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

by Arnica Butler

  I stood directly behind her, my body against her soft curves. A grin crept into her expression when she felt my erection against her. Her skin was warm and the smell of her soap and her skin curled up in my nostrils. I inexpertly hung the wooden necklace around her neck, and looked up as I fastened it.

  It was surprisingly sexy, the necklace. It was a collection of sharp edges that hovered just along the lines of her curves, almost pointing at them.

  She let her hair drop. “Thank you,” she said.

  I started to move my hands down the outside of her body but she twisted in my hands and put her finger on my lips. “Don't ruffle my dress,” she said. She smiled. “Go have a beer or something. I need to get ready.” She waved me away.

  I backed up but sat on a couch (yes, it was that kind of bathroom) against the outer wall. She gave me a look through the mirror as she leaned in to apply a tiny bit of concealer on her face, but she didn't say anything more.

  There was no way I was going to miss a moment of my wife getting ready to go see her lover.

  The plan, as Jordan outlined it for me, was to meet Tyrese for a date, and then to come back to the condo, after texting me a warning to give me plenty of time to hide.

  She was right that the condo was a perfect place for this “final act” with our extramarital adventures: along the entire wall of the living room, there was a deep closet that closed with beautiful panels of dark wood, with decorative slats in them. Not only that, the closets were neatly organized and there was plenty of room for a grown man to fit inside without crouching or stooping.

  “But also,” Jordan had pointed out, taking me on a tour of the place when we first arrived, “you could hide behind these big curtains, or here in the bedroom, or even you could hide in the bathroom closet if you wanted.”

  I had put my hands in my pockets. We were standing in the bathroom, surveying the tub that looked like a pool, and the shower that rained from the ceiling onto slabs of unpolished granite. I examined the closet, which was the size of my office. The door was made of the same slatted wood as the living room closet.

  I whistled.

  “Uh...I don't know...where were you…?”

  Jordan put her hand on her hip. “That's your choice,” she said. “What do you think?”

  So, like any man who was going to watch his wife having sex with another man, I elected for the most comfortable place.

  We discussed the plan. We had a cocktail. Jordan got ready. I watched her leave.

  And then I stood in the kitchen, alone with my thoughts. My wife, barely wrapped in her gauzy white “dress,” was going to sit at a restaurant with a gorgeous and charming black man. All evening she would be smiling at him and squirming a little because she had a small dildo in her ass, getting ready for a porno-grade performance with him later on.

  My mind, for the first time in a long time, went completely blank except for the anticipation of seeing them together.

  I tested the hallways and practiced my plan. I got myself worked up, imagining everything I was about to taste and see, long before I received Jordan's text. It was early, only 8:00.

  Be there in twenty or so.

  A shiver went through me. I was so close.

  I stood there for a moment, trying to force myself to ask myself if this was really the best idea.

  Then I climbed into the closet.

  Then I climbed out, having decided that, in spite of my erection, I would be an idiot not to take a leak before this whole thing got going.

  A GRAND FINALE

  They came through the door laughing.

  “I'll get the wine,” Jordan said.

  The bulky body of Tyrese came into view in the living room. I had left only one light on. The track lighting in the living room awakened and bathed the room in a pleasant glow. Bright enough to see everything.

  “This is a nice place,” Tyrese said, his hands in his pockets. He was running his eyes over everything, nodding in approval. “You keep this place just for...staying in the city?”

  Jordan was pouring wine. I could only see the bottle and the glasses from where I was, but I knew she was giving him a carefully orchestrated smile to answer “yes.”

  Tyrese let out a low whistle. “Damn. I'm in the wrong business, I guess.”

  “No,” she said. “An inheritance got us this place. We can barely afford the condo fees.”

  This sent a little prick of annoyance through me – I had really enjoyed at least being more financially successful than Tyrese in this scenario, but then I realized Jordan was right to cover our lie casually and right away. Otherwise she might have to explain what I really did for a living. Her lie was a sign of our complicity, hers and mine.

