The Things We Do For Lust: Book 1: To The Edge Read online

  I wanted to trust my wife, I always had before, but there were too many reasons not to right now. I needed to clear things up before I could move on.

  The elevator took forever to reach the 19th floor. The walk down the hall took longer. I wanted to run, but I kept my cool. "No rash decisions," I told myself.

  At the door to our room, I took out my key card and slowly but firmly inserted it into the slot. The yellow privacy light came on and the door remained locked. I tried again, just to be sure and again the yellow light appeared, taunting me, denying me access to my wife.

  It looked like my worst fears were being realized. My wife had turned the deadbolt on me. Making sure I couldn't disturb whatever was going on inside.

  I could have knocked, but that would have given up the game. They could stall, lie, make up any story about why they were in the room together with me locked out. Robin could tell me any fanciful story and I would believe her. She just had that way with me. I had to find out for sure; I had to see it for myself. The only things that I would believe over my wife were my own eyes. And even then, she could still probably bluff me.

  I took out the other key I had, and moved on to the next door. I slid it in and was immediately greeted by the green light. I looked down at the light. It said to me, you're good to go. You're good to have your entire life ripped away and shattered. Enter this room if you dare, leave all hope behind. Dante's Inferno was never this daunting.

  I screwed up my courage and entered. This room was smaller than mine. It held a single queen-sized bed, one small table with one chair against the far wall below the window. A dresser with a flat screen TV on it sat opposite the bed. The bathroom was on the left. Across the room, standing like the gate to hell, was the access door to mine and Robin's room.

  As carefully as I could, I undid the dead bolt on this side. If Robin had noticed the door was un-locked and re-bolted it, I was screwed. I would have to go to plan C. There was only one way to find out. I grabbed the handle and was about to turn it when I stopped.

  This was it, the point of no return. If I opened this door, my life would be changed forever, no take backs, no refunds. But then, my life was already changed. If I didn't go in, I'd never know the truth and I'd never totally trust Robin again. At least by going in I'd find the answers I needed. I wanted to believe my wife again. I couldn't live otherwise. So I opened the door and went in.

  The moment I crossed the threshold, I knew I was undone. I heard them before I saw them. An unmistakable sound. Deep, passionate moans, both masculine and feminine. In a desperate grasp to maintain my sanity, I hoped my wife was just sitting in the bedroom alone watching a pay-per-view X-rated film. Yes, she was probably sitting alone, maybe naked, no, definitely naked. Lying back against the headboard, hands between her legs, her fingers manipulating her newly-shorn pussy.

  At that moment, that was what I truly believed. The fact that we had never watched an adult movie together never crossed my mind. I decided then and there to never doubt Robin again.

  I slowly made my way further into the room, until I was just able to see into the bedroom. Robin had left that door open. I guess she figured the dead bolt was enough to keep me, or housekeeping, away.

  The scene that came into view left me stunned and unable to move.

  Robin, my wife of almost 3 years, was on the bed, naked, but not alone. She was laid out flat on her back. Scott has on top of her, slowly thrusting his hips, up and down between her thighs. I couldn't see actual penetration, but even I had to admit, they were fucking.

  Robin's legs where hooked around Scott's thighs, her hands grasping his buttocks, pulling him further into her with each thrust. Her head was thrown back. Her eyes were closed. Her moans escaping her slightly parted lips, each utterance an icy stab in the heart. I had heard those moans many times before, but up close in my ears, never from far away. I had never even watched her masturbate. Any pleasure she revealed, was due to me and my actions.

  All my focus was on Robin, but I couldn't help but see Scott, since he was firmly planted between us. The first thing I noticed about him, other than his overall fitness, was an intriguing full color tattoo. A Siberian tiger covered about half the left side of his back. It looked as if the cat was riding Scott, while he was riding my wife. It's eye's looking back at me. The tiger saying, she's ours now.

  A quick, rough grunt punctuated each thrust of Scott's tight round ass.

