Don't Tell (your wife)

Last week, Gina discovered her friends' secret. Now she's creating secrets of her own.

This is a work of fiction that contains explicit sex scenes and strong language.  It is intended for mature, adult readers aged 18 and older.  Issues such as STD's and other risks of sexual conduct are, for the most part, ignored, which means this story is fantasy in that it takes place in a world where such complications do not exist. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2024 by Ema Stonig. All rights reserved.  Published by Avenue Oh ™

Chapter 2: Don’t Tell (your wife)

(This is the 2nd of three chapters. To read Chapter 1, click here.)

Gina sits by the small pool of a hotel north of the city, waiting beneath the shade of an umbrella.

It’s a decent hotel, seven levels of glass and steel that reflect the Texas sunshine, located in a development of retail and restaurants, a place for people who’ve traveled in to do business in the nearby office park, or attend a convention downtown without having to pay city prices, or go to a wedding, or fuck a friend.

Like last week, Gina has thoughts about calling this off—what she’s planned, what she’s been excited about, anticipating … because how often do fantasies come to life the way you dance with them in your head?

Maybe Tracy won’t show.  And that will be that.  Because Gina won’t do this without Tracy … will she?  Keith, on the other hand, will surely be here.  Likely on time.  Maybe early.  And if Gina had to lay odds he’ll be hard and ready.  At least that’s how Gina sees Keith in her head.

On the opposite side of the pool, a girl in her early twenties wears a red one-piece, cut high to show off her legs.  Blond hair in a top knot, she’s been tapping away at her iPad the entire ten minutes Gina has been sitting here—the girl never once looking at Gina, the way young girls are these days, as though their generational divide makes Gina invisible.  Makes Gina think, am I that fucking old?  Also makes Gina a little self-conscious, and glad she’s meeting Keith upstairs in a room, not out here by the pool where he might wish he was fucking the blond.

It's that kind of thinking that can buzzkill a fantasy.  So Gina pretends the girl isn’t there—tries to pretend.

Another five minutes pass.  The blond keeps keypadding.

Even shaded from the sun, Gina begins to feel warm and is considering texting Tracy to make sure she’s still coming when her former neighbor enters the pool area through the side gate.

Tracy smiles and waves.  She wears a tank top and tight jeans with sandals.  Hip sunglasses.  Her small breasts are snugged in a basic bra, nothing uplifting like last week.  Her hair is no longer spa-blown-out, but parted to the side, a little natural wave but mostly hanging straight to her bare shoulders.  Springtime mom wear.

Gina is dressed the same way.  T-shirt, jeans, flats.  But underneath, the bra and panties are new and lace.  None of which she plans to keep on very long once she’s back upstairs, where she showered before coming out to the pool.

“You smell good,” Tracy says, settling into the only other chair at the table, which Gina pre-positioned alongside her.  Tracy’s in a happy mood, as if still apologizing for last week, even though she and Gina have talked about that, Gina telling her it’s fine, she’s over how Tracy knew all along about Gina’s plans to fuck her husband.

The blond across the pool—the only other person on the deck with them—tests Tracy’s upbeat mood when Tracy notices her—how could she not?—and asks Gina, “Remember that age?”  As if it was a century ago.

Gina doesn’t want to talk about that.  What good could come of it?  When was the last time nostalgia made someone wet?

“So here’s the idea…” Gina gets right to the point.  She sits forward on the web-strap chair, forearms on the table.

“Yeah … okay…”  Tracy leans in, eager to learn whatever Gina has in mind, which she’s tried to get Gina to divulge the couple times they’ve talked since last week, but Gina has said no more than this is just something she’s been thinking about and maybe could be fun.

Gina touches Tracy’s forearm, the way Tracy touched her last week, and asks Tracy, “Will you come upstairs with me?”

Tracy holds her smile but blinks a couple times, asks, “Upstairs?” as if compelled to say something, because today she’s the one who’s surprised, even though she never asked Gina why she wanted to meet at a hotel.  Maybe Tracy had her own fantasy.  Or took Gina literally when she said she just wanted to “talk” about something.  And “upstairs” probably now registers as more than talk.  “What’s upstairs?”  Tracy’s not saying no, but…

“It’s okay not to…” Gina keeps her hand on Tracy’s arm.

