Category: IST

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I stayed upstairs. I’d promised her. I’d promised myself.

It was the longest hour of my life.

I lay on the bed in the dark and listened. The music downstairs stopped at some point, and that made it worse, because then there was nothing to hide the sounds. Laughter. Murmuring. A thump, like something knocked off the coffee table. And then her.

I know every noise Fiona makes. The little sigh when I kiss her neck. The sharp gasp when I find her clit. The long low moan that means she’s getting close. I heard every single one of them through the floor, one after the other, and none of them were for me.

My cock was so hard it hurt. I didn’t touch it. I don’t know why. Some idea that I should wait for her.

Then the moaning stopped. Silence. Then quiet voices. Then, after a while, the sound of the front door opening and closing. A car starting in the street.

Ross was gone.

I heard her climb the stairs slowly. The bedroom door creaked. She stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the landing light, her dress hanging open, hair wild, holding her knickers in one hand.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Obviously I’m awake.”

She came and sat on the edge of the bed. She smelled of sex and of Ross’s aftershave, and I’d never wanted her more.

“Do you want to know?” she asked quietly.

→ I tell her yes, I want to hear everything

→ I tell her not tonight and roll over

← Back

I crept down the stairs in my socks, every step a betrayal of the deal and I didn’t care.

From the bottom step, through the glass panel in the living room door, I could see the sofa.

Fiona was lying back on it, her dress open, her bra pushed down under her tits. Ross was kneeling on the floor between her legs, his face buried in her neck, one big hand squeezing her breast, the other sliding slowly up the inside of her thigh.

She had her eyes closed and her mouth open. Her hips were lifting off the cushions to meet his hand.

I’d thought I would feel jealous. I did, for about a second, a hot hard punch under my ribs. Then the jealousy turned into something else entirely, something that made my cock throb so hard I had to lean on the banister.

His fingers reached the lace of her knickers. She gasped. “Ross.”

“Okay?”

“God, yes.”

He slid his hand inside her knickers and she arched off the sofa with a moan I felt in my teeth.

Then her eyes opened. And she looked straight past his shoulder at the glass panel. Straight at me.

She didn’t stop him. She didn’t say anything. She just held my gaze while his fingers moved inside her, and slowly, deliberately, she licked her lips.

My hand was on the door handle. I could walk in. Or I could stay right where I was, on the other side of the glass, and watch.

→ I open the door and go in to join them

→ I stay behind the glass and keep watching

← Back

“Don’t make him wait,” I said. “Go on.”

Fiona hesitated for a heartbeat. Then she crossed the room and sat down on the sofa next to Ross, close, her bare knee against his jeans.

Ross went rigid. Not the good kind. The panicking kind.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he said. Then, to me, “Cal, mate, are you absolutely…”

“I’m sure.”

Fiona took the wine glass out of his hand and put it on the coffee table. She touched his face. He was trembling. I’d known him nineteen years and I’d never seen Ross tremble, not at his wedding, not at his divorce, not when he broke his collarbone in a scrum.

She kissed him. Gently.

He didn’t kiss back at first. Then he did, all at once, his big hand sliding into her hair, and she made a small hungry sound that went straight to my cock.

They kissed for a long time. His hand moved to her waist, then hovered over the tie of her dress, and stopped there.

He broke the kiss and looked at me. His face was red, his breathing ragged. “I can’t…” he said. “It’s weird with you sitting there. I’m sorry. I want to, God, I want to, but I keep thinking you’re going to deck me.”

Fiona looked at me too. Flushed, lips swollen, a little helpless.

The whole evening was balanced on whatever I said next.

→ I tell Ross it’s fine and give him permission out loud

→ I stay quiet and let them work it out

← Back

“Come here,” I said. “Me first.”

Her smile could have lit the street. She put the wine down, walked over and climbed into my lap in the armchair, knees either side of my hips, her dress riding up her thighs.

“Hello, husband,” she whispered.

She kissed me. Deep and hungry, more than she’d kissed me in months. Her hips started rolling, slow, grinding down onto my cock through my jeans. I groaned into her mouth.

“He’s watching,” she breathed against my lips. “Ross is watching us. Can you feel how wet that makes me?”

I could. Even through her knickers and my jeans, I could feel the heat of her.

She reached down and pulled the tie on her dress. It fell open. Underneath was a black lace bra and knickers I’d definitely never seen, sheer enough to show her dark nipples. She shrugged the dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

Ross made a sound behind her like he’d been punched.

Fiona kept her eyes on mine. She ground on me harder, took my hands and put them on her tits, squeezing them through the lace with her own fingers over mine.

“I love you,” she said. “Tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m more than okay.”

“Tell me to go to him.”

My heart thudded. Over her shoulder, Ross was sitting forward on the sofa, jaw slack, palming himself through his jeans.

“How far, Cal?” she whispered. “Tell me how far.”

→ I tell her to go to him and let it go as far as she wants

→ I tell her to go to him, but only a kiss for now

← Back

“Not tonight,” I said.

She went still. Then she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

I rolled over to face the wall. I don’t know why. I’d wanted this. I’d said yes to this. For three weeks I’d been hard every night thinking about it. And now she was sitting on the edge of our bed smelling of my best friend, and something in me had locked shut.

I felt her lie down behind me, not touching.

“Cal,” she said quietly. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then talk to me.”

“I’m tired, Fi.”

“You’re not tired. I can hear you not being tired.”

She was right. I lay there wide awake, my heart going, my cock still half hard, my head full of the noises I’d heard through the floor. The jealousy and the arousal were so tangled up together that I couldn’t find where one stopped and the other started.

She waited. A long time.

