Best Hotwife Erotica Vol.3: Caught!

by Kirsten McCurran

  It’s like the floor drops out from beneath me. My gut goes first, free fall, then my heart and my head and my consciousness. Only I’m not falling. I’m not missing a minute of what’s happening, right through the slit in this screen. Ashton pulls Kylie’s naked body close, and she slides right up against him, as his hands dip down between her legs. I have a clear, unobstructed view of another man’s fingers tracing down my wife’s landing strip, teasing her clit, and pressing two digits deep into her pussy.

  Kylie gasps, but doesn’t break the kiss. Not yet. She redoubles her passion, her fingers tightening in the hair behind his ears. Ashton plays her, his fingers dipping in and out of her as his thumb works a tight circle on her clit. She shudders, trying to hold on, trying to keep kissing.

  She isn’t able to. She throws her head back and rakes her right hand through the sweat-damp locks. Bracing back on her free arm, she loses herself in Ashton’s touch—thinking about how different his hands feel? How different he smells? How much harder he fingers her?

  Ashton dips down and takes her nipple between his lips. She cries out, arching her back to shove more soft breast into his mouth. Her second orgasm racks through her, once again leaving her panting and vulnerable.

  Ashton whips his shirt off. Beneath, he's toned and tanned, a pelt of dark hair on his well-toned chest. He's different enough from me that when Kylie fixes upon him through her long lashes and wets her lips, I taste the bitter-sweet cocktail that is the heart of this fantasy—Kylie wants a man who is not me, and what she's about to do is to satiate her own desires, not just mine.

  She lounges on her back, watching as he lowers the zipper of his jeans and pushes them down his waist. He takes his boxers with it, baring his ass to me, and his cock to my wife. Her eyes light up as she sees whatever he has to offer.

  He steps forward, holding himself. Offering himself. She takes him up on his offer, sitting up and shifting forward. I can't see what she's doing, but I don't have to guess.

  “Yes, baby, wrap those lips around it. Your mouth feels so… uhh… so good.”

  His words, as much as the subtle bob of Kylie’s body, suck the air out of my lungs. He stands, feet planted shoulder-width apart, as Kylie shifts into a seated position on the settee. She reaches down between her splayed legs and begins to rub herself in time with her blowjob.

  “Yeah, take that cock,” Ashton says. I can’t see it, but it appears that his hands move into her hair. “Take it all the way, babe. Just like old times.”

  Kylie gags, pulls back, takes a breath, and tries again. More gags. More gargles. But she doesn’t pull away again, and Ashton, with his legs firmly rooted to the ground, looks up at the ceiling and barks out an, “Oh fuck, yeah!”

  He thrusts forward. Kylie chokes again, but stays with the blowjob. Feels like my eyes are on the verge of popping out of my head. I’ve never been so rough, so forceful, and Kylie’s never just taken it. Not like this. Only, she is, and the fingers of her left hand are a blur as they rub her clit.

  Ashton’s laugh is gruff, and I hear the edge in it. He’s just barely holding on. “You always loved sucking cock, Kylie.”

  It’s not a statement I would have made about my wife, but then again, I didn’t know her back in school.

  “I still remember that time Bryce and I shared you. I bet you still think of that, too.”

  The hits keep coming. She had a threesome? With two guys? Kylie doesn’t betray whether she’s thought of that or not. Not verbally. But her fingers work faster, working her pussy harder than I would have felt comfortable doing.

  “Yeah, you do,” Ashton says. “Your husband have any clue how dirty you are, deep down?”

  If I could have seen her face, I know she would have chanced a glance at me. Instead, she pulls back, pulls out of his grasp. She raises her left hand, coated in her wetness, and pumps him with both fists. Her voice is raw, scratchy. “Oh, he knows. Pretty sure of that.”

  She dips forward, sucks his length, and pulls back. “We know how to have a good time.”

  “With a wife like you, how could you not?”

  Kylie laughs. “If I swallow your come, you going to have anything left?”

  Her question, so direct, so raunchy, drives me wild.

