Jack walked into the bedroom, surprising his wife. “Wow, you look awesome, I thought it was Caribbean Cooking Class tonight.”
“It is.”
“Isn’t that lace wasted under your chef uniform?
A nervous giggle escaped Amy’s lips, “The class is kind of competitive, you know, all those women together. I have to be on my A game. The lace gives me a lift, even if they can’t see it.” She gave him a quizzical grin. “Guys don’t get it, it’s a girl thing.”
“I wish you’d wear that for me now and then.”
“Aw,” she said. “Jealous of a cookery class?” Damn, she thought, I have to be more careful.
She heard him say, “Don’t let my Mother lead you astray,” as he left the room. What did he mean?
~~~~
Her chef uniform was custom tailored to show off her figure, an extravagance she’d allowed herself after the first class. There was no way she was going to be upstaged by her rich mother-in-law.
Two hours later the class dismissed but Amy and Jack’s mother hung back talking to the chef. At six foot three, he cut a striking figure. The white of his uniform accentuated his mahogany skin and the loose check chef-trousers somehow hid and hinted at what was underneath.
“That was great, thanks for the session,” Amy purred.
“Did it meet your expectations, Diane?” he said, turning to Jack’s mum.
“That depends,” she said.
“On what?”
“On your stamina. There’s two needy women here that want satisfaction before they go home.”
“Guaranteed," he said, "and I’ve got a special treat for you tonight, Errol’s going to assist.”
“Your sauce-master? I can’t wait,” said Amy. “Are we going upstairs?”
“That’s where he’s waiting.”
Upstairs, Diane removed her uniform, revealing an under-bust corset and sheer black stockings. In the apartment above the restaurant they knew the way to the bedroom and, in a few seconds, the door opened to reveal a large black man lying on the bed. His chef jacket was partly unbuttoned and the trousers had gone.
The two women exchanged glances for a second before their eyes were drawn back to Errol’s long fat cock, lying on his abdomen like a sleepy rabbit waiting to be awakened. Somehow his physique and skin tone were accentuated by the starched whiteness of the uniform.
"I can’t resist that look," whispered Diane to Amy. "Can I wake up that beast while you start on Chef?"
~~~~
Jack was reading by the bedside light when he heard Amy come home. He closed his book, dimmed the light and shut his eyes. Amy crept into the bedroom, clearly thinking he was asleep.
She took off her dress, revealing that the lace panties were no more, though the matching bra was intact. She slid naked into her side of the bed.
”What happened to the knickers? I was looking forward to them.”
Caught for a moment, she hesitated. “I tore them,” she said, remembering Chef’s big hands ripping them apart. “Stupid really, I shouldn’t go to classes in those shoes. I had to pee and caught a heel in them.”
“I hope that was after the class.”
“It was,” she giggled, relieved, thinking that she’d gotten away with the excuse.
Jack reached over and pulled her towards him.
“If there’s no knickers to play with I guess I’ll have to settle for the real thing.”
In a moment he was kissing her. His hands were all over her and there was nothing she could do to resist. She’d taken Chef and Errol twice each, orgasmed each time and her body was still buzzing.
Despite his enthusiasm, Jack was gentle, his fingers playing with her clit before he slowly penetrated her.
She found herself holding her breath — would he notice? Why hadn’t she used condoms? That thought vanished as fast as it came — condoms with those guys? No chance. Would Jack notice the sloppy seconds? Seconds? What was she thinking? Fifths was what he was getting.
“You’re up for it tonight,” he said. “Very moist. You should keep your mind on cookery.”
She struggled, feeling guilty, desperate not to be found out but needing to come yet again just to allay suspicion.
She could fake it of course, but Jack was good at knowing that. Why did he have to be so loving and gentle? If he’d just fuck her like Chef and Errol he’d never know. She could get on top and control things, of course — but did she dare? Who knew what might leak out if she did that.
His hand crept down, playing with her again and she felt her heat rising. She wrapped an arm around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him so hard she took his breath away. Her tongue was relentless as she felt her orgasm coming. The cooks didn’t do this, they fucked her with their big cocks but Jack made love. As he pushed towards his satisfaction she felt him deep inside her. Among all the conflicting emotions running through her head, she found herself comparing cocks. Jack’s was at least as big as Chef and almost in Errol’s class.
Why was she fucking cooks when Jack was physically just as good and loved her too? Diane, that was the problem. Jack’s mother who couldn’t resist big cocks or uniforms, who egged her on and treated fucking like a sport. Did Jack know his mother was a hotwife? Did he know his dad was a cuckold?
