May the best man win-part2- M/F adultery, penis size

I imagined a session:

My wife ringing the door bell of his apartment. Eric opening the door,
seeing her there, wrapped in her coat, her pale face flushed by the cold.
Taking her bag and coat, examining what she was wearing (maybe it was last
Saturday afternoon, when she said she was going to the library, and didn t
get back till late; what was she wearing then- probably a peasant blouse-
yes, I remembered, a patterned peasant blouse, and her long skirt- the
thin one through which, if you were walking behind her, you could see her
shifting buttocks quiver). He would joke a bit to get her at ease, and
then pretend to be serious about the technical and artistic side of the
class, explaining to her the weeks lesson, asking if she had questions.
But at the same time, working at his real priority: filling and refilling
her glass with red wine, brushing against her arm when he pointed to his
notes, or better yet, placing his notes on his leg so that, if she pointed
at a section, her finger would be pointing right at his you know what- he
must have loved it when she blushed. Then picking up the camera and
quickly snapping some shots of her, still shy, brushing her hair back from
her face. Telling her  you re so beautiful- lets go back to my bedroom
where the lighting is set up...  Where he would be the one pushing her
hair into place, guiding her face and neck into position, hands lingering
on her shoulders and waist. Would he dare in the first session to suggest
she go topless? Would my wife, with a serious look on her face, pull off
her blouse and unhook her bra and let her big ones swing free for him to..

I stopped myself from torturing myself anymore. I didn t know for sure she
was getting photographed by him. And if she was, it was probably very
professional- all this wine
and touching crap was nonsense. Kate wasn t the type of woman who was into
this third rate romance novel type scene.

Katherine came in about a half hour later. She smiled at me but didn t
approach where I was sitting in the living room, instead walking back to
our bedroom. I waited a minute then joined her. She was leaning into her
closet, her empty bag at her feet. I noticed that her hair looked wet. I
sat on the bed and asked  Darling, are you helping Eric Stern with his
photography?  She looked at me and said  why do you ask? 
 I don t know, I just noticed that his class required a model and
remembered that you had been with him when he registered and wondered if
he had asked you to model for him.. 
 Well as a matter of fact, yes,  she said hurriedly,  except its too
narrow to call me a model; basically, the way I see it, I get the
oppurtunity to take a photography class without having to pay or go to all
the lectures. In fact, I was just over at Eric s and he showed me about
focus and  lighting black and white and.. 
 Why didn t you tell me? 
 because I knew you d be this way- like I was just a model. You don t
respect my abilities sometimes. 
 Kate, I wouldn t have minded; its just a surprise that you would want to
spend time with Eric. 
 Why 
 Come on, Katie, He s a creep. You said yourself he s practically a dirty
old man. You don t mind him hanging all around you with a camera?.. 
 See. There you go. I already said we spend most of the time on technical
aspects. When we do take pictures, I take turns with him sitting or
shooting. And they re not dirty; It s almost all different angles of face
portraits, looking at lighting and shadow. Eric s not dirty either, he s
surprisingly artistic. Its true that he s old fashioned and a bit sexist,
but if I want to teach and change people s minds, I need to deal with
people with the wrong attitudes. He s not the problem; you are the
problem. You don t trust me and you don t want me to have a life outside
our marriage. Well I don t need you to protect me from Eric or anyone else
looking at me, for God s sake, or taking a few pictures. 

She was really mad, and it took me few minutes to calm her down, to
convince her that I didn t mind, that it was good she had an interest in
photography. and that I looked forward to seeing some photos eventually,
because we didn t have enough good recent pictures of her. She said- now
very calmly-  Good, because, like I said, traditional head shots are all
that we ve gotten to. And I apologize for not mentioning this to you.
Tomorrow the class is going for a field trip to the mountains for some
outdoor portraiture. I don t usually go to the group meetings, but I told
Eric I would go. We re driving down in the morning and will be gone most
of the day. Just so you know. 

