She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story)

by Sebastian, Max

  I watched her slide that great thing deep inside her sweet, pink pussy, and her whole body tensed, then shook as the orgasm hit.

  When she was done, and panting to recover her breath, she sat up and said, “You didn’t finish?”

  “I was waiting for you.”

  “Finish. Now.”

  I stepped up the pumping of my shaft, taking in the sight of my exquisite naked wife as she sat there exposing herself to me from across an ocean.

  “So you’re okay about me taking things further with Aaron, then?” she asked, and it only made my cock throb harder in my hands.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “We might have to do some more touching….” she teased me. “And a lot more kissing, of course….”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ll probably have to show him a little more…you know…flesh….”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I might even have to make him come—you know…with my hand…so he thinks we’re really getting somewhere….”

  The way she put it made it sound almost as though Hayley and Aaron were teenagers, debating endlessly whether they should take the next baby step in exploring their sexuality. But this wasn’t Dawson’s Creek. It wouldn’t be so long before Hayley was knocking on the door of her thirties, and Aaron Simpson was pretty much middle-aged.

  But for me, hearing her telling me what she was going to have to do to keep Aaron interested long enough to sign her contract for the movie sequel, it was hotter than hot.

  Then she said, “Sweetie, how would you feel if we had to…you know…try a little…oral sex…?”

  And that was where I blew, pumping my sticky cream into my hand as my delighted wife looked on.

  The last thing I said to her before we signed off was, “You know it’s all up to you, honey? You take things as far as you want to.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  She did fend him off with a little more intimate touching and kissing for a couple more nights, but I could tell things were moving on, strongly.

  Seeing Hayley via Skype, I could tell how exhilarated she was by it all—it helped that the media coverage of her affair with Aaron seemed to be wholly positive, despite the fact that she was married. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to get on board the love story between Hayley Martin and Aaron Simpson. She was such a sweet girl, with real talent who deserved to get to the top, and he was a beloved movie star who might have a playboy reputation, but produced consistently popular movies and never seemed to put a step wrong.

  I stayed in our little house as though I’d contracted a serious case of agoraphobia. I had my groceries delivered, curtains drawn to keep the photographer’s lenses out, the television on constantly to stream out any developments there might have been about my wife and her new lover.

  For the most part, I switched to London’s time zone, sleeping when Hayley was sleeping, awake while she was awake. We could chat on Skype whenever she wasn’t with Aaron, and she could thrill me with all the latest on how things were going, and how she was constantly skirting with the possibility that she would have to put out after all.

  As the night of the London premiere arrived, though, I noticed that she had stopped insisting that she would never sleep with Aaron, that it could never happen. I didn’t push the point, but it did seem apparent that her resolve had somewhat melted.

  She called me as she was getting changed ready for the premiere, which would be held in London’s Leicester Square. As the call was connected, I saw that she was in her own hotel room—despite the public confirmation of the affair, the studio had still booked her a separate room from Aaron—and she was laying out some of her lingerie on the bed, something scarlet and lacy.

  She looked even more buzzed than usual.

  “Hey honey—guess what?” she said.

  “What?” I felt my pulse accelerate.

  “We signed the contracts for the sequel!”

  For a fraction of a second, I’d thought that she’d finally gone all the way with Aaron. I hesitated as the disappointment worked its way through me. This was actually a good thing. A great thing. She’d signed the contract!

  “Terrific, honey! That’s great!”

  “I think we can finally afford a dream house somewhere!” she grinned, sitting down on the bed to remove her shoes.

  “You are so incredible, you know that?” I said. I didn’t really know how to put into words how proud I was of her.

  She lay back in the bed and lifted her hips to reach under her little black miniskirt to remove her panties, and I appreciated very much that she was giving me a little show before she headed off for another evening with Aaron.

  “I think…I think I may be ready to go a little further with Aaron,” she said, and I felt certain she wasn’t just teasing me now, this was getting serious.

  “That’s great, honey.”

  I watched her stand up to pull off her black-and-white top, drop her skirt, and then her fairly plain black push-up bra, looking so good as she stepped into a red lacy garter belt. She cupped her breasts and those stiff nipples in a matching red lace bra, reaching behind her to fasten it.

  “You really do want me to do this, don’t you, sweetie?” She slipped the straps of her bra over her shoulders before pulling on the cups to ensure they were fitted perfectly over her shapely orbs.

  “Of course.”

  “I mean, there’s no going back once I’ve done it.”

  My heart was thumping in my chest. Was she talking about what I thought she was talking about? Not just fooling around with Aaron a little more, not just the oral sex she’d hinted at wanting after her flight across the Atlantic—but the possibility of fully consummating her affair?

  “I know that. But you’re not just doing this for me,” I said. “Are you?”

  “No,” she said, reaching for her tiny little matching panties. “I really want it now. I mean, we’ve been talking about this for so long, and it’s been building and building…and I’ve been getting closer and closer with Aaron….”

  “It’s okay, honey, you don’t have to explain. You want him. That’s wonderful, I don’t have a problem with it at all.”

