Here, my cock twitched violently inside of her, and I lost control of myself. I grabbed her hips and slammed deep inside of her.
“-and after she gave those guys a... after she... oh... oh...”
“What?” I said, gritting my teeth.
“After that she gave him... she gave her husband...oh... oh God, I’m going to come.... oh fuck!”
I didn’t have to hear what she was going to say to know that whoever she had been watching had given her husband a blowjob. And my own dirty mind quickly superimposed my own wife in the story – my own wife sucking on cock and getting fucked, being spit-roasted, and then crawling on her hands and knees to suck the come out of my cock...
So as soon as Robin was shuddering violently in my hands and her pussy was clenching against my cock, I was fucking a load of cum into her.
“Wow,” I said, after a time had gone by. I had no idea how long we were there on the table, panting, clinging to each other.
Robin leaned back and scooted away from me, and my cock flopped out of her. She pushed back against me and stood up, moving her hands over my back. “That was very... um...”
“Athletic?” I offered.
She laughed, and looked back at the table as she wriggled away and headed toward the bathroom. “I was going to say, ‘unhygienic,’” she said.
“Not as sexy,” I pointed out. Robin entered the bathroom and turned on the shower.
“So... that’s a, um, very sexy haircut you got there.”
Robin poked her head out from behind the shower curtain. “Huh?”
I motioned to my crotch and whistled.
“Oh, that,” she said, winking, and then she disappeared behind the curtain again without saying anything.
Okay...
“When did you do that?” I said, casually walking into the bathroom.
“Don’t you like it?” Robin said, instead of answering the question. “You seemed to like it.”
I looked at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t doing too bad for my age. I am nine and a half years older than Robin, something that never used to make much of a difference, but which was starting to bother me now. I rubbed the stubble of my beard, speckled with just a trace of gray.
It wasn’t the first time I had wondered if Robin wasn’t perhaps becoming unsatisfied with me. With the staleness of marriage, with the fact that I wasn’t young and athletic anymore, not the way some guy like Heath was.
And then things like this: waxing her pussy.
“Why’d you do it?” I said, plucking my toothbrush out of the container absentmindedly.
Robin slid the curtain open again and eyed me suspiciously.
“I joined a cabaret,” she said, her voice deadly serious.
She took a towel off a hangar and flipped her head over to wrap her hair up. “This place is crazy,” she said. “They used to not even sell firewood here, you had to go to this other Camp.... and now they have a spa in one of the old cottages.”
She flipped her head up, the towel magically wound around her hair in one of those lady-turbans that all women seem to instinctively know how to do. “But then Sophie showed up while I was checking it out, and she was like, get a wax, they’re on sale -”
“Sophie,” I murmured. “Little Miss Strip Poker?”
Robin smiled. “Well, she would know about good deals on waxing, right? So I thought, whatever, I’ve never done it. So I did it.”
I looked down at her bare pussy.
“Did it hurt?” I said.
Robin made a face. “Oh God, it was the worst,” she said. She took a step toward me, and playfully tapped her fingers on my cock, which was twitching to life again. “But I put some ice on it afterward, and it was fine.”
I shuddered.
Robin traipsed out to the kitchen. “Take a shower,” she said. “It’s cold as hell but it feels great.”
“So,” Robin drawled, pulling a pair of cutoffs over her bikini while I admired the view. “What should we do with the rest of the evening?” She leaned in and kissed me on the shoulder, and her hair skated over my arm, sending a thrill through me that threatened to have me riled up again. I fumbled with my boxers.
I looked up at her. Robin was biting her lower lip fetchingly, her eyes a little lit up.
Obviously, she had something on her mind. And I thought I knew what it was.
I took her hand in mine and brought it to my lips. “Hmm...” I said. “What do you want to do?”
Robin gave one of her funny shrug-but-not shrugs. “Well... I don’t know. Maybe we could just go... check things out. Over there. You know, just to see what’s going on.”
I stood up and moved close to her to get my shorts out of a bag on the table. “Just to see what’s going on,” I said.
“Nothing more,” Robin said. “But come on, you aren’t just the tiniest bit curious?” She played with my feet with her pretty toes. “Or maybe you see that kind of thing all the time, and so you’re like, meht, no big deal.”
She smiled as she looked up at me.
Inside, I felt like I was getting torn apart again.
Sure, I wanted to go see these swinging, orgy-loving people. In fact, under different circumstances, I could easily see myself being the one who was talking Robin into going.
So it wasn’t that I didn’t want to satisfy my voyeuristic curiosity. Or even my carnal one, to be sure.
It was Robin who was bothering me. Robin’s enthusiasm for this adventure. Robin’s willingness to go see what was going on, her mild fascination with it, her changed behavior. The dark sensation that she was roping me into something, that maybe she’d already seen all of this for herself and she had a more nefarious purpose to going over there right now.
Robin was looking at me sweetly.
On the other hand, what if all this was was... what it was? What if my wife just had a genuine curiosity in seeing something new and exciting? Something that obviously turned me on. Something that I couldn’t deny to myself, I sort of wanted to see her not just watch, but participate in.
