The Hotwife Game
By Camille White
Copyright 2016
I was trembling as I walked down the street. I had butterflies in my stomach, the whole bit. I’d been in Berlin on business for the past four days, and I hardly knew my way around. Walking down the street at night, young hipsters buzzing down the street past me, their laughing sounded distant as they fell across each other, cackling at some joke I felt sure they wouldn’t remember in the morning. I had been alone in a city before, but never like this.
I tried to be cool, to walk with confidence, exuding sophistication and if I could manage it, sex. I stumbled on my stiletto and fell into a man who caught me. He said something in German and smiled.
I was having some serious regrets, but a deal is a deal. It’s amazing what you’re willing to do when you are in the safety of a place where no one knows you. I at least had anonymity on my side.
Just a few years ago, I would never have dreamed of something like this. Not in a million years. Our lives together were happy, and we had the life that we both wanted: opportunities at work, six figures, regular-enough four-minute missionary sex, Jamie Oliver’s delicious roast chicken recipe (lemons!) once a week. We had stability. Life was good. It’s kind of what I’d always wanted.
Now here I am, standing out the front of a tiny Berlin bar in a much-too-short dress with no panties on. If you’re thinking that doesn’t sound too outrageous, what happened next may change your mind.
My stomach twisting in knots, I took my phone out of my purse and opened WhatsApp.
Me: I am out the front.
A couple of moments later my phone vibrated and my husband wrote back.
Tim: And…
Tim: Are you ready? How r you feeling?
The truth was, I was feeling a bit sick. This was something so far beyond what we had done in the past. I mean, we’d joked about all kinds of stuff, and Tim had talked to me about being turned on by this kind of thing, but this was a pretty fucking big step. It’s true that we both found the idea a turn on, but that’s probably where it maybe should have ended. If we hadn’t started playing this game, that is.
Me. Lol, really nervous.
Tim: It’ll be ok, my dear.
Tim: Are you on the street? Are there people around?
Me. Yes. Lots.
Tim: Are you wearing anything under your dress?
Me. A deal is a deal, Timothy.
Tim: Good girl.
Tim: Be discrete, but I want you to lick your finger and touch yourself.
Me: On the street?
Tim: Do as you’re told. : )
Me: Outrageous!!
It is probably worth explaining that I had agreed on this night to be his. To do as he said. We had been playing a game where we set each other challenges, taking it in turns. When we first started doing this, being a reasonably normal (read: conservative) married couple, the game started really slow. We’re not prudes, but, well, I’m pretty shy and we were both pretty inexperienced when we got married. It’s been a slow road into opening up our sexuality, though recently things have amped up a bit. A lot.
About five months ago when we started really delving, the challenges were pretty basic. We traded secrets, shared the more acceptable of our fantasies, that sort of thing. We would whisper dirty things in each other’s ears when we were out with friends, touch each other under the table in restaurants. Things that wouldn’t make a nun blush, actually.
The thing about a game like that is although it starts innocently enough but it’s deceptive; it’s delicious, intimate trickery. Make no mistake – this game is dangerous in more ways than one. The challenges escalate before you know it, and the game quickly becomes like a drug. A dare. It didn’t take long before we felt a chemistry between us that we hadn’t felt before, this chemistry that comes from sharing a part of yourself that you never thought anyone would care to know, or that you would dare breathe out loud.
We were alive to each other in ways that felt thrilling. It was never planned, but our marriage had become more like a dangerous game of chicken. We actually loved it.
I looked around the crowded Kreuzberg street, acting like I was waiting to meet someone, and quickly slipped my hand from beside my leg and in between my slightly parted thighs. At that moment, my eyes locked with a young and impressed coiffured hipster who happened to wryly smile at me as he walked past. My heart thumped.
I fired off a message back to HQ in London.
Me: I think a hipster just saw me.
Tim: Hot! I bet you made his night.
Me: Alright M, awaiting further instructions. What now?
I already knew what now. Or at least I thought I did. I really hoped I was wrong. Turned out I wasn’t.
Tim: You’ve earned yourself a drink.
_______
I was sitting in the study. The light of the computer screen was all there was. I remember it was like astral projection. I was there. I could picture her. Wearing that fabulous black dress. On that street. I knew she would have followed her instructions to the letter – she is nothing if not diligent.
No room for modesty.
Dressed as a finely honed instrument of pleasure.
Her lips, painted deep red. The computer room faded away. With just the dim glow of the monitor, each message that appeared on the screen transported me into the scene. It was so fucking intense. My whole body was tingling. I took a sip of my drink, my head swimming.
Me: What’s going on?
Me: Baby?
There was no answer. Any silence killed me. I sat and waited. I absent-mindedly scrolled through Tumblr.
Then, ping.
Erica: Sorry, just getting a drink. It’s pretty quiet. There are only a few guys here. There’s a woman behind the bar.
Me: What are the guys like?
Erica: Uh, there’s not much to tell. They just seem like guys.
I struggled to picture the situation. I needed more information.
Me: I need more information.
