The Christmas Exhibition (26 page)

BOOK: The Christmas Exhibition
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Jill kissed him harder and nibbled on his lower lip.

             
I sighed. She was in complete control. Nothing I said, whether in defiance or subservience, would change her behaviour.

             
The kiss was broken. “The taxi isn't for us,
baby
.” She squeezed Gary's cock through his trousers at the final word, teasing me with a phrase she usually reserved for when we were in private. “I've ordered it for
you
.” Jill stood up and found the zip of her denim skirt. “I'm going to fuck my
boyfriend
,
and I don't want you around when I do it.”

             
My insides crashed together. Butterflies in my stomach became fireworks in my chest. My heart pounded. Amok with betrayal and with punishment. And yet there were no words of protest which escaped my lips.

             
Jill pulled down her skirt, revealing her g-string clad ass in all its glory. Her red heels stepped out. She was dressed only in her stunning lingerie. Lingerie
I
had bought her. Lingerie
I
loved her in. And lingerie she rarely indulged in wearing for
me
anymore.
She straddled Gary, his legs relaxing beneath her. Jealousy pumped through my veins. Gary's hands mauled her backside. They kissed again. She rubbed herself up and down on his crotch. His erection was poking through his trousers and she glided her pussy over it with expert precision.

             
“I can't wait for you to fuck me when he leaves,” Jill told him.

             
“I will... I'll fuck you really hard,” Gary replied, shedding his shyness.

             
My cock fought for freedom in the restraints of its coffin. My mind muddled through a multiple myriad of possibilities and probabilities. The sexual extremities of their impending night of passion was upon us. I lost myself in the impossible aftermath of my leaving. Would I seriously allow my fiancée to fuck another man without me around?
Her adultery fantasy –
my
fantasy of
her
adultery – had fuelled our fantasies for years.
I couldn't. I
just
couldn't. Could... I?

             
Her g-string stretched around the crack of her ass as she splayed her legs and invited Gary closer.

             
Then I was struck suddenly, shattering the charade. Of course! I was
supposed
to fall for Jill's bluff. She
hadn't ordered a taxi at all. It was merely her creative attempt to turn me on. And it had worked. My suffering – my humiliation at her maliciousness – had stretched my cock to new lengths. My need for her expanding forcefully to new heights. For her sexuality. For her sensuality. For her downright degradation.

             
Jill malevolently swooped her tongue down from above, molesting Gary's mouth. Her body curved and craved to his touch.

             
I faded further into her irrelevance, and my testicles bloated in twisted appreciation.

             
“I need your cock, Gary,” Jill said. “I wish that taxi would hurry up.”

             
I smiled. Every part of her effort for the evening had been perfect. The elaborate hoax all the more thrilling because it had been her creation alone, and never discussed nor implied beforehand.

             
A horn triple-blasted outside.

             
“Oh, about time,” she said.

             
My eyes darted from Jill to the curtains and back again. She was dry-humping Gary, seizing his neck and staring lustfully into his eyes.

             
“Are you serious?” I asked.

             
I was almost certain Jill whispered something in his ear.

             
My heart pumped faster as I stood. I crossed the room to the window, looking back at their coupling in agonising, embarrassing fury. I pulled back the curtain and peered outside. “Fuck!” There was a vehicle at the end of the driveway. A red roof light in view. “You really booked it?”

             
Jill sighed, her frustration clear. “Yes.” She kissed his lips. “Now get out, Matt.” Gary's fingertips fell inside the thin g-string at her ass. “This is your punishment. You know what for.” She rubbed his cock through his trousers. “Tonight, I really do belong to Gary.”

             
“Yeah,” he said, and gave her ass a playful spank and a squeeze.

             
There was an unplanned, worthless feeling to my demise, as I stood watching him take charge of my fiancée. It was a step I had neither anticipated nor sought to indulge. Yet somehow I found myself stood at the living room door, preparing to comply with Jill's demand that they be left alone. I struggled, yet internally acknowledged that I would do whatever she wanted. I stared, wishing for permission to stay. Preparing for compromise, willing to retreat alone upstairs while they fucked. Willing to listen and to imagine. To masturbate and be grateful.

             
Jill whispered. Definitely this time.

             
Gary looked at me, then whispered back to her, his hands on her waist now in a complete display of ownership.

             
Jill turned her head to me. “You can...” Her eyes erotic. “Leave...” Devilish. “Now.”

             
“But-”

             
“Go, Matt. Have a few drinks and unwind. Gary wants me to himself, and what he wants he gets.” Jill's glance to him was stamped with devotion. “He's the man of the house when he's here.” Their lips met. “Aren't you?”

             
“Yes,” he said, and his fingers caressed the naked flesh of her ass.

             
I was staring.

             
“Get out, Matt,” she said, louder. “And take a good mental image of this with you.”

             
My reluctance ceded to Jill's dominance. My terror capitulated to her desire. My possession surrendered to her debauchery. I allowed the living room door to gently close behind me, watching her in his arms one last time.

             
“Don't forget to lock the front door,” Jill called. “Unless you don't mind someone walking in and catching another man fucking your wife-to-be.”

