We knocked on the door. He opened it. He’d removed his suit jacket and tie and was holding a scotch and soda in his hand. He ushered us into the room.
I thought about begging for mercy, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Couldn’t bring myself to give him that added satisfaction because I was pretty sure it wouldn’t make a difference in any case.
He stepped up close to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, his palm cupping a full breast. She shivered.
“We need to discuss ground rules,” I said.
He turned to face me. He squeezed her breast and laughed. “That’s easy. Lana does what I tell her.”
“No, I --”
“That’s it,” he said firmly. “But don’t worry, I won’t leave any permanent marks.”
“Alan….” I trailed off.
He’d turned back toward her. He put down his drink and reached behind her neck, deftly untying her halter. The dress peeled off her shoulders, exposing her full breasts, barely contained by a black, strapless bra, which Alan just as a quickly pulled down to expose my wife’s heavy tits and thick, prominent nipples.
“Lovely,” he said as he slowly tweaked her nipple between his thumbs and forefingers.
It was like I wasn’t there. And I shouldn’t be there. I couldn’t see this. I slowly backed away toward the door.
“Rick?” He stopped me in my tracks. “Where are you going?”
“I….”
He laughed. “No, no, I insist you stay and watch at least some of this. It’ll be a good object lesson for you.”
“I….” I started, but I was speechless.
He placed his hands on Lana’s shoulders and pushed her down to her knees. She didn’t resist and instead looked up at him submissively.
He began to unbutton his pants. “Time to get to work, Princess.”
She gave him a small nod, her eyes drifting down and then going wide as she spied his long, thick tool.
He chuckled. “Bigger than you’re used to?”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Her initial reaction had been unequivocal. She was impressed. It wasn’t as if I was even in the running. He was at least seven inches and very thick and not even completely hard yet. Lana licked her lips. It was surely subconscious, and in a way, that made it worse.
He ran his fingers through her hair and grabbed a thick handful at the roots as he stroked his fat tool until he was rock hard. Her eyes never left his prick, and when he pressed in closer she opened her mouth to accept him without complaint. Her full lips stretched around his girth. He pressed a couple of inches in and then pulled out, his cock glistening with my wife’s spit. Holding her head steady, he thrust in a little deeper, nice and slow, very controlled, obviously relishing the sensation of exploring her mouth a little bit at a time.
He chuckled. I looked up and our eyes met. “Enjoying the show, Rick?”
“Fuck off,” I replied.
“Ugh,” Lana grunted.
I looked down to see that he had most of his cock inside her. She was looking up at him anxiously.
“That’s it Baby,” he encouraged. “Take it in your throat, nice and easy.”
He pressed in further. She made a slight choking sound, but didn’t pull away. He withdrew his cock and gave her a moment to recover before pressing back in, slowly, slowly, but this time he didn’t stop when she grunted, didn’t stop until he was balls deep in her mouth.
“Beautiful,” he sighed.
He pulled out and after another moment’s paused, plunged back into her wet mouth. All the way again, easier, smoother.
“Did you know she barely has a gag reflex?” He asked.
I didn’t answer. I hadn’t known, of course. But that’s not why I was speechless, or at least not the entire reason. Truth is, watching him fucking my wife’s face with his big prick was mesmerizing. Or maybe appalling. Or… I’m not sure. All I know is that I couldn’t respond.
He fucked her mouth harder and faster. Spit ran from the corner of her mouth, meeting at her chin, and then dripping in thick gobs onto her naked, heaving breasts.
He moaned suddenly and she gulped desperately to swallow his load. He pulled out until only the tip remained in her open mouth, and I watched as the last drops of his come landed on her waiting tongue.
“Now, that’s what I call an ice breaker,” he chuckled.
I recovered my power of speech. “Can we go now?”
He answered with a laugh. “Sit,” he said gesturing to an armchair. Numb, I did. Then to Lana he said, “Get naked.”
He slipped off his own clothes and sat down on the sofa.
Lana glanced at me sheepishly, but then obeyed his command. She slid her dress over her hips and pulled off her panties. Leaving her heels on as if she instinctively knew he’d want that, she approached the couch.
I didn’t quite know where to look. None of the choices were appealing. I could either look at his arrogant, smirking face or his big, semi-flaccid cock, still wet from my wife’s mouth, or at my wife herself, naked now, and ready to service him again. I opted for a middle distance stare that let me see it all without focusing on any of it.
He patted the cushion beside him, and she sat down.
“Don’t get too comfy,” he said curtly.
He palmed her nape and pulled head down into his lap as he eased her knees onto the cushions. His intentions became clear as she untwisted herself. As I heard her slurp his prick back into her mouth, her ass rose in the air, giving me a perfectly obscene view of her glistening pussy and puckered, little asshole.
“God, your wife sucks a mean cock,” he taunted.
She was bobbing up and down in his lap with seeming enthusiasm. I chastised myself silently. She was just doing what she had to. Doing it with noticeable reluctance probably wouldn’t make things any better.
He smacked her ass firmly. She yelped around his prick. He slid his hand between her cheeks, his finger slipping between her lips and then trailing over her anus. She shivered.
