Robin's Fix: A Hotwife Novel

by Arnica Butler

  He took his hand from her mouth and used it to rip at her shirt, pulling the material down so that one of her breasts popped free of the shirt. Then he twisted her nipple in his fingers.

  He stood up suddenly, pushing Robin off his knee. She stood on the floor. “Get down on your knees,” he told her, while he unbuttoned his shorts and let them drop to the ground.

  He wasn’t wearing any underwear, so his thick cock sprung immediately from his shorts, just inches from Robin’s body. She was dropping slowly to the floor, dropping to her knees.

  “Take that shirt off,” Heath said. “Let me see your titties.”

  Robin, my wife of seven years, crossed her arms to either side of her waist and obeyed Heath, pulling her white shirt up and over her head. Her breasts sprung loose and bounced in the air while Heath surveyed the sight of them from above.

  Robin was looking up at him, and in my mind’s eye I could see the scene so poignantly, her blue eyes over her pretty mouth, looking submissively at him, waiting for his next instruction.

  Heath used one hand to tug at his shirt from behind and liberate himself. His muscular body was completely naked now, right in front of my wife.

  To my horror, his cock, which I had been relieved to see was pretty much normal in size, if a little thick, was growing. In bouncing twitches, the length of his shaft just seemed to keep going and going.

  Robin was staring at it, and Heath was clearly enjoying himself as my wife stared at his growing member.

  “You ever have a cock that big in your mouth before?” he said, taking the length of it in two fingers and directing the crown of it to Robin’s lips.

  My gut boiled. This was really real. My wife Robin was really getting another man’s cock rubbed over her lips.

  “Why don’t you give me a little kiss?” Heath said.

  Robin puckered her mouth, and kissed the crown of Heath’s cock as I stared at the screen in delightful pain.

  Heath put his hand on her head, his big fingers gripping her ponytail firmly, and then he used all of his wiry strength to push Robin forward.

  Though the view wasn’t exactly perfect, I could still see the strain of Robin’s lips as Heath stuffed the meat of his cock into her mouth, slowly, pushing her forward even when it was obviously too much for her.

  “Is that the biggest cock you’ve ever eaten?” Heath growled. “I bet it is. I bet your hubby’s cock just slides right in there and jiggles around in your mouth like a pinball. Come on, you can do it, take a little bit more in.”

  He pushed on Robin’s head, and I could see that she was struggling to breathe and gagging a little.

  He released her head, and she bounced off his cock, taking a huge gasp of air. Spit linking his cock and her mouth lingered for a moment before dropping to the floor.

  Heath still held his cock to her face. “Don’t tell me that’s the best you can do,” Heath said. “Don’t tell me you’re a slut who can’t swallow my cock.”

  Robin looked up at him and opened her mouth, edging closer to his cock to tell him she was ready to try again.

  “That’s good, you little slut. Go all the way, all the way down, take it in.”

  God, the way this asshole was talking to my wife. I could never say something like that to Robin.

  I stared at the screen, unable to believe what I was seeing, as Robin forced herself to swallow a few more inches of Heath’s cock.

  She still couldn’t make it to the base, and Heath released her so she could gulp at the air before pushing her back onto his dick. “You’re gonna get this all in your throat before we stop,” he warned her. “So keep going. Open up.”

  This time, Robin managed to swallow a little more of his dick. Heath tapped her bluntly on the back of her head with an open palm, trying to force her a little deeper.

  Robin threw her head back, gasping for breath. “I can’t,” she complained. She reached for his shaft and put her hand around it. “It’s too big.”

  “Too big, huh? We’ll see about that.” He grabbed her by the ponytail and turned her around, so that she was largely facing the camera. He pushed her down to her heels. He moved behind her and sort of squatted over her, pulling her head back awkwardly with one hand. “Open up and lick my balls at least. Get those balls in your mouth and suck on them, you useless little slut.”

