A Well-Laid Trap 2: The Story Of A Professional Hotwife

by Arnica Butler

  “Again,” I said. “Do it again.” I leaned over her, and pushed her ass wide open. I let a drop of spit fall from my mouth. It landed just above her hole, in her crack, and she reached with her hand to draw it down, down to her hole. She made another circle around her ass.

  I spit again, and this time I hit my target. Jordan swirled her juices and my spit around, wetting the rim of her asshole.

  I wanted to watch her forever, but the ache in my cock was becoming almost too much to bear. I guided my cock to her pussy, and she lightly raked her fingernails along my shaft. I slid in, enveloped in her hot, super-click cunt. I felt her fingertips making the same lazy circles on my testicles.

  It would have been easy to stay there until I came, gently moving inside of her wet cunt, letting her squeeze the cum from my balls. But the pink eyehole of her ass beckoned me. I wasn't going to miss a chance to get my cock inside of that superheated flesh, especially if it was all in the name of stretching her out and training her for another, bigger, cock.

  A shudder went through me.

  I slid out of her, an inch at a time. I enjoyed the sight of my cock slowly withdrawing from inside of her, coated in her juices. The image of a darker, bigger cock doing precisely that floated through my mind, and I felt my orgasm threatening to surge up right then.

  I panted behind her, staring at her ass.

  “Hold it open for him,” I said. “I think he'll want you to do that.”

  Jordan placed her hands on her asscheeks. The submissive gesture sent another ripple through me, and I felt my cock twitch wildly in the air.

  I would have normally asked if she was sure she wanted this, as a matter of gentlemanly conduct, but there seemed to be no doubt, given everything that had transpired this evening and the lewd scene now before me, that she did.

  I pressed my cock against the ring of her anus, and leaned over her to spit one final time. The spit was warm and swirled around the tip of my cock, dripping down the bottom and probably into her pussy. I pushed forward.

  Jordan mewled, a little, strangled gasp of pain at the end of her cry. But she pushed back against me, encouraging me to go further.

  As the tip of my cock disappeared inside of her tight hole, I remembered how thrilling this had been the first time. I pushed further, and felt her ass clench and then almost burst open for me, letting me sink inside of her. All the way in, my entire cock sheathed in her hot flesh.

  She gasped when I crushed my balls against her pussy, my entire cock stretching her open.

  I let her squirm there, her ass still, occasionally, clenching against my cock and making her gasp.

  “Just relax,” I said. I massaged her lower back, and felt her calming down around my dick. Her ass relaxed a little.

  I slowly pulled back, and Jordan howled again. I felt her clench around me. Her fingers dug into the flesh of her ass. I stopped.

  “Keep going,” she said. “Keep going.”

  I moved slowly, until just the tip of my cock was inside of her. Then back down.

  We did this a few times, and slowly, Jordan's body relaxed. Her howls turned to the same sexual purrs that she ordinarily made when I fucked her pussy. She unclamped her fingernails from her flesh. There were purple welts where she had dug into her skin.

  “How do you think Tyrese is going to fuck you?” I said. “Slow, like this? Or hard and fast?”

  Jordan mewled again. “Oh. Oh fuck me, fuck me hard. He's going to make me take it hard.”

  I rammed myself inside of her. “First make yourself come,” I said. “Get your hand up there and make yourself come.”

  I felt Jordan's fingers obeying my command, her forefinger working fast along the hard ridge of her clit.

  Now her ass was squeezing my cock again. She was nearing her own release, and I would feel it harden the flesh surrounding my cock as she screamed into the pillow.

  I tried to distract myself so I wouldn't come. It wasn't easy, as Jordan thrashed around beneath me, her pussy gushing onto my balls, her ass pulsing around my cock.

  When I was sure she had come hard, and was exhausted, I began to pump into her. I grasped her hips and began to pummel her. She braced herself by pressing her hands flat against the bed on either side of her head.

