Who’s Watching Now

"I want you to sleep with my husband."

"What?!" Gabrielle choked on her salad, dropping her fork onto the table as she stared at her older friend.

Clara looked back at her with a perfectly innocent expression, as if they were discussing the weather or something equally mundane. Her lips curved in a faint smile, but her eyes stayed completely serious, with something sharp flickering deep inside them.

"Here, darling." Clara handed her a clean fork. "Try not to choke to death. It would be such a pity if you died young, in the bloom of your youth."

"You're joking, right? Tell me you're joking! I always knew your sense of humor was... unusual, but this is a bit beyond reasonable--"

Clara shrugged.

"I'm not joking at all. You know, the other day Adrian told me he liked you very much." She smiled softly. "He caught a glimpse of you. Back when you were posing for me as Persephone."

Gabrielle immediately understood what she meant. She often modeled for Clara's photographs and paintings. It was, in fact, the main reason for their friendship -- which otherwise might have seemed rather odd. Clara was already pushing forty, while Gabrielle, still very young and inexperienced, was studying art at the same college where Clara taught painting.

One day, Clara had asked her to stay after class. The teacher showered the student with compliments and practically begged her to let her make a few sketches from life. That was how it began -- at least once a week, Gabrielle would come over to Clara's apartment and spend no less than two hours in her small but cozy private studio. At first she posed clothed, but they quickly moved past that awkward stage and on to real art: the nude.

Last week, Gabrielle posed longer than usual -- Clara seemed to be taking her time on purpose, fussing over the right pose. One moment she asked her to arch her back more, the next she told her to slip the ancient Greek chiton off her shoulder, exposing her small breasts. Used to Clara's exacting demands, Gabrielle didn't suspect a thing -- until she noticed Adrian standing in the doorway.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on Gabi. His gaze roamed over her bare chest, slow and appraising. When their eyes met, Adrian gave her an easy, reassuring smile. Flustered and embarrassed, she yanked the fabric up over her chilled shoulders in one quick motion.

Clara, as if only just noticing her husband's presence, said gently,

"Adrian, leave. Can't you see we're busy?"

The rest of the session fell apart completely. Mumbling an apology -- not even sure what for -- Gabi hurriedly slipped out of the chiton and into her everyday clothes: a sweater and jeans. By the time she finished dressing and twisted her long, loose hair into a messy bun, she stepped into the hallway -- and of course ran straight into Adrian.

He pretended to be occupied with something incredibly important -- either polishing his shoes or just rearranging them on the rack.

Half-turned away, he acted like he didn't notice how Gabi, lacing up her boots, stole glances at him from beneath her lowered lashes. Despite his age -- which she considered rather significant, somewhere around forty-five -- he could easily outshine most of the boys her age. The skinny second-year art students, dressed in absurd, mismatched clothes and perpetually hunched over their easels, looked like a sad parody of men compared to Adrian -- tall, broad-shouldered, effortlessly masculine.

He probably didn't spend much time at the gym -- there was a slight softness under his shirt. But nature had been more than generous to him in every other way. He looked like Clint Eastwood in his prime -- lean, upright, with a proud bearing and that cold, pale blue stare.

Back then, she had caught herself thinking:I wonder what he's like... down there? Big and thick? Or... just long? How does he satisfy Clara? God, I wish I could see... just a quick peek...

Ashamed of her own thoughts, Gabi flushed deep red and bolted out of the painter's welcoming home like a cork popping from a bottle, forgetting to say goodbye -- and knowing she wouldn't have the nerve to meet their eyes after what had been running through her head.

Now, though, Gabrielle understood that nothing about that awkward moment had been forgotten. Clara must have noticed every last detail -- and decided to act on it.

While Gabi was turning all this over in her mind, Clara took her silence her own way.

"If you're shy or nervous, I can show you what my husband can do first," she said lightly. "I assure you, he's more than capable of satisfying me... well, almost completely." She let out a soft little laugh. "I doubt you've had that many boys, have you? So I understand your hesitation."

In truth, Gabi had only had a single experience -- and it could hardly be called a good one. Once, she'd slept with a classmate. Everyone around her talked about sex so much, and with such enthusiasm, that she'd finally decided to see what all the fuss was about.

She hadn't liked it at all.

The classmate -- Bobby -- like most of the guys in their department, long-haired, bony, and far too full of himself, left her not so much disappointed as confused.

