“Paige, babe, I really need to get this done,” I reminded her for the umpteenth time. She stood behind me, slid her hands down my chest, and kissed my neck.
“I know,” she said, “but I’m sooo bored.” What she really meant was that she was sooo horny.
In the three weeks or so since Thanksgiving, when I had first stayed over at Professor Paige Hotchkiss’s house, I found myself spending the night there more and more often. As the semester drew to a close, we had fallen into a pattern: fuck once, on-camera, for the benefit of her husband Mark, currently out of the country on a year-long sabbatical; then make love again, for our own benefit, out of sight of his prying eyes; then curl up together in their big bed and fall asleep. I knew it was unsustainable, and would unquestionably end in hurt feelings and disappointment for one or both of us, but there, in the moment, it felt so right.
Well, maybe not at that exact moment. I was sitting at Paige’s desk, in one of the spare bedrooms in her spacious house, trying to complete a proposal for an undergraduate computer science course I was hoping to teach next fall. It was due the next day, and I was very close to finalizing it. I just needed a solid hour alone. I was frustrated with Paige for interrupting me, but more frustrated with myself. I should have known better than to try to get any work done at her house.
“Paige, why don’t you just go to bed? It’s late. I’ll be over as soon as I’m done here.”
“That bed is too big for little, tiny me . . . all alone. I need someone big and strong to share it with.” She upped the ante by whispering in my ear, then giving my earlobe a nip with her teeth.
We had already done it twice that evening, but Paige was clearly in one of her moods. Mark had told me that she was insatiable, but sometimes her need for sex bordered on the absurd.
“Paige . . . " I began to protest again, but I was cut off by her landing a kiss on my lips, followed by her tongue in my mouth. She came around and planted herself between me and my laptop, straddling my legs. It was then that I finally noticed she had deployed a secret weapon—she had put on the button-down shirt I had discarded earlier in the evening—and my shirt appeared to be the only thing she was wearing.
I had to hand it to her. She knew my weakness, and she was playing to win. There was little I found sexier than a woman in one of my dress shirts, knowing that the volume of fabric was concealing—just barely—all of the parts I loved so well. From the swell of her breasts and the way her waist curved to her hip, to her shapely backside and sweet little pussy, I knew it was all there, just out of sight, and just waiting for me.
“Oh, all right. Come here,” I said, taking her by the waist and pulling her down onto my lap. “But this has to be a quickie.”
She was already way ahead of me. Her hands dove immediately to the fly in my undershorts, dipping in to grab my flaccid cock and turn it into something we could work with. My own hands slid from around her waist to her thighs and around back to give her firm ass a little pinch. As I suspected, she was naked beneath my shirt, and I could feel her, hot and slick, on my thigh. What I couldn’t tell was whether she was wet from her current state of arousal or whether it was left over from our previous adventures. I supposed it didn’t really matter.
Despite the lateness of the hour and our earlier escapades, it didn’t take long for Paige to have me ready to go again. “Score one for being twenty-five,” I thought. She pushed my underwear down and was about to engulf my hastily-prepared prick when I stopped her. The desk chair was on casters, and I had a vision of us careening around the room if I didn’t take action. “Hang on there, cowgirl. Let me lock the wheels on this chair before someone gets hurt.” Paige giggled, but backed off long enough for me to accomplish the task. “Now you can proceed with fucking me,” I told her.
Paige lowered herself onto my erection and gave me a series of little squeezes with her internal muscles. Her talents in this regard never failed to impress, and I was pretty sure I could get off on her very adult massage technique alone, if she would let me. It was clear she wanted more, though, from the way she began to slide up and down on my dick, holding onto my shoulders for better leverage. I pulled my shirt off over her head, and was greeted by her incredible breasts. She arched her back, and I bent to take one of her hardened nipples in my mouth, causing her to moan with pleasure. Suddenly, she leaned forward into me, pressing her hips against my pelvis as her orgasm began to overtake her. Her pussy tightened around my shaft, and she dug her knees into my thighs. Knowing I had pleasured her yet again was enough fuel for my own climax to build, and I took her by the hips, lifting her onto the desk, shoving my laptop out of the way in the process. I drove into her over and over before cumming in several ecstatic bursts.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” Paige said, winking, as we untangled from each other.
