Satisfying Her Needs: A Hotwife Revealed Story (Her Needs Series)

by Blaise Quin

  And so what if a beautiful woman was giving me a foot job? The waiter was probably jealous.

  Still, I expected him to give us some privacy. Or call the manager. Instead, he asked us what we wanted to order, all the time clearly trying to keep his eyes out of my crotch, without much success. He tried looking just at Andie, but that was even worse for him, as she shamelessly shifted in the booth, thrusting her legs onto me.

  I stumbled though my order, trying desperately to keep my mind off of what Andie was doing, feeling my cheeks redden with embarrassment. Andie, on the other hand, managed to place her order with aplomb, even asking for details about the specials, all the while rubbing my cock with her foot under—barely under—the table.

  Andie appeared to be enjoying herself, dragging out the entire discussion with the waiter. I couldn’t look him in the face, and as my eyes drifted downward I couldn’t help but notice that he had an erection too.

  The waiter finally left, strategically holding the menus over his crotch as he walked away.

  I looked up to see Andie smiling at me. “I noticed you weren’t looking at the waiter,” she said. “What if I had been having sex with him? Would you be too embarrassed to watch?”

  “I never said I wanted to watch you have sex!” I hissed, looking around anxiously, envisioning the people at the next table listening in to our conversation.

  Andie stopped rubbing me with her foot. “Oh, I see. You don’t want to be there when I have sex with someone.”

  “Andie, I—. Can we just forget all about this?”

  Andie leaned over the table toward me. “Will you be able to forget about it? Remember now, we’re being honest.”

  My first reaction was to say Of course I will, but immediately I knew she’d never believe me. I wouldn’t believe me.

  I grasped at my last hope. “What about you? You sounded pretty interested there. Will you forget about it? Remember, honesty.”

  Andie considered. “What exactly are you asking me?”

  “Have you ever thought about sleeping with someone else? Besides me?”

  I saw her hesitate, and I knew her well enough to know the answer. But I was a little angry too. She could have sex with me but she thought about other men? As I saw the conflicted look on her face I was suddenly mad at myself for painting her into a corner. “It’s okay,” I said gently. “Everyone has fantasies.”

  She gave me a little smile, her way of saying thanks for letting her off the hook. “Even you? You think about having sex with other women?”

  “All the time,” I lied.

  “Bullshit,” she said.

  “Look, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a natural thing.”

  Andie hesitated. “I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. I was just a little surprised, that’s all. When you brought all this up.” She giggled. “And what else got up.”

  I laughed. “So all of that stuff you were saying, about checking men out, about how attractive some of those men over there are, you were just making all that up?”

  Andie tilted her head. “Most of it.”

  Just then the waiter arrived with the food. The rest of the dinner was pretty quiet, leaving me to wonder which part Andie had been making up, and which part she maybe imagined coming true.

  As soon as we got home Andie led me by the hand into the bedroom, even though it was barely nine o’clock. She looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry if I teased you tonight. I don’t know what came over me. It wasn’t fair. I let it go too far.”

  She sounded genuinely remorseful, and simply stood there in front of me, her arms at her sides, almost shy.

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I guess I deserved it.”

  “Not really,” she said. Then she put on a fake frown. “Well, maybe a little. Anyway, I want to make it up to you. So. . .here I am. What do you want to do?” she asked demurely, a tone I had never heard in her voice.

  I wasn’t sure what she wanted. Was she asking me for sex?

  Her face was hard to read, a mixture of waiting and wanting and some kind of expectation. I could see her excited breathing, and as my eyes strayed down I could have sworn her nipples had hardened.

  “Andie, what do you want?”

  For a brief second something else flashed in her eyes. Disappointment? What was she looking for?

  “Whatever you want to do to me,” she said. “I deserve it. I teased you and implied that I wanted to sleep with someone else.”

  Again she waited. But I couldn’t think of what she wanted me to do. “I told you, it was okay.”

  A long minute went by, her just standing there. What was she expecting me to do? To punish her in some way? To demand sex?

  Finally Andie spoke, and this time I was sure I heard disappointment in her voice. “I guess it’s up to me,” she said. She sat me down on the bed and slowly dropped to her knees. Her eyes came up to meet mine, as if she was giving me one last chance to do something. When I didn’t move or say anything she sighed and buried her head in my crotch, her hair flowing out over my lap.

  I gasped as her mouth felt for my cock through my pants, and I was instantly aroused. Andie’s lips grasped my erection and moved up and down on my shaft, just as she had done with her foot in the restaurant. Though she’d given me head before, it had never been like this, she’d never gone on her knees for me.

  I reached down and tried to lift her up; I didn’t want her to be in this subservient position, and I wanted to look at her. But she pushed aside my hands and shoved her face harder into me. I wasn’t sure what had come over her, but it felt too good for me to think too much about.