Tracy smiles.  “Is this happening today?  Now?”

Gina nods.

Tracy intrigued, considers this … then:  “Okay… Fuck… Why not?  Yeah … I’ll go upstairs.  Let’s see what you’ve got going?”

The two women stand from the table, ducking out from beneath the umbrella.

As they head into the hotel, the young blond across the pool looks up from her iPad, watches them, and wonders … what?

Crossing the lobby, a water feature trickling, calming lounge music playing, Tracy, alongside Gina, asks, “Am I getting a hint?”

Gina shakes her head.

“Okay…” Tracy doesn’t mind the suspense.

They get into the elevator.

When Gina pushes the button, Tracy says, “Top floor,” as if that somehow indicates what’s going to happen next.

Gina says nothing until the doors slide open.  Before exiting into the quiet hallway, she tells Tracy, “Say no and it all stops.”

Tracy nods.  “Okay.”  And repeats, “Okay.”

Gina leads the way to the end of the carpeted hall, where she takes the keycard from the side pocket of her handbag.  She taps the lock and opens the door.

The room is dark and cool with the AC on and the curtains closed.  And seems even darker once the door closes behind them.

Gina crosses the room and sets her bag on the plain desk, which she leans against, hands gripping the edge.  She faces Tracy, who has stopped at the foot of the king bed and begins to cross her arms, then doesn’t, as though conscious that posture could seem defensive.

Gina senses her friend’s hesitation.  And why wouldn’t she feel that way?  To say this is an unusual situation would be an understatement.  But Gina lets the silence linger.

Tracy notices the interior door which leads to the adjacent room is open.  The curtains next door are also closed.  The lights are off.  In both rooms, a soft duvet lays flat atop the bed.

Gina imagines Tracy’s mind is spinning through a litany of scenarios.  She takes it as a positive sign her former neighbor doesn’t say, I’m out of here, and leave.  What Tracy does instead is lightly bite her lower lip, take a breath, and ask, “Okay…?”  A question she follows with a quick, nervous chuckle, that sound no sooner evaporated than Tracy says, “Okay, you got me.  What’s going on here?”

Last week, Tracy was in control.  Now, it’s the other way around.

Gina remains at the desk, eyes growing accustomed to the low light.  She reads the digital clock on the nightstand.  “In about twenty minutes … but probably sooner … a guy is going to knock on the door over there.”  Gina nods toward the open doorway that connects the two separate rooms.  “And I’m going to let him in.  And I’m going to fuck him.”

“Okay.  Nice…”  But Tracy realizes there’s going to be more to it than that.

“And you…”

As Gina pauses, Tracy makes a quiet gasp, waiting.

“…you are going to stay in here … and listen … to every moan … and dirty word … and groan … and you have to stay quiet … and I’m going to close the door over on that side and lock it … and you can’t knock and ask to come over … or tell us to be quiet … or do anything else … no matter how much you might want to.  And to make sure you don’t…”  Gina reaches into her bag and pulls out something Tracy can’t see exactly until Gina begins to unspool it and tells Tracy: “…I’m going to tie you to this chair.”  Gina nudges the desk chair with the toe of her shoe.  “And I’ve also got this.”  She takes another object from her bag and approaches Tracy so she can see it.  “But promise you’ll be quiet, and I won’t use it.”

  Tracy’s breathing becomes rapid.  Because what Gina holds in her hand, although Tracy has never used one, she recognizes is a ball gag.  A round rubber shape with breathing holes designed to be placed in the mouth, connected to straps that secure around the back of a head, which will keep someone from talking, but not making noise.

Tracy still has not made a move to leave, which Gina finds very exciting.  She has never, never done anything like this.  Seen a few videos.  Thought about it.  But never done it.

When she bought the ball gag online, it made her wet.  When it was delivered, she locked herself in her bedroom where she opened the box and pushed aside the little air bags, and the warm rubber felt sexy and raw in her fingers.  She put the device in her own mouth and looked at herself in the mirror, and the image was so kinky she yanked the gag out, put it back in the box, and had all intentions of throwing it in a dumpster, but didn’t.

