Clothing Optional: An Interracial Hotwife Erotica Novel

by Arnica Butler

Now, if this were an analogy about how Jackie wants almost everything in her life, it would be dead-on.

  I look over at her.

  Her mouth is really open now, and just as I turn, she snaps it up. I can see a smile forming at the corners of her mouth. Confused, interested, and a little aghast. “Uh... okay. I’ll... try it, I guess.”

  “The drink?” he says. And he winks at her.

  Jackie laughs, and I am probably the only one who can hear a trace of something – maybe nervousness? - in her voice. “Just the drink,” she says.

  Her voice is at an odd volume, which is what happens when she gets flustered.

  “And for you, sir?” the guy says. “You strike me as a Corona kind-of-guy when you’re on vacation.”

  He is right. I am an unimaginative beer drinker. I smile at him.

  He grins back at me, like we share some kind of secret, and then – again, very blatantly – sweeps his eyes in Jackie’s direction and takes another lingering look at her before sucking on his lower lip. “Right. Be back in a minute,” he declares.

  We watch him walk away.

  We turn to each other after he’s out of earshot, and look at each other for a moment before we both laugh.

  “What is up with this place?” Jackie whispers. It’s an expected question, but again, I feel like the tone is off. I can’t put my finger on why, but it’s odd, the way she’s asking me this. She turns her face, and she seems to be looking at the people on the beach.

  Her mouth falls open a little. “Wait a minute,” she says.

  She whips her sunglasses up and puts them on her head. “Is this a...? No. This isn’t a... you know, a... like a swinger’s club or something. Is it?”

  I turn to look out at the beach. Don’t be silly, I’m thinking, but my cock and my torso are doing something else. Saying something else to me.

  Getting excited. It’s a cold, buzzing sensation in my gut.

  “I don’t think they let you.... you have to have a....”

  I babble on like this, with no end to my sentences in sight, as I scan and re-scan the beach.

  The massage cabana, where one of the men who was watching the massage has risen from his chair and is also massaging the woman.

  To the paddle-ball players, who are still splashing and bouncing.

  To the woman on her towel.

  To another couple... scratch that, threesome, under a large umbrella like ours. A man, kneeling, watching a couple who are wrapped around each other, making out wildly. I wish I could see better: they appear to be playing with each other’s tongues, twisting their heads to better bite and lick.

  But more importantly: the woman has one hand wrapped around the man she is making out with. Her legs are wrapped around his torso, and she appears to have no clothes on. She is rocking slightly, up and down.

  This is pretty spectacular, on a beach in the middle of the day with all these people around. But even more spectacular? The woman’s free hand is extended behind her, to the lap of the man who is watching.

  I can’t see what she’s doing, but her arm is pumping up and down. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

  My eyes remain fixed on the scene and I forget all about the fact that I’m openly staring. Or that my wife is right next to me, probably doing the same thing.

  We’re both in this trance when the waiter returns.

  “One tasty drink for the lady,” he proclaims, startling me again. He extends the cool drink to my wife, who can’t take her eyes off the couple and grabs it clumsily. Some of it spills onto her chest, just above the neckline of her bikini.

  I see it splash, which snaps me out of my reverie. A sticky glob of white slush is sliding down her chest.

  The cold seems to have woken her up. Her eyes snap back to the waiter, and she starts to look down at what she’s done.

  But the waiter has acted faster than either of us can. He snaps a towel, leans forward, and wipes the white, creamy drink off my wife’s chest. His eyes lock on hers as he does.

  Jackie is frozen. Her lips part and tremble slightly.

  “So sorry about that,” the waiter says. “Drinks are on the house.”

  Jackie mumbles something. The waiter gives me my drink without taking his eyes off of Jackie for more than a nanosecond.

  “Anything else I can get for you?” the waiter asks, after burning through Jackie for few moments with his hot-Latino stare.

  I wait. I’m enjoying the scene immensely, so as far as I’m concerned it’s Jackie’s show.

