Eventually I sat up, wanting more. She sat up too, just looking confused, unsure whether I hated her or adored her for what she’d done.
“Is he good in bed?” I asked her.
“Uh… I suppose…” she said, one hand drifting back to the granite-hard shaft of my cock as though that was the safest place for it.
“You can tell me,” I insisted. “You should tell me. We can’t keep secrets from each other.”
“No,” she said, and for a moment I thought she was refusing to open up about her affair. Then she said, “No secrets. You’re right.”
I stretched out on my back. “So?”
She climbed onto me, looking remorseful, but unable to resist the huge erection now lodged between her thighs. “He was good in bed,” she said.
“Is good in bed,” I corrected her.
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t get it. You want me to keep seeing him?”
I smiled. “I never would have thought it,” I tried to explain, “But do you know how sexy it is that you’re unfaithful?”
She smiled, but puzzled. “You want me to keep… being unfaithful?”
I shrugged, and as I felt her fingers positioning my stiffness so that the tip pressed up against her hot, wet pussy, I said, “You feel how hard it makes me?”
She groaned as she sank down on me, as I filled her, as I stretched her. “Oh… God… I feel like it’s…. It’s never been like this before…”
I reached up to cup her breasts in my palms as she stirred her hips to get used to the size of the intruder within. Wow. She felt incredible around my sensitive pole, her heat, her wetness. It seemed like maybe it wasn’t merely her lubrication making it so easy for me to slide so deep inside her.
“So…” she said, “does this mean… you get to see other women?”
I could see on her face she didn’t like that idea. It made her sad, despite the fact that she’d been seeing another man. But I thought about other women I knew in the neighborhood, at work, even in the media and the world of celebrity, and the thought of sleeping with any of them just didn’t compare to the arousal that came from knowing my naughty wife was cheating on me.
“Why would I want anyone else?” I asked her. “I have a beautiful wife, who turns me on like crazy by sleeping around.”
She laughed, uneasily, but started to gyrate her hips over me, riding my hardness. “You know how crazy you sound?” she said.
“Does it feel crazy, what you have inside you right now?” I grinned.
“Yes—totally!” She leaned down to kiss my mouth, and a mass of her golden hair escaped her pony tail to spill over my face like fallen silk. Her kiss was so tender, so affectionate, so sweet. Grateful that I wasn’t throwing her out for her misdeeds, amazed that I viewed her adultery in such an unusual way. Adoring how much I obviously loved her, even after these years of a stuttering love life.
“It doesn’t seem fair, she said as she rode me. “You want me to keep seeing Tom… but I think about you seeing another woman and it makes me sick.”
I chuckled. “I don’t know… I just want you… I want to know you’re being naughty with someone else when you’re not with me. Maybe I want to watch it when I can.”
“This is like porn to you,” she teased me.
“Maybe. I like watching. And the way it makes me feel, watching you…”
She picked herself up as though showing herself to me, presenting herself on all fours like some beast at auction. Posing for me until I caught what she wanted, lined up and slid back inside her from behind.
“I’m not sure how Tom would feel about being watched,” she said.
“Then you can just tell me what happens. Every detail.”
“Like the fact that today was the first time he ever fucked me without a condom?” she asked me.
She made me come, just by saying that. Spurting thick jets of hot oil deep within her. It made her laugh, though she was so on edge after an afternoon full of sex, that it also took her over into a full and powerful orgasm.
I felt like such an animal, holding her hips and pounding into her as I came so hard. An animal responding to the challenge of another male by fucking my mate as hard as I could.
“Shit, I have to go pick up the kids!” she said when we finally disentangled, breathless.
“Shit, I have to catch my flight!”
We hopped in the shower, only we still weren’t in much of a rush. I washed her, and she washed me, and we paid particular attention to each other’s erogenous zones.
“When are you seeing him next?” I asked her.
“Probably when we next drop off the kids at nursery.”
I nodded. “Okay. Your punishment for lying to me, for keeping this affair from me for two weeks…”
“Yeah?”
I said, “You’re going to make sure I can watch every moment of when you sleep with Tom. I don’t care if he knows or if you keep him in the dark. But I get to see everything.”
She sighed, but as my cock started to grow hard again in her hands, she smiled and said, “I guess I don’t have much of a choice…”
wages of sin
by ben boswell
I.
It was supposed to be a one-time thing. We needed money for a down payment on a house. I was responsible for negotiating a contract with a Russian software developer on a short-term project. I took a bribe, negotiated crappy terms, and pocketed $30,000 for my troubles. How was I supposed to know the deal would turn into an on-going relationship, with contracts worth millions, and my company getting the short end of the stick on each extension? Still, the diversions to my personal bank account helped assuage my guilty conscience. Nine months later, I was over a quarter of a million dollars richer.
My wife, Lana, was never really keen on the whole thing. I couldn’t keep it from her, of course. And slowly, I guess, I corrupted her. She loved the house we could now afford. I plied her with granite countertops and emerald pendants, expensive vacations and glorious clothes. Each gift though accompanied by a promise that I would extricate myself from this madness, though over time I took that less seriously, in part because as the gifts multiplied, Lana seemed to become more amorous. It was as if she was, sort of, getting off on the whole thing.