They came almost together and an exhausted relief swept over her.
“That was so good,” she said and meant every word of it.
Jack eased himself off her, attentive to the last.
Does he know his Dad’s a cuckold? she thought, feigning sleep. Does he know he’s a cuckold? God, I hope not. Crazy thoughts ran around her head for hours while she thanked her stars that Jack had dozed off.
~~~~
It took another three weeks before Jack was certain. Amy was more careful with her knickers the next time but that was a clue as well. She leaked, so all he had to do was get a look at the evidence before her things went in the wash. After that it was simple. His dad owned the building, that’s how his mum had discovered the classes, they might even have been her idea.
No one at the place knew him so a visit, clutching an impressive clipboard ostensibly to check on fire precautions, was a pushover. He insisted on fitting new alarms. The infrared settings on the cameras detected fires but they also recorded what went on in all the rooms and they filmed in the dark too.
The third week he sat at home, logged into the alarm system and watched Amy and his mother get screwed by Chef and another guy with a big cock, Errol. It was fun to watch his own private porn film. White uniforms and black skin, big cocks and willing women, what’s not to like? Apart from being played for a fool.
He printed some pictures, saved some video and planned ahead. He checked other nights but saw nothing similar; most days Chef and Errol were too busy running the restaurant.
Did he mind? he asked himself over and over. She was enjoying herself, as was his mother. Was she likely to leave him? No — a chef in a start-up restaurant didn’t have that much pull.
She should have told him, that’s what rankled; should have asked him. It did confirm what he’d always suspected about Mum. Did Dad know? He guessed so, and maybe it suited him, left him more time to get on making money.
The next cook day, as he called it, Monday to everyone else, he was ready.
After Amy set off for the class, he got to work. He rapidly assembled the extra guest bed in the garage, putting it where his car would have sat. All the house locks were electronic, so he wiped the codes and put in new ones; he knew Amy had never learned the master default, never written it down or bothered with the details.
He put a sheet and a duvet on the bed and a small fan heater nearby. He plugged it in and checked that it worked.
Back in the house, he printed off a dozen shots of Amy fucking the cooks and copied the juiciest bits of movie. He put a spare TV and video in the garage on a table at the end of the bed, stuck the prints all over the inside of the garage door and loaded the video selection.
He locked the door from the garage into the house and bolted it on the house side. After that, he packed a bag of things to last him a week if need be. He killed all the power to everything except the heating, the garage, and the alarms. He let himself out of the darkened house and headed for his parents' place.
His dad was in the den, a movie on TV and account books all over the floor. Jack put a bunch of flowers into a vase, set them on the kitchen table and strolled along to the den.
"Hi dad," he said from the doorway.
"Hey, son, a nice surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"I’m moving back for a few days; my room still empty?" he said, turning away as he spoke.
"Uh huh."
Jack ran up the stairs, knowing that his dad never listened if the account books were opened. Jack unpacked his clothes and checked the other things he’d brought. A glance at his watch told him he had half an hour to wait before the explosions started.
He heard his mother come in. He opened the door a crack to be able to hear what happened next. She came upstairs and he heard the shower start. Ten minutes later she emerged in a bathrobe and went downstairs.
"Arthur, who are these flowers from?"
"Jack called in."
"Did he say why?" Was there a hint of anxiety in her voice?
"Sorry love, I wasn’t really listening."
Jack ambled downstairs. No call from Amy yet — another five minutes maybe. His mother had headed for the den in the basement, so Jack raided the fridge and found a beer. He listened carefully, waiting for a moment of silence and then banged the kitchen door loudly and headed back upstairs. When he was three steps from the top he waited, mother ought to see him in a moment.
He heard the door, caught a whiff of her perfume and immediately climbed the last three stairs and stepped into his room. He settled into the armchair, cracked his beer and waited.
The phone rang. Ideally, he should have found a closer spot to listen, but, assuming this was Amy, he could guess the script. Jack carried on reading his book and waited. Twenty minutes later his father appeared.
Jack smiled, closed his book and waited.
"Your mother’s upset."
"Uh huh."
"Son…"
"Are you wanting to use this room?"
"What?"
"You said Mum was upset. Is she kicking you out of the bedroom?"
"Uh, no… she wants me to talk to you."
"Talk away."
"What are you going to do?"
"About what?"
"About Amy."
"It depends. I haven’t decided, but it’s none of your business, Dad."
"Mum’s upset."
"I’m surprised."
"You’re surprised?"
"Do you know what Mum and Amy were doing?"
