Robin's Fix: A Hotwife Novel

by Arnica Butler

But Robin solved the dilemma for me, by lifting her legs up and placing her ankles near her head, while she gave me a gentle push on the shoulder to go down on her. Her panties were still wrapped around her legs at mid-thigh, lacy and fragrant, giving the vaguest impression of bondage. With her legs hooked up as they were, her pussy was spread out before me, engorged and glistening.

  With her petals spread open by the position she was in, the scent of her cunt was thick in the air even before I got close to her. I ran my tongue along the edges of her outer lips, the light hair tickling my cheek. She tasted sweet and almost citrusy, and the thick nectar of her pussy had pooled in the folds of her lips for me lap up on my pass back down to tease her clit.

  I moved in quickly, though, to suck up her engorged clit in my mouth. I used my thumb to pull at the hood of her clit and get at the face of it, making Robin gasp. Then I watched her over the gentle hill of her mound, as I rhythmically set in on her, making her abdomen ripple in waves and her hands try to clench at nonexistent sheets as her breath disintegrated into rapid, panicked flutters from her throat.

  I kept at it, rhythmically pulsing against her clit, her honeyed-lemon juices filling my mouth. Her body became slippery on the plastic covering and she slid backward, up toward the headboard, which she clutched and rattled and used to arch her hips as she let out a strangled scream and her pussy squelched in my mouth. Her legs shuddered wildly and I darted my tongue into the channel of her cunt to feel the pulsing of her orgasm.

  Then, only after she was spent by her own pleasure, I rose up onto my knees and pulled her by the legs toward me. I used the tip of my cock to rub her clit a few times and make her moan from the intense over-pleasure, before I sank my swollen member inside of her.

  I was so turned on by then that I had to distract myself with thoughts of golf to keep from coming in only a few short strokes. I fell on top of her, and for a few moments she was listless beneath me, her body hot and her skin wet with sweat. Her legs flopped open and I sawed into the hot liquid of her cunt.

  But after a bit, she closed her legs around me, and started to grind against me again, seeking another climax. Her pussy clenched around my cock as she clung to my shoulders and fought to get another orgasm in before I came.

  “Robin,” I breathed, because it was getting hard for me to keep myself from the edge. But she persisted, her eyes lost in their own world as she bit her lip and pulled on my neck and thrust her hips up against mine.

  I tried desperately to think of something, anything else, to stop the inevitable, but when she turned her face to mine and met my eyes, and the taste and smell of her pussy rose from her lips to mine, I went over the edge and could not come back from it.

  Robin continued to grind her hips against me, as I spilled my seed into her and even after. It was my turn to grab at the bed as though there were sheets, Robins body slipping and sliding on the plastic, her skin so hot I could barely stand the touch of it, her pussy gripping me fiercely to the point of near-pain. As my orgasm receded, the feel of her pussy became almost torturous, and I shuddered as she fought for one final climax.

  Finally, against my aching cock, she came. She let go of my neck and threw herself back against the sheets, her wet hair spread out around her, her pussy throbbing around my cock. A low moan escaped her lips and her eyes went glassy with pleasure.

  I slowly rolled off of her, unable to stand any more of the raw sensations on my cock. The plastic covering stuck to me, and the discomfort of the hot room began to creep in around me as my wild climax rolled away.

  I felt sleepy though. That kind of deeply satisfying, easy sleepiness that comes from a good fuck. Which we hadn’t really had much of lately.

  Not that our sex life was bad. Like our marriage, it was in pretty good, slightly-above-average shape for the length of time we’d been married. But like our conversations in the car, and almost every other interaction we had with each other, sex had taken on a kind of run-of-the-mill, formulaic exchange feel to it. There was nothing particularly wrong with it, it just didn’t have any really excitement.

  It rarely got as sweaty as all this.

  “Ugh,” Robin said, sitting up suddenly, interrupting my pleasant drifting toward a nap. “I’m so sticky.”