 

3

 

I went to a different pub than the one the taxi was ordered for. One where I was less likely to bump into someone I knew. My mind would never focus on any conversation and I wanted to be left alone. Such thoughts that I had going through my mind. Such imagery she had planted.

             
I ordered a pint of beer and found a table. I took out my mobile and set it before me. I watched it like a hawk, hoping to receive a text or a call about what was happening. My cock was hard within seconds. I contemplated texting Jill, writing out several beginnings but neither finishing nor sending any.

             
I was fortunate when a gorgeous barmaid came to lift my empty glass and asked if I wanted the same again. A trip to the bar was something I couldn't possibly achieve.

             
The time on the phone told me I had been away for over half an hour. It would take no longer than that again to drink a second beer. How long was I supposed to wait for?

             
“There you go,” said the barmaid.

             
I gave her the precise change and watched her tight ass as she walked back to the bar. She was anywhere between 18 and 21. Every man's eyes were upon her. I thought of Jill, and wondered what was happening to her right at that moment. Another man's eyes were on her, of that I was certain. The blood surged to my cock and I downed a good mouthful of my pint.

             
My phone lit up. 1 message received. There was a catapult of excitement in my stomach. My fingers raced to unlock. My eyes focused to read.

             
“Fuck sake,” I complained aloud.

             
A simple network standard text to inform me I was now benefiting from- I hit delete without reading anymore.

             
My compassion for Jill's desire to explore her sexuality with someone else – someone with whom she was already sexually familiar – convoluted and contorted within the memory of the disparaging dismissal I had received. Jealousy tore at my arousal. Disbelief drained at my composure. I fixed my erection as best I could under the table, hoping not to draw unnecessary attention.

             
I finished the second beer and wondered whether I should leave. Jill hadn't told me how I would know when to return. What if they were finished and she expected me home earlier than this? What if I turned up and she was furious at my interruption? I held the thought. Jill was my fiancée. I could handle her hostility.

             
I stood up and held my mobile phone in front of my crotch. I crossed the bar to the exit and placed a call to the taxi company.

             
Circumstance melted my resolve, giving rise to aggravation, as I was told there would be no taxis available for another hour.

             
Traffic thundered by.

             
I insisted it was an emergency, suggesting I would be willing to share a taxi if any were already booked for the pub. The woman on the end of the line checked.

             
I waited. My heart pounded as I recalled Gary's hands on Jill's magnificent rear. His tongue in her mouth.

             
“I'm sorry, there's no taxis booked for where you are.”

             
I hung up. My frustration somehow only adding to my arousal.

             
Rihanna's We Found Love
pumped
from inside the pub. A group of three sexy, young women walked towards me in short skirts and knee-high boots. One of them smiled as they passed. They
would
make for a welcome distraction. Then my mind conjured an image of Jill bent over the coffee table, taking a doggy style fucking and screaming with desire.

             
I started the walk home. It would only take twenty minutes or so.

 

4

 

When I got to the front door it had been raining heavily for the last five minutes. I put my key in the lock. But it wouldn't open. I tried again, blaming the beer. But no – someone had locked it from the inside, and left the key in! My jealousy stirred to new heights, humiliation bordering upon insult. Whatever was happening inside, Jill didn't want me barging in.

             
I knocked and knocked. Several times and yet there was no answer. I grabbed my mobile and dialled her number at once. It rang and rang. There was a fury growing inside now. If she ignored me completely...

             
Jill answered, giggling. “What is it?”

             
“Can you let me in please?” There was sarcasm to my manners. “I'm standing at the front door and someone's put a key in the door.”

             
She laughed. “Yes, we're not long finished.”

             
I hung up and waited patiently for close to a minute. It was Gary who opened the door and allowed me into my own home. He was wearing only his trousers. There was an awkwardness between us. He was the quiet type at the best of times and I was utterly lost for words myself. Although I bore him no animosity. It was my fiancée who had changed the rules.

             
Jill wasn't to be found in the living room. I walked through to the kitchen, also empty, and finally into the conservatory where I could only stand and stare at her sitting naked on a sofa, with her legs closed together but not crossed.

             
“What if Sebastian or Francesca, or old man Jenkins on the other side, looks over the fence and sees you like that?” I said.

             
“Don't be silly,” she replied, and looked at my wet clothes. “Nobody in their right mind would be out in that weather.”

             
Gary entered the room and sat beside her, slipping an arm around her bare waist.

             
“Besides,” Jill continued, “he likes me like this.”

             
Gary nodded. “Absolutely.”

             
It seemed instinctive when she leaned into him, his arm wrapping around her even tighter. It didn't appear to matter that I was there. When Gary was in the house, Jill was apparently his. The distinction scared me. The image of him and her enticed me. The chemistry between them shamefully arousing me.

             
I sat opposite and watched, dying to ask a dozen questions. Yet for some reason I couldn't. Not while he was there. I was embarrassed. I was disgraced. Gary had assumed ownership of my wife-to-be and somehow I felt under his authority. As crazy as that sounded.

BOOK: The Christmas Exhibition
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