My Wife's Peeping Tom Pt. 10

I'd only been manning my company's booth for about fifteen minutes when I received a text from Brooke's burner phone. In the selfie, my pouting wife stood in her red bikini beside a completely empty pool. A text soon followed.

> Nobody at the pool to play with this morning. I think I'll change and go hunting elsewhere.

I smiled but didn't bother texting back. No clever retort came to mind, and I figured she'd assume my silence meant I was busy working. I puttered around the booth for about twenty minutes before I received a second photo.

This time, my wife stood in her burnt orange bikini tightly wedged between two shirtless black guys in mirrored sunglasses. One guy had a thick gold chain around his neck, and the other sported a full sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. They might've been perfectly nice, but they looked like rough characters.

Both these strangers had their arms around my wife while Mr. Bling held Brooke's phone up to get the right angle. The pool deck to one side looked different, so I assumed she'd left her own resort. She looked gorgeous in the bright sunlight, and I idly wondered if one or both men had helped my wife with her sunscreen.

I looked up from my phone to ensure I remained alone, but I needn't have bothered. Bob didn't really trust me to make sales, so he'd asked me to man the booth on Wednesday, which served as a transition day when the conventioneers who arrived the first weekend flew home and the ones attending the second half of the week flew in. Less than a hundred bored people idled in Meeting Halls A through C, most of them manning their booths waiting for the occasional passerby.

In fact, half the booths had been left unmanned, and I felt tempted to do the same. Only my promise to my extremely understanding coworker kept me in that nearly empty room. I received another text, so I turned my attention back to something far more interesting than my job.

> I met Marcus and Jordan on the beach. They invited me for drinks at their hotel pool bar!

Scrolling back up to the selfie, I now noticed a bright blue cocktail with a little umbrella on a marble bar in the background. I stared dumbly at the contrast between my wife's porcelain skin and the dark brown chests of her two new friends, and I started a bit when my phone dinged again. I assume the guy with the tats took this new photo because I didn't see him in it.

Taken from the pool deck, the new shot took in the entire bar with its thatched roof and wooden pillars. A smiling bartender with an impressive Zapato mustache cleaned a glass with a rag in the background. Facing the camera, Mr. Bling had his arm around my wife's waist while she held up her oversized cocktail to toast the camera.

> ur wife said u'd like this photo. We were surprised when she said u get off on her going out and hooking up with other guys. We'll take real good care of her!

My stomach turned unpleasantly as I reread the message. I didn't even know if he was Marcus or Jordan. All I knew was that my wife had told these complete strangers exactly what we were doing, and I was too far away to do anything about it.

My initial reaction was to feel betrayed. How could my wife tell anyone that? Fury consumed me for almost a minute, but then it dissipated like fog on a windshield after turning on the defroster.

Really? What exactly am I mad about?

The rules required Brooke to tell men that her husband ignored her and that she liked to meet new people. I hadn't told her to say I wanted her to flirt with other men, but I hadn't said to keep it a secret either. My wife is an inherently honest person, and expecting her to lie about something without me even asking was a bit much to ask.

Besides, I'd probably never even meet these guys. What did I care what they thought? Since they were staying at a hotel on the other side of the country, they obviously weren't there for the convention. Hell, they might be from anywhere in the world.

Instead of trying to attract the attention of the few potential customers wandering by, I stared at my phone like a teenager. I really wanted to be there to ensure Brooke's safety, but I couldn't let Bob down after he covered for me all week. My wife was truly on her own, and I just had to pray that she'd stick to the rules.

Glancing around the cavernous room lightly populated with men and women who actually cared about our industry, I felt very alone and a little lost. I made a real meal of resetting the video that played on the big monitor at the back of our display, but I really just needed to turn away so I could readjust my erection to a more comfortable position. Twenty minutes later, I was still contemplating my body's reaction to Brooke's photos when another one popped up on my phone.

My wife sat sideways on the tattooed guy's lap at the bar, and his dark hand rested below her pale hip where the orange ties to her bottoms hung down. I'd tied them myself to make sure they weren't double knotted, so he could just pull on one and Brooke's suit would come apart. The idea that this guy could pull three strings and leave my wife completely naked in that pool brought me right back to full hardness even as my lack of control of the situation left me dry mouthed and panicked.

