The Cayman Proxy (Box One): An Erotic Hotwife Box Set

by KT Morrison

  She stood with her arms to her side, one knee bent and felt really naked. The room hot from the bath, the only sound was the water filling the tub. She felt exposed. He walked around her, fully dressed, and she kept still for him, let him get his look. He stood behind her and took the flowers from her hair. She could hear him undressing behind her.

  They got in the tub together, the water oily and fragrant. He was quiet and gentle and he did what he said he was going to do. Touch her all over. He ran his hands down her shoulders, down to her hands, laced his fingers through hers. He kissed at her neck and she lifted her chin for him. He smelled her hair, put his arms around her and held her close to him. Ran his hands down her back and over her rump, then over her hips and down between her thighs.

  He turned her around facing the window looking out over the ocean. The room was lit dimly but anyone outside could have seen her. She wanted someone to watch.

  He ran his hands down her sides and kneeled behind her, she felt him between her legs so she parted them, lifted her ass for him, let him get in there. She felt his tongue slide over her, felt how wet she was, how much she wanted him to do this. God, he was very good at this. She bent forward, braced herself against the ledge of the window. Mitch ran his hands down her thighs, her knees, over her calves, back up to hold her apart. She gasped.

  “I just want to—not feel watched. To not feel so self-conscious,” Kate said, her back to the hotel door.

  “There's more too, isn't there?”

  She had knocked on the door, feeling the heat washing up from the cab as it waited, parked right in front of the cheap hotel room. Omar opened it, moved aside wordless so she could come in. She waved to the driver and he’d backed out.

  “I just…I want you to do things to me that if my husband watched…he would want to murder you—”

  He grabbed her by the neck with one hand and forced her back against the door. He squeezed her and she could feel tremendous pressure behind her eyes. She couldn't breathe.

  He began to lift her up the door with just one hand. She didn't think he could be so strong. She grabbed his forearm with both hands to relieve her aching neck. She looked down at him her eyes bulging and scared. He smirked and let her down so her feet touched the floor. He stood staring at her, silent. Just a silhouette with a table lamp behind him the only light in the room. His grip relaxed on her throat and his hand moved to her collar. He pushed her down and told her to get on her knees.

  She squatted down in front of him, looking up fearfully. He told her to straighten up, she was sitting with her rump on her heels. She complied and kneeled upright before him feeling the heat from his body curtained by the open ends of his robe.

  “Pull your dress open,” he said.

  She swallowed and stared back for a moment. She pulled out the front of her dress and exposed her breasts held up and together by her forearms. She felt him look over her as she bared herself. His hand moved slowly over and she closed her eyes fearful of what he might do. She felt his flaccid cock against her collar. He dragged it down the plumped up flesh of her supported breasts and felt it drop in between them. He reached out and grabbed her roughly again by the back of the neck. He pulled her hard into him and her chin dug into the point where his manhood emerged from his body. She felt his long coarse pubic hair against her lips and tickling her nose. Her arms came forward to support her weight and ease the pain in her knees. Her arms wrapped around his hips and her fingers dug into the small of his back just at the crest of his buttocks.

  His big grip pulled her head back, grabbing her roughly by the hair. “Open your mouth,” he said.

  She opened for him, looking into his eyes as he watched her. He took his huge soft cock and let it sit on her face, then pushed it past her parted lips with his fingers. He stuffed it into her waiting mouth, filled it right up. She pulled her head back, let it fall from her mouth wetly, swinging in front of her face. She said, “No.” She wanted to be taken roughly, not to be humiliated. She wanted him to dominate her, not make a fool of her.

  Omar lifted her and pushed her stumbling towards the hotel bed. She didn't fall on it, she put her hands out to steady herself and turned around to stand and face him defiantly.

  He strode up to her face to face and hooked two fingers into the bustier. He pulled it down and out hard and she was wrenched forward from the force. She felt the straps tear into the flesh of her back and cut her before they gave way. She looked up to him again, anger tightening her face.