  Just...I would have liked to be rich.

  But also, she was trying to seduce him.

  Also...whatever. It was kind of hot.

  “So you didn't finish this story you were telling me,” Tyrese said. He was examining the pictures on the walls. “About the doctors.”

  I heard Jordan laugh.

  My heart felt like it was getting stomped on. I didn't like, at all, that these two were talking like some long-time couple. I was fine with this guy making Jordan scream while he fucked her in the ass, but I didn't want anyone making my wife laugh like that but me.

  She was in the kitchen. “I dunno,” she said. “Now the momentum is kind of lost.”

  He turned around. “Try me. I was into it.”

  But I could tell from the look on his face, directed at the kitchen where my wife was, he was into a lot more than her story.

  I heard a wine bottle pop. “All right. Where was I?”

  “You went out to dinner with all these doctors and one of them was talking to you...”

  Jordan picked right up. “So I was soooo bored at this point, and this guy was just droning on and on, and on and on, like...such a prick, right? He's like, oh, you're from Boston. Oh, I know a lot of guys there, and then he says, like...I don't know, Victor Martinez or some stupid thing – not him, but some other guy from the Red Sox, right?”

  I looked at Tyrese. He was entertained by Jordan's story. Another wave of pain went through me.

  I struggled to figure out where this story was going.

  Jordan was not from Boston. And as far as I knew she knew nothing about baseball, and she had never gone anywhere with any doctors.

  “And I'm like, what the fuck is this guy talking about, and he's such a meathead for a doctor, and how can I get the hell out of here, you know? So I'm a huge bitch for half an hour, and then I say I have to go, and then I leave, and my friend...god, I don't even remember this girl's name, she comes running after me and she's like what are you doing?”

  There was a pause, while she sipped the wine she had evidently poured.

  “She's like,” Jordan was giggling now, “'Jor, we are hanging out with the fucking Dodgers, and you're being this huge twat!'”

  Tyrese's face broke into a big grin, and Jordan had broken apart into giggles.

  He was shaking his head appreciatively. “Not 'doctors.'”

  This was a good story. I had never heard it, and it almost had to be an invention of hers. She was telling it with a comedic timing that made me have to stifle a snicker. If I hadn't had the counterbalance of my wife flirting with another man right in front of me, and the deep worry that she was sharing with him some part of her life she had never shared with me, I might have laughed out loud.

  But I was also bothered by something. She had used her own name. All along. She must have used it since she met him.

  Or had it been a mistake?

  Why was I more bothered by my wife using her own name than her letting Tyrese touch her in a taxicab?

  “It's still good,” Tyrese said. “What'd you do?”

  Jordan came out of the kitchen. She had kicked off her shoes. She had two glasses of red wine in her hands.

  My breath, quite suddenly, caught in my throat. This was really happening. Right now.


  I wondered if Jordan still had her dildo in her ass, or if she had taken it out. She had been deliciously unclear about her plans.

  Tyrese sat down on the sofa. He so large he would have looked comical sitting there, like a giant in a dollhouse, except that he rested his arms on his knees and looked cool instead.

  Jordan stood in front of him. “Well, it was just...too late to do anything, you know. So I was like, 'whatever, those guys are lame!' and I just took off. Apparently it was a pretty great night, they had a kick-ass party…”

  Tyrese shook his head.

  He pressed his lips together and watched Jordan as she set the wine down on the coffee table.

  “That's a bold dress to have on while drinking red wine,” Tyrese said.

  The comment was an observation, but his voice transformed it into a command. I almost felt it myself, his mesmerizing, alpha power. His eyes were locked on Jordan's, and his mouth was neither smiling nor not. He was a man who was simply going to get what he wanted.

  And what he wanted was for my wife to take off her dress.

  Jordan paused. Then she twisted her hand behind her, and found the zipper of the dress.

