Leigh Uncovered: A Wife Sharing Novel

by Arnica Butler

  But when Jeremy’s hand moved under the straps of the dress and pushed it from her shoulders, she lost her train of thought completely.

  She watched him in the mirror as he stepped closer to her. Before he even pressed his lips to the back of her neck, she had another shiver radiate over the back of her neck and up to her cheeks. He pushed her ponytail to the side and she felt his lips graze the light hairs beneath her hairline.

  “I like this dress,” he said, even as his hands pulled the straps down and her breasts felt cool in the air (it was not the kind of dress you could wear a bra with, which also felt both scandalous and delightful to Leigh).

  The sides of her arms fell victim to more gooseflesh as Jeremy’s hands moved down them. She could feel an ache building between her thighs that almost scandalized her, and her mind raced to try and figure out why. Her guilty feelings intersected with the brewing excitement pooling in her abdomen, and she started to feel lightheaded.

  She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her breasts were big and buoyant, and Jeremy’s hands were moving to cup them. She felt his touch on her nipples as though from a distance as she watched him roll her long nipples between the pads of his fingers.

  Another river of liquid, boiling heat traveled through the center of her and to her pussy, which was wet with excitement and aching.

  She liked watching him touch her, she realized. Was this why men liked to watch their wives with someone else in those… what were they called? Hotwife books?

  It was titillating, watching his hands as though she were watching a porno (which she had never done), as he slid the dress over her hips and it fell to the floor, and his fingers dipped into the front of her panties.

  He pulled her close to him, and wrapped his arm over her chest to put his left hand on her right breast. He played with her hard nipple as he pulled her panties down and revealed the triangle of trim and downy hair. Leigh stared at herself in the mirror, at the lewd beauty of her nakedness and the way Jeremy was playing with her body.

  His fingers worked their way into the lips of her pussy as she watched, and she shuddered against his arm across her chest when his pointer finger found her pulsing clit and pressed against it. She watched as his knuckle bent and his finger pulsed in the mirror, to the rhythm of the strokes of pleasure he was delivering to her aching pussy.

  He pulled his arm back around her after giving her nipple a solid squeeze, and she leaned forward, losing her composure and her balance. He pushed her gently forward over the counter, and she felt his hand tugging the panties over her ass.

  He pulled his fingers from the front of her body, and her pussy quivered with lost desire for a moment, until he came back around and got his fingers between her legs. One fingers stroked her clit again, and then she felt two of his fingers slide inside of her.

  Then three.

  She looked into the mirror, at her swinging tits and her wild eyes, her mouth hanging open and her body craving even more inside of her. The scene was dirty and she loved it, and she felt her pussy squeeze involuntarily around her husband’s fingers.

  She watched his hands moving behind her, all the motions of unfastening a belt and unzipping his pants. As one of his hands engaged in this subtly lewd action, his other hand fucked her.

  Watching herself, and the motions of her husband behind her, was a strangely erotic experience for Leigh. Her body raced to a climax – and this didn’t happen very often. Usually it took quite some time, and a lot of concentration, but today all the events, all the dirty, bad things that were floating around in her mind and Jeremy’s, conspired to make her come quickly.

  She gasped and let out a little yelp, and the wave of ecstasy rolled through her. She leaned forward on the counter, panting. With her head close to the mirror she could see that little droplets of sweat had formed on her temples, across her chest.

  But Jeremy wasn’t done with her yet. Instead of letting up after her orgasm, he placed his now-free hand on her back and held her in place as he continued to fuck her with three fingers, twisting and stretching her.

  For Jeremy, the scene was equally appealing in its lewdness. Leigh, in a dress that was on the verge of being slutty, bunched up with her panties around the knees, bent over on the counter like a whore. In the back of his mind he still had the images of her cover photos, the implicit filthiness of them, the indecent way his wife was tantalizing men all over the internet with the promises of being a naughty wife who liked her boss’s big cock.

  Leigh's pussy was still pulsing around his hand. He sometimes wondered if she faked – or at least exaggerated – her orgasms, but there was no faking this. Her cunt had exploded in a burst of hot liquid and it was quivering around his fingers. He felt her squirm as he continued to tease her, but he didn’t stop.

  He guided his cock to her dripping pussy, and slowly withdrew his fingers. Leigh jerked when he rubbed the crown of his cock over her clit, and he did it a few times, until she began to respond with renewed excitement. He would love to make her come again, and he would love to think that part of the reason she would was that she herself was enjoying a similar fantasy.

  He entered her, and slowly filled her up. The way she was bent over the counter made her body squeeze him differently, pressure down on the top of his dick. Leigh arched her back and looked at the mirror.

  Jeremy was surprised and turned on as hell by the way Leigh watched herself, her eyes on her beautiful, bouncing tits. He pushed deep into her, until her soaked pussy squeezed cum in a trickle down his balls.

  He pushed her hair from her face and leaned in close to her as he fucked her, slowly and firmly. She lifted her eyes to meet his in the mirror.

  He was never sure if he only thought it, or if he actually said it. Either way, as soon as he did, Leigh’s mouth dropped and she began to buck against him, riding up against his cock to sate her need.

