A Conventional Hotwife

by Arnica Butler

  The guy turned back toward where my wife was sitting. She was still looking at the water. “I fucking hope so. She's a little slippery.”

  “But look at her fucking rack, man.”

  The guy raised the snifter he had been given in lieu of a martini glass, in mock cheers. “I'll work on it.”

  The bartender threw his rag over his shoulder. “Like I said. I'm here, if there's anything you can't handle, you fuckin' pussy.”

  Every word in this exchange sent a throbbing pulse of heat through me. My cock was so hard I thought I would have to keel over.

  I turned so I was facing the bar, and Alyssa kept right on jabbering into thin air.

  I let a few minutes go by, every second cutting through me with a slow burn. I forced myself to wait before turning back around and watching my wife flirt with the cowboy. I didn't want to get caught staring at them, especially now that I knew the bartender was his buddy. The suspense wound up tighter and tighter in my core, until I couldn't take it anymore. I whirled around.

  For a second, I thought they were gone. My heart leaped into my throat and I jumped forward, ready to break into a run. This elicited a snarky look from Alyssa. But I found them as my eyes scanned the scene frantically. Right where they had been before, just standing. Kathy was twirling her shoes in her hand, dangling them flirtatiously. They were leaning in really close to each other. He was writing something down...I squinted.

  On her hand?

  Kathy gave another laugh. They turned together, arms pressed against each other, fingers mingling. Not quite holding hands, not quite not holding hands. They began a slow walk toward the swimming pool area.

  In a daze, I started walking toward them.

  “Hey man, you still owe me like...twenty five bucks!” the bartender said.

  I spun around, and Alyssa, who had somehow obtained a drink with a straw in it, sucked up the remainder of her drink with a slurp. “You leaving?” she said, and shrugged when I nodded.

  “I don't have...cash,” I said, emptying my pockets. “Can I charge it? To my room? I'm in 115.”

  “Sure,” the bartender said, and I started again in the direction Kathy and her guy had been heading for. They were no longer in sight. I knew they were just around the white plastic tent ahead of me, that I could sprint here and follow them -

  “Guy. Guy! Hey! You gotta sign something buddy. So cop a squat.”

  I looked feverishly back at the bartender. “I'm in a hurry,” I said. I could feel sweat gathering on my brow.

  The bartender snorted and shook his head. “Still gotta pay your bill, man.”

  I tapped my fingers on the bar. I had the shakes, going all the way down to my leg. I watched the bartender as he laboriously filled out the tab. He interrupted himself to make someone a Pina Colada.

  The whole time, my wife was walking along...somewhere...with her cowboy. The guy who was “working on it” with her.

  And what if he succeeded? He seemed like a smooth guy. What if he was taking her in the direction of his room now, or ours, and spewing out all his charming cowboy anecdotes? What if was some rodeo guy and rode bulls for a living? Maybe he had some scar to show her...they could be in front of the hotel room door right now. He would try another kiss, for sure. Push her up against the door. She would feel all of his hard muscles and vibrant, athletic youth, and the solid rock of his hard cock up against her...

  I stared at the bartenders fingers as they moved, with superhuman slowness, to roll the paper through a machine, stamping it. My foot was tapping away below me like a machine gun, but luckily the floor was sand.

  I signed the document, finally, and then I ran.

  *

  “Kathy?”

  I was almost sweating. I had practically run through the entire hotel, my eyes hawk-like, searching for my wife. She was nowhere to be found, so I could only hope that she must be here.

  I hadn't had a feeling like this for such a long time. I could feel my blood pumping, potent jealousy inflaming my mind and my body alike, desire. All of these feelings tasted delicious after so many years of hum-drum, suburban marriage.

  I threw the door to our open and called her name, marching into the room practically furious.

  My heart plummeted when I found the room empty. The door was still swinging shut: I had thrown it so hard that it had bounced off the door jamb, lurched backward and was now caught on its spring, slowly easing closed. The metallic hiss was the only thing pervading the silence of the room. I spun around, my heart pounding in my chest. My mind was still trying to catch up with my body.

