Vicki’s Confessions: Watching Him With Him

By Britten Thorne

I knew my husband was having an affair. I never suspected it was with a man.
And I definitely didn’t expect it to be so hot to watch.

When I first realized my husband was bringing someone else into our home and into our bed, all I could do was clean. We couldn’t talk about it. I couldn’t accuse him without proof. So I scrubbed and dusted. I must have had the most immaculate apartment in the city.
That is, until I caught them. I listened to them through the door. I even caught them on video. But I still couldn’t make myself confront him about it - because I couldn’t stop watching.
I don’t know whether I should kick them out or join the party.

Warning: This 8,000 word short contains explicit language and graphic adult content, including a cheating husband and a wife who loves to watch.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Britten Thorne
• Release date: Feb 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311357823

Britten Thorne

Britten is a recovering Catholic schoolgirl with a raunchy imagination. Her favorite place to read erotica is on the train – there's nothing like having a dirty little secret in a crowded public place! When she isn't writing, she's caring for more pets than her landlord would find appropriate.

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Vicki’s Confessions: Watching Him With Him

Copyright 2014 Britten Thorne

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

Warning: contains adult content

He’s cheating. He’s cheating! This is evidence. I stood at the foot of the bed that we shared, looking down upon the rumpled blanket. I never would have left them wrinkled - I know they were neat and flat when I left for work that morning. But now, home alone in the evening, they were wrinkled. Mussed. Someone did a half-assed job putting the covers back in place. He doesn’t even care enough to make an effort to hide. Does he want me to catch him?

I could just picture him there, in our bed, with another woman. I tossed back the blanket and my heart jumped to my throat at the sight of the tangled sheets hidden beneath. Right there, in our own bed, in the home we shared. How could he?

I wondered what she looked like. What she was willing to do. I crawled onto the bed, balling the sheets in my fist. I imagined them there, writhing together, his ass taut as he plunged inside her. Her voice as she cried out her pleasure. His own familiar grunts and shudders. Impossibly, heat blossomed between my legs at the image.

Jon and I hadn’t been intimate in what seemed like a long time. It had always been that way - brief periods of frantic lovemaking, followed by longer stretches of inactivity. Now I wondered if those stretches coincided with affairs.

I sniffed the sheets clutched in my fist. I could smell Jon’s light cologne, his sweat, and beneath that, more unfamiliar scents. I didn’t have a discerning enough nose to zone in on anything specific, but they definitely didn’t smell like me.

It was enough confirmation, though. The heat between my legs throbbed insistently as images scrolled through my mind. There was no logical reason for this to turn me on. I was betrayed, I was angry. But there was no denying my arousal. I bought the sheets back to my face and inhaled deeply. I wonder what they did. Did she suck him off? I imagined another woman between my husband’s knees, head bobbing while he gripped her hair in a tight fist. I pictured him thrusting to meet her mouth, groaning for her. He was supposed to be mine -