Out of His League: A Hotwife Novel

by Max Sebastian

  “Yeah... I guess...” I said. I’d never really thought about it. It didn’t feed into my usual paranoid agenda of me being way beneath her station.

  “How well did it go today hiring those guys to help you get back on schedule?”

  “Really good,” I said. Again, I hadn’t really thought about it all too much. The guys had done the work, sped things up for me, and hadn’t cost as much as I’d feared. “Yeah, really good.”

  Charlie smiled. “You know... when you sell this place—and I know you’ll make a good sum from this one, buddy—you should buy two places next.”

  “Two places?” The idea was somewhat daunting. I’d always been cautious with my whole strategy, buying run-down and bargain properties before adding value and selling for a decent enough profit. Never over-extending myself, never taking too much of a risk.

  He nodded. “Split your capital between two projects. Do one yourself, just like you would. Hire in some help to do the other project at the same time. See how it goes.”

  “I suppose...”

  “You’re good at picking out bargain houses. Even if the other project ran late, you’d probably have no trouble covering your costs.”

  I nodded. Smiled. It was a great idea. “You’re supposed to be my shrink, aren’t you?” I said. “Not my business advisor.”

  He gave me the standard bear hug as we came outside the bar to find our Uber cars waiting patiently. “I’m your friend, John, that’s the main thing. And as your friend... I think maybe you should talk to Courtney if you have... unusual things... on your mind.”

  I nodded, agreed that he was right, he’d always been right.

  But as I got into my car, I found myself thinking about what he’d meant about talking to Courtney about the “unusual things” on my mind. It was different to what he’d suggested earlier, to simply stop thinking about it all and give Courtney the benefit of the doubt.

  So now he wanted me to open up to my wife about my desire to see her cheat on me?

  Maybe I’d had one beer too many that night.

  Chapter 6

  On my way home I was toying with which way to interpret Charlie’s advice when all was said and done. Let it all drop, and avoid any thought of enjoying the paranoia of adultery, or come completely clean and tell Courtney that I was having a strange new sexual fantasy about her?

  Slumped in that taxi, I felt fairly sure that Charlie had gone and changed his mind on me at the last moment.

  He’d seen with his own eyes that I had a perverse desire to see my wife being unfaithful. We hadn’t been able to talk about that much, to be sure, but his advice to discuss this with my wife had been fairly clear, hadn’t it?

  Nevertheless, the prospect of suddenly opening up to Courtney about all this was a terrifying one. So many ‘what if’s presented themselves, and many of them suggested dire consequences. With such a beautiful wife, I had to tread carefully. Revealing myself to be some kind of weird perverted freak might not go down well with someone who was gorgeous and incredible in bed, but on the whole in my experience relatively conservative when it came to all things sex.

  Her wearing of lingerie to a board meeting might suggest she was less conservative about sex than I’d thought, though, of course.

  Still. I figured if she wanted to give me the boot, she could do so relatively easy any time and probably end up with a far more suitable boyfriend or husband or whatever. Harry Richards sprang to mind. A military career was hardly a lucrative one, but judging by his car and his clothes, his new job in private defense—or whatever it was—was paying quite nicely.

  I couldn’t face Courtney thinking I was a loser, that I was somehow less of a man because I wanted her to enjoy the thrill of adultery.

  Finally, as I entered our apartment building and saw that she was already home—she’d picked up that day’s mail from our mailbox—a new thought came to me. Charlie could still have meant for me to forget the crazy idea that I might enjoy my wife’s adultery—and still want me to talk to Courtney about some of the issues I was having.

  As I stepped into our apartment and saw my gorgeous wife sitting on the bench along the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city—and that she hadn’t changed out of her business clothes, even potentially still wearing those black stockings—I knew what I was going to do.

  “No. Look. He can’t do it at the clinic, he’s said so...”

  Courtney looked up at me coming in the door as she continued with her phone call, and flashed me a blazing smile, waving at me silently as a way of apologizing for being on the phone as I came in.