  “I... um... no. Not anything. Not..." she looks over at me, flustered. I take pity on her.

  “That’s it for now,” I say cheerfully.

  The waiter clutches his tray. “Well. Just let me know how I can be of service. My name is Luis, you can ask for me at the front desk.”

  The guy sort of bows, winks at my wife again, moves his eyes salaciously all over her body, and walks away.

  There is a silence, and then Jackie turns to me. Her mouth hangs open. “Did he just... proposition me?”

  She’s slightly amused, I can tell. The only reason I can think of for that is that “Luis” is a really good-looking guy. A younger guy. And he definitely seemed to think of her as a tasty treat.

  The suggestion that she “ask for him” at the front desk, as far as I can tell, can only be taken one way.

  “This place is a swinger’s club,” she says, in a low voice. “It really is.”

  Her eyes shift to meet mine. There's something odd in her expression, almost like she's looking for my reaction to a joke.

  “You think it’s... what?” she says, reaching over to pinch my arm. “Funny?”

  I’m too quick for her. I pull my arm away and smile back.

  “It’s kind of... funny,” I say. “Don’t you think?”

  “We’re here for five nights,” she says. “What are we going to do?”

  The tone of her voice is not the one I'd expect. It's sort of... hesitantly sultry.

  I raise my eyebrows.

  She shakes her head, but she's smiling.

  “I don’t know,” I say, reclining in my chair with my beer. “You know what they say. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

  So here’s the thing: I’ve “sort of” shared my fantasy with my wife. On a few particularly drunken nights, I've talked to her about it, but I’ve always done it in a way that made it seem like sort of a joke. Sometimes she plays along, but I feel like it’s only because I treat it more like a joke than a serious desire.

  Her eyes have shifted to the scene behind me. “Those people are having sex,” she whispers. “On the beach.”

  “How gritty,” I quip.

  “Look,” she says, pointing toward them. “And it’s... one woman. With two... guys – oh! Oh my.”

  She reclines in her chair, and puts her arm over her eyes, after letting her gaze linger long enough to see something that makes her mouth drop open again.

  “It's maybe too much,” she says.

  This is an odd statement, but my mind is working on overdrive right now just taking it all in, and I don’t get very far analyzing it. I decide that I should look over at the scene myself.

  When I do, I see the tail end of a spurting fountain of cum – I can barely make it out at this distance – landing all over the face of the woman who is seated on the lap of the other man. She is turned to get the full dose of cum all over her face. As she leans back and twists to accept the cum, the man she is (purportedly) fucking squeezes hard on her breasts.

  I can't quite believe what I'm seeing. And I actually have no idea how to react to it.

  “I guess to each his own,” I manage to say, and flip the magazine page and lie back in my recliner.

  Jackie has removed her hand from her eyes and is staring at the scene again. “Oh my God,” she repeats, in a whisper. Then she turns onto her stomach and smiles a little. “I think… we should wait until they're gone before we go to our room. Tell me. Tell me when they
leave.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  What else can I do?

  I'm forced to watch the group kiss, make out a little, and then wander down to the water's edge, naked, to splash in the water. The woman has large, full breasts that bounce a lot as she kicks at the waves. The two guys enjoy taking fistfuls of her ample bottom, which is a bit bigger than I'd expected, and which jiggles enticingly as she bounces around.

  But, Jackie's asked me to keep an eye on them (more or less), so I do it.

  “Okay,” I say finally, as the threesome make their way back toward the hotel. “They're gone.”

  Jackie pushes up and hastily grabs her things, shoving them into her beach bag. She makes a sound that is something between a whinny and a giggle, perhaps with a tinge of horror. “Well,” she says. “Let's make a run for it!”

  And she does.

  Well, a quick walk.

  I sort of hobble quickly on my crutches, but I admire my quickness and how much I’ve adapted to traveling in the sand.

