Chapter 1: Across the Lawn
I wasn’t even supposed to be home that night. I was supposed to be half a country away.
In hindsight, I suppose it was fate that brought me to my bedroom balcony. But at the time, fate felt a lot more like, I don’t know… insecurity?
I had a four day conference in Opal County. You wouldn’t think an accounting conference for operations executives would be the liveliest place. Neither did I. But it turns out, all that drinking and rowdiness was too much for me. Besides, I missed my husband Pete. So I came home a day early. I thought I’d surprise him.
I parked the car just outside the garage in our long cobblestone driveway. The house was dark; not a soul in sight. I tiptoed down the slate footpath to the front door and cracked it open.
“Hello?”
Nothing. Maybe he’s upstairs? I checked the bedrooms, the bathroom. His office in the back.
This was before everyone had a cell phone, mind you, so I couldn’t just text him. Pete has always been a bit of a luddite. Wherever the world was, Pete was a decade behind.
But it didn’t matter; I was sure Pete would be home soon. I dropped my bags, took a shower and shaved my legs. Stepped into this cute little lingerie number I bought in Opal. I thought Pete would like it. He always liked when I did little things like that.
I treated myself to a glass of Côtes du Rhône from the upstairs bar. Stepped through our sliding veranda doors onto the big balcony outside our second story bedroom.
It was a brisk summer evening, and the sun had just set. Crickets were in full swing. The world was quiet, with the occasional exception of faraway traffic or the echo of a barking dog.
We lived in an upscale, suburban neighborhood; all beautiful homes and manicured lawns, trees. Playgrounds in the backyards and swimming pools. The moon was out that summer night, and I could see roofs of houses, chimneys. The glowing gold of lit bedrooms and kitchens.
Right across our lawn, over the white picket fence, our neighbor’s bedroom light came on. That’s the Rossi house: Kim and Jack. They’re an adorable young couple a few years younger than us. Beautiful, too.
I was always a little jealous of their looks. And their youth.
Kim came into view in the bedroom, wearing a pink tube top and sporty blue shorts. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t see the door, but the blinds were open and I could see her full bedroom: the bed, the old mahogany chest with a model sailboat on the second shelf, the picture of her and Jack hiking on their nightstand. The full-length mirror on the far wall.
I watched as Kim pulled her tube top over her head, and I thought maybe I should step back inside and give her some privacy. But I had to acknowledge that she was beautiful.
I had never been attracted to women. I mean, I guess I’d never thought about it. I come from a place and time where women weren’t supposed to be attracted to women, so I married Pete and that was that.
But Kim’s body was so unlike my own. She was tiny, maybe 5’1 and 90 pounds soaking wet. She had that boyish bob cut that was so in vogue at the time, and she walked with an elegance and confidence that was hard to ignore, even from a woman so tiny.
I figured there was no harm in watching, just for a minute.
She absentmindedly turned to face the window as her arms disappeared behind her back. Her chest thrust forward a little to maneuver the clasp on her bra. It fell down all at once, revealing her tiny breasts and her perky nipples. I could see her ribs and her flat little stomach. I wish I still had that.
I sipped my wine and let my other hand drift to the inside of my thigh.
She pulled her shorts over her hips and let them drop to the floor. She wasn’t wearing any underwear at all! Can you believe that? And even crazier, there wasn’t a single hair between her legs. Totally smooth. She had thin little thighs and I watched her firm butt bounce as she scampered over to the mahogany chest. She rifled through and pulled out a matching set of black lingerie.
My fingers traced up my thigh and between my legs. I’d never watched another woman like this, especially not in the privacy of her own home.
Was I invading her space?
Was this a violation?
I watched as she pulled up a black g-string over her thighs and clasped her lacy top behind her back. She watched herself in the mirror, and I could see her eyes in the reflection. She tucked her short hair behind her ear and puffed out her perky tits, admiring her own body.
And who could blame her?
But then something happened. I was certain her eye caught mine in the mirror. My heart froze. But she surprised me. It might have just been my imagination, but I thought I saw her nibble on her bottom lip.
And I swear, I swear I saw her reflection… wink at me.
That was all I could take. Shame to the wind. I was gushing now, with my fingers between my legs and rubbing vigorously.
Kim turned back to the door and disappeared from view. I was intruding on her sexy night with Jack; this was their private time. I should have headed back inside just then. I was going to head back inside.
I promise.
But Kim appeared again, this time with a man. She had her legs wrapped around his waste, embraced in an intense kiss. He was much larger than her, and she looked tiny in his arms. But she was in control. In charge. As always, elegant in her smallness, even in the bedroom.
But that man wasn’t Jack. I couldn’t see his face because it was tucked in her shoulder, but I knew, without a doubt, Kim had someone else over.