  “If his employers find out he needs treatment, it’ll totally wreck his chances... No, I never said that...”

  I smiled back at her, and shrugged to indicate there were no hard feelings.

  Somehow, just seeing her perched on that bench, still potentially wearing all that lingerie, made most of my remaining paranoia melt away. Maybe she had worn it for me. Or maybe she’d felt the need for a little more self-confidence among the otherwise male-only board of the health trust.

  Surely she wouldn’t wear sexy undies like that to cheat on me, then come straight back to see me wearing exactly the same outfit?

  “We can book a room at a hotel, for God’s sake...”

  Her conversation on the phone was work, clearly, so I zoned out.

  “Yeah... look, if that’s the only option, then we’ll just have to do that instead...”

  I waited, my strategy clear in my head. I’d act as though I was a completely normal husband, dealing with only the evidence which presented itself to me directly, right in front of my face.

  She flashed me another silent look of apology, but finally managed to wrap up the call. “Okay... I’ll ask... I can’t guarantee it... yeah, bye.”

  Then she rose to her feet, saying to me, “Sorry, sweetie. Can’t get away from work today.”

  “You’re home pretty late,” I said, eyebrows rising as she approached me.

  “I told you I would be, right?” she said, a note of nervousness in her voice all of a sudden.

  “You did,” I smiled, and she relaxed again. “You know they don’t pay you enough to work these kind of hours.” I stepped up to her, took her hands.

  She smiled. “Yeah... but I can’t exactly complain.”

  She leaned forward to kiss me, said, “Hey...” as though she hadn’t properly greeted me. I smelled that new perfume of hers, not quite so strong now, but still there. Nothing else, though. Not the hint of another man’s cologne, not the tell-tale scent of sex.

  “I missed you today,” I said softly.

  She gave me one of those “awww, so sweet...” looks where she tilted her head for a moment and creased her forehead. I pulled her to me, but she stepped back. “I really need to get in the shower...”

  But I didn’t let her go. She turned, and I pulled her back to me, holding her by the shoulders from behind.

  “I’ve been waiting all day for you,” I complained quietly, sweeping my hands all over her dress, from shoulders down to hips. She smiled broadly, enjoying my attention. She groaned as my hands rose up to settle upon the pleasing roundness of her breasts.

  “You can’t wait five minutes more?” she teased, but pressed her body back against mine, jigging her hips as though to try to feel whether I was hard for her yet. I was. She couldn’t have missed it.

  “Not five seconds more,” I said, nuzzling against her cheek, breathing in the wonderful clean smell of her long, dark hair.

  And now one of my hands trailed up her leg, feeling that unusual texture of thin black nylon stretched over her smooth skin, the rough black lace that topped off her stockings, the hot flesh between her stocking tops and her thong.

  She caught her breath as I touched her there, but didn’t prevent my progress.

  “You went to a board meeting all day,” I growled, “and wore underwear like this?”

  My fingers trailed over the sexy black lace of her thong, findi
ng it already soaking with her personal wetness. She couldn’t be this wet this soon just from my touching her, I was sure of it.

  But I was acting the ‘normal’ husband. Channeling mainstream behavior for a guy of my station.

  “Maybe I just put it on for you...” Courtney breathed as my fingers traced little circles in the lace directly over her clit. I felt a burst of surprise—shock, really—that she might tell me a lie like this. But then she smirked, and added, “Why, are you jealous?”

  Her smirk effectively told me I was right, but also seemed to reassure me I couldn’t have anything to worry about.

  “I saw you put it on this morning,” I said.

  “You were watching me getting dressed?” She smiled, loving this, loving my furtiveness somehow, and the way I’d paid attention to her when she’d sought to keep this particular outfit secret from me.

  “Uh-huh,” I said, and slowly tugged down the zip on the back of her dress, slipped the straps off her shoulders, and allowed it to drop toward the floor, revealing the luxurious lace of her bra, the extravagant eroticism of her garter belt, her scandalously skimpy black lacy thong and those stockings, which made her look as though she’d stepped off the pages of a gentleman’s magazine.

