A Night Out with Monica – The Morning After
A cold breeze didn’t stop the night time revellers from coming out in force. Nor did it stop the girls from wearing short seductive cocktail dresses. But Francis, who’s my paramedic technician, and I sat in the warmth of the ambulance, observing the crowds as we were trained to do.
I say observing, but most the time we’re rating the women on a scale of ten. Sexist, I know. But we’re bored men passing time until the early hours when all hell usually breaks loose.
Despite the long hours and regular night shifts, I love working as a paramedic. I’ve always liked helping people. When I was young I wanted to be a doctor. However, I’d be the first to admit I’m not quite academic enough to go the whole way. For starters, I hate studying. So being a medic is more than a good compromise. Apart from the odd aggressive drunk, people are usually more than happy to see me.
As I mentioned the one bitch about this job is working nights, spending most Friday and Saturday evenings away from my wife Semra.
The love of my life. My Persian Princess.
Semra is a rep for a pharmaceutical giant. She is young, beautiful, and ambitious. Ever since I met her at the hospital canteen seven years ago we’ve been inseparable. I am a bit older and when we met I was already set in my ways. So In Spite of her smooth olive skin, long elegant limbs and undeniable beauty, the fact she was clingy grated on me. Damn, she was almost barnacle like. But her love defeated my selfishness and now we’re inseparable.
Truth be told. When she’s away I now find myself pottering around the house like a lonely shadow… feeling sorry for myself. A sad state of affairs, I must admit. But luckily despite the fact that Semra travels across the country, she never sleeps over, even if it means spending half the night driving. She’s that sort of woman.
We both value our time together.
But tonight was different. Earlier I had gotten a phone call telling me that she had decided to stop at the hotel with her boss, Monica. They had won a big contract with a private health provider and wanted to celebrate. Now, I had met Monica several times, and to say she was charming was a fucking understatement. Has instant appeal. A real cock magnet. But after initial hesitation, I was cool with it. It was good for Semra to let her hair down. She works hard and should revel in her success.
Only there was something not quite right. A suspicion lay deep within. Something to do with our past which I had tried hard to bury, may have been unearth. God help me if it has.
Caught in a wave of thoughts, I rested my head against the door window and imagined what my wife was up to. I didn’t trust Monica. She was way too forward and confident. Francis nudged me. “Not like you to sleep on the job, boss.”
“I’m not. Just thinking.”
“Come to think of it. It’s not like you think all that much, either.”
I chuckled. “Fuck you.”
“What’s your wife doing tonight?”
“She’s working.” This was the automatic response. She was always working. “Well she was. But now she’s out with her boss.”
“She enjoys glass or two of wine. Likes the odd G&T too. She’s Muslim but relaxed about life.”
“Sorry, man. Always said she was too hot for you.”
“Again. Fuck you.” My outburst shocked me. I took a breath and calmed. “Her boss is a woman.”
“I’m not saying she’s a slut.” Francis stared through the windscreen. “But look at the mess out there. And give it a few hours and it will be carnage. A hot girl like Semra is going to have a load of men drooling all over her.”
“I trust her.”
“I trusted my ex,”
“You just haven’t met a good woman yet.” I patted his knee like a father would his child. ” Your time will come.”
My phone suddenly vibrated. A picture was waiting on WhatsApp. It was a Semra, posing with Monica. She looked cute. They both did. Semra’s smile melted my heart. It made my cock twitch.
“She’d get it.” My fist curled as I noticed Francis’ fat face peering at my phone. “The blonde. Not your Semra… although you do have a hot wife.”
“Monica has everything. Looks, intelligent but a cracking sense of humour.”
“She looks like a cock jumper though.”
“Well, she’s on husband number three.”
Suddenly a job came in through the radio. I responded. Nothing too serious. My thoughts of Semra and her hot boss were put on hold. Apparently it was a woman with a nose bleed. She had told a policeman she misread a push door for a pull one. It happens.
It was now eleven o’clock. The night was in full swing. The police patrolled the old docklands which were now home to the clubs and bars while me and Francis stood outside the ambulance. My mind should have been on the job, or at least on Francis’ small talk. But I was constantly checking my mobile.
My suspicions had been true. But I brought this on myself with past actions. Semra had informed me of her plans with Monica. That she was going to pretend to be free, single and that she was more than willing to mingle. bursa escort Nothing too bad, she had promised me.