Then I saw it. The tattoo on his shoulderblade. The shape of his back.
That’s Pete! My Pete!
She’s fucking my husband! The sweet girl I chat with at the grocery store, at the mailbox?
I’m on my balcony in a robe and lingerie I picked out to surprise my husband. I flew across the country just to make him happy tonight. And here I am, alone on my balcony, fingering myself to the woman he’s about to fuck!
I should have been outraged. Furious. I should have stomped over there and thrown a fit. Did her husband know? How long had this been happening? Did any of that matter at all? I wanted to know everything and nothing all at once. I wanted full access and complete deniability.
Pete was sitting on the edge of the bed now, Kim straddling his lap. She pulled his shirt over his head, grinding on his pelvis. My husband fumbled with her bra.
She pushed him back on the bed, kissed his neck. Traced little circles on his shoulders. She moved down ever so slowly, inch by inch, kissing his chest. Tracing his nipples. He ran his fingers through her bob cut.
This woman is stunning; so much prettier than me. My husband is handsome and charming. I guess I was struggling to understand how I factored into this equation. I felt rage, sure. But more than that, I was embarrassed. Ashamed that he had to stray. Ashamed that I wasn’t enough for him. Of course he would choose this petite beauty over me.
She’s down to the hem of his pants now. His eyes are closed. My fingers are back between my legs.
Part of me is proud of him. Part of me thinks he deserves this. I think I deserve it. I should have been so angry. I should have hated him. But I was so incredibly aroused. I was humiliated, cast aside by the person I trusted most in this world. And it turned me on.
His pants are around his ankles now. His cock is standing at attention. He’s big – he always has been – but in the last few years, I had to spend a few minutes… you know, down there… to get him hard enough to fuck. But now? He’s already rock hard.
It’s a beautiful summer night, but there’s a gentle breeze in the air. But maybe I deserve to be a little cold. Maybe if I peep on my husband cheating on me with the sexy neighbor, I should suffer? Maybe? I find my fingers sliding my robe off my shoulders, down my arms. A gentle breeze and cold air. I feel goosebumps rise.
Kim is between his legs, down on his shaft like a pornstar. She’s tiny, but she takes him all the way to the base. When I blow him – which is almost never – I barely go down two inches before I gag. It always makes him upset and throws off our rhythm.
My body shivered, but whether it was from the cold or the abject humiliation, I didn’t know. My pussy was aching and I was rubbing… rubbing.
Rubbing.
He’s on the bed now, his head on a pillow. She’s mounting him, reverse cowgirl, the full glory of her sexy, young little body facing me as she slides onto my husband. Pete never lets me ride him. He’s always on top. He’s always leading.
I guess I didn’t have the words for it then, but there’s something invigorating about surrendering. Something so incredibly powerful about letting your ego go altogether, about allowing yourself to be embarrassed and humiliated. If you can get past those bland emotions – those primary colors of rage and sadness and jealousy – there’s something deeper on the other side.
Her eyes glance up, out the window. I swear she’s looking me dead in the eye. At first I turned away. Blushed. But I feel my gaze meet hers. We stare through each other. She slides down on his shaft even harder now, her eyes never breaking from mine. Nor mine from hers.
I heard the rising voice of my inner mind, my deepest, darkest inner thoughts pounding away at my eardrums.
“You’re not enough. You never will be.”
Rubbing.
“She is everything. You? You are garbage. You have no value.”
Rubbing. Moaning, out here on in the summer air, on the back balcony of a million dollar home in an upscale suburban neighborhood. Let them hear.
They’re in full swing together now, riding hard and fast. And her eyes are still on mine.
“Give the world to her. Give her your husband. Give her your body. Give her your mind.”
But that voice in my mind had transformed, somehow. It was no longer me speaking, but her, somehow. Kim, complete with her posh English accent. Complete with her elegant, compassionate energy. Whispering right in my ear from across the lawn.
Rubbing. Rubbing. Rising to an orgasm.
“Give me your dignity!”
I was screaming now. She’s riding him even harder. Her eyes are locked on mine. Her face is contorted in a mix of earnest pleasure and sadistic ownership.
“Give me everything. I am all that matters!”
And she was right.
“Cum with me. Cum on your fingers while I cum on your husband’s cock!”
I’ve never cum that hard in my life. I came to my husband fucking the neighbor. I came peeping on a private moment. I came to Kim stealing the orgasm I was supposed to get from Pete. My orgasm.
My husband, and my orgasm? My body and my mind?
In that moment, they were hers.
Author’s Note: This story is a production of The Eros Society, the world’s premier members-only sex club. As always, it has been recorded as a high-quality audio narrative as well. For the audio version, visit the Eros Society on Patreon: www.patreon.com/ErosSociety