Brooke's eyes looked shiny, and I could tell she'd had more than one or two of those fancy cocktails. She stared directly into the camera with a wild smile, and her arousal would've been obvious to anyone. I found it hard to breathe as I stared at the photo, and I jumped a little when the next one arrived.

Both Brooke and Tattoo Guy now stood laughing by the mostly submerged barstools. She faced the camera in front of him with her arms up and around his neck, and that posture somehow looked incredibly submissive. However, it was the guy's hands hefting my wife's breasts that had my full attention. I could practically hear my wife giggling as this complete stranger fondled her breasts through the thin material of her unlined bikini.

When I finally tore my eyes from those deep brown hands, I noticed that the guy was nuzzling my wife's neck. Brooke had tilted her head away from his mouth to expose her long neck to him, and I thought about how much breath and lips on that particular spot drove my wife wild. Even as I fretted about this getting out of hand, I had to sit behind the table so the other conventioneers wouldn't see my raging erection.

> Bro! ur wife is so hot!

A couple of customers interrupted my obsessive study of the photos on my phone, and I tried to get my mind back on my job. I even managed to sound coherent, though all I could think about was my wife enjoying another man's fondling hands. In my mind, she wasn't wearing the bikini top anymore.

I received new texts every ten or fifteen minutes as I manned that stupid booth, and the photos grew increasingly sexual. Brooke hugging first one guy, and then the other.... Then a shot of her kissing Mr. Bling... Only ten minutes later, I received another of my wife passionately making out with Tattoo Guy right there in that public pool.

After that, most of the photos featured the two men taking turns kissing Brooke, but that doesn't mean things didn't continue escalating. Before lunch, I had two photos of my wife having her ass groped, one where she had her hand on the tattooed guy's package, and then another where she faced away from the camera kissing Mr. Bling. In that last one, I noted her orange bikini top draped across an oversized margarita glass on the bar.

Knowing my wife had pressed her bare chest against another guy and sent me a photo of it sent a jolt of jealousy and fear through my mind. It also caused me to cum in my pants. The convention faded away as I stared at the photo and tried to imagine what my wife might be doing now.

Of course, she'd done similar things on the boat the day before, but I'd been right there to stop things from getting out of hand. That also hadn't been so public. On that Wednesday morning, I had to face both my wife's vulnerability and my complete inability to protect her. I truly can't express how erotic and scary the whole situation became.

I also had to deal with the fact that Brooke had taken complete control of our little game. These weren't photo's I'd taken from cover as she completed a challenge. My wife had engaged two men in our sexual game, and the three of them decided what I saw and didn't see. Somehow, that made the whole experience exponentially more intense, and it certainly topped anything we'd done before that.

Another photo came in that captured Brooke and Tattoo Guy from the side as they kissed deeply. I could see the side of my wife's bare breast pressed against his chest as she wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders. The cocky bastard had both hands on her ass.

More accurately, he had both hands inside my wife's bikini bottoms as he squeezed her round buttocks. Even though I'd already ejaculated, my wife's antics caused me to remain hard as I waited breathlessly for the next photo. When it came, so did I.

My eyes went wide as I stared at my topless wife facing the camera flanked by her two new friends. I presumed the bartender took the photo since the bar was no longer visible in the background. The grinning guys each had one arm behind her, presumably inside her bottoms possessively holding one buttock, but that wasn't what stopped my breathing.

I stood there stunned on the convention floor with strangers walking by as I stared at my wife's hands wrapped around two erect cocks right there in the thigh high water. Her little hands looked tiny as she grasped their meaty shafts. Two other women in bathing suits walked by on the pool deck only feet behind them.

I could tell Brooke had become completely inebriated, but I still couldn't believe my eyes. We'd done some risky things, even kinky things, but never in my wildest dreams did ever I think she'd send me a photo like this. Even after her antics on the boat the day before and the strip club before that, it took me several minutes to wrap my head around the fact that my wife had actually asked the bartender to take this photo.

When I could finally tear my eyes from the bottom half of the screen, I took in Brooke's drunken, elated expression. There could be no mistake that holding those two cocks made my wife ecstatic. They weren't much different from mine other than color, but somehow the contrast between her pale hands and their dark shafts amplified the novelty of the moment.

