroom. Scott laid Natalie carefully onto the silk bedding. But he had no intention of leaving. The sight of my drunk, languid, impossibly seductive wife in her clinging dress worked on him like a catalyst. He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to stroke her juicy thighs — gently, but with certainty — his palms climbing higher toward her full breasts. Natalie only moaned, drunk and sweet, tossing her head back on the pillows and giving herself over completely to his warm, insistent hands. Scott quickly drew down the zipper of her dress, freeing his friend’s luxurious body for the stormy night ahead.
The Power of the Watcher
That night, I — the master of the house — got neither of the two women I wanted. Marina had refused me out of her supposed loyalty to Natalie, while Natalie herself was at that very moment melting sweetly under another man’s hands in our own bed.