Go tell your wife

You turn away from the door, your boots making absolutely no sound on the runner rug as you glide down the hallway. The dark, dominant thrill in your chest is pounding, a heavy heat pooling in your gut as you head toward the kitchen.

You find Lauren standing by the sink, rinsing off a plate under the running water, her hips swaying gently to a song humming in her head. She looks so wholesome, so traditional, a stark contrast to the absolute filth happening just down the hall.

You step up behind her, your large, rugged frame eclipsing her light. You wrap your thick arms around her waist, pulling her back against your chest. Lauren lets out a soft, pleased hum, leaning back into your masculine warmth.

“Hey,” she murmurs, turning her head slightly to look at you. “How is the editing going?”

“Well,” you rumble, your voice dropping into a low, gravelly whisper right against her ear, making her shiver. “I’m not really sure. I think Paige is a little... distracted.”

Lauren blinks, turning around in your arms to face you, her brow furrowing with a sweet, innocent confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I just went to check on her, and she’s got our video playing,” you say, a wicked, roguish grin spreading across your face. You lean in closer, your eyes locking onto hers. “And she is actively, loudly masturbating to it, honey.”

Lauren’s jaw drops. The plate she was holding nearly slips from her fingers back into the sink. A deep, vibrant, blistering crimson flush immediately erupts across her cheeks, flooding down her neck and disappearing into the collar of her sweater.

“ Mark!” she gasps, her voice a breathless, horrified squeak. She looks at you in absolute shock, her traditional modesty completely shattered. “Oh my god, no she isn’t! Tell me you’re joking. She... she wouldn’t!”

“I’m not joking,” you purr, your large hand sliding down to cup her hip, feeling her pulse racing through her leggings. “She’s in there right now, rubbing her pussy, calling out my name, and talking about how lucky you are. You can hear it right through the door.”

“Oh, heavens...” Lauren breathes. She presses a hand over her chest, her breathing turning shallow and rapid. She looks toward the kitchen doorway, utterly embarrassed, her mind reeling at the sheer, scandalous reality of it. “That’s... that’s terrible. We should... we should knock, or stop her, or...”

She trails off, her eyes darting back to yours. You notice the subtle change in her gaze, the way her pupils are dilated, the way her bottom lip is trembling, and the sudden, heavy heat radiating from her body.

“Or what, honey?” you challenge softly, your voice dripping with temptation.

Lauren swallows hard, a nervous, deeply aroused giggle escaping her lips. She bites her lip, looking down at your chest before looking back up, a sudden, helpless spark of exhibitionist desire taking over.

“Is she... is she really that loud?” Lauren whispers, her voice thick with a mix of intense embarrassment and a sudden, undeniable urge to hear it for herself. “Can you... can you really hear everything?”