Maddeningly, Bob picked that very moment to visit the booth to check on things, and I had to make a show of picking up the trash in the booth and shoving it all in a box to cover both my erection and the dark stain on my khakis. Asking Bob to cover the booth for a few minutes, I carried the box out, making sure to keep it in front of my crotch.

Fuck. At this rate, I'm going to run out of clothes before the end of the week. I really need to find out if the hotel has a laundry service...

The texts stopped after that earth shattering photo. Once I got up to my room, I changed into some fresh pants and hid my soiled khakis and underwear with the other clothes I'd messed up over the prior four days. Rushing back down to the convention floor, I apologized to Bob for taking so long.

"Don't sweat it, Dude. I have plenty of time before I need to be where I'm going," he assured me before stepping out from behind our table. "Take it easy."

"Yeah, you too."

That afternoon turned out to be pure torture. With no incoming texts, I had no idea what might be happening. The worst part was that I couldn't even be sure that my imagination was worse than the reality. Around three, something occurred to me that sent me into an emotional spiral.

Fuck! Last night I told Brooke that anal sex doesn't count...

For all I knew, those two guys could be spit roasting my wife at that very moment. The image of my wife with a cock in her throat and another up her ass set up residence in my mind, and I had no way to evict it. I could even picture her moving back and forth between them as they made her do all the work.

Goddam it... she'd love that...

The longer my wife went radio silent, the more convinced I became that those two strangers were double teaming her. It drove me crazy. Even though the image turned me on, my fear and concern over her safety spoiled any pleasure I might get out of it. I'd never felt so helpless and lonely.

At five, I rushed through closing up the display and headed for my room. I didn't expect Bob until late, so I took a shower that had zero chance of making me feel clean. As I lay in bed naked, I transferred the photos on my phone to my laptop so I could study them on a larger screen.

I stared at them for almost an hour as I desperately and futilely sought clues to what might be happening. Eventually, I noticed the name of the resort on a cabana in the background. Looking up the number, I called and asked for the bartender at the pool. The hotel operator connected me right away.

"Buenas tardes. Bar en la piscina Paraíso."

"Hello. I need some information," I explained in English. I'd become so flummoxed by my wife's actions that it didn't even occur to me to use Spanish. "Two of my friends were at the pool earlier. They might've had a redhead with them.

"Ah! Sí. I remember the woman," the bartender replied in decent English, and I felt very lucky that the shift hadn't changed yet. "She was very beautiful. Muy caliente! My manager got upset because they got very wild, but the three of them settled down after that. I won't be forgetting her any time soon."

"I'm sure you won't," I said, hoping he wouldn't figure out what I really wanted. "Do you know where my friends went off to? I'm trying to meet up with them, but I haven't been able to find them."

"Oh, I don't know, Señor. They went into the hotel about ten minutes after the woman left."

"So she didn't stay with them? Damn," I swore before realizing my mistake, but I quickly recovered. "I was hoping she'd still be with them because people notice her. It'd be easier to find my friends."

"Lo siento. She headed down the beach," he replied.

"OK. Gracias," I thanked him before hanging up.

I ordered a nice dinner from room service, but I barely ate any of it. In fact, other than a breakfast burrito that morning, I'd had five bites of food all day. I only had an appetite for more information about my wife as she played with other men a hundred miles away.

At around six fifteen, my phone rang, and the photo of my beautiful wife and my business rival Walt popped up on the screen. I don't know why, but I'd made it the avatar for her in my phone a couple of days before. Shaking off dark thoughts that were probably best left unexamined, I answered before she hung up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Babe!'

"I was beginning to worry."

"Sorry. After I left the two guys at their hotel pool, I went for a walk and met up with another man who took me parasailing. My phone didn't have any bars there."

"Oh... that sounds like... fun..." I replied, not actually meaning it. I think that must be some sort of chick thing. You don't really have any control, and after HALO jumps in the Army, being dragged around by a little boat just seems lame.

"It was!" she gushed. "Ted... that's the guy I met... said that sometimes women lose their bikini tops. I asked the guy who ran the boat, and he said that it happens."

"Did it happen to you?" I asked, suddenly interested.

"No, Ted took care of that."

"How did he do that?"

"He kept it safely in his pocket the whole time," Brooke explained, and I could hear the satisfaction in her voice as she slowly dribbled out each detail of her afternoon.

"That was kind of him," I replied, trying to keep my voice sounding mildly disinterested but failing miserably.