Tracy whispers, “I won’t make any noise.”  But doesn’t say anything about not being tied to the chair.

“You sure?” Gina asks.  She lightly touches the rubber ball to Tracy’s lips, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.  “Because the guy coming here to fuck me … is Keith.”

“Oh, fuck.”  Tracy suddenly goes weak and feels for the bed, sits on the edge of it.

Gina wondered whether Keith would stay true to his word and not tell Tracy about their plans to hook-up, and Tracy’s reaction seems to have confirmed that.  But Gina worries perhaps she’s taken this too far.  Crossed a boundary.  And she’s conflicted.  Push forward or pull back.

Then Tracy sighs, “This is so fucking hot.  I want to see it.  I want to watch him fuck you.”

“No, no, no-no-no.  This is our secret.  Yours and mine.  Keith doesn’t know you’re going to be here.  The door’s going to be closed.  You can’t watch.”

“I want to see him on you.  I want to see his dick go in you.”

“Unh-unh.”  Gina straddles Tracy and begins to draw out lengths of the soft black cord, looping it around Tracy’s right wrist, her friend compliant as Gina tugs her arms behind her back and bands her wrists together, which tells Gina that Tracy has been tied up before.  Then again, so has she.  Always in safe situations, though, tame in the scheme of things.  But never with another woman.  Which Gina doesn’t know why turns her on in this situation, only that it does.

Tracy sighs, “I want to watch.  I want to see it.”

“This is our secret.”  Gina tightens the knot around Tracy’s wrists, tests it.  “You being here.  And what’s going to happen over there … that’s Keiths and my secret.  At least he thinks it is.  You can’t spoil that.  Okay?”

Tracy wriggles her arms, the rope doing its job, but not too tightly.

“Let’s go to the chair,” Gina instructs.

“Let me stay on the bed.”

“Do I need to tie your ankles together?  Keep you from walking over and knocking on the door.”

“No.”

“Do I need to use the gag?”

Tracy shakes her head.  “This is so nasty.  So nasty.”  As if she can’t believe it herself.  But says nothing about stopping.

“Our secret,” Gina affirms.

Tracy nods.

Gina says, “I’m going over now … and I’m going to close the door … and lock it … and I’m going to wait for Keith.  And I’m going to fuck him.”

“Yeah … yeah-yeah-yeah.  Fuck him.  Fuck Keith.  And suck his cock.  And fuck him.  Suck him and fuck him.”

As Gina retreats to the room next door, she feels Tracy’s eyes follow her.  She looks back at Tracy sitting on the end of the bed in her tank top, hands tied behind her.  Gina pulls off her t-shirt and tosses it aside.  Steps out of her flats and wriggles down her jeans.  Undressing as if Tracy isn’t watching, although she is.  Down to her new bra and panties, Gina slowly closes the door, bolts it, and waits for Keith.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

A soft knock on the door from the hall, and Gina pads across the carpet, checks the peephole.  She stands partially behind the door as she opens it, revealing a bare shoulder and black bra strap.

Keith, smiling, at ease, comes inside.  He likes how Gina is already down to her underwear.  “Sweet,” he says, taking her into his arms and kissing her.  “You are incredibly hot.”  His body radiates warmth as his tongue enters her mouth.  His hands waste little time, slipping down the back of her panties to bring her against him, where his cock is as Gina imagined it would be.

She says, “You’re so hard,” loudly enough for Tracy to hear in the room next door.  “Feel how hard.”  She rubs a hand over the front of his trousers.

Keith wears dress pants and a starched button-down shirt—work wear for the engineering firm he left when they moved to San Diego and where he was re-hired with the promotion that’s brought their family back to Austin.  He’s a couple inches shorter than Dean, Gina’s husband, but broader, thicker—side to side and front to back—and has the beginning of an expanding waist—firm, though.  “Dad body” Gina’s heard it called now.  He’s solid from time spent in the gym, with arms Gina feels like could lift her up and carry her to the bed.

