by Blaise Quin
The entire time I’d never even seen his face, the face of the man who had just planted his seed in my wife.
Emily stared at the crack in the doorway, not able to see Justin, but knowing he would be watching. Certainly he’d seen her come. She wished she could see his reaction, knowing how much it excited him. That’s what had started all this, the idea of him being able to see her from across the room as she was aroused.
Yet the semi privacy had added an added excitement to this tryst. No matter how thrilling this new sexual life of theirs had become, she hadn’t been ready to be alone with another man. This was the next best thing.
She listened intently for any indication of Justin’s presence, but her ears were buzzing with her surging blood. She couldn’t wait to ask Justin what he had seen, what he had done.
But Antonio was not finished.
“You are an unkind vixen,” Antonio growled in her ear. “Taking away the ultimate pleasure I could give you.”
Emily smiled, because his words did not match his tone. Though she had denied his release inside her, he had been satisfied nonetheless. She dropped the condom, putting it out of her mind, and squeezed his seed in her palm.
“I will make you pay for that,” he said, untangling himself, pulling away and sliding down the bed.
His mouth was on her breasts, no gentle caresses now, sucking hard. Emily gasped, his sudden change mirroring what he had done before as he had roughly thrust into her. His mouth pulled at her nipple until it hurt, then let go just as she was about to yell out.
Her simmering arousal flew to her nipples, bursting at his face. He chuckled in satisfaction at her reaction, moving to the other breast, his teeth scraping her nipple. Emily stared, not recognizing her own nipples, impossibly thick and long.
No longer the teats of a maiden, but a woman with child.
She pulled him onto her breast, wanting more, wanting to give. He suckled hard, pulling her nipple deep into his mouth.
She froze, falling into the incredible sensation of being taken in a new way.
Antonio sucked on her for a long time, but it wasn’t long enough, because when he finally pulled away Emily grabbed at his head, but he pinned her wrists to the bed, her arms spread out helplessly, as he once again worked his way down her body.
Between her breasts, onto her stomach.
His tongue snaked out, his lips smacking, and Emily’s eyes snapped open as she realized he was licking up his own seed.
For some reason this excited her beyond reason, the idea of a man tasting himself in this way. It was one thing to kiss Justin after she’d taken him in her mouth, to put her salty tongue against his, but this was so much more—direct. Antonio’s tongue felt different on her skin, more sinful, most lusting. This was the ultimate proof of how much she had aroused him, his willingness to lick the results of his explosion.
His licks left her skin hot, and by the time he had reached her mound she was steaming. He forced her legs apart with his knees, his mouth grabbing at her hair, her mound. She knew she had to be opened embarrassingly wide after he had been in her, and yet she arched her back to welcome his mouth. To her dismay he avoided her clit, but she was rewarded instead with his tongue driving deep inside her. She stared at the top of his head, his hair as luscious as he was, watching him lick her, her juices gushing, forcing him to lap her. He swallowed hard, over and over. He was taking her inside him, just as she had taken him.
His mouth had to be filled with her—no, not just her, but himself, the seed he had licked up. His seed. Yet it could have been any man’s seed, on her, inside her.
A wicked thought filled her head, a man licking her after another man had come inside her.
She moaned a vehement, loud denial, the vision was so twisted, so deviant, but so help her it drove her wild, and at that moment Antonio, or whoever was licking her, grasped her swollen clit in his mouth and she exploded, unleashing a flood of newly born juices into his mouth, feeling sinful yet so incredibly ecstatic as he was forced to swallow, her orgasm driving her to a height she’d never experienced in her life.
She pressed his head to her mound, feeling delightfully, blissfully, powerful.
I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I was angry at what Emily had let Antonio do. He’d experienced what I never had: he’d come in my wife.
And I was ashamed at my arousal at watching it happen.
I turned my eyes away, pushing back from the chair. I shut the connecting door, not caring if they heard me. Awkwardly I stumbled to the bathroom, my pants around my ankles, adding to my shame.
Why would Emily allow it? She had held the condom in her hand. It certainly hadn’t seemed that Antonio had forced her. She hadn’t struggled, hadn’t called out. In fact, she seemed to have leaned into his thrusts. Had she become so caught up in the moment she’d lost control?
I was afraid to even consider the other option, that she had feelings for Antonio. That this was her way of showing me she wanted to be with him instead of me.
It sounded crazy, it was so unlike Emily. Yet perhaps her body was ahead of her mind, willing to act out the truth.
I might have lost her. And it was all my fault, starting this stupid, risky, dangerous game of hotwife, just to satisfy my own sexual desires. Emily never wanted any of this.
I’d played with fire, and I’d been burnt.
I tripped my way into the bathroom, but didn’t turn on the light. I didn’t want to look at myself. I washed my hands twice, but no soap would clear away the scorching evidence of my twisted mind, the mass of cum I’d let loose watching Antonio shoot inside Emily.
They were probably doing it again right now.
I splashed cold water on my face, soaking my shirt, not caring. What did it matter what I looked like?
My stomach heaved, my legs grew weak. I had to hold onto the vanity, and then the wall, as I made my way back to the bed. I sat down wearily, helpless.
