Watching Whitney: A Hotwife Fantasy

by Lexi Archer

  "Damn! This stuff has a kick!" she said.

  Sam held up his bottle and clinked against hers again.

  "If you think this stuff has a kick then just you wait," he said. "There's a whole world of 'kick' beyond this crappy 6% alcohol by volume crap."

  Whitney hit play and the sounds of some movie filled the room as she threw her bottle back again and chugged another quarter of the bottle. This was definitely new. Whenever we used to go to parties she never drank much, and never with so much gusto.

  "Damn Whitney, you'll need to pace yourself or you'll finish in five minutes," Sam said.

  "Is that a problem? You've got two whole six packs there."

  "Can't argue with that logic."

  They lapsed into silence and I used the opportunity to get a closer look at this guy sitting there with my fiancée. He wore a pair of khaki shorts and a t-shirt with some logo I couldn't make out. He looked like he was in pretty good shape. I'm not talking Schwarzenegger or anything, but he looked like a guy who spent some time at the gym.

  I hated him.

  Whitney finished off her bottle and tossed it in the trash by her bed. She held out her hand towards Sam who seemed more than happy to oblige her. Picking up a drink from the six pack, now down to a three pack, and slapping it in her hand. She twisted the top like a pro and took a gulp.

  Sam glanced at Whitney and I saw his eyes run up and down her body taking in her sexy outfit. Bastard. He took another swig of his drink and shuffled in his spot on the bed. I noticed that when he was done shuffling he wound up slightly closer to Whitney.

  "Those pajamas don't leave much to the imagination, do they?" Sam asked. He shifted again and leaned over her slightly in a position that no doubt gave him a great view down the front of her shirt.

  Whitney looked over at him, no doubt saw him trying to catch a glimpse down her shirt, and smiled! She actually smiled at him! What the hell?

  "It's a lot less than you saw at the pool," Whitney said.

  "I'd like to see you in less than what I saw at the pool," he said with a grin. She slapped his arm lightly.

  "I bet you would, perv," she said.

  What were they talking about? The pool? What happened at the pool? So many questions swirling through my mind. The chief of which was "who the hell is this guy?" And why was Whitney giving him the time of day.

  Whitney leaned over and pinched his arm. "You said you'd behave if I invited you over," she said.

  She giggled and took another deep drink. It was hard to tell even viewing the room in full screen, but it looked like she was almost finished with her bottle. The movie droned on in the background, forgotten.

  "Oh, I'll behave myself," Sam said. He looked down at her bottle. "Looks like you're about ready for another."

  Whitney looked up at him with a smile and bit her lip. "Sam, if I didn't know any better I'd swear you're trying to get me drunk."

  "And what if I am?"

  "Bad boy."

  She bit her lip again! That sexiest of expressions that I loved to see on her face and she was looking at this complete stranger with those lidded eyes doing my lip bite!

  I was sorely tempted to un-mute my microphone and give her a piece of my mind. Of course that would likely mean the end of our relationship. I figured from a combination of me spying on her and the whole her sitting in her room getting drunk with a strange guy thing.

  Only.

  It's weird the twists and turns your mind takes, the convoluted logic hoops your brain jumps through and the conclusions that it comes to when confronted with a situation like this. How you'll respond just isn't the sort of thing you can know until you find yourself sitting there dealing with it.

  Here are just a few of the disjointed thoughts that ran through my mind in that moment.

  One: My little joke of keeping the chat window open to startle Whitney had turned into spying on my fiancée. In a way that she might not appreciate it if it became evident at this point both because people didn't like being spied on and it turned out I had a hell of a good reason to be spying.

  Two: If I did reveal myself at this point then she could say it was an innocent movie between friends. I think we'd both knew that was a load of horse shit, but she could argue the point.

  Three: If that happened then I would most definitely be the bad guy in the argument.