  “What would you say if I thought it might happen…maybe later tonight?”

  My stomach felt as though it folded over. Jesus. This was really going to happen? She dropped her panties on the bed, and picked up a pair of black stockings. She went over to an armchair to put them on—giving me a sensational view as she stretched the black nylon over her shapely legs one by one.

  Eventually, I managed to say something. “I think if you want to do it, you should,” I said. “You know I want you to.”

  As she lifted her legs to pull those stockings right up her thighs, she gave me an eyeful of her bare pussy, and all I could think about was that she was going to let another man penetrate her there, after she’d kept it from anyone but me for so very long.

  “Here’s the thing….” she said.

  “Yes?”

  “I kind of want you here. If not exactly when it happens, then at least as soon after it as humanly possible.”

  She stood to grab her panties and pull them on, fixing her stockings in place with the suspenders—which went under her panties, I noticed, so that they might stay on when her panties were removed—removed by another man!

  “I hate to spoil a fantastic idea,” I said, “but I’m in LA still. And it’s a 10-hour flight to the UK, right?”

  She smiled. “What if I said Liona’s booked you on a flight that takes off in about…I don’t know…two hours?”

  “Okay….”

  “It’s five o’clock here right now, so in about 12 hours you’d be landing at Heathrow, and that would be 5am London time.”

  “I guess that would be okay. You’d want to see me right then?”

  She stood, and after taking a while to get her garters in place as she wanted them, she pulled a tiny crimson cocktail dress from the wardrobe.

  “We might even be still out par
tying after the premiere,” she said. “Then, I guess we’d end up collapsing into bed….”

  “And I’d see you…once you were done?”

  “Sure. Maybe after a little sleep.”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling my blood pumping around my body, my manhood rock-hard. “So are you saying Liona has booked me on a flight in two hours?”

  “Get your suitcase packed,” she said. “I’ll see you in London.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I was left in silence, stunned.

  Hayley had been reluctant for so long, it hardly seemed real that she was now planning on going all the way with Aaron—and potentially within just a few hours.

  The doorbell sounded, snapping me out of my daze. I groaned, feeling certain it was some overly ruthless paparazzi trying to get me to show my face. But I did go down to check—you never knew who it might be, might have been the police, you never knew.

  Downstairs I went to the door to peer through the spy hole, and for a moment I figured the young dark-haired woman on my doorstep was another photographer or a journalist thinking she was smarter than the rest. After a moment, though, I realized it was Liona.

  Checking for photographers and seeing none, I opened the door, and her pretty face cracked into a warm smile.

  “Hi!”

  She was wearing a dark blue and white striped long-sleeve top which molded to her body, the stripes emphasizing her trim figure and shapely breasts. Her jeans were tight in all the right places, and she was just so damn pretty, her dark hair tied in a girlish ponytail, bangs falling down almost to her lively green eyes, her full lips blazing with bright scarlet lipstick.

  “Uh…hey, Liona. I wasn’t…expecting you.”

  “You wanted some help packing, right?”

  She marched on past me, her candy-sweet perfume filling my lungs, and up the stairs without any actual agreement on my part—a petite force of nature.

  I guess her sudden new hair color just made her a little more noticeable to me—but what a time to develop a crush on someone who wasn’t my wife. I was all testosterone just now, it was oozing through my pores, pumping up my muscles, burning me up as it coursed through my veins. The simple fact of knowing that my wife was just about to go out for the night and party with another man, before fully intending to open her legs for him—it turned me into a raging inferno of masculinity and furious arousal.

  I closed the door and headed upstairs myself, to find her busily pulling out my suitcase before opening our wardrobe to begin selecting clothes for me to wear in London. She seemed to know where everything was without me even having to hint.

  And she was talking non-stop, like someone had paid her to do a running commentary on all this.

  “…I can’t believe you guys are doing this. I mean, I understand why…it sounds logical, right? I mean…your beautiful wife is going to get tempted in this incredible new career of hers, so why not just let her enjoy the temptations, and there’s no reason to stop seeing her…I mean…you guys are in love, right? But it’s one thing to say it, and another thing to actually do it….”

  I just stood there, a little confused, more than a little bemused. Hayley must have sent her. Had to have told her where everything was. There was no opening of incorrect drawers, no mistakenly going to Hayley’s side of the wardrobe: she was pinpoint packing, knowing exactly where she was going and what she was looking for.

  “I’m sure it would have happened anyway,” I said, not quite knowing what to say to her. I guess I had to assume Hayley was telling her everything. They had become very close. “I mean, what woman wouldn’t?”

  Liona flashed her eyes at me. “We’re not all driven by our libido. Contrary to what you men sometimes think of us, most of us are pretty rational.”

  “Okay, yes, I’m sorry. But Hayley’s had a crush on Aaron Simpson since forever.”

  “And that’s the reason to just let her…do whatever?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Guys aren’t usually understanding like that…husbands aren’t usually understanding at all, right? And you’re not just letting her do it—you want her to do it, right?”