  She stood toe to toe with him, her hair dishevelled, and her breasts hanging out the front of her dress, her ruined bustier tattered below them. Her nipples hardened from the chill.

  He turned her, made her face away from him. He pulled her skirt up roughly, making her ass jiggle. She felt his huge hand grab and squeeze her ass cheeks, and his finger slide in between her legs and up inside her. She was so wet it was effortless. She gasped and her knees buckled. He bent her forward and she put her hands on the bed. He kneeled behind her and she felt his tongue in her backside. Stroking down and in between, she arched her hips and he got his tongue on her clit, mashing it. Then gliding back wide, and probing into her anus again. She squeezed the sheets tight, her grip white and trembling. She didn't breathe. She wanted him so badly right now.

  Then he was gone. She looked over her shoulder and saw him walk to the arm chair and drop into it, his heavy manhood bouncing on the seat.

  She moved to him and he watched her intently. She kneeled between his legs and waited for an instruction. He nodded his chin to his cock and she picked it up and stroked it lightly. Still flaccid, it squirmed and lolled in her small hand.

  “Put your baby finger in your mouth,” he said. She put it in her mouth and held his gaze. “Now rub the tip,” he said.

  She retracted his thick foreskin, gently moved her slick pinky around the head of his dick, tickling at the hole. “Push it in,” he said.

  Inside his penis? She pushed at the hole. “Push it in,” he said again.

  Her other hand squeezed him hard and plumped up the end, his hole widened and she gently pushed the tip of her finger into his urethra. It gave way and she watched her burgundy painted nail gradually disappear inside him. She was disgusted and so turned on at the same time, she felt wild with frustration, she wanted to scream, she wanted him to fuck her so badly.

  She pulled it back out gently, watching the thin skin around his urethra pucker with her. He stiffened in her hand, his big thing getting firmer and firmer, felt the grip of his hole around her finger as he hardened. She pulled her finger out and a steady clear stream flowed from him. She put her mouth over him and drank him up.

  He pulled her head back by her hair and looked at her. His expression had changed, his eyes softened, passionate, and he kissed her, his hand still holding her roughly by the hair. He pushed his tongue into her and kissed her like she hadn't been kissed in a very long time. He stood her up, guiding her by the chin, looking into her eyes, and kissed her deeply again. She put her arms around him and he lifted her skirt and grabbed her cheeks again, pulling them apart and up. She felt his finger at her stretched labia, felt his stiff member hanging against her belly, and felt her thighs sliding together with her own wetness flowing from her freely.

  Then he was stern again, roughly pushing her towards the bed. She was bent over it again putting one knee up on the bed sheets. His hands gripped her firmly around the crease of her hip. Then she felt him pushing against her. His manhood spreading her painfully, forcefully, and she cried out. But he thrust it into her hard and started fucking her. It felt like she was being turned inside out. She was wet, and slick with his precum, but this was an assault. She cried out again and pulled the bed sheets up, bunching them against her open-mouthed silent scream. She felt tears stream from her squinted eyes.

  She did not want him to stop. This was the punishment she wanted. She deserved it for wanting something more than Mitch. She deserved the punishment for hurting the man she loved. I
t felt so good. She panted with his thrusts now, pulling away from him, wishing it didn't hurt. It felt like he was going to fuck her forever. Then he pulled it out, and she felt so empty.

  He flattened her out so she was face down on the bed, her legs together. What was this? He slapped her on the ass, too hard. His hands pulled her cheeks apart and she felt warm liquid. Had he spit in her ass?

  Then she felt him pressing his cock into her anus. Oh, no. He pushed into her and split her wide. She screamed out, but fuck, this was what she wanted. Hurt me. Punish me. He fucked her hard and she cried into the bedsheets. She was being ruined.

  “Tell me you love it,” he said.

  “Ow, I love it,” she cried out.

  “Tell me you need a big dick,” he growled.

  “I need it. I need a big dick.”

  “You can't feel your husband, you hate his tiny little dick.”

  He was plunging into her, it felt like he was all the way inside her.