There was a long pause. His father looked back along the corridor towards where Jack guessed his mother was standing.
"Well… yes."
"So she tells you about it?"
His father’s frown lightened a little. He nodded.
"I guessed," Jack said, "you know. When I was a kid, I guessed."
"I thought you might have."
"It’s none of my business, Dad. That’s between you and Mum."
"But what about Amy?"
"What about Amy?"
"Your Mum’s upset. She likes Amy, they’re close. They tell each other everything."
"How do you know?" For a second Jack looked right at his father, saying nothing until he had his attention.
"How do you know, Dad? Does Amy talk to you?"
“No, no, the two of them talk. Di told me, they’re really very close, they tell each other everything.”
"Lucky Mum. You’d better go and fetch her."
"Um… I—"
"Fetch her, Dad. You and I don’t have much to talk about. I’m not trying to be awkward Dad. This is about Mum and Amy. Please go and get Mum and then leave us alone. I think this may take a while don’t you?"
His father looked relieved, business he could do, but family was a nightmare.
"Sure son. I’ll get her."
"I’ll tell you about it tomorrow Dad."
"You think it’s going to take all night?"
"It might. You comfy in the den?"
Jack relaxed back into his chair, took another swig of beer and waited. He heard voices at the other end of the house but made no effort to eavesdrop. His mother appeared a few minutes later.
"Close the door please, Mum."
She shut the door.
"Jack, what do you think you’re doing?"
"I could ask you the same question."
"What do you mean?"
"You know damn well. You tempted Amy into these cooking sessions and I bet you knew from the start you were going to get it on with Chef, whatever his name is."
"It—"
"It wasn’t like that? It wasn’t your idea? Is that what you were going to say?"
He stood, walked over to her, wrapped his arms around her, squeezed a hug but didn’t let go.
"I know Mum. I get it all," he whispered in her ear, softly, without aggression. "You fuck around and Dad lets you do it. You’ve done it for years. You thought it might be even better if Amy joined you but it wasn’t you sharing Amy, it was me." His voice in her ear hardened. "At what point did you think it was a good idea to fuck up my marriage?"
She stood, silent, stunned. She tried to push him away with her hands so that she could see him properly. He let her, but as he moved back, she realised that he’d undone the belt of her robe and his other hand had taken it off her shoulders. When there was an arm’s length between them he was holding her gown and she was standing naked.
"You’re keeping well Mum," he said.
She reached out to take the gown but he stepped away.
"Don’t. It’s more honest this way." He took another step back and sat in the armchair, still holding her robe.
“You seem to get naked for everyone else, I thought I’d see what I was missing."
“I don’t strip for everyone, don’t exaggerate.”
“My mistake mother. Good to know you have standards. Judging by recent form, it looks like some kind of uniform and a big cock is needed. Is it both or either?”
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Jack reached behind him, picked up a couple of pictures and handed them to her.
"We need to talk. I’ve told Dad not to disturb us. You’ve got him well trained, he’s gone back to his den."
"How did you get those?"
"I told the guys at the restaurant that new fire alarms were needed. Infrared enabled cameras. They take good pictures don’t they."
"Oh."
"Dad said you were worried about Amy. Don’t worry, she’ll be safe enough."
"Sleeping in the garage?"
"Safe enough. I left a heater. Of course, she can’t have a shower or change clothes, so she gets the full slut experience."
"When did you find out?"
"A few weeks back. Plenty of time to get organised."
"Why didn’t you say?"
He laughed. "I had to be sure, and then so many things fell into place."
"Like what?"
"Like what a slut you are. This wasn’t a one-off, that was so obvious. Anyone watching would know you’d done this a hundred times. Amy was nervous, but she was taking cues from you."
"She enjoyed herself."
"Yeah, I guess but would she have done anything if you weren’t there?"
There was a long silence, Diane’s gaze looking anywhere but at Jack.
"Shall I call her and ask?" he said.
"Well, you know what she’d say."
"And what would that be?"
"She’ll say what you want to hear."
"Implying that she’d lie to me?"
"Well, no, but if you put her on the spot…"
"So, what you’re saying is that I should divorce her because she’s a lying slut."
Diane burst into tears. Jack took another swig of beer and waited.
Eventually, she sobbed, "You’re cruel."
"I’m not mum. I’m trying to put my life back together while you insist on trying to screw it up. Did you want me for yourself?"
That stopped her in her tracks.
"Let me guess. Dad doesn’t do it for you. He makes a lot of money, gives you a great life but he doesn’t do it for you, so you fuck around. Fine. Not my problem, but don’t mess with me and Amy."
