My Wife's Christmas Surprise (Cuckolding Shorts Book 5) (2 page)

We did have a great time. Even Julie who usually hates anything work -- or Roger -- related was enjoying herself. She'd broken out that little black dress that I always encourage her to wear. Classic party dress. Real short showing off her great legs and with a cleavage displaying V neck. Julie had her dark brown hair up in an Audrey Hepburn bun. Diamond-studded, silver mesh earrings and necklace completed the look. Super stylish and super sexy.

We danced and drank and generally made merry. Around midnight, the band took a break, and Julie and I went over to the bar to refill our glasses and catch our breath. Then Roger showed up.

He sidled up close to Julie and from behind his back pulled out a mistletoe branch. He held it over their heads.

"Looks like you owe me a kiss, pretty lady," he beamed.

Julie rolled her eyes. "Fat chance, Roger."

He laughed, "You can't refuse. It would violate Christmas party rules."

He reached around her and pulled her toward him. Julie spun out of his grasp and pushed him away.

"No Roger, I'm going to kiss you. I'm never going to kiss you!" She exclaimed, a little too loudly. A few other people noticed and were now discreetly looking our way.

"My, my," Roger replied in an amused tone, but I noticed a manic gleam in his eyes. "You're quite the wildcat tonight. Is there anything else you're never going to do with me?"

I was praying Julie would let it go. But she couldn't.

"What I wouldn't do with you could fill a book!"

“A whole book of things you wouldn’t do with me? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised that you spent so much time thinking of me to compile such a list.”

She blushed, but covered it with a hissed, “Fuck you, Roger.”

He smiled. A thin, dangerous smile. "Well, then, Jules, looks like I should find someone else to play with." He turned to me, raised his glass, and said, "Well, cheers Jack! Merry Christmas."

We watched him go off and pull the same stunt on several other women, all of whom gave him at least a quick kiss, which Roger routinely topped off with a furtive ass grab. And after each success, he quickly glanced back in our direction.

Julie gulped down her drink and hissed, "Oooh, that man! God, I'd like to knee him in the balls."

"Oh come on, he's just having a little fun," I replied without thinking.

She rounded on me. "Goddamn it Jack, do you always have to defend him? The creep grabbed me."

"He just wanted a little kiss. No one else seems to mind."

She looked at me incredulous. "I can't believe you just said that. Really?"

But before I could reply, Roger suddenly reappeared. He handed Julie a refill.

"Julie, I just wanted to apologize," he began.

"No, no," she cut him off. "I'm the one who should apologize. It's just that you caught me off guard," she continued, now batting her eyelashes at him.

For a second, he seemed surprised. Then he gave her a grin, "Well, I still have that mistletoe." He held out the twig.

"It only works if we're standing under it," she flirted back.

He started to lift it up, then seemed to get a sudden inspiration. He handed me the cutting. "Jack, would you mind?"

I stared from him to Julie. He had an amused look on his face. She was regarding me with a frozen smile and piercing eyes.

Almost as if under some weird compulsion, I raised the mistletoe and held it over them.

Surprise and, I think, disappointment flashed across Julie's face. Then she turned toward Roger, her face again composed into a tight smile. They leaned in and kissed. It was nothing particularly erotic. Just a peck on the lips, though held maybe a touch too long, giving Roger time to brush his hand down the nape of her neck.

Just then the band came back on stage and started back up. Roger held out his hand to my wife, "How about it Jules? A quick dance to make up for before?"

She turned toward me, "Well, only if it is okay with Jack. Is it okay with you, honey?"

God, I wanted to say no. To grab her and just walk out. I started to refuse, but then Roger gave a withering glare, and instead what came out was, "Um, yeah, sure, if that's what you want."

Julie's shoulders seemed to slump just a bit, but before I could say another word, Roger took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor.

Julie was angry. I could see it in her eyes when she looked back at me. Roger was handling her expertly on the dance floor, holding her hands, spinning her around, occasionally pulling her close to his body. Her eyes went to me repeatedly, almost imploring me to cut in.

Several times I started onto the dance floor, only to realize after what I thought were a few steps that I hadn't moved at all. It was like my feet were nailed to the floor. Finally, the song ended, and I breathed a sigh of relief as Julie took a step back toward me. But then the band broke into a ballad, and Roger pulled her back into his arms.