  “With you? Fuck yeah. You’re not leaving until I dip my cock in that pretty pussy of yours.”

  “Mmm, then give me your come, Ash. Come for me, baby.”

  She leans forward, again out of my view. I will them to turn, so I can see her finish him off, but Ashton is back in control, his hands in her hair, his hips driving forward. “Fuck. Fuck!” he groans, rolling his shoulders back. I can just barely see his jaws clench, the muscles in his neck tightening. “Here it comes, baby. Take it. Take it all!”

  Their wild movements stop, freeze. Kylie’s fingernails dig into his buttocks as she takes Ashton’s load in her mouth, swallowing every drop.

  She sits back when he’s through, and at last I see her face again. She glances at me, making sure I see the trail of come glisten on her chin before she scoops it up and licks her fingers clean.

  “Yummy,” she says.

  Ashton stretches, washes his hands across his face, and reaches for his camera again. As he does so, I see his nakedness for the first time. It’s hard to get a gauge on his size, semi-soft as he is, but he’s no slouch. The fact that he’s shaved himself bare only adds to the illusion of his size.

  “Now that that’s out of the way,” he says, “let’s get to the truly erotic nudes, yeah?”

  Kylie laughs. “I’m not a pornstar.”

  “You sure suck dick like one.” My wife rolls her eyes, and Ashton lets it go. “I don’t shoot porn, either. You know me well enough, right? But you’re too hot to pass up, all sweaty and mussed like that. What do you say?”

