Yes: A Hotwife Romance

by Jason Lenov

  The smile came back. Wider now. A smile of...was it understanding?

  "I guess you did," she replied, her fingers snaking once more in between my thighs. "Is there something I don't know about you, Charlie Sampson?" she mused.

  I didn't know what to say. It seemed there was something I didn't know about myself. I looked down at the feeling of her fingers tugging at my buckle. When I looked back up into her eyes she was still smiling. Still staring.

  She looked so appetizing, sitting sideways in the car seat. Her ass curving out, begging to be touched. I stared down at the cleft of her cleavage. I felt the urge to tear her shirt off and bury my face in those two soft mounds of flesh.

  She must have seen me looking because she glanced down at herself. When she looked back up she was smiling, seemingly as pleased with the way she looked as I was.

  "Do you like it when other men look at me Charlie?" she cooed. What was that note in her voice? A gentle, teasing sound but with desire ringing underneath.

  I swallowed. She was looking at me intently. Her fingers had pried open my belt and I felt them on my pants now, twisting at the button the sliding my zipper down slowly..

  "I..." I started, then lost my nerve.

  As if on cue, as if she knew what I wanted to say, she started prodding me again. "Is that why your cock is hard Charlie? Is it because that big, brawny farm-hand couldn't stop staring at your wife?"

  I sucked in air as her fingers touched my now rigid shaft. I looked down to see she'd pulled me out and was stroking my cock slowly. I felt myself flex at her words.

  Big, brawny farm-hand.

  She had seen him. She'd seen him looking. And unless I was completely crazy, she'd loved it.

  "I guess that's a yes, again?"

  I looked up to see her grinning as her fingers tightened around my hard cock. It was like being in a dream, one where my wife had somehow crawled inside my head and found a secret I hadn't even known myself. I shook off my final inhibition, swallowed again and whispered, "Yes."

  The admission brought an even wider grin.

  "What were you thinking about then, Charlie? Watching him watch me like that?"

  I just shook my head, sinking deeper into the stupor of this fantasy that had come alive.

  "Were you thinking of what he'd do to me if you weren't there, Charlie? Were you thinking of what him and that big friend of his would do to your wife if she were there all alone? Without you?"

  With wide eyes and an open mouth, I nodded for her to go on.

  Watching my every reaction, her soft, silky stroked me lightly as she spoke.

  "Because you know they probably wouldn't have been nearly as nice if it had just been me. I bet Jimmy wouldn't have just stared at me like that. A woman alone on a dark road? A truck pulls up, she jumps out waving to them for help. I bet Jimmy wouldn't have thought twice about bending me over the hood of this car. Hiking up my skirt. Peeling off my panties and shoving his big, thick farmer cock into my sopping cunt."

  "Holy fuck..." I breathed, my voice a few notes higher than I'd expected.

  My cock began to bounce in her hand. I was going to come.

  She must have felt it too. She leaned in close. "Oh my, Charlie. You are into some dirty shit."

  I was staring into her eyes, wondering what she'd say next.

  "You know what?" she asked, her grip tightening around my rigid flesh. My cock spasmed in her fist.

  I shook my head.

  "I'd let him do it, too," she whispered, leaning close. "Hell, I'd reach back and spread myself open and let him ram that big thing into my pussy. I'd probably cry a little. But not because I didn't like it, Charlie. Because I bet he's hung like a fucking horse and my pussy's never been stretched that wide."

  Still tugging me, she gave each pull a little twist at the head of my cock. The extra motion sent me over the edge.

  The image of Jimmy jamming his cock into my wife as she cried on the hood of our car pushed me over. With a shout, I felt my seed pulsing through my shaft. I wanted to look down, stare at her hand around my cock. But I couldn't break her stare. Those eyes. Those sinful eyes.

  She rubbed the rest of my orgasm slowly out of me. Until I was shaking and shuddering in the seat. I looked down finally to see her hand covered in cum. She brought it up to her mouth, staring at it, turning her hand this way and that so it didn't drip.

