Category: Fetish Stories

Haley Ch. 01-02

by ClosetQuean©

Chapter 1

John had dropped me off at the hotel and was probably pulling up in front of Haley's house at this very moment, I calculated.

My hotel room overlooked the bay. Not bad for reserving the room through one of those internet discount sites, I thought. Usually, my rooms overlooked the hotel's central heat and air tangle of ducts. And the parking lot. What a wonderful change to gaze at the dark green hills across the bay. The water was choppy, greenish and dotted with parasails of every color. I opened the drapes completely. I wanted sunlight. Anything to dispel my anxiety and foreboding.

I unpacked my clothes and arranged them in the wardrobe, lined up my toiletries on the sink countertop, and last, but not least, set up my laptop. My only connection to the outside world. And Scrabble. And Facebook. Ah, Facebook. I logged into John's account and navigated directly to his messages. It was the most recent message from Haley that I homed in on. Again.

John,

I don't know what you think you'll achieve by coming here on Saturday. Whatever we had ended 25 years ago. Guilt won't bring those years back. And there's no place for you in your daughter's life -- she's already an adult. But, if you're going to drop by, I can't stop you. I see you're still as stubborn as ever. Haley

Haley. The woman he'd left all those years ago, when he was just 17. Haley was ten years older than John and pregnant with his baby. She'd known John wasn't willing to marry her. But she hadn't known he'd leave her high and dry and move to Nevada to be with me. But he did. She raised their daughter on her own. And even though John and I built our life together, and had our own children, the intervening miles and passing years didn't make John forget about Haley like he thought they would.

Still, John had never mentioned them. I'd never seen him try to call or write Haley. I could have fooled myself into thinking he had gotten over her completely -- except;

He'd never stopped dreaming of her. John would murmur her name while asleep. He'd even had long, involved arguments with her in his sleep. He'd whispered her name lovingly into my ear, "'Lee..." when making love to me. A few times. Okay, more than just a few times over the years. Actually, the last time was just last week.

That whisper, that whisper filled with lust and longing, was what made me decide on this somewhat unconventional (or crazy and stupid) course of action. I used John's Facebook account to send Haley a message. I wrote the letter as if it had come from John. It took forever, it seemed, but I was pretty sure she'd read the letter and believe it was from John. The content was not altogether true, I had to admit. If I had been completely honest with her, the message would have gone something like this:

Dearest Haley,

Even though we've been apart for so long, I still think of all those nights we spent together. And I can't help it - I still want you. I can almost feel myself sliding into your body, into your slickness. Each night, I'd bury myself so deep into you. Only there, thrusting inside of you, did I ever feel I was home.

One other thing: Mila loves watching me fuck other women. And she thinks it'd be great for me to start fucking you again, seeing as how (in retrospect and with the knowledge that comes with age) you were so in love with me then that you were grateful for the sloppy seconds, thirds and fourths you received whenever I came home after seeing my girlfriends. Mila thinks you're a submissive freak and would fit perfectly into our kinky lifestyle. And I agree.

So, spread your legs, baby, because I'm coming home.

Love always,

John

THAT would have been the truth. Instead, I crafted a letter that was guaranteed to melt her heart and dissolve the bitterness of John's desertion. I'd used John's own memories he'd related to me to convince her how he'd never stopped loving her, how he'd regretted the idiotic decisions he'd made due to his youth and inexperience, and how, with the years flying by, maybe the two of them could grasp at the happiness denied them all those years ago. P.S. Mila understood completely and was willing to do anything to make John happy as well as to atone for causing Haley such misery before.

John got a little misty when I had him read the letter -- but he managed to restrain his emotions. He did not, however, manage to restrain his raging hard-on at my prurient and clever plan of action. John re-read the letter again. While reading, he unzipped his pants and forced my head down, down, down over his cock until I gagged. As his cum flooded my throat, he pressed "send message."

My machinations were in motion; whether John could work his way back into Haley's heart (and panties), however, was up to him. He was confident, sure of his power over her after all these years.

"Just let me see her," he'd said. "All I have to do is see her and I'm sure I can start fucking her again. I know it."

His confidence turned me on.

My phone and my computer remained silent and still: John had not called or messaged me. I could only imagine what was happening. Haley could be pretty tough; she might have just sent him running. I doubted it, though. I was pretty sure John could talk his way back between her legs without much effort. Pretty damn sure. The knowledge sent a thrill through me and evoked an image of John's naked ass pumping between his old lover's spread thighs. Unable to resist the urge, I flopped onto the bed, my hand pressed firmly between my legs. John, as always, was the star of my sexual imaginings. I envisioned his thick shaft completely buried inside of Haley's pussy, making her cry out and triggering my own shuddering release.