  It only took the single thought of Tyrese's cock, instead of mine, pistoning in and out of Jordan's tight ass, to send me past the point of no return. I slammed myself deep inside of her, and I felt my cum fill her ass.

  “Fuck, that feels good,” she said.

  I thrust one final time deep inside of her, and she squeaked with pleasure.

  I panted, kneeling over her with my cock still inside of her, for a full minute. Then I pulled back and let my cock slide out of her. I watched her ass throb closed, my cum draining from inside of her. I made a circle around her ass with my finger. I thought of seeing this same image, but knowing it was the cum of another man, of Tyrese. And I was almost certain that I felt arousal snake around anew inside of me.

  Jordan flipped onto her side, and then her back, kicking her legs up playfully.

  “That was hot,” she said.

  I grabbed a foot and pressed it to my chest so I could run my hand along the length of her calf. I kissed her toe, and she giggled and jerked it away. “Stop it, Jesus, I'm so ticklish there!”

  She jumped up and practically skipped to the shower. “Let's get cleaned up. We still have more things to practice, though. So don't think you're getting off the hook.”

  I wouldn't dream of it.

  T HE PLAN

  There was only one small hitch to this “perfect resolution,” and that was finding a way to manipulate things so that I could have a good, if not great view, of Jordan with Tyrese. If we were going to wrap up this chapter of our lives in this single act, then I wanted front-row seats.

  This led to all kinds of preposterous ideas, like stuffing me into a linen closet in a hotel basement, and worse.

  Jordan had suggested that perhaps we could just ask Tyrese if he would be into letting me watch him with her. It would be logistically much easier than the outrageous plans we were concocting.

  Apparently, they had even talked about it on their date. Jordan had nearly given me a heart attack when she said this, because she had given me the impression that they had actually talked about her, me, and him. Specifically.

  “No,” Jordan had laughed, when my face went pale. “No, he's just...it was just a general conversation, because he knows I'm married.”

  She had looked at me, and I had apparently looked wildly unconvinced. The last thing I needed was to be running up for election to the State Supreme Court fifteen years from now and have a man pop up on the news saying Judge Goodall had asked him to bang his wife in front of him. Yeah, I could hear him saying in this infelicitous future, yeah he wanted a black man to do it, because he said, and I quote, “black men have huge [bleep].”

  “It wasn't like that,” Jordan had explained. “I asked him if he dated a lot of married women, and he started laughing, and he was like, 'you would not believe some of the things people ask me to do,' and that's how the subject came up.”

  I didn't know much, but at least I was decisive about this one possibility, which was that it wasn't a possibility. I definitely had to be anonymous, no matter how casually Tyrese was willing to have sex with other men's wives in front of them.

  “It's okay. You could hide in the shadows, you know like in a documentary,” Jordan had teased.

  I had smiled for her, but the idea of her joking about all of this and having such a frank conversation with Tyrese on her date disturbed a little. And not in the most pleasant way. I was definitely excited about seeing her with him, but a part of me was also almost as excited to have it all over with, and make sure the relationship ended there.

  Before I really lost control.

  But in just a few days, Jordan had again managed to save the day. “I have the perfect idea. Are you ready? It's so great.”

  Jordan was
shaking with excitement, her fists clenched up in little balls at either side of her head.

  I had just come home. It was 9:30, and she had been waiting for me in the kitchen with barely-contained elation.

  “Uh...”

  This could be anything. Still, a flutter traveled through my abdomen, hoping it was something I wanted.

  Hoping it was the thing I wanted.

  “So you know how Doug and Marie are always going out of town and offering up their condo for the week?”

  “Uh...” I racked my brains. “No.”

  Jordan let her head fall back. “Oh god. Will you please get on Facebook like everyone else in the world?” She tilted her head back to look at me. “Anyway. They do, and they always want money for it which is just...so cheap, and plus what are you going to do with a condo downtown for a week, right?”

  I squeezed my eyes.