  I said, “I know your board is mostly men...”

  She giggled, and gave a little melodramatic gasp, making me think of Marilyn Monroe. “You are jealous!” she said, as though it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever learned.

  Her hand found its way back to check out the tent pole in my pants. “Jealous and turned on...” she teased. “How confusing!”

  I ran my hands all over her, up and down, as though I couldn’t quite believe her lingerie was real. It was so damn extravagant, and I’d never seen anything so sexy. I pulled her face toward me for a passionate kiss, and felt her hand pressing against my hardness, loving how I was responding to her mysterious and sudden use of fancy underwear.

  She said, “Is it bad that I’m totally turned on when you get all jealous?”

  “I’ve never been jealous,” I insisted.

  “Oh, but you are now...” She whirled around to face me, grabbing my head, kissing me as though she was some kind of vampire with a lust for blood, sucking ferociously at my lips, thrusting her tongue against mine.

  When she finally broke away from me, breathless, she gazed into my eyes and declared, “I love it!”

  She hadn’t actually denied that anything untoward had happened that day, she hadn’t given me any explanation whatsoever. She’d avoided the question, distracted me by this sudden desire for my jealousy.

  Had she really done something worth being jealous about?

  “Who did you wear this for?” I demanded to know, my hands crawling all over her bountiful rear, tugging on her garter belt. “Someone from the board meeting?”

  She grinned, and only kissed me more forcefully. I got the impression that she thought I was role-playing, that since she’d confessed to this new turn-on, I was now indulging her.

  It meant, probably, that she did have some kind of rational, non-adulterous explanation for wearing this lingerie. That was somehow both disappointing for me, and uplifting. I was gutted that she might be innocent of all charges—and yet buoyed by the sense that she might really still love only me, she really might be true to me despite my suspicions.

  I liked the idea of her infidelity, after all: it was her lying that I couldn’t stand. The word ‘cheating’ was thrilling to me, but in reality the deceit involved, the duplicity it required as a concept did take the edge off my desire for it. I wanted my wife to be naughty, to be wicked. But I didn’t want her to lie to me, didn’t want her to keep secrets from me, didn’t want her to give something of herself to someone else if it wasn’t entirely in my control to give.

  “I wish I could tell you I didn’t wear it for someone from the board meeting...” she said, teasing me, though somehow still sounding as though she was telling the truth.

  For a moment, I suddenly couldn’t tell if she was role-playing or not.

  What if she was cheating on me?

  What if she was about to confess?

  It only made her seem all the more gorgeous in my eyes. I asked her, “Did you go with him somewhere, after the board meeting?”

  We couldn’t stop sucking on each other’s faces. Courtney hopped up and wrapped her stocking-clad legs around my body, pulling herself so tightly against me my hard-on was crushed between our two bodies.

  “You really think I’d cheat on you?” she said, dropping back down to the floor again.

  “I don’t know...” I hesitated, wavered. Thinking about Harry Richards, now; his late-night visit to her practice, his arm around her waist that night out with Charlie. His easy sense of possession of her.

  “And if I did... you really think I’d tell you?” she taunted me.

  Oh God. She was so hot. Even if Charlie had been telling me to drop all this nonsense about wanting Courtney to cheat on me, I couldn’t. I really couldn’t. I wanted her to be sullied, to be liberated, to be oh so god-damn promiscuous.

  I pulled down her bra, a little roughly, in fact. Not how I usually was with her.

  “You’re my wife,” I growled, playing into this as though we were still role-playing, ducking down to take one of her gorgeous breasts in my mouth, and then the other, sucking furiously on those stiff nipples of hers.

  Role-playing, and yet she was apparently revealing a fantasy for me to be jealous, and I was certainly harboring a fantasy of having reason to be jealous.

  She gasped as I sucked on her tits, and reached to grasp my hardness through my pants.