Erica: Ok.
Me: It makes it hard to direct without details.
Erica: Oh, sorry. It’s just there’s not much to tell. It’s just like a normal bar, I guess. There are three guys here. They are sitting at the bar. One is about 30ish, the other about 45. I don’t know. There is an older guy about 70 at the end of the bar. He seems drunk. The bartender is polishing the bottles. Haha. Slow night…
Shit. This didn’t sound like the bar I remembered from when I was there. It used to be full!
Erica: Sorry babe, not too exciting.
Me: Oh.
Me: Where are you sitting?
Erica: In one of the booths.
I had to do something. I felt strangely panicked. This was going off the rails in a terribly boring manner. I regrouped, M didn’t get rattled. He couldn’t afford to. Play the part, doofus! I took a deep breath and regained my composure. I slipped back into character.
Me: Ok, my dear, it’s time for your next task.
There was no answer.
It was time to see how far we were going to go in this game of chicken.
_______
The phone glowed on the table. I couldn’t help a small grin to myself as I read the message. Here we go, I thought.
As I mentioned, it is amazing the things you’ll do in a foreign city. Shame becomes a little more abstract. Only a little, though.
I felt like laughing as I wriggled on the cushioned bench seat a little, and slid my dress up to my thighs. I took a big sip of wine. Dipping my finger in my glass, I sucked the wine off and wet it a little. I slipped it under the table and found my clitoris
, as per my instructions. My body responded so fast. A shallow breath escaped from my lips as I felt how wet I was.
I was immersed in so many feelings. What the fuck was I doing?
With my other hand, I picked up my phone to deliver confirmation.
Glancing up, I noticed the younger of the men at the bar sneaking a look at me from down in his glass. It’s not easy to describe, but I felt his eyes look straight through me. I froze and melted all at once.
He couldn’t have known the secrets beneath the table, but I’m sure he’d felt me somehow. I noticed his face. His lips were full and smooth, and his hair seemed unusually black. My hand continued to work away.
Me: I have my finger inside me, sir.
Tim: That’s a good girl.
Me: and I have some other news…
Tim: Go on.
Me: I just caught one of the men looking at me…
Me: While I had two fingers inside my pussy.
_______
Tim: I want you to keep looking in his direction. If he looks at you, I want you to be looking right at him.
Tim: And don’t you dare stop playing with yourself.
Holy fuck! This was insane. I was losing my fucking mind. My dick nearly burst through my pants in an instant. I felt faint. My hand was actually shaking as I reached for my gin and tonic.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t having major doubts about the direction our marriage had taken at this moment, but I was in too deep. She was in too deep. Literally! Ha. Urgh, I was seriously feeling unwell.
This felt so extreme. So dangerous. As I imagined the situation taking place over there, it almost felt unbelievable.
I couldn’t take it and needed a break. I got up from the desk, awkwardly manoeuvring my boner. I went into the kitchen, then the lounge. I sat on the couch and turned on the TV in a bizarre attempt at finding the right thing to do. I even changed the channel once before realising that was a wholly inappropriate thing to be doing. So back to the kitchen I went. I opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. After downing a glass, I leant over the counter and holding myself up, took a couple of deep breaths. Holy shit! My wife is so fucking hot!
M keeps it cool. He’s got to, or the whole thing falls apart. I walked back to the study and resumed my seat at command central.
I looked at the screen. There was a message.
Erica: He’s coming over!!!
_______
I could see the phone vibrating on the table out of the corner of my eye. Tim was writing to me, but I had become somewhat busy.
The guy had come over. He’d sat down next to me in the booth. He had a dark complexion and his eyes ran deep, black ink. He placed a wine in front of me, ready and waiting for mine to be drained of its last. He said nothing but he had a strength of intention. He leaned into me and glanced down at my exposed pussy. I had a strength too.
I took my hand from below the table and traced my wet finger across his hand as it still rested on the glass. I could smell him. It was strong. Almost too much. I took his wrist, and without saying a word I guided it down to my cunt. I could feel him melt into me as he felt my warmth. He leaned right into my neck.
_______
‘What’s going on?’ I said aloud.
I was hit with a strange dread.
Me: What’s going on babe?
_______
He slid his lips over my neck, I could feel his stubble and the heat on my skin from his breath. Instinctively, I opened my neck up as I stared openly across at the bar, almost as if to invite their gaze. They don’t dare look.
My lips fell slightly apart as his fingers began to find a slow rhythm. I heard a soft moan slip out. I thought it sounded like somebody else. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the cushion of the seat. A fog began to engulf my mind. It felt good to be this bad.
_______
All at once I realised how helpless I was. She was so far away. What was she doing? She must know I’d be going crazy.
I felt like bursting into tears. This was more than I’d bargained for.
Me: Please babe… Update!!!
_______
The phone vibrated again. The dark stranger who had two fingers in me whispered in my ear, ‘Who’s that?’ And without a moment’s hesitation I purred, ‘My husband.’
_______
I just sat there on the office chair in stunned silence. I’d run out of options. Then ping!