  I opened my eyes and traced my fingers down her spine. Her skin was wet as though she had stepped out of a pool a moment before. I brought my finger to my mouth, tasting her salty sweat.

  She stood up and stretched out. “Now,” she said. “You have to pay me back.”

  I raised my eyebrow.

  I sort of like it when Robin puts sex into transactional terms. It gets me off a little, thinking she only has sex with me because I do things for her. But what could she have wanted then?

  “Go prime the water?” she pleaded.

  I stood up, pulled my boxers on, and saluted. “Yes ma’am. Where is it?”

  The water pump was stuck away in some godawful place full of bushes behind the house, and it was no joy to get going, but I was happy to do it after such a lovely and unusual afternoon romp with my wife. I pushed my way impatiently out of the bushes and tramped back through the overgrown property, looking forward to a shower.

  I heard Robin yelp from inside the bathroom, which was downstairs, and I hurried to see what was going on.

  She was in the shower stall, turning around and around and humming. “Oh God,” she said. “Oh God, the water’s not hot yet. Of course. Oh God!”

  “It’s fine,” I said, admiring her hardened nipples and the ripples of goosebumps along her shoulders and arms. “I’m hot as hell.”

  I stepped in to the small stall, flinching when the ice-cold water landed on my balls. “Jesus,” I said, pulling Robin close to me. Her skin was cold to the touch but beneath the first layer, she was still warm. We clung to each other and I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s not so bad,” I chattered.

  “Ugh,” she said. “I have to get out.” She opened the door and looked around. “Shit,” she said. “Shit, shit!”

  I turned the water off after tugging on my cock to wash myself off. The heat I’d been feeling was gone, but it started to creep slowly back into my skin as soon as the icy water stopped biting into my flesh.

  “What?” I said.

  Robin turned to me, clutching herself and shivering slightly. “No towels,” she said. “They’re in the car.”

  I rubbed my face, readying myself to dash out there.

  But before I could do it, Robin surprised me yet again by laughing softly and making a run for the door.

  Naked.

  My eyes went wide, and I stepped onto the wood floor and nearly craned it as my foot slipped. I plodded to the window to watch Robin dash to the car.

  I looked around nervously, wondering if anyone in any of the other cottages had a view of our house. Surely the people across the street could at least see the driveway. And maybe others, as well. And if anyone drove by on the road -

  Almost on cue, the sound of a car echoed in the trees. I looked through them to see flashes of red metal. “A car!” I shouted down to Robin, who stopped, and looked in both directions, but found no place to hide.

  Then, she shrugged, and stopped crouching. She walked calmly toward our car.

  The red car – a pickup, actually – passed. I couldn’t see who was in it, but Robin just stood there with one hand on the car door, and waved.

  I heard a lewd whistle.

  Then Robin bent down to open the trunk, popped it open, and fetched the towels.

  I was too stunned to speak as she came through the door, wrapping one of the towels around her back. I closed the door behind her.

  “Robin!” I said finally.

  She looked at me. “What?”

  Then, as if she honestly hadn’t known, she looked over her shoulder as though she could see through the door and down to the car. “Oh, that,” she said. She shrugged. “We’re never going to see any of these people again, anyway.”

  “Robin!” I repeated
.

  She put her hand on her hip, and the towel slid over her back and then dropped onto the floor. “Oh, come on,” she said. “Lighten up.” She stepped toward me and put a finger on my chest. Her touch sent a delightful ripple through my body. “That never bothered you before. Anyway, everyone had a good time.” She smiled.

  She dropped her eyes to take in what I knew she expected to see: that my cock was twitching back to life. There was no hiding that she was turning me on.

  Still, my mouth hung open a little.

  I supposed Robin was referring to long ago, when we first started dating. Something I had liked about her is that she didn’t mind being naked. I certainly didn’t mind the view. It wasn’t as if she did everything in the nude, but she had done a few things, like open the door to my apartment to fetch a newspaper in the nude, that resembled what she had done here.

  But that was years ago.

  I pondered it for a moment. Then I realized: what did I care?

