The Complete BBW Hotwife

by Sadie Somerton

  But one of the great skills Lucy has developed is judging the moment, reading all the signs and taking me right to that precipice without leading me over.

  Slowly, slowly, the moment passed.

  Still she held me tight in that fist, peering up the length of my body at me.

  Without breaking our locked gaze, she drew her head away, moved to stand, and finally released my dick so that it slapped down hard against my belly.

  Now, she stood before me, reached down and took the hem of her skirt in both hands.

  With a wiggle of the hips, she straightened, pulling the skirt up around her hips.

  She wore sheer black hold-ups and no panties, her pussy shaved smooth, the lips slightly parted as she stood with her legs apart.

  She moved towards me, raising one knee to rest on the edge of the chair.

  Reached down for my dick and pulled it upright again.

  Tipped her pelvis forward and pressed the head of my dick between those parted lips.

  She was so wet for me!

  My eyes kept jumping from her look and down to her mouth, the lips slightly parted, lower lip drawn back between her teeth. Then back to her eyes, and then down to where her skirt was rucked up around her hips, to her bare pussy, my shaft sliding slowly inside her until she had taken my full length, and her smoothness met the dark tangle of hair at my crotch.

  Then, just when I thought she could take no more, she pressed down hard and I felt my dick nudging just a little deeper inside her, felt her grinding down against my pubic bone, her clit hard against me.

  Now that lower lip pulled clear of her teeth as it was Lucy’s turn to groan.

  I reached for her, then. A hand to either side, gripping her hips, holding her firmly against me so that every slight movement passed through us both, magnified by how tightly our bodies were joined.

  I arched my back, felt myself shifting inside her, felt her softness gliding against me. Saw her eyes widen as she gave that groan again.

  Now she started to rock her pelvis, holding me deep inside her, trying to find that sweet spot where her clit ground against my pubic bone.

  I dipped my head towards her, found the fullness of a breast and sucked the erect nipple between my teeth. As I started to flick my tongue, the urgency of her rocking against me increased.

  I moved my tongue faster, making each contact with that nipple harder.

  My fingers were buried deep in the soft flesh of her hips and ass, my grip tighter than it had ever been on the chair only a short time before.

  My neck and back hurt but that was nothing set against the intensity of the sensations we shared.

  I knew she was close.

  The way her movements became even more urgent.

  The way she pressed her breast harder against my eager mouth.

  That slight catch in her breath that was always a sure sign she was on the cusp.

  She threw her head back, and cried out, “Oh my God!” She was rarely a screamer, so this had clearly been intense for her, too.

  I bore up against her and felt that tell tale rippling of muscles deep inside her, fluttering against my dick.

  I pressed my face against her breasts, losing myself so deep in her cleavage I couldn’t breathe, didn’t care.

  Felt the surge starting in the pit of my belly, my balls pulling up, and then that sudden rush as my hot juices raced up my dick and burst out inside her.

  I thrust again, felt another surge, and then I started to subside, the sensitivity of my dick transforming as I began to grow soft. Another rush of semen surged up and out, and all the time the muscles deep in her cunt clenched and squeezed around me, her orgasm still drawing itself out.

  Finally, we both subsided, still joined wetly, my head turned to the side so I could breathe again.

  I didn’t know what to think...

  The intensity.

  The urgency.

  The depth of my love for this extraordinary woman.

  And the abject fear that this might be the last time, a final farewell fuck before she left me for her new lover.

  §

  I didn't expect Celia to be the one to make the next move.

  After that incredibly passionate encounter with Lucy in my home office the two of us had done anything but talk about the things that mattered for the next couple of days. I don't think that was a deliberate choice, as such. It was just that there never seemed to be the right opportunity.

  I wanted to talk. Hell, I needed to. The uncertainty was killing me.

  But every time the thought came into my head the words just wouldn't come, or it seemed too forced.

  I know.

  I was avoiding the answers. The confirmation that this really was the end of the thing I cherished above everything else.

  Maybe that was why Celia messaged me. The two of them talking, trying to work out ways to move forward. For there was one thing I was sure of: Celia hadn't contacted me without first discussing it with my wife.

  Can we talk? I'm in the city today. Could do coffee? Celia xx

  I was at my desk, six floors up with a view over the bay. This was another world, and until now it had been my best chance of isolating myself from that other world, the one suddenly loaded with so many doubts.

  Celia's text message shattered that illusion quite comprehensively.

  I had meetings spread throughout the day, and plenty to do in between times. My working days were always like this. Everyone knew that.

  It would be easy to put her off.

  §

  We met a couple of hours later at a little coffee bar a couple of blocks from my office, a place that was all chrome and big, dramatic pot plants, and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the water.

  She was already there, and I wondered how long she'd been waiting for me.

  “Been here long?” I asked. “Sorry. Mad day, you know. Coffee?”

  I went to order, then came back and sat, my delaying tactics run out already.

  She looked at me, gave a little, awkward smile, then glanced outside, before returning her gaze to me. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't expect this. I hate that I might have come between you. I hate to see Lucy so torn.”

