The Complete BBW Hotwife

by Sadie Somerton

  She squeezed, twisting her wrist as she held me.

  “You really want to know?” she asked. She peered up at me, batting her eyelids, biting at her lower lip. “You want to know how big he was? You want to know what he felt like? What he tasted like?”

  She started to pull and stroke, still twisting her wrist... so many different sensations from that one movement!

  “You want to know how much he turned me on?”

  §

  Later. Some long time later...

  Lying tangled and exhausted, my head was still spinning with what she’d told me. Trying to understand my own response.

  I thought of Frazier again. Could I be that man? The one who encourages his wife to go out and explore. The one who sits back and watches. The whole thing... well, it was a major mind-fuck, but the one thing I knew was that the feelings it provoked in me were incredibly intense.

  The kind of feelings that, once you’ve experienced them one time, well...

  “Have you ever kissed a girl?”

  And you know how one thing leads to another?

  Yeah. That.

  §

  Celia and Lucy go back a long way. They’d worked together when Lucy finished college, and stayed in touch ever since.

  Celia is maybe five one or two, her figure is slight but still keeps its curves, she has wavy blonde hair with bangs almost over her big blue eyes and the kind of easy-going openness about her that immediately puts you at ease. She’d just split up with her boyfriend and Lucy was saying how hard Celia was finding it and, well, it had been automatic to suggest inviting her over for the evening.

  I wasn’t planning anything. Really, I wasn’t! It was more about reaching out to a friend in need.

  But I guess a part of my mind was still buzzing away, going over and over this scary, exciting new aspect of my relationship with Lucy.

  As soon as the invitation had been made, I caught my mind wandering. Thinking about the visual of the two of them together: petite Celia just slotting into Lucy’s curves. Once that image was planted, it was hard not to keep returning.

  I was intrigued to realize that the thrill was subtly different this time. The feeling of possessiveness wasn’t so strong. Did I feel less threatened by the thought of Lucy being with a woman rather than a man?

  Almost certainly so.

  But was it then, automatically, less intense? Because by now I fully understood that the excitement went hand in hand with the fear and insecurity.

  And was I seriously worrying that the possibility of Lucy getting physical with Celia wasn’t going to be horny?

  §

  I left them to it. Shut myself away in my home office to catch up on correspondence.

  I heard the door, heard voices, laughter. A short time later I heard footsteps and a door upstairs. We had a spare room up there, part guest room, part retreat where we would sometimes go to settle down on the big sofa and watch movies.

  I tried not to think about what might be happening up there. They were drinking wine, watching a film, that was all. I didn’t even know if anything was going to happen at all. I certainly hadn’t talked about it with Lucy. The possibility might not even occur to her.

  The door went again some time later. By the time I’d reached my office doorway Lucy was already there, handing over some money to the delivery guy.

  She turned and spotted me.

  “How’s things?” I asked.

  She smiled. “All good,” she said. Then: “I’ve got a treat for you.”

  I raised an eyebrow and my mind started to race, then she came over, holding up the smaller of the two bags. “Those pork dumplings you like,” she said. “And hoisin duck.”

  She kissed me on the cheek, turned, and headed back upstairs.

  I went back to my desk, pushed the papers aside, and spread out my feast.

  §

  I could barely eat a thing.

  My mind just wasn’t there. It was one floor up, wandering.

  I felt stupid, and more than a little like a dirty old man, shut up in my office and getting all hard and frustrated over something that almost certainly wasn’t even close to happening.

  Lucy and I hadn’t discussed this, any more than that it would be a nice thing for her to spoil Celia a little.

  The two of them were just watching a movie and putting the world to rights.

  I had to break out of that frustration. I made myself calm down. Maybe this was better. Maybe it didn’t need anything to actually be happening. It was a fantasy, right? There was no harm in my mind wandering. Maybe later in bed I’d tell Lucy how I’d felt and we’d get to talking about where my thoughts had gone, and maybe we’d have some fun over that.

  I loaded my chopsticks with rice and scooped it through the hoisin sauce.

  Somehow I managed to distract myself and actually get some work done.

  I hoped the two of them were having a good evening. I genuinely did. It was the right thing to do: I knew what a tough time Celia had been having lately.

  Later, I shut down my laptop and headed for the stairs.

  I paused at the top. The guestroom door was partly open and I could hear music and voices, the soundtrack of whatever movie they were watching.

  I considered poking my head around to say goodnight, but held back and went to our bedroom instead. I really didn’t want to intrude.

  I stripped to my shorts and washed, then sat on the bed, leaning back on my hands. It seemed wrong to go to bed alone; that almost never happened unless one of us was away on a trip.

  I was saved from having to make a decision by the sound of someone moving about, then the door opened and Lucy came in.

  Pushing the door shut behind her, she paused, looking me up and down. She had that look in her eye. Hungry. Now, all those thoughts rushed back. Had something happened?

  “Celia’s going to stay over,” she said. “That okay?”

  I said nothing, just raised an eyebrow.

  She waved a hand at me, dismissive, laughing. She started to undress, and I sat back to enjoy the show.

