I moved to stand next to my wife. The group was serious about the hand they were playing, and no one looked at me. Not even Robin, who was frowning at her cards (with good reason, I saw).
I looked Robin over. She had lost both of her shoes and she was holding a pretty piss-poor hand with not much left to take off.
They went around the table in an elaborate betting scheme I didn’t understand, and then they called the hand.
The dealer leaned over the table to inspect the cards.
“Well... I win.” He looked up at everyone in at the table. “Off with your stuff.”
“Robin,” I said, trying to keep the mild panic out of my voice.
Robin looked up at me. Somehow she had managed to get a drink in front of her. “Oh there you are,” she said.
She did not seem in the least perturbed that all she had left was a shirt and her shorts to take off.
“Well,” the Swedish-looking girl said, standing up. She was not Swedish, if you were judging by her very Southern accent. “I guess the game’s over...”
She hooked her fingers under her silky red panties, and shimmied her hips for the now-mesmerized group. The guys made comments under their breath and whistled as she did a little hip-shaking dance and pulled on the panties a bit, sliding them down a few inches, then teasing us all by moving them back up. She turned around, and slid her hand beneath the hem, tracing the shape of her ample but firm and well-turned ass, giving us a peek at the milkier-colored skin where her (very skimpy) bikini had kept her natural coloring alive.
Then she took both hands to the straps of the panties and flipped the material down, showing us her full, shapely ass. The panties were down to the soft curve where her bottom met her legs, and I heard all the men suck their breath in a little in anticipation of what they would see when she turned around.
She shook her hips a little more, and one of the guys groaned: “Don’t keep us in suspense, baby.”
Smiling, she turned around, and everyone’s eyes went directly to her fully waxed snatch, smooth as her round bottom. Nothing more than a pink slit between two small crests of silky flesh marked her gash.
One of the guys slapped the table. “I knew it!”
Another groaned. “How am I supposed to know if the carpet matches the drapes?” He looked at Sophie, who was smiling and shook her head before he even asked. “Sophie,” he said. “Please. This bet has been going all summer.”
Heath spoke up next. “Well, lads, that’s it for the game, but that doesn’t mean you’re getting away with anything.”
The dealer, who had won, relaxed with his hands on the back of his head and stared unabashedly at Sophie. “I’m cool if just the ladies pay up,” he said.
All eyes went to my wife.
“Robin,” I said quietly.
The situation, I realized, was not that great.
“Whoa, go around the table,” Heath said. “Fair is fair.”
The pudgy guy stood up immediately. “All right,” he said loudly. He pulled off his boxers. His cock, a stubby, half-hard purple turtle, lay nestled in a thick overgrowth of black hair. He shook his cock and Sophie gave an appreciative giggle. “It’s not huge, ladies, but it has a nice bend at the end to hit you in the right spot.”
My mouth fell open. I put my hand on Robin’s shoulder. She didn’t move, just shot me a quick look. I got the impression neither of us was quite sure how to get out of this.
The average-looking guy was next. He lifted a foot to the table and revealed that he was still wearing a sock. Playfully, he did a striptease with the sock, teasing like Sophie had, until he finally jerked off the white sheath and revealed his feet, which were not pretty.
Robin laughed. The pudgy guy shook his penis again. “You got nothing on me.”
Heath stood up, then, and Sophie stopped watching the other two. I could see that her eyes were lighting up and she bit into her lip. I looked at Robin, straining my eyes to see her expression in my peripheral vision. I didn’t want anyone to know that I really wanted to know how my wife was reacting to seeing Heath in his boxers.
He gave it a moment, a moment for the ladies to contemplate his ripped abs and his biceps, before he dropped his hands and jerked on his shorts.
Since he was only down to his shorts, I had been expecting to see him in his boxers. Evidently Robin had too, because she brought her hands immediately to her mouth and gasped.
Heath’s cock sprung loose from his shorts. It was hard not to stare at it. Heath evidently took more time grooming himself than his friends did, and so his cock was nestled in a much trimmed bed of sandy-brown hair. It was a light-colored, circumcised monster, and it seemed to be twitching to life.
“I never wear undies,” he said confidently.
Then he looked at my wife, and winked.
My insides burned like I had swallowed a stiff drink. The martini wobbled in my hand. “Robin,” I said again in a low voice.
Heath looked at Robin and extended his hand. “Your turn,” he said.
Robin smiled. She stood up slowly. I turned to her openly then, staring at her.
“Okay,” she said coolly, and she ran her finger along the collar of her shirt.
Then she clutched the cheap beaded necklace from the bar and swung it up and over her head. She slapped it onto the table with a clatter.
Heath looked up at the ceiling. “Disappointing,” he groaned.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Robin turned to me and smiled. Her eyes dropped to the martini in my hand. “That’s not very sweet,” she said.
She picked up her drink.
I saw behind her that the average-looking guy was moving in on Sophie, who was not after her clothes in any hurry. He extended his hands to put them on her shoulders and they moved closer and closer to each other.
“I’m really drunk,” I said. “I think we’d better go home.”
Robin laughed and took a big swig of her drink. “Ditto.”