I don’t know how long I sat there, I dared not look at the clock. The room was so quiet I could hear someone walk by on the carpeted outer hall, reminding me I was in a hotel room.
Suddenly from the other room came a long whimper, building to an indistinguishable moan. Emily was in trouble! I jumped up and rushed to the connecting door. Just as I began to turn the latch the moan changed in tone, it wasn’t a sound of dismay, but of bliss. A cry of pure ecstasy which cut into my heart like a dagger.
My worse fears were realized. Emily was having another orgasm, Antonio no doubt again fucking her, unprotected. I held my breath, waiting for his grunt of release, but it never came. Or I’d missed it. Perhaps that is what had driven Emily to such arousal.
I pressed my ear to the wall, a self destructive desire to hear more. I could make out no sounds now. Perhaps they were embracing, spooning in post coital bliss.
I retreated to the bed. I don’t know how long I sat there, completely lost as to what to do. Rush into the other room? It was a little late for that. Go home? What would that be like, to return to our bedroom alone?
I was sitting there zombie-like when the connecting door opened.
Antonio was lying next to her, whispering in her ear, endearing sounds, mixed with smooth Spanish. But none of his words registered to Emily, because she was staring at the connecting door to the other room.
The closed connecting door.
A wave of dismay washed over her. She’d be so caught up in her fantasy, in the reality of Antonio, she’d lost track of Justin. Had he become so disgusted with her that he had been forced to turn away?
She extricated herself from Antonio, rising. “I have to go.”
He grabbed her arm. “We have the entire evening.”
Emily pulled away. “Please.” She forced her eyes from the door. “Antonio, this—you were wonderful. You are wonderful. But I am a married woman.”
“Married, yes, but not in a cage. Come fly back to me.”
Emily leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips, a tender kiss,
conveying her thanks, yet not her desire to stay. “Thank you again, for everything. Have a safe trip home.”
“I will be back in the States soon. We will not be working together, but we can still be together.”
She put her hand on his chest. “No, this was our one and only time. Go and make your own wife happy. She must miss you.”
Emily stood up, gathered her clothes and shoes, and without even bothering to dress opened the connecting door without another look back.
“Justin?”
I had still not turned on a light. Emily stood in the doorway, a silhouette, her face not visible. She was naked.
“Justin?” she repeated.
“Over here,” I mumbled.
The door closed, plunging the room back into darkness. Soft footfalls on the floor, her clothes falling from her hands. My eyes had adjusted to the dark, I could probably see her better than she could see me. I searched her face for any hint of bad news, but all I saw was concern.
“Are you okay?”
I shrugged.
She put her arm around me. “I did something wrong.”
Now that was an understatement.
I dared not face her, I would break down, or say something mean. I was angry, hurt, sad. Yet I shared in the guilt of her transgression. “I should have expected this.”
“I’m sorry. I just got so—. No. No excuses. It was my fault. This was always supposed to be about us. I screwed up.”
You got screwed, was what I wanted to scream. You got screwed, fucked, seeded. Maybe impregnated. I thought I was going to throw up, not just from the idea, but from the fact that very thought had aroused me over the last few weeks.
“You certainly seemed to enjoy it,” I said, my voice harsh.
Her lip trembled, her hand hovering over my arm, perhaps not certain if she should touch me. “I’m so sorry. . .” And now she did cry, quiet yet body wracking sobs that made me feel like shit.
No matter what she had done, I still loved her. So it was me who made the first move, who reached for her, wanting to calm her in my arms. We’d figure the rest out later, what we’d do in our future. For now, I couldn’t bear the pain of making her sad on top of all my other heartache.
Yet she pulled away from my grasp. “No, wait. . .”
I stood there stupidly with my arms out.
Emily grasped my hand, kissing my fingers. “I need to get in the shower,” she said. “I want to wash off all of his—what he left on me—first.”
I heard the words, but they didn’t quite sink in. “What?”
Her voice cracking, she said, “It’s so stupid, I just had sex with another man but can’t say it. I’m so weird sometimes.” She took a deep breath. “He came all over me, and I want to wash it off. There, I said it.”
“He what?”
She tried to laugh, but she was still recovering from her cry. “You want me to say it again?”
“No, I mean, he came on you? Not in you?”
Her eyes widened, her fingernails digging into my hand. “What?”
“I thought, the condom. . .”
“You thought he—you thought I let him. . .”
I simply shrugged again.
“Justin, I would never—look at me. Look at me.” She waited until I had raised my head. “I did no such thing. He was never in me that way. I just—pulled it off.”
I didn’t think Emily would lie about this, but I still wasn’t convinced. “Why?”
She turned her head away. “I’m sorry for that too,” she whispered.
Her apology told me everything. “You wanted him to come inside you.”
“Not him. Just—I. . .I’m sorry. I can’t lie to you. I fantasize about it. You know I do.”
I did. I’d dirty talked to her about having a man come in her. This was my fault too. I half turned, hiding my own guilt. Yet when she started to cry again I couldn’t stand to listen to her pain.
“I do too,” I admitted, to share in the sting.
She shook her head, berating herself.
