This Can't Be Happening

THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING By WaywardOne 'The one absolutely surefire way, ' I think, 'to drive my wife into a sexual frenzy would be to: a) take her out in a rowboat at night; b) start exploring her body and kissing her; c) suck her tits and play with her pussy; d) fuck like crazy.' This keeps going through my head as I stand on the shore watching my boss push away from the dock and start rowing. His nearly naked body moves smoothly back and forth as he pulls on the oars. His legs are spread wide and, yes, there is my wife between his legs, sitting so close her ass must be touching his crotch. As the boat pulls out of the pool of light cast by the single bulb on the dock I can see her hands gliding up and down his bare thighs. Now I can just make out the outline of the boat. And now it has been completely swallowed up by the night. All that is left is the splash of the oars entering the water and the squeak of wood on metal as he continues rowing. It's amazing how the sound carries across the water through the night. As the boat moves farther out into the lake the sound almost makes it seem that they are still right there, just outside the circle of light cast from the dock. 'How can this be happening to me?' I anguish. Only this morning I loved my wife and she loved me. Now she has gone with him, and I don't know if I'll ever get her back. The knot in the pit of my stomach swells up my throat, and I am aching with the need to cry. I listen once again for the sound of the oars. So long as he is rowing he can't be touching her, and they won't be kissing. Yes, the sound is still there, but I know with a sense of dread that it will surely stop. There ... it stops quite suddenly. Not as if they were too far away to be heard, but as if, and only as if, he had stopped rowing. I know without a doubt what that means. He is running his hands up and down my love's back and sides, echoing the way she has been rubbing her hands on his thighs. Why had she been taunting him so? She must have known it would drive him insane. How could I have let this happen? Indeed, how could I have been so stupid as to have triggered it myself? My first mistake was in even accepting his invitation to come up here to his cabin for the weekend. And then the idiotic thing I did tonight, which seemed so innocent at the time. We were playing Hearts, the three of us, and I won. The house rules for the evening were that the winner of one game picked the next one. I was having trouble coming up with anything, and finally just blurted out "poker". But back to the boat. Still no sound from out there in the water. By now he must be kissing the back of her neck, and rubbing his hands over her belly. Feelings of desire must already be flooding through her, and I imagine her clutching his thighs convulsively while pressing her back against his chest. She has no objection as he moves his hands up to explore the front of her tube top. She might even be whispering, 'Yes George, yes.' George had found a box of poker chips, and we had agreed we would start with 50 points each and play until someone ran out. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No one breathed a word about strip poker, though looking back I'll bet George was thinking about it. I know it crossed my mind briefly. I wonder, could the thought also have come into my wife's mind? Yet there was no sign of danger, none at all until that last hand. Oh, how I wish I could hear something out there! What are they doing? No, I don't need to ask that; I know what they are doing. My honey's head has started swiveling back and forth with the intensity of her feelings. Now she has turned it to the side and is rubbing her cheek against his lips. A low breathy moan escapes her lips as he slides his hands inside her tube top. She twists sideways in the boat so she can kiss him full on the mouth. Soon their tongues are making love, stroking each other and pumping into each other's mouths. His hands are driving her wild as he plays with her nipples. She yanks her tube top up under her armpits, exposing her breasts to him. She was almost out of chips, but she started bidding wildly. I dropped out, but George kept raising. Finally he topped the last three red chips she had in front of her, and she wailed: "NO! You can't do this to me. This is the best hand I have ever had! Take back one of your chips so I can match you, please!" But he shook his head. Speaking of head, you don't suppose? No, they wouldn't have gotten that far yet, but I'm sure he is sucking the tits she exposed to him, just as I am sure she wanted him to. And he has snaked his hand down over her belly and onto her shorts. He's probably rubbing her sopping wet pussy through her shorts. And if so, she's undoubtedly matching his actions with her hand on his trunks. Just feeling his throbbing cock through his swim suit has her shivering and feeling little jolts of electricity radiating from her pussy, not to mention what his hand is doing as it presses her hottest of all hot spots. That obviously isn't enough for either of them, and when he slides his fingers inside her clothes her pelvis starts jerking back and forth and her breath is coming in snorts. He probably had the whole thing planned from the beginning. In fact, he was the one who dealt that hand -- he had to have cheated. After he shook his head 'no' to her plea he let her stew for a while, but finally smiled and said, "OK, I'll do it on one condition. But first, tell me, you really do believe you have a better hand than I do, don't you?" She had nodded and said, "I know I do." "All right, then, here's the deal. If your hand beats mine I'll give you all my chips and we'll declare you the poker winner for the night. But if I have the better hand I get to take you out in the boat, just the two of us." My heart had sunk. "No, honey, don't do it!" But she had just smiled, "Don't worry, I can't lose." It sure looked that way when she put down her hand -- a queen-high flush in hearts. But then he put down his five cards, all spades, and the top one the ace. So has he 'aced' her out there yet? I don't think so, not quite yet, but I'll bet he has slipped her shorts and panties off her butt. I can just see her wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself up to make it easier for him to do that while she crams his face against her hot tits. I know all too well how hot she gets when I suck her tits. With her clothes out of the way he now can get two fingers up her steamy hole while he rubs her clit with his thumb. She's already coming, clawing at his back. Now he yanks her clothes down past one knee, and she pulls her leg out then swings around and straddles him. She's rubbing her slimy cunt up and down the bulge in his trunks, leaving a wet glistening trail an inch wide and six inches long. They're both dying to do it now, and he yanks his suit down exposing his huge jerking shaft. She grabs it, positions the head, and sinks down... What was that? I heard a yelp! That was her voice; I'm sure if it. Oh, my god, they really are doing it. He must be balls deep inside her. Now they're pounding against each other, and ... oh, no! I can hear her, I really can. She's wailing, that's what it is. It's all over; I've lost her, probably forever. I know George's cock is bigger than mine. I've seen it, and I know how it must be thrilling her at this moment. I know how forceful he can be and how much his lovers have adored him. I know he can buy her the things she loves and I can't afford. I know she'll never want to come back to me after this. The wailing rises to a scream, and then silence. I'm totally stunned, unable to move. "Why are you just standing there?" the voice behind me asks. No, it can't be! It's her voice, but she's out there with George, sharing a blissful post-coital kiss. "Aren't you even going to turn around?" I turn, and there she is, properly attired and grinning at me. Two paces behind her I see George, head thrown back in a silent laugh. "I do believe we really did it," he guffaws. "Tell us the truth, what did you think was going on out there in the water?" "I don't ... but you ... just now ... but I heard you!" I am stumbling all over my words. "Heard us what?" my wife asks sweetly. I turn to her, "You were wailing, I heard you scream, I was sure you had to be..." "No, darling," she reassures me, "George just rowed up along the shore a ways and then pulled in, and we snuck back over here. He thought it would be fun to play a trick on you, and to tell the truth, I was kind of worried about going out there with him, so when he told me what he wanted to do I was so relieved, and I went along with it, and even tried to make you jealous as we left, and I hope you aren't too angry with me, darling." I shake my head, but somehow I can't smile yet. Wait -- there's that sound again. Startled, I look up, "What's that?" "Oh, just a loon," George laughs. Talk about relief! It's amazing what an overactive imagination can do. "So," George adds, walking up to me with his hand outstretched, "is all forgiven?" I smile wanly and start to reach my hand out to his, but then freeze. Reflected in the light from the dock is a wet, glistening, stripe on his trunks, reaching from his crotch to his belly button. 9203 1.33/512345