  And that was just it: there were several feelings competing in my chest. On the one hand, it had been strangely thrilling that total strangers were admiring Robin’s nakedness. And on the other, she was my wife, and possessiveness gnawed at me.

  Robin smiled again and trotted into the kitchen. “Let’s get dressed and go check out the rest of the camp. I kind of want to see it now, it seems so different.”

  She bounced up the stairs for her clothes.

  2: NIGHTLIFE

  Robin had dressed in the same cutoffs, which I was enjoying watching as she strutted down the road, and a tight black shirt that criss-crossed at the back, leaving large swaths of her skin exposed in tantalizing triangular and rectangular patches that weaved in and out of each other like a special and complicated wrapping. Something about the shirt made me feel the itch to unwrap her, even though there was no such string to pull and make the whole thing unravel.

  Robin looked back at me after walking for a few minutes. “Come on, slow poke,” she teased.

  “I like the view,” I told her, my eyes falling to her pretty bottom and the way the cutoff jeans, with a dark hem down the middle, made a delectable contour of the shape of her ass. Robin was thin, with long limbs and a petite set of breasts, and her bottom was small but in comparison to her build unusually curvy. Not big, or even particularly round, but defined; a lengthened convexity between lean torso and her sinewy limbs, a pretty shape that the cutoffs were doing every favor for.

  Robin laughed at me, but she kept walking, and so I kept looking. This trip to the boonies was turning out better than I expected, even if there were a million nasty bugs in the air. I certainly hadn’t expected to have great sex this soon into the game, if at all.

  “So what is this, like a neighborhood bar?” I asked.. I swatted at a cloud of gnats that seemed determined to follow me.

  Robin looked over her shoulder and put her hair up in a ponytail again. Her neck was shiny with sweat. With a rubber-band in her lips, she mumbled: “It’s sort of like... you remember the Legion?”

  I groaned, remembering the only bar anywhere near a place we had rented a few summers back in rural Canada.

  “The beer is cheap,” Robin offered, snapping her ponytail into place. “And... maybe those bikini girls will be there?”

  I doubted that the “bikini girls” would show up for a Legion-esque bar, but cheap beer was always pretty good bait for me.

  We walked down the still road for a bit, but before long the low thump of music, with a lot of voices clattering over it, spilled through the trees. To the left, colored lights suddenly burst out of the trees, and we were standing in front of what actually looked like a respectable restaurant.

  Robin’s mouth fell open.

  “The Legion never looked like this,” I commented.

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe this,” she said.

  I extended my hand toward the steps leading up to the busty porch, where a lot of people seemed to be enjoying a good meal and some beer, and a lot of them looked younger than seventy.

  Robin smiled, and with a look of disbelief on her face, walked up the steps to the door. She stared in amazement at the people on the porch. One group gave her a little wave and said “Hi.”

  We entered the restaurant, and looked around.

  “Wow,” Robin commented. “This place is hopping.”

  Technically, it wasn’t hopping, but there were probably as many people as you’d find on a Wednesday night in a chain-restaurant like TGI Friday’s, which was pretty good considering where we were. The vibe, on the other hand, was much more energetic than that. There were a few families, but a lot of people our age, with no kids. There was an air hockey table with a wild game going on among a group of guys who had balanced pitchers of beer precariously on the ledge behind them. They let out a yell a few moments after we entered as someone apparently won a game.

  We walked awkwardly to the bar. Robin set her purse down and continued sweeping her astonished gaze around the restaurant.

  “What can I do you for?” the bartender, a guy in his late twenties with flinty blue eyes and a stubbled jaw asked us.

  Robin turned to face him. His demeanor changed from gruff to flirty as he took in her pretty face and his eyes dropped, just for a microsecond, to her bare cleavage. Robin said nothing, her mouth open.

  “We have beer, wine, liquor...” the guy joked.

  Robin snapped her mouth shut. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just... the last time I was here was like twenty years ago and this place was... lame.”

  The bartender smiled. “I would not know about that,” he said. “This place is really cool now.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or just an annoying hipster.