  I watched in horror as his two, knocking balls sank into Robin’s open mouth. Heath’s fat cock twitched while she pleasured him, her mouth straining to accommodate his hairy nuts.

  Heath stood up after letting Robin suck on him for a bit, and pushed Robin forward onto her hands and knees. Her face disappeared at the bottom of the screen, but I could still see her back and her ass as Heath dropped to the floor and settled in behind her.

  I heard Robin mewl as Heath lined his cock up at her hole, and then she moaned loudly as he slowly moved his hips forward. And though I couldn’t see it very clearly, I knew that it was really happening. My fantasy and my nightmare: Robin’s pussy was getting stretched and filled by Heath’s cock, right in front of my eyes.

  “Oh!” Robin moaned.

  Heath slapped her ass hard with his open hand. “Ride that cock, you little slut! Ride it and show me how sorry you are for having such a useless mouth.”

  He slapped her bottom again, and Robin backed her ass against his hips. She started to work her ass against his hips, riding his cock exactly as he had asked. Heath stared down at the sight of his cock moving in and out of Robin’s pussy.

  Robin’s moans started to get more high-pitched as she humped him, and I could tell she was going to come.

  But Heath had his own plans. He brought his hand to his mouth and sucked on his thumb, then dropped it, between Robin’s legs. Just as Robin’s squealing reached a crescendo, and she was about to come, he pushed his thumb inside of her ass.

  Robin let out a shriek that was both the peak of her orgasm and a yelp as Heath's fat thumb was shoved into her ass. Her legs kicked, but Heath easily controlled her as she bucked against him, both with the hand that was gripping her ass with his thumb inside of it, and with his other hand, which he used to reach forward and grab her ponytail, jerking her head up and lifting her off the ground.

  Robin’s face had the strangest expression as Heath began to fuck her himself, one finger in her ass and her hair being pulled tightly at the scalp. She put her hands on her thighs and let her mouth fall open, a strange sound a bit like a squeak coming from her throat as Heath pounded his cock up and inside of her.

  He withdrew his hand from her ass and made her gasp as he did, then brought his thumb up to her mouth and shoved it in. “Suck on that,” he ordered her, and Robin obeyed, letting him fuck her closed mouth with his thumb while he continued pounding her from behind.

  Suddenly he pushed her flat to the floor, lifted her legs up and started pounding into her mercilessly while his face contorted into a scowl and his muscles rippled. He gave a yell and thrust hard inside of her as he came.

  I stared at the scene: Robin’s legs splayed open on either side of Heath’s hulking mass, his seed bursting inside of her pussy.

  He gave a few more thrusts and grunts as he shook the last drops of his cum inside of my wife, and then he knelt there, panting with the effort, Robins legs still in his hands.

  Robin began to stir, and he released her legs. She got onto her hands and knees and pushed her loosened hair from her sweaty face. I couldn’t read her expression.

  Heath reached forward and pulled her back toward him, his hands fondling her tits. “That was great, baby,” he said, his mouth close to her ear.

  Robin smiled and the warmth in her smile cut through me like a knife.

  Did she really enjoy this kind of rough, degrading sex?

  Heath turned her mouth toward him by moving her chin firmly with his hand, and they kissed.

  And then the words that struck me to the bone: “I’m not done with you yet, though.”

  Robin slid off his lap and onto her own heels. She
lifted her ponytail from her shoulders; evidently it was wet and sticking to her skin. “I need a little breather,” she said. “Beer?”

  Heath rose and pulled his shorts up and over his hips as he did. “I guess,” he said.

  Robin went to the fridge, out of sight of the camera shot, and I heard the sound of the old fridge opening and the bottles inside jingling as the appliance tipped on the uneven floor. Bottles clinked together and then Robin reappeared in the scene.

