Body Of Research: An Experiment In Hotwifing

by Arnica Butler

  “Of course,” I said. My voice was low.

  I put a hand on her knee.

  It would have been possible to cut through the tension in the air that night. The energy between us.

  Or maybe I'm imagining things. It's how it felt for me, though. I was nervous, sweating on my palms, and my chest felt tight as I managed to get out a question:

  “What, uh, what would you...imagine?”

  She tipped her head back against the couch. “Oh, my God, no, that's a secret.”

  “Come on.”

  She shook her head.

  I moved my hand up her knee, inward toward her thin inner thigh. The jeans she was wearing were a thick material, and it was hard to know if I was sending any kind of signal through them.

  But then she gave a light gasp. More of a puff of air, a little high-pitched with excitement as it escaped her lips. I moved a little closer to the center of her legs. “Come on, I'm game. Just for fun,” I said. “Here, show me one guy you thought about, tell me about him a little, and then I'll drop it. Promise.”

  She looked at me.

  “But I didn't actually like, think about it,” she said defensively. “Not doing it. Not for real. So... because you aren't, like, actually serious, right? It's just fantasy?”

  But even as she said this, I could see from her face that she was torn by the same ambivalent feelings that I was. Or at least, I hoped that's what I saw. Even as she formed her doll-faced features into an expression of demure worry, with just a hint of trepidation, I could see the gleam of interest in her eyes.

  Genuine interest.

  Not only that, she leaned toward me, and her own hand made its way to my groin, where she found my very erect cock.

  Her eyebrows raised, just slightly, and her eyes held mine. There was a kind of complicit smile between us in that moment. Still, we were circling the issue, neither one of really certain the other wasn't just joking. “Sure,” I breathed. “Just fantasy.”

  Her hand was still on my cock, and her face was still contorted into her expression of mild concern. “Okay,” she whispered, and lowered her eyes as though she felt contrite. “I liked this profile.”

  Her words sent a shudder through me. The shudder of excitement surged in my cock, and she must have felt it, recognized that it was the result of her words. My own secret was unraveling, and surely she knew that.

  It took me a second to realize that she had lowered her eyes to look at her screen.

  She held the phone up, screen toward me, after swiping through it with an easy expertise that betrayed a lot more usage than she seemed willing to admit. The practiced, minute movements of someone who got on an app often. Searching. Another shudder went through me as I looked at the screen.

  “Sam,” I said, dryly, staring at the picture and reading the name.

  The guy looking back at me was in his late twenties at most. Like Jen. A manly smattering of stubble graced his jaw. He had a shock of dark hair, long-ish and very stylish. He was fit, posing while on some kind of mountaineering expedition, an ax in his very muscled-looking hand. Wiry forearms and biceps were evident beneath his shirt.

  Okay, so: I'm not a super-athletic guy, but I do okay. I was always a little thinner than most guys, which has served me well because now I'm not fat and I don't have a pot-belly. Still, one thing I've always felt a little intimidated by is the sort of muscled, upper-body fitness that a guy like “Sam” has. The jealousy of it rippled through my body, burning and arousing and horrible all at the same time. “Nice biceps,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as possible.

  It was a delicate game, eliciting a certain reaction in Jen, once that was based on the pleasure of jealousy, without revealing my actual jealousy or hinting at exactly what kind of jealousy I felt. “Is that what you liked about him?”

  But for all my efforts at maintaining a calm voice, I knew that the physical response I was having was betraying me. The response to thinking of Jen running her hands over “Sam's” biceps, the idea of her enjoying the hard feel of them, taking pleasure in the shape of his body under her palm, was snaking through me, and I knew Jen could feel it under her hand, which she had slowly begun to rub over the shape of my cock.

  In her eyes, something flickered. “I, uh... yeah, that's one of the things I liked about him.” She changed her sentence, which had surely begun as something else. “His biceps.”

  “Because he seems like a really strong guy,” I said.

  “Yeah. It's sexy,” she admitted.