She says, “I’m so ready,” and begins to unbuckle his pants.

“Go for it.”  He takes bra straps down Gina’s shoulders and lowers the soft cups.  “Look at these sweet tits.  Hard nipples.”  He begins to suck them, bending forward, which interrupts Gina’s undoing of his belt.

She exhales through pursed lips and finds herself thinking back to a night in her car, a couple years after she and Dean were married, some guy Gina barely knew had his hands and mouth on her tits, fingers between her legs, but her pants never came off before he made her come twice and then she sucked him off, and that was that.

This feels good.  New.  Fresh.  Exciting.

Keith keeps sucking her nipples and slides a hand around the front of her panties.  They haven’t gotten as far as the bed when his fingers press along her folds.  “You are so wet.  My God, you are wet.”  He pushes her panties down and Gina steps out of them, leaves them on the floor.  He moans urgently, “I’ve got to have this.”  And eases her to the bed, where she settles onto her back, her legs over the edge of the mattress as Keith urges her knees apart and goes down on her.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gina cries.  His tongue goes directly to her clit.  “Right there.  Right there.  Oh, you’ve got it, you’ve got it.  Right there—right there.”  Her every word is loud enough for Tracy to hear through the door—Tracy with her hands tied behind her back.  Gina can’t decide which turns her on more: Keith’s mouth or that his wife’s in the next room, listening.

She writhes and cries out, “Oh, this is good.  This is so good.”  Words as much for Tracy’s benefit as Keith.

He keeps his tongue going—slow, steady, firm.  Pressure that easily spreads her folds and thrills her clit.  His strong hands hold her hips.

Gina takes deep breaths.  “You’re going to make me come.  Oh, yeah, I’m going to come.  Keep that up.  Just like that.  Like that.”  She gets louder than she intended because it’s that good.  And because she’s not home, and instead of having to keep quiet so her kids or the dogs don’t hear, there’s just Tracy next door, and maybe a maid somewhere out in the hall.  “Oh, fuck-fuck-fuck.  Yes.  Yesss!”  She throws her head to the side, lets the ecstasy roll through her.

There’s an extra jolt of pleasure as Keith’s tongue comes off her that causes Gina to shudder.  Her eyes are open, a little unfocused, but in the darkened room, she watches Keith stand at the foot of the bed, peel off his shirt, undo his pants.  Cock out.  Oh, yeah.  Cock out.  Hard dick.  He prepares to settle on top of her, only Gina has a different idea.

“Over here,” she gasps.  Her balance a little wobbly, legs weak, she makes her way to the closed door that, if opened, would reveal Keith’s wife with her wrists tied behind her back.  Gina, her bra still fastened but the shoulder straps down, tits exposed, puts her palms flat against the door at shoulder height and leans into it, sticks her ass out, moves her legs apart.  To be fucked standing up from behind.

She glances back at Keith.  “Right here.  Do me right here.  Fuck me against the wall.”

He's only too pleased to comply, taking hold of her hips as Gina hangs her head forward, hair falling around her face.

Feeling his stiff cock getting into position between her legs, she tilts farther forward and inches apart her feet, sticks out her ass.  As soon as his cockhead enters her, Gina pounds the door with her palms and inhales sharply, then gasps: “Fuck, yes, yes, yes.  In me!  In me!”  Rising up on her toes as his cock goes all the way in.

“You are so wet,” Keith groans and Gina can hear the smile on his face.  “Feel this.  Yeah, like that.  Keep it tight.  Give me a little squeeze.”

 Gina pounds the door again.  Keith isn’t holding anything back.  He’s got a grip of her hips and is pumping cock.

Dean does not fuck her like this.  No one has fucked her like this.  She rises up on her toes with each forward thrust of his cock.  Tenses her legs.  Angles her head back.  “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

“You okay?” he moans, but doesn’t slow down.  He keeps one hand on her hip but slides the other up to a tit, grabbing firmly, catching her nipple between his fingers.

