I was just getting to a message where Ben mentioned to Izzie that he would be in the DC area soon, to meet with a publication that wanted to do a special feature on his work, when my phone buzzed again, to signal another text message.
My heart rate picked up decidedly as I drew the thing out of my pocket. Silently, I prayed for another picture from Marie.
Surprisingly, however, the text was from Izzie herself.
>Hey sweetie, you home from work yet? I’m out having a great time with Marie xxx
I replied:
>Home not so late tonight, thankfully. Hope you’re enjoying all those Navy guys ;-)
I could at least tell her I’d found her clues.
She replied:
>They’re all very polite! Lot of fun, though ;-)
Winking emoticon. Here we were, and she was just about to sleep with (I hoped) the first man other than myself since we’d started dating, and we could only really use winking emoticons with each other. I wanted to come straight out and tell her if she wanted to spend the night with someone, it was fine with me. But I didn’t want to remind her I was waiting on her, I didn’t want to put any pressure on her. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to pry information from her.
So we signed off —
>Have fun, sweetie, love you xx
>Love you too, sweetie, you’re the best! Xxx
And that was it.
I went back to checking out Facebook, and how excited Izzie had apparently been that Ben was dropping by the DC area in the next few weeks.
Ben: We could see each other… you know… for old time’s sake.
Izzie: I’d love that.
Ben: You could… get away from your husband for a while?
Izzie: He’s a busy guy. We could find some time.
God, Marie had been right about Izzie wanting an ex. However, further investigation was cut short by Marie sending me a furtively caught phone camera picture of Izzie in the arms of a Navy man, apparently doing her best to suck his face off.
It could have been her dance partner from before, I wasn’t able to see enough of him.
Well, I’d seen Izzie kissing some other guy the last time she’d been out with Marie. Didn’t mean anything else would happen. This time, though, I was 45 minutes to an hour away. I was more nervous than ever.
Marie sent me a text message:
>Just so you know, they’re talking about going to find a hotel somewhere.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
I felt like someone was squeezing my insides, trying to keep me from breathing properly. And yet I was aroused like you wouldn’t believe.
I texted Marie:
>You think she’s okay? She’s safe with him?
Marie replied:
>Seems like a nice guy. Wish he wanted to take me somewhere.
I replied:
>I thought this was supposed to be about Izzie taking you out to get you someone?
Marie said:
>You don’t get it. What Izzie and you have it way too interesting for my relationship troubles to get in the way.
It was typical Marie. Typical journalist, I would say. You catch a whiff of an interesting story, you want to see how it runs — and everything else can pale into insignificance. Marie had front row seats on a weird and wonderful soap opera, and she had no idea how it would all turn out.
I sent Marie another text asking her to keep me informed, then moved myself upstairs. She didn’t send through anything else for a while, so I took a cold shower and got ready for bed.
Then, finally, as I lay back attempting to watch North by Northwest on TV, I received an email into my phone from Marie, attached to which was a short video clip. I opened it up on my phone.
It wasn’t long. It showed a pleasant Annapolis street in the darkness, with streetlamp highlighting old brick buildings and curbside trees, an old church in the background. There was a fairly striking-looking black guy in naval uniform stepping out of the entrance to a large building or hall, hailing a taxi. Then the clip jumped to the same guy opening the door of a taxi, for Izzie to climb inside. Then he joined her, and off drove the taxi.
I was shaking a little as I watched it over and over. My wife had gone to a hotel with another man.
Marie sent me a text message:
>So that’s it from Annapolis. I guess you’ll see your wife some time tomorrow. You still okay about all this, hon?
Okay, so the anxiety levels I hadn’t entirely expected, but so long as I thought about how much Izzie and I had talked about all this, and how damned turned on I was, I could just about calm myself down.
I felt kind of numb, but not in an entirely bad way, if that makes sense.
I texted back to Marie:
>Very pleased. You didn’t have any luck yourself with a nice young Navy guy?
Marie replied:
>Not this time. I can wait. You need me to go stake out her hotel? Or can I head home now?
I got the feeling Marie was tired and preferred to head home. Even though Izzie was in the company of a stranger, I felt reassured enough that she knew what she was doing, she could handle herself. She and Marie used to do this when they were in college, and now Izzie was older and wiser.
I replied:
>You can head home. But you could remind her to let me have some clues as to what’s going on.
>Will do.
And that was it from Marie for the night. It wasn’t it for me. I was well past the point when I’d be able to sleep. I just lay there, exhausted but awake, in a kind of purgatory watching late night movies as I waited for something from Izzie. And my mind could hardly concentrate on movies while I thought about what Izzie might be getting up to in Annapolis.
The trouble was, even if Marie persuaded my wife to let me have a clue or two, I wouldn’t necessarily know where to find the clue. This Game of ours was a little frustrating.
At some point past 2am, Izzie’s “Find My iPhone” application was activated. Zooming in on the map showed her to be at a Westin hotel a short way away from the Academy. A nice place.
Ten minutes or so later, my phone buzzed as something came in from Izzie.