  I raked through every second of what had happened downstairs. She had been pushing that guy away, right? Right? I was stepping back toward the door already. What if she had changed her mind, and let him lure her away, out to his party, or his car...?

  But before the door even closed, I saw the red of her dress. Her hand caught the door, and pushed it open. And there she was.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  My stomach twisted with disappointment, as well. I'm not afraid to admit the dichotomy existed. Maybe it still does.

  She looked a little timid as she stepped through the door.

  Maybe she said this to me because it was really true. Maybe because I looked like a maniac, and she mistook my raging lust for anger.

  She was looking at he floor when she finally spoke. A flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let things get out of hand...it just...happened.”

  The back of my neck prickled with fear, and a knife of it ran through my torso, pooling, cold and tantalizing, in my balls.

  Had she gone too far? Had enough time passed for that? What was “it,” the thing that had “just happened?”

  “Let what go too far?” I said hoarsely.

  I moved toward and grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her into the wall and kissing her, crushing her into the door. It was the kind of kiss we hadn't had for a long time. Uncertainty – the most tantalizing of all things – was back in the mix of our interaction: would she respond how I wanted her to? Did she want to kiss me now? Or was she thinking about someone else?

  I released her mouth for a moment and pulled on the straps of her dress, unwrapping her. Her breasts sprung loose from the material, staring at me tantalizingly from inside the crimson, lacy bra she had bought for that specific dress. “It's okay, I breathed. “It was hot. I asked you to do it.”

  I kissed her again.

  She responded, but then she pulled away a little. I could feel a stab of disappointment, but a delicious one, the kind of disappointment I used to feel a long time ago. The kind of disappointment that pools in your stomach, when you try to kiss a new girl for the first time and she hesitates. Or maybe doesn't want to. But I still had a chance here; I still didn't know which way she would go. The uncertainty was exhilarating.

  “I don't know how I feel about this,” she said. Her face looked troubled. But her lips were parted for her to breath just a little more heavily. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were bright and wet, the pupils dilated and almost unstable.

  It was a rush, this feeling I was getting. I slid my hand along her dress, up the length of her thigh. I could feel her body reacting underneath my hand, in spite of her attempts to hide it. I knew that her secret would be there, and when I found it, she would be unable to hide the truth. Her chest was heaving beneath mine. She sucked in her breath as my hand found the hip of her panties and slid beneath the fabric. I crooked my finger and slid it along the hem of the lingerie, slowly.

  Her face was wild now. She was trying desperately to fight it, but she was fired up like a rocket, ready to go off. “It just seems...so wrong...” she said, in a final attempt at her own defense.

  My finger moved down to the crotch of her panties, pulling them away from her slit. The material was wet, and I let a little smile flicker on my mouth.

  Maybe she did feel bad, I remember thinking. And I remember my cock flexing at the thought
of it. Kathy's guilty conscience, her slit gushing into her panties and no way to hide it from her husband's fingers.

  I dipped two fingers inside of her, and she half-closed her eyes in pleasure.

  “It seems to me you feel pretty good about it.” She was so wet. My fingers sank into the hot, slick flesh of her cunt, and I savored the idea that she was this wet because she had been a bad girl. “Is this all from one little kiss? Or is there something else you need to tell me?”

  Kathy's eyes dropped in shame. She shook her head, and she opened her mouth as if she were going to speak, but at that moment I curled my fingers toward her g-spot, and she simply gasped instead. She lifted her leg and put it against my hip, giving me easier access to her cunt. I rammed my fingers deep inside of her, and twisted my fingers toward her most erogenous area, which was expansive and not difficult to find at all. She leaned her head back against the wall, with her eyes still closed, and a low moan came from her throat.