  Four: The only way to not be the bad guy in this argument, when the argument inevitably happened, was to see just how far things were going to go. That statement only sounds as stupid as it is if you've never been in an argument with a girlfriend/wife.

  Five: This might sound odd, and it in no way had more weight than the other four points I've made, no sir, nuh-uh, not at all I swear, but I was feeling a familiar stirring in my dick as I watched my fiancée sitting there on the bed with the strange guy drinking and about to do who knows what.

  Six: Along with that stirring in my cock came a strange want. Desire? No, a need. A need to see what happened. I needed to see what she would do with this guy. The urge was stronger and more overpowering than any need or desire I'd felt since the first night that Whitney and I hooked up back when we started dating.

  In short, turning on the microphone and yelling would end the show. I realized with a mixture of arousal, self-loathing, and just a touch of sickness in my stomach that I wasn't going to be the one that made this show end.

  Sam leaned over and grabbed two fresh bottles from the six pack. Only one left.

  "I have a proposition for you," Sam said.

  Whitney arched an eyebrow. "Oh? What did you have in mind?"

  "A race," Sam said. He held up each of the bottles pressing one into Whitney's open hand even though she still had a half finished bottle in the other.

  Whitney looked at Sam, her eyebrows raised. "What sort of race did you have in mind?"

  Whitney was a little wobbly as she looked between those two bottles. It was obvious that the alcohol was already starting to take its toll on my beautiful fiancée. With her petite frame and her lack of drinking it was no surprise.

  "The race is to see who can chug their bottle first," Sam said.

  "And what does the winner get?" Whitney asked.

  "I think the usual terms are fair enough," Sam said.

  "I don't drink that often. What are the usual terms?" Whitney asked.

  "Oh, not much at all. The loser just has to do whatever the winner asks," Sam said with a grin.

  I half expected her to reach up and smack him. But instead she smiled, looked down at the bottle, and back to him.

  "Anything?"

  "Anything."

  "And you wouldn't take advantage if you did end up winning, right?" Whitney asked with a half smile.

  "I can't make any promises," Sam said.

  "In that case I guess I'm gonna have to win," Whitney said.

  And with that she twisted open her bottle, kicked it back, and started guzzling. Sam had a moment of surprise before he flipped open his own and started chugging. It looked like they were neck and neck for several moments even with Whitney's head start, but eventually Whitney tossed down her bottle and threw her arms up in a show of victory causing her tits to jiggle.

  "In your face," she said.

  "So what do you want, oh great winner?" Sam asked.

  "How about a back rub? Like at the pool?" Whitney asked.

  Shit. When Whitney won I figured that might stop this, but it was clear that the combination of the booze and sitting so close to this guy, coupled with whatever had happened at that damn pool, were making her just as interested in Sam as he seemed to be in her. Sam, for his part, went from looking crestfallen and defeated to his face lighting up as though he was a kid on Christmas.

  "I can do that," Sam said. "But I'm going to need you to move over here."

  He patted the spot in between his spread legs. Whitney rolled her eyes but climbed over him, giving a good view down her shirt as she positioned herself between his legs. Sam placed his hands on her n
eck and started rubbing lightly. Whitney rolled her head from side to side under his ministrations and let out a contented sigh as his hands moved up and down the back of her neck.

  Apparently that sigh was enough to encourage him because his hand moved lower to her shoulders. He continued massaging her shoulders for a few minutes, but his hands slowly crept forward massaging just below front of her neck but never going lower than her shoulders. She leaned her head back so she was resting against his shoulder as his hands continued moving lower in small circular motions. Her head moved from side to side, her mouth hanging open, and she turned and rubbed her lips against his neck!

  Encouraged, his hand moved lower. I watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as the tips of his fingers brushed past the top of her pajama tank top, my cock harder than it had been even earlier when Whitney was doing her little tease.

  His hand paused for a moment though his fingers maintained their dance, keeping up the pretense of the massage. But rather than smack him she continued to nuzzle against his neck. He moved his head to the side to give her better access. It was hard to tell from this angle, but it looked like she was kissing or sucking on his neck.

