Tunnel of Love Pt. 02

The man was sucking on Jennifer's neck. He kissed his way up to her earlobe. Taking it in his mouth, he nibbled on it.

Jennifer unzipped his pants. She reached in and smiled. Her hand moved inside his pants for a moment.

Then, Jennifer pulled out the man's cock and gazed at it. It was long, it was thick, it was straight, and the head was huge. It was, in a word, perfect.

Holding that perfect cock, Jennifer jacked it off a couple of times. Then, massaging it, she stared up at the man, right into his smiling eyes. Without looking away, she lowered her mouth to the head.

"You want me to lick this?" she asked with a teasing lilt.

"I do," the man answered.

Smiling, Jennifer flicked out her tongue.

* * *

Gayle watched the video raptly. She trembled with nervousness, excitement, guilt, fear, and anticipation.

Looks like an apartment. Is this where they "went for a drink?" She always left that part vague.

Yup, that's her...and that must be James! Wow, he is beautiful...amazingly beautiful...no wonder Jennifer...

No...don't do it, Jennifer. Get up and leave.

Oh shit.

So wrong...so fucking wrong...why can't I stop watching?

Oh shit, they're...I shouldn't be watching this...but I have to know.

Oh god, her hand is reaching...

She's smiling—must like what she's grabbed...why I am still watching this?

Oh shit Jennifer...oh shit Gayle...this is so wrong...

Oh shit oh shit she's going to go down on him, her tongue is out and she's about to suck his—

* * *

The screen faded to black.

Gayle was confused. She waited, wondering if the video was really over. It was; though after a few moments, it began to repeat. Gayle was breathing hard.

Should not have watched. Should NOT have watched. I crossed the line. How will they react? I won't be able to pretend that I didn't watch this.

On the screen, Jennifer and the man were kissing again.

Maybe it doesn't matter that I've seen this. Now that Mike's seen this, their chances are slim. Slim to none! After she swore, on her sister's grave—Jesus—this must have hit him like an atom bomb. His own private Hiroshima. There might be nothing left of him but a pile of ash—or a shadow on a wall.

Would Jennifer, at least, come back for counseling? She was going to need it! Gayle tried to think of what she would say to Jennifer—or hit her with.

She played me. I knew better—I should have known better—but I started to believe. And Mike...oh Jennifer, how could you?

But as Gayle continued to watch the video, she found it difficult to think at all—much less, think critically of Jennifer. The man on the screen was so alluring. The scene was so erotic.

Turn it off. Turn it off! Stop watching!

But Gayle could not. As the man's stiff dick appeared again, Gayle could not tear her eyes away. Worse...she realized she was aroused.

This is so wrong...so wrong in every way...

The video repeated again. Soon, the man was playing with Jennifer's breasts again. Gayle felt her nipples harden. As the man tugged on Jennifer's nipples, Gayle imagined how it might have felt.

I'm losing my mind. This is crazy. I'm going to stop watching.

But when Jennifer pulled out the man's huge, hard cock, Gayle felt a pulse in her pussy. She knew she was getting wet. Her rational mind and conscience—ego and superego—continued to voice objections, but their voices were growing distant. Her id was taking over.

As Jennifer lowered her head to lick the man's cock, Gayle's tongue subtly and involuntarily extended. When the video ended again, she closed her eyes and imagined taking that cock in her mouth. That set off another round of objections, which nearly shocked her back to her senses. She opened her eyes.

The video was repeating. The remote control was across the room. Part of Gayle wanted to get up and turn everything off, but the rest of her felt glued to her chair. She watched the video again.

The man was gorgeous. The seduction was electric; though who was seducing whom, it was actually hard to say. Adding to it all was the this-is-wrong-but-I-can't-stop feeling of being a voyeur to an intimate scenario involving one of her clients.

Gayle was incredibly turned on. By the end of the video, she was leaning back in her chair. Her legs were no longer crossed but spread. And her hand was between her legs, pressing on her crotch.

