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I took my hand off the handle. I stayed exactly where I was.
Fiona saw me decide. Her eyes widened, then went dark and heavy. She reached up, pulled Ross’s head down and kissed him, keeping one eye open on the glass.
He worked her with his fingers until she came. I watched it happen. Her thighs clamped round his wrist, her back arched, and her mouth opened in a silent cry. Her eyes never left mine.
Then she pushed Ross back onto the sofa and climbed on top of him.
She unbuckled him, pulled him out and stroked him. Ross was thick and flushed and groaning. She grabbed a condom from the coffee table, where we’d left a bowl of them like party snacks, tore it open with her teeth and rolled it down his cock.
Then she sank down on him. Slowly. Facing the door. Facing me.
I watched my wife’s face as my best friend’s cock filled her. I watched her lips part and her eyelids flutter. She put her hands on her own tits and squeezed, and started to ride.
My jeans were open. My cock was in my fist. I was standing in my own hallway in my socks, wanking through a glass panel like a teenager, and it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen in my life.
She rode him faster, staring at me, and mouthed two words.
Come in.
Or I could stay hidden and finish here.