Juliet Hideaway 018

Juliet Hideaway 018
While Julie generally said nice and loving things to me, when I thought about it, she usually did that only in response to my doing it for her; like saying "you're welcome" to a "thank you." When was the last time she unprompted crawled into my lap like a cat and wrapped her arms around me? I used to love that. When was the last time she had come up behind me and grabbed my cock (a personal favorite of mine to show me she was horny)?
And, speaking of respect, she had always been big on the 'honey-do' lists for me. But, increasingly, it had been given as a matter of expectation, rather than request. It had been given as a demand, rather than a favor, delivered with a kiss and a hug.
What I felt was missing in our relationship, what had been bothering me before all of this came to a head, I began to realize was an amalgam of love, honor and respect for me. And, those missing elements-necessary to any healthy relationship, much less marriage- seemed to have been fading away steadily for some time.
I still loved Julie. I still wanted to be with her. But, I realized that, regardless of what I discovered, things would have to change for us, or our marriage was doomed anyway.
Julie arrived home at the expected time. I waited. An hour and a half later (how do cops on a stake-out do it?), she pulled out. I followed. She ended up driving to a suburb north of town. Quite a ways north. Third-ring, or maybe fourth-ring suburb north. Like where the farms start appearing north. She was clearly trying to get away from prying eyes.
She pulled into a parking lot for a supper-club by a lake. I followed at a safe distance. She emerged from the car, and I could see she was dressed to the nines-little black dress and all of that. She looked great. The promised excessive thickness she had when we first met had not yet materialized.
She entered the club. Half an hour later, I did the same, cautiously. The cars outside told me that the place would be fairly well populated. It was. I took a seat at the bar, opposite the dining room, away from the entry and the bathrooms, picking up a newspaper to peer over into the dining room. I saw them. In a back booth. It was dimly lit, but it was her. He was a little older, maybe late thirties, and good looking. Probably better looking than me, by most objective criteria, but no Adonis, either. He was well-dressed in an expensive suit. I didn't recognize him. I doubted he worked with us. They were clearly comfortable with each other, less clearly to the casual observer (but I was studying them over my newspaper screen) they were flirting and had amorous intentions. Light, but lingering touches, gazing into each others' eyes, a little smile here, a knowing nod there. They were sharing a bottle of wine. I had a beer. They were eating. I wasn't hungry.
When they looked ready to go, I paid my tab and retreated to my car. They came out minutes later. He was probably about my height, a more slender build than I had. He got into his car-a moderately-priced luxury sedan (if that's not an oxymoron)-and she into hers. Based on how they were acting, without a kiss goodnight, it was clear that they would be meeting up after they left. They pulled out, she following him, and I followed her. They pulled into the driveway of a nice home just outside the city limits.
I had given them enough space that I didn't run up on them. Nevertheless, there was no natural turning point, and I couldn't park there, so I drove past them. It was getting dark, but I put my hand to my cheek anyway, to disguise myself as I drove by.
I made a u-turn half a mile up the road, and doubled back. I killed my lights as I pulled up to the house. I pulled into the drive, outside of view of the front windows (convenient). I walked up to the side of the house-no fence. I look out my Android phone. I made sure the ringer was off (again), I made sure the flash was off (again), and I put it into picture mode. I walked around to the back of the house. I heard a shuffling ahead of me at the edge of the lawn-where it met the long wild grass. Oh shit! A dog! I didn't think about a dog!
I froze. I stared. It emerged. A raccoon. Whew! No matter how prepared you think you are....
I walked around to the nearest rear window. Mud room-nothing. Next window-kitchen-nothing. Next window-bedroom-bingo! That didn't take them long. They were embracing, kissing, stripping each other-steadily, not frantically; I guess they got the edge off the night before. I look a couple of photos, checked their quality-they came out good. I recognized her in them both. I waited, didn't bother to look into the window again for a few minutes. Back up, mostly naked now, still kissing; click, click. Back down. A few minutes more. Back up, naked now, him eating her out; click, click. Back down. Check images-her face is clearly visible; great. Sigh. Wait five minutes, realize I am crying. Wipe my eyes. Back up, he's fucking her; click, click, click. Back down, check images-not clearly her, but clearly the same scene-can see his face well, though. Thinking I've seen enough, gotten enough. But, what the hell, once more with feeling. Back up. Good timing. He's pulling up; she's turning over onto all fours. I notice his cock-normal sized: maybe a little bigger or a little smaller than mine, hard to tell without perspective; doesn't matter-not sure if I would have felt better or worse if he was hung like a horse. He gets into the saddle, click, click, click. Back down, check images-her and his face are clear. He's got the vinegar strokes face-must be close. Kind of quick, by my standards. But, whatever. However, curiosity gets the better of me, and I am up one last time. Sure enough, he must have finished. He pulls out, and peels the condom off his flaccid cock. If this has been going on longer than since my most recent time out of town (and, based upon their casual, unhurried behavior in bed, and their conduct in the restaurant, it has) at least she has the common decency to make him wear a condom.