  One very dim ray of light fell on this inky black tableau. A silver foil condom wrapper sat on the nightstand table next to the bed, my side of the bed. At least they were using protection. I had no doubt it was a box of condoms Scott had stuffed into his pocket last night.

  It felt like I stood there forever, although I knew it was only a moment, counted in seconds, not hours.

  I was frozen, unable to move. My brain giving so many contradictory commands that my body just gave up. One command, rush into the room, tear Scott away and reclaim Robin, the primal alpha response. Another command, flee from the room, forget you're married, maybe join a monastery, typical beta male response.

  Then there was a unique command. Stand and watch. Enjoy the show. Forget who's taking part. I was embarrassed to realize I had grown rock hard watching my wife get fucked. I had to admit she was a very attractive woman and she exuded an exotic air of sensuality while a strong handsome man pounded her pussy with his cock. It was like the best porno I had ever seen, very high production values. Without thinking, I pointed my phone at the rutting couple and took a picture capturing the painfully erotic moment in digital high def perfection.

  I looked at the results and I couldn't help admiring the quality of the shot. I could see the sweat beading up on Scott's back. The pleasure that played across my wife's face was thoroughly visible. I could really masturbate to this picture.

  My focus returned to the action when my wife's moaning became more urgent. "Oh fuck me Scott," she said. The words burned my ears. In the past during some of our own lovemaking, she had called out my name in passion, but not with such urgency. "Don't. Stop. Just. Fuck. Me." With each word she pushed her hips up to meet her lover's downward strokes. Scott had to increase his speed to match my wife's. It didn't look like he was planning to stop until he filled the condom.

  "Oh Scott. I'm cumminggggg" and I knew from experience, the guttural sounds she was making proved she was. It was a long climax and before her cries of pleasure could ebb, I watched as Scott's ass clenched and he gave a series of triumphal cries, signaling his own orgasm.

  Now I really had to decide what to do. The couple on the bed had been so focused on their own pleasure that I had escaped detection. However high their passion had taken them, they were coming down and would soon spot me. I had to make a choice, one that would determine all our futures.

  They both had made their own choices, ones that led to this moment. Now it was my turn. I could stay and confront them, or leave. If I confronted them now, my marriage would probably be over. I saw no way to save it. My marriage was still probably doomed even if I left, calmed down and thought everything through so we could discuss the situation like rational adults.

  I chose to leave the lovers in their afterglow. If I had to deal with my wife's infidelity, I'd rather Scott wasn't around. It was going to be a long road back to what Robin and I had. We may never even get there. All I knew is that the first step on that journey was out the way I came.

  The lovers were kissing when I left them. An intimate moment that hurt me more than their rutting had done.

  As I made my way downstairs, I couldn't help but laugh at my situation. This afternoon Robin had been my dessert, but I was just her appetizer.

  ***

  Post-coital bliss. No other thoughts enter the mind, just the memory of the pleasure.

  A kiss roots her in the moment. She returns it with passion.

  Scott felt good inside her. His technique is different than her husband's. They both make her feel good, but in totally different ways, totally
different flavors.

  Peter is chocolate, Scott, cayenne pepper.

  She runs her hands down her lover's smooth chest, fingers playing along his well-defined muscles towards his softening cock.

  She wants another go. A little more spice, before her chocolatey dessert later that night.

  A wicked smile alights in her hazel eyes.

  Chapter 6

  I had no intention of returning to the conference. The thought didn't even cross my mind. I had no intention of going home either. In fact, I didn't really know where I was going.

  I got out of the elevator and headed across the casino floor. A cacophony of slot machines, pop tunes and the screams of lucky players filled the air around me, but I didn't hear a thing. I was stuck in my own tragic world. The scene from upstairs played in my head like a never ending porno loop. But there would be no happy endings for me in this one.