  “I hate his little dick. I can't even feel it,” she cried. “I just want your big dick, fuck me, please fuck me.”

  She was coming, she felt it building, huge, bigger than she could handle. She felt her arms pulled back and folded behind her, he was pushing her into the bed with one hand while he fucked her with that big thing stuffed up her ass.

  “I hate his pathetic little dick,” she growled as she came, and it shot through her like something that she never had felt before and it kept coming as she felt him sliding in and out of her, and she was still coming. Her bladder let go and she sprayed the sheets.

  “Oh, oh ow, ow,” she said, “Please, oh stop.”

  He pulled out of her gently. It felt like sandpaper. She started to cry into the sheets, real tears. What the fuck was wrong with her? Why does she want this? She sobbed once, but pulled her hair over her face and buried herself in the bed sheet. She felt his hand across her back.

  She lifted her head, said, “I’m fine,” and she smiled at him, “Oh, my God.” She rolled over, put her forearm across her forehead and hid from him. She started laughing.

  The orgasm he’d given her was slow, took a long while to get there, but he had her quivering most of that time. Standing there in the bath, her legs trembling. She’d come hard, her legs giving way, and she had sat on his face, knocking him back. They’d both had a laugh. She’d squatted with her hands between her legs, touching herself, laughing soundless. He sat against the edge of the tub, smiling, and watched her.

  Now she was in the crook of his legs, her back leaning against him, her hair under his mouth and nose. She had her arms around his thighs and he had his hands over her slender shoulders.

  He looked at her thin little rounded knees, held together, sticking up out of the water. She really had a perfect body, he thought. Crazy to think he was laying here with her, able to touch her. She looked so out of his league. But here they were. He ran his hands down her arms watching her glimmering flesh yield to him. Couldn’t believe this was real. She moaned with content and put her neck to the side and he rubbed her back, digging his thumbs into her.

  He was pleased with himself, that he hadn’t thought of Kate. But of course that was thinking of Kate. He hoped she was having a good time. Hoped she was getting herself good and sorted.

  “Is it really better, you know, when it’s bigger?” he said.

  “Sometimes,” she said. She rubbed his knees, “sometimes it just doesn’t matter. Yours is fine Mitch. I’ve seen them like yours before.”

  “Omar’s not normally big though.”

  “No, he’s definitely—he’s a freak. They’re mostly the same size, you ask me. Every so often they’ll be on the bigger side and occasionally you’ll find a really big one or maybe a really small one. Omar’s is...” she laughed unable to explain. “I was obsessed with it that weekend we spent together. I couldn’t keep my hands off it. I even measured it. Sex is a bit tricky though. I didn’t find it all that comfortable.”

  “Kate made us hold them together. He was almost twice as long as me.”

  “Yeah? I missed that,” felt her chuckle against him. “And how wide it is.”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long is yours?”

  “I guess half of whatever his was. I don’t really know.”

  “Would you like me to measure it for you?”

  “Absolutely not.” He laughed, shaking her as she lay across him.

  He thought of Kate, alone now with Omar, worshipping that big thing between his legs. Craving it. Laughing with him, enjoying him, loving being filled up, coming on it, him coming into her.

  He stiffened into Kiley’s back. Feeling his tip sliding against the smooth skin of her back.

  Jesus, why was he aroused by that? He should hate her, the whore. But he knew she wasn’t a whore...

  7

  Pretty Terrible Things

  Omar watched her lying on her back, her hands over face. He watched her big tits wobble, flattened and hanging off her chest towards the bed. She sighed, then started laughing again.

  It made Omar laugh too and he told her she was crazy.

  “Yeah, I probably am.” She sighed again, sat up and wiped tears from her eyes. She played with her face for a bit, like she had an eyelash in her eye or something, and then she sniffed loudly.

  She looked over at him as he lay on his side looking up at her, absently pulling on himself, still hard. She looked down at her torn dress, tried to smooth it out, her breasts hanging over the torn fabric. Her back shook with laughter again. “Well, we’re not stopping here,” she said facing the mirror on the dresser at the end of the bed.

