Carol's House Guest

The House Guest

It was beautiful summer day. The house had been glowing all afternoon, filled with Florida sunshine pouring in through our living room windows. The scent of lavender still clung to the hallways from Carol's afternoon cleaning spree. A bottle of chilled rosé breathed quietly on the kitchen counter, and the playlist she chose was deliberate: smooth, low-tempo jazz that filled the spaces between words.

Carol had behaved differently all week, somewhat playful, definitely distracted, as if she were plotting something.

Carol and I were chilling on the couch, resting from a day tanning at the pool.

Carol reached over and grabbed my hand. "Hey honey, I have an idea. "It's been a long time since we have seen Jaime Pena, too long. I ran into him the other day at the mall by accident. You remember Jaime and his girlfriend Lisa. He said he and Lisa broke up after 15 years together. He seemed lonely, and I thought he could use some cheering up. And we don't really have any big plans for next weekend. Are you okay with the idea of having him over Saturday for dinner?"

I knew Jaime from a few years ago, the four of us went on a cruise together.

I nodded, "Sure, that sounds fine, an excuse to use the smoker.

Carol gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Okay I'll invite him for dinner Saturday then."

Saturday night Jaime arrived, he brought his usual charm. Jaime was from Puerto Rico. Medium height, sharp-featured, dark complexion, and effortlessly confident. He stepped inside with a bottle of red wine in one hand and that laugh, deep, warm, just on the edge of flirtatious.

He kissed Carol's cheek in greeting. Not rushed. Not exactly intimate, but it lingered. Long enough to feel like a promise.

Carol was welcoming. She looked radiant, brunet hair tied in a loose twist, a simple off-the-shoulder dress that hinted at skin without flaunting it. Bare legs folded beneath her as she moved with careless, magnetic grace. She looked like summer itself, bottled in a body that turned heads.

The three of us shared dinner by candlelight. Laughter bubbled easily as the wine flowed.

Jaime told stories, some old, some new and Carol leaned forward with that spark in her eye. She was enjoying Jaime's company.

Tonight, I wasn't the focus of her attention. There was something different behind my wife's laughter. Something deliberate.

I caught a look passing between she and Jaime, private, playful, dangerous, I knew:

This wasn't just about dinner. This was the beginning of something else entirely.

I watched cautiously at the way Carol's hand brushed Jaime's forearm when she passed the salad. The way she laughed unfiltered and how Jaime looked at my wife, really looked, as if cataloging every response.

And then... that glance.

From across the table. I caught it. Carol's lips curled ever so slightly; her eyes soft but sharp. It was a glance I knew all too well. A signal. Jaime didn't miss it either.

The mood shifted after that moment.

After dessert, the three of us moved to the living room. Carol poured another round. Jaime sat in the center of the couch, legs apart. Confident. Carol tucked herself beside him, not on the edge, but close enough that their hips touched. When she handed me my glass of wine, smiled then turned back to Jaime.

The room felt warmer now. Whether it was the wine or the dynamic stretching thin around me, I wasn't sure. I sat in the armchair a few feet away, close enough to hear their words but just far enough to feel... apart.

Carol uncrossed her legs, leaned back into the cushion, and let out a breath that was almost a sigh. Her shoulders loosened. Her body language changed. I knew that pose all too well. I'd seen it before, when she was about to take control of a situation.

She slipped off her high heels one by one, letting them fall to the hardwood with gentle thuds. Then, with an almost theatrical stretch, she extended her legs in Jaime's direction. Giving him a glimpse of her sexy legs.

It seemed innocent enough. I didn't want to appear to be a jealous husband

Jaime tilted his head. "Still a dancer's frame," he murmured, eyes on her legs. "Some things never change."

I stood. "Can I get everyone another glass of wine?"

Carol's eyes flicked to mine. "Mmm. Yes, please."

We'd already gone through two bottles of wine before I noticed we were completely out. The three of us, Carol, Jaime, and I had been sitting in the living room, catching up, and reminiscing about old times.

Jaime seemed more animated than usual. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the way he kept locking eyes with Carol a second longer than I thought necessary. She didn't seem to mind. If anything, she was enjoying the attention. I'd seen that sparkle in her eyes before, playful, just shy of provocative.

I announced we were out of wine and offered to run out for another bottle, Carol smiled at me, almost too easily.

"We'll hold down the fort baby," she said, crossing one leg over the other slowly as she looked at Jaime. Curling her bare toes in a playful gesture.

The wine room was barely ten minutes away, but traffic at the light near the roundabout was slow, so I idled, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Out of instinct more than suspicion, That's when I got curious as to what was going on back at the house. I opened the app for our home surveillance system.

The front door camera showed nothing. I swiped over to the living room feed.

And paused.

At first, it looked innocent enough, just the two of them on the couch. Jaime was sitting closer than before, and Carol had turned toward him. Then he reached up, touched her cheek, brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

My stomach dropped.

She didn't stop him.

Instead, my wife tilted her head slightly, eyes on his mouth, and then, Gasp, she leaned in.

