The Bust

The hallway is dark save for the light creeping through the crack of the slightly opened bathroom door halfway along. The house is quiet, I'm home early, unexpected. I can hear the shower running and smell the sweet steam because you always like the water hot. So hot. Punishing almost.

I walk slowly to the gap in the door and peer into the bathroom. The glass door of the shower reveals your naked body with the water pouring down and the steam rising up. That gloriously feminine, naked body which has driven me crazy for the past ten years. The one I devour with pleasure on an almost nightly basis, the one which pulls the most powerful sexual depravity out of me in such carnal and unexpected ways.

The glass door of the shower also reveals his naked body. Standing behind you, hands wrapped around and caressing your breasts in ways so intimate it is almost unspeakable. Pinching your nipples between his fingers, your head thrown back onto his shoulder, soft moans of wanton release escaping your lips, as his powerful cock plunges into your sweet cunt from behind. You always did like it from behind best. I recognise him as your ex-boyfriend.

I don't make my presence announced. A cuckold shame washes over me, through me. I stay there in the dark hallway, watching you and he fuck in my shower through the slightest crack in an open door. I feel my own cock stir, and reach a hand down to unbuckle my belt and break the seal. I spit into my hand, a second rate lube, but even the rudimentary things in life can help sometimes, and start to jerk my shaft. Harder. Faster. Friction burning, a days hard work policing creating a subtle masculine fragrance which reminds me I am a man after all, despite the emasculating fact I am secretly watching my girlfriend getting fucked by another guy.

You've turned around now and are embracing him, his cock still inside you, you've got one leg wrapped around his waist so he can no doubt get fuller penetration, and your tits are pressed hard against him. You've also got your tongue deep down his throat; funnily enough, that's the thing that stirs me most. Bizarre. Like it's a final crossing of an unspoken line.

And yet there I stand, jerking off in my hallway. I brace one hand against the door frame because I'm working hard now, thrusting forward to emphasise the heat of my action. I feel my biceps bulging, my forearms filling with lust crazed blood, my wrist getting sore from the abuse. And yet my cock screams for more, begging for more, crying for the final push over the edge of the cliff. And here it comes...

I quickly clean myself up with a handkerchief from my pocket and tuck myself away. Time to get my game face on, pull up some indignant pride and flush a little anger into the mix. The fact I just jerked off to the sight of it is my own guilty little secret, a conundrum I can't explain. But that conundrum is mine, and I enjoyed it. After all, I just busted you cheating on me. I can do whatever the fuck I want.

I push open the door with emphasise and drop a forced “What the fuck?!!”

You are on your knees in front of him, water streaming down your face, with a mouth full of cock and one hand cupping his balls. I see your eyes bug. I see his eyes bug and a look of fear sweep over his face as I pull my handgun out from its holster. I see him withdraw and lurch hilariously backward.

This is going to be fun.

Lucy, you got some 'splaining to do!

Hellcats 15 - Disc 1