Young Wives Who Cheat and Husbands Who Let Them: 5 infidelity stories about husbands cuckolded by young unfaithful spouses (BUNDLES of stories about Hotwives and Cuckolds 1) by Dylan Chase

Author:Dylan Chase
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: PiMag
Published: 2020-12-19T22:00:00+00:00

I came home from work the next day to find Mila alone by the pool. I was relieved that he was not there — and possibly gone. Not only was it not right what she was doing, and not right that I was as much as allowing it, it was also unsustainable to be creeping around masturbating in closets watching all the fucking they were doing. But the peace was short-lived.

“Honey,” she said not sitting up or removing her sunglasses. “Reagan’s building isn’t ready yet. Do you mind another night?”

Was I too rapid when I responded, “No problem,”? I added, “Got to go out tonight, there’s a rally, I need to cover it.”

“Oh.” She never took the slightest interest in politics or my work. “When will you be back?”

I knew why she was asking. “Probably after midnight if it’s anything like the previous rally.”

“Okay hon.”

Neither of us pointed out that we just agreed that I’d be out past midnight and Reagan would be over all night. How quickly repeated outrage becomes normal.

Of course there was no rally and she wouldn’t know that. Beneath the stairs outside the terrace, was a half-tall entrance where the pool pump could be accessed, and where also one could get through to the panel in the lower level hallway. I unlocked it all earlier. I left and went instead to Ea’s for a couple of beers watching soccer. Sure enough, not long after, I saw from the shadows deep in the bar Reagan park his motorcycle and begin the incline up to their little love nest.

I gave it another 45 minutes, tapped the bar and waved at Sal and made my own way up the steps. Only when I got to the final curving stairs around the terrace, I ducked down behind and went through the half size door. I stepped around the pipes and filters and carefully lifted the panel away. I looked inside the hallway and saw the coast was clear. I could see if they were in the kitchen by peering from the lower stairs. Nope, not there. I went through to the steps to the bedroom. I crept up those and into the bedroom unseen. I was able to hug the wall and get to the muslin curtains that framed the double wide door onto the terrace. The evening sun lit the sky on fire. The ocean was agitated by some far off storm and slammed its annoyance against the cliffs below. The air was warm but turbulent, throwing gusts across the terrace that smelled of Egypt. On the terrace slat wood floor, Mila writhed on her back, her hands on her thighs, her nails tearing at her skin. She moaned in rhythm as though humming a song and rolled her head with her eyes closed side to side. Her shoulders, round and smooth and glowing, danced and her breasts heaved when her whole torso lifted off the floor and her back arched sharply. Her toes squeezed into points and her breath sucked in short sharp inhalations.

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