Then I felt her hand on my back. Just resting between my shoulder blades. Warm.

“I love you,” she said. “Nothing that happened down there changes that. Nothing could.”

I didn’t move. Part of me wanted to turn over, pull her into me and ask her for every filthy detail. Part of me wanted to pretend the whole night had never happened.

Her hand stayed where it was, patient, waiting to see which part of me would win.

→ I turn over and ask her to tell me after all

→ I stay facing the wall and pretend to sleep

← Back

“Everything,” I said. “Tell me everything.”

She lay down next to me, propped on one elbow, and started talking.

How he’d been so nervous he’d knocked his wine over. How she’d climbed onto his lap to calm him down and felt him get hard under her in about two seconds. How he’d kissed her like he’d been waiting nineteen years to do it.

While she talked, her hand slid down my stomach and wrapped round my cock.

“Then he took my dress off,” she said, stroking me slowly. “And he just stared. He said, ‘Fuck, Fi.’ Just that. And then he put his mouth on me.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.” Her hand tightened. “My tits. My stomach. Then he went down on me on our sofa, Cal. On the sofa we bought from John Lewis.”

I groaned. She laughed softly and kept stroking.

“I came on his tongue,” she whispered. “Twice. And then I made him stop.”

“Stop?”

“I wanted you to see the rest.” She stopped stroking, holding my cock still in her fist. “He’s still awake. He texted. He’s sitting in his car at the end of the road. He says he can come back if you want to watch.”

My heart slammed.

“Or,” she said, kissing my shoulder, “we just keep this for ourselves. Tonight was enough. And we decide about next time later.”

→ I tell her to text him to come back

→ I tell her tonight was enough

← Back

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.

→ I stay hidden and watch until the end

→ I turn around and go back upstairs

← Back

I opened the door.

Ross jumped like he’d been shot and yanked his hand out of her knickers. “Cal! Mate, I…”

“Don’t stop,” I said. “Please don’t stop.”

Fiona held her arm out to me. I went to her, knelt on the floor beside the sofa and kissed her, deep, while Ross stared at us. She tasted of wine and of him.

“Help him,” she whispered against my mouth. “Both of you. Please.”

Ross’s hand went back between her legs, slower now, careful. I kissed her neck, her breasts, sucked one nipple into my mouth while he stroked her. She moaned so loud I worried about the neighbours.

Then Ross pulled her knickers down her legs and dropped them on the floor. He looked at me. Asking.

I nodded.

He bent his head and licked her. Long and slow, from the bottom to the top. Fiona’s back came clean off the sofa.

I kept kissing her mouth while my best friend ate my wife. Her moans poured into me. Her nails dug into my arm. I could hear him, wet and greedy, and feel her whole body shaking under my hand.

She broke the kiss, gasping. “Cal. Cal, I want…”

Ross lifted his head, lips glistening, and started unbuttoning his jeans with one hand. He looked at me again.

Something hot and sharp flared in my chest. Possessive. Primal. My wife, spread out on my sofa, about to be fucked by another man.

→ I tell them to keep it to mouths and hands

→ I tell Ross to stop, she’s mine

← Back

I didn’t say anything. I’d told them it was their call. I sat back in the armchair and let it be their call.

The silence went on too long.

Ross rubbed his face with both hands. “Sorry. God, sorry, Fi. You’re gorgeous. You’re… honestly, you’re the most gorgeous… I just keep seeing his face over your shoulder.”

“It’s fine,” Fiona said softly, though her cheeks were burning. “Honestly.”

“It’s not fine. I’ve wanted this for years. Don’t tell anyone I said that.” He laughed miserably. “And now I’m here and I can’t.”

Fiona sat back on the sofa, a little apart from him. Her dress had slipped off one shoulder. She looked at me, then at Ross, and I saw something change in her face. A sort of wicked determination.

“Okay,” she said. “Then don’t touch.”

“What?”

“Don’t touch me. Just sit there and watch.” She stood up and pulled the tie on her dress. It fell open. Black lace. Ross groaned. “I’ve imagined you watching me for three weeks, Ross. That counts.”

She glanced back at me, and her eyes were saying the same thing as her mouth. Is this okay?

Ross looked at me as well. He looked like a man desperately hoping I’d tell him to stay. And a man desperately hoping I’d tell him he could go home.

→ I tell Ross to stay put and enjoy the show

→ I tell Ross there’s no pressure and he can go if he wants

← Back

“Ross,” I said. “Look at me.”

He looked.

“I want this. She wants this. You want this. Nobody’s getting decked.” I swallowed. “Take her dress off, mate.”

Fiona let out a shaky laugh. Ross let out a long breath, like he’d been holding it for three weeks. Then he turned back to my wife and pulled the tie on her dress.

It fell open. Black lace underneath, sheer, her nipples dark and hard through it. Ross stared at her like he’d never seen a woman before.

“Fuck, Fi,” he whispered. “Nineteen years I’ve been not looking at you.”

“Look now.”

He did more than look. His mouth went to her neck, her collarbone, her breast through the lace. She arched into him with a moan and dragged his shirt over his head. Within a minute her bra was on the floor, his jeans were open, and her hand was wrapped around his cock, stroking it slow while she kissed him.

She lay back on the sofa and pulled him down on top of her. He slid her knickers down her legs. Then he hesitated, his cock pressed against her thigh.

“Condom,” he said. “I’ve, uh. I’ve got one. In my wallet.”

Fiona looked past him at me, flushed and wide-eyed, and said quietly, “Or we don’t. He’s been tested. I’m on the pill.” She bit her lip. “It’s up to Cal.”

Ross froze, looking at me too.

→ I tell him to use the condom

→ I say no condom, go bare