"Yeah. Hang on," Brooke snickered before going silent.

My phone dinged, and I received a text with a dozen photos of my topless wife. In some, she hung from the parachute harness, but in others she stood with a tall red haired guy whom I assumed to be Ted and several local men wearing the T-shirts of the parasailing company. The last one featured a posed shot of my wife in Ted's arms on the dock with the speedboat in the background. She wore only the orange bikini bottoms in all of them.

"Nice photos. Why didn't you send them to me earlier?" I demanded, angrier about not having anything new to look at over the past few hours than at her breaking the rules. "You're supposed to keep me updated on where you are and who you're with."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but like I said, cell service is spotty around here. This is the first time I've had any bars since I left that other resort."

"Are you back at your hotel?"

"Yeah. After parasailing, Ted drove me to his boat, and we went snorkeling on a reef that the tourists don't usually see. He's a local instructor, so we didn't need to go through a company or anything."

"I see. Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh, Yes! It was beautiful, and Ted made it even more fun than it'd usually be."

"How so?"

"Well, since we were all by ourselves, he suggested... well... let me show you."

I waited impatiently for another moment, and then my phone dinged again. In the first photo of this batch, Brooke stood at the helm of a Key Largo 20 dive boat. I recognized the make from a diving trip I'd gone on years before.

What made the photo special was that Brooke wore nothing but her wedding ring as she guided the boat through some sort of marina. I then scrolled down to a selfie of my wife sitting in the lap of an equally naked Ted. They looked very happy and comfortable with each other.

Taken from the boat, the next two photos captured my naked wife snorkeling. Her pale skin provided an excellent contrast to the dark blue green of the ocean. I could just make out the brightly colored reef below her through the crystal clear water. Brooke's ass looked phenomenal.

"It looks like you had fun."

"Oh, we did!"

"You ended your date pretty early."

"Oh, we're just on a break. I wanted to take a shower to get the ocean smell off my skin before we go out to dinner," Brooke explained with a happy lilt. "Which outfit do you suppose I should wear?"

"Which one do you want to wear?"

"I really like the green dress, but do you think it's too slutty?"

It took me a moment to catch on to what Brooke wanted. It seemed like a weird question after everything she'd done all week, but then I realized my wife wanted to include me in the preparation for her date. Still relieved that she hadn't spent all afternoon being spit roasted, I decided to throw her a bone.

"The green dress is definitely too slutty."

"It is?"

"Yes. So, you should definitely wear the green dress."

"Are you sure?" she asked, and I could hear the confusion in her voice. I could play games just as well as she could.

"Of course, I'm sure. Wear the green dress and your high heels. Ted took you on two big adventures today. Don't you feel you owe him?"

"I guess so," Brooke replied, and I could hear her confidence and eagerness return. "Can I ask you something else?"

"Of course."

"Do you think it'd be too slutty if I took off my dress for the drive back from the restaurant?"

"That sounds perfectly appropriate to me."

"It's sort of a long drive."

"How long?"

"He said about an hour."

"Then you should probably take it off in the parking lot before you leave. If you lay it out in the back seat, it won't get wrinkled."

"Will do," she replied breathlessly.

"One more thing," I added casually.

"What?"

"Since it'll be an hour drive to the restaurant as well, don't you think you should leave your dress laid out in back on the way there as well? You wouldn't want to sit through dinner in a wrinkled dress, right?"

"You have such good ideas. Thank you. Any other advice?"

"Just follow the rules and make sure you send me lots of photos and updates. This afternoon was rough with no contact."

"Sorry about that. I'll try. I should probably go. Ted'll be here any minute."

"OK. Have fun... and be a good girl."

"I will. I love you."

"Love you, too!"

It's odd, but I felt much better after talking with Brooke. Sure, my wife was going out on a date where she'd be naked in the car for at least two hours, but it just seemed more reasonable with only one guy in the mix. I was about to set aside my phone when it dinged again.

In the mirror selfie, Ted stood beside my naked wife in a white linen suit with a white button up shirt and no tie. He'd casually draped his arm around her shoulders, and Brooke's hand had disappeared inside the fly of his trousers. Her enthusiastic smile tore at my heart even as it fueled my libido.