  I was so hard it was almost painful to be hemmed in by my clothes. Andie seemed to sense this and unbuckled my belt, pulling down my pants, and her lips were immediately locked onto the bare flesh of my cock. I groaned as she licked the head, and then dove down the length of my shaft. Now her hands were on me, her strokes matching the movement of her mouth, up and down, hard and fast. For one of the few times since I had been with her I really, really felt that she wanted me to come in her mouth, not for me, but for her, that she wanted me to get off. I reached for her head again, to slow her down, at this rate I wouldn’t last long. As I touched her she grabbed my hands and put them behind her head, her hands on top of mine, pushing down, like she wanted me to shove her head onto my cock.

  It wasn’t the kind of thing I normally did, in fact, I’d never done anything like that, it seemed so—forceful. Demeaning. But Andie appeared to want it, so I left my hands there, although I didn’t use any force. But she did, pressuring my hands hard on the top of her head, pushing down, down. . . she gagged, and I tried to pull myself away, but I had nowhere to go.

  I thought she’d stop, but this only seemed to urge her on, and once again she pulled my hands against her head, and she gagged again and again, and though part of me was confused and maybe a little weirded out it started to get to me, this feeling of control. Or semblance of control, because it was Andie who was really controlling things, and for just a moment I let myself go, thinking of what it must look like from somewhere else in the room, seeing a woman on her knees, beautiful, impeccably dressed, her head being shoved down onto a guy’s cock, and her taking it, actually getting excited by it. . .

  Almost on their own accord my hands pressed down on her head, I couldn’t help myself, and for some reason I thought of the rough biker at the restaurant, the one Andie had said who would take what he wanted, who she wouldn’t be able to stop, and suddenly in my mind it was the biker Andie was sucking on, it was the biker who was driving her head into his cock, and I was watching, but both of them were ignoring me, the biker not giving a shit, and Andie not able to look up even if she wanted to.

  The fantasy became a reality in my mind, and it made me mad, her sucking some other guy, and when Andie’s mouth moved down on me I slapped her hands away and pulled her head forward, hard, and this time it was me who made her gag. Her hands flailed, and I panicked, thinking I had hurt her, bu
t she dove down even more, taking all of me, holding my cock deep in her throat for long seconds, and when she finally let up I could hear her desperate intake of breath. Then her fingers were on me, jerking me, and again I thought of the biker, and Andie on her knees, and after having been taken by him she had fully succumbed, and now wanted him, she wanted his cum, and the very thought of it made me swell and before I had a chance to warn her I shot my load into Andie’s eager mouth. I totally lost control, my hands still on her head, knowing she would want to spit it out but still holding her head down, not letting her, aroused and angry and excited and jealous and frenzied all at once.

  After the last spurt I finally came to my senses and pulled my hands away, aghast. Andie slowly looked up at me, her makeup smudged, her face flushed. I watched, enthralled, as she licked her parted lips, as if seeking out any vestiges of my cum. Her mouth opened more, and I realized with a shock that she had swallowed all of it, something she had never done for me.

  She looked so ravished, and almost slutty, but so beautiful, all at the same time. I waited for her to open her gorgeous eyes, but they remained closed, her breathing ragged, her breasts straining against her blouse.

  My mind was awhirl, wondering why I had been picturing her with another man, on her knees in front of someone else. Instead of with me.

  And wondering, looking at her still closed eyes, whose cock she had just pictured sucking, whose cum she had just swallowed.

  Chapter 4

  After finishing with me, I reached for Andie, wanting to make her feel good, but she jumped up and ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I lay back on the bed in the dark, replaying the entire evening in my head, the dinner, how I had instigated the conversation about flirting, her reaction, my reaction to her reaction, not only what she had said but what she had left unsaid.

  Was Andie trying to tell me something? Did she want to be with another man, other men? Or was it just some harmless fantasy, just the idea of something new, and the novelty in itself exciting?

  I certainly couldn’t fault her for that, after the way I had reacted myself. Still, some of the things she had said implied something really important was missing from our sex life, that maybe she had been having these thoughts all along. Or others.

  And certainly we hadn’t had much of a sex life. If I was honest with myself, it was a bit of a letdown for me. Not that I wasn’t turned on by her, totally. But she just didn’t seem to be as into me, or maybe I was not good enough in bed. Or good looking enough. The only time I had really, really seen her turned on was last week, when she had used the dildo on herself.

  I thought of the men she had picked out at the bar. One of them tough looking, almost scary. The other a broad shouldered black man, like a football player.

  Had Andie just pointed them out because they were there at the restaurant, and she was simply making a point, maybe trying to get me to admit how foolish it was to suggest she be with someone else? By pointing out the biggest, baddest men there?

  But that didn’t explain her reaction to the black man at the shop.

  She was in the bathroom so long I started to get worried. When the door finally opened I saw her briefly silhouetted in the bathroom light. Her face was in shadow so I couldn’t quite make out her expression, but she seemed to be deciding something. Then she reached back and clicked off the light, and the room was once again in darkness.

  I heard her move across the floor, quiet; she had taken off her heels. She sat by me on the bed, and even in the mostly dark room I could see how stiffly she held herself, her hands in her lap.

  After a long moment, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  I reached out to touch her arm. “For what?”

  “I haven’t been fair to you.”

  The words sent a shock through me. What was she saying? Was she going to confess that she was having an affair? Is that why she hadn’t been interested in having sex with me? “What is it?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

  “I don’t know how to say it without hurting you.”