  “No shots of my face,” Kylie says, already starting her first pose.

  ~~~

  They shoot for about fifteen minutes, actually behaving professionally, despite both of them being completely naked. Ashton’s cock hardens over that period, growing rigid as he pries into her private life. With me.

  “You and your husband ever invite another guy into bed?” he asks as she poses on all fours, her ass raised, one hand reaching down between her legs.

  “No,” Kylie says. Then adds, “Not yet.”

  “If you go there, you know how to get in touch with me.”

  “What makes you so sure he’d be into that?”

  Ashton laughs. “Pretty sure you could convince him. Maybe he’d be into it.”

  Kylie glances slyly in my direction. “Maybe…”

  Ashton puts his camera down. “If he’s not, then we can always find a third.”

  “If I didn’t know better, sounds like you’re more interested in bringing another guy in than you are in me.”

  “On the contrary. Watching how into it you get when you fuck another man is one of my fondest memories of you.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  Still on her hands and knees, she glances down at Ashton’s cock and changes the subject. “You going to fuck me with that thing yet?”

  “Just waiting for the lovely lady to ask. I’m a gentleman, remember?” He moves into place behind her, and I realize just how perfectly Kylie has set the situation up.

  “I almost forgot,” she says, lowering her head and shoulders to the cushioned bench so that she can look directly at me as Ashton settles in behind her. He only needs to bend his knees slightly to line his cock up. “Now stick that gentlemanly cock into my lady-like pussy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  With his hand on his shaft—which is slightly longer than mine, but not quite as thick—he presses it against her thighs. I have exactly the right angle to see it part her waxed lips. Her lips part, gasping, her tongue peeking out between her teeth. She winks at me as Ashton presses forward, sinking into her.

  Her eyes flutter shut as she loses herself in another man’s cock for the first time in years. “Oh, Ash, t
hat’s so… uhhh…” I can’t tell if it’s for me or for him. Doesn’t matter. It hits me like a bolt of electricity.

  He grabs her hips, thumbs pressing into her cheeks, and tugs her back. Her ass practically hangs off the bench as he starts riding her, his pelvis striking her ass in hollow, wet claps.

  “Oh, Ash!” Her bob catches in her lipstick, a tangled, sweaty mess. “Fuck…me!”

  “You still like it hard?”

  “Uhhh…”

  He grabs her arms, right at the elbows, and pulls her body toward him. She arches back, letting him manhandle her, letting him bend her like an archer would a bow, all the while throwing his cock into her harder and harder.

  I watch her face, tight with ecstasy. She’s entered the moment, lost to the world and everything around her but the drive of this man’s cock and the way he bends and uses her body. Sweat dapples Ashton’s skin, turning it slick and glossy. He doesn’t relent. Not until he’s forced another climax from Kylie’s willing body.

  He pulls free from her, stepping back while she’s still a panting, post-orgasmic mess, and flips her over. Cock in hand like a warrior with his weapon, he mounts the bench and slides in between her parted knees. She lifts a leg—the one opposite me—and hooks her heel over his shoulder as he lines his cock up against her swollen pussy.

  This time, I see it all in glorious detail. The room, from here to there, isn’t very large, yet because of who I’m watching, because of what I’m watching, it feels an ocean away. Like this isn’t real. Or it’s being covered on television.

  Kylie brings me right back into the scene with a simple, quick glance in my direction, and the tiniest of smiles. She doesn’t wink, but I feel like she has. Warmth washes through me. I mouth, I love you, even though I know she can’t see me where I'm hiding. I can’t stop smiling, even as she turns her attention back to Ashton and their eyes lock.

  The shyness is gone. That pretense of being coy swept away with her orgasms and the intimacy of this moment. She was never hesitant—only pretended to be—but now she’s eager. To feel another man fuck her. To take another man’s cock deep.

  They continue to stare at one another as he enters her, and despite how wrong and exciting it is to see Ashton’s shaft stretch Kylie’s pussy, it’s that eye contact that I can’t stop watching. It’s the eye contact that changes this scene from porn to a thing of art.

  Erotic art, for sure. Incredible, amazing—sometimes challenging to stomach—art, but erotic to its scintillating core.

  Ashton doesn’t fuck her as hard or as uncontrolled as he had when he’d held her elbows back, but he takes her in a more thorough and deliberate way than I normally do. His hips don’t just drop, but roll. If this were music, he is more violin than drum.

  And Kylie loves it. Soon, she can’t keep her eyes open, seemingly lost in the feeling of newness—or perhaps memory, nostalgic and refreshing. Ashton never looks away. He grips the back of her thigh against his chest, staring down at her, watching her orgasm build once again. He stares at her with an artist’s intensity, and it frightens me as much as it turns me on. Kylie might be lost in the physicality of the moment, and the echo of its past, but Ashton is thinking of what could have been. My reality is his wistful fantasy.

  Kylie comes in a taut arch, her ass in the air, all the weight on her shoulders and nape of her neck. Ashton holds her, fucks her, doesn't relent. I get the sense that this is the way he attacks life in general—more passion and action than planning and thought, the ego to my id.

  “Fuck, Kylie, you're so amazing,” he groans.

  Kylie’s eyes flash open. “Don't come inside me.”

  “But I'm so close—”

  She doesn't negotiate. She just uncoils from him and twists low, sucking his dick deep. A few bobs and he's there, emptying his balls once again into her welcoming mouth.

  It's time for me to leave, while the aftermath of sex still rings in their ears. In a couple of minutes, reality will return, and they will have to deal with the “consequences.” I don't have to worry about that. I know my wife will be returning home to me, and that there will not be any clandestine arrangements to meet up again and repeat.

  Or if there are, I'll know all about it. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

  So I leave, sneaking back out into the gallery, where light streams too brightly through the front windows. Seems wrong.

  I can't lock the front doors on my way out, but have to hope that the “Closed” sign keeps people from stumbling in. Not that I give it much thought. I'm too busy thinking about how I feel about a next time.

  A part of me likes the idea, but in the way that I'd want another Martini if I was already drunk on them. It's not a good idea, not a responsible one, but I'm still tempted.

  I don't have an answer, even after I climb into my car. My phone buzzes. A text message. From Kylie.

  [Kylie] You still up for dinner? I'm starving. ;)

  I can’t help but laugh.

  ~~~

  The proofs arrive a couple weeks later. The clean ones. Ashton’s email simply reads, “Enjoy!” We open the attached images together.

