Michelle (A Hotwife Adventure)

by C. K. Ralston

  My own reaction surprised me. I felt intense resentment, anger at his presumption that Michelle would do what he wanted, and that old, forbidden sensation of wanting desperately for her to do just that!

  “That would have to be her decision,” I answered somewhat stiffly after a long pause.

  “Of course,” he said magnanimously, “I understand that, amigo.”

  “What would Maria say about that?” I couldn’t help but ask, hoping that bringing up his own wife would forestall his intentions toward mine.

  “She’s not here,” Ramon countered, still smiling. “She’s down in Mexico, remember?”

  He stood up and went over to the DVD player and removed the disc. Handing it back to me in its case, he said, “Besides, I intend to tell her all about it, if Michelle is willing, that is. We tell each other everything. That’s the secret of a long and successful marriage such as ours.”

  I tucked the case back in my pocket as he said, brightening, “Let’s have lunch, and talk about all of this some more. Elena, my housekeeper and cook, has prepared some delicious Mexican dishes for our pleasure today…”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Michelle Meets Ramon

  “Oh, God, how could you do this without even asking me?” Michelle said worriedly, pacing the living room. “This is a nightmare! Now this Ramon character knows all about what I’ve done, too!”

  She stopped pacing abruptly and whirled to face me, saying, “This just keeps getting worse and worse! Soon everyone in L.A. will know what a slut I’ve been!”

  Thinking fast, I replied, “That’s exactly what bringing Ramon into this is designed to stop. He’s a pro at handling situations like this. He can help us; he really can: you’ll see when you meet him.”

  The doorbell rang at that moment and I breathed a sigh of relief. Now that Ramon was here, all of this would soon settle down.

  She’d like him--and trust him to help us--or she wouldn’t. Either way, the outbursts of nerves she’d been experiencing after my return this afternoon from Ramon’s house would cease.

  It was seven-thirty. I had invited Ramon over to our house for drinks and to meet Michelle, and he was right on time.

  “Well, aren’t you going to answer the door?” She demanded; her anger still palpable. “This Mexican thug is your friend, after all!”

  I shook my head, hoping fervently that this would all work out, and went into the foyer. When I opened the front door, Ramon Vega stood there wearing a very expensive bespoke suit with a white, custom-made shirt and an appropriate necktie, holding a huge bouquet of flowers, a big smile on his handsome face.

  We shook hands and I motioned for him to come in. I cut my eyes toward the living room as I whispered, “I’m afraid she’s not in a very good mood tonight, Ramon. She’s taking all of this rather badly.”

  He assured me confidently, “Let me handle that, amigo. I’m very good with women.”

  “And you must be the lovely Michelle,” Ramon said, striding past me and into the living room. “These are for you, but they don’t really do you justice. You are too exquisite a creature for any flowers to be pretty enough to pay homage to you!”

  “Oh, my goodness, they’re fabulous,” Michelle said, beaming as Ramon bowed at the waist while presenting them to her.

  He then kissed her offered hand, rather than shaking it, and she blushed with pleasure and gushed, “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mr. Vega.”

  “Ramon, please,” he said softly, smiling back at her, “no need for last names among friends.”

  “Let me put these in water,” Michelle said, still obviously overwhelmed by Ramon’s good manners and incredibly handsome appearance.

  She looked at me and said, “Why don’t you come in the kitchen with me, and fix Ramon a drink, darling?”

  Once safely in the kitchen she said excitedly, “Why didn’t you tell me he was so…so…?”

  “Dashing, so debonair and great-looking,” I asked her wryly?

  Michelle blushed again and turned to look under the kitchen sink for a vase suitable for the large bouquet. She said over her shoulder, “He’s not at all what I expected! He seems so nice; so civil. He’s not a Rambo-type…like some mercenary soldier of fortune!”

  “So, the fee part of the deal doesn’t strike you as being so obscene now?”

  Her blush deepened as she admitted, “He’s very handsome and quite buffed.”