When I had that last thought, about Robin participating, it clanged inside of me, a cold, metallic thud. Thinking about it both hurt me and aroused me.
Robin’s fingers were back on my chest, traveling down, down to my cock, where my true desires were obvious. She grinned.
“So...?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. Let’s go. Just...” my voice trailed off.
“What is it?” She searched my eyes. “I mean, you’re not worried we’re going to actually, like... get in on it, are you?”
“Well,” I said. “Maybe.”
Robin threw her head back and let out a laugh. “Whoa,” she said. “No. You definitely don’t have to worry about that.”
My mood shifted suddenly. “Why not?”
“Are you serious?” she said.
“Just curious. You wouldn’t ever... get in on it? Not even a little?”
Robin’s mouth fell open. “Oh, come on,” she said. “No way.”
“Would you play strip poker again?” I said.
She paused. “That’s hardly ‘getting in on it.’”
“But you would do it?”
I could feel excitement building up inside of me, my blood racing, my heart slamming into my chest. I wanted her to say yes as much as I’d love it if she would say no.
And then she practically made me explode:
“Well,” she breathed, pushing her hair to one side. “Would you want me to?”
I said nothing, and Robin gripped my hard cock. “Mmhmm,” she said. “So... what else would you want me to do?” She let go of my cock. “This is a serious conversation,” she said, changing her tone suddenly. “We need rules.”
I knew that what I should have been feeling was total excitement and gratitude for having a wife who was excited about a sexual adventure and so pragmatic about it.
But I was too stunned to say anything.
“How about,” Robin said, “We go, and we see
what’s up, and we agree that the only things we can do are things that involve.... no touching? So, strip poker is okay, or... I dunno. Flirting. But...”
She cut herself off and brought her hand to her mouth, tapping her lips. Thinking.
“This sounds good,” I said, my voice practically croaking.
“The only thing is, can you really flirt without touching someone?” she pondered.
She was looking up at the ceiling as though she was asking a very serious rhetorical, philosophical question.
Then she dropped her eyes to meet mine. “That could just be part of the challenge, couldn’t it?”
She gripped my cock again.
“I think you like the idea,” she said.
I did like the idea. I liked the idea very much, and it was traveling through my groin and my lower abdomen like molten lava. But the cerebral part of my mind was wondering who the hell this woman was.
“Come on,” Robin said, biting my lower lip. She began to stroke my cock. “It’ll be fun. And then, afterward...” she slid down my chest and let my cock brush against her lower lip as she spoke. “Afterward, we’ll come back home, and see if the evening did anything... you know... exciting to us.”
She licked the ridge of flesh between my crown and my shaft. Her hand began to pump my cock, as she slid the crown over the blade of her tongue. I looked down at her, helpless to stop her or guide her or do anything but wonder what the hell was going on.
Vaguely of course.
Because most of my mind was occupied by the orgasm that was boiling inside of me.
Robin jerked me off until I came, and she directed my cock to her open mouth, taking my seed in the back of her throat and on her lips.
She wiped her mouth after I finished coming, and stood up. “What do you say?”
What could I say?
6: TRY ME
“Look who’s here,” Heath called out, lifting a beer in our direction as we climbed up the porch. Mr. and Mrs. Smith. “Can I make you two fine people a drink?”
Robin slid her hand into mine and squeezed it. “I’d love a gin and tonic,” she said.
“Beer,” I said.
Heath looked at me. “Any particular... kind...?”
“Beer-beer.”
“One beer-beer coming up.” He gave Robin a slow up-and-down before heading to the door. He was stopped by a friend, and changed direction after a quick, low-voiced chat. He followed his friend around the wrap-around porch.
“I don’t know if we’re getting that drink any time soon,” I observed.
Robin put her head on my shoulder. “Oh well. Let’s go take a look around, shall we?”
“Show me the pool,” I said.
We cut through the house – a considerably nicer, refinished version of a typical cottage. Another game of strip poker was indeed going on at the same table, and the stunning Sophie (who was either truly lousy at cards or a shark) seemed to be losing more than her shirt again. Through the kitchen, to an expansive back porch that overlooked a steep grade and then a small swimming pool at the end of the lawn. Beyond the pool, a weedy end to the property disappeared down another slope.
“And lo and behold,” Robin said.
A woman was slowly spinning in circles in the center of the pool, reclined on a floating chair. Totally naked. A couple of guys, with an attractive woman between them, were sitting on the edge of the pool, kicking their feet. They were lazily watching the floating pool girl and drinking. I took instant note of the fact that they seemed very close as a threesome; one of the guys’ hands was on the woman’s knee, and she was leaning against the other in a very familiar way.
I had flashbacks of college, drunken parties where almost anything went on any given evening. Nights when you would spend thirty minutes talking to one girl only to make out in a closet with a completely different one. But this – this was different, because everyone was well past college-aged. And everyone seemed to be doing something that had an illicit feel to it because of that.
After all, there was no way none of these people were married. And hadn’t Robin even said that one of the group she’d observed was?