  Omar reached behind her and unzipped her dress all the way down. She sat hunched over with the big wide V of her open dress showing her bare back. She sat up straight and pulled the whole piss-soaked thing over her head and flung it into the corner. She was totally naked now, leaned back on her hands, shoulders up to her ears, she turned her head to him and said, What else have you got?

  He got on his knees and brought her to him, getting her out of the spot where she had relieved herself. They kissed, his hands on her shoulders, while she pulled on his erection with both hands. She told him to get on his hands and knees and he did. She sat back on her haunches and looked at him, said “You really do have a horse’s cock,” looking at it hanging between his legs, the tip touching the crumpled bed sheets. She got behind him, licked the skin of his back. Her hands went in between his legs from behind and grabbed him, started pulling it down, milking him like a farm animal. She used her tongue down his spine, getting down between his cheeks, feeling how warm he was down there. She put one of his balls in her mouth, pulled it and let it fall. She stroked him, pulled on him, his balls rising up on her wrist on the upward stroke. She watched herself jerk him like this, watched his hanging balls get knocked round. She put her mouth between his cheeks, ran her tongue down to his anus and circled him there. She heard him say something, couldn’t tell what it was. She stopped stroking him. She didn’t want him to come yet. She spread his cheeks and pushed her tongue into him.

  He pushed Kiley forward and they both got to their knees. He slid his erection over her cheeks then in between. She bent for him and he slowly slid himself into her anus. She sighed and steadied herself against the lip of the tub.

  “That’s it,” she said. “Fuck me.”

  He fucked her like that, slowly and steadily, felt her enjoying it, working with him. He felt the muscles of her back, smooth with the oily water. He slid his hands around her front and ran his fingers over the bunched skin of her tight stomach.

  She got herself upright and kissed him over her shoulder. He locked his mouth to hers. Her body felt so good under his fingers. The ripple of her ribs, her flat stomach. He ran his hands over her hips and down the V between her legs. She gasped and her head fell forward. He put a finger in her tight insides and let her work on it. He found her clit with his other hand and tuned it, feeding off her responses.

  “Fuck me f
ace to face, Mitch.”

  He let himself fall out of her, watched her turn and spread her legs wide, present herself, eyes locked on him.

  “Fuck me while you look at me,” she said.

  He slid it inside her and she moaned like she wanted it. She felt tight on him, he could see that she felt him inside her. He fucked her slowly, watching her body move under her taut skin. It was slow and gentle until it wasn’t, their breaths coming faster, their thrusting more urgent.

  Omar laid her flat on her back and straddled her waist. His cock, about as hard as it could be, pointing out and touching her under her chin. She grabbed him just below the glans, holding him with one hand, and put her puckered lips to him. She ran her tongue over it, pushed into the hole, then bit on him gently, dragging her teeth from his flange to the very tip.

  Her fingers barely made it around him, even up near the tip. She licked him all over, up and down. All the way to his balls, and back up to the tip. It smelled like perfume and her ass. She pressed it to her chest, rubbing the underside along her collarbones. She lay back on her elbows and pushed her tits together for him, looked up at him.

  He pushed it through them, and she watched the big flared head pop through, the hole coming right at her, then pull back again. She rubbed her tits along the sides, grabbing herself and thrusting against him, pinching her nipples. “Fuck me,” she said.

  He got off her chest and bent down and kissed her. She kissed him back and put her arms around him. They stayed like that, kissing, and she brought her legs up and wrapped them around him, coaxing him, pulling his hips toward her. He kissed down her body, biting at her, breathing her in.

  “Fuck me,” she said again. He moved his hand down her body squeezing her flesh, stopping between her legs. She felt his thumb brush against her, find her clit. She ground herself against him. He took himself in his right hand and pushed it into her. Slowly and gently. He was hard as a rock. Harder than she’d ever felt him before. It was uncomfortable, her hole felt so stretched and sore already, it felt like she was tearing. “Yes,” she whispered in his ear, and it just kept coming.