  I began to unbutton her jeans. She didn't resist at all, and when it started to take too long, she squirmed out of them. While she did that, and we looked at each other in a sort of state of disbelief – after all, this was totally new and strange territory and not the kind of thing we ever did, at all – I took my own pants and underwear off.

  Jen's panties, I noticed, were from the new set she had purchased. Even though we had already talked about, and she had dismissed my suspicions with an easy explanation, I stared at her panties and couldn't help feeling another wave of jealous fantasy rolling over me. The transparent material was so unlike her, so impractical. An intricate, delicate lace lined the top, and the -

  I sucked in my breath. Through the transparent material, I had a nice view of the triangle of hair on her mound.

  And it was neatly trimmed, bare except for a trim v-shape just above her slit.

  I felt like I was getting slammed in the head with a hammer. The room spun.

  What was that about?

  Just yesterday, my mind whispered, she was not this well-groomed. Remember her curls in your hands?

  The sight of her trim bush sent suspicion and jealousy careening through me again.

  But instead of angering me, it turned me on more than anything.

  In fact, I recognized: I had almost wanted my jealousy reignited.

  At least for this little role-play, at least while we fucked.

  I dropped to my knees on the couch and slid her panties off with my hands. I left them at her ankles, and used one hand to push her legs apart, gently, staring at her trimmed bush and the glistening slit that blossomed open as she spread her legs. She was wet, excited, and the scent of her cunt made me wild as it assailed my nostrils. With my other hand I felt the panties: soaked through, sodden with her excitement.

  She, like me, could not hide the fact that whatever it was we were thinking, however fantastical or realistic we wanted it to be – it was driving both of us wild.

  But I could see with my own eyes now. Her cunt was wet and shone in the light.

  I wrapped my hands around her thighs and pulled her closer to me. “Keep talking,” I said. I ran my tongue along the left outer lip of her pussy, lightly, pleased with the ripple of pleasure that went through her body. I did the same to other side, teasing her. To my surprise, she opened her legs wider, inviting me in.

  Jen was a fun time in bed, but she wasn't really big into oral sex, giving or receiving. She usually squirmed away from my mouth, and if she gave me head, she was always very willing to put an end to it and seemed to do it out of duty more than anything. But now she was parting her legs wide and applying a gentle pressure on the back of my neck to draw me forward to her soaked lips.

  And then there was the other day, in the shower...

  What was going on with her? A feeble voice wondered.

  But my libido took over my mouth, pressing forward, prying at the “story” I wanted to hear from her.

  “Did you ever get in touch with this guy?” I asked.

  Jen was looking down at me. “Uh..I...” again something flickered in her eyes. “Yeah, I was in touch with him a lot.”

  She was lying, and it was obvious, but it still cut through my gut.

  “And you met him?” I lapped at the wet center of her gash, where her small, neat clit was fat and swollen and begging to be sucked into my mouth. But first I hoped to draw a little bit of dirty talk from Jen.

  She shook her head.
/>   I slid my tongue into the damp crease between her folds and then crossed over her clit, briefly sucking her button up inside my mouth, giving her a taste of what I could do if she only relented, or understood what I wanted her to say.

  To pretend.

  Jen closed her eyes, and opened her mouth.

  I pulled away, brushing my lips over her engorged sex, my cock pulsing each time she shuddered with pleasure and moved her body toward my mouth. I let my hot breath drive her wild, but I held her by her thighs just centimeters from my mouth. “Tell me about meeting him,” I said.

  Jen's eyes opened, and she looked confused for a brief second. Or hesitant, like she couldn't believe what I was asking. Her mouth started to form the word, “what?” But then a look of boldness, of curiosity and interest, washed her confusion away.

  A very sexy look came over her face at that point. A sort of hesitant determination. “Yeah, I met him,” she said.

  “And?” I let the blade of my tongue slide over her slippery clit. Her thighs shook in my hands. I drew away, trying to extract just the tiniest bit of fantasy from her, even though I was driven so wild by this time that I could barely stand it. “Was he as hot as his picture?”