“Yeah,” she gasps.  “Yeah.  Don’t stop.  Like that.  Fuck me as hard as you want.  Fuck me hard!”  Hearing those words, Gina feels another climax coming.  Starting as a taut spark—the slick friction of cock over clit, which isn’t usually that strong being fucked from behind, so maybe it’s the extra thickness of Keith’s cock.  Whatever it is, it’s fucking good.  It’s really fucking good.  “I’m going to come,” she moans as if she can’t help it.  “I’m going to come again.”  Her voice raises in pitch.  “I’m going to come, I’m going to come.  I’m going to come!”  Gina lets out a sound she doesn’t recognize—a quick pleasure scream.  And her climax erupts.  A wild flare that feels like she’s exploding and keeps going off until she can’t stand up another second.

Her hands slide down the wall as her legs give out.  Keith regrips her hips, keeps his cock in her as Gina goes down to all fours.

Dizzy from her climax, Gina blinks her eyes and realizes Keith hasn’t come yet.  Her orgasm was so intense she can’t imagine he didn’t come with her.  But his cock is still big.  Still hard.  Still fucking.  “Oh, God.  God, God!” Gina moans.

“Hang in there,” Keith urges.

Remembering Tracy on the other side of the door, Gina cries out, “On my hands and knees!  Fuck me on my hands and knees.”  Giving Tracy the image of that, which is so hot she no longer cares why it turns her on.  It just feels so crazy good.

“I’m almost there,” Keith moans.

“You’re wearing me out.  You’re wearing my pussy out!”  She has never said those words before and holds on.  Hard dick going in and out.  In and out. 

Keith groans louder.  “Little more.”  He keeps pumping.  “Little more.  Wear that pussy out.”  Echoing her words as though he likes the sound of that.

“Oh, fuck!” Gina cries.  She can’t take much more, but no way she wants him to stop.  But has to tell him, “I’m done.  I’m worn out.”

“Yeah!” He grips her hips hard, gives one more push into her pussy, which jolts Gina’s body forward, and then she feels the climax pulse out of him, his entire body stiffening as he comes inside her, thrusting back and forth until his cock’s spent and he pulls out, lets go of her hips.

Released by his cock, Gina crawls urgently toward the bed, flops face down on the duvet, taking deep breaths as her head spins and she wonders how many hours it’s going to be before she can stand.

She looks at Keith on his knees, just enough light coming into the room that Gina can see his cock hanging long and spent and shiny from her pussy.

He smiles at her.  Says, “Well that was fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Yeah.  Yeah.”  Her head whirls.  “Just don’t tell Tracy?  Right?  Or Dean?”

He comes over to bed and traces her shoulders with his fingertips, a very gently caress for someone who was just pounding her with his cock.  “We need to do this again.  Soon.”

“Yeah,” she nods, “we’ll do this again.”  She is already thinking about getting his cock in her mouth—what the size of that will feel like.  And is also thinking about Tracy in the next room, and how to make this all play out.  Because when she got this idea, she saw it as a one-time thing.  But no way one time is enough.

She checks the clock.  Tells Keith, “I’ve got to get home.”  She’s also got to go next door and untie Tracy.  But doesn’t tell Keith that.

He gets in his clothes as Gina does a quick clean-up in the bathroom.  She’s still naked when he’s ready to leave.  He puts a hand behind her head, fingers in her hair, and kisses her goodbye.  Whispers to her, “Soon, right?”

“Mm-hm.”  Gina couldn’t feel more comfortable being naked with him.  This is all a surprise to her.  Her life was just turning pages, days at a time.  The routine.  Kids.  House.  Husband.  Work.  Repeat.  Then a conversation at a neighborhood party with an old friend.  And now this.

Keith leaves and Gina gets dressed.  She opens the door to the room next door.

Tracy … is gone.  So is the rope Gina used to tie Tracy’s wrists.  And so is the ball gag.

I hope you liked this story. Chapter 3, which is the last chapter in this novella, is the next post. More stories are coming soon, generally one or two per month. If you subscribe to this blog (it’s free), you’ll get an email as soon as new stories are released. If you’re interested in my other books, SEX SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE, a collection of stories and novellas, is available at Amazon.