  I walked out into the hot Vegas sun and started down the street. Was I heading north or south? I didn't really know, didn't really care. I passed the Paris resort, so I thought I was heading downtown. Balley's was next, then up and over Flamingo road. I just kept walking, measuring time by footsteps with no destination in mind.

  I was approaching the Venetian when the full force of what happened hit me. I doubled over in pain. Tears began flowing from my eyes. I'm sure I was getting plenty of funny looks from the tourists, but spend any time in Las Vegas and you'll see plenty of stranger things than a grown man rolled up in a ball on the sidewalk, crying.

  While I was in this state of hysteria, I lost track of time. It could have been 15 minutes, twenty, maybe half an hour. All I knew was that after a while, I just ran out of tears. I had none left to shed. Maybe if I drank some water and thought about it more I would be able to start crying again. For now, I was done.

  I stood up and reassessed the situation. What was I going to do next? Here I was, standing in the middle of America's gambling mecca. Possibility ruled. Take a chance, win a million bucks, or lose your life, or your wife. For the first time since I started seriously dating Robin, I felt totally and utterly alone.

  The sun was beginning to work its way behind the grand hotel towers that lined the strip. I didn't know what time it was and I really didn't care at the moment. I gave no thought to the future. For me, there was only the present.

  I had worked the worst of the depression out of my system. I knew there was more pain inside me, but at least for now it kept low and out of sight. No doubt it would return when Robin and I battled over the house, our awesome vinyl LP collection and who got to keep the few mutual friends we had accumulated in the six years of our relationship. I think John and Stacy would stay with Robin. I'd get George.

  Determined to end my public display of depression, I picked my sorry ass up off the ground and moved on. The twin brown towers of the Wynn and Encore resorts loomed ahead of me. I'd never gambled there before. The table minimums were usually too large for my budget-sized bank roll. Today was different. I had $400 burning a hole in my pocket, half of it Robin's. She had our winnings from two nights ago in the safe, so I didn't think she'd care about me blowing what I had. Who was I kidding? I doubted she was even thinking about me, about us, at the moment. I could splurge for a little while and work out the details of our separation later.

  I finally looked at my phone; it was only ten to 4.

  I entered the casino. The cool air-conditioned air enveloped me in a chilly cocoon. I had to walk past rows of designer boutiques selling only the finest fashion and accessories. I passed one window and saw a purse Robin would have loved. For just a brief moment I thought about getting it for her, but then I remembered that was Scott's privilege now.

  My eyes began to well up again. I covered my face with my hands and fought hard to hold back the tears. A public breakdown in here would bring casino security, and that would not end well. I forced myself to stand up straight.

  I found a men's room and splashed cold water on my face. It felt good cleaning away the salt that had accumulated from my tears and sweat. I dried my face with a paper towel. I took a moment to compose myself and continued on into the casino. This time ignoring all the shops I passed.

  ***

  The gaming floor at the Wynn was more subdued than at Planet Hollywood. It was still lined with restaurants and bars, but they were more upscale and unique. Instead of a P.F. Chang's, there was the Red 8.

  The casino might have been busy on the weekends, but at 4 o'clock on this day, it was dead. I looked around trying to decide what I wanted to play. I was in no mood for anything too taxing. I wasn't sure I could focus well enough to play craps. I knew baccarat was simple, but it always intimidated me, so that was a no-go. I was sure as hell not going to play roulette. I could have played slots, mindlessly pulling the handle, but that seemed too simple and I doubted it would take my mind off my problems.

  I finally sat down at a $25 blackjack table. I knew the rules and the basic strategy, so it would be easy to put myself on autopilot and just play. I put five 20’s and three 100 dollar bills on the table. The dealer, a tall older white man with grey hair counted the money and laid the bills out on the table in front of him.

  "Greens, sir?" he asked.

  "Yeah."

  He grabbed a stack of green chips from the tray in front of him and made four even stacks of four chips.

  "Four hundred going out." he called out. A short, balding white man in an ill-fitting tan suit turned his head to look over. He had been watching a couple of blousy brunettes trying to learn to play 3-card poker. "Go ahead," he said, waving his hand our way.