  She was trying to be nice, but all she did was expose my fears even more. The two had clearly talked, probably at length. Certainly more than Lucy and I had done in the last couple of days.

  And Lucy was torn. If she felt that way then she must be torn between different options or possibilities, and some of those scenarios must surely exclude me.

  Our drinks came, an interruption that managed to defuse some of the tension.

  “Can we do this, do you think?” I said, when we were alone again. I needed to take some kind of control. “Is it possible to work out some arrangement that doesn't pull us all apart in some way?”

  “You mean a threesome?”

  I snorted into my coffee.

  She was laughing.

  I shook my head, said, “I mean... I mean there must be something Lucy gets from you that she doesn't get from me, and I hope there are things she still gets from me that she's reluctant to let go of. Does it have to be mutually exclusive? We're all grown-ups. We should be able to, I don't know, come to a modern, adult solution. Do you think that's what she wants?”

  Celia had been looking down into her coffee, cradled in both hands. Now she looked up with those pale blue eyes, and said, “I think so, yes. But is that what you want, Jason?”

  “I don't know,” I told her. “Right up until a few days ago this was all the biggest adventure of my life, encouraging Lucy to explore, sharing the journey with her, but now I'm not sure.”

  Celia gave a wicked grin at that. “She told me you enjoyed it,” she said. “She told me she shared everything with you. All the juicy details.”

  I shrugged, then looked away – my turn to look out over the water as if distracted. In truth, I wasn't sure what she wanted me to say.

  I looked back, met her g
aze, said, “She does. That was the big kick. The thrill. I encouraged her from the start. Sometimes I even helped set things up.”

  “Was that why you left the two of us alone that evening when I came round? Was that all part of the plan?”

  I looked at her more closely, then, struck by the realization that maybe she was just as uncertain of her position as me. Even more so, given that she was the newcomer. Had she arranged to meet me because of that, rather than any joint decision with Lucy?

  “There was no plan that night,” I told her. “Not really. Yes, I left the two of you alone, and later on I encouraged Lucy to go back and 'check on' you.” I drew the quotation marks in the air as I spoke, in that mannerism that normally just bugged me.

  “Did she tell you what we did?”

  I studied her closely again, wondering how much she really wanted to know. Even now, I found myself being careful, not wanting to harm my wife's new relationship. Funny how the logic works in such an unexpected situation.

  “She didn't have to,” I said, turning the responsibility back onto me. “I was there. I watched.”

  Celia's eyes widened and her jaw sagged, a classic double-take. I could almost hear her mind racing, trying to work out if I was telling the truth.

  “It's okay,” I said. “I didn't see much at all. I wasn't hiding in a cupboard with a movie camera.”

  She relaxed a little then. Said, “So what happened? What did you see?”

  “Like I say, I encouraged Lucy to go back to you. I could tell she was excited. Turned on. Frustrated, too: she clearly hadn't wanted to leave you, had wanted more. So I persuaded her to go back. I went with her. When she stopped at the door of your room I was standing right behind her. Up against her...”

  Lucy had been naked, and so had I...

  “Were you...?”

  I nodded. Just a couple of long thrusts... I'd been inside Lucy as we stood there, as she'd spoken to Celia.

  “Just briefly,” I said.

  “That must have been frustrating.”

  I nodded. “Horny and frustrating.”

  I shifted in my seat, as I relived that moment.

  Across the table from me Celia briefly drew her lower lip in between her teeth, something I'd last seen Lucy do, that time in my home office. Had she picked that mannerism up from Celia?

  “Wow,” said Celia. “I had no idea at the time. Did you... did you watch us?”

  I shook my head, then shrugged. “I looked through the door for a short time,” I said. “But I couldn't see much. Then I left you to it.”

  “Ever the gentleman.”

  I nodded. “Yes, ever the gentleman.”

  The gentleman who now sat opposite his wife's lover with his pants stretched tight by a towering erection.

  §

  “So what did you do?” Celia asked. “Did you... play?”

  How much did she want to know?

  I nodded.

  “I went back to our bedroom,” I said. “All kinds of thoughts racing through my head.”

  “And you played.”

  “I did. But never to completion.” It sounded so clinical saying it out loud like that. I wasn't used to this, despite all the times Lucy and I had talked, despite all my claims to worldly experience.

  “You waited for Lucy.”

  I nodded again. “And when she came back she tasted of you.”

  There was no mistaking it. Celia gave that slightly mischievous, slightly wicked smile again. Bit at her lower lip. She was turned on. Just as I was sitting there poker-hard, I was absolutely certain she was wet just from talking like this. From hearing my side of what had happened that evening.

  She moved in her seat, and I knew it was so that she could press herself against the chair, squeeze her thighs together.

  “That wasn't the last time you tasted me.”

  I stared at her.

  “That party,” she explained. “The group thing.”

  She was right! That day was something of a blur to me... Lucy had arranged it all, trying to find something I'd never done before, arranging a party where just about anything went. So many people, so many naked bodies... it all ran together in my memory, but yes, Celia had been there, of course. Had probably helped Lucy organize everything.

