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From: malinov@mindless.com (Malinov)
Subject: {ASS} Imagining my Surprise by Lord Malinov
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Imagining my Surprise
by Lord Malinov
~~~
Cindy aroused me, that first day, when Nancy brought her new friend
by the house. There is something seductive in that woman's eyes, a
sultriness that tempted me the moment I saw her. I remember, I was
sitting at my desk, pouring over some equations when my wife knocked
on the study door and asked me if I knew where the spade was. I
didn't even know we had one, and mumbled incoherently, lost in
quadratic remainders.
"Ted," Nancy said, a note of complaint in her voice, "was that a
'yes' or a 'no'?" I looked up from my page of symbols and saw the
dark woman standing just beyond my fair wife. As quickly, I forgot
Nancy's question.
"No," I said, shaking my distraction.
"Well," said Nancy, "I'm home. We'll be in the garden."
She had probably mentioned Cindy before, but I didn't pay much
attention to names of people I hadn't met, so I had no idea who she
was. I tried to re-immerse myself in the trap-door formula, but
found my thoughts lingering on Cindy, a brief impression which had
fixed itself firmly in my mind's eye. She had been standing in the
shadows, and there is nothing really exceptional about her beauty,
except that she struck me as simply lovely. I closed my book and
headed into the kitchen to fix a drink, and then, noticing the
sunshine, decided to take a look in the garden.
The two women knelt in the dirt, laughing, digging a shallow trough
in the soil.
"Flowers?" I asked.
"I gave Nancy some strawberry plants," said Cindy. "Mine are
overtaking the space I have, and when she mentioned how much she
loves strawberries, well, we went out and dug some up."
"Mmm," I said, admiringly, "I love them, too. How long before I
can step out back and pluck a fresh berry?"
"Not until next year," said Nancy, placing the first plant into the
hole. "I want to put some raspberry bushes over against that,"
she said to Cindy, pointing toward the cedar fence.
"I love your garden," said Cindy, looking up to smile at me. My
heart fluttered, suddenly excited by that look in her eyes. She
leaned back on a her arms, pulling her t-shirt tight around
her right breast, a perfect fruit in its own right. Her long, lean
legs stretched out over the dirt, unafraid to feel the earth on her
bare skin. Her shorts fell loose around her tanned thighs, and I
found myself trying to spy panties in the slight gap.
After that sunny day, Cindy dropped by the house regularly, and with
each encounter, I found myself more occupied with thoughts of her, in
part because she was just an attractive woman, but also because of
that seductive look in her eyes, accompanied by a constant leering
smile which seemed to invite me to make some move. Nancy never paid
the slightest bit of attention to her friend's forwardness, a
blindness which slowly eroded any caution in my developing fantasies.
By the time the summer began to fade into fall, I thought about
Cindy, almost constantly.
The three of us had dinner together on a Wednesday night, nothing
special, Cindy just happened to drop by the house and Nancy asked her
to stay. As we ate our garden salad, I caught Cindy's eye, and all
at once, I knew I had to have her, and that she wanted me to have
her, and that nothing on earth was going to stop us. The dinner
passed almost in silence. Tension gripped us all.
I went to the office the next day and sat at my desk all morning in a
dreamy state somewhere between fantasy, indecision and madness.
After lunch, I called home, hoping a few words from Nancy would
dispel my uneasy heart. After three rings, I hung up the phone. I
couldn't talk to her. I called Cindy's number. Madness had infected
me completely.
I almost sighed with relief when no one answered. As I hung up the
phone, I realized I had no idea what to say to Cindy. If she was
thinking what I thought she was, I could do a dance of love between
her thighs, and probably ruin the marriage I had no reason to
destroy. If she wasn't, she would probably tell Nancy, and I'd ruin
the marriage, just the same.
My gun had jammed, and I'd been spared the crime I had so poorly
planned.
When I returned home that night, I wanted to make it all up to Nancy.
She would never know what I hadn't done, but I was going to give her
all the love she deserved, including the love I had almost wasted on
another. I found her in the kitchen. As I embraced her, she seemed
to shy away.
"I've been thinking about you," I said. "I called, but . . ."
"I was at Cindy's," she blurted out, her voice trembling.
"This afternoon?"
"Yes," Nancy said, and as quickly started cutting vegetables.
My blood burned through my veins. I tried to tell myself there were
a thousand logical explanations, but I could only think of one. I
had never known Nancy to lie to me, and never imagined she could ever
be unfaithful, but now I faced a colder reality.
I knew I should have just said something, but I couldn't. Nancy
seemed so upset that to begin accusing seemed too cruel. Besides,
how could I explain the fact that I had called her best friend's
house?
There was more to it, I think, than just wanting to catch my wife
red-handed in an affair. I loved her deeply, but I was still caught
in a state of infatuation for Cindy. I think part of me wanted to
justify my own feeling of guilt, so I could indulge myself in a
revenge that suited the crime better than just yelling and divorce.
If Nancy were cheating on me, fine, I thought, then I can sleep with
Cindy.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but I set a trap for my wife. I
invented a business dinner for the next Thursday night. I talked
about it all week, telling Nancy how much I was dreading it,
anticipating the possible promotions that might result, diving into
my papers every night to plan every contingency I might encounter.
Late Thursday afternoon, I called home. By this time, I believed
Nancy would lie to me.
"So, how are you going to spend your evening alone?"
"Cindy's coming over. We'll probably go to a movie, or maybe do some
shopping. What time will you be back?"
"Not before nine," I lied. "Maybe later."
"Well," she said. "Good luck."
"Yeah," I replied coolly. "Thanks, sweetheart."