*
We walked to the door, Robin thanking people on her way out. Heath asked her to stay, telling her there would be another round of strip poker and she might win. Or lose.
But we ended up outside in no time, and then Robin grasped my hand. “Oh my god,” she said. She tugged on me and we ran, giggling like teenagers, down the steps to the house and out to Lake Drive, looking back occasionally like we couldn’t believe where we had come from.
By the time we reached the road to her parents’ cottage, I was feeling a lot better and we were still laughing. We stopped jogging and caught our breath in front of the house.
“What was that?” I said, jokingly. “A frat party?”
Robin shook her head. “I didn’t know people actually played that game,” she said. She put her hand to her forehead. “Oh. Thank God I let that guy give me that dumb necklace.”
I gulped some air. “I can’t believe you agreed to play,” I said.
Robin made a face. “Neither can I actually.”
“Yeah, what has gotten into you?” I said. I was drunk, feeling some camaraderie with her. Asking the question I’d been wanting to ask all evening – what had inspired the sweaty, slithering sex in the bedroom, the risque naked run into the outdoors – seemed natural now.
Robin laughed and wiped her hand under her nose. The night had gotten cool. “God, I don’t know,” she said.
We looked at each other, and laughed. Robin took my hand in hers and we walked home.
“Still,” I said, when we entered the house some ten minutes later, as though the conversation had never stopped. “It was kind of sexy.”
I was hearing the words coming out of my mouth, but not really sure where they had come from.
“What, the mosquitoes?” Robin joked. She leaned on the ragged couch to take off her shoes.
I said nothing.
“What?” she laughed. “What was sexy?”
She came closer to me. Her fingers were playing along the collar of her shirt, underneath
the fabric. She had a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“You know those guys are probably the ones who drove by in that truck, when you were out there naked” I murmured. But my mind wasn’t really on what I was saying, or even that – I was too busy watching Robin’s fingers making lazy movements along the collar of her shirt.
Robin made a sound, a little bit like she didn’t care or already knew that. She stepped closer to me, and slid her hand down my chest. She drew her fingers playfully over my belt buckle without unbuckling it and leaned her mouth close to my neck. Her breath was hot against my skin when she whispered. “And how did that make you feel?”
But as she said this, her playful fingers dropped down and traced the shape of my thickening cock through my pants. She scraped her fingernails over the material, sending an electrifying tickle through to my balls. My cock jolted to life, and her mouth changed shape as she felt it.
Back up to my belt went her fingers, and she began to tug at the leather strap and pull it out.
“Personally,” she said. “I thought it was kind of hot.”
I was drunk, so I was slightly surprised as I sucked in my breath and said, in a low voice, “That’s so hot.”
Robin grinned and dropped down to her knees, pulling my pants and boxers with her. My cock sprung free and throbbed in the darkness just inches from her smiling mouth.
“Hmm,” she said, gripping my dick in her hand. “Is it?”
She brushed her lips over the crown of my cock as she said this, and my dick jolted again in her hand. She squeezed my shaft and began to stroke me languidly.
“Maybe you wanted me to play another hand?” she suggested. “And lose?”
She grinned when she felt my blood boiling beneath the surface of her hand. She made a lazy circle around the slit in my crown before worming it in to lick up a bead of precum. I sucked in my breath, trying not to lose it completely. I looked up at the ceiling to distract myself from the climax-inducing image of Robin looking up at me while she took my cock into her mouth.
Soon her hot, wet mouth was around my cock, and she was really going at it, swirling her tongue around, sucking at me like she wanted to suck the cum right through me like a straw. But taking my eyes off of her didn’t work quite as I had expected: instead of delaying my orgasm it only allowed me to fill my mind with images. Images of Robin peeling away her clothes like Sophie had, as the group ogled her.
I could feel my climax building. I put my hand on Robin’s head and looked down. She looked up at me, and continued to suck the length of my shaft hungrily.
“Robin,” I said, barely able to breathe. “I’m going to come,”
But even as I said this, my wicked and fickle mind let an image through – of Robin just as she was in front of me now, only with another man’s cock in her mouth. Sucking on Heath’s cock, on her knees for another man.
It was too late, I could feel myself tipping over the edge.
Robin wasn’t big into swallowing, so she pulled back and let my seed splash over her lips and her chin in long, sticky ropes while she stroked my shaft and pumped it all out.
Then she ran her tongue over her lips with a smile, and lapped up a little bit of it.
I was still shaking as she rose up, trailing her fingers along my thigh, making me shudder when she passed over by balls and cock. Up to my chest, playing with my hair.
“Come on,” she said, walking toward the stairs. “You owe me.”
I followed her, and stared as she threw a blanket down on the sheetless bed and then wriggled out of her own clothes. She climbed onto the bed on her knees, and slid her fingers into her pussy.
In a trance, still reeling from my own orgasm, I moved toward her and climbed onto the bed as well. She brought her finger to my mouth and I sucked off the sweet nectar from her cunt.
I grabbed her by the backs of her thighs and pushed her backward on the bed. Robin is a very flexible woman, she does a lot of yoga, and she sort of folded over with her ass resting on her heels and her legs spread open. I moved down her body and positioned myself to lap at her engorged pussy.
