The Game (A Hotwife Adventure)

by Max Sebastian

  I enjoyed watching him flirting with Izzie — and how she flirted with him. For my wife, there was a lot of smiling, a lot of stroking of her hair, the occasional surreptitious touch about her cleavage as though attempting to point his eyes to the prize. Mason was a little more subtle, but the way he carried himself, almost puffed up with pride, as he talked about his kickboxing, and so on — and the way his eyes feasted over Izzie — made me feel a little buzz of excitement.

  That my beautiful wife would have her way with him. That he would physically dominate her, overwhelming her pixyish form.

  So, while I did have a good time with Marie — and she did look very attractive — it was difficult for me to play this date quite as I probably should have.

  And then once our entrees were out of the way, the women excused themselves to pay a visit to the restroom, leaving me in the sole custody of my wife’s new date.

  Now I felt intimidated.

  But Mason did have quite an ability to make me feel at ease. He gave me a warm smile and said, “I’ve never been on a double date before.”

  “Me neither,” I said, offering him a smile in return. “I kind of thought it was something that went out in the seventies.”

  He laughed. “So what’re you supposed to do on a double date?”

  “Not sure.”

  “Is it like some kind of competition?”

  “Might be. I never really thought about it.”

  “I guess I’m just competitively-minded,” he said. “We’re both on first dates, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” I said.

  “So what, the winner is the one who scores first?”

  “I guess so.” I had visions of Mason making out with my wife after yoga class. In his little competition, he already had a head start — just as he probably had a head start in his kickboxing matches, since he was so powerful a guy.

  “You think you can beat me?” he cracked another smile, and it was hard to tell entirely whether he was serious or not.

  “I doubt it,” I said, and my honesty only made him laugh more, though in a kind-hearted manner. “I think you’ve got a good chance with Izzie,” I told him. “From the way she looks at you.”

  “You just have to be a little more forward with Marie.”

  “They’re in there talking about us, aren’t they?” I asked him.

  “Of course. That’s the way it works, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not sure Marie is really looking for anything… you know… serious. Tonight, I mean,” I said, trying to downplay expectations.

  “Hey, I’ll suggest a dance club I know — it’s not far from here. You’ll have her grinding up against you before you know it.”

  Izzie and Marie returned from the bathroom giggling like schoolgirls, and I tried looking at Izzie to see if she might give anything away about what they had been saying to each other. I wasn’t getting any help from her, though.

  She wasn’t at the point of warning me off from Marie, though.

  Our next stop was a bar nearby, where a few more drinks helped warm up the conversation a little. It seemed quite clear that Mason was getting on with Izzie like a house on fire, but things between Marie and I were stuck in limbo land. I’m not sure — it was just awkward for me, because Marie was Izzie’s best friend, and I’d seen her in a certain light for as long as I’d known her. Like a little sister, almost, or perhaps a mischievous cousin.

  After the bar, Mason made his suggestion to go to the dance club he knew, and the clincher was the fact the place was walkable from where we were.

  On our way over there, I ended up walking with Izzie behind Marie and Mason.

  “So how’re you doing?” I asked her.

  “I am doing great,” she said. “But you are not really trying so hard with Marie, huh?”

  I felt a little aggrieved — what was I supposed to do? Pull her into a kiss right there at the dinner table?

  But then Izzie added, “You have to spend a little less time watching me, and a little more time picking up Marie’s signals, you know that?”

  The way she said it, the way she looked, I could tell Izzie was quietly pleased that I had spent too much time watching her.

  “I did warn you,” I said. “I’m in this because I want to see how much fun you get out of dating, not because I want to date someone else myself.”

  Izzie smiled warmly, and linked her arm in mine affectionately. “But she’s giving you all these signals, sweetie!”

  “She’s your BFF. You don’t think it would get a bit weird in future — you know, if this doesn’t work out? Even if it does work out…”

  “You don’t know her the way I do,” Izzie said. “And anyway, she already knows enough about our weird dating arrangements. I don’t think she’d feel any weirder about me — or you.”

  I wondered what Mason was saying to Marie all the way there. He wasn’t making any attempt to switch with me, to walk with Izzie. I guess he was pacing himself, not appearing too desperate to impress his date. Being sociable. All those things I had no idea about.

  We got to the dance club, dropped our coats with the cloak room guy, and after one last drink, it was time to find some space on the dance floor. It was a busy place, a basement club with thumping dance music that had couples dancing close, but not slow like some ballroom ballad. It was sweaty in there. It almost felt as though people were making love on the dance floor, rather than just moving to the music.

  Izzie grabbed Mason, and was soon matching the people around her. Marie ended up grabbing me. I felt a little sorry for her — she was getting the raw end of this double date.

  Izzie and Mason were quite the sight. The way they moved together, the way they held each other, the way they touched. The grinding. It made my heart leap up and down, it made it difficult for me to breathe.

  The word exciting hardly seemed to do the whole thing justice. This had been what I’d always wanted for Izzie — to have such an incredible experience, to make the most of her sexuality, her beauty. To embrace being alive.

  I hate to admit it, but I almost forgot I was dancing with Marie. I just fell into a kind of autopilot.