Another shock, as it turned out to be a selfie, showing Izzie with her new guy. He was standing behind her, and had clearly taken off his jacket. They kind of looked like a couple, but I think if the picture ever leaked out, you could probably just about argue that this was simply Izzie taking a selfie with a fan, someone who knew her from her occasional TV appearances — it did happen occasionally.
Still. I knew what it really was. This was the man who was about to sleep with my wife. He had a nice smile, I had to admit. Izzie looked delighted — and so beautiful. I guess she might have seemed more desirable to me because she was about to sleep with someone else.
Wow. I felt out of breath, just sitting there staring at my phone. I stood up, and it felt as though my stomach remained where it was, dropping as I stood. I was giddy, my head was whirling.
Frankly, I was terrified. But at the same time, it was the biggest rush I could remember.
My wife was about to lose her infidelity virginity. I’d wanted to see it happen, of course, but I knew how awkward she could be with me regarding sex. I also realized how strange it had to be for her, to have a husband who loved her so much, and yet fantasized about her seeing other guys. There were plenty of barriers to her doing this. If she had to take the first steps on her own, in privacy, then I’d far rather it happened, even if I couldn’t watch, than for it not to happen at all.
I flopped down on the bed, gazing at that picture, and felt just how hard my cock was from thinking about what was going on over in Annapolis. I might not get to watch this monumental thing happening, but my imagination could fill in the gaps.
I thought of them together, naked, writhing on a bed — touching, kissing, caressing, licking. Fucking. Their flesh glistening with perspiration — his smooth dark skin contrasting with her soft pale body, a man so different from her hus
band. Izzie opening herself up to him, her man overpowering her, overwhelming her, muscles tensing as he took her.
I thought of Izzie marveling over the size of his cock, toying with it, experiencing it, taking it inside her mouth, her wet pussy.
I thought of her screaming and whimpering as he filled her, as he stretched her, as he fucked her hard.
I touched myself — sure, how could I resist? But when I came to the end, I stopped before I came. It wasn’t that I was tired, or that the idea of Izzie sleeping with her military man wasn’t still highly arousing to me — no, suddenly the fear hit me.
What if Izzie had such good sex with another man that she wouldn’t want it when she came back to me? What if she decided sex with her new lover was so good, it wasn’t even worth staying married to me any more? What if she decided I was a freak for allowing this, for encouraging this — and she didn’t want to risk being married to a freak?
What if she fell head over heels for her new lover — accidentally, completely unexpectedly, with no intention of ever doing so, but unavoidably and incontrovertibly, something that she just could not do anything about other than leave me?
For a while, I lay there feeling some kind of panic attack wash over me. It’s hard to describe exactly hot it was — I felt hot and cold flushes, I felt the room spinning around me, I felt nausea in my stomach.
I breathed deeply, slowly, trying to calm myself down. When I thought about what I was going through, what I was feeling, the main thing seemed to me that I had a completely lack of control over everything. It was a rush, it was still exciting, but I felt a sudden paranoid fear that I was suddenly falling headlong — that I’d get badly hurt, and there was nothing I could do to avoid it.
It was like bungee jumping over and over, feeling the rush as I faced the risk — only after a while, somebody cuts the bungee cord loose, and I plunge headlong into the abyss.
I had to force myself to think about how much Izzie and I loved each other, and about how much I trusted her. I had to stare at my wedding ring and remember the commitment we’d promised each other, the seriousness of our bond.
I’m not sure how long my attack lasted, but eventually I seemed to bring it under control. I felt myself warming up inside, remembering just why I’d wanted this in the first place.
My beautiful wife was having a wonderful experience, a host of fun, and then she’d come back to me refreshed and content. My Izzie was being naughty and breaking convention, she was living out a fantasy and doing something she’d always believed was closed off to her now she was married.
My sweetheart was living life, and I was the one making it possible for her. Why would she give up the possibility of enjoying as many men as she wanted for the rest of her life, and the support of a loving husband, to commit to one man she barely knew, who merely gave her good sex for a night?
Logic was my friend, I could reason out the truth that I was not going to lose Izzie, no matter how good the sex with this new man.
I slipped off to sleep for a while after that, exhausted.
When I woke again, it was 4am, and I was suddenly very awake again, unable to even contemplate going back to sleep. I had a feeling that Izzie had done something, that we had graduated to the next step in this Game of ours. And feeling that certainty turned me on no end.
It was almost a relief that I felt turned on, not angry or sick or horrified.
Now, I felt a strong need for confirmation. I wanted to text Izzie, ask her if it happened. I even picked up my phone and tried to tap out a message. It just felt wrong. Awkward. This was not us. This was not me. The reason we were playing the Game was because we found it so difficult to communicate directly about this stuff.
I would have to wait for clues, wait for evidence.
Chapter Nine
I could wait only so long.
Watching Netflix movies at 4am, 5am, was hardly easy when my wife was somewhere lying in another man’s bed. Maybe she wasn’t sleeping at all, just having constant sex.