  I gulped. “Honesty, remember? It’s always best.”

  She turned to me. “Is it? Even if it hurts?”

  I took her in my arms. “I love you. And always will. I would forgive you, if you did anything.”

  Andie buried her head in my neck, and I could feel her crying silently. After a long moment she said, “It’s not what I’ve done, but what I haven’t done.”

  I stroked her hair. “I don’t understand.”

  She pulled her head back, looking me in the eye. “I know I’ve not been—a good wife to you, in the bedroom.”

  I shook my head. “What do you mean? Our sex has been fine.”

  Andie smiled sadly. “You are a terrible liar. And we are being honest, aren’t we? I know our sex isn’t great, especially in terms of frequency.”

  “It’s okay, really.”

  “No, it’s not. And I’ve known it for a while. I just haven’t dealt with it. I’ve been selfish, ignoring it.”

  I didn’t say anything, because she was right, we didn’t have a great sex life. At first I had assumed it was the newness of marriage, but as time wore on I concluded that she just didn’t like sex that much. I should have had an inkling from our time together before we were married, it had been much the same. I had always assumed that things would get better, hotter, as time passed and we became more comfortable physically.

  If anything, things had gotten worse. Now Andie was saying that she knew about it, and had let it go on. “No one is to blame. We can fix this. We can talk about it, maybe go to a therapist. . .”

  “I know what is the matter,” Andie said.

  I held my breath. “Are you okay? Healthy, I mean?”

  “No, no, it’s nothing like that. Well, not physically, anyway. Maybe it’s a psychological thing, but it’s not something to do with my body. I wouldn’t keep that from you. I almost wish it was. The truth is actually embarrassing.”

  I thought about her comment about not wanting to hurt me, and a sudden realization hit me. “It’s me, isn’t it. I’m just not good enough for you in bed.” My shoulders sagged. This was maybe worse than an affair.

  Andie looked away, then with an obvious effort forced her eyes back to mine. Even in the semi darkness I could see her anguish. “It’s me,” she said. “I need—I need something more.”

  “Then it is me,” I said. “I’m not giving you what you need. You have to tell me.”

  “It’s unfair. You give me so much already. You support me, I don’t even have to work. We have a nice house. I get to do fun things with my girlfriends anytime I want. We travel. It’s not right to ask for more, to expect more.”

  “Those are material things,” I said.

  “I know. And I know that you love me. And I love you too. And that’s why I married you. But physically—.”

  This was something that every man dreaded, worse than a slap in the face. The truth from someone who knew him best. The truth that he didn’t measure up in bed. “What?” I croaked.

  “Our sex. It’s warm, and loving, and I know you are aroused, but. . .”

  “Just say it, Andie. Please.”

  “I need something rougher. Harder. More forceful.” The words were a whisper, but the impact on me was as if she were screaming, You’re not man enough!

  “What makes you think that?” I asked, still grasping, still hoping that it was something else.

  “Because I’ve—had that kind of sex before. And it’s the only thing that ever really excited me.”

  I turned away. This was hard to take, even though Andie was trying to be gentle. “When?”

  Andie touched my arm. “I haven’t cheated on you. It was before I even knew you.”

  “Maybe you just had a special chemistry with someone,” I said. “It might have had nothing to do with—the roughness. Just that it worked that way with one guy.”

  There was a long silence. “It wasn’t one guy.”r />
  My throat was dry, I couldn’t think. “More than one guy?” We had never talked much about our sexual history.

  “Peter, you know I wasn’t a virgin when we met. I had dated quite a few men. Not that I had sex with all of them, but enough to figure out what I liked, what I needed. You’re right, the first time I was—treated that way, I thought it was because of the relationship I had with that man. But after that relationship ended, I just couldn’t get excited by anything else. I started gravitating to rough men, hard men. They were the only ones who could arouse me, really turn me on. I thought it was a phase, I’d grow out of it. After a while, with a little more maturity, I realized that sex was only one part of a relationship. If I managed to find a guy who could excite me that way, and still be good and loving and supportive, and I loved him, great, that would be a guy to marry. But I never did. And when I met you, and you had all of those other qualities, my—sexual needs—seemed a small price to pay.”

  I had the sense that Andie had been holding this all in for a long time, and now, unburdened, her voice came in a rush. Now she had run down. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

  Andie shook her head. “What was I going to say? That I wanted you to be someone you aren’t? Besides, I knew that things change over time. Maybe as we spent more time together in bed, I’d discover other things I liked, things you did, or maybe my love for you would translate into more physical desire.”

  “But it didn’t.”

  “What do you think?”

  I didn’t say anything for a long time. This was overwhelming. I appreciated the honesty, the closeness of this conversation, but it also hurt. Andie had been keeping something from me.

  And I didn’t measure up.

  Still. . .I loved her. I’m sure other couples had dealt with this. We could fix it. “I can—try. To give you what you need.”

  Andie looked at me and tried to smile. “I appreciate that. But really, Peter, I don’t think it’s in you. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I was attracted to you, I maybe thought, inside, that those other men and how they treated me weren’t good for me. And that I needed someone kindler and gentler.”