  “And I take it you wouldn’t mind going to bed with him, if he somehow frees us from Ed Livingston’s clutches?”

  Michelle’s eyes were downcast as she said coyly, “We all have to make sacrifices in life, dear.”

  ****

  “Try to remember any sensors you saw, at either house, Michelle,” Ramon urged her.

  It was nine o’clock and we were sitting in the living room, sipping our cocktails while Ramon questioned her about the general layout of both of Ed Livingston’s residences and made notes on what she said. I was sitting in my recliner and Ramon was seated next to her on the couch.

  The two of them had gotten quite comfortable with each other during the course of the evening, and they were chatting and laughing quite amiably by now. Michelle had clearly gotten over the fact that I had showed Ramon the video of her doing all those nasty things with Ed down in Mexico.

  I got the feeling that she’d soon be doing them with Ramon, and I sensed he felt the same way. As the question and answer session came to an end, he leaned over and whispered something in her ear, and she blushed and giggled like a naughty schoolgirl.

  Struggling to make her face serious once more, she turned to me and said, “Why don’t you take a drive, darling? Ramon and I want to get to…get to know each other better. And he’d feel more comfortable if you weren’t here when that happened.”

  An electric shock shot through me. I was being asked to leave my own house so my wife could fuck another man!

  “How…how long should I stay gone?” I demanded in a shocked, slightly injured tone.

  She looked at Ramon and then said, “A couple of hours, at least, dear. You need to give us a little time to get better acquainted.”

  ****

  I ended up in the little neighborhood bar, drowning my sorrows. It was now eleven o’clock and if I had one more drink, I’d definitely be too drunk to drive home, even though it was only a few blocks away.

  The redhead was tending bar, but it had been busy earlier, and we hadn’t had much time to talk. Now it was nearly deserted on this weeknight, and she came down and asked, “So, why are you here tonight?”

  I laughed bitterly and said, “Oh, my wife is entertaining her boyfriend at our place and they asked me to get lost for a couple of hours.”

  “The same guy she went to Mexico with, the one with the horsecock?”

  “No, this is another one, a new one,” I sighed. “She just met him tonight. I introduced them.”

  The bartender’s eyes went wide as she said, “God, that’s some life you two lead! No one would think of it to look at you; you’re just an ordinary guy from the neighborhood in a sport coat and baggy slacks!”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” I said knowingly, smiling somewhat drunkenly at her, tossing three twenties down onto the bar to cover my drinks for the evening.

  “No shit,” she said, taking the money and ringing up my tab.

  “Keep it,” I said, as she started to place the change on the bar.

  “It’s a big tip, mister,” the redhead said.

  “You’re worth it,” I replied, striving for gallantry and instead managing to sound drunk. “You always listen.”

  “Any time,” she called after me as I staggered toward the door. “I’m willing to listen to what you’ve got to say any time. You’re one of my most interesting customers!”

  ****

  Ramon’s car was still at the curb outside our house when I got home ten minutes later. I was really feeling the several cocktails I’d had at home this evening, especially on top of the four I’
d had at the bar.

  It was just after eleven and I felt as if I’d pass out if I stayed in the car. Even in my half-drunken state, sleeping sitting up in the garage didn’t sound good, so I shut off the engine, lowered the garage door behind me, and shuffled into the kitchen.

  Michelle’s low moan drifting down from upstairs helped sober me somewhat. I eased out of my shoes and took off my sport coat, hanging it over one of the kitchen chairs.

  Stealthily—I hoped—I made my way up the stairs, listening to her sighs and moans of growing ecstasy. Having been married to her for as long as I had been, plus listening to her with Ed on all of those videos, I knew exactly what I was hearing.

  The bedroom door was open and both nightstand lamps were on, turned down to their lowest setting. I stood just outside their glow and watched Ramon and Michelle in the middle of our bed, putting on a clinic as to how doggie-style fucking should be done!

  Ramon’s cock was enormous! It made Ed Livingston’s look average, and that was really saying something!