  I watched her hand move slowly down, a gash developing in the fabric of the dress, the gauze peeling away to reveal her lightly tanned skin, and the slash of white lace that was her thong.

  The dress slipped from her shoulders and started to slide down her body. Tyrese let his eyes fall with it, taking my wife's glorious body in inch by inch.

  Finally, the dress was crumpled at the floor, and Jordan was all but naked. For a moment Tyrese only stared, and Jordan stood in front of him, letting him drink in the sight of her.

  Then she let her hand drop to the coffee table, and she picked up her red wine. She brought it to her lips, and took a sip.

  I saw a pleased grin spread slowly across Tyrese's cool face, and he brought his own wine glass to his lips. Jordan's effect on him was evident, and even though he was a smooth player, he seemed to have a healthy respect for Jordan's own confidence. He almost seemed to be tipping his hat to her.

  Or maybe he was just used to neglected, white suburbanite housewives throwing themselves at him.

  “Come over here,” he said. He reached his very long arm behind him and set the wine glass on the floor.

  I felt another ribbon of cold streaking through my torso. It was just seconds until I would get to see what I had only so far imagined, over and over again: Tyrese's big black hands on my wife's skin.

  And then more.

  Jordan climbed onto his lap. From where I was, I could now see one bare breast, her nipple square and hard, reaching toward his skin.

  He placed his hands on her back, and shivers of horror and delight went through me at the same time. There it was: his dark hands wrapped around her back, her soft skin beneath his palms. He moved one hand along her back, stroking her lightly up to her shoulder, and back down again. Then both of his hands slid down, down...down to just above the flimsy strip of lace underwear that wrapped around her hips. He rubbed a long finger along the hem of her panties, slowly, teasing her.

  But while he was doing this, his mouth was moving ever-closer to her chest. He was so tall that she was angled upward by his knees, and so when he pushed her forward with the pressure of his hands, which were now entangled in her lace underwear, her hard nipple was right at his mouth.

  He didn't suck it into his mouth immediately, though. He extended his tongue to swirl it over her creamy skin. Jordan's body went stiff in obvious pleasure, and I thought I heard her suck in her breath from across the room.

  His tongue went in circle after circle all over Jordan's breast, moving in closer to her nipple. He made a final circle around her silken areola before he licked the pebble in its center. And then, squeezing her ass with both of her hands to hold her to him, he sucked the whole of her nipple and areola into his mouth. Jordan's hands went to his shoulders, and her body began to twist. But he did not release her for a long time. She moaned a little.

  I wondered what he was doing inside of his mouth that was making her writhe like this: swirling his tongue around her? Nibbling at her with his teeth? Flicking at her hard nipple with his tongue?

  Behind her, he pulled at the material of her thong, and her body stiffened even more as the material stretched away from her back and, almost surely, rubbed hard against her pussy on the other side. Her breast was still imprisoned in his mouth, and her own mouth hung open. She tipped her head back, and her long hair hung down her back, swaying with the movement of her body as she wriggled in his grip.

  He let go of her left nipple with a loud smack, and his head disappeared behind her torso to attend to her right. He released his fierce grip on her thong, and slid his finger down the center of her ass. His other hand swung over the mound of her left buttock, and lifted her to move inward, inward to the sweet flesh between her legs.

  I knew he had already been to this place with my wife, but seeing for myself, it came at me like a belly-flop: the whole front of my body felt as though it had been slammed against a wall. The pain tingled in my skin and ached all the way through to my spine.

  But it was like a belly-flop while while losing my virginity: my cock was hard as a rock. I could feel myself dripping precum into my pants. Even the pain of seeing what I was seeing could not overpower my arousal. My sharp, consuming arousal.

  I knew his fingers were now where he could feel her smooth pussy, and that they were wet with her excitement. That he was feeling the same sweet sensation that I had felt earlier in the day: Jordan's smooth skin, coated in her hot juices.

