Ten Year Reunion: A Hotwife Novel

by Lexi Archer

  I opened my mouth and the words almost came out. I stopped. I wasn’t sure how to say this. I was terrified of how she was going to react.

  “Honey? Is something wrong?”

  I shook my head. “No. I was just thinking…”

  “What were you thinking? And why does it seem like I’m always in for some trouble when you start thinking?”

  I grinned and shrugged, held out my hands in my most innocent gesture. “What can I say? I have great ideas!”

  “Okay honey,” she said. “Spill already. What’s going on?”

  “Well I was thinking about your reunion. How you’re going out to get clothes for the big day and all that.”

  I opened my mouth and it worked for a moment, but words failed me. I took a deep breath and forced myself to spit the next part out. The words came spilling out of my mouth rapid fire. “I was thinking as long as you’re getting clothes for the reunion you might as well get some decently sexy outfits.”

  There. I said it. I’d more or less admitted to my wife that I wanted her to slut it up just a little bit at her reunion. I braced for the slap. I braced for the yelling. I wasn’t sure how she’d react. I was terrified of how she might react, that she might somehow deduce my strange new fantasy from this request.

  She smiled and a raised eyebrow. Now that was unexpected. Don’t get me wrong, I’d take it, it was just unexpected.

  “What are you saying honey?”

  “Well I was just thinking that you’re still in damn good shape,” I said, trying to think of any sort of logic that would make my request sound halfway rational while at the same time not admitting that the reason I wanted her to dress up in sexy clothes was that I was turned on by the idea of guys from her old graduating class checking her out in said sexy outfits. In particular I was getting turned on thinking about one guy in particular getting turned on by my wife in her sexy outfits.

  “You were saying how you haven’t accomplished anything, but think about all the women who are going to show up who let themselves go over the last ten years! You show up looking just as hot as the day you graduated wearing an outfit that shows it off and you’re definitely going to turn some heads,” I said.

  Abby shook her head. “Honey, that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “But thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

  Damn it. She thought I was trying to make her feel better? Of course. She’d been upset about going to her reunion and she thought this was just me grasping at straws so she’d feel a little better about going to the reunion. Not that I desperately needed her to dress in the sexiest outfit possible so I could watch her old boyfriend ogle her. I needed to get this conversation back on track.

  “At least think about it,” I said. “I think it would be really hot to see you dressed up like that.”

  She leaned up and kissed me on the lips this time. “Don’t you think I’m hot no matter what I wear?”

  “Well yeah, but you know what I mean,” I said.

  Abby patted my cheek and turned to walk for the garage. I sighed, my shoulders slumping. I’d given it my best try, but it was looking like my best try wasn’t going to be enough. Sure she’d be hot no matter what she wore, she was definitely right about that, but I’d been secretly hoping she might slut it up just a little bit. That I might have a chance to show off my hot little wife to all the guys at that reunion. To watch them watching her.

  I wasn’t sure where these impulses were coming from, I wasn’t sure why I was letting them control me like this, but I knew that I couldn’t stop.

  Abby turned and looked over her shoulder as she reached the door to the garage. Her hair flew and she looked for all the world like a model doing a turn on a catwalk. She had a huge grin on her face.

  “And don’t worry baby,” she said. “I’ll think about what you said while I’m shopping.”

  And then she was gone. The door slammed shut behind her and I sighed again. My shoulders slumped. Only it was with relief rather than disappointment. She might be going along with the plan after all. And that was all I could ask for. All I could do was nudge her in the right direction. Try to take things to the very naughty place I wanted them to go.

  I waited until I heard the sound of the garage door. And then I waited another minute for the sound of the garage door closing. I moved to the front of the house and peered through the window just in time to see her car pulling out of the driveway and going down the road. And from there I spent another ten minutes puttering around the house making sure she wasn’t going to be coming back around because she forgot something.

  Finally I was satisfied Abby was gone. That meant I had at least a couple of hours even if it was a short shopping trip. I smiled to myself, my cock rock hard, and made my way upstairs. I pulled down the stairs leading up to the attic and stepped up into a dusty world that I usually only visited once or twice a year when it was time to bring down the decorations for Christmas and put them back up again.

  The place really could use a good cleaning. I was astonished at how much crap we’d managed to accumulate in the two and a half years since we moved into the place. We never had this much crap when we lived in an apartment. I suppose it really was an example of growing to fill space that you had.

  The first order of business was to get together a garbage bag full of stuff I could take out to the trash. She’d wanted at least one garbage bag full of stuff, and so I’d give her that before I started on my real plan. Besides, it was always a good idea to get my plausible deniability out of the way immediately so I didn’t have to rush around when I inevitably lost track of time and heard the garage door opening down below.

  Once that bag was full it was time to get down to the real work.

  I moved over to a box that was situated on the opposite side of the attic from the stairs. It looked innocent enough. Just your regular old-fashioned medium sized cardboard box from any old moving store. And it was marked “Abby Old” in permanent marker that had faded over the years since we’d moved from the apartment. In this case “Abby Old” meant it was stuff from high school and college. Exactly what I was looking for.