  “Were you bad, Kathy?” I whispered, kissing her bare collar bone. I licked her from there, along her neck, and up to her earlobe. Her skin turned to a matte of gooseflesh, and I felt her pussy tighten on my fingers. I curled them again, stretching her open and stroking the patch of nerves inside of her. She shuddered.

  “I didn't...” she panted, in a whisper. “I didn't do anything else...” her voice faded as I began to stroke her rhythmically. She moved her body against the wall, up and down, trying to derive more pleasure from my finger-fucking. Her muscles tensed all over her body, and I could tell she was close to coming. I slowed my massage. She whined in disappointment.

  “Did you want to? Did you want to do something bad?”

  I stopped moving my fingers. She opened her eyes. I hoped she would understand what I wanted from her. She sucked in her breath.

  “Did you want him to maybe do this?” I said, pulling with my other hand at the fabric of her bra until her nipple popped loose. I rubbed it with my thumb, and I was thrilled to feel her pussy quiver around my fingers and well up with even more moisture. She might tell me any lie with her mouth, that same mouth she had kissed her little friend with, but her slit was telling me the truth.

  I stroked her again inside, and she gasped again.

  “You did, didn't you?”

  I stopped stroking her, and she looked at me, her mouth open.

  “Tell the truth, Kathy,” I growled.

  She was writhing against the wall now. She was so close to her climax, she would tell me anything. Her lips formed a “p” and she gave me the very part of the word, “please.” I shook my head lightly.

  “You wanted to be a very bad girl, didn't you?” I said.

  “Oh,” she said, trying to move up and down and glean the little push she needed to go over the edge. “I did,” she said, exasperated, and I rewarded her with a stroke of my fingers. I lowered my head and took her nipple in my mouth. It was hard, and she dropped her head forward and then threw it back as I made a swirl around the base of it and then bit lightly on the squarish nub. I released her nipple and looked at her. “What did you want your little cowboy friend to do to you?”

  She rolled her head from side to side.

  I stood back from her a little, and I let my fingers slide from inside of her. Only an inch or to.

  “I wanted him...to...fuck me,” she said.

  I smiled and curled my fingers against her silky flesh. I pushed my fingers further in. “You wanted him to fuck you with his big cock, didn't you?”

  She gasped again. She was so close. I stopped stroking her and her head dropped forward. “I wanted him...to fuck me...with his...big...cock.”

  “That's it,” I whispered, fingering her again with a strong rhythm. “That's it. Tell me what else. Did you want to suck his cock?”

  “I wanted to suck his cock,” she agreed, only so I would keep stroking her.

  I felt her shudder, and her pussy clenched around my fingers while bursting into boiling hot juice. It dribbled down my hand.

  I slowly withdrew my fingers. She dropped her leg. I could see that she had come violently, her head was still spinning from it.

  I pushed her onto the bed on all fours. I pulled her skirt up and jerked her soaked panties down to her knees. She had to draw her knees together so I could pull them down.

  I fumbled with my own pants and belt only enough to get my aching cock out of my pants. I was inside of her in no time.

  Her pussy was as hot and wet as I could ever remember feeling it. She moaned as I entered her. I'm a reasonably-sized guy, a little above average, and it felt like the whole scenario that had unfolded that night had inflated my cock's size. She tossed her hair back and let out another squeal.

  I grabbed her by her hips and thrust myself deep, deep inside of her.

  “Did you want him to fuck you like this?” I seethed. I was gripped, suddenly, by the irrational feeling that she really had. That she had wanted that guy to fuck her just like this.

  I rammed myself inside of her, as if I had something to actually punish her for, a reason to be angry.

  Her wet cunt sloshed over my cock and she let out another strangled scream. It took me a second to realize that she was going to come again, in the space of no more than few minutes.

  I reached around and pushed her up and against me by her chest. Then, without getting my cock out of her, I turned us slightly so that I could see our reflection in the mirror hanging over the desk in the room. Her tits bounced, one bursting from her bra and the other still confined by it. I brought my fingers, still coated in her juices, up to her mouth, and placed them in her open and willing hole.