I believed Semra, and had no major qualm. I trust my wife to play, and not break any boundaries. Slight indiscretions only ignited dark desires in me.
It’s just… I don’t trust her boss. Monica is trouble in its female form. If Semra was to get in any trouble it would be because of Monica and her harlot ways. But I couldn’t deny the excitement.
I was suddenly brought out of my thoughts by a snarling Francis. “Fuck sake, John. Since you told me your Semra is out, you’ve not left your phone alone.”
“Just checking the weather for tomorrow. While I’ve got the house to myself I thought I’d do the garden.”
“I think of better things to do with my free time.”
My heart froze as I felt my phone vibrate in my chest pocket. I didn’t want to check it while Francis was about. I needed to get rid of the fat git. So turned to my chubby tech. “Fran?”
I smiled. “Hungry?”
“Before it gets to the witching hour, fancy nipping to Geno’s and getting us a Veg Hot?” Geno’s is a pizza parlour, the best one in town and only hundred years up the street. But out of perving range for Francis. I gave him a banknote”Here’s a twenty.”
“Do I ever. Extra chilli boss?”
“Damn right. I’ll obviously call you if anything comes in.”
“And I’ll come running.”
“Waddling, Francis. Waddling.”
He smiled and gave me the finger, then waddled into the crowds like the goose he was.
I glanced down at my phone and opened the message. Semra was pouting in the arms of some young punk who must have been a little more than a student. It was harmless but, I couldn’t deny there was a pang of jealousy in me. He was handsome in a geeky way. Stylish glasses and a neat hipster beard . He didn’t have a long face though – which Semra had always told me she looked for in a man. I don’t know… ask her. But the fact I had one made me feel smug. And a little more secure.
But I couldn’t deny it continued to play on me. Gnaw away at me. Imagining this young fuck tapping up my wife. His youthful hands feeling their way around with growing confidence. All young bucks like an older woman. MILF, cougar or whatever they call it now. Semra is not quite there yet, but must have had ten years on this goon.
What was I doing to myself? What was I letting my wife do to me? Or more precise… what was I letting my wife do to others…
I would like to say that the pizza was immense. It probably was. And although I ate two slices I couldn’t really taste much. My mind, and seemingly taste buds were elsewhere.
My phone vibrated to a Facebook notification from Monica. I felt more than curious, and accepted.
I got a message, reading “You’ve got a hot wife.” I was about to type back when she shared a video. My heart sank. Francis was busy devouring his pizza. So I stepped to one side and played the video on mute. I saw a packed dance floor which then opened up to Semra, dancing solo to a group of leering men. I watched intensely as she cavorted around the group teasing each man in turn. I grimaced, clenching my fists as one of the group, a burly confident looking guy began grinding into her from behind.
I wanted it to stop. But part of me, I don’t know what, wanted it to continue. My desire had been unearthed and it was impossible to rebury. Maybe it was the fact that Semra was clearly enjoying being free. She clearly wasn’t awkward… in fact i’ve never seen her so fucking frisky.
The video ended. I wanted more, but at the same time I couldn’t bare to watch it a second time. Not now. I felt as though I was being pulled apart by my own mind. My own lust was ripping me into shreds, leaving my morals coughing and spluttering on the floor.
I didn’t really know what to reply. So I sent a big blue thumbs up. Whatever that fucking meant. I didn’t have time to think about a proper reply, anyway as Francis finally came down from his food lust.
Francis asked,”You look anxious, boss. What’s up.”
“I’ve got a feeling things are going to kick off.”
Francis had covered his face in topping. and reached into the cab for wet wipes. “What gives you that idea? I don’t think it’s overly busy tonight, for a Friday.”
“Just got that feeling in my gut.”
In the distance I saw a couple engaging in a drunken kiss. There was no romance, just animalistic passion. I thought of my Semra. Only she was no longer mine. Not for the tonight, anyway. I could deal with the student. I knew I was better. But this other guy. He looked like he could take control. Semra could be feisty, but deep down she was passive, gullible and sometimes willingly naive.
This man was a threat to me. A real one.
I needed to take my mind from the video. Ideally a job to respond to. But all I had was Francis.
“You ever been with a bird who’s got a fetish, Fran?” I asked.
“Semra wants you to wear a gimp mask, or something?
“Just answer the question.”
“A bursa escort bayan few. Why?”
I tried to sound natural. “What was the strangest?”
