The Exhibitionist Wife

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LLP-279 The Exhibitionist Wife by Gilda Grayson
Chapter 1
He had thought about it innumerable times in the last several months, trying to figure out what was
happening to him when he was in bed with Evelyn, but short of going to a head-shrinker and laying bare
his whole life, while lying on a couch answering all kinds of personal, penetrating questions, Fred Holden
wasn't able to come up with any substantial answers. Somehow they seemed to evade him, no matter
how hard he concentrated on the problem. It just seemed to happen, and he couldn't do anything about
it. He had tried a lot of different things, but the one thing he did know for sure was that he wasn't really
impotent ... And, as far as going to a head doctor, well forget it. He wasn't about to do that, yet.
Seated in the spare bedroom of their apartment, which Fred used as a study, he was trying to run down
a column of figures on his adding machine. He was moonlighting, which consisted of running monthly
audits for several small, independent businesses, a couple of service stations, a neighborhood grocery
store, a dentist and a pet shop. He worked damned hard at his regular job then spent two or three nights
every week doing more of the same thing for these small outfits.
He made a stupid mistake, transposing some numbers, and he cleared the machine, corrected the error
and leaned back away from his desk in his swivel chair, listening to his portable radio, turned up to
drown out the sounds of the television set in the living room. Evelyn was there listening and watching
while some insipid singer-comedian went through his studiedly relaxed routines. He couldn't stand to
watch that particular program, and he was glad that he could sequester himself in his office on the
evenings when that one was aired. What he would like to do was get a little portable set; then he could
watch what he liked, such as some of the detective series or a talk show or two. There were some other
things he liked to watch, too, but they weren't broadcast on T.V.
Looking at his wristwatch, he saw that it was a little after ten-thirty. It was a little early, but maybe---just
maybe---he'd be in luck tonight. A little smile of anticipation creased his round face, and he heaved his
short, muscular frame out of his soft chair. Going to the south window, he gingerly drew back the
drapes, and being careful to stay well back from the sill his eager eyes sought the window of the
apartment below and slightly to the left. He was looking down directly on the bed, sheets and covers
turned back for occupancy, but he was disappointed. The young couple weren't on the bed, yet.
"Damn!" he growled to himself. He'd have to wait. His eyes shifted to the bathroom window. Sometimes
they were as careless about keeping that window closed as they were the one in the bedroom. Well ...
I'm in luck! The light was on in the bathroom, and the window was open ... but the only way he could
see into his neighbor's bathroom was to be in his. Well, hell ... he'd done that before, too.
In his own bathroom, a second or two later, the door securely locked, Fred stepped into the bathtub,
opened the window and standing on tiptoe looked down into the similar cubicle of the ground-floor
apartment in the next building.
"Christ!" He was disgusted. All he could see was the slimly muscular body of the young husband. The
man was facing him and was just entering the shower, his dark chest hairs contrasting with white skin,
and below, the extreme hairiness of his loins almost obscured the flaccid tube of his penis hanging down
softly against the longer, slightly reddish scrotal sac with its large egg-shaped testicles swinging easily
below.
Fred wasn't interested in watching a naked man take a shower; although he had watched that same man
make love to his wife, and he knew that the guy was virile, potent and had staying power that wouldn't
quit. It was the guy's young wife he wanted to see. Damn! She's a luscious little piece! He wasn't even
sure what her name was, but he thought their last name was Pearson. He was just about ready to step
 back out of the bathtub and go back to work when he saw her.
She drifted into his view shrugging off a light dressing robe. Fred's brown eyes widened, the pupils
flaring as he watched her hang the robe on the door, the soft, round orbs of her beautifully sculpted
buttocks working as she kicked off her mules. God damn! How he'd love to get his hands on her, his
fingers digging into those twin mounds of warm, smooth, alabaster-white flesh. He could almost feel it in
the palms of his hands as he watched; then, she turned and was facing him. Her breasts, full and round,
were placed high and wide-spaced on her chest, the nipples pouting upward and the pink areolas
looked almost like round bullseyes. The rest of her was equally fetching. She had a nice face with regular
features, good, even, white teeth, a sensuous mouth, and she was golden blonde all over. Fred's eyes
zeroed in on the spun-gold mound of pubic hair framed by slightly wide but curvaceous hips, and he felt
his penis, below, inside his pants, come to pulsingly vibrant life. He thrilled as blood pumped into it to be
trapped there, the tumescent rod of his cock throbbing with the urgency of his sexual need. His scrotum
worked, pulling his balls up tight and achingly toward his crotch.