  Jackie is sort of laughing, sort of mortified, the whole time, looking back at me.

  But there is something else in her expression, and I’m not quite sure what it is.

  Chapter 2

  “Well,” I say, after we sit down on the bed to take stock of our situation for a few moments. “We can’t just hide out in our room the whole week.”

  Jackie bites her lip and shakes her head. “It’s too much,” she says. And then, curiously: “Isn’t it?”

  I shrug. “Look, if you ask me it’s pretty interesting. Let’s just go, enjoy the beach and the pool, watch people doing what they’re doing, politely decline when they offer their services, and have a good time.”

  Jackie is staring at me. I can tell, though, that she’s warming up to the idea. If anything because she knows as well as I do that we can’t hide in this over-air-conditioned room for five nights when such a display of sinful behavior is going on right outside.

  “The way I understand it,” I say authoritatively, “A lot of people just come to watch anyway.”

  I have no such understanding, but it sounds possible and maybe even probable, and it also seems like it might convince her to leave the room again.

  “Really,” Jackie says.

  I have a hard time reading her tone again. It's almost like I gave her an answer to a question.

  “Sure,” I say, but with a little more hesitation, because half my mind is working on sorting out Jackie's reaction. “Some people are just into watching.”

  I pause, then I decide to add: “Some men are really into just watching their wife with another man.”

  Jackie makes a face I cannot decipher. She looks around the room.

  There is a long pause while Jackie makes a big show of being indecisive.

  The thing I know about her, though, is that curiosity always gets the better of her. I know that, in fact, she can’t wait to get back out there and see what’s going on, now that she's had a moment to recover.

  We once watched a some porn together (this was way back, back in the day when the internet wasn’t overflowing with porn and you still had to rent it). The same thing happened: she wanted to watch, but she had to keep insisting that she wasn’t really into it.

  After we watched, she was wet as hell and we had the wildest sex we’ve ever had.

  I am hoping for a similar outcome here.

  The idea that Jackie will actually participate is still a fantasy that’s as out of reach as… I don’t know. Colonizing Jupiter.

  (There’s always a chance).

  “Well,” she says, feigning reluctance. “We can’t stay here all week, that’s true.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “And anyway, it isn’t like the whole place is going to be one big orgy. It might just be totally normal out there.”

  She looks a little reluctant, like her commitment to the idea is starting to recede like a tide.

  “If anyone asks, you just say, ‘I’m just here to watch,’ or something like that,” I add. I am really coming across as an authority on this topic, which is impressive to Jackie as well as to myself, because up until half an hour ago I didn't actually believe a resort like this existed.

  She bites her lip again.

  “I’m right here,” I continue. “I won’t let you out of my sight.”

  Jackie shrugs. “Well...”

  “Come on,” I use my reassuring voice. “It’ll be fine.”

  I extend my hand.

  There is a long pause.

  Jackie takes it.

  *

  Well, it doesn’t happen exactly like that.

  After taking my hand Jackie decides she wants to change clothes, take a shower, put on make-up, and all this other stuff.

  So I make myself a cocktail from the minibar, sit on the edge of the bed, and flip through cable channels, which is where I make the discovery that this place is peddling a lot of free video porn.

  I turn the volume down and watch a few minutes of it while the shower runs. A blonde is on her knees sucking two black guys off, one after the other. She has her big blue eyes on their faces as she opens wide for their thick, black meat.

  It’s hot. I get horny.

  When Jackie comes out, I instinctively turn the porn off.

  Then (also instinctively), I move toward her suggestively.

  She’s changed into a casual black cocktail dress. It’s one she’s had forever, and it looks pretty good on her, but I’d love it if she had something sexier, like her swimsuit cover up.

  I slide my hands around her waist. “You know, you should go shopping at the hotel store,” I say. “Get something really sexy for going out to dinner.”