I needed confirmation she was safe. I needed evidence that she’d actually done it, that she had been faithfully unfaithful.
I jumped back onto our desktop computer and looked up Izzie’s Facebook page, as though I’d find anything there, and her email account. Then I remembered to check the site where I could see the text messages sent and received from her phone.
And here was something.
At 2.37, Izzie had sent Marie the very same selfie she’d sent me, of herself standing with her Navy man, in the hotel room. Marie had texted back almost immediately:
>Very nice. Now go enjoy! And as soon as something happens, I want to know about it. And know that I’m gonna bug you until you tell me EVERYTHING! Lol :-)
I felt envious of Marie being able to order my wife to tell her everything. But my guess was that if I’d made any demand for Izzie to tell me everything about any guy she slept with, she would never sleep with any other guy. I had to take what I could get. In this case, I could eavesdrop Izzie and Marie’s text messages.
At about 3.45am, Izzie sent another text message to her BFF. And it was quite clear that although I had slumped into sleep, Marie had been on the edge of her seat waiting for news from her friend.
Izzie: He’s asleep now. How about you, Marie? Did you end up with that Lieutenant guy?
Marie: No, he turned out to be a loser. Never mind me. WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOU?
Izzie: It was… nice ;-)
Of course, my eyes did not stop moving at that point, I didn’t stop reading the text conversation. But my heart nearly stopped, my cock was so erect it was very nearly painfully so.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.
I was fortunate I had Marie there to coax more information out of her, though.
Marie: Okay, so spill. You know I’ll get what I want eventually, so DETAILS PLEASE.
Izzie: What do you want to know? He’s a very nice guy, and we had a very nice time at the ball, and then when we got to this hotel, we had a really lovely time together ;-)
Izzie was teasing her friend, but at the same time she was driving me crazy.
Marie: Are you kidding me? Back in college you used to tell me everything, down to how big his cock was, how many times he slammed it into you, and in what position. So what happened to you, girl?
Izzie: I’m a married woman now :-)
Marie: But I’m not your husband, I don’t have a fantasy that means I can get by with hints and suggestions of what you get up to. Besides, you owe me for taking you to Annapolis!
Izzie: What do you want to know?
Marie: What did you do? Did you go all the way with him? What was he like??!!
Izzie: He’s like ten years younger than me. Very fit, gorgeous when we’d gotten his uniform off. Heavenly.
Marie: So what did you do?
Izzie: Just… you know… lots of kissing and touching. Lots of talking, too.
Marie: Talking, talking. Did you SLEEP with him?
Izzie: He’s sleeping now, didn’t I tell you? ;-)
Marie: Do I need to spell out my questions? Did he put his HEAVENLY penis in your va-doo-da?
Izzie: Almost.
Marie: ALMOST?!!
I’m not going to lie, I was a touch disappointed at this point. I felt for Marie. I felt for the guy with whom Izzie had spent the night.
Izzie: We did pretty much everything but.
Well, there was some reward. My heart rate picked up again, my softening cock thickened once again. Izzie might not have quite gone all the way with her new lover, but I could picture her lying with him, embracing his naked form, kissing him, taking him in her mouth.
Marie: Was he big?
Izzie: Fairly.
Marie: What does that mean?
Izzie: He had a nice one.
Marie: So not huge.
Izzie I enjoyed it.
I thought of that selfie she’d sent me, and had visions of her enjoying the guy’s cock. It was good enough for me for now.
Izzie: He wanted different things out of this.
Marie: Different things?
Izzie: He wanted to see me again.
Marie: Doesn’t sound so bad.
Izzie: He also wanted to introduce me to his friends, his parents, and he wanted me to divorce my husband.
Marie: Ah.
Izzie: He’s a sweetheart, he said such lovely things about me. But then he just went too far.
Marie: Young guys sometimes do
Izzie: We had a nice time, but I said maybe he’d feel bad if we went all the way, and then I have to leave in the morning.
Marie: So you’re going home right now?
Izzie: I’ll probably wait until he wakes up. Maybe see if he wants a final… you know…
Marie: No, I don’t know, because you’re NOT TELLING ME. Fume.
That was the end of their text conversation. Despite the limitations on Izzie’s night, at least I had the warmth inside from knowing my Izzie had misbehaved to some degree. She’d gone part of the way, and it seemed a good step toward going all the way with someone.
I savored over that text message exchange, reading it and re-reading it and re-reading it again. More and more, I was thrilled by the situation. Izzie really had gone out there and had fun with another guy. Too bad he’d turned into too much of a romantic, but you couldn’t have anything. And I was pleased by the way Izzie had reacted to that: what if she’d fallen for him, and had started lapping up his adulation, and she could even have gone for his meet-the-parents long-term relationship plans. But she hadn’t. She’d wanted a fun night, and she’d wanted no-strings sex.
I was rock-hard reading over those words from Izzie.
Then, finally, I heard her taxi pulling up outside our house.
Chapter Ten
The Game (A Hotwife Adventure) Page 8