Megyn For The Win: A Romantic Hotwife Novel

by Arnica Butler

  There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, and then I heard the sharp inhale of Megyn’s breath. I jerked my finger back from the red “End Call” button.

  Oh yes. The plan.

  I heard a slap of skin. “That was not very helpful,” Megyn said.

  The low rumble of Max’s voice. Unintelligible.

  “I’m serious,” Megyn said. “He’s...” her voice trailed off.

  Then: “Oh God that feels good.”

  I listened, straining to hear as though hearing better would transport me to some kind of visualization, enable me to see what Max Riley was doing to my wife. She hadn’t turned on the camera, and so I only had the sound of whatever he was doing to go by. For a few moments it was just Megyn’s heavy breathing.

  Then I distinctly heard a sloppy, wet sound.

  And then, as Megyn’s voice crescendoed, and she began to pant and say “Oh God, Oh God” over and over again, I realized that Max Riley had his face buried in her pussy, and he was eating my wife out until she screamed.

  I listened to her moan and mewl, and then she hollered as she came – there was no mistaking that sound. I heard the rustling and shifting of their bodies, and then Megyn’s voice again, making sounds that made no sense, low and bawling like an animal.

  Then:

  “Oh!! Go slow. Oh, it’s so big. There. Mmmm...” and she disintegrated again into incomprehensible moans.

  Underneath the sound of her voice I heard the sticky sloshing of her cunt. A quick, steady rhythm, as Max Riley sawed away at her.

  I wondered how they were positioned: doggy style? Or was he lying on top of my wife, with her breasts pressed against his chest and her thighs wrapped around him, her feet scrambling wildly along his lower back as he drove her wild? Or had he propped her ankles on his shoulders and hammered into her as her feet bounced next to his ears? Maybe she had climbed on top of him and was now bouncing over him, her tits bobbing while he watched?

  His own voice began to rise from the lowest layer of the sounds. It was a low, deep growl, and it built up as Megyn gasps and moan became more high pitched and senseless. I started to hear the sound of slapping skin. And all the while the growl of Max Riley, turning from a growl to words.

  Slap slap slap.

  “That’s it baby, come for me baby.”

  Slap slap slap

  “Oh God, oh oh oh!”

  Every sound was wetter, sloppier than the one before. The words they were saying ceased making sense. Finally Megyn let out a howl, a terrifying one, and Max grunted in pleasure. The slapping stopped, and all that was left was the sound of my wife squealing out her orgasm.

  For a moment after Megyn stopped making noise, there was another silence.

  I stared at the blank phone, as though I could make out some image if only I looked hard enough.

  Then panting.

  Then Megyn’s voice again, twisted into a sound of pleasure and a whine. “Oh, no more,” she complained, though it was a half-hearted complaint. “I can’t… I can’t take any more.”

  “You’ll take it, baby doll. You’ll take it and like it.”

  Megyn moaned. “I can’t. Oh! It’s too… it’s too… much...”

  The sound of her pussy was now so sticky it lapped right over their dialogue, even through the phone.

  I listened for what seemed like endless minutes to the sound of Max Riley fucking my wife, his cock slopping in and out of her pussy, her moans changing from overwhelmed to again excited as the time went on. Until she was begging him again to keep going, to fill her up.

  Or at least that’s what it sounded like, without any real words.

  As I listened, I freed my cock from the sweatpants and boxers I was lounging in, and stroked myself to a climax that preceded theirs by little more than seconds. After I came, I heard my wife begin to scream, and then the sound of their wet skin slapping hard together, and then a full, heavy-bodied grunt, a sharp yell, and Max Riley came.

  I pictured them writhing together, their dark and light skin twisting into wet, sticky ropes as they wound around each other like a knot of snakes. Did he still have his cock inside of her? When he kissed her did he slide his tongue around, outside of her mouth, darting around playfully, their spit mingling in the open air?

