Not Vanilla Flavors of Kink Collection Page 2

  Danny's face is hidden deep between her thighs as he pleasures her, the ripple of muscle in his upper arms and legs apparent as he rocks gently back and forth.

  My clit swells at the carnal tableau and I'm so full of desire I can't stand still. I lean forward, resting the side of my face flush against the glass, enjoying the bite of cold on my hot cheek. I clutch briefly at the firm wooden frame to maintain balance as the blood rushes from every part of me to the very center of my need.

  My pelvis thrusts a little of its own accord. I'm humping the air and it isn't enough. I want to be fucked. Or maybe I want to fuck. Maybe I want both. The hunger grows until I can't take it anymore.

  Not enough. I have to touch. I pinch the erect tips of my swollen breasts with fingers that are so unsteady the prizes slip out of my grip. Frustrated, I change tactics and feather back and forth across my nipples, enjoying their hard pebble feel against the soft cushion of my palms. Sensation explodes outward, like a satisfying wave that goes on and on.

  Oh God! These exquisite visual displays that Danny provides every week are as addictive as a drug, and I'm like an addict who just can't get enough.

  If his mouth were between my legs right now, he'd be licking and sucking there, right in the spot where one of my hands has finally traversed downward from my breast. He'd suck hard, willing my clit into a mini-erection of its own, pulling it out from its hooded sheath until shudders wrack my whole body and I can hardly stand up.

  You eat pussy so well, Danny. Better than anyone else I've ever observed.

  As if responding to my thoughts, he lifts his head and glances around. His mouth is slightly swollen and slick from her body fluids. His tongue darts out in a little pink flash, clearly enjoying a final taste before he straightens up and turns to display the full beauty of his rigid cock to my eager gaze.

  I adore Danny's cock. It is large without being scary-big, and when it's hard it rises up almost vertically, proclaiming his virile male strength like nothing else can.

  Pressure builds in all the right places in my body, and my chest lifts and falls unevenly as my breathing quickens. I'm close to coming, and so is he. That determined look on his face, edged with desperation, tells me he's very near.

  He readies himself to enter her and I strain to capture the moment he plunges deep. Yes! He shoves hard, both of them clearly so wet the entry plays out like an easy glide. He thrusts again, seating himself more firmly inside and her legs rise up to clasp his waist and hold him there.

  She's wearing black nail polish on her toes. I've only just noticed it, and as he pumps back and forth inside her I watch those dark-tipped toes of hers shake and shudder in the air. Little droplets of black in a blazing golden tableau.

  Her arms are spread-eagled, one to each side, and he has her wrists imprisoned in a vice-like grip. Her head is turned toward me, her mouth open in what looks like a howl. I stop thrusting against my own hand and stand super-still, straining to listen.

  Yes. I think I hear her. It's a faint wail that sounds a little bit like a cat in pain. It could equally be a woman in the throes of ecstasy and I choose to believe the latter. It's her, for sure. When her eyes roll up in her head and her features suddenly squeeze tight I know she's nearly at the end.

  And so am I. My reflection in the window is like a mirror image of what I'm seeing across the alley, though my eyes are open, not scrunched. My face sports the same wide-mouthed, slack-jawed expression as hers, and the sounds from my throat have become guttural, almost choked.

  Are these the sounds she's making right now?

  I bend lower so I can slide a finger up inside my channel. Not nearly as satisfying as Danny's gorgeous cock, but imagine if it were…

  I search for that sweet spot inside, the one I only discovered recently when I bought my first dildo from an internet sex toy store. Who knew that the pleasure of a clit orgasm could be ramped up a hundred-fold if you add internal stimulation to the mix? I certainly didn't, until I tried it out for myself with a fake vibrating penis that looks just about the same size as Danny's.

  Both of my hands are now working my sex. One inside, one out. Double the pleasure.

  Danny. Fuck her. Fuck me. Make us both scream when we come.