The way she was sitting spread her lips open wide, and her clit was throbbing in the center of her wet cunt with excitement. I decided to tease her a little, and so I kissed her on the inside of her thighs from the knee to the grove between her leg and her hip, and flicked my tongue at the freshly waxed outer lip. I did the same on her other leg, and I was treated to a gush of her juices, which I lapped up before prying her lips open and sinking my tongue into her buttery folds.
I swept along the silky inside of her pussy, making a circle around the pulsing center of her clit. She rocked her hips and exhaled, and her hand dropped to my head. I did it again, and felt my cock coming back to life as she squirmed beneath me.
I looked up at her face when I finally brought my tongue against he center of her clit and the fat bulb of nerves. I started slowly, flicking at them, then tickling them, and then finally pushing the blade of my tongue against her clit hard, making the button dart from side to side under my tongue.
Robin’s mouth opened, and she stared down at my eyes, but then she looked up at the ceiling. Her abdomen quivered in waves as she got closer to coming.
When she did come, her pussy welled and dribbled her sweet juices onto my chin.
I stared at her, wondering what she was thinking about. I had another thought, that maybe she was imagining Heath’s mouth on her pussy instead of mine. And my cock was hard again.
I pulled her legs out from under her, and pushed them up toward her head. She was still pulsing with her wild orgasm when I entered her, and she bucked against me hard. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, I can’t, it’s too much!”
But she was grinding against me as hard as I was fucking her sopping wet cunt, until I filled her with my seed.
I collapsed on top of her, my ears ringing and my head spinning wildly. God, I was so drunk, and so high on the racy, flirting-with-the-illicit sex we were having. I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. My eyes were treating to me a drunken light show, green and pink stars and speckles were bursting all around on the blank ceiling.
Robin laughed, bringing me back to reality. “We still don’t have any sheets on this bed,” she said.
I thought about what she said, and about getting out of the bed to go find the sheets. I think I felt her rise up, and I assumed she would be back after getting them, and ask me to move.
But soon I was sleeping, drifting off in an exhausted, drunken sea of pleasantness.
3: SECOND THOUGHTS
When I woke up, I was alone, face-up, on the bed with no sheets, clinging to a crumpled blanket. The windows were open and it had gotten a little chilly.
Robin was asleep on top of a comforter she had evidently retrieved and folded under herself. I guessed that I had passed out and been un-wakable and unmovable. A signature move of mine.
I kissed Robin on the shoulder and contemplated her for a moment. Her hair was spread out on the pillow she had retrieved from somewhere, and a pillowcase was partially on it, like she had tried and been too drunk to complete the task. It made me smile.
I stroked her arm and she squeezed her eyes and groaned.
I knew better than to try to wake her up.
I trudged downstairs to make some coffee.
I had a wicked headache, and my brain was rolling around in my head like molten lava. I moved stupidly from one box to another, with the vague idea in my head that I was looking for “coffee” items, but not really getting anywhere with it.
I also had an aftertaste of the evening before bubbling up inside of me. Now that the evening was in the past and blurred by my state of inebriation, I was starting to have bad feelings about it again.
“Bad.” Maybe bad is the wrong word. Feelings of being “unsettled” might be more appropriate.
I found a strange coffeemaker her parents had kept – one of those percolating campfire coffee makers you either see... well, camping, or
in Europe. After more aimless box-searching, I found our coffee.
I finally figured out the coffee maker and set it to “brewing.”
I heard the soft thump of Robin’s feet on the hardwood upstairs, and then the familiar, almost silly way she walked around in the morning. When she came downstairs, she was wearing a white t-shirt made of a very thin fabric that barely reached her thighs, and her erect nipples made a slightly dark dent in the swell of her breasts where the shirt stretched tight. As she came down the stairs, I noticed that she wasn’t wearing any underwear, and I felt a kick in my boxers.
Her hair was tousled and her eyelids still seemed heavy. She yawned and pushed her hair back from her face as she descended the final two steps. “Hey,” she said casually.
I wondered for a moment if maybe Robin – who drank very little ordinarily – had been far more drunk than I thought she was the night before. Maybe she had completely forgotten the whole evening, and the subsequent romp upstairs.
But she came toward and slid her arms around my waist when I turned toward the sink. She kissed my back, right at the spine, sending shivers down to my buttocks. “That was a crazy night,” she said.
She released me and plopped into a chair by the small kitchen table. The seating for the table itself consisted of benches.
“Yeah,” I said. “That was really something.”
Again, Robin yawned, as though “last night” was just any other night in her life. She turned the back of her hand toward her open mouth. “You didn’t have a good time?” she said casually. Then she picked up a piece of leftover bread from our meal the night before and bit into it. “I thought you were having a very nice time with that lady in the kitchen.”
My heart went cold. Not because anything in particular had happened with Kelly, or that I felt like it would have. Or even so much that Robin knew about it, which was mysterious as hell.
Just... Robin’s reaction was so... blase. And it was so odd that this was the first thing she would bring up, after what happened when we got home. I felt like she was being almost combative.
Robin's Fix: A Hotwife Novel Page 4