She shook her head. He leaned in close and whispered something in her ear, nodding in my direction. Julie followed his glance and looked back at me. For a moment, they were both observing me. Uncomfortably, I lamely gave them a little wave. Roger chuckled. Julie rolled her eyes and shook her head. She allowed herself to be pulled into his arms.

They were dancing very close, Roger nuzzling near to her ear, whispering something that made Julie giggle. I realized that other people were now aware of the scene, and were watching Roger and Julie on the one hand and me on the other. I could see them out of the corner of my eye exchanging glances and whispered comments. I was paralyzed, staring out onto the dance floor, a rictus smile on my face.

Roger was growing bolder by the minute. He caressed the side of her face and ran a finger along her ear and across the nape of her neck. His other hand slid down the length of her back coming to rest in the valley of her lower back as he pulled them close together at the waist.

He whispered another something in her ear, and again they both looked at me. I was uncomfortable and embarrassed but somehow still frozen. He whispered to her again, and again they seemed to share a laugh at my expense.

She turned back toward him, and he gave her another quick, closed mouth kiss, but given their bodies pressed together, it seemed anything but chaste. She glanced back over the shoulder at me, but I remained mute and still, she turned back toward Roger again and now stopped looking back.

Julie's back was to me. They were no more than ten paces away, swaying gracefully together to the music. I watched as Roger's hands were now gently massaging Julie's lower back, slowly, but consistently, moving lower and lower until his fingers were tracing small circles across her butt. He gave her ass a firm squeeze. I jolted upright and our eyes met. He held my stare until I look away.

I think the whole time, I kept expecting it to just end. Roger had proven his point, whatever point it was. He'd had his fun, damn it. Why couldn't he just let her go? But even those thoughts couldn't compel me to intervene.

Instead, movement drew my eyes back down to his hands, now possessively cupping and kneading my wife's shapely ass. As I watched, he began to bunch up the fabric of her dress, pulling the hemline further and further up. By then he'd yanked the dress up far enough to expose Julie's red, lace, boy-shorts, and I realized the entire club was now watching. Or maybe it just felt that way. I was lightheaded, my head spinning. I felt like I was going to black out. But instead, I just remained there, now almost standing at attention, trying to wish the situation away.

Roger then slid his hands under her waistband, both his hands now palming her bare ass. He yanked her close again, grinding their crotches together. I could see his left hand now sliding up and down the crack of her ass, and then suddenly he flicked his wrist. Julie stiffened. There was an audible gasp from someone in the crowd who, like me, realized he now had at least a finger inside her.

They finished the dance like that, pelvis to pelvis, his hand moving rapidly under her panties. And when the music ended, I look up to see them kissing again, open-mouthed this time, though still more teasing than voracious.

They walked back to me, holding hands.

"It's getting late. Let's go back to my place for a nightcap," Roger stated matter-of-factly.

I look from him to her and back again. They regarded me with expressionless poker faces.

"Um, well, Roger, the thing is, I'm pretty tired. Maybe another time?" I offered.

He clapped his hand on my shoulder, and I was immediately aware it was the same hand he'd recently had wedged between my wife's legs.

"Oh come on, Jack. We've had a great year. You're not going to deny me the pleasure of having a private toast with my friend and his lovely wife, are you?"

“I think Julie would rather get back home,” I noted.

She hesitated, looking from me to him and back again. “Oh, I don’t mind, honey. Whatever
you
want is fine with me,” she replied sweetly.

I started to speak, but his gaze cut me short. I noticed they were still holding hands.

I folded. "Okay, you're right. Sure, why not?" I said, trying to convince myself, even as I deliberately avoided making eye contact with Julie.

"Great!" Roger bellowed, and then putting one arm around each of us, he led us toward the exit.

Roger's car was parked right in front, and as we approached it, he pulled his keys out of his pocket and handed them to me.

"Hey, buddy," he said, "you better drive. I'm a bit bombed."

I'd had more than a few and I was not really comfortable with driving his expensive Mercedes. I was still pondering that when he pushed me into the driver's seat. He opened the back door for Julie, and after it shut, I waited for him to come around to the passenger seat. It wasn’t until I heard giggles from the back that I realized he'd slid in beside Julie.