  Obviously emboldened by this second green light, his hands plunged inside her shirt. I knew from long experience that Whitney wasn't a fan of wearing bras with her pajamas, and there was no doubt that as I watched in aroused horror this strange guy had his hands down the front of my fiancée shirt and was cupping her bare tits in a way that only I had up until this moment. My worst fears in my darkest fantasies were confirmed as she let out a contented sigh.

  I knew that sigh. She was gone.

  Oddly, he kept up the massaging even now that his hands were on her tits. The motion was obvious under the thin material of her pajama top. Whitney moaned into his neck and reached up to pull down the straps holding her top in place. With a flick of his hands the top fell and pooled around her waist.

  As my Whitney's gloriously perky tits popped out, still under assault from this complete stranger's hands, she leaned up and kissed along his jaw. Sam was more than happy to reciprocate. He turned and brushed his lips against hers. Their lips brushed the second time, and then her mouth must've opened to his because a moment later they were sitting against the wall with their mouths locked together in a passionate dance. I could see Whitney grinding her ass against his cock as his hands roamed all over her chest. I could hear the sucking from their kissing even through her tiny computer microphone.

  One of his hands broke away from its exploration of her tits and traced a line down her stomach. And rather than smacking his hand away, as she probably should have considering she was engaged to another man while she was letting this guy manhandle her, she arched her back and grabbed his hand moving it lower.

  Whitney pulled away from the kiss as his hand cupped her pussy through her thin pajama bottoms. "You've gotten this far thanks to the alcohol, but this is as far as we can go."

  "Oh?"

  "I'm still engaged."

  Though you wouldn't guess she was engaged from the way her tits were rising and falling as she thrust her hips up to meet his fingers in their dance across her wet slit.

  His fingers traced up and down through the thin material of her pajama shorts. "This is as far as we can go?"

  Whitney let out a long moan, nuzzling against his neck. "Yes. This feels so good, but we can't do anything else. I'm already being so bad."

  His hands traced up her pussy to her waistband then in a flash they were down the front of her pajama bottoms. Her eyes widened as his hand made contact with her pussy. The front of her bottoms started moving up and down in time with his hand running along the outer folds of her most precious of treasures that had been my exclusive domain up until now.

  "Got it," he mumbled into her ear. "This is as far as we can go."

  "Oh God Sam," Whitney moaned. "That feels so good, but this is absolutely as far as we can take it. I'm enga-oh fuck!"

  "Oh I know," Sam said. His free hand moved from rolling her nipple in between his fingers down to her hand and her engagement ring. He held it up so that the diamond sparkled in the light of the television.

  "And what would your fiancé think if he knew his hot little future wife was sitting in her bed with a strange guy shoving his finger up her pussy?"

  She threw her head back against his shoulder and let out a high pitched moan as she nuzzled his neck.

  "Oh God, he'd be so pissed."

  "What would he think if he knew about the pool?"

  "He probably be even more angry."

  "You don't think he'd be happy to find out what a little slut is fiancée is?"

  Whitney moaned and arched her back as his fingers found just the right spot in their dance across her pajama clad pussy. The front of her pajama bottoms moved up and down as he explored her inner folds and ran his finger around her clit. God, another man had his hands all over my fiancée all I could do was sit here and watch.

  And stroke my own cock.

  "Then you're right," Sam said. "Because I'm sure he'd be very angry if he knew how wet you were with another man's fingers inside you."

  Oh he had no idea. As it was I wanted to hop into my car, drive that five hours, and kill this guy. But there was another part of me, a very turned on part of me, a surprisingly aroused part of me, that needed to see every moment. And if I got in my car and started driving I would miss the show. Even though I hated myself for it I knew that I had to stay and watch. I had to see my fiancée finish this.