  She smelled it on herself. My eyes widened, even more.

  "Have you been eating a lot of pineapple Charlie?" she asked, matter-of-factly as could be. Without another word, she swallowed her entire index finger and all the jizz I'd left there with it. She pulled that finger slowly, so slowly, out of her mouth.

  I'd just come but I felt my cock twitch again, just from watching her do that.

  "Mmmmm..." she purred.

  The sound of a truck rumbled up behind us. Headlights lit up the mirrors. I looked down to see white spots of cum already soaking into my dark pants.

  "You better clean yourself up!" she sang. She leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, then pushed the door open and sprang out. "Hi!" I heard her shout to the tow truck driver behind us.

  I fumbled with my cock, stuffing it back into my pants and trying to wipe away the stains of my own white seed. When I got out of the car, she was smiling, laughing with the burly tow truck driver.

  A rumble of exciting jealousy shook through me. This was a strange revelation and I wasn't sure what was happening to me.

  A little more disconcerting was the fact that I had no idea what was happening to my wife.

  Chapter 6

  "Charlie, for fuck's sake, I left them right here!" Angie screamed at me pointing two fingers at the spot on the counter her car keys had allegedly been.

  "I'm sorry I..." I started but she cut me short.

  "Fuck it!" she snapped, with a palm up in the air, "I'm taking yours."

  She ripped my keys from where they were hanging on the wall, scooped up her giant purse and started towards the door. The purse brushed a vase standing on the sideboard in the hall. I watched it fall, almost in slow motion like in the movies. Had I wanted to, I probably could have caught it.

  "Fuck!!!" Angie screamed as the thing shattered behind her.

  I sighed.

  "Fuck, Charlie, I'm sorry...oh fuck, I'm sorry but I have to go. I have to go and open or we'll be late starting prep again." Her eyes were pleading.

  "Go. I'll take care of it. Just go." I waved her out the door.

  Her shoulders drooped a little. "Fuck, Charlie. I'm a bitch. Why do you put up with me? I'm a total fucking bitch."

  I couldn't help but chuckle. Talk about hot and cold. "Just go. You can pay me back later."

  That seemed to cheer her up. "I will. I promise." She winked, then spun then sailed out the door. She gave it a good yank, sending it flying until it closed with a satisfying thud.

  I took a deep breath. What could I do? I was just really into her.

  We'd barely talked, the night before, about what had happened in the car. We'd left it at the mechanic's and taken a cab home. Not much you can say about that in a cab. By the time I got out of the shower, she was already asleep.

  I would have brought it up over breakfast but for some reason the alarm didn't ring and when we woke up it was nine in the morning and she was already late.

  I stood there wondering whether I should mop or sweep the glass up first. My thoughts sailed backwards, to the previous night.

  What a strange thing to discover about myself, that I was turned on thinking about my wife with another man. What a stranger thing still for her to figure it out like that.

  It had been incredibly hot, what she'd done, what she'd said to me, but now for some reason I wanted to talk to her about it. I wanted to explain myself to her, that it was just a fantasy. Or maybe I just wanted to explain myself to myself.

  A flicker of fear flashed through me. It was absurd but I caught it and held onto it.

  My wife. My wife thought I liked it when
other men paid attention to her. What if my wife thought that I wanted her to sleep with another man?

  My wife was going to work. Will was at work. Will was another man.

  Okay, so maybe here I got a little confused, mixed things up a little. It hadn't been Angie who'd had that fantasy of seeing Will's hands on her. She had no idea about it. Suddenly, though, the thought that she knew about my kink made it seem infinitely more probable that she would take what she'd learned and run with it.

  What if she were pulling into work just now? What if Will were waiting for her there?

  "You'll never guess," she might just say, "what I found out about my husband last night. You'll never believe what he's into."

  Will would get that overly confused, overly concerned look on his face. Or he might just bark, "Yes chef," like he always did. Who knew?

  "He wants to see me fuck another man! Ha! Can you believe it!" Then her face would harden and she'd put that giant purse down and grab Will by the shirt and say, "Come on. Let's fuck."