She knew it was wrong; so very, very wrong. But now, she was beyond caring. Something had finally snapped inside her—or, more precisely, collapsed. The firewall was down; certainly for the rest of the night, maybe forever.

As the video repeated again, Gayle unbuttoned her blouse. When the man kissed Jennifer's neck, Gayle caressed her own neck. When he caressed Jennifer's breasts, she did the same to hers. When he tugged on Jennifer's nipples, she pulled down the cups of her bra and rolled her own hard nubs. She continued to play with her tits through the rest of the video.

When it ended, she unbuttoned and unzipped her slacks. Raising and spreading her legs, she placed her feet on the edge of the desk. Keeping one hand on her breast, she licked the fingers on her dominant hand, slid it down under her panties, and began to stroke her clit.

As the action on the screen heated up, so did Gayle's masturbation. The fingers on her clit were setting off sparks. Her other hand squeezed and kneaded her breast. Her breathing was heavy. When the video ended and the early scenes began again, she closed her eyes and rubbed her button furiously.

Gayle tried to imagine how Jennifer had felt.

Alone, away from home, despondent, vulnerable, in the arms of a devastatingly attractive man. Thought yielding to emotion, emotion distilling to lust...

Then, even more intrigued, Gayle tried to imagine how James had felt.

Mike was right. That man, with his secret cameras, is no innocent—he's a player. And what a player! Imagine having not only that physical appeal but also the insight and skill to exercise such psychological and emotional control over a happily married woman. To have her at his mercy, offering no resistance as he kissed her...touched her! To feel her kiss him back...and go for his cock...and stick out her tongue...

On the edge of coming, Gayle let her imagination drift farther.

I wonder what his secret is. What if I could find out? How would it be...to match charms and wits with him! To play the player, seduce the seducer! To have that Adonis of a man with his huge cock under my control! For that to be me on the couch! Him, kneeling in front of me! Asking...no, begging...to lick me!

Hearing a noise, Gayle opened her eyes in panic. However, the noise was just Jennifer, in the video, unzipping James' pants. Gayle was very close to climaxing, and she knew what was about to happen in the video would push her over the cliff. Staring at the screen, eyes bulging, Gayle's fingers went all-out on her nipple and clit.

As she watched Jennifer's head descend towards James' cock, Gayle imagined it was James' head descending towards her slit. Instantly, she felt the first wave of an orgasm crest. When Jennifer's tongue snaked out, Gayle imagined James' tongue doing the same. The wave broke. Gayle closed her eyes—and screamed.

* * *

Jennifer was also screaming.

"Mike! Miiike! MIIIKE!"

When she'd arrived home, the house had been dark. Pitch dark. She'd had a sense of déjà vu—but then realized that she really had lived this before.

That Sunday night, when I came home after the birthday parties, and Mike was downstairs. The night it all started to fall apart...

Mike's car was not in the driveway. She clicked open the garage door. It was not in the garage either.

As she passed through the garage, she looked over at the rack where they stored their luggage. Several suitcases were gone.

Mike's suitcases.

Oh no. Ohmigod no.

She ran into the house, screaming for Mike. Not a single light was on. She ran upstairs. Still no lights. No sounds.

From the top of the stairs, the hallway to the bedrooms looked a mile long. Distorted, too; like a hallway out of the hotel in Kubrick's film version of The Shining. Distorted, and every bit as scary—maybe more so.

With every step, Jennifer's heart beat louder. When she reached the end of the hall, she glanced through the open door into their bedroom...her bedroom. Nothing.

The door to the spare bedroom—Mike's bedroom—was closed. For several moments, she stood in front of it, paralyzed. Finally, he grabbed the knob, turned it, opened the door, and turned on the light.

Oh no...

The room was in disarray. The dresser drawers and the closet door were open. A few items remained, but most of Mike's clothes and effects were gone.

He's gone.

Jennifer felt weak in the knees. Her legs gave out. She sunk to the floor.

Mike's gone. Mike's gone. Oh god, oh god, oh god...