Alan, my boss, made it easy for me as well. Not the deception, per se, because he’s a tough, careful motherfucker. Real strategic. Always thinking three steps ahead. But the morality of the theft. He’s a cheap ass, stingy with both praise and money. I’d looked for other work, but our field is pretty insular. Everyone knows everyone else, and I was pretty sure Alan was subtly sabotaging my job search.
The thing is, it was hard to get people to see the real him. Handsome guy, with a dimpled smile, and a mop of wavy brown hair, he used that attractive facade to hide his real personality. But I’d been watching him long enough to see through it, though I too was slow to come around. For my first couple of years, I’d make excuses for him. He was under a lot of stress. He was just being a tough negotiator. That’s the way successful people operate.
The real turning point for me was after a Christmas party a year and a half ago. Lana had dressed to the nines, which is actually pretty easy for her, since she has a killer body and for the most part the clothes just need to stay out of the way. She was wearing a tight, sparkly silver club dress and four inch, spiked heels. Her thick dark, brown hair was swept dramatically to one side, her full lips glistened, and a silver filigree necklace dropped down into her generous cleavage. The idea was to turn heads, and she did, none more so than Alan’s. The problem is that Alan’s head didn’t just turn, it fixated. He watched my wife hungrily throughout the evening, and anytime I excused myself to get another drink or go take a leak, by the time I’d come back he’d be draped over her in a private conversation.
Lana found it amusing, both his attention and my obvious jealousy. She thought I was “overreacting,” and being “silly.” Should I have mentioned to her the rumors that he’d banged other
employee’s spouses? Or my suspicion that the series of business trips he sent me on shortly thereafter were designed to get me out of the country so he could make a move on my wife?
So, am I saying I robbed from my boss before he had the hots for my wife? Not exactly. But then again, sitting in a hotel room in Moscow, worrying about the possibility that he was seducing her while I was halfway across the world made me open to the offer when it came my way.
II.
“Why are we going to dinner with Alan? You hate him.” Lana was putting in a pair of diamond studs.
I sighed. “He was insistent. Said something about how he missed you at the Christmas party this year.”
She chuckled. “I told you it was a bad idea to skip that.”
I groaned. “He’s less likely to make a pass at you over dinner…. I think.”
“Oh God, Rick, not that again.”
I shook my head, but didn’t respond. No point in revisiting that. Especially since the last time we’d talked about it, we’d gotten perilously close to an actual fight about it. The thing is… that night at the party, it had almost felt like she was inviting his attention.
What was I supposed to do, kick him in the nuts?
No, of course not. But maybe not smile so wide. Or put your hand on his forearm. Or thrust your chest out to accentuate your cleavage. Of course, I didn’t say any of those things. Nor did I mention that the red, halter strap number she had on for our dinner with him might be a little risqué.
~~~
He’d made reservations at Jean Charles, elegant, classic French. It had recently undergone a renovation and they’d managed to upgrade the atmosphere from stuffy to classy. He was waiting for us in a circular booth.
He gave Lana a kiss on the cheek, his eyes momentarily disappearing into her cleavage. I tried to maneuver it so that I was between them, but he just swung around to the other side of the table. Our eyes met. Check. I bit my tongue, and recalled my last statement from the Cypriot bank where my kickbacks were deposited. Fuck him.
He ordered a round of champagne. When it arrived he raised his flute.
“To friends and colleagues.”
“To friends and colleagues,” Lana echoed.
I muttered along.
We looked at our menus.
“Try the oysters,” he leered at Lana.
She giggled. “And why is that?” Almost encouraging it.
He smirked.
“Thanks for inviting us out,” I interjected. “Are you having dinners with the entire senior staff?”
He shook his head. “No, just with the most loyal.”
I swallowed hard. A veiled reference to the feelers I’d been putting out for months? Surely he couldn’t know about the money.
Lana flashed me a look, equal parts concern and annoyance. We weren’t even spending the money anymore. Just letting it pile up. And still, I couldn’t seem to put a stop to it.
I glared at Alan. He smiled broadly… too broadly.
“Those are lovely earrings, Lana. I must be paying Rick too much.”
I forced a laugh. “She has me wrapped around her little finger.”
“I should think so,” he replied.
The waiter returned. We ordered. Lana got the oysters. Alan smirked again. A bottle of white arrived.
“So,” Alan asked, “how is the Berynski project going?”
The Russia deal. “We’re going to talk business?” I asked.
Lana helped out. “Would you boys like me to excuse myself?”
“Never,” Alan replied quickly. “You’re right, no business.”
We ate our appetizers, making small talk.
Then over the main courses. Alan said, “I’m thinking of taking a Mediterranean vacation. I hear Cyprus is nice.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I answered quickly.