I couldn't be sure if she'd told him about her husband letting her go out on dates, but if she hadn't, he had to wonder about that selfie. With no way to affect anything from San Juan, I just stared at the photo and imagined my naked wife sitting beside her new friend in the car. I didn't have to imagine for long.

Less than ten minutes later, Brooke sent me a naked selfie of herself leaning up against her date as he drove. She took the photo with her right hand, but her left grasped Ted's erection where it emerged from his open fly. He stared straight ahead, but my wife gazed right into the camera with a hungry grin on her face.

Damn, they're only a few minutes into a long drive...

Brooke texted me similar selfies every ten minutes or so. I assume she either felt guilty about not sending me any updates all afternoon or she just wanted to prove she really remained nude for the entire drive. About an hour after the first photo, I received three photos of my wife standing by the car in the parking lot of the restaurant as she pulled her shoes and dress on... in that order.

She's even got Ted taking photos now...

Brooke sent me a photo of the two of them leaning cheek to cheek at their table, and then I didn't hear anything for a while. When I did, I received a photo with no explanation. My wife sat behind an enormous slab of chocolate cake with her boobs out.

Beside Brooke, a very happy waiter sat with his arm around her. My wife looked a bit nervous, but her smile appeared genuine. The next set of photos featured my wife taking off her dress in the parking lot and dropping it in the trunk of Ted's rented Toyota.

Every five to ten minutes for the next hour, Brooke sent me a photo of herself with her head in Ted's lap. In the first few, she stroked his shaft only an inch from her beaming face, but my wife had her lips wrapped around his cock in the ones over the last twenty minutes of their drive. I couldn't believe my eyes.

Sure, she'd given Captain Rodriguez a hand job, and she'd certainly done a lot with the two guys in the pool, but this went far beyond that. My wife was not merely blowing another man. She was happily documenting the act for me. I honestly wanted to be mad, but I just didn't feel it.

Somehow, those photos made me feel included. It wasn't cheating. It became something we did together. At least, that's how I took it.

After a couple of photos of her dressing in the parking lot of her resort, I received several more in the hotel. In the first, my naked wife 'unsuccessfully' hid behind the tree I'd used for cover the day before. The rest took place at the door to her room.

After a photo of Brooke tossing her dress and shoes into her room, she posed in front of the closed door as she held up her keycard. The next image was a selfie of my wife on her knees with Ted's cock in her mouth while he held the keycard. As Brooke usually did in these situations, she'd completely shed her inhibitions.

The last photo she texted was a closeup of Ted licking my wife's pussy from her point of view. Brooke lay in the hallway, and her ginger haired date seemed quite content to taste her arousal right there. I marveled at their daring, but I also worried that I might have to drive across the island in the middle of the night if Brooke got kicked out of the hotel or even arrested for public sexual acts.

Well, I guess she's obeying my 'Only public places' rule...

Five minutes later, my phone rang, and the photo of my wife and Walt popped up on the screen. I let it ring a couple of times to make it seem as if I weren't desperately anticipating every image and scrap of information I could get. I took a deep breath to steady myself before hitting receive and accepting the video call.

"Hello?" I answered as if I didn't know exactly who was calling me. My wife's beaming face filled the screen. The video lag wasn't too bad.

"Hi Babe. I just finished my date," Brooke said as she bit her lower lip and ran a hand nervously through her long auburn hair. The first thing that struck me was that she was clearly not drunk. She'd gone through her date and done all those things almost completely sober.

"I saw."

"Are you mad?"

"Did you break the rules?"

"No."

"Then you were a good girl. Why would I be mad?"

"Oh, good," she sighed with a sweet smile. I heard the relief in her voice and saw her shoulders release their tension.

"Ethan. Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"Seriously."

"Of course."

"Why are you letting me do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know. The flirting. Kissing other men. Everything I did yesterday, and today..." she trailed off, obviously unwilling or unable to actually say it out loud. "Doesn't it make you feel betrayed or something?"

"No."

"Why not? I'd be furious."

"You do know that I was with a lot of women before we met, right?"

"Sure."

"Does that make you mad?"

"Why would it? You didn't even know me."

"But still... I did all sorts of things with other women," I said, trying to find a way to explain this. "It's part of being young and human."

"So?"

"So why should I be mad at you for wanting to do the same thing?"

"Because we do know each other now, and we're married!" my wife whispered exasperatedly.