  And he would. I just knew he would. I just knew that at that moment Will was looking at her the same way that big farm-hand Jimmy had. I just knew that when I wasn't there Will's eyes were crawling all over her, undressing her and greedily imagining what it was to fuck a woman like his chef?

  Yes that was preposterous. That something like that would actually happen in real life, that day, was absurd. But in the moment I could not stop thinking about it.

  I stood there, water from the vase pooling around my feet, thinking how I would get to the restaurant and what excuse I would make for going there.

  I backed up slowly, checking to see if there was glass anywhere around me. There wasn't. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. My hair was standing on one side of my head and dark, prickly stubble had grown on my chin. I was kind of a mess. I wanted to move. Go fix myself up, clean up the mess. I could only think of one thing.

  Vivid pictures of Angie's legs splayed open coursed through my mind, heating the blood in my veins and making my head spin. There was Will, standing above her with a smirk, finally about to show his chef who the real boss was.

  Now he was pulling out his cock. It was thick and just as veiny as his hands.

  I could see Angie, staring at it, too. She was mesmerized, spreading her legs wider, begging for it to be inside her.

  My lusty rage boiled over and I sprang to life.

  I pulled open drawers, frantically searching for my wallet. When I couldn't find it, I raced upstairs and grabbed a wad of cash from the envelope in the dresser.

  I thundered back down the stairs, my hands gliding along the wall. I didn't know where my phone was, either. I started planning. Run out to Ninth Street, catch a cab. Tell him to take the tunnel because the bridge was always solid this time of day...

  In between every motion, every step down the stairs, visions of their bodies entwined filled my mind not leaving room to think.

  I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror. Seeing myself dulled the angry tableau.

  I shook my head. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I thinking? Angeline was going to work. She wasn't going to fuck her sous-chef. She was going to work. I leaned back against the wall. In the rush to get her out the door I hadn't even had a coffee.

  Maybe I would start with that.

  Chapter 7

  She scared the shit out of me when she got home. It was late. I hadn't noticed how late because I'd been working, trying to catch up for the time I'd lost sleeping in that morning. I had my head phones on and she tapped me on the shoulder. I screamed. Hopefully not too much like a girl.

  "Holy shit!" she yelled, jumping backwards and almost falling over.

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I took the scene in. She was...overdressed somehow. And holding flowers. With one hand on my chest, I reached out to her with the other.

  "I'm sorry. It's these new noise-cancelling headphones," I explained.

  "It's okay," she laughed and waved it away. Her "s" sounded very sibilant. I stepped towards her, leaned in for a kiss. Was that whisky on her breath?

  "What's up with the flowers?" I asked.

  "They're for you," she explained.

  "For me?"

  "For you." She smiled and kissed my cheek. This was strange.

  "For what?"

  "For being a bitch."

  "Um...thanks?"

  "Oh shit," she giggled, putting a hand over her mouth. Yup. Definitely drunk. "I mean for me being a cunt. This morning. For you putting up with me being a cunt. Right? Is that right?"

  Nervous energy sizzled through me. Why was she drunk? I didn't want to start a fight.

  "Right. Or something. You been drinking?"

  "Maybe a teeny bit." She put her thumb and finger together and squinted her eyes, trying to peer at me in between them.

  I couldn't help the frown that crawled across my brow. "That's unusual."

  She sighed, not noticing, or maybe ignoring the irritation in my voice. "Shit was crazy tonight. Will and I needed a stiff one after work. No big deal."

  A surge of jealous electricity ran through me, tickling my toes. Calm down.

  She threw her massive purse on the chair in the office, then set the flower down next to my keyboard on the desk and began peeling off her coat.

  "I didn't know you guys were that buddy-buddy," I mused, hoping I didn't sound too worried.

  If I did, she didn't notice. "Ah, you know. We have a drink every now and again. He's a real good kid."

  So I gathered. From that thing she'd said about his hands.