  Marie leaned up on tip-toes to say in my ear, “They’re good together, aren’t they?”

  I nodded.

  “How does it feel watching them?” she asked me.

  “Pretty incredible,” I said, talking into her ear so she could hear me over the music.

  “I can tell…” she smiled. “You seem a little absorbed by it.”

  Marie turned her back to me, and began to dance like that, close to me, I thought so that she could see where I was looking more easily, she could see Izzie and Mason.

  Then I realized she was pressing her behind against me — against my hard cock.

  “Wow,” she said, leaning back into me, then pulled my head down so she could talk in my ear, “You really are into it, aren’t you? It really does get you going.”

  I don’t think Marie was annoyed about it. It seemed to me she thought I had every right to be more interested in my wife.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. Bellowed, more like it, the way that music was. “You probably would have had more fun with your guy from CNN.”

  She only smiled. “I’m having lots of fun,” she said, and started pushing back against my hardness once again. “Hey, you want to try something?”

  “Sure.”

  As we danced, the pretty brunette reached back to grab my hands, bring them forward, and place them firmly onto her breasts.

  “Make her jealous!” Marie said, beaming as she held my hands there on her soft, pleasantly round breasts.

  For a moment, I wasn’t so sure. And then we saw Izzie glance our way, then react with clear surprise at what she saw. Well, wasn’t this what she’d wanted? She’d told me I hadn’t been picking up on Marie’s signals.

  As my wife watched, I danced with Marie, pulling her against me, fondling her breasts as we moved. Marie leaned her head back against my shoulder as thou
gh in sexual ecstasy. Izzie nodded at me, attempting to show that she was impressed at me, but I caught something else in her expression. I don’t think she was entirely comfortable with me doing that with Marie.

  Marie turned to me, leaned into my ear, and said, “Run your hand over my butt.”

  I did as she asked, and we were grinding together. I was hard, and it wasn’t only from watching Izzie with Mason. I couldn’t quite see how Izzie reacted to that. She was all over her date, pushing up against him more than she had before. It suddenly made me feel as though I could get Izzie to be more and more forward with Mason by being more and more forward with Marie.

  Marie turned again, pushing her back against me, her butt against my hard cock once again. My hands were on my breasts, and now I was thrusting my cock against her, my fingers finding their way under her dress, into her bra.

  Mason saw us, and gave me a wink.

  Izzie looked less impressed, but then launched herself on her date, pulling him into a long, full-on kiss.

  I was just awestruck. It was a strange thing — I’d seen my wife do all kinds of wicked things with a few different guys up to that point, but somehow watching her kissing Mason tweaked the jealousy more than anything I’d seen. I don’t know if it was because she’d known him — and fantasized about him, flirted with him — for a while before taking the decision to actually date him. Or because out of all of her dates thus far, Mason seemed like the nicest guy, the guy I’d want my sweet wife to date if I was a neutral party wanting what was best for Izzie.

  Mentally, I knew he wasn’t a threat to our marriage, but watching them together on that dance floor, suddenly he seemed like the biggest threat to our marriage.

  But the thing was, that feeling of being threatened, of danger, of jealousy — while it seemed to suck all the air out of me, while squeezing my heart so tight I was risking cardiac arrest, it also stoked up my arousal to similar proportions, almost as though my body was trying to counteract the negativity.

  It was shocking, it was so entrancing. And as I watched, I completely lost track of myself — it was almost like an out-of-body experience.

  I have no idea how long it lasted. A while. A long while. When the two of them finally came up for air, and the spell was broken sufficiently for me to realize where I was, what I was doing, I found Marie grinding up against me, writhing, moaning, with one of my hands cupping a breast under her dress, my thumb tucked inside her bra to stroke her hard nipple, while my other hand was lodged between her thighs — again, under her dress — stroking her through her decidedly wet panties.

  I’d been watching my wife, and acting out my need to touch her by doing it with Marie.

  Startled by such intimacy, I pulled my hands away from her, as the focus of my gaze now pulled herself back from Mason. Marie, though, whirled on her feet, and facing me, pulled my head down before crushing my lips with hers.

  Wow.

  Marie was a good kisser. I’ve always been a believer in chemistry — in my experience, you either have it or you don’t. You might find some women attractive, desirable, interesting, funny, whatever. But that doesn’t mean you automatically have chemistry with her, and I’d dated women before Izzie with whom I’d shared no chemistry whatsoever, and even the pretty ones had meant nothing to me after a kiss where there was no spark, no buzz.

  With Marie, I was a little surprised to find there was chemistry. Lots of it. It was kind of shocking, actually. For someone who had always been there, as Izzie’s best friend, and always been so off-limits I’d viewed her almost as a relative instead of a friend, it was jaw-dropping.

  Pressing against me, she was so sweet, so warm, so sexy. Her lips were so soft, her body so hot up against me, my hands slipping up under her dress to hold her pert behind as she gently stroked herself up against my hard cock.

  I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to her. I was supposed to be all about my wife, all about Izzie, all about watching my beloved misbehaving with other guys.

  Both Marie and I looked at each other with wide eyes and open mouths, dumbstruck, when at last that kiss was over.