  I want to catch a glimpse of his face but can't quite see it from this angle. I know from past experience that he'll have a mask-like expression; a rictus of concentration and focus. A bright sheen of sweat appears on his back, accentuating the tone of his muscles more effectively than a jar of oil ever would. This is real. This is so fucking hot.

  And then I catch it; the instant he loses control and the frenzy begins. I moan, plunging as deep as I can into my own body as I try to keep up the pace. He's lost the even rhythm and he's riding her so hard the top of her skull keeps whacking the headboard.

  Then even through the closed windows I hear the high-pitched scream as she starts to come. His whole body begins to shudder as I watch him follow her over the edge.

  “Yes! Yes! Oh my God…” The squeal forces all the way up from the base of my lungs and bursts out into our bedroom as I buck crazily against my hands. Dampness is smeared across my palms and I lose all sense of time. The orgasm takes me to a place where everything stands still and nothing exists but these waves of sensation that keep rolling and rolling through every part of my body.

  Finally, eventually, I come back to the present. I sigh deeply, replete and exhausted, until a guttural masculine groan to my right causes my heart to jolt painfully.

  I gasp, having forgotten that Danny and I are not the only players in this sensual game of voyeurism.

  I swivel just in time to catch the creamy arc of cum spurt up and out, and then down, the spray eventually losing itself in the cream-colored carpet of our bedroom.

  Will. My husband. He's been there in the shadows, taking his own private pleasure. Watching the watcher. Watching me.

  William

  You like to watch?

  I love watching Izzy like this. I don't know if she'll ever realize just how much I love it. The debauched sounds that come out of her mouth. The involuntary arching of her back when she's in the throes of passion. The clenching of every muscle in her body just before she comes. The way her cunt gives away the extent of her pleasure when it releases shiny liquid along her seam before dripping down her inner thighs. The euphoric expression on her face as she watches that bastard across the street…

  Those sounds, and that look on her face, are why I sit here in the corner chair whenever I can get away early from work. So I can observe her at an angle and fully enjoy the priceless rapture that transforms her from my ordinary, everyday wife into a wanton, sex-crazed siren.

  That look is what now fuels my every waking fantasy and guides my fist in pumping harder and faster around my dick every chance I can get.

  I want to make her forget him, and come back to me. I want to be able to give her that ecstatic look once again. I used to, before the blip in our marriage. Well, yeah, okay. More than a blip. I slept with someone else. Once. And a mutual friend made sure Izzy found out.

  I've been trying so hard since then to make it up to her. I love Isabel. She's my world. We met at high school when I was sixteen and she was almost fifteen. Back then a year made all the difference and I was the sexy “older man”. The way she used to look up to me was such a fucking turn-on.

  She's the first woman I ever loved. The only woman I've ever been with sexually, apart from that one night at the conference in Sydney eighteen months ago, when I had way too much to drink.

  What was I thinking that night? Fuck knows. Maybe I finally wanted to see what it felt like to be with another woman. Maybe the other guys egged me on, making me feel like a failure for only having ever been with the one partner. Maybe I was just another drunk, stupid dick who got caught up in the moment and didn't think about consequences until afterward.

  Consequences. Yeah. Not thinking at all, I guess, and when I realized how much I'd hurt Isabel…

 
We've been working through it all with a marriage counsellor since then. Trying to claw things back, but it hasn't been the same. The trust is gone and I'm going to have to earn it back. One day. If I can.

  I think that's partly why it was such a shock when I came home early from my shift that night just over a month ago, and discovered her sprawled against the window in our darkened bedroom, panting and close to orgasm as she watched our neighbor across the back alleyway drill hard and fast between another man's tight little ass cheeks.

  I hadn't seen that sex-hazed look on her face in so long…

  “What the fuck, Izzy? Two guys?”

  I remember how fast her head swivelled toward me, a suddenly stricken expression shifting her features from ecstasy to horror, and her hand lifting up from her shaved pussy—when the hell had she shaved it?—to cover her open mouth.

  “Will! I didn't expect you home for another hour or two.”