  “So many men have thought about fucking you.”

  They came at the same time, grinding against each other like they were teenagers. Jeremy couldn’t remember the last time he came so hard, and as his seed filled Leigh full, he imagined her exactly as she was. Bent over on the counter, a slutty red dress crumpled around her knees, her makeup smeared and her perfect ponytail askew and coming undone. He imagined her moaning and then squealing, just as she was.

  Except… the cock that filled her full of cum was Craig’s, not his.

  *

  Leigh looked up at the mirror and met Jeremy’s eyes. She didn’t know how long they’d been standing there, panting and bent over the counter.

  She gave a shy laugh and looked down, moving her hips so that Jeremy’s cock slowly slid out from inside of her.

  “Whoa,” Jeremy said.

  Leigh looked back up at him in the mirror and smiled. She caught sight of herself again: her red dress crumpled, her hair a mess, sweat beaded on her forehead.

  There was something appealing about seeing herself this way, and she let that wriggle in her chest for a moment.

  But it also made her uncomfortable. She adjusted her dress and slipped back toward the closet. She would have to dry clean this thing already.

  “That was hot,” Jeremy said, taking her hand and pulling her back toward him before she could escape. He kissed her, and Leigh gave in to the kiss, enjoying the unfamiliarity of it. It was so much more passionate than usual, so much so that it almost felt like…

  Kissing someone else.

  Leigh pushed the thought from her mind, and pulled away.

  “You okay?” Jeremy asked.

  She squeezed his hand. “Of course,” she said, though she knew her voice had some uncertainty in it, and that she couldn’t hide it from him or from herself. “That was just… really… intense.”

  Jeremy made a concerned face, and then he kissed her again. “I thought it was really hot,” he said.

  Leigh felt a flutter in her heart. Then a squeeze of guilt.

  “Me too,” she said. She squeezed his hand again, and g
ave him a peck on the mouth. Then she trotted away to the closet. She felt high, but at the same time, terribly weighed down.

  Oh well.

  She stepped out of the dress and fumbled with it, tucking it into a dry-cleaning bag. It had been a strange day. She could put it all behind her now. What was bothering her, after all? That her picture was on some erotica books? It wasn’t like anyone she knew read those books. And even if they did, they wouldn’t say anything to her. And it wasn’t like she was the star of a porno or something.

  If they imagined her in the story, then that was their business. Their imagination.

  So many men have thought about fucking you.

  Leigh shuddered as a finger of pleasure snaked through her.

  Why did that turn her on so much?

  She pushed the thought out of her mind and went back to the bedroom to wait for Jeremy to finish his shower so she could be next.

  4: BILLIE THE MATCHMAKER

  It was difficult to put the idea out of his mind.

  It wasn’t as though he had never thought about it before.

  From time to time, he found himself giving into the fantasy of Leigh with another man, but he had always assumed it was just the way his mind fantasized. Voyeuristically. Even though in his fantasies for jerking off, the man he imagined his wife with was not him, he could tell himself that it was just a faceless substitute for himself. He did it while he masturbated, and then he didn’t like to think too hard about why he had imagined what he had imagined. It was just a tableaux, a titillating scene that he had envisioned for the purposes of jerking off.

  There was no deeper psychological weight to it to that.

  After seeing the hotwife erotica, though, he couldn’t help thinking about it more. The mere knowledge that there were enough people out there like him, fantasizing about their own wives with other men – enough to warrant someone writing a whole book about it – allowed him to comfortably bring the idea to the surface of his mind.

  Truthfully? He liked it when men looked at Leigh. He liked to turn the memories over and over in his mind. The man passing in the grocery store, who so blatantly did an about-face to view her ass Jeremy had pretended he hadn’t noticed, and so had Leigh. But what if she had noticed? What if she had noticed and decided not to react to it because deep down inside she liked the attention?

  Traveling down this vein of thought while driving home brought its own special delights. Jeremy found that he enjoyed thinking about it so much he spaced out completely and missed the exit to the expressway. He had traveled a full ten minutes beyond, into the boonies, thinking about his wife secretly ignited on the inside by the filthy-minded gaze of another man. He imagined her aching low in her belly as she felt another man’s eyes wandering over her – sliding over the curve of her breasts, devouring the shape of her bottom, gleaming as he mentally stripped her clothes away to discover her pretty snatch.

  And then he took his fantasy a little further. What if Leigh were to react to another man when he wasn’t looking? Maybe she did. Maybe she did it all the time, and he was just a fool who thought that Leigh was a conservative lady-like married woman.

  He imagined her squeezing his hand in the hardware store: “Hey, I’m just going to go look at rugs.” She did that all the time; the pretense was that looking at nails and screws was far too boring for her. But what if she turned when she reached the rugs, and kept walking, all the way to the lumber section, where she leaned over the counter touched her throat while chatting with one of those fit young guys about their wood? He pictured her in one of her little retro skirts that looked like it was from the fifties, her heel rubbing along her calf to push the skirt up and over her thigh, her long eyelashes batting while some lumberjack-type looked at her mouth and imagined what it would look like if it was wrapped around his cock….