  She stopped, suddenly. Her coat half-on, half-off. She looked up at me and tilted her head to one side, smiling.

  "Wait. Are you...jealous?" The corner of her lip turned up even more when she said that last word.

  My stomach tightened into a knot. What to say? I guess I was.

  "Nah," I lied, trying to wave the question away. I turned to take the flowers off of my desk.

  "Wait," she said and I felt her hand on my wrist. I didn't want to look at her. It felt like she could read exactly what I was thinking. "You are, aren't you?"

  When I did look at her, she was delighted that she'd guessed right."I'm not," I answered, trying not to sound cranky. "Did you drive?"

  She shook her head. "No. Took a cab."

  "So we've got no car?"

  She shook her head and furrowed her brow, like she was annoyed at me asking. "We'll get it tomorrow. I want to hear more about this." She stepped closer, her arm wrapping around my waist.

  "About what?" I knew I wasn't doing a good job of keeping the concern off my face.

  "About this thing with Will. You're jealous, aren't you?"

  The blood drained from my face and rushed to my cock. She was right and she knew it. I was jealous. She seemed to love it.

  I stood there looking at her, my heart pounding inside my chest. Some primal switch tripped in the darkness of my mind.

  Had she done this on purpose, had drinks with him? Did she know that this is how I would react. Did this have something to do with last night?

  I don't know what made me do what I did next. A thin haze of angry red clouded my vision. Through it, all I could see were his dark hands, gliding along her lily white curves, finding the places that made her moan.

  I was angry but there was much more to it. All that jealous anger just made me want to fuck.

  "So what if I am?" I growled.

  She raised both eyebrows at the change in my demeanour.

  "Charlie, relax," she soothed, "I was just playing. Like last night. Remember?"

  Her eyes softened but her body was one big flirt. I felt played and not in a good way. I needed more control.

  I grabbed her by the arm and spun her towards the desk. She gasped as I bent her down, but she didn't resist. With a hand on her back, I pressed my body against hers.

  As soon as my rising cock pressed against the firm flesh of her ass, she looked back and smiled. That smile j
ust made me more enraged.

  Hooking a few fingers between the fabric of her underwear and her skin, I yanked them down.

  I breathed deeply at the pungent scent of her arousal. I looked down, my cock hardening fully at the sight of her creamy white ass.

  Tearing at my belt, I let my pants fall to the floor, the buckle clattering. I twisted her arm behind her back. She moaned. Not an angry moan, though. Not like she was hurt. She wanted more.

  She was trying to look back at me. Trying to see what I was going to do to her. Trying to see the look in my eyes.

  Taking myself in hand, I pressed the swollen head of my engorged cock to her soaked pussy lips and pushed myself inside.

  "Ungh..." she grunted. Her ass came up. Her feet moved apart as she opened for me wider, letting me thrust myself inside.

  I sank deep into that silky, sweating cunt. I looked down. What would Will's cock look like inside her instead of mine? The thought sent a hot bolt of angry lust through me. I started to fuck.

  She lay there, pressed against the desk, grunting like a good and dirty whore. Once I found my rhythm, she began to moan. I felt her wet pussy tighten around me, the added friction making me plunge myself in even deeper. I felt a violent climax coming. I grabbed her by the hair.

  I pulled her face came up off the desk as I rode. She didn't yell or cry or tell me to stop. She just smiled and took my rough fuck like a willing slut.

  I wondered if that would that be how she'd take him? Would she let her big, black sous-chef fuck her like she was a slut? Had she? Had he fucked her just like this in the dark office behind the kitchen?

  The thought made me lurch into her harder and she grunted as my hips slammed against the firm pillows of her ass, driving her against the table.

  "Oh fuck," I groaned as I felt the seed pooling at the root of my shaft. I looked down to see the two mounds of her ass shaking from my violent love.

  "Oh!" she moaned, trying to look back.

  I don't know what possessed me.

  "Did you let Will fuck you just like this?" I growled through gritted teeth.

  Her eyes went wide. I let go of her hair, letting her look back.