The next morning my wife woke up when it was still dark, showered, and
packed a bag. She went out of the room, and a few minutes later I heard a
car pull up. I got out of bed and peered out between the curtains. It was
Stern s sports car. Katherine opened the passenger door and climbed in.
The car pulled away. I couldn t sleep, and got up and shaved and ate
breakfast. My jealousy, that I had shelved since last evening, was eating
at me. I needed to do something. I considered snooping in Kate s closet to
see what clothes she had taken- but they were going outdoors, and she
wouldn t be dragging around bikinis for a winter shoot.

I noticed that Katherine had left her ordinary backpack in favor of a
duffel bag, and decided to go through it. Maybe Eric had already developed
some of the famous facial portraits, and she had some, or maybe his
lecture notes so I could know when the class was moving to full body
photography. There wasn t anything photography related, though... except.
Katherine had left her keys, and there was a strange key on the chain,
with a plastic cover that read  the Warwick.  The Warwick was Eric Stern s
apartment building, a high-rise downtown. Why did she have the key. They
hadn t known one another long enough for her to be his full-fledged
mistress, that was my first thought. But I decided that it was probably
for her to use on the elevator (I d been to a party at Stern s and
remembered you usually had to call up and wait). I wondered if it also
worked on his door. In the mood I was in, I had to do something and
decided I would find out.

An hour later I was at the Warwick. Some people were going into the lobby.
I followed them closely in, passed the doorman in the lobby, and got in
the elevator with them. They exited on the 6th floor. Stern lived on the
8th. There was no one on his hall, so I walked down to his door and tried
the key. It fit. I was scared but on an adrenaline high, and was careful
to quietly shut the door behind me and walk carefully. I quickly looked
around his livingroom and den. A briefcase was lying on a coffeetable,
open. There was a folder inside labeled Photo 304, but all that was in it
was a registration form and some handouts. 

I hoped he hadn t taken everything. Probably took his camera, of course. I
was now down the hall and looking into his bedroom. There was a
professional looking lighting system on a stand, and one of those umbrella
like reflectors. They were pushed near the side of his large bed. On top
of the bed was a shoebox. Written on a strip of tape on the lid was  photo
304: non-portfolio extras: Katherine Ashby  (that s our last name). Inside
the box were two 8 by 11 manila envelopes, each labeled with a date (the
previous Saturday and that Friday). There were also receipts to a 24 hour
photo processor. 

I carefully opened the folder from last Saturday- the  first session  that
I had imagined. There were about 30 or 40 5 by 7 pictures inside- probably
one roll worth. In some sort of mascicistic discipline, I gathered them on
the bed, face down in a pile, and went through them in sequence. The first
few pictures were pictures of my wife s face; she was smiling and looking
at the camera and was evidently sitting on the bed; the background matched
his wallpaper here, then a few side views. Katherine had evidently taken
over next, there were several shots of Eric grinning. Behind him in the
pictures were the lighting set up, so she must have still been sitting on
the bed, with him standing.

Kate was back as the model in the next three pictures. She was standing
up, her back to the full length mirror that lined the inside of the
bedroom door. In the first of these her arms were at her sides, then on
her hips, in the last she was holding her hair piled above her head, and
laughing or smiling unusually wide. The next shot was of Kate
photographing; she must have snapped herself in the mirror. Then there was
another mirror shot, but with Eric standing next to my wife; it was from
closer, only capturing them from the waist up. He was looking at her with
a quizzical smile on his face.

In the next picture, he must have been standing behind her; you could only
see his two arms angling out from behind her like she was a four-armed
statue. I laughed nervously; it was a clever effect. As was the next one,
where his head was leaning on her shoulder from behind, his body still
hidden. This picture was blurry, like she had been laughing and the camera
had shook. The next picture was also blurry. It was angled down so you
could only see Kate from the chin down. Eric s head and hands were gone. 

