Playing the Fool

Playing the Fool
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

Crouched in a closet for two hours, I had plenty of time to think about what I was doing. The initial excitement of sneaking into the house by the back way, being led upstairs by Walters, the quick sizzle of anticipated pleasures as I paused for a moment to stare at a portrait of the lovely Misses Walters on the wall of the ascending staircase, that first wave of surreptitious thrill quickly wore off as I knelt within the stale curtain of Walters’ fine wool trousers. At best, waiting in the dimly lit space for two hours that seemed almost eternal, I felt foolish.

There was one period, sometime after the first hour had ended when I began to feel markedly ashamed. I had dared to venture out of my hiding place, confident I could quickly regain cover should the hall light come on, driven by a desperate thirst to search for something to drink. I crept into the Walters’ bathroom, a veritable shrine of ostentatious tile and light, thinking perhaps I could find a Dixie cup dispenser to quench my parched throat. I guess it should have come as no surprise to find there were no paper cups in this luxurious jacuzzi and shower stall lounge suite. It was when I began opening the cabinets, desperate for something cup like to help satisfy my thirst, that I began to writhe in embarrassment. Shame struck me hard when I opened the doors beneath the sink and faced a bevy of feminine toiletries. As to the intimacy of her body, Elise just seemed too ripe for mere respect to keep my curiosity at bay. The privacy of her bath, well, that was just another thing entirely.

I took the cap from the top of her hairspray can and wiped it with a piece of tissue. I held it under the faucet, but as I prepared to turn the handle, I grew nervous. I did not know the house well enough to feel confident that the sound of running water upstairs wouldn’t betray my presence. I weighed, for a brief time, the dry ache of my mouth against the maelstrom that might follow a short sip of water. I replaced the cap on the hairspray carefully, after eyeing the small pool of toilet water for a twisted moment. I had sunk low, admittedly, but not quite that far.

Their bedroom was quite large, with a tall oak cabinet housing a television and stereo as well as a few volumes of sleepish reading material and, to my delight, several bottles of quality liquor. I turned the cap on a bottle of Scotch and took a long drink. The well aged alcohol bit my tongue and softened my breath. With a clunk that frightened me, I replaced the bottle and scurried back into my hole,

where I cowered for ten minutes listening to my heart beat. Being truly uninformed about the exact extent of the caution our enterprise required was the thing that really frightened me. I chided myself for jumping into this ploy with so little regard for the risks. Reason really has no sway in the face of tempestuous emotions.

It wasn’t my idea. I had been sitting on the terrace with Walters; discussing the deal we had just signed, comparing our vacation experiences in the Keys, amusing ourselves at the expense of one of our associates who was on his way to serving five to ten at a government resort. Elise had walked past us on her way to the pool. Although I had spent several hundred hours at the Walters’ place, I had only rarely seen Misses Walters and never before in anything as revealing as the terrycloth robe briefly draped over her black one-piece suit.

“You have a lovely wife,” I said politely. Walters looked over to watch Elise as she began her descent down the steps to the poolside. He beamed with pride, a bright youthful glow literally radiating from his slightly wrinkled face. Walters is probably ten years older than I am. Elise Walters is probably ten years younger than me.

“That she is,” he said, almost drooling as she took off her robe. I smiled at the gentleman’s overt display of lusty affection for such a pearl, and allowed myself the luxury of a leer. Her shy reserve, attached as it was to such a voluptuous figure, made her doubly attractive as I studied the tight grip of spandex across her young breasts, the slight indent as her spine succeeded to the valley between the spheres of her backside. I sighed with faint appreciation as she dove elegantly into the water below.

“Would you like to see her?” he asked. I looked at him curiously. “Naked, I mean.” I wondered if this rather provocative question was meant to be a trick or a riddle or anything other than it seemed to be. I went out on a limb.

“That would be sweet,” I said, watching Elise emerge from the water.

Walters laid out the plan. I knew fairly soon that I was not the first to listen to the proposal, and as I stared at the profile of the quiet Misses Walters’ succulent bosom, I knew I wouldn’t be the first to accept.

“So you’ll be hiding in the closet with the video camera and I’ll bring her up to the bedroom. I’ll persuade her to undress with some style. It is a vision I think you will appreciate. I’ll make love to her, showing her to advantage as best I can, and when the thing is finished,

we’ll fashion a way to get you out. You’ll get a chance to witness her beauty, and I’ll get the video tape.”

“What if I get caught?” I asked.

“You won’t,” he said seriously. “Elise is too shy and reserved. She would be absolutely mortified if she knew I was taking such explicit film of her. I know I take a terrible risk, but I can’t bear to let her beauty fade unrecorded. Someday, perhaps, she will leave me for someone younger, someone more like her. At least then, I will have my videos to remind me of my nights in paradise. But she must never know. You must swear to me that you will not allow yourself be caught.”