Robin seemed to read my mind, and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “That’s her,” she said, nodding toward the pool.
“Who?” I asked.
“The one at the edge of the pool. That’s the one I saw. And those are the two guys.”
The scene, which had only seemed mildly illicit up until then, suddenly had me wildly turned on. I wondered if Robin would be into doing something so casually: blowing two guys and then sitting around poolside with them as though they were just good friends from college.
I shifted uncomfortably, an erection threatening to show itself in public. “Uh...” I said. “You know, Heath is never going to get those drinks for us. I’ll... go do that.”
Robin smiled, leaning casually on the balcony. “And what should I do, while I wait for you?”
The possibilities.
But Robin didn’t wait for me to answer.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll think of something.”
And then she gave me a complicit smile, but it unnerved me as much as it made my erection worse.
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I should have done something at that moment. A feeling that Robin standing there on the deck was a last chance of some kind.
But I didn’t do anything, and Robin winked, turned, and hopped down the steps toward the pool while I walked in a daze toward the back door to the kitchen.
I trust my wife, I told myself, as I half-stumbled into the busy kitchen, where quite a few people were gathered, making and getting drinks.
And I did trust my wife, right?
Or did I not?
Robin had never given me any real reason not to trust her, so really this was a stupid question for myself. But the energy at the party suddenly seemed threatening to me: too young, too wild, too much like something that would get Robin to behave in a way that she shouldn’t, or had promised not to.
And had she really promised anything? I made drinks like a zombie at the same counter where I had been chatting with Kathy, and went through our conversation with a fine-toothed comb.
Had she promised not to do anything?
No hands, no touching, I remembered.
But had that been a promise?
And where had my fucking balls been in that conversation? Why hadn’t I said something, insisted on a promise?
I hadn’t even explicitly agreed to anything... I had just let Robin lead me around by my cock. Or let my cock get led around by Robin.
Either way.
I made myself a martini in a regular drinking glass because I couldn’t find anything else in the cupboard, which seemed to have been raided by a good deal of party-going at the house since I was last there. There was no tonic and no gin in sight.
I looked around for something sweet that I could concoct for Robin.
“Whoa,” a familiar voice said, near me. “Looks like you beat me to it.”
Heath.
“If you want something sweet, for Robin, there’s daiquiri mix in the freezer. You just add the booze.”
I felt my neck burn as that punk mentioned the sweet drinks that Robin liked. Why the hell did this guy know what Robin liked to drink?
“How do you know Robin likes daiquiris?” I asked, and my voice was brittle.
Heath shrugged. “Man, whatever. All chicks like daiquiris.” He made a sound, a disdainful laugh. “What, you don’t think I’m making your wife a bunch of drinks? Trying to get her drunk? Maybe getting up to something I shouldn’t be?”
I couldn’t tell if this guy was challenging me or not. His eyes were sort of laughing, his mouth turned up in a smile. But I had no idea what he was trying to get at by saying what he had just said.
He reached for a glass, and I tried to play it cool. “Freezer, huh?” I said. I turned and opened it, and sure enough, there was a big container of
daiquiri mix.
“Here,” Heath said, handing me a glass that seemed almost half-filled with rum. “Just pour it in there.”
Was this guy trying to get my wife drunk?
I did what he said, and took the glasses, thanking him.
Heath stayed behind to make his own drinks, and I walked out to the porch, edging my way through the crowd that seemed to have blossomed on the porch. I had a tingly feeling on my back, like Heath was going to follow me, and he gave the kind of wariness I got from having a mean-looking dog lurking around behind me.
But Robin had found herself someone else to talk to. She was sitting on a bench set back a way from the pool. I stopped on the landing, watching her. In a lot of ways she looked as different from my wife as she possibly could: she was touching the edge of her bikini provocatively and smiling generously for her new friend, who just happened to be a fit guy about my age, with a great tan and a set of very white teeth.
The fucking guy looked like a dentist commercial.
A knife of pain twisted in my stomach as Robin gave a toss of her hair and laughed for her friend, and the silvery giggle echoed all the way up the stairs, like she was doing right next to my ear.
I’ll think of something, I heard Robin saying.
I sucked in my breath and walked boldly down the steps. When I reached the level of the pool and started to cross the stone patio surrounding it, Robin looked over and gave me a smile. Another smile that burned right through me, threatening to make my cock build a tent in my shorts. I felt a flush of embarrassment heat up the back of my neck.
“Oh,” Robin said, as I approached. “You got me a drink. Thanks.” She stirred with the straw Heath had added at the last minute and brought it to her lips, closing their generous shape around the tip of it in a slow and deliberate gesture. As she did, she looked at the guy sitting next to her, and her eyelashes fluttered. She sucked on the straw, and there was no question that she was doing it with the intention of making each of us think about exactly what we were thinking about.
“Mmm,” she said. “Strong.” Then she flashed her eyes toward me again. “Honey this is Donny. He actually used to come here when we were kids, but I barely remember him from then.”
Robin's Fix: A Hotwife Novel Page 8