  “Yeah,” Jen breathed, and even though it was plain and without detail, so far from what I wanted her to say, I rewarded her by sucking her clit into my mouth and rubbing the tip of my tongue over the rough knob of hyper-sensitive skin in the center. She moaned, and pressed her hips toward me.

  I treated her to a rhythmic pulsing, and was pleased when she began to nearly hyperventilate, coming closer and closer to the edge.

  Then I slowed the motion of my tongue, and disappointment moved frantically over her face. “What do you want...me to say?” she said.

  “Did he have a big cock?”

  She looked a little alarmed, but she was desperate, so she purred: “He did. I...”

  I drew away from her clit, which was pulsing in my mouth. She mewled, and then dove right in:

  “I put my hand on it.”

  I drew her clit back into my mouth and laboriously swept my tongue over the center. Jen moaned and tried to push herself into my mouth further, hungry now.

  “I felt it through his jeans... “she began, and I released her clit and licked at it in short spurts.

  “Oh god...okay...and then I got wild... “

  I sucked her back into my mouth.

  “... and I slid my hand into his pants. And I just grabbed it...”

  I looked up at her face. She was flushed, sweating along her hairline, and a single bead of sweat had formed on her upper lip. Her eyes were wild. Her pussy was gushing with excitement, and her body was tense with need. “Tell me more,” I said.

  “I grabbed it, and I liked it. It was so big, so thick... I wanted to... I wanted to...”

  By now I had begun sucking on her clit in earnest, and I felt her breath stop in her chest and her whole body rattle with a very sudden and intense orgasm. Her voice was caught in her throat with a squeak, and then she yelled as she grabbed my hair and pulled. Her already sopping cunt seemed to melt in my mouth, turning to heated liquid, dribbling down my chin.

  “Oh fuck,” Jen said.

  I stood up and shimmied out of my pants. Jen remained as she was, splayed on the couch, her legs spread and her eyes half-closed, her thighs still quivering with the last shudders of her orgasm.

  I was planning to sink into her pussy, and I was starting to kneel again to get in to her hot, liquid center, when she surprised me by sitting up suddenly. She grabbed my cock and squeezed it.

  Then she pulled me toward her, leaning in, and suddenly her mouth was surrounding my prick. She sucked a little on the end of my cock. I stared in shock – like I said, oral, either way, wasn't really Jen's thing.

  She surprised me even further by leaning her head back, and holding my cock in her hand, stroking me slowly, with the very tip of my dick resting on her lower lip. A bead of precum dripped down and smeared over her lip as she moved the ridge of my head slowly across it. The crown of my cock grazed the smooth ridge of her upper teeth. I shuddered.

  “I wanted to suck on it,” she said. “I don't really know what came over me.”

  My eyes went wide, and my cock squeezed out another pearl of hot precum. The meat of my dick flexed violently in her hand, and then again when a look of pleasure came over her face because of my reaction.

  “I wanted to suck it, just like this,” she said.

  She took me into her mouth, and I sucked in my breath, trying desperately to keep myself from exploding in her mouth right then and there. Her lips kept going, deeper, deeper, all the way to the base of my cock.

  She swallowed me whole, and then she moved her mouth back up the length of my shaft.

  Again.

  I grasped the back of her head as she started to move faster. I knew she didn't like it when I came in her mouth, and though it was rare for her to suck my cock, we had worked out a sort of silent, awkward maneuver for her to pull away just when I came. I pulled on her hair, trying to push her away, because I could feel myself tipping over the edge.

  But I was met with an opposite resistance, and Jen pushed down deep, sucking me hard, just as I went over the edge. “Jen, I...fuck...”

  I never finished whatever it was I had intended to say. My cock exploded in her mouth, and I felt the load of hot cum fill her cheeks and swirl around my cock.

  She kept sucking, and the liquid disappeared, sucked into her throat.