After a couple of sloppy, wet kisses, he stripped her in a hurry, tossed aside his ridiculous clothes, and fumbled with a condom for what felt like a full two minutes. Then he dropped his weight on top of her, shifting awkwardly between her legs. Something hard and hot pressed against her, then slid between her folds -- but Gabi was dry as the Sahara.

It had hurt -- that was all. The only consolation was that it lasted barely a minute; Bobby had spent longer wrestling with the condom. There hadn't even been any blood -- just a dull soreness for a few days whenever Gabi had to sit down.

Remembering the awkward episode, she bit her lip and frowned. Clara, taking it as a sign that Gabrielle was about to refuse, pressed her harder:

"Come on, say yes! You're not risking anything -- you'll just watch from a hidden spot! I won't tell Adrian, I swear! And then you can decide. You can always say no -- I won't be offended in the slightest, darling."

Gabi glanced at Clara hesitantly; the older woman was watching her with open expectation. Gabi felt a flicker of guilt -- it didn't seem like her friend meant her any harm.

She's right, nothing terrible will happen,Gabrielle thought.I'll just look -- and then I'll refuse. Sleeping with my teacher's husband... my friend's husband... no. That's completely wrong... and yet...

"Well?" Clara prompted.

"All right," Gabi said at last, with visible reluctance, trying to hide the curiosity that was slowly catching fire inside her.

"Then move!" Clara jumped to her feet. "He'll be back from work any minute! Come with me!"

She grabbed Gabi by the hand and pulled her into the studio. There, she tucked her into a corner hidden behind a heavy folding screen, where models usually changed before posing.

"Stay here. Don't make a sound -- he won't suspect a thing. You'll be able to see everything from here."

Right in front of a narrow gap between the panels stood a wide couch, strewn with cushions over a brightly colored throw.

"Be a good girl, all right?" Clara kissed her on the forehead, and Gabi gave her a shy smile in return.

She felt strange -- like she was about to take part in some kind of mischief, but with the adults' permission. Would there be a punishment afterward?..

You won't know unless you try,she told herself.

With a quiet sigh, Gabi settled onto the low stool, leaning back against the wall behind her -- just as a key scraped in the front door. Clara winked at her and strolled off toward the hallway, her house slippers clicking softly against the floor.

For a while, Gabi couldn't see anything -- only hear two voices. One, male, not particularly pleased. The other, Clara's -- soft, coaxing, almost playful.

The clicking of heels returned. Clara, swaying her hips just slightly, walked back into the studio and stopped in the middle of the room.

"Come here, darling," she called.

Gabi didn't see whether Adrian followed. She wasn't thinking about him at all anymore.

She couldn't take her eyes off Clara.

Clara began to undress, slowly, unhurriedly. Gabi had never seen her friend naked before -- and now her mouth flooded with saliva as she realized what had been hidden beneath that paint-stained work smock.

The smock slipped to the parquet floor. There was nothing underneath -- Gabi hadn't even known Clara wore no underwear.

Clara was stunning. The complete opposite of Gabrielle, who was slender, almost boyish rather than womanly. Clara wasn't plump -- she was full, ripe. Her face and shoulders were touched with a light bronze tan, while the rest of her body remained pale, almost milky. A soft curve of her stomach didn't spoil her at all -- especially with the way her waist flowed into wide, generous hips, usually hidden beneath her bell-shaped skirts.

Flushing at herself, Gabi let her gaze drift lower, to the dark triangle of curls at Clara's mound. For some reason, her breath caught in her throat, and she had to pinch her own arm just to steady herself.

With both hands, Clara lifted and displayed -- for her husband, or perhaps for her hidden observer -- a pair of full, heavy breasts, like overripe fruit from some exotic tree. She squeezed her own flesh in her palms, and the tender skin flushed pink where her nails dug in. Her nipples were large, dark brown, the tips jutting out boldly. Gabi found herself licking her lips before she caught herself, biting down on her lower lip in embarrassment.

"How much longer are you going to keep me waiting?" Clara said, a note of impatience creeping into her voice.

At last, Adrian appeared in the narrow gap between the panels. He approached his wife and looked down at her from his considerable height. His face showed absolutely nothing -- no interest, no arousal. Gabrielle was struck by his indifference.