  I shrugged. “I like the idea of her being happy.”

  “You get off on it, though. It turns you on. The fact that she’s going to cheat on you—”

  “It’s not cheating—” I started to respond.

  “If you know it’s happening and approve. She told me you’d say that…”

  She pulled my boxer shorts out of my drawer, and it struck me as a little strange to see her handling my underwear.

  “But you never did this before, right? You guys were never into swinging or anything like that? She never fooled around with anyone else before while you two were together?”

  “No, she’s always resisted the idea.”

  Liona laughed. “Crazy!”

  She walked into the bathroom, and went on. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d be perfectly happy with you for the rest of my life…but if I knew you had a thing about me sleeping with other guys as well, I’d be on Ashley Madison like a shot.”

  I felt my ears burn a little. Had Liona just dropped a hint that she liked me, or was she merely thinking in Hayley’s mindset just now?

  I said, trying to ignore her slip of the tongue, “You know Ashley Madison got hacked, right? You’d probably end up being publicly shamed.”

  She came out of the bathroom and surprised me by shoving a plastic bottle in my hands—shampoo? I peered at it. Just for Men.

  “Here,” she said. “Hit the showers, buddy. I want you tall, dark and handsome by the time we leave here—and we haven’t got long. I’ll finish packing.”

  I stared at the bottle of hair dye. Medium brown. I’d never used hair dye before in my life. I wasn’t even sure how—

  “There’s some gloves by the sink,” Liona interrupted my thoughts. “Just put it in, wait five minutes and then hit the shower, shampoo it out.”

  I hesitated, and she added, “You want me to come do it for you?” I looked at her and she broke into a mischievous grin. “I mean, Hayley didn’t actually ask me to take a shower with you…but you know…fair’s fair, right?”

  I smiled, and headed for the bathroom. “None of this is about me wanting to sleep with other women,” I said.

  Inside the bathroom, I dropped the Just for Men bottle on the counter by the sink, and pulled off my shirt.

  “But you guys must have said something about it—I mean, if she gets to be with Aaron, what’s in it for you?” I turned, and she was standing there leaning against the doorway, apparently enjoying the sight of me pulling off my shirt.

  I shook my head. “It’s not like that,” I said. I slipped on the clear vinyl gloves she’d provided for me, and gazed at myself in the mirror, at my close-cropped dark blond hair, which seemed to have gained a wealth of gray hairs since I’d last really looked at myself.

  “So what’s it like?” she prompted me.

  I said, “I love my wife. What I want is to see her…given attention…by someone else. And how much she enjoys it.”

  Liona wrinkled her forehead. “So, you’re a voyeur, right?”

  “Something like that,” I said, trying to explain as I started rubbing in the cool hair dye all over my scalp. “But it’s my wife that I want to watch…I don’t know…maybe I don’t even have to watch—just know that it’s happened, that she’s done it. There’s just something about the strong bond we have…and how it feels to be giving her a completely new sexual experience…and to know she’s being such a bad girl to go through with it….”

  “Hmm….” Liona nodded. “You like bad girls, huh?”

  “It’s complicated,” I said. “There’s a lot of different facets to it. The feeling that you’re both breaking a big taboo—and the whole risk factor….”

  “Risk factor? You mean the risk that you’ll lose her?”

  I smiled at her bewilderment. “I don’t mean I actually want to gamble our marr
iage away,” I said. “I have to fully trust that she loves me, and after she’s had her fun, she’ll still be mine first and foremost.”

  Liona nodded. “But you like the feeling of danger.”

  “It’s controlled danger, really. Walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls—you’re not intending to take a huge leap to your doom into a huge great waterfall. But the presence of the danger just makes the whole thing…I don’t know…more powerful.”

  She stood there a moment in silence, and I could see two small peaks pressing up against her stripy top from the beautiful mounds of her breasts. It wasn’t cold in here: Liona seemed to be interested in the idea of a husband finding it exciting to allow his wife to sleep with others.

  “And it won’t freak you out?” she said, breaking the silence as she suddenly realized how awkward it might seem. “I mean afterward…when you get her back, and she’s been with another guy?”

  “Why should it?” I asked, finishing up the dyeing part of the process. “She was with other guys before me, wasn’t she?”

  “That’s different. And that’s…ages ago.”

  I set the timer on my smartphone to tell me when five minutes were up.

  I shrugged. “It’s just sex. It’s not like she’s been rolling around in sewage. I don’t know. I kind of like the idea of seeing her right after, of being with her right after. She’d be so hot…and there’d be no doubt what she’d just done….”

  “Mmm…so dirty….” Liona moaned, but then caught herself. “Jesus, if only all men were like you. I tell you what—there probably wouldn’t be any wars. Ever.”

  “I doubt that,” I said. “We’d still have religions, right?”

  *

  I closed the door on her as my timer ticked down to zero and it was time to step in the shower—but that didn’t stop Liona coming in while I was washing off the dye, supposedly to get my toiletries to pack in the suitcase. She wasn’t subtle—yelling at me not to bother having a shave as she went.