Watching Her With The Lawyers (2 page)

3

O
f course, she said no at the time. It would have been career suicide. Besides, she thought the guys were assholes, and why give assholes the pleasure of coming all over her face, down her asshole, inside her pussy? It wasn’t even a consideration at the time.

But that was two months ago, and now as I sit here in my office, I cannot help but think that there’s a reason this is all coming back to me now. We’re looking to take this one step farther, aren’t we? Raise the stakes? Up the ante? The last time it was three new men. Now it’s time for four, isn’t it? And we’ve got four ripe for the picking. Four lawyers. And there’s something about the idea of watching these four young, arrogant, Ivy-Leaguers groan and shout as they come all over my Cynthia that makes me excited.

I think about it all day in the office as I go through the motions, answering emails, shuffling papers, getting on conference calls and trying to sound professional. My cock is hard all fucking day, and my underwear feels wet from all the pre-cum that has been oozing out of me as I imagine my Cynthia with these four lawyers, every cock hard, every hole filled.

I imagine myself watching, perhaps standing outside the conference room. Maybe it’s one of those rooms with the glass walls. Maybe it happens at night, with all the lights off in the office except for the bright white lights of that conference room. The room is lit up like a stage or an arena on Fight Night, and I think of my sweet Cynthia getting undressed by these assholes, pushed down onto the cluttered mahogany conference table, spread wide, opened up, cocks fighting for access to her mouth, her ass, her cunt as she writhes and gasps, whimpers and shivers, sucks Marcos’s big brown cock while jerking off Anders’s long white one, bucking her hips as pinstriped Jack comes in her asshole even as Parker stretches her cunt with the girth of his made-in-the-Bronx shaft.

Somehow I make it through the day without jerking off or coming in my pants, and I drive home as fast as I dare, barely stopping at the Stop signs in our neighborhood as I screech into our driveway as if my sex drive is fueling my car.

But I am disappointed to see that Cynthia isn’t home, and I fucking SHOUT in frustration as I crack a beer and sink into the couch to wait, my cock still semi-hard despite my annoyance. Still, I hold back from rubbing one out, and I decide to wait for my wife.

Cynthia is in a foul mood when she gets home, and although she is usually ready to have sex in the evenings before dinner, she is clearly not in the mood right now. So although I have been aching for it all day, I grit my teeth, hold my horses, and ask my wife the classic question:

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

She forces a smile as she tosses her bag onto the couch and slips off her shoes. With a sigh she sinks into the armchair, and I sit down across from the coffee table, my cock pitching a tent in my pants, a patient smile on my face as I wait for her to respond.

Cynthia glances at my cock and lets out an exhausted chuckle. “I know, honey,” she says. “Just give me a minute. It’s just been . . .”

I nod and then shake my head, indicating that hey, I have a hard-on, sure, but I am here to talk. I am always here to talk.

“The lawyers?” I say without thinking.

She looks at me with surprise for a moment and then nods. Things have calmed down with the lawyers since the first few weeks, so she hasn’t talked about them recently. But I know the case is drawing to an end and tensions are running high as the five of them work long hours under serious pressure. Still, Cynthia hasn’t complained about anything specific besides the long hours for over a month now.

“Yeah,” she says finally. “For a while there it seemed like we were all getting along. I mean, they were still assholes in general, but after the first month they stopped being assholes to ME, you know? They saw that I was a great asset to their team, and it almost seemed like we . . . we . . . were having fun.”

I nod and then shrug. “Yeah, babe. But now the pressure’s back on again, right? You said the case is almost done, and everyone’s running on low sleep. When the stakes are high, people get nervous and defensive. Don’t lose your cool, hon.”

Cynthia takes a breath and blinks as she smiles at me, a clear, affectionate smile. “Yeah,” she says, and now her expression hardens, and I swear I see some anger in there, maybe even fear. Mostly anger though. “Yeah, the stakes are high. And the case is almost done. But things aren’t going our way. Most likely we’re going to have to settle out of court, and our company is going to have to pay up big.”

“Really?” I say. This is news to me, and it is bad news. “How bad is it?”

Cynthia sighs again. “Bad. Like someone-may-get-fired bad.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Who? You?”

Cynthia smiles now. “I hope not. Probably not.”