“No, really,” I said. Then, my voice a whisper, I added, “What did you think I was doing when I thought he was coming inside you?”
Her eyes fell to my crotch, and then snapped to my face, seeing the truth. Now it was my turn to apologize. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s so confusing and complicated.”
We just stayed like that for a very long time, my mind filled with so many thoughts, no doubt hers as well. Emily recovered first, a surprising smile splashing across her face.
“I know how to un-complicate it,” she said.
“How?” I was willing to try anything.
She kissed me lovingly on the lips. “Let’s get cleaned up, and go back to our own bed. And make a baby.”
I lay in the bed, warm from the shower, wearing just my shorts. Emily was just getting into the shower herself. We had passed each other in the bathroom, strangely reticent.
We were going to have unprotected sex tonight for the first time. To start a family.
It was a week after the night at the hotel with Antonio. We hadn’t had sex that night, but once we had returned home had just lay together, connecting in a new way.
During the week we’d talked, about children, about our jobs, about timing. It wasn’t the perfect time, but we both realized there would be no perfect time. We wanted a family, we both agreed. If we let the schedule rule us, there would always be an excuse.
Yet as I lay there, I had all the second thoughts I’d had before, the thoughts many men must have. Would I be a good father? How would it change our lives?
And, of course, the more immediate worry. Would I be able to perform, to produce the live giving seed?
All my thoughts of seeing Emily taken by another man haunted me. What if that was some hidden secret that my body knew? That I wouldn’t be able to get it done, that Emily would have to resort to another man?
Though we hadn’t spoken about it, there was no doubt that this new path would take us off the one we had been on, the wife sharing, hotwife path. By making this decision, we were implicitly making another.
Our sexual experiment, which had gone beyond my wildest expectations, was probably at an end.
The bathroom door opened, and Emily stood there, wrapped in a towel. She looked so beautiful, flushed with heat and perhaps excitement. All my reservations were instantly swept away. This was the woman I wanted to have kids with.
I held my arms open wide, and she smiled and came to the bed.
I slipped the towel from her shoulders and pulled her close to me. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world,” I said, and I meant it.
“And you,” she said, “are the most handsome, loving husband a woman could ever want.”
I wanted this evening to be special for her, and I had considered what to do. I thought about kissing every inch of her body, but that reminded me too much of what Antonio had done. This was all about us.
In the end, we did what countless other couples no doubt have done, we reverted back to our old ways, before all the videos, the exploration, the wife sharing. We kissed, touched, ran our hands over each other. And when we were ready, she lay on her back, in the traditional missionary position, and I poised myself over her.
But this time, without a condom.
I won’t try to explain what it felt like. For those who have been on either the giving or the receiving end, you know what it feels like. For those who have not, it simply cannot be put into words. The only concept that comes close is completeness.
After it was over, we did it again, and then fell asleep. For the first time in months, I didn’t remember my dreams.
Everything changed for me after that night, for both of us. We were a new version of our old selves, going about our daily business, rushing to work in the mornings, quick texts during the day, small talk over dinner. That was our old selves. The new us was having more sex in the evenings, not on any schedule. Always warm, loving sex, with the unspoken thought
that any one of those nights might be the night, the night we had made a baby.
We didn’t speak a word of other men, of videos, of Dwayne or Antonio or nights at a bar. It was just the two of us in the bedroom, not even a glimmer of a ghost.
When I went away on a business trip we’d have sex the night before, and again the night I came home. At first, I was thrilled by this, after years of Emily needing to reconnect with me after I’d been away before we could have sex, now we did it as a matter of course. Oddly, after the third or fourth trip, I found myself a little less excited by the prospect, often just wanting to go to sleep. It’s a funny thing: finally getting all you wanted wasn’t quite as satisfying as you thought it would be. Like drooling over a piece of chocolate cake, but then losing your interest if you had the entire cake in front of you to eat.
Emily paused in the drugstore in front of the family planning display. Family planning, what a innocuous way to describe what was on the shelves. Mostly condoms, along with lubricant, and pregnancy tests. She’d only bought condoms one time, and had stopped needing lubricant. The condoms had not been for her husband, but for Dwayne.
The first week she’d had unprotected sex with Justin she had run out to buy a pregnancy test. She’d decided not to try to schedule their lovemaking around her fertile period, as so many women did. She felt it would take away some of the magic and mystery. Yet the test—that was after the fact. At first she’d tested herself every week, then every two weeks. All negative. She understood that it often took time to get pregnant, perhaps even a year, and yet she was still disappointed.
Maybe there was something wrong with her.
She went to the gynecologist, who pronounced her healthy. The doctor had repeated the advice to relax and not be in a hurry. Emily’s mind accepted that, yet it did nothing to change how anxious she was.
A woman about her age walked down the aisle, dressed similarly to Emily, a work outfit, a jacket, skirt, short heels. She nodded at Emily and casually reached out to take a box of condoms off the shelf. Not embarrassed, as Emily would have been. Emily noticed the woman didn’t have a wedding ring. The woman hesitated, then took a second box and headed toward the register. Not even hiding her purchase in a basket filled with other items.