  She swallowed my cum.

  Then she slid away, sucking up all of the cum that coated my shaft as she did.

  She released the crown of my dick with a puckered pop, and let herself fall back against the couch. She had a smile on her face, the kind of smile I had never seen before. A very sexual, pleased, smile. I was panting, stunned, with my still-hard cock pointed straight in front of me.

  “Whoa,” I said, to fill the silence.

  Jen suddenly covered her face with her hands. “Oh my god,” she said. “I can't believe we just did that.”

  I crawled onto the sofa next to her. “Why not?” I said. “That was really hot.”

  She dropped her hands and looked at me. The look of slight disbelief was back on her face. “Really?” she said.

  I tipped my head sideways. “Seriously?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No, I mean, it was hot... but you mean, like... I don't know, it's just so... I mean, you know I was only pretending, right?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “And that I wouldn't ever like.. actually...” Her voice drifted off, and she looked in front of her. Her eyes became a little distant. A little vacant. Her expression changed.

  It was the change in her expression that pushed a lot of things back into my mind.

  Sure, Jen had provided an explanation for practically everything I had been suspicious of.

  But things like her new underwear still irked me.

  I looked down at the appealingly shaved v-shape of her neatly trimmed bush.

  Now... it wasn't as if she never did anything about her pubic hair. She was prone to trim it up, or go get a wax for the summer, or at some strange, seemingly- random point in time, get waxed for no reason at all. But she would do this and then go six months without giving it another thought. So really there wasn't anything super unusual about this.

  Except the timing.

  Except, when stacked up with all the other things that were plausible and easily explained, it painted a picture of too many coincidences. Too many things that were sexual, and different, all at the same time.

  I touched the silky, trimmed hair that remained above her gash. “This is new,” I said.

  She looked at my fingers. “Oh yeah,” she said. “That.”

  And then there was a pause.

  Depending on what I felt like when I remembered it, the pause was either extremely long or very brief. When I wanted to think about my wife cheating on me, hiding secrets, and being a whor
e with all of her dating app men, I remembered the pause as very long. A liar's pause, a moment she hadn't anticipated. A cover-up she had forgotten to create.

  But then, when I am in a mood in which I am disinclined to think of my wife as a cheating whore, the pause was brief. More like the pause of someone who had a question put to them out of the blue.

  She turned to me and smiled.

  The smile seemed genuine, but I was starting to think that my judgment meant nothing. She drew a hand up next to her cheek and dragged the back of her palm lazily upward along her face as she stretched. “I got all that new underwear and it was like, 'whoa,' better do something about that.”

  I nodded, biting my lower lip. “Mmhmm,” I said. “So that's not for your new boyfriends?”

  She rolled her eyes, and stood up. She slid her panties up and over her hips. The back of the fabric was totally transparent, and cast only a sexy black mesh over her tight ass. “I told you,” she said, bending over to pick up her jeans and sweatshirt, giving me a nice view of her very wet, trimmed cunt through the material of her panties. “I only have the one.”

  Another shudder went through me, and incredibly, I felt my cock coming back to life.

  Jen stood up and shook her hair out behind her. “Man,” she said, changing the subject. “I am hosed. I have to go to bed.”

  She pressed her fingers to her lips and blew me a kiss, without fully turning or meeting my eyes.

  There are a lot of ways, of course, to interpret all of this. None of them are 100% convincing in their own right.

  And sitting on the couch, another hard-on gathering in my dick, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to be convinced of one thing or the other.

  C hapter 6

  NEW DRESS

  I felt like something had genuinely changed in our relationship the next morning.

  I could have viewed the change as a change for the better, if I wanted to see it that way. Jen was in a chipper mood, and an affectionate mood. This was much different than her usual cold, distanced, and crabby morning self. Only after a cup of coffee did I normally dare talk to her, and it had become a general fact of life that I wasn't going to feel any physical affection before 11am. It had been like that for years now, which had never worried me all that much.