“One of the lawyers?” I ask.

Cynthia shrugs. She stays quiet.

I frown as I try to read her expression. “ALL of the lawyers?” I say now, one eyebrow raised.

Now Cynthia speaks after taking another deep breath. “So what happened was that one of the documents we released last week to the other party had something incriminating in it. It just slipped in there, and it basically killed our case. The document came from the five of us, the lawyers and me, so clearly it’s our mistake. A HUGE mistake.”

I whistle as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees, studying Cynthia’s face, which looks very thin and pale right now. “So everyone’s playing the blame game in that conference room now,” I say. “No one wants to take the fall.” I pause for a moment. “So whose mistake was it, Cyn?”

Cynthia blinks and looks down at the carpet. “Truth is, it’s probably all of us. I provided the raw information and then the lawyers worked it into legalese. It was part of a larger document, so all the lawyers had their hands in it. They all went over the final document. Anyone could have caught the mistake before the document went out. All of us SHOULD have caught it.”

“Whoa now,” I say, my gaze narrowing for a moment. “Not ALL of you. You’re not a lawyer. The final legal document isn’t your responsibility.”

Cynthia shrugs and offers a small smile. “Yeah, but . . . I don’t know . . . I almost feel sorry for those guys. I mean, we’ve had our ups and downs over the past couple of months, and right now I am a bit pissed with all the name-calling and yelling, but I do feel part of their team now. If they go down, there’s a part of me that thinks I should go down with them.”

I am starting to get angry now listening to my wife talk. What, you’re going to throw away your career for some arrogant prick lawyers? Because you feel “part of their team”? What the fuck?

But then through my indignation a strange thought emerges, and suddenly I wonder if this is a blessing in disguise, a gift from the heavens, a boon from the goddesses of sex and fucking. Is it a coincidence that all day I’ve been thinking about Cynthia getting taken by these guys, and now here we are talking about how all five of them are probably going to get fired?

The living room fades away as I watch my wife speak. I cannot hear her voice, and I feel my cock getting hard as a goddamn pipe now. Still in my trance, I stand up and walk over to my Cynthia, my cock sticking grotesquely out in front of me through my thin gym shorts.

Cynthia is smiling a bit now, and I think she is ready. But I don’t care if she’s ready or not, and I stop in front of her and push two fingers into her mouth as I hastily push my shorts down with my other hand, unleashing my erection and bringing it close to my wife’s wet mouth.

And as I feel her hands curl under my warm balls as I start to slide my cock down her throat, I grasp her head, look down at her, and then say, “Listen, babe. I have an idea. If you guys are going down, then maybe it does make sense to go down together.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, almost to myself as I feel the suction on my cock as Cynthia turns her body and gives me her full attention. “You should all go down together. While I watch.”

Yes, while I watch.

4

I
t doesn’t take much convincing for Cynthia to get on board, and as I buck my hips and pour my hot cum down her throat, my fingers clawing at her soft brown hair as I look down at my wife sucking me off with passion and fury, I wonder how long she’s been thinking about this. Maybe she was leading me to it, planning this from the very beginning, perhaps from the day she met these four lawyers and imagined herself being ravaged by them.

I am quiet over dinner as I allow these paranoid thoughts to flow through my imagination. Are we back to playing this game, this game where Cynthia won’t actually tell me she’s ready to get fucked again by strangers, banged again by casual acquaintances, filled once more by new men, men that aren’t me?

The last time we did something like this was with those three waiters, and I smile as I stare at my thirty-seven year old wife delicately eating a dinner salad across from me. I watch her pretty red lips open and close, and I think back to how many different cocks have been in there over the past few months. A lot, I know. But every one of them with my permission, my blessing, my encouragement even. What the hell am I paranoid and worked up about?

I smile at my own thoughts as I watch Cynthia dab her lips with a napkin and then stand up from the table, bending over slightly as she pushes out her chair. I catch sight of her heavy cleavage, those boobs of hers that so many other men have drooled over like dogs, suckled on like pigs, cum on like they couldn’t help themselves. This is my wife, goddammit, and I am a lucky, lucky bastard!

My own cock is moving against my leg again, and now I feel all that paranoia and angst slip away as I catch Cynthia looking up at me, her eyes telling me everything I need to know, answering every question I have.