  “Shit,” he said, when his mind floated down from the pleasant high he was on and he looked out the window to find that he had no idea where he was. He was disoriented for a bit, and then found a familiar landmark: a giant apple next to an overpriced pie restaurant/tourist trap where they sold overpriced maple syrup and pies to city people. Fuck. He was fifteen minutes out.

  He pulled over at the apple and called work to let them know he’d be late, before turning around on the highway and falling – cautiously – back into daydreams about his wife again.

  When he got to work, he hit the ground running, since it was the beginning of the week. Messages, inevitably, had piled up on his voicemail, and the usual throng of people had called on Monday morning, all with their own “Get It Done This Week To-Do lists that they were clearly tackling.

  But by 2:00 things had settled down, the fires were out, and he could escape for lunch.

  If he wanted to.

  He found himself, instead, perusing the Amazon store. At first, he went in search of covers with his wife on them. The first half hour of searching was enlightening and disappointing: enlightening because he really had no idea how much erotica was for sale on the Amazon storefront, and disappointing because he felt adrift in an ocean of books, and none of them had Leigh's face on the cover. How could they? He was starting to see that there were millions of books. She could only possibly be on a handful of the covers.

  This was disappointing in its own way, and reassuring in another.

  But then… it all changed.

  He discovered a function that let him view the top 100 books in each category of erotica and romance.

  And there she was.

  Leigh.

  Leigh everywhere.

  On one page of results, she was on the cover of three books. It seemed a lot of authors had liked the pose of her sitting on the bed, her face a mixture of uncertainty and allure, her big breasts nearly tumbling from the velvet.

  But they had also liked a smiling Leigh. A Leigh looking over her shoulder and tugging on a lock of hair with a sensual, bare back. Leigh in a dress that was made entirely of lace, the material stretched over her curvy hips and then tapered against her slender legs.

  His stomach went cold and his pulse raced.

  He found the original title, the one that had started the whole thing: Julia’s Big Boss.

  And then he started to look for more books like the one Craig had shown him.

  The world of erotica unfolded for him, branch after branch of hotwife and cuckold erotica stretching out before his eyes. He had no idea that there were, evidently, so many men out there who shared his fantasies. Men who had embraced them.

  Were there men who convinced women to actually give into them?

  There were stories that seemed almost romantic: men and women who seemed to improve their relationship by engaging in the fantasy. There were dark stories of men whose wives cheated on them, or cuckolded them. Stories that were humiliating, which he didn’t really care for but found himself reading nonetheless, feeling a peculiar sort of burn right through his chest as he did.

  It was four o’clock by the time he snapped out of it. In a hurry, he wrapped up the projects he could and left by five-thirty, only half an hour late. It was clear to him, though, that he needed to get this obsession out of his mind. He hadn’t been this caught up in something since… well, dating Leigh, back when he still had to wonder if he could lure her to him completely. The excitement of it made his skin tingle.

  He felt alive.

  As he drove home, though, his thoughts gave way to a more depressing truth: this was all fine, and exciting, and good. But it wasn’t something Leigh was ever going to go for.

  Not Leigh.

  His spirits picked up though, after only a few minutes of thought. Jeremy was, in the end, an optimist.

  After all – he wasn’t really going to do anything like that, anyway.

  It was all just fantasy. Enjoyable, exciting fantasy. And he could indulge in it all by himself, without Leigh ever having to know about it.

  *

  Craig waited with a little bit of delicious impatience for the neighbors to
invite him and Billie back for a barbecue.

  Billie knew what he was up to (she always did), and she flipped lazily through magazines and suggested that he just invite them over himself.

  That was so Billie. He loved it about her, on the one hand: her edgy, Eastern European directness. Especially the way it came out of her cute little mouth with a wry smile at the edges.

  But sometimes the woman screwed with his plans.

  Leigh Hobbs was a real fascination for him, and it was one of the few times in his life he felt like he really had to work to figure one out (Billie, of course, would be another, and he still hadn’t nailed down everything there was to know about her).

  On the surface, Leigh was a pretty standard puzzle: she was tightly wrapped, conservative, liked socks rolled a certain way in a drawer. She would be a pretty tough nut to crack, in the sense that while he knew how to get a woman like that to think about fucking him (that was never especially hard for Craig), getting her to actually act on it was probably not worth the effort.

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy looking at her, but with those woefully long dresses and weirdo ponytails, it would soon lose its charm.

  But then… this modeling thing put a whole new spin on a woman like Leigh.

  And the tantalizing fact that she clearly hadn’t told her husband about all of it.

  Now, those things made Leigh interesting as hell.

  It also made him almost 100% sure that there was a bad side to Leigh Hobbs. Under that fresh-faced, fifties-housewife exterior, a very naughty little girl was being held captive.

  The long and short of it was: he thought it was best to wait with a girl like Leigh.

  See if she came to him.

  Unfortunately, Billie had her own plans, as Billie usually did.

  “I invited over neighbors,” she announced, making one of her rare and lovely grammatical slips. She had winked at him, and that was hot, too. He could tell Billie had her own agenda, though he couldn’t exactly be sure what that was.

  Maybe she liked Jeremy.