He must be bored of fucking his wife by now...she thought.Well, maybe this gentleman could use a breath of fresh air. But no -- not me. I'll just watch. That's all.

Using two fingers, Adrian took hold of her bare nipple and tugged it toward him. Clara's breast swayed. She threw her head back and let out a faint moan, arching her body. She spread her legs wider. One of her hands slid into the soft curls between her thighs. Her fingers pressed into her mound, and she began to stroke herself shamelessly -- slow, unhurried. Her middle finger disappeared into the thicket.

Gabi swallowed hard -- she understood that Clara was touching herself inside. The sight made her chest tighten and ache beneath her too-tight bra. Her nipples rubbed against the rough lace. Her breathing quickened, and she forced herself to breathe as quietly as possible, like a mouse in its hole.

Adrian kept watching his wife, still with that same detached expression. Absentmindedly, he toyed with her nipple -- rolling it between his fingers, tugging it, letting it slip free again, as if unsure what to do with the foolish little thing. At last, he leaned down and flicked his tongue over the swollen tip -- only to pull away immediately.

Clara let out a sharp cry and jerked, reaching for him, pressing herself against his body, trembling all over. But he showed no mercy; placing his free hand on the crown of her head, he pushed down, forcing Clara to sink to her knees -- which she did at once.

Adrian unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his jeans, and pulled the zipper down. He pushed the waistband of his underwear aside. From his open jeans, his cock slid free -- fully hard, ready.

Gabrielle's eyes widened. She'd only seen anything like that in porn clips she occasionally, guiltily watched on her phone. It was thick -- nearly as wide as her wrist, no less. Engorged with blood, veined in dark ridges, crowned with a large, pronounced head, it stood straight up, giving a faint, restless twitch. No foreskin -- Adrian was circumcised.

Gabi's cheeks burned, as if scorched with acid. Her breathing quickened. She pressed her thighs tightly together and shifted on her stool, trying not to make a sound. Sitting suddenly felt uncomfortable -- like after that failed first time.

Clara parted her full lips, painted a deep carmine, and looked up at her husband. She had stopped touching herself; her palms were braced against the floor. Gabi couldn't take her eyes off Clara's right hand -- her fingers glistened, leaving wet marks on the parquet.

Adrian lost what little patience he had left. He grabbed Clara by the hair, and her carefully pinned bun came loose at once, spilling over her shoulders in a dark cascade. He pulled her head toward him, and with his other hand angled his cock so it slid straight into her mouth.

Gabi's own lips parted in shock, as if echoing Clara without even realizing it. She hadn't expected anything like this.

It went in without resistance. Despite the size, Clara took him deep -- all of him. Her painted lips traveled down his length until they pressed right against him, her face buried close. A muffled, helpless sound escaped her. Tears welled in her eyes, but Adrian paid no attention. When Clara tried to pull back -- probably just to breathe -- he caught her by the ears, holding her firmly in place.

His hips started moving in slow, deep strokes; this was no blowjob -- Adrian was simply fucking his wife's mouth.

Gabi, spellbound, followed the movement of his hips. Adrian's jeans had slipped almost to his knees, and she could see the play of muscle beneath his skin with every thrust. Her gaze shifted to Clara -- through tear-blurred eyes, she was looking straight at her, right through the narrow gap in the screen. Thick tears ran down her cheeks, smearing her mascara.

Whenever Adrian pulled back, Clara drew in sharp, desperate breaths, trying not to choke; when he drove forward again, deep into her open mouth, her nose pressed hard against him. Gabi could even see the way Clara's throat bulged with each thrust, stretched to take him in. A tickle rose in her own throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid she might cough.

Adrian kept picking up speed, his movements growing rougher, more erratic. His face flushed, and a strange expression twisted across it -- not pleasure, but something harsher, almost ugly, as if this wasn't sex at all but some kind of punishment.

Maybe it is,Gabi thought, gripping the edge of the stool with damp fingers.Clara hinted at something like that... that he doesn't quite satisfy her. Maybe she's seeing other men... maybe he even knows. I don't know anything about what's really going on between them...

"That's enough," he said abruptly, pushing Clara's face away.

His cock, smeared with lipstick at the base, slipped from her mouth, and she broke into a ragged cough. A thin, shining thread of saliva stretched from her lips and dripped onto her knees, but Clara didn't seem to notice -- she was too busy trying to catch her breath, gasping for air. Her lips, already full, looked swollen now, flushed and soft.