  I was panting as well, and so I turned up the volume on my phone. As if I could hear more than what I heard: the sound of two people after they had sex, murmuring, sticking together, kissing. The shifting of their bodies on the furniture, Megyn’s light laughter muffled by Max’s skin close to her mouth.

  This went on as I sat up and stared into the dark night outside the window.

  A heavy thud. A little giggle.

  A slap, the unmistakable sound of a man slapping a woman’s ass lightly, after fucking her.

  Footsteps, fading.

  A little shriek in the distance.

  Sounds of two people, coming together and then playfully falling apart, then back together again. Further away with each second.

  They were goings somewhere else, and the phone was not going with them.

  I took another swig of whiskey and waited to hear something. Waited, and waited.

  I lay on my side, the phone next to me.

  And that’s how I fell asleep, straining to hear Max and my wife again.

  The sound of the door woke me up. The over-strong slam! of a hotel door.

  I sat up. One glance told me the phone had died. It was bright, morning light streaming in to the room, unnoticed by me until that moment.

  I sat up and turned around.

  Megyn was standing there, dressed in the same outfit as the night before. Her hair was a mess, and it was the first thing I noticed.

  She tossed her room key and another, jingling set on the bed and peeled her blazer away from her shoulders. “I just came back to shower and change,” she said.

  I was still staring at her, half-awake, wondering if this was a dream.

  “It’s like seven o’clock,” she said to me, and I wasn’t sure what she was implying with the tone.

  “I have to get going,” she continued.

  When I didn’t respond to any of this, she shrugged and unbuttoned her blouse, turning at the same time and walking toward the bathroom.

  Slowly, slowly, everything I had seen and everything that had happened the night before made their way through my brain and connected:

  My wife was standing in the hotel room, taking off her clothes. Her hair was sticky with either sweat or – a shudder went through me – another man’s cum.

  “Megyn!” I hissed. I jumped out of bed. “Wait. Come back here.”

  She leaned out of the bathroom. Her shirt was off and she was unfastening the back of her skirt. I saw that her bra was intact, though like everything else it looked… ruffled. She smiled at me. “Oh. I thought you weren’t even interested,” she said, almost coyly.

  “Come here,” I said. As the memories of the night before were spreading, branching out into my body, my cock was getting hard.

  “I have to be at the Convention Center by eight,” she said, but she came toward me, still fiddling with the hook of her skirt. The garment fell to her feet when she finally unhooked it, and she stepped out of it neatly.

  She was wearing one of the lingerie sets I had purchased for her– what seemed like such a long time ago – at the lingerie store. The white one, with the strange blue shading.

  I looked her up and down as she approached me. Her hair did in fact seem to be stuck together in several streaks – one near her forehead and one next to her ear – with what I assessed to be, by its astringent scent, Max Riley’s cum. I reached forward and turned her slowly around by pushing on her shoulder. Her butt was red again, though not nearly so much. When she faced me again I noticed the streaks of mascara she had failed to wipe away, and the slight puffiness to her lips. Lips that had clearly been stretched and distended by sucking on so much cock.

  “It looks like you’ve had quite a
night,” I said.

  She put her hand on her hip. “Did you hear it?”

  I pushed her onto the bed; now that I saw her like this my need was far too great to stand there teasing each other. I yanked her panties to mid-thigh, where I grew impatient as they rolled up and were hard to pull away. They were wet, soaked all the way through.

  “I didn’t shower at Max’s,” she said, looking at my face for my reaction.

  I abandoned trying to slide her panties off. I grabbed her by the knees and pushed her legs open in a frog-like position. The expensive underwear shredded, and Megyn made a light face, but we were soon on to other things.

  I stared at her pussy, which was fucked so full of cum not long ago that it was positively gushing. She squeezed her cunt and a trickle of creamy white cum oozed from inside of her. Her bare lips and the tender insides of her folds were distended and glistened with all the fluids that coated them.

  “How many times did you fuck him?” I breathed.