"You remember where I live, right?" He said, prompting me to start driving.

"Um, sure," I muttered under my breath, but I realized he wasn't listening to me. He and Julie were again sharing a whispered conversation.

I cleared my throat. “So, what are you guys talking about? I’m beginning to feel a little like a chauffeur up here.”

“Don’t worry about us, Jack. We’ve got plenty of things to keep us busy back here. Isn’t that right, Jules?”

She chuckled. “Right as rain. A whole book of things.”

“Look, maybe this has gone far enough,” I noted.

They just laughed.

He tapped me on the shoulder. "Here take these, Jules doesn't want to lose them," he said as he dropped her sheer panties in my lap.

I felt my throat catch. I was speechless. I reached down and rubbed the rough, delicate fabric between my fingertips. They were moist with her excitement.

As if to confirm my observation, my wife let out a low moan from the backseat.

I adjusted the rearview mirror to see into the backseat and was greeted with a lewd tableau. Julie's legs were spread wide, her dress bunched up around her waist. With one hand, Roger was enthusiastically fingering her closely trimmed pussy. With his other hand, he'd pulled one of her full boobs from her dress and was rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Julie seemed to love it. Her pussy was making obscene, wet, squishing sounds as he repeatedly jammed one, two, then three fingers into her over and over. Her nipples were rock hard, her areolas puffy and waxy. Her head was thrown back against the headrest, eyes closed, and her mouth making a perfect "o" as she moaned softly.

The alternating light and dark as we passed under streetlights created a near-psychedelic strobe-light effect. At one point, Roger leaned in and took her firm nipple into his mouth. Julie's orgasmic growl nearly caused me to side-swipe a row of parked cars.

"Keep your eyes on the road," Roger cautioned.

"Sorry," I muttered in response, metaphorically kicking myself even as I said it.

Thankfully, we were almost there. We pulled into his garage, and he directed me into a reserved space. I opened the door for them, and Roger helped Julie out of the back. She seemed dazed and maybe a little unsteady, but he grabbed her firmly around the waist and led her to the elevator.

I peered into the car to find her strapless bra abandoned on the seat. I picked it up and stuffed it into my pocket with the panties.

By then they had walked away, arm-in-arm, laughing. I chased after them, just barely reaching the elevator before the door closed. I stepped in. They looked at me amused.

“I thought you might have decided to wait in the car,” Julie said.

Is that what she wanted? Was she dismissing me?

“No,” Roger commented, “I knew Jack would want to watch.”

“Now wait just a moment –“

He reached across me, cutting me off. He pushed the button for the top floor, and then pulled Julie into another embrace. Her eyes met mine for just a second before closing. They kissed wetly, tongues thrusting into each other's mouths.

He had his hand inside her dress, casually cupping her breast as they made out. She acted like I wasn’t even there. She wasn’t playing to me. This wasn’t about turning me on or anything like that. It was like he had her under some sort of spell.

It is hard to explain how I could just stand there and say nothing. Part of it was shock. Julie had never expressed any interest in Roger, so this was completely out of the blue. Part of it, though, was that I couldn’t believe it was really happening. It felt like a dream. A weird out-of-body experience.

Maybe I was under a spell as well. There was, I have to admit, something hypnotic about watching them. Their mouths hungrily devouring each other. The confident way her fondled her hard, red nipples.

When we reach his floor, he and Julie again led the way, limbs impossibly intertwined. I knew I could stop this if I could just get her alone, but somehow the idea of confronting him seemed impossible or maybe just terrifying. What if he refused to stop? What if they both did? Would it be better to pretend it wasn’t bothering me rather than have them continue despite my objections.

It was as if Roger had decided to claim my wife as a Christmas present for himself. And if I couldn’t do anything about it, then maybe the best thing to do would be to make it seem as if I were okay with it.

Merry Christmas, Roger. Bring her back in one piece, okay?

But I couldn’t bring myself to say that either. I wanted to grab my wife by the arm. Yank her away. Throw Roger’s envelope of fucking blood money in his face. And run away. Far, far away.

Roger opened the door and turned on the lights. He's got a stunning penthouse loft, with amazing views of the city. I closed the door behind me.