"Tell me this. Are you looking for a guy to replace me?"

"Of course not!"

"So you're only doing this because it's a bit of fun far from home?"

"Well, that, and you said I had to."

"I did, didn't I?" I replied with a grin. "Why do you suppose I did that?"

"I have no idea. That's why I asked."

"I love you more than anything, but when we first got married, I really hurt you by going ballistic when you told me about your college boyfriend."

"Oh that? I forgot all about that," she said unconvincingly.

"Well, I didn't. I was a complete asshole, and because of that, you closed down and didn't feel you could tell me what you liked or wanted from sex. We wasted years having boring sex. I'm going to regret that for the rest of my life."

"So you're just trying to make up for that? You don't need to do that."

"I do, but that's not the point," I explained seriously. "I don't just want you to feel you can tell me what you want. I want to help you find out what that is."

"Today really scared me," Brooke admitted quietly.

"Which part?"

"You know which part," she remarked in frustration. Admittedly, I did.

"Did you break the rules?" I asked again.

"Well... no..."

"Then why did it scare you?"

"I had a really great time."

"I'm glad you did."

"No, I had a better time than I should've."

"If you didn't break the rules, then it sounds like you had exactly the right amount of fun."

"I went too far. Honey, I was out of control..."

"Do you feel the same way about that guy you had breakfast with a few of days ago? Or Walt?"

"Well, I... Wait! How do you know Walt's name?" Brooke asked in shock. I'd forgotten that we hadn't talked about him.

"I've known him for years. He works at one of our competitors. I also know Barry, although not as well.

"Oh shit!" Brooke exclaimed as the import of that fact landed in her consciousness. "I'm so sorry, Ethan."

"Don't worry about it. They don't know you're my wife, so no harm done," I assured her. I didn't bring up that I might be working with Barry in the near future. My wife's state of mind seemed fragile enough.

"Should I pull back?"

"You should continue to follow the rules as long as we are on this trip. That was the deal," I said in my command voice. That seemed to end the issue in Brooke's mind. "I know it's early, but you must be exhausted. Let's get you to bed."

"OK."

Brooke set aside the phone to use the bathroom, so I stared at her room's ceiling for a couple of minutes. After she climbed atop her covers, she returned to the phone. I didn't wait for her to speak.

"Tell me about Marcus and Jordan."

"What?" Brooke gasped as her eyes grew twice as big.

"Tell me about the two men you spent the morning with."

"What do you want to know?" my wife sighed reluctantly. She knew I wouldn't let it go.

"Which one was the better kisser?"

My wife didn't answer right away. When she finally spoke, I could barely hear her whisper over the powerful plug-in vibrator buzzing away against her sex.

"Jordan."

"Was he the one with the tattoos or the big necklace?"

"The tattoos."

"What did you like about his kiss?"

"Do we have to do this?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"He had nice thick lips that felt soft against mine even when he kissed me hard."

"What else?"

"Ethan..."

"Tell me. Right now!"

"I liked how he held my boobs. Marcus was sort of rough, but Jordan was just the right mix of strength and gentleness."

"Did he pinch your nipples?"

"They both did," she admitted. I asked her a few more questions before getting to the one I really wanted to ask.

"Who had the better cock?" I asked, and my wife moaned loudly as her breathing quickened. I could tell she was close. "C'mon, Brooke. You had both their cocks in your hands. Which one felt better?"

"Marcus's," my wife confessed, and I could see her body shaking from her frantic masturbating. That's when I realized that Brooke's reluctance to talk about her shameful acts just a few moments earlier had been for my benefit. She wanted to tell me all about it.

"Tell me what you liked about Marcus' cock," I demanded, and my wife groaned again. It sounded like a mix of lust and frustration over having to say it out loud.

"It was thick and felt good in my hand. The skin was really smooth and soft, but the hardness underneath felt like a steel rod."

"How do you think that would feel in your pussy?"

"I don't know!" Brooke insisted, her eyes popping open to look at me on her phone's screen.

"We both know you thought about it."

My wife whimpered as she realized I'd been watching her fantasize about another guy, or maybe two, while masturbating. Still, no matter how much she wanted to avoid hurting me, Brooke couldn't resist when she was worked up that much.