  Clearly. I shook my head from side to side, trying to clear the shock. Izzy looked hotter than I’d ever seen her, even with embarrassment coloring her cheeks, and my body instantly betrayed me when the blood rushed south to ignite a heavy ache in my groin.

  “Yeah, well.” My voice came out gruff and I cleared my throat. “Thought I told you the restaurant will be closed tomorrow so we can get ready for the foodie event that's rolling out across Melbourne. They let the kitchen staff finish early tonight.” I'm a sous chef and I don't normally get home from work till late, but the upcoming annual food festival was a big deal, and the first time our restaurant had been approached to participate.

  “Oh, sure. I…forgot.”

  Her voice was breathy and sexy-as-hell, and I had no idea why we were still talking normally when she was standing there stark naked. Well, except for those teetering red heels that made her legs look longer and more luscious than usual. When did she buy those? I immediately pictured her hooking those long legs up over my shoulders as I plunged deep inside her body, and my perfectly serviceable work trousers were suddenly way too tight.

  Izzy's brown hair was loose down her back in a sea of waves, her lips slightly parted, and her hazel eyes were still half-closed with the remnants of whatever had just been going on. Unlike the room across the road, which had a floor-to-ceiling window lit up like Christmas, our room was mostly dark. But there was a streetlamp in the alley outside that threw a golden hue across her bare skin, creating mysterious shadows and highlighting curves in a way that gave her body an unusually sensual edge.

  She looked different that night, in front of the window. Younger. More…wanton. She looked fucking incredible, actually. With the backdrop of those two guys going at it hard and fast behind Izzy's darkened silhouette, the heaviness in my cock intensified, and I had a full-on erection in record time.

  “Jesus, Isabel.” I shifted, trying to accommodate the hard-on, but the rasp of trouser fabric on my flesh only made the swelling worse. “I haven't seen you look that hot in…fuck! You like to watch? Why didn't I know this about you? I'm your husband, for Christ's sake.”

  They like knowing I’m here

  She looked like she was about to burst into tears. I remember how she stumbled away from the window, fumbling with the cord of the blinds. Should I go comfort her? She was clearly distraught and I let go of the door handle and moved further into the room, not sure what to say or do. I stepped closer but she wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself, and the pose seemed to scream, “Back off”.

  I paused, my heart already pounding so hard the beat echoed way up in my throat, and I had so many random thoughts running through my head that I couldn't find a coherent thread.

  I want to fuck her right now. How could she do this? It's my fault; I must have driven her to it. Watching? She likes to watch? Oh my God, she looks so fucking hot…

  “I'm really sorry, Will. I—”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Um.” She took a deep breath and it came out kind of wobbly. Fragile-sounding. “About…four months.”

  “So…” I tried to calculate, but my head was still fuzzy with shock. “Must have been…” I frowned. “Just after he moved in, then?”

  She nodded. The movement swished her hair and I realized it had gotten long in the past year or so. It suited her long. “Yes. It was an accident, the first time. It was late, and you were at work, as usual.” She shrugged. “I was on my way to bed, walking past our bedroom window and I realized he was…you know…masturbating, without having closed his curtains.”

  She stumbled over the word and I almost laughed. She couldn't say masturbate without blushing, and yet she could stand in front of an uncurtained window and do it herself. While watching a complete stranger go at it, too. Before I could say anything more, she continued. “The light was on over there, so it was really easy to…see.”

  The light was on? Right. What sort of guy jacks off in front of a lighted open window when he's just moved in to a brand-new neighborhood? I hated him from that moment on.

  But when I shot a glance across to the neighbor in question, just in time to see the shudder of release as he presumably emptied himself inside the guy's ass, and the creamy squirt of cum shooting over the bed from the other guy on all fours, my own hard-on twitched and I had to fight the urge to reach down and start pumping right then and there.