Erica: I’ve got my hand on his dick, sweetie. Gotta go!
_______
I did. In one hand I had just typed the message to my now hyperventilating husband, and in the other, I’d liberated this beautiful man’s penis from his trousers, hiding under the shelter of the bar. He felt immense under the table. His fingers moved inside me, and to my surprise, I felt an orgasm rise. I leant my head back, closed my eyes, and I let it consume me.
_______
So I’d taken my pants off in such a furious movement that it may have defied physics. My feelings swung like a pendulum - the negative emotions had been replaced by a torrent of images and visceral eroticism. Once again my mind was transported into that bar I remembered from all those years ago. I even remembered the booth. To think that my beautiful wife was there at this very moment with a stranger’s cock in her hand… and what now? What was she doing?
I was a fly on the wall in that bar, a spectator in this most amazing of situations, but only in my own mind. This thing that we had talked about for so long was finally happening. I could see the colours, I imagined the faces. At that moment, I ceased to be a man standing with his pants around his ankles masturbating in the dark.
I found out later that what I’d imagined happening was actually tame compared to reality. My fantasies were not as hot as reality. This marked the first time in my life that had happened – my sexual inexperience was finally seeing the scales tipped.
_______
When I opened my eyes, I saw one of the other men near standing close by. He was silently watching, completely still and darkened in the shadow. The man who just made me come glances at the other, gesturing him to come closer.
These Germans don’t mess around.
The other man moved down to the bench on the other side of me. My skirt was right up around my waist, my pussy completely exposed. Still, my modesty, such as it was, was protected by the table we were behind. The woman behind the bar was sitting on a stool playing on her phone. That reminded me…
_______
Erica: Sweetie, you prepared for a little update?
Me: !!Yes !!
Erica: I promise you are going to like it… You’ll get it soon.
I was climbing out of my skin. She was toying with me. I couldn’t take much more of this, it was time to stand up to her.
Me: Please, baby!!! I need it. What’s going on?
Then nothing. She disappeared again. I took another anxiety circle-walk around the apartment.
I broke into an actual jog back to the study when I heard the messenger: ping.
Erica: Sorry baby, it’s hard to concentrate while I have this hot dude’s fingers in my pussy.
_______
Tim: No way!? Holy shit!
Tim: Where are you? The bar?!
Me: Still in the booth
I smiled, then put the phone back face down on the table and kissed the black-haired man on the mouth. I could hear the phone vibrate as our tongues locked.
_______
Me: That’s amazing. Just amazing. I’m so turned on I’m losing my mind.
I took my phone with me and lay on the couch with my eyes closed, playing with myself as I tried to picture her, them. The more turned on I was, the harder it became to visualise. I clenched my eyelids shut. The thought of my beautiful wife over there with a strange man… This was the stuff we’d been talking about. I wanted her so badly.
It seemed like an eternity till I heard from her again.
_______
By now, I had the other man sitt
ing next to me. He was older than I’d thought. I’d say 50. He looked like he’d lived hard; greying hair, the thick smell of tobacco. He was rugged and handsome in an unconventional sense.
To be the centre of attention to these two very masculine men was driving me wild. I just felt so dirty; I was loving it. I would have sent an update to Tim, but I now had a cock in each hand under the bar. He’d have to wait.
I knew now what I wanted, and I wanted both these men. I was going to have them too, I decided. I felt power coursing through me.
I could hear the second man groan a little in my ear as I slowly stroked his hard-on with a wet hand. It felt thick and meaty in my palm.
“Let’s get out of here,” I whispered.
I don’t know what had come over me. The shy girl I left behind in London was so far away. It was frightening how easily I had stepped into this role. I really needed to go on more business trips! This suited me, I thought.
They didn’t take much convincing. As we started to make our way out of the bar, a man on either side, one with an arm around my waist and the other holding my ass, the bartender’s blank stare followed us across the room. I grinned as I felt her gaze.
Just before we got to the door, I turned to the bartender, walked over to her, and handed her my phone.
“Would you take a photo for my husband?”
As we posed, the black-haired man cupped a breast, while the other leant in and kissed my neck. I blew a kiss at the camera. We heard the shutter sound. The bartender’s expression of utter befuddlement was priceless, but I wish I could have seen his expression when he got it.
The old drunk at the end of the bar looked up from the bottom of his glass to see what was going on and spat his beer across the room.
_______
Ping.
The caption on the photo said, “I’m going to busy for the rest of the night, honey. Talk to you tomorrow. X”
I felt my heart stop. Then I came.
More titles coming soon – check out Camille’s Amazon Author Page for more details.
Other short erotic fiction by Camille White you might like
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Helpless: In Alien Hands | Beck and Jack find themselves snatched from their beds at daybreak, then suspended, naked, from the ceiling of a huge warehouse as they are prepared by humanoids to be probed, suckled and penetrated by a thousand hungry alien mouths, seeking out the chips they suspect are planted beneath their flesh.
The Hotwife Game (Hotwife, Cuckold, Humiliation) Page 1