  “But what if we rented it for the week, or even just the weekend, and then we'd have the perfect place to...you know?”

  Now I knew what she was saying. A pang of arousal slapped through me.

  I squinted into thin air, trying to imagine how this was a better plan than, say...

  “It's a better plan,” Jordan said, echoing my thoughts, “than, say, a hotel. Because there will be all kinds of places for you to hide. Don't you remember their place? It has these big, crazy curtains, and it has a weird closet thing, and all these...” she was looking at me and could see that I had no idea what she was talking about. “Anyway. It's just, like...a lot better than anything else we were thinking about.”

  I remembered Tyrese's physique and military background with a shudder. I could already see myself getting mistaken for a burglar and bashed to death in a downtown condo with my pants around my ankles.

  I squinted some more. It was a new habit of mine, as though there were something in the air that would give me more direction than my own, apparently useless, mind.

  “So…? Should I tell them we want the apartment?”

  I was off in outer space.

  “Who?”

  “Doug and Marie, Paddy, Jesus.”

  Doug and Marie…Doug and Marie. I had no idea who these people were.

  But I knew I wanted to see Jordan with Tyrese. And I knew I wanted it sooner rather than later.

  “Yeah...wait….when?”

  Jordan smiled her coy little smile.

  “Next week.”

  R EADY

  The arrangements were made by Jordan.

  The unease that would not leave me alone began to creep back into my mind; the sense of losing control over my wife, and my marriage, and myself. It was easy enough to have come to the conclusion that all of these things had happened long before we started down this particular road in our marriage, but saying that to myself didn't help me feel better about it.

  At the same time, the thought of Jordan with Tyrese had me salivating.

  I liked the idea that we were staging a final act, but it almost seemed too good to be true. What would we do after this? How would we go on with our marriage?

  And always, the little chorus of doubt piped up in the back of my mind: and what if Jordan changed her mind? What if she didn't want to stop, or stop seeing him? What if she told me she did and then didn't?

  I wouldn't have been able to tell anyone what happened in court. I went through the motions of my job almost like a zombie. Leaving the courthouse on Tuesday I had the terrifying sensation of having driven for hours and not realized where I was. Except it was an assault trial, not a drive home.

  I needed to get my life the hell back on track.

  Jordan made the date for Saturday night, and obtained Olivia's (questionable) services staying with our kids. I remembered Olivia's “gentleman friend” and thought of asking her to keep him out of the house, but thought better of it.

  “So that's it,” I said, as Jordan stood in front of her ever-burgeoning closet on Friday night, deciding which dress to wear.

  She selected a dress from the rack and held it up for me. I shook my head.

  Did she hear me? Was she even listening to me anymore?

  “So that's it,” I repeated.

  Jordan smiled without looking over at me. “I heard you.”

  She pulled a white dress from the closet and held it up.

  “It's good,” I said.

  She peeked over the top of it. “I don't just want 'good,'” she said. “It has to be hot. Since we're making it sort of a grand finale.”

  “About that...”

  Jordan folded the dress over her arm and sighed. “Paddy. No more indecision. Please.”

  “It's not indecision. It's just….”

  She leaned toward me. “In-de-ci-sion,” she mouthed.

  She pressed her finger to my lips. “Before you say anything, let me tell you one last thing I have planned for tomorrow. Then you can waffle all you want.”

  So I never did end up having that conversation.

  Saturday afternoon, I found myself in Doug and Marie's spacious condo downtown. The place looked like it had come out of the pages of an interior design magazine. Clearly, Doug and Marie did not have children, and they did not sit on their own couch.

  “This is super uncomfortable,” I commented, sitting on the square, art-deco sofa.

  “Looks great, though,” Jordan breathed.

  I frowned. This was at the back of everything: I always wondered what would have happened if Jordan and I had not had kids so early. What Jordan would have done with her life. If she thought about and longed for a life where she had a better career and an apartment like this downtown.

  “Do you ever wish our lives had turned different?” I said.