  Sam shifted and pushed Whitney almost imperceptibly to the side as he continued moving his fingers in and out. Before long she was laying on her side with him behind her. His fingers were still continuing their steady, and obviously skilled judging by the series of soft quiet moans, exploration.

  I held my breath. He'd stopped fingering her but...

  Shit!

  Her shorts started moving down. Slowly at first. Then faster.

  "And I'm sure that he wouldn't appreciate you having your shorts pulled down by some guy that you just met on your internship," Sam said.

  Whitney answered with a moan and lifted up her ass ever so slightly which allowed him to pull her shorts down even faster.

  "No, he wouldn't," Whitney gasped.

  Sam reached down and pulled his shirt up revealing an impressively muscled chest and abs. In another flash his pants were down and his cock sprang free from his boxers. Now I'd say that I'm probably on the top side of average, but this was something that you usually only saw when surfing porn.

  Apparently Whitney agreed, because she let out a surprised gasp as his cock came into view. Her shorts and his clothes were thrown to the side except for her tank top which was still bunched up around her waist, looking all the more sexy for being the only piece of clothing still on my beautiful fiancée as she lay back on her bed with her legs spread ever so slightly. Her mouth hung open as she stared at his cock.

  "Oh my God. How do you walk with that thing between your legs?"

  Sam moved on all fours until he was hovering over my girlfriend. He looked down at her amazing body underneath his with pure animal lust. His cock hung between her legs moving closer and closer to her pussy.

  "And I'm sure that your fiancé wouldn't appreciate you laying here with some guy naked in between your legs, would he?"

  "Oh God no."

  Whitney gasped and pushed her hips up to meet him as he reached down and brushed the tip of his cock against her pussy lips. He continued to run the head of his cock up and down her wet slit, smiling down at her as she arched her back again and thrust her hips up to meet his.

  "But that's okay Whitney," he said. "Because this is as far as we're going to go, right?"

  She let out another gasp as the head of his cock disappeared inside her pussy. The gasp quickly turned to a delighted moan. "Yes, God yes, this is as far as we can go. It would be so wrong for someone who wasn't my fiancé to fuck me."

  Sam's cock disappeared
even further into my fiancée's pussy. Into that slick, tight, wet treasure that had been my personal pleasure palace for so many years, but which was now being experienced by this guy she just met. By this complete stranger. By this person who I was mentally begging to just fuck my fiancée already, because this was the hottest damn thing I'd ever seen.

  "He definitely wouldn't want me shoving my cock inside your tight pussy like this," Sam gasped out as he pushed forward until he was buried halfway. Whitney let out a grunt and her tits jiggled ever so slightly.

  She looked up at him and smiled as she tossed her head back and forth. "No, that would be so wrong. I definitely don't want you burying that giant cock inside my pussy."

  And with one final thrust accompanied by a groan from Sam and long moan from Whitney, he did just that. The length of his cock split her down the middle until their bodies were pressed together.

  Sam leaned down until his chest brushed against her tits and pulled her into another long deep kiss. No doubt luxuriating in the feeling of his conquest as her pussy wrapped around his cock, milking it and pulsing in that way that I loved so much, that was just for me, and that he was now enjoying.

  "And now that some strangers cock is buried inside you, we definitely shouldn't fuck, right?"

  I had to admire his restraint. If that was me on top of Whitney I'd be pounding away already.

  "Oh God, just fuck me Sam," Whitney said. "I need you to fuck me."

  That request he was more than happy to oblige. His ass moved back and her hips thrust up as he slammed down once more, bottoming out in her pussy with a long moan. She let out a gasp of her own, something that I thought only I would ever hear, and yet here she was on her cam, her perfect petite body under this stranger as he pulled out and pressed back into my fiancées body with a slow thrust that no doubt allowed him to luxuriate in every inch as her pussy wrapped around his cock.

  My own hand danced up and down my cock in time with the fucking on the monitor. I hated myself even as I silently encouraged him to fuck Whitney even harder.