  I pulled the box off the shelf, careful not to disturb any of the other boxes surrounding it, and opened it. I started shaking as I did so. It felt almost as though I was doing something wrong by looking through this box. Almost as though I was violating a trust. The semi-forbidden nature of what I was doing had my cock throbbing as I looked through some of the old pictures.

  I almost couldn’t believe I was doing this, and yet there was a monster inside me that needed to do this. That needed to see some of those old pictures. That needed to see my wife with her old boyfriend.

  I started with her yearbook from her senior year. That was the year they finally got together after several years of dancing around one another. I’d pieced together bits of the story from the rare occasions I got her to talk about that year. They’d always been in a relationship with someone else, always carried a torch for each other, and then everything finally came together their senior year.

  Abby went to one of those small schools that served a town in the middle of nowhere. The kind of place that thought a single stoplight was a revolution in traffic control. The kind of place that you could blink and miss as you were traveling through on a highway except for the part where the speed went down to about thirty miles an hour and ruined the groove you’d set with your cruise control. Basically it was every average small town you’d ever see in the Midwest.

  It was easy enough to be in every page of the yearbook if you were big man or woman on campus in a place like that, and Abby and her boyfriend had been no exception to that rule. I looked back to the index, looked for her maiden name, and realized she was probably on just about every other page from the way of the page numbers ran on and on.

  So instead of trying to find specific pages with the two of them I just started flipping through the book. It was smaller than my old ye
arbook. Not nearly as many kids went to her school as to mind, and it really did seem like every other page was her and him together.

  Pictures from homecoming, her in her cheerleading outfit and him in his football uniform. A winning game on the way to winning the state championship according to the people who compiled the yearbook, though I suppose there was nothing to stop them from fibbing about that. A picture of them later that night winning homecoming King and Queen. Pictures from dances. From prom. King and Queen again.

  I closed my eyes and I was transported back to that dance. I imagined that I was him with her body pressed against me during a slow dance. How hot that must’ve been. No doubt his rock hard cock was pressing against her as they swayed back and forth to the music.

  Of course dancing close was as far as it would’ve went. She’d already mentioned to me that there was no hanky-panky after dances for her. No, they’d gone to the school sponsored after prom and that was that.

  I flipped through the book devouring every page. Devouring every moment of their relationship that was captured on those pages.

  They looked so happy. So sweet. Then I reached the end of the yearbook, though that hadn’t been my ultimate goal anyways. No, I was more interested in what came after. In the summer that still caused Abby to get a wistful look in her eyes when she talked about it, though I don’t think she realized that I noticed the way she looked when she talked about it.

  That was the summer when my wife, still the good little church girl, had gotten so close to breaking those rules for the boy she loved. Of course all those rules would be thrown out when she got to college and met me, I smiled at that small victory, but I was so hard thinking about how close they got that summer after high school. That summer before college. Just a short time before we’d meet for the first time, although that would be a good half a year later and several thousand miles away.

  Those moments, that summer, were captured in another album she’d put together. Their names were written in sparkly ink on the front, though it had faded somewhat in the decade since she initially put it together. I flipped through the pages devouring every picture of them together.

  A picture of them at the beach. She looked amazing in her bikini and he was ripped. She still wasn’t quite the woman she would be, but there she was in the full flower of youth and beauty and I had to admit that my cock lurched as I thought back to the delicious treasures that my wife had to offer back then. And as I looked at that I imagined them at a bonfire on the beach. Making out. Thinking of my wife with her old boyfriend made my cock twitch. It made me lick my lips as I stared down at them. As I imagined him making out with my wife, rolling on top of her, their skin pressing together with her in a bikini and him in his swim trunks. I imagined their hot bodies pressing together in the sand.

  Not that there was much romance in the reality of making out in the sand. But in my mind where I was just fantasizing it was a fucking hot with none of the inconvenience that came from going for a little roll in the sand.

  I flipped forward, looking for the picture. The whole reason I came up here today. It was a picture I’d obsessed over through the years, though I’d never quite understood why I was so obsessed with it until today. I’d never understood why it would pop into my head at random moments. Only now that I was finally able to articulate this odd feeling, finally able to admit to this weird fantasy that had taken control of me, I understood exactly why the picture had such a big hold on my erotic imagination.

  The picture was taken at a bonfire sometime after they got out of school and before Abby went off to college. Before he made the decision that he’d rather stay home. That was the decision that had broken up their relationship. The decision that had paved the way for me to ultimately get together with my wife. Not for the first time, I wondered what might have happened if he decided to follow her, or if she decided to go to school closer to home. The thought made me sick to my stomach even as the thought of them together made my cock to throb.