  No wonder Izzy was fascinated. The view from here was so clear it was almost like being in the room with them. I had to admit, the guy was pretty fit-looking, and now that he'd withdrawn from his partner's ass and disposed of the condom I could see the full extent of his well-endowed assets.

  Fucking bastard. I've never looked like that, not even fifteen or twenty years ago when I was still relatively young.

  “So, you like watching…guys have sex?” I couldn't get my head around it, but she let out a nervous-sounding chuckle and shook her head.

  “He's not gay. He seems to like, well, all kinds of people. Men and women.”

  My eyebrows rose. “At the same time?”

  “No. Well, not always.”

  “Not…” I cleared my throat, and a bark of laughter finally slipped out before I could stop it. My wife's been getting off to group stuff?

  What the hell had been going on here right under my ignorant nose? The lounge chair in the corner of our room suddenly looked real comfortable and I sank down onto it before my unsteady legs gave way.

  “Does he know you're…you know. Watching? If he doesn't…” It's illegal. I didn't want to voice the last part of that sentence out loud, but the relief that swept through me when Izzy nodded turned my bones to mush. Lucky I was already sitting down.

  “Yes. He doesn't usually engage or anything, but…yes. Even that first time. It was kind of like he did it on purpose right in front of the window, looking for someone who would take the bait and…watch.”

  And it was my wife who took the bait. My lips tightened, but then her shoulders lifted in a small shrug as she continued. “He always tells his partners before they start, too. I see their startled glance over here, but mostly they seem okay with it. He always shuts the curtains if they're not. I think…” She hesitated, then blurted out, “I'm pretty sure they like knowing I'm here.”

  Her tears came then, silently. They just welled up in those sad eyes, adding a green luminosity to the hazel, before brimming over and dropping down her cheeks.

  “Don't, Izzy.” I hate it when she cries. Especially lately, when I feel like everything is somehow my fault.

  “I'll stop, Will. I promise—”

  “No.” I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to release my resentment over that bastard drawing my Izzy into such a crazy game.

  After a moment I was back in control, and I held out my hands and beckoned her over. When she was standing in front of me her erect nipples were right at my eye height, and I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and suck them in, working her into a frenzy the way I used to.

  Remember what sex was like with me,
Isabel? I can give you that dazed expression again. If you'll just let me back in.

  Instead I lifted one of her hands to my mouth so I could graze my lips gently across her palm. “Please don't cry, and don't…” I swallowed hard, wondering if I could do this. She seemed to need it, and after what I did to our marriage I sure didn't have any right to say no to her needs. “Don't stop.” There. See. It was easy. “Go back to the window and do…whatever it is you do when I'm not here. I want to see it.”

  She was already shaking her head. “No Will, I can't possibly—”

  “Yes, you can.” I let go of her hands and reached down to undo the top button of my trousers. “Do it, Izzy. Trust me. I'm not turned off by this.”

  I might have still been furious at that fucking exhibitionist bastard across the street, but that didn't change how I felt about Isabel. If this is what it took to turn her on, then I'd be right there on the ride with her.

  She must have seen the truth of my words in the hard flesh that sprang free when I released the zipper. A timid smile broke through her tears, turning her features radiant and wiping away the sadness. “Are you sure?”

  “Izzy. You've practically creamed that window ledge already. I can see it still glistening all over your legs. Trust me when I say I want to watch.” My voice had gone all gruff. Surely to God she can gauge how turned on I am?

  She laughed and hiccupped at the same time. “I do still love you, Will. You know that, don't you?”

  I nodded, shifting in the chair to a more comfortable position and taking my cock in hand. “Yeah.” God, I'm ready to explode. I'll probably hit the roof for once, and have cum dripping back down on our heads.

  “I need this. I never realized it before Danny came along, but I do.”

  Danny? She knew the bastard's name? “I can see that, hon, that's why…” I shrugged. Words didn't seem enough, but I said it anyway. “I love you too, Izzy. I just want you to be happy again.” My voice broke on those last words, but I remember that first night it was as if I hadn't spoken at all. She'd already turned back toward the window.