"I think it'd feel amazing!" my wife admitted, and then the words began pouring out of her in rapid fire. "Even in the pool I was wondering what it'd be like to take him in my mouth. Oh God, Honey. I'm so sorry, but I wanted to suck his cock so bad! I wanted to get him as hard as possible so he'd fuck me senseless."

A powerful orgasm ended any more discussion of my wife's morning sex play. I watched Brooke weep from a climax that overwhelmed her senses and left her emotionally raw. Then she dropped the phone on her chest. I wished I could've been there to spoon her while she recovered.

I listened to my wife's heavy breathing for several minutes. When she picked up her phone again, Brooke looked gorgeously ragged as she smiled at the phone. I needed to go clean myself up before Bob returned, so I cut the call shorter than I would've preferred.

"I need to go, but I want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"I want you to spend the rest of tonight on your bed with your butt plug in. You don't have to use your vibrator, but if thinking about Marcus and Jordan makes you want to use it, I want you to text me to let me know before you do."

"OK," she agreed quietly before adding, "I probably won't."

"Remember. I want you to text me every time, no matter how late it is."

"I'll be a good girl."

After I hung up, I headed for the bathroom to throw away all the tissue I'd used to clean myself. I put on a T-shirt but left my underwear off before climbing into bed. I don't usually 'Whinnie the Pooh' it, but I was running out of clean briefs. To my surprise, I received a text from my wife only half an hour later.

> I'm using my vibrator while thinking about Marcus

< Thank you for being a good girl and telling me. Enjoy!

Incredibly, my cock got hard again. Even though my balls ached from overuse, that couldn't derail my erection. My wife's text made that impossible.

It's odd that her being so turned on about another guy didn't upset me, but I felt little jealousy at all. Honestly, my wife actually telling me about it was an incredible turn on. I wonder which one of us came first. Probably me...

Just as I drifted off to sleep an hour later, my phone buzzed. Bob hadn't come in yet, so I sat up and grabbed my phone. Brooke had texted me again.

> Sorry. I can't sleep. I keep thinking about holding those two big cocks in my hands today. I'm playing with my vibrator again.

< No need to be sorry. You're just being my good girl. Love U.

> Luv U

Bob walked into our room just as I came. I pretended to be asleep so I wouldn't have to talk with my coworker while covered in my own cum. My balls really hurt now, and I just wanted to sleep so they could recover.

While Bob undressed and got into his bed, I lay there in the dark holding the sheet away from the mess I'd made. For the first time since all this started, I felt shame at what we were doing. I would've been mortified if Bob or anyone else knew that I'd jacked off to the idea of my wife climaxing while she thought about another guy or two.

Eventually, Bob began snoring, so I carefully I cleaned myself up. I'd just settled back down when my phone buzzed again. Sighing, I picked it up.

> I'm such a terrible wife. I'm doing it again. I can't believe how horny I am. It's like someone turned my throttle to full and broke the switch off.

I read her message four times and realized I'd be getting very little sleep that night. Brooke wasn't the only one with a malfunctioning libido. To my disbelief, her message had made me hard again, and I had zero chance of dozing off until I dealt with it.

Silently slipping out of bed, I went into the bathroom. After shutting the door, I laid on the floor to take care of myself. The cool tile made my shoulders and back ache but didn't squelch my erection at all.

I scrolled through my wife's texts as I stroked myself, and I went through it all probably twenty times before I finally finished. Basically nothing came out, and it felt like pissing fire. Feeling like I'd been kicked in the balls, I lay there panting for a while before getting up and going back to bed. I prayed Bob wouldn't wake up and catch me walking around with my dick hanging out.

Brooke texted me four more times that night, and each one had the same effect on me. I envied my wife because she probably felt great each time. By three in the morning, the end of my cock felt like someone had raked razor blades across it, but I simply couldn't sleep with it hard. I drank a full glass of water every time, and it seemed weird that I never had to pee all night.

Brooke's texts stopped after that, but I never really slept. Anytime I dozed off, I ended up dreaming of my wife fucking the men she'd played with that week while I watched. Sometimes she took a guy one on one, but other times she enjoyed multiple lovers.

I woke up hard each time, and I actually missed my earlier impotence. When Bob got up to take a shower, I remained in bed under cum stained sheets with aching balls and a raging headache. I figured I'd clean everything up and find the laundry after he went down to the booth.

Shit. How am I going to get through the next three days?