  “He’s very good,” I say as we click through photo after photo. Like the ones from college, these are all black and white. Most of them are close-ups, detailing Kylie’s beauty in ways that I normally miss. Like the way she sometimes rubs her neck when she’s tired, or the smile lines that form when she smirks—that photo is a tight shot of just her mouth and the lower half of her face.

  “He’s made his living doing this. I should hope so,” Kylie says.

  “Did he send you...the others yet?” My heart trembles even as I ask, like I’m worried or something.

  “Yeah,” she says, her voice sing-song. “I should warn you, though, things got pretty heated during the shoot.”

  We share a laugh. “You didn’t do anything naughty, did you?”

  “Maybe.”

  We’ve talked since that photo shoot. A lot. We barely made it through that dinner together, racing home to make love, to reconnect, to prove to one another that despite the illicit sex with another man, we still loved one another.

  He’s reached out to her since, flirted with her through text, even tried to hook up again. She showed me all their communications, including the way she flirted back, but she never went, always putting him off. “Maybe we’ll do it again, in another fifteen years,” was the closest to hope that she gave him.

  We open the racier set together, too. The nudes. As promised, the nudes don’t show her face, but it’s unmistakably my wife. I know the slope of her breasts, the way her nipples puff up when she grows excited. I recognize the birthmark on her hip and, more erotically, the style of her wedding band as it covers her thin landing strip.

  “You want to see him again?” I ask. It’s not the first time I’ve asked her, and I’m pretty certain that it won’t be the last.

  She gives me the answer she always does. “I don’t need to.”

  “But do you want to?”

  She advances the photos without answering. The last one is the only one that is clearly, unmistakably, Kylie, and while it’s just a portrait, showing nothing from the neck down, it’s one of the sexiest of the set.

  Her hair is damp, her bangs messy and plastered to her forehead. Eyes shut, mouth parted in a gasp, she touches her cheek with her left hand—her ringed hand—as she rides what must be the lingering waves of an orgasm.

  It’s a photo that captures both the free spirit of a younger Kylie and the more refined beauty of the Kylie who sits next to me now.

  “She wants more,” I say.

  Kylie turns in my lap and puts her arms around my neck. “You think so?”

  I glance around her, taking in the ecstasy of that moment, then I look back to her and nod. “It’s caught. Right there. No point in denying it.”

  She kisses me softly. “I guess anything is possible.”

  brooke’s revenge

  by kirsten mccurran

&nbs
p; “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted, barely resisting the urge to throw my beer at the television.

  “What can you do, brother? Ryan is on fire this season. He can’t miss,” Carter said, grinning. He didn’t even try to hide his glee at seeing his team trouncing mine.

  “It doesn’t help that our secondary is shit. Carroll is playing so far off the receivers; I could have caught that pass.”

  “It’s just not your year. It’s pretty obvious at this point. You’ve got too many holes on your team. At least you’ve got a young stud QB you can build off of, right?”

  “You don’t need to try and make me feel better,” I said.

  “You’ll be okay, buddy. There’s always next year. I’ll have you guys over for a party when we’re kicking ass in the playoffs.”

  “Thanks. I can’t wait. I’m empty. Do you need another beer?”

  “Sure,” he replied.

  His gloating aside, I liked Carter a lot. He was a cool guy and an awesome neighbor. We’d really lucked out when we moved in across the street from him. Not only were Brooke and I new to the neighborhood, we were new to Kingston, moving halfway across the country because of a job transfer. That had been a year of big changes for us, and challenging at times to our young marriage. In the couple years we’d been living across the street from Carter, we’d become better and better friends, and it seemed like he was over all the time.

  I ran out to the kitchen, turning on lights as I went, because it was getting dark. Brooke was out with her friend Stacey, and I was surprised she wasn’t home yet. She wasn’t much of a football fan, so when Carter came over to watch games she usually found something else to do.

  “Are you ready to concede this game yet?” Carter asked, after taking a beer from me when I returned.

  “I guess. There’s no way we’re mounting a comeback now.”

  The score was 27-3, halfway through the fourth quarter. There was no coming back from that, even if we were a better team.

  “Don’t be so glum. It could be worse, you could have bet money,” Carter said.