I slept.

When I woke up, the sun had already set. The room was dark and cool. Shivering, I turned the heat on and headed to the bathroom to wash up and make myself presentable for dinner in the lobby. The process took longer now than it used to, but within a quarter hour, the face that gazed back at me in the mirror no longer looked wan and puffy from sleep. My black hair shone. Eyeliner and mascara, blush and lipstick, powder and perfume. Black jeans, black leather boots, low-cut top of gray silk.

I stepped back to appraise my appearance. There were a few more wrinkles around my eyes and mouth, I noticed, sighing. I dimmed the almost blindingly bright bathroom light. Finally.

I was pretty again.

I'd hoped John would have come back for me by now. I checked my phone messages. Nothing. He hadn't bothered to call me and let me know what was happening. A sharp twinge assailed me. It was jealousy, I knew. No Facebook messages, either. The flashing icon alerted me to open up my Skype application and log in.

I opened up the application. The video feed was on. Something was moving in the display. I peered closer, then stepped back with a slight gasp, eyes wide.

John was working his magic on Haley. On his old flame. His first love. Just as I'd dreaded and hoped for and fantasized about. He had worked his magic in and around Haley's mind and heart.

Just as he was working his hard shaft in and out of Haley's dripping hole.

I gazed, hypnotized, watching my husband, my best friend, my soul mate, fuck another woman. He was far gone, I could tell, lost in the sensations of this novel, exciting flesh.

Despite my growling stomach, I knew I wouldn't be getting dolled up for dinner and drinks downstairs. There was no way I wanted to miss even one second of my man's fuck. I couldn't tear myself away from the scene in front of me if I wanted to. Plus, I desperately needed to cum. Again. Inconceivable, I thought, and laughed silently. The door had barely clicked closed behind me before I flung myself on the bed, the laptop barely inches from my greedy eyes. I came. In seconds.

John was still pumping between Haley's spread thighs as I called for room service.

"I'd like the salmon," I ordered, panting. I was still breathless from my most recent orgasm. "With, um, garlic potatoes and asparagus. Thanks."

Salmon sounded delicious. Normally, I order pasta or salad, but I wanted the salmon. Was I craving the taste of fish in my mouth? The thought cracked me up.

I checked the action on the screen. They'd changed positions; Haley was astride my man, riding him furiously. My view consisted of Haley's back, her ass sliding up to reveal John's wet, shining cock before it disappeared again as her ass pressed against his balls. I loved the view of their conjoined flesh. But I wanted to see her face. I wanted to witness her excitement, her need, generated by my husband's rock-hard manhood inside of her.

As if he'd heard my silent pleas, John lifted Haley up just enough so that - while still remaining buried within her, he could spin her body around to face his feet. To face the cam recording them. To face ME.

Haley wasn't smiling, I noticed. She rode him, excitedly, as John's hands kneaded her soft breasts. With her eyes squeezed shut, Haley wholly concentrated on working towards her climax. Although she made no sounds, her lips moved without stopping, as if she were begging. Or, I thought, looking at her grimace of concentration, her closed eyes, her ceaselessly moving lips, she looked as if she were praying, reciting a litany of entreaties, like a devotee reveling in an ecstasy of devotion.

Suddenly, Haley threw her head back as her body went rigid, then began shuddering. A breathy moan escaped her throat as waves of pleasure wracked her senses. John's hands quickly moved from cupping her breasts to rolling her erect nipples between thumb and forefinger. Just as he would with me. I quirked a smile, knowing what she would get next. And she did. For, as Haley's orgasm began to subside, John ceased caressing her breasts and nipples and began squeezing them mercilessly, pulling them until her nipples were stretched thin. Haley whimpered at the pain. Her whimpers only urged John on. He pinched them harder, harder, harder, without mercy. I closed my eyes, then, reliving John's fingers on my own nipples, the searing blend of pleasure and pain that he'd made me crave, crawl for, beg for.

Haley let out a keening cry of surrender. My eyes snapped open to watch John, knowing the sound would trigger his own climax. It did. John's thrust his hips upward, burying himself in her heat and wetness. I looked closely and was rewarded with the sight of his balls pulsing as the cum pumped relentlessly into his newest woman. With one final growl, John finally finished unloading his semen, then collapsed back onto the bed, spent.

I slid my hand down, between my legs, once more. My pussy was sopping wet, my finger easily sliding within its folds, tracing circles on my swollen clit. For, while the sight of the two of them fucking and exploding in ecstasy was no less than spectacular, the grande finale was yet to come.

And come it did.