That's what confused him. He could get a hard erection watching his neighbor's wife undress in the
bathroom ... but when he got into bed with Evelyn, his own wife ... Hell! Half the time I can 't even get a
hard-on!
... And, it wasn't that Evelyn was an ugly witch, either. She was every bit as desirable as that sweet,
young thing next door. There was just something that turned him off when he tried to make it with his
wife. It wasn't that she didn't like it. Evelyn was different from a lot of men's wives he knew about: Like
the ones who always had a headache ... or demanded some special favor or gift ... or who cynically,
even perhaps sadistically, limited their husbands sex demands by making themselves sexually
unattractive. He thought about the too-fat wives he knew and the ones with caustic tongues, as well as
the constant-complainers ... But, hell, that's not Evelyn at all. She likes to fuck ... maybe too much!
Actually, Fred Holden was closer to an insight into what was happening between him and Evelyn than
he'd ever be, but unfortunately he didn't recognize it, didn't pursue the idea far enough. In the apartment's
bathroom next door, the lovely, young wife opened the shower door and stepped into it with her
husband. "Damn it!" again. There was nothing to be seen for a while. Turning he stepped out of the
bathtub and flushed the commode; then, he left the room and went back to his desk. The television set in
the living room was still going, and he assumed that Evelyn would be there for another half-hour or more;
of course, she knew better than to disturb him while he was working. He had made that damned clear to
her, several months ago ... right after they were married.
Evelyn was Fred's second wife. The main reason he had taken on these accounting jobs that he did at
home at night was so he could keep up his alimony payments. That God damned shrew is too smart to
get married, again! All she thinks about is money ... and she's getting it! Plenty! Fred felt he had been
taken to the cleaners when he'd been hit with alimony payments of over seven-hundred dollars a month.
It had taken several stormy sessions in Carol's lawyer's office before he had gotten it reduced to a more
comfortable figure, five-hundred and fifty dollars per month. Then, when he'd married Evelyn there just
wasn't enough money to go around, so he was moonlighting. He didn't want to spend his evenings
grubbing for extra money, but there didn't seem to be any other way to meet expenses. The worst part
of it was that prices kept right on going up, the inflation eating away at his salary to the point where he
was thinking of taking on a couple more accounts. Christ! If I have to do that ... pretty soon I'll be
working four or five nights every week!
Glumly, he sat back down at his desk, conscious of his still throbbing erection, straining against the front
of his trousers, his hand going down to caress the turgid length of his cock and smiling with the secret
knowledge that he sure as hell wasn't impotent as Evelyn regularly accused him of being. He toyed with
an idea: What I ought to do is walk in there, turn that damned TV set off, haul her out of her chair, throw
 her down on the living room floor ... and fuck hell out of her ... so she knows she's really been had!
Something kept him from carrying out the idea, though. Maybe it was the memory of how Carol had
rebuffed him so many times, putting him off with vapid excuses ... until one day he'd tried it. He
manhandled her ... forced her---raped her actually---fucking the ass off her, while she fought him like a
wounded tigress. It had been a costly mistake. After a visit to her lawyer the next day, she insisted that
he move out because she was divorcing him.
He sat there at his desk for several minutes, trying to force himself back to the drudgery of those endless
columns of figures, but after a few desultory attempts at reconciling some of the entries, he gave up as a
lost cause. Reaching into his desk drawer he brought forth a small pair of binoculars, rose from his chair
and went to the window, again.
Things were going to start happening down there in his neighbor's bedroom. He saw that the young
husband was stretched out to his full length on the white bedsheets, his cock hardening rapidly. Fred still
couldn't see the man's lovely, blonde wife, yet. She was in another part of the bedroom, hidden from his
view. Now, the husband was reaching down to grasp the shaft of his penis, holding it aloft. His mouth
was moving, but Fred couldn't hear his words; he could only imagine that he was making a lewd
invitation.
She was there, then, crawling up on the bed beside him and rolling over on top of her husband. Fred
saw her white, tapering thighs part then close again, and he knew that she had captured the stiffening
shaft of her husband's prick, holding it tight between her clamped-together thighs.