  I squinted into the screen, my face pressed close to it, trying to see my wife in detail that I knew perfectly well was impossible to grasp. Robin sat down on the chair, her body still naked. I wondered how much wet, foreign cum was lubricating her skin on the vintage plastic-covered cushions of the chairs, what her pussy looked like after being stretched open by Heath’s gigantic girth. Her skin seemed wet, even though that was a detail I certainly couldn’t see in the grainy screen, which was getting grainier as the light faded outside and only the lamp in the kitchen illuminated the scene.

  They clinked their beer bottles together and Robin took a sip of her beer. Then she rose, saying she had to go pee. Heath grabbed at her ass as she passed by him, getting his fingers right into the most secretive parts of her, feeling his own cum slimy between her legs.

  I stared at the man who had just fucked my wife on the screen of my computer. I opened my mouth, as though I was going to say something, and then my heart plummeted as I had the most fucked-up thought: what if Robin had never muted me, after all? What if she was just waiting for me to say something so she could enjoy hearing my pain.

  Of course, that was too fucked up. I knew it, deep inside, so I don’t know why I even tortured myself with the thought. Still, I had a compulsion to test it.

  My heart thudded loudly and rapidly in my chest as I gathered the courage to test the very horrible idea and prove it false.

  “You fucking bastard,” I said, finally.

  Heath flipped the cap of a beer bottle across the table, and the action took place so immediately after I said that that it almost seemed as if he had heard me. My pulse raced and I went cold.

  But he hadn’t.

  Robin sauntered back into the room, her sinewy limbs slipping together, probably dripping with her juices and Heath’s cum. She sat down again and crossed her legs.

  “I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” she said.

  Heath set his beer down, slowly and deliberately. “You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow,” he growled.

  My cock, which was practically bursting, seemed to fill past its potential and I had to clutch my pained abdomen.

  I stared at my wife, my eyes searching the increasingly dim picture for her reaction. Her features were hard to make out, so really it was left to my imagination to picture the changes on her face: did she raise an eyebrow? Did she smile quietly and mysteriously? Or did she frown at this vulgar frat boy because it was too much for her.

  “Turn on the light,” I complained, my eyes beginning to feel as strained as my hard cock.

  Robin gave her foot a little kick, and then I pulled away from the screen with surprise as the whole table scraped across the floor; Heath pushed it roughly as he rose to his feet.

  Robin’s beer tipped sideways and spilled with a clank. She looked startled. Heath was moving toward her, pulling his shorts down and taking out his already hard cock, which it looked like he was planning to cram into her mouth as soon as he reached her.

  And then:

  The worst, most horrifying sound imaginable filled my ears and echoed in my head even as the image on the screen changed abruptly to Robin’s smiling profile picture. The slow, downward-spiraling song of a disconnected Skype call.

  I stared at the screen, my mind unable to contemplate what had just happened.

  “Fuck!” I shouted. I furiously swiped at the screen with my mouse, as the reality of what had just happened came pounding in, dark and real, in huge waves of horror and despair until I felt like I could no longer breathe.

  My

  Wife

  Was

  Fucking

  Heath

  And

  I

  Was

  Not

  Going

  To

  See

  It

  The man who had just said that he was going to fuck my wife until she couldn’t walk was right probably filling her mouth with his fat cock and I wasn’t going to see a moment of it.

  Desperate, I tried calling back on Skype. Maybe she had left the sound on, my addled mind reasoned, as part of some twisted game she was playing, and she would hear the sound of the call.

  But the call was never answered, and whatever was happening there went on, invisible to me.

  I fished out my phone and tried calling her, my heart pounding, my palms sweating. I knew she had no service there, but I thought maybe, maybe if her phone could be in one of those little pockets, she would at least hear it -

  And what, Tony? Take Heath’s cock out of her mouth, tell him she was going to answer her phone, and then see that it was me, and figure out that the feed was dead?

  I sank into the couch.

  I felt like I was sinking into the floor.

  I would not get to see what was happening. I would probably not find out until much later, tomorrow at the earliest, and I would have to spend the whole night being tormented by not knowing. Not knowing how Heath was fucking my wife, how many times, how hard, where, and how long.