“I dated this Dutch girl a few years back. Wanted me to cuff her to the radiator and invite my mates around.”
“Fucking hell.” Suddenly Semra sounded tame. “Did you?”
“I cuffed her to the radiator then went the pub for a few beers. Came home and she was as angry as hell..” Francis spoke matter of factly. “I was never going to let my mates fuck my wife. So we came to a compromise. I gave her arse hell while doing her pussy with an electric toothbrush.”
“Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say. ” What happened to her?”
“In the end I couldn’t cope with her. But great girlfriend though. Best sex in my life.”
“I’m sure she was.” I saw Francis in a new light. He clearly had more in his life than just pizza and a beer gut. Nodding, I let sniggered, “I’m, sure she was, Fran.”
“So why did you ask? If Semra wants one of your mates to climb on her… I’m game.”
“No. She wouldn’t let you near her with a toothbrush.” The radio kicked in, at the same time a police officer was waving for us.
Finally a job.
Some guy had took a kicking, suffering mild concussion, three suspected broken ribs, severe bruising with minor lacerations to his left forearm. Mostly superficial. But we had to take him to A&E. Francis drove us while I monitored the patient. Although we mainly talked football.
We were back at the docklands by one thirty. I had heard nothing from Semra or Monica for three hours. Surely she wasn’t being unfaithful. I decided to text her. “Wt u been up 2? Still having fun? Luv u X”
I slipped the phone back into my breast pocket. Suddenly it started to vibrate. I immediately took it out and glanced at the screen. Picture after picture was downloading.
Semra looked more dishevelled than before. Hot, sweaty, but sexy as fuck. The first few she was with Monica, who looked more than a little tipsy. But in the next few, Semra was in the arms of some stud. I guess it was the guy she was dancing with before. He looked like a rugby player – one you shouldn’t trust with your wife. The first one he held her from behind, his hand brushing the bottom of her tits. The second was the same, but this time he was resting his lips on her cheek. In final one, Semra looked tired but satisfied. Her hair no longer perfect, messy in fact. The way she looks after sex. The picture was captioned. “Miss me?”
I called her. She answered, but the music was deafening. So i texted her “Yes. Of course i miss you.”
Suddenly a job came in over the radio. Dispatch said there were several injuries caused by a suspected mass brawl inside a restaurant. As I climbed into the ambulance I felt my phone vibrate. I desperately wanted to answer the call as it was obviously Semra. But when faced with an emergency, my job came first. So on came the blues and twos, and off we raced.
I had been on some strange jobs. A recent one being two homeosexuals cemented together, but this was the sickest, most violent. What had been reported as a mass brawl seemed more akin to something out of a Tarantino movie.The location was a upmarket Chinese restaurant and inside was a bloodbath. I’m no detective but it seemed to me to be some kind of straightener between two Mafia groups. No fatalities were evident – bodies probably moved. But there were eleven young Asian men all with deep lacerations, mainly to their arms. The police were in attendance but it goes without saying that none of the Asians would talk.
Me and Francis, along with three other crews got on with the job. And spent the rest of the night between the crime scene and the A&E.
No time for Semra.
Finally the end was upon me. The ambulance station was back-lit by a crown of flames from the virgin sun breaking the horizon. It burned an aggressive red as it was a harbinger of doom. But I shrugged off any sense of foreboding as I locked the driver’s door for the final time that shift.
However, I had no idea of what the day had in store for me.
As the adrenaline wore off, extreme fatigue set in. Autopilot guided me through the ‘end of shift report,’ then led me back to my car. As I crossed the wet tarmac of the carpark I suddenly remembered Semra. My beautiful wife. How could I forget? I pulled out my mobile and glanced at my screen.
My legs filled with concrete and I stopped in my tracks. Even my heart froze solid in my chest. The weight of the world fell on me and my tired fingers opened, dropping my kitbag onto the tarmac.
Semra’s last message, sent three hour before, read, “Shall I go home alone?” It was then followed by two missed calls.
And finally a picture message.
My thumb shivered as it hovered above ‘open.’ In years gone by I had fantasized of this moment. But now I felt a fantasy should be just that, fantasy. Something you spill into a tissue when the wife is not around. But this felt more than just uncomfortable. It felt vicious. A fucking escort bursa nightmare of my own making.
The picture burned its way into my conscious, poisoned my soul, leaving me weak at the knees.