  Michelle’s eyes were closed and she had a sensual, thoroughly pleased smile on her face as he plowed the long, thick cylinder of hard meat into her juicy cunt again and again. Her big breasts were swaying back and forth as they hung down nearly to the bed’s surface, with Ramon tweaking her nipples randomly as he ravaged her.

  “Oh, God, baby, it’s so biiiiiiiiiig!” She moaned out the words mindlessly, plainly ready to come on his pistoning manhood.

  “Do you like it, chica? Do you like Ramon’s big cock?”

  “Yessssssssssssssss,” she hissed enthusiastically. “I love it!”

  “How about back here; would you like to try it back here, once Ramon has made you come?”

  He was toying with her asshole with his free hand, the one he wasn’t using to tease her nipples. Michelle quivered beneath him and murmured, “It’s so big! I’ve never had one as big as yours back there before! I don’t know if I can take it!”

  Ramon laughed softly and eased his big finger into her ass pucker as he continued to fuck her and toy with her breasts. My wife shuddered and said, “Oh, oh, God, I’m going to come! I’m going to come so hard—you always make me come so hard, Ramon, you devil, you!”

  He merely chuckled and fucked her faster. She screamed as she orgasmed around his thrusting cock and I heard the squishing sound of her very wet cunt receiving the pummeling of its life!

  He’s going to fuck her in the ass now! I couldn’t quite believe something as big as Ramon’s massive dick would fit up in that tiny hole, but I was about to see if it could or not; I knew that!

  Nothing could have dragged me away from that doorway at that moment. I stared mesmerized as Ramon made my once faithful wife climax like a crazy woman.

  He calmly reached down for the tube of sex lube on the bedspread and began to smear it deep into her bunghole with one finger while he withdrew his still steel-hard cock from her super-wet pussy. Ramon greased that huge spear of flesh up too and slowly withdrew is finger from her anus.

  I unzipped my slacks as I watched. I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

  The sight of Michelle down on her hands and knees in front of him, her ass all lubed up and ready, his huge cock poised at the entrance to her butt was too much for me to resist! I stroked my own, much smaller, prick lightly as he pushed just the head into her asshole.

  “Oh, fuck; its so wiiiiiiide!” She moaned as it slowly disappeared into her bowels.

  “Shhhhhh, be a good girl and take it all,” Ramon urged her softly, forcing more and more of his gigantic prick into her ass. “You know you want it, chica!”

  He pinched her nipples with one hand and caressed her soupy cunt lips with the other as he began to move inside her. Michelle groaned and quivered all over, but made no attempt to dislodge the meaty invader.

  God, that thing is HUGE! I had the thought as his dick picked up speed.

  He was powering it into my wife’s tight little asshole over and over, burying it all the way up to his curly black pubic hair with each thrust. Michelle was cooing now, instead of groaning, and I heard her whisper, “It’s starting to feel so fine up my ass, honey! Oh, fuck me; fuck me right up the ass and make me come again!”

  ****

  When Ramon finally shot his load up her butt, I shot mine onto the hall carpet. Thick wads of come rocketed out of my cock as I stroked it, shuddering with how good it felt to watch Michelle getting fucked his way while I looked on!

  When all three of us were finished coming, I staggered over to the spare bedroom and went inside, shutting the door. I dozed on top of the bed, listening to them through the thin wall, as he continued to make her come over and over again.

  He didn’t leave until three in the morning. When I finally heard the front door shut, I heaved myself out of bed and went into the master bedroom.

  Michelle was lying on top of the bedspread, thick gouts of pearly-white semen escaping from both her asshole and her pussy. She had a dried wad of it on her cheek also as she looked up, still bleary-eyed from all of the intense sex she’d just experienced.

  “How…how long have you been home?” Her voice was hesitant, slightly guilty-sounding as she asked the question.

  “I got home at just after eleven,” I answered, stripping off my shirt and slacks, kicking out of my shoes.

  She glanced over at the clock and shuddered when she saw it was now past three. Looking up at me again, shamefaced, she said, “Then you saw…you heard?”