  Jordan sat down on the couch. She bounced a little. She lay back. The sofa was deep and she ended up crumpled uncomfortably and sliding down the back of it. Her eyes looked over at me, and she stuck out her lower lip.

  “Nah,” she said. She sat up. “This couch is not comfortable.”

  “Looks good, though,” I suggested.

  Jordan snorted and rolled her eyes. “This is such a cliched metaphor.”

  We kissed.

  “I love my comfortable couch,” she said. She bounced again. “This is terrible,” she affirmed, patting the couch.

  Then she hopped up.

  “Now,” she said. “Let's get cracking. I have to be at Antonio's by seven, and I want to look my best.”

  My cock was already way ahead of her, remembering the reason it was that I had not felt the need to go on waffling the night before.

  An hour or so later, Jordan was leaned over the counter in the spectacular bathroom of the condo. I took a moment to savor the view: her panties just below her ass, stretched by her slightly-spread legs. She was turned around and smiling at me, holding a small silver dildo in her hand. It shone with the lubrication she had applied.

  I pushed her buttocks apart and looked at the eyelet of her ass, above her glistening pussy. It was tight and dull pink, as though nothing had ever been inside there. I wondered if it would ever be the same after Tyrese was inside her.

  I trailed my finger along her outer labia to slide some of her excitement upward to her ass. She smiled and closed her eyes. I made a circle around her asshole, and her body tensed with pleasure. Her mouth popped open a little. She breathed raggedly as I treated her to one more swirl.

  “Don't get any ideas,” she said. “I don't want to have to shower again.”

  You mean you want to be fresh for your “date.”

  I took the dildo from her hand, which she had placed back on the counter to steady herself. Her face was flushed. “I'm not the only one getting ideas,” I said, and she smiled. I brought the dildo to her ass and pressed on it gently. She opened her mouth and let out a long breath as I pushed it slowly inside of her.

  I moved a hand around her waist, and then traveled up her chest to stroke her breasts. Beneath my fingers, her nipples turned to hard stones. I lifted her and pressed her up against my ches
t. “It's hardly fair,” I whispered, “to make me do this and then tell me I can't get any ideas.”

  I pushed her hair up and kissed her neck. I let my other hand travel down her side. She jerked sideways as I passed over her ribs, giggling. It was the leave-me-alone-giggle, a staple of the earlier years of our marriage when the kids were young.

  As I had then, I ignored it and marched forward with the brave conviction that it didn't mean that at all.

  Jordan squirmed away from me. “I have to finish getting ready.” She swatted at my hand. “You'll get everything you want soon enough.”

  She was smiling, but she was firm. She took her new lingerie from a chair in the spa-like bathroom.

  I watched her slide her lace panties up the length of her leg, and adjust them across her hips. She tucked the black ribbon of the dildo into the material, but it was still visible along the crevice between her buttocks, where the lingerie was no more than a flimsy strip of lace.

  “What about that?” I said.

  She smiled. I'll find a way to get it out before he sees it,” she said. She looked over her shoulder at her magnificent ass, and then back up at me. She winked. “Or not.”

  She pushed her breasts into a matching bra that was even more revealing than the panties: very fine lace formed the skeleton of the bra, but the material that spread over her breasts was nearly transparent.

  It was strange to me that I wasn't more used to the pangs of icy or boiling blood that shot through me when Jordan said or did certain things, but I was not. My blood seemed like molten lava for a second, and I shuddered.

  Jordan slipped the mostly sheer white dress over her body. This one was more casual than her first-date dress (and less expensive), but it was no less sexy. Slashes of white fabric covered her breasts and eight inches or so of her hips, but the rest of the dress was a gauzy transparent white. Another white layer hung over it, so she wasn't bare at her navel, or from her buttocks down...but her skin flashed through the fabric.

  My cock throbbed.

  She handed me a clattering necklace of wooden chunks and turned back to face herself in the mirror. “Put that on for me, would you?”