Then- and my hand and heart froze- in the next picture, Eric was partially
back in the mirrored scene. His left arm was around my wife s waist, and
in his right hand he was holding Kate s white bra. He had manuevered his
hands up the back of her shirt and unhooked her, and she had stood there
laughing and taking a picture. The picture captured his grin as he held
the bra up by its strap like it was the holy grail. There was a break away
from reflected pictures; the next in sequence was- it wa hard to make out
but seemed to be the top of Eric s head, and below it, one of my wife s
feet. She had apparently lifted in and he was kneeling to take off her
shoe. No. wait- he was grasping something white down by her shoe. The
subsequent phot made it clear that Eric had kneeled down in front of my
wife in order to reach up her skirt and pull down her panties. Kate had
lifted her feet to let him extricate them from off her ankles. Now he had
her bra in one hand and her panties in the other- a fast mover, that s for
sure.

They must have set up the camera on a tripod, and set some kind of repeat
timer mode, because the rest of the pictures in the pile were from the
same distance and angle, and showed Kate and Eric together on the bed.
They were both nude. In the first of these shots, they were sitting facing
one another (the camera had captured a side view) their legs extended,
bent so each of their knees were even with the other s waist. Kate s legs
were over Eric s. Kate was leaning back and had her neck and head bent
back. Eric was hunched towards her and was holding one of her big tits in
each of his hands, supporting them in his palms as if he were weighing
them. Even from the pictures you could tell her nipples were swollen and
protruding. The next picture showed Eric sucking (or biting) on Katherine
s right breast. Her head was still thrown back, and her lips parted
slightly. 

The next picture was a blur of unidentifiable limbs and sheets, but in the
next shot you could see that Katherine and Eric had shifted positions.
They were lying next to each other, their heads back away from the camera
and slightly elevated against the wall. Their faces were pressed together
and their mouths were locked in a kiss. Their lower torsos faced the
camera lens, their legs were spread. Kate s arm reached between Eric s
legs and vice versa. My wife had a grip on Eric s huge semi-firm cock, and
from the angle of her arm, seemed to be pulling on it to try and stretch
it even longer. Eric s pointer and middle finger were rubbing Kate s hairy
pussy lips. The next photo was more of the same. They were still kissing. 
Eric s big dick was now burstingly erect, and my wife had moved her hand
to cup his fat balls. Meanwhile. Eric s fingers had disappeared, down past
the knuckles, into Katherine s pussy hole; his thumb was bent down between
her buns and looked to be working its way into her anus. 

The next picture had gone off just before Eric penetrated my wife. He had
climbed on top of her  and her long legs were hooked over his shoulders.
Eric was reaching beneath his belly to grasp his long (it must have been 9
or 10 inches) cock and guide it towards Katherine s swollen cunt; she was
holding her pussy  lips apart with her right hand- her left arm was
clutching his waist. And her pretty face was peering over his shoulder, a
look of anticipation- so it seemed- in her shining eyes. 

The remainder of the pictures showed Eric fucking- riding, pounding, (take
your pick)- my beautiful young wife. They are all appropriate
descriptions. Riding, because of their size differential. he didn t cover
her enough to hide her voluptuous body. So it made me think of an
experienced jockey using the strenght of his small frame and his big cock
to tame a bucking young filly. Pounding, because the camera captured some
of the energy of their coupling- in the straining muscles in his back and
her  arms and the wild blank stare in Kate s eyes and the way Eric s
thrusts pushed her ass down into the cushion then bounced it off the bed.

The film must have expired before Eric finished with Katherine, because
there were no pictures of post-coital cuddling, or Kate dressing to leave,
or kissing good bye. Maybe because they were already anticipating the next
week s session, and the rest of the semester. I didn t even open the next
week s envelope. I had seen enough, gotten what I come for (gotten what I
had coming to me). I just wanted to replace the evidence, sneak out, and
go home to think about what I had feared and now knew was true.

I didn t know what I would do. What would you do if you found out your
wife was letting another man pleasure her?


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