  The dealer gathered the 16 chips into one stack and slid it across the table to me.

  "Good Luck, sir," he said.

  "It can only get better from here," I replied. I put a single green chip in the betting circle in front of me and the dealer started dealing.

  I had an ace and an eight. Dealer was showing a five.

  I was the only player at the table so it didn't matter how long I took to make my decisions. I was in no hurry. I had no where to go, no one to answer to. It was still just hitting me that I was single again. Not legally, but emotionally.

  I waved my hand over the cards, the signal to stay.

  The dealer flipped over a nine. The house had 14, and had to take another card. The dealer dealt a jack for a total of 24.

  "Bust," the dealer said.

  I was up 25 dollars. Maybe this would be the beginning of something big for me. I ordered beer from a passing cocktail waitress.

  My fortune went back and forth. At one time I was up a hundred, but the cards turned against me and I was soon down the same. I was about to place a $50 bet when I felt a buzz in my pocket. It was probably my wife. I ignored it. Several bets later it buzzed again. I pulled out my phone to see what she wanted.

  "Sorry sir," the dealer said. "No phones at the table."

  I excused myself and stepped away.

  As expected it was Robin.

  -where R U?

  I didn't know how to answer that. I could say where I was, but I didn't really want to see Robin just yet. I wasn't ready. I still hadn't processed the day's activities, plus I needed to win some money back.

  So I texted back. -do you care?

  I got a quick response.

  -Of course I care.

  What an act she was putting on. She didn't know I knew about her infidelity, but still. Wanting to see me right after sharing our bed with another man. What kind of woman does that? Schedules a lover between lunch and dinner with her husband. Boy was I feeling bitter.

  -Peter, where are you? She spelled it out, I supposed that meant she was getting serious.

  -I'm playing blackjack.

  -what about our date?

  Our date, that was funny. -Do you really care?

  -Yes Peter I care!!

  Double exclamation points. That must mean she really did care. Hah. I texted the picture I took of her and Scott in mid-thrust.

  I didn'
t get a response back right away. I could only guess what thoughts were running through her mind. Like 'Oh my God how did he get this picture?' or 'I hope the guy next to me at the restaurant can't see this.' or maybe even 'Damn, Scott has a nice ass.'

  Oh, I was really working myself up. I had to remain calm and in control even if my heart was racing. Actually looking at the picture I had to admit. Scott did look pretty sexy from behind. I giggled a little and that helped.

  -Peter, we have to talk. She finally texted back.

  I didn't reply. I didn't know what to say. I wasn't ready yet. I would either cave into whatever crazy story she came up with or I would get crazy myself and say things to hurt her. Hurt her like she hurt me. I didn't want to do that.

  -Peter, meet me at the Heart bar. She still thought I was at Planet Hollywood. Silly girl.

  -I'm not ready to talk yet, I texted.

  -when will you be?

  -Don't know, I'll get back to you. I wanted to add something about Scott helping her pass the time, but I didn't. I guess that was a good sign I was healing. I turned the phone off. I didn't want to deal with anymore distractions.

  I went back to the table and continued playing. While I played I kept going over everything that happened today. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she had sex with me at noon and then had sex with Scott about an hour and a half later. It didn't make sense to me.

  Then it dawned on me that we didn't actually have intercourse. She gave me a blow job but she didn't let me inside her. I had put if off to not having enough time. I only had a brief window of opportunity before I had to get back to my meetings.

  In hindsight, she didn't want to have sex with me because she wanted to keep herself clean for Scott, no sloppy seconds for him. I threw my two hole cards at the dealer.

  "Sir, please don't throw the cards." These Vegas dealers are always polite.

  I looked down at my stack of chips. I had about a hundred and fifty dollars left. I decided I had enough of this. I couldn't even concentrate on the cards. I think I had just thrown away a ten-jack.