  “The one you heard,” she said. As she paused, she moved her hand down to her pussy and slid her fingers into the soaked mess between her folds. I watched as her fingers became coated in the filthy mess Max Riley had left behind of her cunt, and then my wife – my sweet wife – brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked it from them. “And then two more times. We were up all night.”

  I pushed her legs apart further and fell into her sodden, practically liquefied hole. She was hot and so wet that there was almost no friction on my cock, but it didn’t matter: I had only to feel her hot flesh around me, and think of how just an hour before, maybe even less, Max Riley’s thick black cock had been exactly where mine was now, to go nearly to the edge.

  I lay on top of her as I pumped into her. She writhed in obvious discomfort, mixed with her pleasure. She had to be sore and worn-out, if they had gone at it all night like that. “Did you suck his cock, too?” I groaned, playing with her hair with my fingers, right where it was stuck together by the cum he had evidently spurted all over her face.

  She just smiled. She knew I knew the answer to that.

  I slid one hand into the soaked folds of her cunt, alongside my cock, and drew the juices that were gushing from inside of her to coat my own fingers. Then I brought my hand up to her mouth, three fingers clustered together.

  I didn’t have to say anything to her. Her mouth was open even before I said: “Show me.” Her lips were already closing around my knuckles, spread wide, her cheeks puffed out like they would be if she had a very large cock in her mouth, before I even asked her to do it. And then I fucked her mouth with my fingers and her disloyal, cum-filled cunt with my cock until I came, which may not have taken very long.

  I felt her spasm around me, so she might have come, but hen she might have been too worn out for any more. I lay on top of her, panting, my cock awash in her sloshy pussy that felt like hot oil in a bed of butter. She licked my fingers as I withdrew them from her mouth.

  We lay like that for only seconds, and then she tapped me on the shoulder. “Honey,” she said impatiently. “I have to go.”

  I rolled off of her but pulled her with me, trying to wrap her up in my arms.

  She kissed me, and the kiss was filthy, tasting of her cum, but with the bitter undertone of another man’s seed somewhere along her lips. “I have to go,” she said, smiling. “I have to get ready. I can’t be late.”

  She squirmed away from my arms and hurried into the bathroom. “Oh my god,” I heard her say. “I can barely walk.”

  She showered, while I lay there in a daze.

  When she came out she hurried to the closet, where she had hung her clothes, and dressed more quickly than seemed humanly possible, in a stunning green blouse and black skirt. The clothes were old, but they seemed enhanced, like everything around me did.

  She crawled onto the bed to kiss me. “Gotta go. But I’m coming back in the afternoon for a nap.”

  Then she leaned in close to me, and her next words traveled down my spine like a razor shaving away the tiniest bit from the most sexual thread of nerves:

  “Max wants something and I need to practice it with you first.”

  My body felt as though it had been thrown against a wall. My ears were ringing as she kissed me again, backed away, put on her shoes, and smiled at me.

  I must have been frozen, a look of such stupid disbelief on my face. She smiled, waved, and said she’d be back as soon as she could.

  And then she was gone.

  13: TRAINING

  I had another long day, much like the one before although maybe more tormented.

  Megyn came back to the hotel at three.

  “Umph!” she said, throwing herself on the bed on her back with her arms up above her head. She closed her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

  I rose up from the desk and crossed the room to sit next to her on the bed. Her face was still, and she almost looked like she had already fallen asleep. I stroked her hair, and worried for a moment that she was actually going to want to sleep this afternoon.

  My cock had been throbbing with desire all day long. The idea that I might get denied right then, for want of sleep, caused a wave of rage to pass over me. I knew it was unreasonable, unloving, uncaring, but I had a brief moment of fury, thinking about how it was my right to claim her, I had been waiting for it all afternoon, after all!

  Just as my pulse started racing, though, Megyn began to make a snoring noise.

  An incredibly fake snoring noise, and Megyn doesn't snore anyway.