Their lips met, and it wasn't a quick kiss. It was a slow, exploring, hungry kiss. They exchanged tongues. I watched as Carol placed a hand on Jaime's chest, then slid it around his neck. His fingers were already on her thigh.

My throat tightened. I could hardly breathe.

There was no hesitation in either of them. No looking around. No guilt.

Just raw heat.

I sat there, still at the light, watching my wife kiss another man, our house guest, on the couch we'd picked out together. I felt frozen, equal parts disbelief and something darker, something I hadn't expected: arousal mixed with powerlessness.

She had crossed a line.

And she knew exactly what she was doing.

I should've looked away. I should've closed the app, driven to the store, and pretended I never saw it. But I didn't.

I sat there in the driver's seat, the soft glow of the screen lighting my face, heart thudding, hands still on the wheel as the scene unfolded. I pulled into a side street and parked.

Jaime shifted closer to Carol on the couch, his hand sliding more boldly now over her thigh, tracing the inside where her dress had ridden up. She didn't pull back. She parted her legs slightly, just enough to guide his hands in. Her lips were still on his, but now her body was pressing into him, hips angling toward his touch.

She let out a quiet sigh, I couldn't hear it, but I could see it in the way her mouth opened against his. Jaime pulled back, just enough to look at her, and said something. She smiled, slow and dangerous, and nodded.

Then she stood up.

My breath caught.

Carol didn't say a word as she took Jaime's hand and led him down the hallway, toward our bedroom. Her movements were smooth, deliberate. She knew exactly what she was doing.

I sat back in my seat, blood rushing through my ears, unsure what I felt, jealousy, betrayal, arousal. Maybe all three. I tapped to switch the feed. The bedroom camera came into view just as Carol stepped in and turned on the dim light.

She didn't even close the door.

Jaime followed, and she kissed him again, harder this time. Then she turned her back to him, lifting her hair, silently asking him to unzip her dress.

He did.

The fabric slipped down her back, revealing skin I knew by heart. But now it was someone else touching her sexy curves. Someone else pulling the straps from her shoulders. Someone else seeing her the way I had so many times, except she was giving herself to him freely.

Carol stepped out of her dress completely, standing completely naked in front of Jaime. Jaime was already tugging off his shirt.

My wife's hands found the button of his jeans, her lips grazing his neck as she worked them open. They tumbled naked onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and heat.

I don't know why I couldn't stop watching.

It's as though I was paralyzed, in shock.

On the screen, the soft amber light from the bedside lamp fell across Carol's naked body as she straddled Jaime, her knees planted firmly on either side of his hips. Her back was to the camera, my view, giving me a full glimpse of her beautiful ass, I'd kissed a thousand times. But tonight, it wasn't mine to touch.

I could barely hear her voice but what I could hear was low. Sultry. Commanding.

"Slower," she whispered. "Let me guide you into me. I want to feel how hard and swollen you are."

A pause. A breath.

"Gawd yes. Just like that. Your huge."

Jaime's hands gripped her waist, thrusting his hard cock into her pussy with an urgency. Her head tilted back slightly, lips parted in a breath I could almost hear, and then she started to slide up and down on this cock, slowly at first, rocking her hips in a rhythm that was deliberate, practiced, powerful. I could see Jaime's cock thrusting in and out of her pussy from behind.

Not shy. Not hesitant.

She was in control.

I watched her body rise and fall, watched Jaime's hands slide over her thighs, her back, her ass. One hand reached up to her breast, cupping it as she rocked faster now, chasing something deep and undeniable. His mouth opened in a groan, and Carol leaned forward to kiss him again, hard, possessive, her hand braced on his chest as she rode his hard cock.

My throat was dry. My pulse pounded in my ears. I wasn't supposed to be seeing this, but I couldn't look away. The woman on the screen was my wife but also someone different tonight. Bolder. Unrestrained.

Carol arched her back, hair cascading down her back, fingers digging into Jaime's shoulders as the rhythm intensified. His hands grabbed her ass tight. Her movements grew urgent, gasping, beautiful. She was close. I knew that sound, that shift in her breath, the way her thighs tightened when she was on the edge of cumming.

And then she let go. Even on video camera I could see her squirt her fluid.

I saw it ripple through her, hips trembling, body jerking in release, a cry I could only imagine, before she collapsed onto Jaime, both of them breathless, tangled together on our bed.

My bed. Our bed.

I sat there in silence, the store forgotten, the wine forgotten, everything but the image of Carol laying on top, naked, and wrapped around another man.

And still... I couldn't stop watching.

arms of another man, fucking.

She was untouchable.

Reflection & Intimacy (Expanded)

The morning came soft and golden.

Sunlight spilled across the hardwood like liquid amber. You were already awake--had been for some time--seated alone on the patio with a mug of coffee gone cold in your hand. The house was still. The silence hung thick with memory.

You heard the back door creak open behind you, and your breath caught before you even turned.

Carol stepped outside barefoot, wearing one of your button-down shirts and nothing else.