  Did I want to take her home with me? Of course. And Izzie couldn’t have been mad at me for feeling that way, because she had shoved the two of us together, and had even been put out earlier in the evening that I apparently hadn’t been making the effort with Marie.

  Now, though, as my gaze drifted inevitably across the dance floor to where my wife was standing with her new date, I saw that Izzie appeared to be somewhat horrified by what was going on. It was only for a moment or two, and she hid it well from Mason, but to me it was unmistakable.

  Marie took a step back and mouthed the word “wow” at me as she continued to gaze at me in some kind of wonder.

  Then without me even noticing her weaving her way through the other people on the dance floor, suddenly Izzie was right there, grasping her best friend by the hand before leading her away — presumably to the restroom.

  I watched them go for a minute, stunned, before I felt a big hand pat me gently on the shoulder, and Mason was there, flicking his head toward the bar.

  I followed his lead, and allowed him to buy the drinks — he was served almost immediately, I noticed, which kinda figured.

  “Doing well, doing well,” he said, clinking his chilled beer bottle against mine, that broad smile showing plenty of perfect white teeth.

  “I suppose so,” I said, or shouted to be heard over the music.

  “Might even agree you were a touch ahead of me by now,” he said, reminding me of his competition theory concerning double dates.

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  He nodded, but could have been just moving his head to the music a little. “I’d say you’ve closed the deal, though,” he said.

  “You think?”

  I felt myself blush furiously, which seemed faintly ridiculous, but in the uneven light of the dance club, I don’t think anyone was going to notice. I was a little horrified, all of a sudden. I mean, sure, underneath there was that warm, creamy, sugary feeling I hadn’t really felt since starting to date Izzie — the sense that I was successful in getting the girl. But it also made me feel a strange loss of control, as though I was getting caught up in an undertow, a current that could drag me God knew where, and might even drown me if I wasn’t careful.

  He said, “They’re in the restroom, and my date is telling your date to make sure she has protection before she takes you home.”

  I felt a jolt of shock at that, and how confident he seemed to be in making his assessment of the situation.

  I don’t know. Somehow the idea of successfully hooking up with Marie — or any other woman who wasn’t my wife, I would say — suddenly seemed disturbing. I could deal with the idea of Izzie going with other guys, but it felt to me that if I went with Marie, it would undermine the remaining support for my marriage. Somehow, I’d been keeping a firm handle on my relationship with Izzie, but if this whole thing transpired, perhaps I would be distracted, or Izzie would start to think differently about our relationship, and she would feel more comfortable giving more of herself to Mason.

  Ultimately, it was a loss of control thing. Making out with Marie made me feel just too helpless in the face of the feelings it provoked in me.

  The tension in me — as those feelings of doubt ran up against the powerful arousal I had after kissing and touching such a beautiful woman as Marie — was substantial.

  “Trust me,” Mason said. “They’ll come back out, and she’s going to drag you right out of here.

  And then we saw the two women returning, threading their way through the packed dance club toward us. My heart was threatening to hammer its way out of my chest cavity.

  Izzie glanced at me as they approached, and for the first time in a long time, I really couldn’t read her. What did she want from me? What was she expecting? She almost seemed impressed at me, and yet at the same time there was more than a hint of disapproval in her eyes.

 
“Back to it, huh?” Mason smiled, heaving a sigh as though he were being called back to some tedious hard work.

  I nodded and smiled as my wife took him by the hand and dragged him back to the dance floor leaving me with Marie. She looked like a cute, vulnerable bunny rabbit, somehow, not quite sure what was going on.

  Was she about to ask me to take her home?

  “Shall we?” I nodded toward the dance floor, attempting to delay, and distract from a decision I didn’t feel comfortable making because I wasn’t in receipt of all the facts.

  Marie seemed a trifle relieved at my suggestion, too. We followed Izzie and Mason onto the dance floor, although as before, stood a little distance away from them as if concerned they might overhear our conversation.

  This time, we weren’t grinding up against each other. Marie put her arms up over my shoulders, clasping her hands together behind my neck, and we moved as if the music were coming from a gentle string quartet rather than a pumping dance hall DJ.

  “I wasn’t really expecting that,” she said, leaning up to my ear so I could hear her over the thumping beat.

  “Me neither,” I agreed.

  “I was just going to fool around with you a little, and… you know… let you watch Izzie getting it on with her date.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She smiled sweetly as she gazed into my eyes, showing real desire, real affection. But also a strong dose of something that seemed like regret.

  I didn’t really know what to say.

  Marie said, “Izzie wants me to take you home with me.”

  I felt my cock thicken, despite my reservations. Yet I also felt the hot stab of astonishment and consternation at what she said.

  “She said that?” I asked.

  Marie nodded. “She even told me to make sure I had protection.”

  I was almost amused by how correct Mason had been in predicting what the women had been talking about in the restroom.

  “Wow,” I said.

  “Right?”

  We swayed slowly together a moment or two, as though dancing, though our movement bore little relation to the music.

  Then Marie said, “Do you want to get a drink and… I don’t know… go somewhere we can talk?”