  I would not get to see what I knew I wanted to see so desperately: Robin’s slutty performance, or hear what I wanted to hear: her pleasured moans as Heath the brute manhandled her in our cottage.

  How depraved would their next round be? How far would Robin let him go?

  My cock ached, and I absent-mindedly took my cock out and began to jerk myself off, my eyes closed, re-playing the scene I had actually watched over and over. Especially the part where Robin looked up at her dominating lover, her mouth full of his cock.

  But after I came – hard, violently – the bad feelings came back to haunt me all night.

  I spent the night in a sleepless limbo: imagining what they were doing, getting myself worked up by my own fantasies and nightmares and then jerking off and feeling terrible until I got myself back into a state of arousal again and repeated the whole torment.

  I tried calling Robin at two in the morning, at three, at four... I tried her phone, and Skype. But of course, my wife was up to something else entirely, and there was no answer, no window into the world where she was getting her brains fucked out by Heath.

  Finally, somewhere in the very early hours of the morning, around maybe five, I drifted off into a dreamworld that was much like my real world: I dreamed that Robin called me back and held the phone close to Heath's cock as she sucked on it. I dreamed that she called and told me she was leaving me, that she had thought things over all night and Heath was more of a man than me, had what she needed. I dreamed that I drove there in the middle of the night and found them laughing together in bed.

  I woke up to the sing-song sound of Skype. I was so deep in my dreams that for a moment I wasn’t sure where I was or whether anything that had happened in reality wasn’t just part of a dream.

  Robin’s profile picture filled the screen. Bleary-eyed, I sat up and stared at the computer, trying to get my head around what had taken place, and all of the bad (and good) feelings that were getting kicked up inside my chest.

  I didn’t answer her first call. I waited, staring out the window, getting my head around what had happened, what was real and what wasn’t, and what I was going to say to my wife.

  She called again in about ten minutes.

  I contemplated buying myself more time by not answering. It was 7:15 am. I was going to be late for work, I was feeling low and high, and I couldn’t wrangle my thoughts into a single, coherent stream to think of anything to say to Robin.

  But I answered the call anyway. What else could I really do? Robin was, af
ter all, still my wife, still calling me.

  Robin’s smiling face, refreshed and clean like she had just come from a shower, filled the screen. “Good morning,” she said, before I could get a word out of my mouth.

  I mumbled something, rubbing my eyes. What the fuck was I supposed to say to her?

  “Robin,” I said, and I was on my way to saying, “what the fuck?” but I couldn’t get it out of my mouth.

  Robin’s voice faltered a little. “So... what did you think?”

  My heart was aching. What did I think? What did I think?

  “I can’t... believe you did that,” I stammered, trying to sound as though I was making a casual statement about how cool it was, but my ambivalence betrayed me in my voice.

  Robin smiled. “Which part?”

  My eyes went wide. Which part!!!?

  Robin’s smile faded a little. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”

  “I...I...I….” I stammered.

  Robin was looking at me with a smile.

  And then, the familiar sound of Skype ending a call filled my ears.

  “GOD. DAMN. IT!!!!” I shouted. I lifted my hand to send my computer flying across the room.

  Then I picked up my phone.

  Then I went back to the computer and tried to call her again.

  Her Skype icon disappeared.

  I typed furiously into my phone. The messages were half-coherent; my hands were shaking; I sent messages of accusations, messages calling her a bitch, messages asking her to call me back. All the while the image of her smiling face burned into my vision and distracted me from finishing a sentence.

  I set the phone down without sending the message.

  “Calm down,” I told myself.

  Fact: Robin, my wife, had just fucked another man.

  Also fact: she seemed to have done it so that I could watch deliberately.

  And let’s face it, another fact: I had enjoyed it.

  Fact: She was either feigning her inability to communicate with me, or it was a real problem with the phone. I didn’t know which.