"Get up," Adrian ordered.

Clara rose at once, a little unsteady on her feet.

"Why are you just standing there, you stupid cow?" he snapped irritably. "Get into position, slut. You know exactly which one."

Without a second's hesitation, Clara turned her back to Gabi. Gabrielle barely had time to take in the shape of her hips -- broad and powerful, like a thoroughbred mare's -- before Adrian struck her hard across the ass. A red handprint flared on her pale skin, but Clara didn't make a sound. She placed one knee on the couch, then the other, leaning forward onto her elbows. She spread her full thighs wide. Her heavy breasts settled onto the cover and flattened against it, soft and weighty.

Gabi couldn't look away. Between Clara's legs, a glistening, flushed slit opened shamelessly in the dark curls. Just above it, the small, dark circle of her anus was visible; the sight of that part of her friend's body sent an unexpected jolt through Gabrielle. Her panties suddenly felt too tight, pressing into her. Heat and moisture gathered between her thighs. She swallowed, ashamed of her own reaction -- filthy, and yet strangely, intensely alive, as if she were witnessing something forbidden and sacred at once.

While Adrian pushed his jeans down, Clara shifted just slightly, angling herself so Gabi could see more clearly -- not directly, but just enough. When he stepped closer and wrapped a hand around his cock, still slick with saliva, Gabi saw everything in vivid detail.

She watched the heavy head press against Clara's wet folds. For a moment it seemed impossible that it would fit; Gabi held her breath. Adrian moved slowly, dragging the tip along her slick slit, up and down, as if coating himself though she was already soaked. Clara trembled under his touch. Her hips quivered, her breasts sliding over the cushions.

"Please!" she whimpered, twisting to look back at him over her shoulder. "Please!"

The tip pushed into her slick, swollen folds -- and slipped out again at once. Clara let out a frustrated moan; her face was all naked pleading, tears clinging to her lashes in bright beads.

"Fine," Adrian muttered through his teeth.

In one hard thrust, he drove himself into her. A wet, obscene sound filled the room, and a raw cry tore out of Clara's chest. With one hand he grabbed her loose hair, winding it around his fist; with the other he seized her ass, his thumb pressing straight against the tight little hole between her cheeks.

Now it wasn't just her panties -- even her trousers felt too tight on Gabi. Her pussy was swollen, slick, aching. Every sensitive part of her seemed to turn outward, rubbing insistently against the rough cotton that suddenly felt far too coarse. Without quite realizing what she was doing, she slid both hands between her thighs and began to rock slowly on the stool.

A strange feeling spread through her, something feverish, sharp -- a kind of burning envy that made her nerves tremble. She couldn't even tell who she envied more: Adrian, who could do whatever he wanted with his beautiful wife... or Clara herself. Gabi couldn't imagine what she was feeling -- maybe it hurt, being stretched open by something so big? But... she was so wet. And the sounds she made didn't sound like pain at all...

By now Clara was crying out at the top of her lungs, every time Adrian drove himself into her all the way. The slap of their bodies echoed somewhere deep in Gabi's own stomach, sending sharp, hungry pulses through her -- and suddenly she felt terribly alone... and terribly empty.

Adrian's thumb, roaming blindly over Clara's ass, suddenly pressed in with one particularly brutal thrust, forcing its way into her. Clara didn't cry out -- she screamed, high and broken, desperate. She tried to pull forward, away from him, but he held her fast by the hair and yanked her back again -- impaling her at once on his cock and on his finger.

"Ha!" Adrian let out a rough breath. "You thought I wouldn't use you properly? Naive."

Clara cried out even louder when he tried to force a second finger in alongside his thumb. It wouldn't go -- she was too tight. Without breaking rhythm, Adrian shifted, pushing his finger into her cunt instead, working it in around his own cock as he kept fucking her. He pulled at the slick pink flesh, spreading her open -- and Gabi could see it clearly now, the way he slid in and out of her, disappearing into that dark, wet heat.

After wetting his finger, Adrian returned to her ass. This time, his thumb slipped inside without resistance, the tight ring giving way around him. His index finger followed. With the next thrust, his cock drove all the way into her soaked, stretched pussy -- and at the same time, both fingers pushed deep into her ass, vanishing completely.