I promised. What else could I do?

“Besides,” he said, smiling and leaning back to watch Elise as she bounced on the diving board, “she’s really not very bright. She can be easily fooled.”

The hall light came on. I lifted the small grey camera and turned on the power. I had enough experience with video cameras to know that the one Walters had provided me with was a beaut. I checked my view from within the shadows of the open closet door and smiled. Every reservation I had felt before dissolved in the sound of approaching footsteps. Elise Walters was a magnificent beauty and I was suddenly quite eager to see her in action. I unzipped my trousers in anticipation.

She followed him into the light. Her high round cheeks were gently tinted with a faint blush as he led her into their bedroom. Studying her delicate smile through the view finder, I melted. Every time I looked at her, she seemed prettier. Her golden mane fell lazily past her ears, looping over her shoulders. Blue-grey eyes swam with calm delight and bathed the old man with a soft, loving gaze. She wore a long black dress that sparkled in the muted lights.

Walters took off his dinner jacket, draped it over the back of a chair and settled on a small loveseat a few yards from my vantage point. Elise slunk toward him, her fertile hips swaying with each step in a campy, deliberate fashion. She turned to flick on the stereo. Her bottom, a succulent bulge in the lean lines of the dress, drew my lens. A sultry dance number filled the bedroom and Elise began to move.

“You are exquisite,” said Walters happily.

“Thank you,” Elise said softly. Placing her half-emptied glass of wine on an end table, she turned her back to her husband. “Unzip me, please?” she asked. Walters reached up to drop the faint black zipper.


The dress fell slowly from her shoulders, while Elise turned slightly to smile and step away. Her pale back teased my thoughts as the wings of her shoulder blades drew back and her hands released the rest of the zipper’s hold. The fabric slipped in a sudden liquid motion down her waist and over her hips to settle in a dark shimmering puddle at her feet. Elise stepped out of her dress. As she turned, I focused at once on her full, naked breasts. Light pink at first, her nipples quickly tightened into red-brown knots at the limits of her creamy white tits. Elise shook them, letting them sway with a slow pulsing rhythm. My prick grew uncomfortably rigid and I adjusted my position to let my stiffness feel the fresh air.

Elise wore black satin panties over garters; her lean legs were encased in dark silk stockings. The bulge of her ass under the panties made me lick my dry lips. Elise had a high, firm butt and virginal white thighs in the narrow span between satin and silk. I framed the video with all the skill I knew, paying close attention to every possible moment of interest, scaling from the full length beauty of the half-naked goddess to the fine details of pale curls escaping the crimped edge of her undergarments. Elise danced exquisitely, seductively, enchantingly. She slowly pushed her panties down, and I did not breathe during a single frame.

Elise has a beautiful pussy, with a delectable admixture of pink, white, red and gold, a faint crease hidden in a plush down of sunlight, swelling with each step into arousal. She turned, her legs slightly spread and bent to press her thick damp lips back, soft with fine hair, wet with the trickle of her juice, teasing with the unfurling of her tiny wings, the quick wink of her bottom. I stroked my prick as I watched her move, trying desperately to keep the camera on target and steady while I wanked myself at a furious pace.

Elise lay back on the bed and spread her long legs wide, rubbing her stiff clitoris with a pleasured abandon. I aimed my picture at the widening gap of Elise’s raging hot cunt and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The phone rang.

Walters answered the phone. Elise leaned up on her arms, her legs still spread and dangling over the edge of the bed.

“Hello,” he said gruffly. “What? No. I told you, already. No. I should hope not. All right. Give me ten minutes.” Walters slammed down the phone. “Dammit,” he said. Picking up his jacket, Walters leaned over and kissed Elise, fondling her damp snatch as he did. “I have to run some papers over to Graham,” he said. “Twenty minutes.” Elise sat up. “Don’t you go anywhere,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be right

back.” Walters went toward the door. Elise dropped back down on the bed with a moan.

“Hurry,” she said, pleading.

Walters looked at me and held up his hand as if to tell me to wait patiently. “I will,” he said to Elise and departed.

“I’m going to go crazy,” Elise said as she rubbed her pussy. I turned the camera back on and focused on her. Pulling herself fully onto the bed, Elise lifted her bottom off the bed and teased herself. She squeezed her breasts, pushed a finger into her cunt and then tentatively into her ass.

“Ooh!” she groaned, sitting up. Her nipples, once quite large had grown tiny on the ends of her bobbing breasts. “He’s lucky I’m so patient.” Elise stood up and walked toward the closet. I shrunk back into the shadows. She picked up her wine glass and smiled.