I was on edge. He knew something, that was for sure. But what did he know? Was he just probing or did he have some concrete idea about what had been going on? I looked over at Lana. She refused to make eye contact. She could sense something was wrong too.
I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I need a few moments to collect myself. I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with water. At most Boris has tipped him off, though I couldn’t see why. I hadn’t been demanding. But in any case, the most Boris could do was show him transfers going out of Russia and into a bank in Cyprus. There was no way to tie that to me. I’d need to cover my tracks more thoroughly going forward, but right now it was at most a he said/she said situation. Still, no reason to drag out this evening any more. I took a deep breath and returned to the table.
“I…. Alan, I think I’m coming down with something,” I said quickly. “Maybe we should cut this short.”
“I don’t think so,” he replied.
“That’s… that’s really not up to you,” I edged down the cushion.
He gave me a joyless smile. “Sit down, Rick.”
The waiter arrived.
“Order dessert,” Alan insisted.
He ordered a chocolate mousse and strawberries and cream for Lana. I just ordered a coffee.
“It’s been a lovely evening,” Alan said as our last course arrived. “But now we do need to talk business.”
“Should I leave?” Lana asked.
“No, this concerns you,” Alan replied. She nodded as if expecting that response.
“What are you talking about?” I said.
He reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a sheet of paper. I didn’t even need to study it to know what it was. A statement of my bank account in Cyprus.
I knew there was no point in lying. I’d thought about this before. I knew the only play.
“I’ll pay you back,” I said quickly.
“Yes,” Alan replied simply.
“Look, I can explain,” I added.
“Don’t bother,” he replied. “That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
He smirked. “You know what I want.”
He glanced over at Lana. She blushed as she stared down into her lap.
“She has nothing to do with this,” I said.
“I don’t care,” he replied.
“Look --”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” he interrupted.
He took a spoonful of his mousse and held it out to my wife. “Try it, it is delicious.”
Without a glance in my direction, she opened her mouth to accept his sample. He edged closer to her and smirked at me.
“Lana is more realistic than you are.”
“You can’t do this,” I snapped. And then a moment later, “Get away from her.”
“Isn’t that up to your lovely bride?”
“Exactly, asshole,” I snapped. “Whatever you need me to do has nothing to do with her.”
He laughed. “Sorry, Buddy, but there is nothing you can do that I want done.”
I shrugged. “Whatever. It still has nothing to do with Lana.”
He laughed. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“No, she does,” he admitted. He paused, but then added, “But she has.”
I stared at him uncertainly.
“Feel her wet cunt,” he said softly. “Go ahead and feel for yourself,” he challenged.
“Fuck off,” I grunted. “Lana, let’s go.”
She didn’t move.
“Feel her cunt,” he said louder. The threat was implicit, but unavoidable. If I didn’t do as he said, he’d continue to raise his voice until the entire restaurant could hear him.
I eased over and looked down, seeing his hand high on her inner thigh.
“You’re a bastard,” I grunted.
He lifted his hand and gestured that it was my turn. I shook my head, not wanting to know, but her lovely thighs, slightly spread, her dress bunched up her lap…. It was all too enticing and disturbing to try to ignore.
I touched my wife’s skin. She shivered. I ran my hand up her inner thigh, feeling her flesh becoming hot an
d damp. Closer to her vee, I could feel her heat as well. Her panties were soaked and she moaned when I touched them.
“Lana seems willing to help you get out of this mess,” he noted drily.
“No,” I said.
He chuckled. “I’ll let you two discuss it. But then meet me across the street at the Roosevelt. Room 2135. Don’t keep me waiting.”
He rose and took a step away from the table. “Oh, and Rick? Get the check.”
I watched him walk away and then turned back to Lana. She was glaring at me.
“We don’t have any choice,” she said simply. “He has bank statements, sworn testimony from your guy in Russia, he’ll ruin you… us… we’ll lose the house. You’ll go to jail.”
“Lana, no, we… I’ll….”
“He’s actually being quite generous. He gets me one weekend a month until we have him fully paid back. You can keep your job if you want it.”
“And he told you all of this while I was in the bathroom?”
“I just told it to you in less time than you were away,” she replied.
But that wasn’t quite what I meant. “And you agreed to it?”
“It’s not like I couldn’t see it coming. All the hints. He’s always wanted to fuck me. I wasn’t that surprised when he laid it out.”
“No,” I said again.
“That’s what you should have said to your Russian guy. I told you this would backfire on us.”
I shook my head.
“Come on, let’s get it over with,” she said simply. “We’re all adults. It’ll be over before we know it.”
I eyed her suspiciously. “You seem almost eager.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Realistic, Rick, realistic.”
III.
As we walked out of the restaurant to the hotel, you could cut the metaphorical tension between us with a figurative knife. My mind was racing a million miles an hour, but finding no good solution. I could pay back about half of what I’d stolen immediately, but it would still be many months before I could even think of paying back the rest. Many months of accompanying my wife to a hotel every few weeks so she could personally pay the interest on our debt.
Best Hotwife Erotica Vol.3: Caught! Page 17