“So which hole should I fuck next, Rick? Cunt or ass?”
I didn’t answer. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He chuckled. “I think Hubby wants to see you take it up the ass.”
His fingertip slipped into her butt. She whimpered, but when she tried to rise up to protest, he pressed down on the back of her head to keep her on his prick.
“No,” I said simply.
“No, what?”
“Not in the butt,” I said.
“So where should I fuck her?”
I groaned. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“Ass it is,” he said. He pressed his digit deeper into her ass.
“No!” I relented, “In the pussy.”
“The what?”
I grunted. “Her cunt. Fuck her cunt,” I said miserably.
“Whose?”
I sighed. I knew what he wanted, and knew too he wouldn’t accept anything less. “Fine. I want you to fuck my wife’s cunt.”
He looked at me skeptically.
I surrendered. “Fuck her wet cunt. Fuck my wife’s hot, wet cunt.”
He laughed. He wiped his hand on his boxers and then plunged three fingers deep into Lana’s pussy. She let out a muffled moan, her mouth stuffed with cock. His digits squished inside her and her hips began to roll in time with his thrusts. His other hand was beneath her, mauling her big tits, stretching out her nipples, which meant he wasn’t pressing down on her head anymore. Not that it mattered, she was sucking him deep into her mouth, those little choking sounds proof that she was still taking him into her throat.
She was surely just trying to finish him off with her mouth rather than have to fuck him… a transparently obvious rationalization that even I couldn’t hold on to. I couldn’t blame her, though, for the way her body was responding to him. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine.
The sound of him slapping her ass broke my train of thought. Her’s too. She looked at him, his hard, wet
cock jutting up from his lap.
“Climb on,” he ordered.
He pulled her into his lap, but she didn’t resist, and even though it happened too quickly for me to be sure, it almost seemed as if she helped guide his thick tool into her ready snatch. She dropped down hard and let out a lusty growl.
He slapped her ass. “Come on, ride that dick.”
She obliged eagerly, bouncing up and down on his rigid tool. He turned slightly and spread her ass cheeks, giving me a view of her tight pussy clinging to his thick shaft.
“Go ahead, Baby, tell Ricky how much you love my cock.”
He slurped at her breasts and then lightly bit down on her nipple until she squealed.
“It feels good,” she breathed.
“Louder,” he ordered.
She turned toward me and gave me a resigned look that managed to convey that she was just doing what she had to. And yet, she sounded convincing, “It feels so good inside me.”
My wife turned back to face my boss, and with her hands on his shoulders, she began to ride him still faster. His hands explored her butt crack, and his finger disappeared back into her ass.
She hissed and shuddered. An orgasm or just a response to a finger in her butt?
He thrust hard up into her. She grunted. And then as his cock slid back out, her grunt turned to a sultry moan.
“Ugh… mmmmmm… ugh… mmmmmm… ugh… mmmmmm….”
He paused, and she dropped down into his lap, his cock buried in her pussy, his finger deep in her ass. She ground against him, back arched, chest thrust out to offer him her nipples, which he eagerly sucked into his mouth.
He lifted her off him and she groaned as his prick slipped out of her now stretched pussy. He manhandled her onto her hands and knees, facing me. He grabbed a handful of her thick hair and raised her head so that she was staring right at me, glassy eyed, gasping, licking her dry lips. I turned away.
“Look at her,” he ordered.
I swung my gaze back in her direction, and as I did he slammed into her from behind. She gasped and her eyes rolled back into her head. He pounded her violently making her tits sway beneath her. She was panting like a sprinter, sweat trickling down her cheeks. Their bodies slapped together, the smell of sex and sweat, pungent and sweet filled the air.
Suddenly, she let out a high-pitched squeal.
“You like my thumb in your ass,” he commented, probably more for me than her. “My cock is next.”
“No,” I snapped. “You promised.”
He laughed. “No. I just agreed to fuck her cunt first. But now her ass is calling to me.”
He dribbled spit into her butt crack and churned his thumb into her anus, replacing it momentarily with two fingers. She whimpered.
“She didn’t do anything to deserve this,” I said desperately.
“No, you did,” he acknowledged. Then with a grin. “You fucked me up the ass, Rick. But since I’m not gay, you won’t get the pleasure in return. Instead, you’re going to watch me fuck your wife’s tight, little asshole.”
My mind swirled. I should never had let this happen. I never would have had Lana shown any inclination of resisting. But she hadn’t. Or maybe that was a rationalization?
She sighed, and I saw he’d pulled out of her pussy. He stroked his slimy, slippery prick and began to rub the head against her anus. I tensed up and prepared to launch myself out of the sofa and onto Alan. I wasn’t sure I could take him, but I could get him off Lana. I looked at my wife’s face, and our eyes met. She was glassy eyed and heavy lidded. I’d expected desperate apprehension at having her anal virginity taken, instead what I saw was sultry anticipation. She bit her lip.
“Oh... my... God!” she gasped.
“Tell him,” Alan commanded.
“He’s in my ass. Oh God, Rick, he’s in my ass.”
Not that I needed the help. I could see it with my own eye. See his fat slab of meat forcing its way, inch by inch, into my wife’s impossibly stretched asshole.