“You might as well come out,” she said. “He won’t be back for a while.”

I held my breath and kept perfectly still. Shame flushed my face. Elise turned her smile and stared directly at me.

“You must be uncomfortable,” she said. “C’mon out.”

Giving up, I pushed myself off the floor and emerged. Elise took a drink, smiling under the glass.

“Steve,” she said gaily, “I wondered if it was you. Thanks for the applause.” Her eyes were fixed on my crotch, where my prick still throbbed.

“I didn’t,” I began, at a complete loss for words.

“It’s all right. I think it’s sexy. Earl really gets off on it, and I think the whole thing is really flattering.” Elise giggled, shaking her still bare breasts. I sat down.

“Can I have a drink?” I asked. “I feel so stupid. He told me you would kill him if you found out.” Elise offered me the last swig of her wine. I drank it down greedily.

“Earl doesn’t know I know. He has this image of me. I don’t mind. He’s a sweet man. Even if he does underestimate me.”

“I’ll be damned.”

“Do you want some more?” she asked, taking the glass from my hand. I could smell the heat of her pussy as she stepped close. I nodded. Elise walked over to one of the oak cabinets and knelt down. Her white ass glistened. Opening a small refrigerator, she withdrew a bottle of wine. I watched intently as Elise sank a corkscrew in the top, staring as her efforts to open the bottle shook her full breasts. She poured the glass, took a drink and then brought it over to me.


“Does this, I mean, how many times has this happened?” I asked nervously as Elise sat down on the love seat beside me.

“Oh, I don’t know. Six times. It’s always been fairly obvious. Earl’s charade to set these scenes up is pretty lame. I don’t know if I ever would have noticed if you guys didn’t, you know, start jerking off, but one glimpse of that and I know exactly what’s going on.”


“It is sexy,” she said, taking back the glass. “Earl’s pretty careful about who he hides in the closet and I get to play shy and wild all in one night.”

“You’re great,” I said, probably looking at her tits.

“Thank you,” she said shyly. “You know, we have a few minutes. Maybe I could stretch the wild side a little further.”

My prick jumped to attention.

“Mmm,” said Elise, sliding down onto the floor. She leaned forward to kiss my dick when I jumped. A door slammed downstairs.

Elise turned too quickly and smashed the wine glass against the wooden frame of the loveseat. My heart stopped for a second.

“Shit,” she said. A small cut graced the palm of her left hand.

“Here,” I said, pulling her into the bathroom and running some water. “Wash it off.” I opened the cabinet and knowingly pulled out a box of bandages. I blushed as I fixed the adhesive strip to her hand. I kissed her hand and scurried back into the closet.

“Pumpkin,” said Walters, entering the bedroom. Elise strolled out of the bathroom, deliciously naked and overtly seductive.

“Look,” she said, offering her wounded hand for his inspection. “I cut myself.”

“I told you to be patient,” he said, kissing the bandage and smiling. “Did you think I wouldn’t come back?” Elise reached down to fondle his cock under his trousers.

“No,” she said, “I knew you’d be back.” She slipped down the zipper and knelt before her husband. I focused carefully as she brought the thick staff to her lips. Walters had a good sized cock. It gave me a sense of satisfaction, watching her suck on his sturdy pole. At least she had that.

Walters stripped down as he maneuvered her over to the bed and began to plough her fields. They twisted around in every possible position which could offer the closet an interesting view of Elise. I bit my lip as I watched the couple fuck. It felt different, strange, taping the sequence, knowing that both of them knew I was there. Worse than that, by the time she was riding him, bouncing her tits in time to her

beat, smiling and moaning toward me, I wanted her badly. It made me ache, watching her and wanting her, while watching her fuck another less-than-perfect man.

Their love play went on for an hour or more, and I faithfully rolled the camera. She moaned wildly and then he groaned and he splashed her with his wet spurts. I turned off the camera. They cuddled for a long minute and finally she rose to go into the bathroom. Elise winked at me as she turned to go.

“Bye,” she mouthed.

The door snapped shut and I rose. Walters scurried over to me and took the camera. He dropped it into his sock drawer and took my arm as he led me out.

“That was great,” he whispered excitedly.

“Fantastic,” I said. We stepped into the hallway and he closed the bedroom door.

“We’ll have lunch,” he said. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Yeah,” I said, anxious to get out of there. Walters took hold of my sleeve.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, pointing to a spot of blood on the cuff of my white shirt.

“Stuck myself,” I said, grasping at straws. “There’s a bare nail in the floor.”

“Oh,” said Walters. “That hurts.”

“Yeah,” I said, starting down the stairs. “Ouch.”

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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