  I pull her close to me, and I’m about to kiss her when she laughs. “That place is ludicrously expensive, I’m sure. Anyway,” she pushes through my attempted embrace and reaches for a bag on the dresser, “I don’t want to call any undue attention to myself here, right?”

  There's that weird tone again.

  It’s almost like… sarcasm.

  “Right,” I say, in an equally vague tone.

  Jackie, it would seem, is ready to go out and get dinner. She is indifferent to my erection, and she is also probably getting hungry, which gives me a five-minute window before it turns to “hangry.”

  So I abandon my plans to slide my hands beneath her skirt and pull down her panties before tossing her on the bed. I also realize, as I hobble around, that I couldn't do that anyway without putting weight on my foot. I open the door for her instead. A little awkwardly.

  “After you, my lady,” I say gallantly.

  *

  There are three restaurants at the hotel, two of which are part of the all-inclusive meals bit and one which is not. Of course the only thing we want to eat is at the non-included restaurant, so we head there.

  It's a very beachy, very romantic setting. Candles flickering in the sea breezes, the whole Caribbean romance scene.

  There are a few couples seated at small tables that surround a fire pit in the middle of a circular, open-air seating area. We find a small table to ourselves on a part of the circle with no one else there, and settle in, exchanging smiles at each other.

  Jackie is a little nervous, I can tell, and she wants to look around at the other patrons and see what they're doing without gawking.

  A waiter comes almost immediately (another tawny, lean cabana-boy with a thousand-watt smile) and I order a bottle of white wine.

  Jackie raises her eyebrows, but she doesn't object.

  The menu is full of seafood, which is why we are here.

  “Oysters,” I murmur. I read from the menu: “The Casanova Oyster Plate: take a cue from the greatest lover of all time, and indulge in two dozen delicious oysters, warm and cool, ready to slip down your throat and stimulate your desires.”

  Jackie flips her menu down. “It does not say that,” she says.

  “You think I could make this stuff up? It says here Casanova ate fifty oysters every mor
ning for breakfast.”

  Jackie lifts the menu back up to her face. She surprises me again when she says: “I do like them,” she says.

  The waiter returns with the wine, and gives Jackie a very winning smile as he pours it for her.

  Jackie clutches her menu to her chest. “Do you have any oyster plates that are... I don't know. Have fewer oysters?”

  The waiter smiles. He's pouring this wine like he stepped out of a Danielle Who’s-it novel. “I have the perfect thing for you,” he says, and I suspect he is only peripherally referring to me as part of “you.”

  “It's the Aphrodisiac platter.” He leans close to Jackie to point with a thick, wiry finger.

  Jackie reads the description quickly, as do I. Then she looks at me over the menu with her eyebrows raised.

  The platter is a lengthy list of concoctions consisting of things like oysters, avocados, chocolate, maca, asparagus, and strawberries. For some reason (probably the textures of the foods) I find the list itself to be a little sexually stimulating.

  But most things are.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Okay,” Jackie says, and she smiles winningly at the waiter. “We'll start with that. And also... honey, I hope you don't mind... I wanted a drink with, like a little umbrella in it... maybe a daiquiri or something?”

  No matter what becomes of this evening, I'm certainly having a good time.

  While we wait for our platter and her umbrella drink, Jackie has a glass of wine anyway. She drinks her drink, then the platter arrives. It's enormous, and the food really does either look sexual, or have a slippery, sexy feel to it.

  The wine is going to both of our heads, and we're having a lovely time. Jackie is relaxed, she's talking and laughing and I'm thinking what a great idea it is that we came here in spite of my foot (which I have almost forgotten about). Neither one of us really notices that the restaurant is filling up. It gets louder, and the sexual tension starts to turn up.

  But we’re in our own little world. Jackie has a flush on her cheeks and she’s smiling much more than I’ve seen her smile in the past five years, combined.

  And the way she is eating these oysters? Tipping her head back and slurping the slimy liquid out of the shells, giving me a half-joking, half-serious eye as she does it? I have a hard-on the whole dinner through.