“Fuck, she’s tight,” he moaned.
He seemed a little taken aback as well, and he couldn’t seem to stop staring at the same thing I was now staring at, the sight of his cock plunging into Lana’s anus.
Her body shuddered and I wondered again if she was climaxing. Whatever it was, it seemed to get Alan even more fired up. He thrust in harder. She squealed. Harder, deeper. Her sounds went up an octave, a desperate sudden squeak.
I tore my eyes away from Alan brutally sodomizing my wife, and found again her face. She was flushed, lips pursed, eyes up toward the ceiling as if in prayer, obviously barely keeping it together, but neither frantic nor desperate.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“She loves it,” he answered.
She didn’t confirm it… or contradict him.
“Tell him,” he insisted.
She remained mute other than her squeaks, and Alan was too far along to make an issue of it. He just continued to saw his prick into her ass, jolting her along as if she were riding in back of a pickup on a dirt road.
He let out a triumphant “whoop!” He was nearly balls deep in her ass, and shuddering, obviously filling her rectum with his jism.
He released her hair, and her head lulled down to her chest. When he pulled out, she slumped, limp onto the sofa.
“Can we go now?” I asked.
“You go. She stays.”
Our eyes locked. What else was there to say? Nothing had changed. I was still facing jail if I crossed him, and as long as Lana was resigned to being “realistic,” I didn’t have a leg to stand on. I rose.
“Wait,” he said. “Look at this.”
I glanced down. He was spreading her ass cheeks. A thick stream of come was leaking out of her battered asshole and down to her red, swollen pussy.
“Fuck you,” I hissed.
He stroked his cock. “I’ll be fucking something all right.”
I left.
IV.
I needed to make sense of things, but I wasn’t thinking clearly on my way home. Or really “thinking” at all. I was in that mental space where it is impossible to hold on to any one thought for more than a fleeting second. Impossible to develop a train of thought, or indeed, even remember from one moment to the next what I was thinking.
What was I going to do about Alan? But before I could begin to answer, the image of him fucking my wife’s face scattered my brain. How was I doing to pay him back? The sight of her ass obscenely stretched around his fat prick. How had he found me out? Him sucking on her tits as she rode him. Would Lana ever forgive me? The sensation of her wet pussy at the dinner table. Should I be angry at her? His come dripping from her ass.
I gave up. Home, I popped an Ambien. I washed it down with a pour of scotch. A mistake because it just made my mind even more undisciplined and added a disturbing, surreal edge to my vision, so that she wasn’t just fucking him, but she was laughing, giddy and half-insane, and screaming his name, and taunting me with his prowess.
~~~
A text woke me up.
[Alan] Meet for brunch and an update
I showered and dressed and went to the hotel. I found him in the restaurant digging into a massive omelet.
He looked up at me. “Fucking your wife builds up an appetite,” he said, almost loud enough to be overheard.
I sat down quickly to quiet him.
“Where is she?”
“She’s in good hands,” he replied.
“What’s that mean?”
He smirked. He’d passed her off to another man.
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
He laughed. “The deal is, she spreads her legs, and you stay out of jail…. Though in this case, she was spreading her ass cheeks, but the idea is the same.”
“Who?” I demanded.
He shrugged. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. What difference does it make?”
He was right. It wasn’t as if there were any man I would be hap
py about having sex with my wife.
“Anyway,” he continued. “She’s taking to this like a duck to water… you know, if by duck we mean whore and water cock.”
I wanted to deny it, but it was hard. She hadn’t seemed to love being assfucked, but she hadn’t fought back either, and when she was riding his cock, she definitely seemed to be making the best of it.
“What do you want?”
“Just to see your face when I tell you I fucked your wife six times last night and that I plan to drop at least as many loads in her again today…. Also, you should bring her a set of clothes when you pick her up tomorrow, unless you want her coming home in her slut outfit covered in come stains.”
I wanted to say something, but I didn’t have a good comeback. I stood up.
“Bye bye,” he chimed mockingly.
I stalked back to my car in the parking garage and sat behind the wheel. I was too shaky to drive as I processed our conversation.
Who was he sharing her with? It didn’t matter, but it did. What if it was someone from work? I stopped myself and took a deep breath. I peered over at my suit jacket, still on the passenger seat where I’d left it last night. Peeking out of the inside pocket was the sheet of paper that had changed my life. I pulled it out.
I peered at the bank statement. I looked at the date. Just a few days ago. $233,876 in a dollar denominated account at the RCB Bank in Cyprus. How had he gotten that? It was folded into thirds, but the crease was not tight. It hadn’t been mailed. It wasn’t a fax and there was no discoloration to suggest it was an image file. Indeed, it looked just like the statement I might have printed off my own computer.
I froze and then looked down at the lower right corner. And there I saw it, a thin line, maybe an inch and a half long, horizontal about a third of the way from the bottom. I almost didn’t see it since it was where the paper had been folded, but once I spotted it, I couldn’t unsee it because I’d seen it before. Many times. For the last six weeks, it had appeared on everything I printed on my laser printer at home.
Best Hotwife Erotica Vol.3: Caught! Page 18