I drove home at once and parked in the church lot a few blocks from
our house. I wanted to be there to see whatever was going to happen.
My whole body trembled as I walked toward our house. I hid in the
thick hedges that flanked the end, and settled uncomfortably to lean
against the wall, crouching.
After half an hour, I felt like a complete idiot. I realized my trap
was ill conceived, that while I might catch some Casanova who dropped
by for an evening rendezvous, there were a thousand other scenes that
would leave me sitting underneath an azalea in the dirt, oblivious to
my wife's guilt or innocence. I finally pulled myself out of the
bushes and jumped over the fence with a clatter.
I walked bent over, to keep my body below the deck railing, hoping
the neighbors wouldn't see me sneaking up on my own house. I peeked
into the family room. Nancy wasn't in sight. I crept over to the
dining room window, and again, found no one. I slipped into the back
door as quietly as I could. I never realized how much noise is
unavoidable in opening and closing a door, but no one called out, no
one screamed. My heart pounded and I headed toward the stairs. The
noisy whir of a hair dryer let me know I was safe for the moment. I
opened the door to the hall closet and slipped inside to huddle under
our long winter coats. I tried to slow my anxious breath, comforting
myself that I was safe for the time being. I felt insane.
If Nancy was drying her hair, that meant she had showered and that
meant she was grooming herself, all of which served to increase my
suspicion. I sat in the dark, burning in the heat as I imagined
Nancy with some other guy, fuming at the humiliation of her betrayal,
despairing at the years of delight that were torn crashing against
the shoals of this cruel shore. The wool of Nancy's long overcoat
stifled me until I could hardly breathe. I distracted myself with
lusty fantasies of Cindy, feeling righteous in my imagined debauchery
with my new mistress, taken by right in the midst of Nancy's cruel
betrayal. The doorbell rang. I sat up, feeling the ache of my
trapped posture.
Footsteps knocked a light rhythm down the stairs. "Hey, Cindy,"
Nancy said as the door swung open. "Come on inside."
"Wow, Nancy," said Cindy after the light smack of a friendly kiss.
"You look fantastic."
"C'mon," said Nancy, her voice bubbling with delight, "I'm dying to
show you what I did this afternoon." Their voices trailed down
the hallway. I sat trapped, huddling in my stifling cave of coats
and boots.
Time passed at a dull pace which made it impossible to even estimate
the duration. I felt slightly ashamed of myself. Nancy said Cindy
was coming over and she had. Hopefully they'd go to a movie so I
could escape without any risk of causing a scene. I waited.
"Show me, then," said Cindy's voice, approaching. I felt a quick
pulse of panic, afraid fate would conspire against me and the closet
door would suddenly lurch open. I held my breath, freezing stiff.
The girls bounded upstairs.
"This is so stupid," I muttered after another fifteen minutes or
so went by. I finally resolved to take a chance, take the three
steps out of the closet and out the front door, and get myself out of
this uncomfortable, undignified position. Maybe Nancy had cheated on
me, but with each passing moment, it seemed less likely. I was
taking too many chances, without even one good reason.
I listened at the door, cautiously, anxious to avoid a fatal mistake
in the last few seconds of my stupidity. Silence. I opened the door
slowly, peering out, my eyes burned by the hundred watts of our
living room light. I stepped out onto the marble foyer. I peeked
upstairs. I heard a low moan.
I knew the sound intimately. It was Nancy's. I had heard it a
thousand times, but never at such a distance. I started up the
stairs, too curious for caution. The sound grew heavier, louder.
Our bedroom door stood slightly ajar. I approached, unbelieving and
drawn. Pale hands wove into Cindy's dark brown hair, pulling her
down between Nancy's thighs. Throaty, low moans echoed through the
room.
My cock nearly tore through my trousers, such was my amazement at the
scene before me. My jaw dropped open, amazed. Nancy arched her
back, lifting herself to meet Cindy's kiss with her cunt. Nancy
yanked at her blouse, tearing a button in her anxious desire to knead
her own breasts. Mesmerized, I opened my fly and pulled out my
stick and started jacking myself furiously. Cindy stood up and
stripped. Nancy's pussy dripped, spread wide and waiting.
Cindy's ass was divine. Her cunt was delectable. Her tits were
magnificent. Nancy caressed and teased and patted and fondled and
squeezed and licked every bit of her friend with an ecstatic
admiration, while enduring the same devotions to her own beautiful
flesh. My prick screamed at the constant invitations of swollen
slippery labia, of tongues and hard nipples, hungrily begging me to
indulge myself in this feminine feast. But I stood wide-eyed and
watched, stroking myself in a fit of passion, wondering at the vision
before me, unwilling to risk the dream by pinching reality awake.
A moment of love paused.
"What is it?" asked Cindy, quietly.
"I can't help but feel guilty," said Nancy. "I think Ted has become
suspicious."
"You think he knows?"
"No," said Nancy. "But it might be better if he did. I'm afraid he
thinks I'm doing something worse than I am. Except this is, well,
I'm not sure this is better."
"C'mon," said Cindy with a playful giggle. "You know this is
better."
"Yeah, but I wish I didn't have to lie."
"Well, what time is he coming back?"
"Cindy! Could you do that?"
"Yeah, but more importantly, could you?"
"Yeah, I mean, I guess so, it would be hot, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah," said Cindy, leaning back, teasing her pussy while she
thought. "That would be hot."
"Nine."
"Hmm?"
"He'll be back after nine."
"Cool," said Cindy. "Let's think up some way to surprise him."
With that, I slowly backed away, dashed down the stairs and silently
slipped out the door. Walking back to my car, I imagined my
surprise.
~~~
Malinov
Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude
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