  I tried to focus, tried to remember the detail.

  Celia was smiling, nodding. “You did,” she said. “Although I know I was one of many that day.”

  I shrugged, spread my hands. Thought, I've had you. My wife's lover. So just where do the boundaries lie now?

  Was this what she'd come here to remind me of?

  I couldn't work out if that made things clearer, or not. Where we might go from here.

  “Are you as turned on as I am right now?” She said that conversationally, as if it was no more than passing comment on the weather.

  “Let's put it this way,” I said. “I'm not going to stand up any time soon.”

  That smile again.

  “What are you thinking right now?” she asked. Then, as I hesitated, she went on: “Are you remembering that party? Or are you still thinking about that first night, when Lucy came back to join me?”

  “I... Both. My mind's jumping all over the place.”

  “You know what she likes best? She likes my breasts.” She sat back, and I couldn't help but let my gaze drop. Celia wasn't as big as Lucy, but her breasts were beautifully formed. “She likes to tease my nipples hard, with her tongue, or with a finger. Says she could play with them for hours if I let her. You like that thought?”

  That was when I really understood. Celia was loving this. Every moment of it. The talk. Hearing about how turned on I was, how I had watched and played; how I'd tasted her juices on my wife's kiss. Enjoying telling me how she turned Lucy on. How well she knew my wife's body. The knowledge that I was sitting there, nursing a massive erection beneath the table.

  All of it.

  She was just like me. Just like Lucy. Three of a kind.

  “Put your hand under the table,” she said now. “Touch yourself. For me.”

  I hesitated, then let my hand drop casually so that my arm lay across my lap. I pressed down.

  “Think of me fucking your wife.”

  I moved my arm.

  “Think of me parting her pussy lips with my tongue, running the tip along those wet folds. You know how she likes to shave everything smooth these days? That's for me. She knows how much I love that smoothness. So, you know, lickable.”

  I had to shift in my seat again, the pressure so intense.

  “You've had me once...” said Celia. She didn't need to finish the sentence for me to know it was an invitation.

  For a moment I didn't know what to do. Was this some kind of set-up between them, and if so, what was the correct response? And part of me was thinking, What the Hell? Was everything fair game now?

  I shook my head.

  Yes, I'd had her before, but that had been different. It had been out in the open at that party, a shared thing. I'd been bombarded by sensation, by bodies and touch and taste. So much so that I afterwards I could barely remember all that had happened, let alone the detail of who, where, what.

  This wasn't the same.

  “No,” I said, in answer to the unspoken invitation. “I can't tell you just how turned on I am right now, but no. I'm not going behind Lucy's back. We don't need to sneak around. We can't do that if we're to move on.”

  Her smile had transformed from that cheeky grin to something warmer now.

  “You really are a gentleman, aren't you?” she said, as if she'd never encountered such a thing before.

  I wasn't entirely sure that was true about me, but I had certainly come to realize there were still rules. I just wasn't quite sure what they were any more.

  “Tell me,” she went on. “When you leave here, are you going to find somewhere quiet and play? I do hope you will.”

  “Maybe,” I said. Then I took it one step further: “You tell me... If I do, what should I thin
k about? What would you like me to think about?”

  She gave that smile again. “That's easy,” she said. “Think about the reason Lucy's going to be late home this evening. Think about the detour she's going to make so she can call in at my apartment first. Think about her fucking me, Jason, because that's what's going to happen and you can't deny that turns you on, because I know it does. Lucy's told me how aroused you get, just thinking about it, talking about it. Anticipating...”

  And with that she smiled one more time, then stood, turned and walked away.

  §

  That evening, Lucy was late. Just an hour or so, but enough for me to know Celia had been telling the truth.

  She came to me in my home office.

  “I've come from Celia's,” she said.

  “I know.” I studied her face, but couldn't read her expression.

  “We were talking.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Disappointed that she felt the need to make excuses even now. Then it dawned on me that she might be telling the truth: maybe she had just gone there to talk. Had Celia been winding me up? Some elaborate kind of flirting?

  “What were you talking about?” I asked, as if it wasn't obvious.

  “Us. The three of us. You, Jason. That's what really drew us together in the first place, Jason: talking about you. Our marriage.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I was scared. Scared I was losing you.”

  “Losing me?” I didn't understand.

  She nodded. “Scared that I wasn't enough for you. That you were encouraging me to explore because you needed the novelty. That maybe you were more interested in me with other people than you were in just me.”

  I stood, went to her. “There's no such thing as 'just' you,” I said. “How could you think that? You're my world. Everything.”

  But I knew exactly how she could think that way, because the fears she'd just spoken aloud were exactly the ones I had felt. That I might lose her, that I wouldn't be enough to retain her interest.

  “I never meant it to upset you,” I said. “We enjoyed it, didn't we?”

  She smiled. “Oh yes,” she said. “It's been one Hell of a trip, Jason. It really has. But I can't help getting scared sometimes, you know?”