  “I saw everything, you little slut,” I murmured, reaching down and pulling her toward my nude body.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she sighed, unable to meet my gaze, “but he was so…so utterly yummy! And he wanted me so much!”

  “Was he better than Ed?” I asked as I slid my hard dick into her sopping wet pussy, feeling a thick coat of Ramon’s jizz inside there.

  “Oh, he was so much better!” She gasped, as I pressed my hard on against her clit and fucked her harder. “You’re not…mad at me?”

  I kissed her jism smeared lips. When we broke apart at last, I asked, “Is he going to help us with Ed?”

  “Sure,” she said as if that were a settled issue.

  “Then why would I be mad?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Retribution

  Ramon’s plan turned out to be simplicity itself, and it worked flawlessly. Ed Livingston’s Puerto Vallarta house burned to the ground under mysterious circumstances a few nights later.

  While Ed was down there, checking into the causes of the fire, the same thing happened to his Bel Air residence. The Fire Marshall said the Bel Air fire was definitely arson: the way it had burned right down to the foundation so quickly left little doubt that it had been deliberately set.

  There were, apparently, lots of clues. But no usable clues were found.

  The fire in Bel Air had started in the master bedroom—where Ed kept the most intimate examples of his DVD collection, as well as the electronic gear he used to copy them—and it had spread rapidly into the rest of the house. Whoever had set the fire got lucky, according to the fire department: all of the servants were off that night and out of the house when it went up.

  The piece de resistance was the break-in at Ed’s offices the night after the Bel Air fire, wherein his safe was broken into and its contents all stolen. There wasn’t a fingerprint to be found, and all of the many surveillance cameras scattered throughout the building and the parking lot had apparently all failed at once; so there wasn’t an image of the thief to be seen!

  Ed Livingston didn’t get to be nearly a billionaire by being stupid. After the office break-in, he figured out who was behind this incredible string of misfortunes he was experiencing.

  He sounded livid when he called Michelle’s office, but Dolly wouldn’t put him through to her. Michelle had suddenly—inexplicably, as far as the secretary was concerned—cut Ed Livingston from her active client list earlier in the week and given Dolly specific instructions as to what to do if he
called or showed up at the office.

  Michelle had thought she was being sly about it, but he’d still managed to catch her unawares two nights later, just as she was leaving work. She’d stood at the glass door in back of her building for several minutes, making sure that Ed was nowhere in sight before she opened the door and walked briskly toward her parked car. But he’d come roaring down the alley in his limo, his driver cutting her off as she got ready to pull out of the lot.

  Ed had come storming out of the rear seat of the limo and had motioned for her to put her window down. She wouldn’t.

  He’d been screaming so loudly that she’d had no trouble hearing him, even though her window had stayed up. He’d ranted and raved about how she had cost him hundreds of thousands of dollars with the two fires.

  Apparently, he’d had fire insurance, but it was proving woefully inadequate when it came to replacing things he considered priceless. The baseball card collection he’d started as a boy had gone up in the Bel Air fire; and it turned out that his Aztec artifact collection had been seriously underinsured down in the Puerto Vallarta house.

  He’d been practically jumping up and down with anger next to her car as he’d demanded that her husband and she repay him for his losses. If she didn’t, he’d threatened, he’d wring her neck the next time he got his hands on her!

  Michelle had heard enough. She backed carefully past the limo into the lot, whipped her Jaguar sedan around, and headed for the other exit and home, calling Ramon on her cell phone as she drove.

  “Don’t worry about a thing, chica,” Ramon had said calmly. “I’ll take care of it.”

  He added, just before hanging up, “Don’t forget about Wednesday night. I’m so looking forward to showing my house.”

  “Brandon says it’s lovely,” Michelle had answered.

  “He didn’t get to see the master bedroom, Chiquita, but you will, never fear.”

  ****

  “How did it go?” I asked softly when she returned early Thursday morning.

  Michelle wasted no time in doffing her clothes and climbing into bed with me nude. She was smiling shyly in the soft light of the nightstand lamp.