Using the binocular, he brought the scene into sharp focus, almost as clear and large as though he were
there in the room with them. This's the best damned investment I've ever made! He watched their
mouths meet and meld, and he imagined the sucking, nibbling and the intertwining of tongues in the deep,
open-mouthed kiss; then, as he swept the glasses over the smooth whiteness of her back to the nipped
in waist and the curving flare of her hips, he saw the slight undulations of her buttocks and knew that she
was grinding her warmly moist furrow up and down the length of her husband's massively erect cock.
Below, Fred felt the involuntary lurch of his own aching hard-on, his hand going into a pocket to shift the
shaft of his turgid prick to a more comfortable position, and with gentle fingers he caressed the length of
it, debating with himself whether he should or shouldn't. Several times lately, as he'd watched the
copulating neighbors, he'd masturbated while he watched them. It gave him a measure of satisfaction, but
he didn't really like to do it; it seemed such a waste to him, especially when he could have been getting
all the fucking he could handle with his wife, Evelyn. It's damned strange that I can't get it up with her!
Maybe ... it's because she's so eager for it ... always letting me know that she's hot for it ... and coming
after me! Christ! I don't know ... she's so aggressive sometimes! Again, a truth was dogging him, but
Fred didn't recognize it when he saw it. What he knew for sure was: My cock just lies there limp as hell!
... And, even if I do get it about half hard ... it'll just curl up and die on me!
... And, now as he watched, his own excitement mounting, he saw the young wife slithering down over
her husband's chest, her mouth kissing his flat belly. Lower and lower she moved, until she was kneeling
between his wide-spread legs, her hands busy, one caressing his ball-filled scrotum, while the other held
the thick length of his cock's shaft. Then, her smiling lips were coming down to the throbbing head of it
as her tiny hand retracted the loose folds of the foreskin to reveal the reddish satin of her husband's
cock's head. Damn! She's going to suck him, tonight! Fred's cock jerked involuntarily with erotic
excitement against the confining cloth of his shorts and pants, and his hand went down there again to
soothe and fondle.
He was thinking about Evelyn, again. Maybe it would be a good idea to take his throbbing erection into
the living room ... and make it with her there. Without any rough stuff, though; just a nice, smooth
 seduction with the fucking taking place on the couch or the floor. Any place but the bedroom! ... But, he
couldn't tear himself away from the sex show going on in the apartment below.
The young blonde had her husband's prick in her mouth, now, and Holden let his imagination roam,
trying to envision what it would feel like to have that delicious tongue swirling around the head of his
cock. It was hard to hold the binocular steady with one hand, and he stopped his unconscious stroking
of his own penis, intent upon watching the other man's hard shaft as it was absorbed deeper into his
wife's mouth. With both hands holding the glasses now, he watched the golden blonde head bean to bob
slowly up and down the turgid length of it, the binocular giving him a close-up view of everything that
was happening.
He saw tiny, pink flanges of her inner lips pulled out, glistening with droplets of moisture, on the
upstroke; then, they were stuffed back inside, her lips rolling inward as they nibbled their way back
down to absorb almost all of her man's cock on each downward bob of her head. Her eyes were
closed; her face serene, and the spun-gold of her hair was cascading down over her husband's hairy
thighs. Then he noticed that the young man was flexing his hips, driving his massive cock even deeper up
into his wife's ovalled lips.
... Now, she was taking all of it; her nose was nestling down solidly into the black hairiness of her
husband's groin. Having watched the young couple enough during the last few weeks to know that the
younger man's fully erect prick was something to reckon with, as he'd watched him pull it completely
clear before ramming it back home again into his wife's undulantly receptive cunt, Fred was pretty sure
how much cock she was taking deep into her mouth and throat. Hell's fire! She's got all of it in her mouth
... and that husband of her's is hung with about eight inches of hard cock ... at least!
Fred Holden could barely contain his own mounting excitement, as he watched the young wife from next
door, her head beginning now to move a little faster and her husband's hands groping down to either side
of her head to guide her ovalled, sucking mouth, while at the same time his hips rose and fell in rhythmic
counterpoint, as he thrust upward at her with desperate urgency. Damn! She's going to suck him off ...
all the way!