“Screw it,” I said, picking her up and carrying her to the bedroom. “It’s going to have to wait until morning.”
We snuggled in together, and I was just about to fall asleep when Paige asked, “Do you ever wonder what we really look like in those videos?”
“What?” I murmured.
“I was just thinking about all of the videos Mark has of us. I mean, he knows what it looks like when we’re doing it, but we have no idea. There must be hours of them at this point.”
Somehow the thought had never actually crossed my mind. When I agreed to this very unique situation, I knew the price of being allowed to screw Paige was Mark getting to watch, either “live,” if he was available, or on “tape delay,” if he wasn’t. My stomach churned as I thought about the possibility that he might not be discarding the footage after watching it, but saving it for who knows what purpose. I knew that he had made porn videos of himself and Paige. I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid to never consider that he might be doing the same with her and me.
Paige had drifted off, but I had a sinking feeling I would never get to sleep that night. What I should have done was get up and finish my course proposal. What I did was get up and try to hack into Mark’s program which controlled the cameras in the bedroom and which presumably housed the videos as well.
In my mind, I had foolishly created a rivalry between me and Mark. I knew he was her husband, but I had come to believe I was her better lover, catering to her “kinks” more gently and respectfully than he ever had. I might never be able to prove myself right in this regard, but I knew one place where I could definitely try to get the better of him. He was a renowned expert on computer security, but how hard could it be to hack him? Maybe he had been careless in setting up his own system. I resolved that night to beat him at his own game.
I took Mark’s laptop downstairs so I wouldn’t disturb Paige. Mark had given me the general password to the computer and access to what I needed to fix minor issues. What I needed to do now was crack the code to the program that allowed Mark to watch me fuck his wife from 6000 miles away. Over the years, I had found that putting myself in the mindset of the creator was most effective tool in hacking anything. So I simply asked myself, “What would an arrogant, pervy asshole do?”
Without going into mind-numbing specifics, suffice it to say that—after a little trial and error—I got there. Once in, I took a moment to play with the cameras. In the dim light of the bedroom, I could barely see Paige. I zoomed in on her sleeping face, beautiful and calm.
Then I steeled myself to see what kind of videos Mark actually had. I really should have thought this whole arrangement through better from the start. The Assistant Dean of my school presumably had multiple videos of me, naked as the day I was born, nailing his wife in various creative ways. I could see myself having to leave school without my PhD, and without any job prospects to speak of.
I took a deep breath, and dove in. To my surprise, he appeared to be making a supercut of our greatest hits. There weren’t multiple videos—just one long one.
I started to watch. My face was obscured, even if my schlong was not. It appeared he wasn’t compiling the video for blackmail purposes, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
But what was there was not definitely not my cup of tea. There was shot after shot of the kinkier things Paige and I did, edited in a disturbing way: Paige bound and penetrated by her sex toys, pussy stretched around them. Paige sucking me off, a velvet cord knotted around her hands and a blindfold over her eyes. Paige tied face-down on the bed, spread eagle, as I pounded her from behind. All of it had been her idea, and I knew that she had loved every minute of it, crying out with ecstasy as she climaxed, usually multiple times. But the video always cut away from the pleasure on her face, reducing her to just a body being used in service to a faceless man.
I crept back upstairs and into bed with Paige, pulling her close. I was so mad at Mark for the video—and at myself for being a participant—that I slept only fitfully.
Unfortunately, I had to leave for my job at the Help Desk before Paige awoke. I was exhausted, and not In the best of moods, but when I arrived, my employee, Prashant, clearly wanted to talk. I had caught him giving oral to Jenny, another Help Desk employee, on the desk in my office the day before Thanksgiving. Rather than embarrass her by giving them both a talking to, I had simply handed Prashant a container of sanitizing wipes after the holiday break and told him to lock the door if he and Jenny decided to have any future sexy-times at work.