  The picture wasn’t the greatest quality. We’re talking a picture taken with a phone camera from a decade past when they weren’t that great to begin with, and compounding that they had a bonfire behind and it was dark all around them. But still, there was enough light from the phone’s puny flash that I could clearly make out enough. Enough to send my mind spinning. Enough that I could feel cum leaking out of my cock as I ran my eyes over the picture.

  Abby wore a pair of impossibly short shorts and a plaid button up shirt, only most of the buttons at the top and bottom were undone so I could clearly see her toned flat stomach below and the generous swell of her cleavage up above. God she was so fucking hot! I’d seen her wear similar outfits since, hell, I’d seen her wearing far less than that, but there was something about the way she looked in that picture with that outfit that turned me on.

  And I’m sure the reason that outfit turned me on so much was right behind her. Was whose lap she was sitting in. Because he was right behind her with his arms around her, holding my wife possessively. And why not? They were young and in love, still in the flower of youth with no idea that their relationship was about to crash down around them.

  The sight of her with another man was hot enough, but that wasn’t the entire reason why I was so turned on. No, it was what I knew about that night. That was the night. The night it almost happened. The night she admitted she’d almost lost control. The night he almost reached that ultimate goal he’d been trying to reach for so long.

  Before I’d been relieved she didn’t go through with it. That we were each other’s firsts. And yet now as I looked down at the two of them the only thing I could think was how much I wished they’d gone through with it. All I could think about was them going off to some secluded spot for a little alone time together. Maybe in the back of a car. Maybe snuggled up together in a sleeping bag. The details weren’t important. What was important was the idea of his muscular body over my future wife’s petite body. Him looking down at her, staring down at her half naked body and drinking in the beauty that was her figure. His rock hard cock pressing against her.

  I closed my eyes and moved my hand down to my cock. I undid my pants, pulled it out, and started stroking as I thought back to that night that almost was. I imagined him pressing his cock against her, her reaching out and stopping him at the last minute. I felt the mixture of arousal and disappointment he must’ve felt. Only in my mind it didn’t end with arousal and disappointment. In my mind she got so turned on that she relented. He pressed the head of his cock against my wife’s pussy, pushed up inside her completely unprotected, and took her for the first time. Claimed my wife’s virginity, took it from me half a year before I would even meet her for the first time and realize that was something I was interested in taking myself.

  This felt so weird. It felt so wrong. I knew what I was thinking was crazy. How could I be getting so turned on by the thought of another guy fucking my wife before I even met her? Especially when it was a situation where he hadn’t actually fucked her but I found myself wishing he had? What was wrong with me?

  And yet I couldn’t deny how turned on I was. How hot I felt. I couldn’t deny the feeling coursing through my body. The tingle rising at the base of my cock as it started to twitch. I was close to one hell of an orgasm. I felt so hot. It was so intense. I was surprised. I’d never felt this way from my hand before, and yet here I was. These forbidden thoughts were sending me over the edge in a way I’d never felt before while jerking it.

  The garage door pulled me away from my fantasy world and back to reality. I sat there, cock in hand, my dick twitching but not quite near the edge. I thought about going ahead and finishing myself off, the gamble that some married men played when they were jerking off and their wife was nearby, but ultimately I decided that discretion was the better part of valor in this situation. There was no way I’d be able to finish, clean up, and put everything away without arousing Abby’s suspicion. Even if she did take a few minutes to pull everything in
from her shopping trip.

  As I shoved my cock back into my pants I had a brief moment of panic as the stimulation of my cock rubbing against my boxer shorts was almost enough to send me over the edge. I had to stand for a moment and think of baseball to prevent myself from blowing my load all over the inside of my shorts. As quickly as possible I stuffed everything back into the box and placed it back on the shelf. I tried to make everything look as close to normal as possible, though I don’t know why I bothered since she never came up here anyways. I doubted she’d suspect a thing even if I left everything strewn around.

  The attic was mostly my territory. Still, better paranoid and cautious now than sorry later.

  I grabbed the one bag of trash I’d put together and glanced at my phone as I came down. It looked like she’d been gone for about two hours. I blinked. Had I really been up here for that long? I really got that lost in my newly discovered fantasy world?

  Suddenly I was very glad I’d gone ahead and taken the precaution of putting together my bag of trash before I got down to the fun.

  As I moved downstairs I could already hear her moving around in the kitchen down below. Time to go down and see what she bought at the store. I hoped she followed my advice and bought something sexy!

  4: Modeling

  “Seriously? One bag of trash?”

  I grinned and shrugged. What could I say? It’s not like I could exactly admit to my wife that I’d been up there jerking off to pictures of her from back before we met. From right before she went off to college. I’m sure she’d appreciate that far less than she was already not appreciating that I only managed to put together one bag of garbage from the attic.

  Whatever. Time to change the subject. I glanced at the bags in her hands.

  “So what did you get at the store? Anything good?”

  Abby smiled a knowing smile at me as though she knew exactly what I was trying to do. Only she allowed herself to be distracted. She put a couple of her bags down and raised an eyebrow at me.