  “In the spare room,” she said, reaching back to unhook her bra. “I’ve given her some bedding, shown her where everything is. She’s had a little too much wine to be driving home tonight.”

  “Makes sense,” I said.

  She looked up and down my body again, my semi-erection obvious in my shorts. I remembered my earlier thoughts, wondered if I should share that I had been fantasizing about the two of them.

  “Did you have a nice evening?”

  She nodded, hooked a thumb into the waistband of her lace panties and pulled them slowly down.

  This was always one of my favorite moments of the day. Lucy can be very self-conscious at times, but then, when the day is done and we get ready for bed, she drops her guard. Just the two of us, it’s as if she’s suddenly willing not only to accept that she’s a beautiful woman but to start enjoying it, exploiting it. We’ll undress for each other, encouraging the wandering eyes, the appreciation. For a split second she’ll hold a pose, knowing that it makes the most of her curves. She’ll lean, drawing the eye to her cleavage. She’ll enjoy the way she can move and that sudden confidence in her own body, well, it does things...

  When she came to stand before me, my erection was like steel, so hard it ached.

  “So...” I said. “She’s staying over, you say?”

  She nodded, then reached for me, drawing my head into her cleavage. I looped my arms around her waist, reveling in the contact, the smoothness of her skin.

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” she said. She had her hands on the back of my head, holding me tight against her.

  “So nothing happened?”

  She pulled back so she could look down at me. Something had. Something had happened.

  “It was nothing,” she said.

  She was sounding too defensive again. I knew there was more.

  “What kind of nothing?”

  She laughed. “
Really. We just snuggled down and watched a couple of movies. We didn’t do anything.”

  “But it was clearly enough that it put the thought in your head.”

  “Maybe.” Then: “It was all innocent, I’m sure. But when you’re sitting with someone like that and you know your husband is going to be thinking all kinds of things about what might be happening.” She put up a hand to cut off any protestations from me. “Yes, Jason, I know exactly what you’re like. Well, in those kind of circumstances your mind wanders, yes.”

  I started to stroke the smooth flesh of her ass.

  “There was one point where I had my arm around her and she just tucked right in. It was weird. Intimate. Entirely innocent, but, well...”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  She paused, then said, “She made me so wet! Just holding her like that. I wanted to put a hand on the top of her head, steer her down to my breasts.” As if for emphasis, the hand she still had on the back of my head pressed me in even closer.

  I rolled my face against her, then peered up. “You could,” I said. “You could go back to her right now.”

  She looked at me disbelievingly. “She’d run a mile.”

  “How do you know unless you try?”

  §

  I followed her out of the bedroom, pausing only to slip my shorts down and kick them away. I wondered how Lucy felt right now. Nervous, surely. But then... there was that wiggle in her walk, that late-night just-the-two-of-us confidence about her. She was enjoying this. Maybe she wanted it more than me.

  She paused at the doorway to Celia’s room, and I came to stand behind her.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, her head poking around the part-open door.

  I put my hands on Lucy’s hips and slid my dick along the crack in her ass.

  God, I was turned on! The build-up, the anticipation and fantasizing all evening... even when I’d managed to distract myself with work, a part of my mind was still buzzing away, wondering what was going on.

  Lucy squeezed her butt cheeks together and I adjusted my position, bending at the knees so that the slippery head of my dick could follow that crack down and slide between her thighs.

  There was a sound from the room, an answer from Celia that I couldn’t quite make out.

  What if she came to the door? I hadn’t even thought of that possibility! Oh my God... what if she found us like this?

  “Can I get you anything?” Lucy asked.

  I pressed against softness, wet heat.

  I reached down, positioned my dick so it was nuzzling against Lucy’s wet opening.

  Pushed.

  I thought we were going to lose balance then, hadn’t realized Lucy wasn’t really leaning against anything.

  We caught ourselves, and somehow stayed upright.

  “I think I’m okay,” said Celia. Her voice indicated she at least hadn’t come to the door.

  I pushed slowly until Lucy’s ass was pressing against me.

  “You sure?” Lucy’s voice was all over the place.

  I started to slide back out, even slower now.

  I held myself with just the head of my dick inside her. I wanted this conversation between her and Celia to go on forever.

  I started to push and Lucy gave a wiggle of the hips, then pulled away.

  My dick flipped away from her as she took a step into the room, and I took a step back away from the door.

  I leaned with my back against the wall as Lucy said, “Sorry. I don’t wear anything in bed. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  So Celia had seen her naked now. Lucy didn’t seem too alarmed at the reaction. Her voice had been... well, it was that late-night thing when the way she moved changed along with the tone in her voice. The confidence of a seductress.

  My dick was wet from Lucy. From my own juices, too. I pressed it against my belly with the flat of my hand as I tried to visualize what was going on in there. So slippery against me!

  Voices from the room. Muffled. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was... relaxed. Intimate. This really was going to happen.

  One simple question: Have you ever kissed a girl?

  I wondered if she had now?

  I edged forward, trying to peer through the doorway without risking being seen.