“Hey, man . . . " he started, then trailed off. “You have sex, right?” he finished, almost under his breath, like he was afraid his mother might be listening.
“Oh, Prashant. If you only knew,” I thought. In spite of myself, I sighed and responded, “On occasion. What’s up?”
His head was down, and he was talking into his chest, but I thought he said, “Jim, the guys are saying I’m not a real man because I went down on her, and we haven’t actually done it . . . yet.”
That was rich coming from the other computer nerds I knew Prashant hung out with. I had no doubt that he had gotten farther with an actual human woman—or man, no judgment—than any of the rest of them. “Prashant, your first mistake was telling anyone. It’s not cool to treat women like conquests to be bragged about. But since you asked, ‘real men’ make sure their partners are satisfied, and that means doing what she needs to get her off. Did you get any complaints from the recipient?”
“Well, no. She really seemed to like it.”
“Then there you go. What matters is what Jenny thinks, not any of the dickheads you hang out with.”
That seemed to make him feel better. Prashant answered the phones and dealt with walk-ups while I quickly tried to get my course proposal in shape. As I was leaving to turn it in, I felt the need to offer Prashant some additional advice. “It’s okay not to do it, you know, but that’s something you and Jenny need to decide together.”
He nodded. “Thanks, chief.”
“And Prashant, if you do get to that point, for the love of God, remember to wrap it up.” Jenny was by far my favorite Help Desk employee. I didn’t need Prashant doing anything stupid to mess up her life.
I went about the rest of my day in a haze. I returned to Paige’s house that evening knowing I needed to show her what I had found, but not sure how to do so.
I let myself in using my key. “Paige! Where are you?” I called, looking around for her.
“Up here, Jim,” came her voice from the top of the stairs. Then she appeared, wearing only a short silk robe and dangling handcuffs from her fingertips. “I hope you came to play.”
“Jesus, Paige. Is that all you ever think of? Not tonight.” I decided to just get it over with. “Remember when you asked me if I ever wondered what we looked like doing it? Well now I know. I have to show you what Mark has been up to.”
I grabbed the laptop off of the nightstand in the bedroom and beckoned for her to sit down next to me on the bed. I pulled up the video Mark was compiling and played it for her. I guess I expected her to be appalled like I was, or at least upset, but as she watched, her hand slid beneath her robe, and she began to finger herself. “God, that’s hot,” she said.
“Paige! It looks awful—like I’m using you. He’s taken all of the playfulness out of it, and any indication that you’re enjoying yourself at all, when we both know that’s not what really happened.”
“Jim, I told you I like this stuff.”
“You also told me how much you like being romantic with me, and how what you feel with Mark is just superficial. Which is it?” I could barely believe the words coming out of my mouth. Just a few short weeks ago I had discouraged Paige from falling in love with me. Now I was chastising her for . . . I didn’t know what exactly . . . following my advice?
“I’m sorry. It’s both. I like it rough. I like being naughty. I never thought I’d want anything different. Then you came along. Mark and I both know you’d never do anything to actually hurt me, and what we do end up doing together . . . mmm.” She sighed and smiled, then took my hand. “Watching that video made me excited.” She placed my hand on her very aroused pussy. “But if it doesn’t do it for you, let’s make our own. I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out how to hide it from Mark.”
She untied her robe, and let it slip from her body, then pulled me over on top of her. A voice in the back of my head was screaming “No!” but my dick was telling it to shut up and mind its own business. Every time I had just about convinced myself to end this bizarre threesome with Paige and Mark, I ended up getting pulled in even deeper—literally as well as metaphorically—and tonight would be no different. I pushed everything else out of my mind as I accessed the program and positioned the cameras, then joined Paige in giving the performance of a lifetime.
Copyright GWinterbourne 2018.