I glared at the screen. Semra had a dick in her mouth. A big, fat dick. Not only that, but her once flawless olive skin glistened with another man’s cum.
Anger overcame me. I felt confused. Betrayed. But most of all I felt inadequate.
Why had she done this? She had never shown signs before. She was a prude. A fucking prude of all prudes. Missionary was adventurous for her and only entertained doggy on my birthday. Even in years gone by, when I divulged my debauched fantasies, she never seemed in the slightest bit interested. In fact, she told me to stop, that I was perverted. Twisted. Wrong in the head.
Now this! Her past dismissals of me used to annoy me, but now I think she was right. I was not suited to this lifestyle. Jealousy coursed my veins and burned me from the inside out.
I wanted the old Semra back. She might have been a little boring but she was a true wife. Honest, wholesome and righteous. A loving wife who would do anything for her husband. But not this. She wasn’t a cheap slut… or so I thought. I had planted the seed, and now and now she had grown into a full blown slut.
Picking up my kitbag, I longed for my old life of routine. Soup Monday to Wednesday, veg stir fry on a Thursday. Pig out on the weekends with Sunday hugs on the in bed after missionary.
That was Semra and I. Routine happiness.
As I climbed into my my car, I rested my head on the steering wheel and cried. Cried so hard that it hurt.
I drove home with my eyes burning, unable to fully concentrate on the road ahead. All I could do was imagine Semra sucking that fucking cock. Her mascara smudge across the tops of her glowing cheeks, her pupils dilated and nostrils flaring. How wreckless was her behaviour, for us, for her career. Health? Is she having a breakdown? Was she drugged? Or was it Monica? Or most likely… me?
It was mid morning. I had parked outside the house I once called home. The bedroom curtains were still closed. Which was strange. Semra was house proud and there was no way she would leave them like that without good reason. She was obviously sleeping off the night before… or the night had still not ended. My fist curled. What if the guy was still inside?
I waited for the school mums to leave the street. I didn’t want any nosey bitches being witness to the end of my marriage. Or me rolling around the front lawn with some naked guy in a fight.
Finally satisfied I was not overlooked, I stepped out of the car and stared at my house. My life was about to change forever.
In a blind rage I hurtled up the path. I didn’t want to resolve anything. I just wanted to give her a few stern words and maybe take a few potshots at her lover. But my main mission was to grab what was mine and fuck off out of there. It would be easier than kicking Semra out. I had Francis to live with… I guess Fran wasn’t that bad after all.
After slipping the key into the lock, I opened the door. I didn’t shout, and I didn’t even close the door behind me. I just wanted to catch her in the act… to see it for myself. I rushed the first steps two at a time, but then came down heavy on one of Semra’s high heels. The pain was a immense. I yelled, then instinctively rose on one foot to inspect the damage. But, unbalanced, I fell backwards down the stairs onto the tiles of to the hallway like a drunk. My world hazed over as I slipped in and out of conscious.
But at least the pain of heartbreak had dulled.
Staring at the ceiling I heard footsteps on the stairs, then heard that voice I love so much call my name in shock. “John!” I lifted my head slightly to see my Semra coming down holding her hand over her mouth. She was wearing her flimsy nightgown she only wore for sex, and I could see her pert nipples pushing against the thin fabric.
“Oh, John… you OK?”
“Am I OK?! Am I fucking OK?!” My body hurt all over. “Yeah… I’m just fucking dandy.”
“What are you doing down there?”
“I don’t know… just… I never noticed how beautiful the ceiling was. That’s all.”
“Let’s close that door, shall we..” As Semra walked past on her naked tiptoes, my eyes traveled up to long delicate legs. But as I did, she stepped over me, so my head was between her legs. I got an eyeful of her slit. She had the most perfect pussy with a neat trim of jet black hair.
“I hope you’re looking,” she said.
“Good.” She slammed the door. “I take it you saw the picture I sent?”
“I did. But I didn’t give you permission.”
“I’m so turned on John. I’ve been waiting for you to come home..”
“How could you? Sem?”
“Don’t start, John. We’re both in this together. I merely gave you what you wanted. I guess I’m not boring anymore, huh?” Semra then turn around so she was facing me, then bent her knees so she squatted on my face.
“Is this what that’s about? That stup…” My voice sounded muffled as Semra dropped to her knees and sat on my face. Her warm succulent pussy smothered my lips. I heard her groan as my words became licks while I tasted the woman who I loved.