  As I rose again to kiss her mouth, she was smiling so brightly at me, loving this strange new dynamic between us. She declared, “I’m your wife, but that doesn’t mean you own me.”

  I grabbed one of her buttocks in one hand, made her squeal as I manhandled her, as I forced her to bend over the hard granite counter of the island dividing our open-plan kitchen from the living room/dining room area.

  “You promised to be faithful to me,” I snarled, but I was stroking her stunning curves, pawing at her glorious behind, so very exposed by her tiny thong.

  She moaned and giggled and lifted one leg up onto the counter to aid my exploration of her wicked body.

  She said, “I promised... but sometimes a girl faces such temptation, sweetie...”

  I lifted her up onto the island, so she was kneeling on it, butt raised, head shoved down against the cool polished stone. She was so incredibly turned on—by her day in naughty lingerie at a business meeting, by this little role-play game of ours.

  Because I was fairly sure, now, that this was role-play. She hadn’t cheated on me, somehow. Maybe she’d even dressed in lingerie all day just to get me jealous like this for when she returned. She’d purposefully let me watch her getting dressed this morning just so I’d know she was going to her board meeting dressed like a Playboy Playmate.

  Even if it was role-play, it was so hot to find out how much this jealousy game turned her on. And maybe, letting her know that her attempts at making me jealous turned me on.

  She was so wet, so very very wet. Her smell was all around me as she knelt there before me on the counter, and I grabbed her hips and kissed her hot flesh, peeled her soaking thong down off her behind, leaving it strung around her thighs as I laid my eyes on her sensational, glistening sex.

  “Oh... please... honey...” she moaned as my kisses grew nearer and nearer to her sweet pussy, as my hands sprawled all over her buttocks and squeezed as though I really did own her, or at least as though I was reclaiming her as my own.

  “Tell me who he is,” I barked.

  “I’m sorry... I’m sorry I’ve been a bad girl...”

  I touched my nose just next to her smoldering sex, inhaling that powerful aroma of dark spice, which must have been building all day.

  “Who... is... he?” I demanded.

  “I’m sorry...” she whined, "...I can’
t tell you...”

  I believed her about the board meeting, but I still wasn’t sure about Harry Richards. Maybe this was all an act today, but there were still questions about that man, the pilot, whatever he was to her.

  Maybe this whole role-play thing right now was designed to soften me up, so she might one day actually reveal she’d had a fling with another man, a patient. Harry Richards.

  Yet that thought only made me hope it was true, only made this whole role-play thing hotter for me. Only made me desire Courtney all the more.

  I growled, “You’re mine. You wear sexy clothes for me, only me. Understand?”

  I jammed my face against her searing pussy, tasted the hot tangy zest of her arousal, lapped at her with a ravenous mouth.

  She clung to the far edge of the island and cried out in sheer pleasure, “Oh... yes... honey... only for you... only for you...”

  I feasted on her, loving her flavor, loving how I made her writhe under me, loving how she cried and whimpered from the sensations flowing through her exquisite form. What if she was sleeping with Harry Richards already? Did it put me off? Not at all. Imagining it only made me hungrier for her.

  What if this was some kind of double-bluff? And she’d had another man’s cock in here, stretching her sweet pussy, earlier today?

  The thought did not put me off. It only made me see her as more desirable, more out of my league, more and more like some kind of goddess I was fortunate to be in a position to worship.

  She came right there on our kitchen island. I don’t think we’d made love outside our bedroom in this apartment, let alone in the damn kitchen. It felt a little different, a little naughty. And wow did she come quickly, shaking like a leaf in a storm under me, whimpering like a lost sheep.

  She turned around to sit on the edge of the counter and face me, to kiss my mouth again, but also to gaze earnestly into my eyes.

  “You know... I was playing, right?” she said, and I guess our little role-play really had been blurring some lines between fiction and fact. “I didn’t really cheat on you, honey... I really wouldn’t...”