As he watched the oral-genital act between the young, married couple, the idea began to grow, little by
little, until he knew that he'd have to have that sweet, young thing, next door. Somehow, he would get to
her ... take her to bed, and ... Christ! He could already feel that luscious flesh, her mouth working on
him, his own tongue in that tight, little cunt ... and finally his stiff, throbbing cock plumbing her, her
clinging cuntal sheath slipping along the length of his thick prick. If I work it just right ... God!
Faster and faster her gold-crowned head moved over her husband's loins, her mouth alternately nibbling
and sucking, her cheeks hollowing, her lips stretched in a wide oval around that monster shaft tightening
and relaxing, and Fred knew that in a moment it would be over. Even more fervently he wished that it
could be he, who would be cumming in his neighbor's wife's deliciously sucking mouth.
With a final, upward, ramming thrust of his hips the young husband came. Fred saw him go rigid, and at
the base of the man's hard cock there was a little stretch of it that could be seen clearly through the
glasses. Fascinatedly, he watched as it expanded and contracted rhythmically, pumping his semen
splashingly into his wife's still sucking mouth; then he saw her throat, the muscles working as she
swallowed, and unconsciously, Fred's hand went down to his own pulsing cock, his fingers fumbling with
the zipper tab. In a moment he was hauling his hardened cock out of his fly, his hand gripping it tightly
and moving it, and he was aware that the head of it was moist and hot.
Suddenly, he stopped! Why the hell should I ...? Christ! I've got a hard-on that won't stop! ... So, why
don't I use it the right way? He'd do it! He'd go into the living room ... and fuck his wife, Evelyn. Rip her
 clothes off ... throw her down on the God damned rug ... and fuck her half silly!
Stuffing his turgid, demanding prick back into his pants but not bothering to zip his fly, Fred Holden put
the binocular on the desk as he went by on his way to the living room, thinking: I should've done it
before this ... instead of letting her ridicule me ... accusing me of not being a real man! Impotent? Damn!
Just wait until she sees this!
The living room was empty!
The TV set was still going, but Evelyn was not there!
"Evelyn ...?"
No answer.
Swiftly, Fred Holden searched their apartment. She wasn't in the bedroom or the bath; however, he saw
her purse on the dresser, so he knew that she couldn't have gone far. Just to make sure he went
downstairs and checked the carport. Both their cars were there. Well hey! She must be off visiting
somewhere in the apartments!
Fred was disappointed ... and as he searched for his wife, of course, his erection began to subside, until
in a few moments it was soft again. God damn! What a time for her to be running off somewhere!
He was outside already; the Southern California evening was balmy and pleasant. Aimlessly, he began to
walk among the buildings of the apartment complex, telling himself that he was looking for Evelyn ... but
he found himself looking into windows with open drapes, hoping to see her ... or someone else, like a
shapely housewife, fetchingly naked, dashing across the room, forgetting that her windows were open to
the world.
... And then, he was prowling along between the buildings searching for open windows of bedrooms,
which were situated almost consistently to the rear of the apartments. Christ! he thought once. Am I
turning into a real peeper? The thought caromed around inside his skull. It gave him momentary pause,
as he remembered that there were laws about peeping. It was one thing to watch from the privacy of
his own apartment ... but out there in the dark, prowling around ...? It's too damned risky! They'd put
me in a cell ... or send me to a shrink!
It scared him to think about it, now. Some crazy guy might think I'm a burglar ... or something, and take
a shot at me! He remembered having read of just that happening. It had been in the morning newspaper,
just three days ago. Christ! He began making his way back to his own apartment.
Glancing at his wristwatch, when he gained the safety of their apartment, Fred saw that it was
eleven-fifteen already. He snapped off the blaring TV set and made another hasty search of the rooms.
Evelyn wasn't back yet.
In his office-study, he covered the adding machine and closed the ledger he had been working on, angry
with himself that he hadn't gotten more of the work done. Restlessly, he looked out the window, down
toward that young couple's bedroom, hoping that perhaps they had gone on to other things, after that
luscious, little blonde thing had sucked-off her husband. He'd never know now, because the drapes had
been closed; however, the light was still on. He could see the glow filtering through. "Damn! Just my
luck!" he growled to himself. I suppose I might as well take my shower and get ready to go to bed ...
Out of curiosity, he looked from their bedroom window. He'd never been able to see anything from
there, before, but tonight as he looked down toward the ground floor apartment to the West, he gasped
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