I am your wife and I am yours alone, she is telling me with that look. But we are not the same people we were even a year ago. This is not the same marriage it was before we crossed that first line with Mark the neighbor. We are both different, and our marriage is different. This game we’re playing has changed everything. But it is still a marriage and I still love you like no other, and I want to grow old with you and no one else. You are my man and you will always be my man, no matter how many cocks slide in and out of my mouth, explode inside my cunt, pour their loads into my asshole. We’re playing this game because we BOTH want to play this game.

I nod silently, looking down at my food as I feel an overwhelming rush of emotion. The little bit of anger and conflict I just felt is part of the game, I know—a BIG part of the game. Our marriage is stronger for it. WE are stronger for it. Sure, the escalation of our needs is troubling, because how much farther can we go to chase that high, that rush of fresh adventure?

But those are questions for later, I think as I watch Cynthia’s round ass move under her long t-shirt as she carries her plate to the kitchen. Right now we are about to walk into our latest adventure.

And so let the games begin.

Let the motherfucking games BEGIN!

5

I
t is ten days later when I get the call. Cynthia and I decided that this wouldn’t be a pre-planned thing—not in the least. We got such a rush out of getting those three waiters to undress my wife in that restaurant that both Cynthia and I want to push that angle again. Again, but with one important difference.

“This time I want to watch you seduce them yourself,” I told her last week when we were trying to figure out the best way to do it. “I want to stay hidden until everything gets going. I don’t want them to know I’m watching until the end.”

Cynthia looked up at me and blinked hard when I said that, and I could see the color rush to her face and then leave it almost as fast. This is something new for her, I know. Something new for me too. Sure, Cynthia seduced all the previous guys, in a way. But I was there each time, and in fact with the waiters it was me who invited them to undress Cynthia, to squeeze her tits, touch her clit, lick her asshole. But now I wanted to watch her in action by herself. Oh, FUCK that got me hard as I said it, the thought of seeing my wife flirt with these lawyers while I stayed hidden in the dark, watching as she laughed and smiled, swayed her hips, stuck out her chest, pouted and preened until those guys couldn’t hold back.

It took a few minutes to convince Cynthia, but I was adamant. Sure, it made me nervous as much as it got me hard, but the craving to take this experience to the next level—both physically and emotionally—each time is too strong, too fucking strong.

And the need is strong in Cynthia too, because when she agreed, I could see the excitement in her eyes, feel the anticipation in the way she was breathing, heard the arousal in the way she came soon after that, my middle finger curling up her asshole as I fucked her cunt from behind on the kitchen floor.

So that was last week, and I’ve been waiting every evening for the call to come in, the call where Cynthia says, “Hey, tonight’s the night. It’s on, honey.”

And tonight the call comes in. It is almost ten at night, and Cynthia’s been working till midnight or later every night as they get closer to their deadline. Today is Wednesday, and the final deadline is Friday, so they are pretty close, Cynthia told me yesterday. They needed to be done by Wednesday night, because the company had appointed a separate team of lawyers to double-check all the final documents on Thursday.

Still, although Cynthia told me that Wednesday night would be best, she couldn’t be sure until that night itself. What if they didn’t get done until Thursday early morning? What if some of the company executives stayed late on Wednesday night to make sure things were done perfectly? Too many what ifs.

But now the phone is ringing and it is Cynthia.

“Hey,” I say, my voice shaking with excitement, some nervousness, maybe even a bit of fear. “What’s up?”

“Sully’s Tavern in the basement of our office building,” Cynthia tells me in a low voice. “We’re going to celebrate—or commiserate—with a few drinks.”

My heart almost stops as I realize that ohmyLORD, I’m going to get to watch her flirt with these guys at a bar first! I hadn’t even considered the idea, though of course I have fantasized about it many times by now. Oh, shit, the idea of me sitting alone at a table at the far end of a dimly lit bar, watching my Cynthia in her skirt-suit and perfectly coiffed hair smiling as she gets all the attention from these four Ivy-League lawyers!

“When?” I say, but I don’t really care what her answer is, because I am already dressed and walking to the door. I want to get there early and stake out a spot.

Yes, stake out a spot so I can watch my wife.

Watch her with the lawyers.