  “I’ll have a Cracked Canoe,” I said, starting to dislike the way his greedy eyes were fixed on Robin, and the stubbly grin he was giving her.

  “And for your sister?” he said.

  Very funny, wise-ass, I thought.

  Robin ignored the comment, and gazed at the mirrored liquor wall. “I’ll have... a... gin and tonic, I guess. Tanqueray.”

  The bartender nodded, and he let his gaze and smile linger a moment on Robin, before he turned to make the drinks.

  Robing brought her hands together and leaned on her forearms. She gave me a stunned expression.

  “Well,” I said, and I was a little annoyed, though I couldn’t exactly say why. Men always had a reaction like that to Robin; this was definitely not the first bartender to flirt with her. So why was it bugging me so much? “At least you’ll have somewhere to go in the evening.”

  My tone was a little bitter. Robin placed her head on her palm and swiveled toward me. “Wow,” she said. “That sounds grumpy.”

  I flitted my napkin.

  The bartender returned at that exact moment, almost as if he sensed that he could make me grumpier. “I almost forgot,” he said. “It’s Mardi Gras week.” He was dangling a set of cheap beads in Robin’s direction.

  Robin smiled.

  “It’s not Mardi Gras,” I said, annoyed.

  “It’s a theme,” the bartender said.

  Robin shrugged and took the beads, sliding them over her head in a neat movement. They swung and bounced on the shape of her breasts. They were a bright blue, the color of her eyes, almost as if he had chosen them to bring out the stunning aquamarine orbs beneath her long eyelashes.

  As if Robin needed more attention being called to herself.

  I rolled my eyes when the bartender left, and Robin mouthed, “grumpy” at me.

  I was grumpy, though it was pretty hard to say why. After all, it was great that Robin wasn’t going to have a terrible time here by herself. Great that Robin would be surrounded by a bunch of vibrant people our age. Men in their thirties with washboard stomachs. Great.

  The air hockey table let out another yell, and the group broke up.

  “All right, all right,” a male voice said, nearing us.

  “Loser!” Someone by the
table chanted. “And don’t make it any of that cheap shit, either.”

  I had my back to that group, so I couldn’t see who was approaching. But Robin did, and I watched as she let her eyes linger on the guy behind me ordering beer. Just a moment too long. She quickly looked away when she realized I was watching her.

  I put my elbow on the bar and made a slow, deliberate turn to view the guy she was checking out.

  He was a lean, athletic guy with sun-bleached blond hair and a bit of a surfer look going on. Definitely younger than us, but his age was a little hard to pin down. His skin had a slightly weathered look – probably from some kind of outdoor activity, like surfing. His arms weren’t bulky but muscles contoured his forearms and biceps with the look of hours of climbing or tennis.

  He looked right at me. His eyes were gray-blue and intense. “Hey,” he said.

  And then his gaze shifted past me, and settled on Robin, who must have smiled at him because he gave a little nod.

  “You guys are new here,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he continued looking at Robin, almost like he recognized her. “You staying at the Camp?”

  The bartender had returned with our drinks.

  “My wife’s family left her a cottage,” I said in response to the guy’s question, dryly. Emphasis on wife.

  “Nice one. That’s lucky,” he said.

  I heard Robin’s drink clinking in her glass. “This place doesn’t seem... the same as it used to be,” she said. “You staying here?”

  The guy hooked a finger behind him. “A buddy of mine’s folks left him a cabin, too, so we came out last year to have a guy’s thing. Now we make it a regular thing.” His eyes twinkled. “It turned out to be a lot more... fun... than we thought it would be.”

  “Who’s your friend?” Robin said. “Maybe I know him.”

  “Uh... Jim Santos. That guy over there.”

  Robin leaned over to look at the group of guys, but it seemed like she didn’t recognize anyone. She shook her head.

  The blond guy grinned. “Doesn’t matter. I’m the only one you need to know around here.” He put his hand out to Robin. “I’m Heath.”