  Lucy stood at the end of the big sofa bed. Celia stood beyond it, her naked body visible from the waist up. Her breasts were small, pert, the nipples dark in the low light of the room. I let my eyes roam down her body to her narrow waist, the slight spread of her hips, and then the back of the sofa cut off my view.

  I felt like a dirty old voyeur, seeing her like that. And I pressed my dick against my belly just a little harder.

  As I watched, the two of them moved together. Lucy dipped her head and they kissed. At first there was no other contact but their mouths and then they moved closer and their breasts squashed together. Hands moved down, resting on hips, on the small of a dainty back. Lucy moved a hand up to cup one of Celia’s breasts, her thumb flicking at the nipple.

  I realized I was stroking my dick to the same rhythm as Lucy’s hand working Celia’s breast.

  Celia broke away then. They spoke, laughed. They seemed so natural together, so comfortable in their nakedness. They kissed again, more passionately this time, any traces of hesitation gone.

  They started to press their bodies together, legs pressing, Celia’s thigh forcing itself between Lucy’s.

  Their hands played a delicate dance across each other’s bodies, pausing to squeeze and caress. Their movements together were sinuous, more erotic than anything I’d ever seen before.

  Lucy reached down and slid her hands between Celia’s legs. I could see the muscles in her arms flexing as she caressed and probed.

  I took my shaft in my fist now and started to pump. The need was an ache and I needed release.

  I felt that knot of tension deep in my groin, a pressure ready to explode. I wanted... I needed...

  I paused.

  Held on tight.

  Focused everything on keeping that pressure back down, deep.

  Felt a deep throbbing in my shaft and thought that was it, then... slowly, slowly subsiding, the moment passing.

  As I started to catch my breath I peered into the room again, but now they had lowered themselves to the sofa-bed and all I could see was the occasional glimpse of legs, a head rising and then lowering, a hand straining up to grip the back of the sofa, the knuckles white with tension.

  I strained to hear what was happening. Heard groaning. A slap of flesh. Occasional wet sounds as they moved.

  I held myself tight, my thumb wetly circling the head of my dick.

  I don’t know how long I stayed there like that.

  Long enough for my whole body to ache, for pains to shoot through my numb limbs when I finally forced myself to retreat.

  §

  Back in our bedroom, I went to bed. I’d stopped touching myself now, but still my erection was like a steel poker, long and hard against my belly.

  Lucy came to me later, smelling of sex.

  I must have dozed, eventually. Then I looked up and the door was open and she stood there, her skin pale in the dim light from the bedside lamp.

  She came across the room and stood over me.

  Leaned over, so that her breasts pressed against me.

  When she kissed me, her mouth tasted of pussy, her chin and lips still wet from it.

  “I have,” she told me. “I have now.”

  And I knew exactly what she meant: I’ve kissed a girl.

  “Tell me,” I gasped as her hand slipped down between us, found that rock-hard erection and started to press and squeeze and slide. “Tell me all about it.”

  What Goes On Tour

  Sunday morning. Drifting into consciousness.

  I open my eyes to sunlight angling in through the slots in the blinds, the light golden, beautiful, landing on Lucy.

  She’s watching me, smiling. Raising herself onto one el
bow. A sheet is loosely wrapped around her curves. Her breasts are partly exposed, and a lock of golden hair trails across her left cheek.

  She has that look in her eye.

  Still half-asleep, I feel myself starting to respond.

  Lying on my back, the sheet is too confining. I turn onto my side to face her and my dick swings down, free of the sheet, striking the mattress with an audible thump.

  I grunt something approximating a ‘Good morning’. Loving this. Loving the moment. The waking up with Lucy thing. We’ve been together three years now, but still it’s a thrill to wake up with her.

  She raises the sheet, peers down, and her smile broadens. “Well, good morning,” she says.

  I’m fully hard now, that aching rigidity of a morning erection focusing my thoughts.

  I lean towards her, stretch my neck so I can kiss her. The softness of the contact, the response as she presses back, the slight parting of her lips, the tip of her tongue...

  I reach for her, place my hand on the curve of her hip, try to draw her towards me but she resists.

  “Tell me,” she says.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About your first time. Back when you were young and innocent.”

  I raise an eyebrow. It’s a running thing between us, something that in our early days I’d mistaken for a source of tension: the age difference, all the additional experience and exploration I’d crammed into that extra ten years.

  I soon learned that the gap was something that could enrich our relationship: Lucy was curious about my past, keen to explore her own responses through my experiences. Turned on by my stories.

  I push towards her again, press my mouth against hers. With my hand on the small of her back, I try to pull her closer but again she resists.

  With a slight shake of the head, she says, “No. Not yet.”

  I want her. Need her. Right now.

  But Lucy can be very persuasive.

  Sometimes it’s all about giving. She’ll take me in her hand and squeeze. Twist her wrist as she tightens that grip. Fix me with her look.

  I’d do anything for her when she does that.

  Other times it’s all about the promise, the tease...

  Now, she slips her hand down between us, pulling the sheet tight against me.