  I watched us in the mirror as she bounced on top of my cock, my fingers inside her mouth, muffling her cries. And it was just good enough to pretend that what I was seeing was wife bouncing on top of some other man's cock. Her eyes closed, her whole body giving in to the pleasures of another man fucking her.

  “Fuck!” I yelled, as that very thought set off my climax like a rocket launch. I leaned back on my hands and rammed my dick up inside her just as she thrust down. My balls squeezed out beneath her weight and my seed exploded inside of her. I felt her pussy throbbing wildly and spasmodically: she was also coming, and coming hard.

  She leaned forward, and I looked down to see my still rock-hard cock buried in her pussy. She panted as she rested her chest on the sheets.

  I stared at the mirror. I closed my eyes, imagining with pleasure and raw pain what it would be like to look at the very same scene, but with another man's cock inside my wife. My dick pulsed.

  I don't know how long we were like that. Maybe just a few minutes. Panting. Kathy seemed spent.

  But the more I thought about seeing her, just like this, spread open and pumped full of cum, but by someone else...my dick twitched and grew solid again.

  I pulled on Kathy's legs and awkwardly waddled so that still had my cock in her cunt when I arrived at the new position I wanted.

  Kathy let me move her like a doll. She moaned a little and brought her fist to her mouth. “Oh God,” she said. “I can't take any more. It's too...”

  But she cut herself off as I rested my weight on top of her body, and began to fuck her slowly. She squirmed a little, and I knew because she had just come twice she was too sensitive to endure more. But I just kept sliding in and out of her, and eventually her discomfort turned to heat, and she began to move with me. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were fixed on the headboard as I pumped myself into her again.

  It took much longer to make myself come this time. Kathy's pussy was so slick and full of my cum there was hardly any friction. I grasped her hair and leaned down close to her. “I love you,” I said. I was pleased that she squeezed me, and pressed against my chest and body more tightly.

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  We fucked more passionately than we had since we had first declared our love for each other. I ripped my shirt away and wrapped my arms around her, pressing our hot, sticky skin together
, until we both came again. Kathy gripped the sheets and yelled into the mattress.

  I panted on top of her for a moment, my face in her beautiful, sweaty hair. The scent of sex was so strong it seemed to fill the whole room. I inhaled it, and then rolled over on my back. I kicked my pants away.

  Kathy rolled around, pushing her tangled dress down and away from her as she did, so she was naked except for her bra. She brought her forearm to her forehead. “Wow,” she said.

  Wow was right. That had really been something.

  We lay there without saying anything for a while.

  She turned to me. “I guess I see now what the...idea is,” she said.

  “The idea,” I repeated. Blood hadn't quite gotten around to circulating in my brain enough to turn the lights back on up there.

  “Yeah,” she said, turning on her side. “You know, like why you think this is a good idea. Now I get it.”

  It. My brain coughed to life and I felt a renewed surge of energy kick through me. My chest felt tight with emotion again.

  “What do you get?” I said, turning toward her slowly. This was what I hoped she might say all along, I realized, and I didn't want to disturb whatever delicate balance there was going on inside of her.

  She looked up at the ceiling. Then she blew her bangs away from her face. She giggled. “I don't know,” she said, laughing lightly. “Oh God, don't make me talk about it.”

  I pulled her hand away from her face. She closed her eyes. “Okay. It's like...oh God, Paul, I don't know. I just 'get it,' okay?”

  I felt my heart jump. It was exactly what I would have said I wanted to hear. It was clear that she did “get it,” and anyway, what's there to say about it other than “I get it?” It was more about feelings, and hard ones to describe, at that.

  Still, it left me feeling disappointed. I wanted her to say more, more about what she “got,” more about what she would do now that she got it. I suppose I wanted to hear her say that she understood how much it turned me on, and that she liked me being turned on. I suppose I wanted those exact words.

  But I didn't want to press my luck.