  I felt my face getting hot. I could barely breath.

  They seemed to fall over, like a felled tree now. But it was just Tyrese, getting Jordan onto the couch, so he could get on top of her and into her. Before they fell into the cushions, he tossed her, and her body went skidding along the couch a few feet. He did as though it were nothing, from his awkward angle. Within seconds he was on top of her.

  He pressed his body – still clothed, disappointingly – against her, and kissed her on the mouth. I watched Jordan's body rise to meet him. The kiss seemed natural, and passionate, and another knife of jealousy went through me. They looked good together. They looked like a couple.

  I almost had to press against my chest, as if the contents of my heart were going to burst out of it. It was so painful, but it was also so hot.

  Tyrese rose to his knees, and Jordan lay on her back, with her legs threaded through his. She watched as reached behind his back and grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head.

  The expensive cotton rippled over his torso, and his black body was unveiled. I stared at his ripped abs, his big arms, his hairless chest, and chiseled wave after wave of hard ebony muscles.

  Jordan had a hand to her mouth. I knew she was smiling at him. Her auburn hair was draped over the edge of the couch. She was twisting between his legs, unable to contain her excitement.

  And then he moved his hand to his zipper. It seemed to happen in slow motion, one tooth a minute.

  And then he stood up, and pushed his underwear and pants down, and quickly got back to where he had been, in one smooth movement.

  He was now naked, but my eyes could only look at one thing:

  His cock.

  It was pointed straight out, hard as steel. From time to time, as he looked down at my wife, it pulsed with his own excitement. It seemed absurdly long from where I was, but perhaps this was only the angle I was at.

  I told myself this.

  It was dark, almost purple, as I had expected. Circumcised, smooth as glass. Only one ripple in its surface, from a vein. It was, I had to admit, an extremely good-looking cock.

  The thickness could not be a trick of the eye, either.

  I remembered Jordan's plans, and I felt both a trickle of fear running down my spine and a sleazy, very lewd ripple of extreme pleasure. This man's cock was going to spread her open wider than she had ever been spread be
fore. I could almost see it now: his cock embedded in her flesh. I could almost hear her flesh stretching, her little squeals of pain and pleasure as he drove further and further.

  Tyrese knelt over Jordan for a moment, his big cock bobbing in the air. His breathing had grown deep and hungry. His eyes were devouring her.

  He reached down, and scooped her legs up. He pushed them up, together, so that her ankles were just inches in front of her face. Jordan let him contort her like a rubber doll. With his other hand, he reached for her panties and slid them up her legs. Then he twisted them, so that they clutched her ankles like handcuffs.

  Jordan's legs spread open as her knees bent. I watched her slide her hands down to her ass, and place them on her buttocks. In this position she was little more than a fuck-toy; a willing one, one pulling herself open to be used.

  By another man.

  I let the cool pain of the thought drip over me.

  Tyrese restrained her with one hand, and used the other to grasp his cock and guide it to her opening. I watched, cold pain and scorching lust churning in the cavity of my heart, as he teased her a little. He moved the tip of his cock over her clit, and she squirmed and gasped at his caress.

  The memory of Jordan, holding my cock and playing with her own clit with my throbbing glans, crashed to the forefront of my mind.

  Rolling behind it came shadows of doubts, waves of paranoia that I thought I had rid myself of.

  The two gestures were so similar. I couldn't help but feel some darkening in the back of my mind. Which one came first?

  But there was no time to think about it, because now the thing I had been so anxiously awaiting and coveting in my mind was happening: Tyrese was going to fuck my wife. His dark cock was going to spread her open, and the warble of pleasure that she made when I fucked her was going to vibrate in her throat – but not for me.

  I didn't have the best view, not the one I would have liked to have, but still I could see it as it happened. My heart felt like a heavy stone, still and cold, as Tyrese's meaty dick sank slowly into my wife's pussy.