Haley, breathless and weak, had collapsed backwards on top of John, her spread legs dangling weakly outside of John's legs. John, conscious of the view presented to me, spread his thighs even farther apart to make sure I had a clear view of the aftermath of his fucking. I thanked him, silently, as I was presented with my reward.

As I watched and waited, the Carly Simon song, "Anticipation," began playing softly in the background of my brain. And I was rewarded, as I'd fantasized by the sight of Haley's cum-filled cunt slowly releasing its treasure. John's cum - hot, sweet, and white - was seeping out on all sides of his softening shaft as John resumed stroking in and out of her, mixing his cum with her juices to create the thick "fuck cream" I loved. Each upstroke added more cream to his cock. Each down stroke displayed even more of his fuck. Soon, a ring of his fuck juice encircled the base of his cock. More of it was smeared all over his balls and had collected in the creases of his thighs.

Finally, John lifted Haley up and let his cock slip out of her. With his own thighs, he pushed her legs even further apart and held her hips in the air a few inches above him to display her cunt. Her lips were loose, stretched, I noticed admiringly. John's slid a finger between her folds and into its depths. He hooked some more of the delicious ambrosia created by his semen and her juices and pulled it out. The drops of cream became a thin stream that dripped onto the bed sheet. Soon, a small pool had collected beneath them. I wanted, more than anything, to be able to kneel between their legs and lick up every single drop of their cum. I wallowed in my fevered imaginings of the heat, the slickness, the smell, the TASTE of their fuck ambrosia.

My orgasm exploded outward from its white-hot lust center within me; a nova. Supernova. A brilliant white light that filled my brain and seared my flesh.

Then, oblivion.

Chapter 2

I wasn't sure if I had fainted or just fell asleep when the electronic ringtone of my cellphone pulled me back from the void. It was John, I knew, since the ringtone was "Under My Thumb" by the Rolling Stones. I had chosen the ringtone because subtly revealing his power over me via the ringtone titillated and amused me. After all of John's calls that had allowed me to electronically spy on them via his hidden webcam or just listen to him fucking other women through the cell phone, however, it wasn't funny anymore. It just turned me on. It made me wet. I had become conditioned for arousal whenever I heard the song in any format. I was willing to bet that even a polka version of "Under My Thumb" being played on the accordian'd do the trick, too.

On the screen, John was sprawled on his back, cradling Haley on his left shoulder, his left hand absently caressing the curve of her breast. He held the cell phone to his right ear, waiting for me to answer. I pressed "accept".

"Hey..." I answered, softly.

"Hey. Just checking on you," John said. "You okay?"

"With you fucking your first love again? Like, over and over?" I asked.

Abruptly, the hand stroking Haley's breasts stopped in mid-caress and I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. He remained silent.

I laughed, softly, and let him off the hook.

"I'm just kidding," I assured him. "I am so much better than I thought I'd be. I'm good. Actually, more than good."

The hand resumed its exploration of his new lover's tit. John looked directly toward the hidden cam lens and smiled.

"Really?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, Mila."

"I swear to God, I've never been more turned on in my life. NEVER," I said. "Okay, I'm a little jealous. But that's part of what turns me on...you know that. I must have come twenty times just watching you fuck her. At least twenty times."

"Well, then, what do you say?" John asked, his voice steely.

My pussy twitched in response.

"Thank you, Master," I whispered. "Thank you for letting me watch you fuck Haley."

John wrested his arm from beneath Haley's head and rolled onto his side. He propped himself up on his right elbow, pressing the phone tightly against his ear. He slid his left hand between Haley's thighs.

"Open," he told her.

Obediently, Haley slid her legs further apart for him. And, unknowingly, for my view. John slid his index finger into the wet depths of her pussy, looked directly at the webcam. At me.

"Again," he ordered.

"Thank you for letting me watch you slide your finger into Haley's pussy," I murmured.

"And?" he prompted.

"You are so good to me. I love being your cunt," I whispered, entranced, watching the pussy juice glistening on his finger.

"Good girl," he said. "Haley's been a good girl, too. Here."

Without warning, John put the phone to Haley's ear.

"Mila has something she wants to say to you," he told her. He licked two fingers and slid them inside of her.

"Hello?" Haley said. Her voice was husky, I noticed. Sexy.

"Hi, Haley," I said, tentatively.

"Hi, Mila," she said. Worry furrowed her brow. "I hope you're not-"

I interrupted her.

"Don't worry. Really. I'm not mad," I assured her. "Actually, I'm happy. John's never stopped wanting you. Never."

To be continued...

Written by: ClosetQuean

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Story Tags: cuckquean, voyeur, female cuckold, cuckold wife, creampie, cheating husband, bdsm, male dominance, female submission, cuntold

Category: Fetish Stories