Page 70 of Marry Lies
She’s lying down on her bed, legs spread, facing the door of the bathroom. Facingme.I can’t see anything indecent, since she’s still wearing black underwear, but I can’t look away from her writhing body.
She groans again as the white, magic wand slides up and down her slit, pausing as she presses it harder against her clit. Slowly, I begin to unzip my pants—which are still damp from cleaning myself off. I lick my palm, take my aching length in my hand, and fuck up into it. I meet her tempo as she bucks her hips, suppressing the moan that threatens to escape my clenched jaw.
Why would I ever need to hire a couple again when I’m married to Estelle? This is a thousand times better than a stranger…
“Fuck,” she whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as her legs snap together. “Miles…”
Spread those legs, Estelle. Let me see how wet you get when you think of me.
Let me see what you like so I cantake notesfor the future.
I shouldn’t think it, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to learn her tells, to see what gets her off.
Her body twitches a few times as she throws her head back, and I realize with a start that she’s close. Working my hand faster and tighter, I imagine pushing the door open.
I imagine standing next to the bed and locking eyes with her as she gasps my name, as she trembles on her orange duvet cover.
I imagine lifting her sweater and coming all over those soft tits, painting her butterfly tattoo with my cum.
Rubbing the head of my cock a few times to spread the precum, my orgasm builds. Estelle is circling her hips, gyrating against the wand instead of moving her hand, and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I haven’t gotten myself off twice in a row like this in a long time, but watching her?
I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of watching my wife come.
The flushed chest.
The eyes she insists on squeezing shut.
The trembling hands and curled toes.
She spreads her legs again, this time bringing her knees up a bit. Her ass lifts off the duvet as she cries out, and I watch in rapture as she climaxes mere feet away from me.
It pushes me over the edge—and I grip onto the door frame with my free hand as my spend streaks all over the bathroom floor, creating a mess. I’m breathing heavily as her cries echo through the suite, feeling my cock pulse out the last of my depleted balls.
When I’m finished, I look down as panic begins to set in.
Quickly glancing up, I see Estelle lying on her back with her arm over her eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly.
I tuck myself away, walking over to my sink and grabbing the hand towel. Cleaning up the floor as quietly as I can, I quickly walk back into my room where I sit on my bed with my head in my hands.
What the fuck did I just do?
That was, hands down, the creepiest thing I’ve ever done.
I watched her in a private moment, but not only that, I couldn’t stop myself from doing it.
The notion of watching her has become so compulsive, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to stop. Now that I know how she looks…
How she sounds…
I’ll never be able to stay away.
My mind races with thoughts of sneaking into the bathroom when she’s showering, of watching her sleep, of glancing out of the window while she’s on her morning walk.
God, I’ve opened Pandora’s Box.
I’m thoroughly and inconvenientlyobsessedwith her.
I have to actively tamp down the guilt that threatens to derail me. I must ignore it in favor of giving myself distance—giving myself the night to wallow. To think. If I talk to her now, there’s no telling what I’ll do.