  Her eyes flew open and she grinned at me. “Had you going, didn’t I?” she said.

  The tension drained out of me and I tried my best to seem like a light-hearted, casual guy as I swung my legs up onto the bed and she crawled in my direction to rest her head on my chest.

  “I knew it all along,” I joked. We entwined our fingers.

  Megyn yawned. “I am very tired,” she said.

  “Do you prefer to take a nap?” I asked, and the insincerity was too much even for me to handle.

  Megyn snorted as she laughed at me. She turned her head to look up at me. “Yeah, right,” she said. Then she settled on my chest again.

  She dropped the hand she was holding mine with to my crotch, where she felt my burgeoning erection. “I mean, maybe you want to just rest, too,” she said, and I could feel the grin on her face through my shirt.

  “What time are you going to see Max?” I asked.

  She was rubbing my cock through the sweatpants (I still hadn’t changed) by bringing three of her fingers together at the crown and then spreading them out to travel down the length of my shaft, as far as she could go through the material. She did this in languid strokes, almost like she was playing with a toy absent-mindedly.

  “That’s the thing,” she said. “He told me he’d call. He could call at any moment.”

  I shivered.

  “He could even show up here,” she said. She shrugged.

  Her fingers slid beneath the elastic waistband of the sweats, and she found my cock with her hand. She worked it out from underneath the elastic and held it.

  “So what’s this thing you need to practice,” I said, my voice shaky as she rubbed the length of my cock, her lips just a few inches from it.

  “Oh that,” she said, and her breath was hot against the crown of my dick. “I don’t know if I should do it or not.”

  My cock twitched in her hand.

  “I just get this feeling,” she continued. “And I think he wants to, you know… have anal sex.”

  The jolt that went through me made my cock slap out of her hand. It traveled all through my body, into my fingertips even. I sucked in my breath. “Do you… is that…?”

  To be clear: anal sex, when I was doing the sexing, wasn’t exactly my thing. A lot of guys I’ve talked to find this mystifying.

  But the idea of my wife having anal sex with another man… well, that was something else entirely. It was so unspeakably hot that I couldn’t articulate a single thoug
ht.

  “I know it’s weird,” she said, and she brought my cock even closer to her mouth, so I could feel the heat of her breath even when she wasn’t talking. She ran her tongue over her upper lip, and my whole body went rigid with desire. I stared as she spoke, her lips so close to my cock that it almost seemed as though she were caressing it, yet so far away that I felt like clawing at her to get my dick in her mouth.

  “I know it’s weird but I think I want to try it. I’ve never… you know. But I think if I did it… I don’t know, his cock is just so… big, that I wouldn’t try it with him first.”

  Her tongue left her mouth and licked the crown of my cock then, so quickly I wasn’t even sure it really happened.

  “Maybe I want to just try it,” she said.

  Her tongue made another pass, this time along the ridge of my dick, skating over the edges of the glans and then retreating again into her mouth. Her hand moved slowly along the length of my shaft. “The only thing is, I want to stop if, you know… it isn’t...”

  “Of course,” I said, almost a little too excitedly.

  She looked up at me. “I know you're not super into it,” she said. “But...” She twisted her body and got on her hands and knees so her face was over my cock. She slid her lips over the length of it, all the way to the base, swallowing me in her hot, wet hole. She let me go with a wet pop when she reached the top, and my cock bobbed like a bronco when she released me from her mouth. “I can make it worth your while if you’ll do me this favor. Because I don’t think my pussy can take a whole night with him again.”

  “Jesus,” I said, involuntarily. I stared at the woman hovering near my cock, her dark eye makeup, her tongue traveling lasciviously over her upper lip, her eyes wild with desire. Her mouth spewing all this filthy, filthy smut.

  Was this woman actually my wife?

  Before I had time to think about it, she rose up on her knees and lifted her green blouse over her head. She unhooked her bra and then hopped to her feet. In a matter of seconds, her clothing was falling to the floor – panties, skirt and all.