The Village Wife: A Hotwife Fantasy

by Jason Lenov

  The Village Wife

  A Hotwife Fantasy

  Jason Lenov

  Copyright 2016 Jason Lenov

  Thirteenth Line Publications

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, companies, organizations, products and events in this book, other than those that are clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, companies, organizations, events, or products, is purely conincidental.

  All characters depicted in this story are 18 years or older.

  Cover characters are models. Image(s) is/are licensed from:

  depositphotos.com

  If you enjoy this story, we'd love it if you spent a few minutes checking out the rest of our catalog at Thirteenth Line Join the Thirteenth Line mailing list, to get notified about our releases.

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  I turned the window crank, keeping my eyes on the road. A warm rush of late May air swept through the car. Jenny grabbed her hat.

  "That's an awfully stiff breeze," she frowned.

  "I don't mind it. Take your hat off," I replied. "Church is over."

  "Reg, it's Sunday."

  "So?"

  "So I'm not riding around like a trollop without a hat."

  I chuckled and shook my head.

  "That was a dull sermon John gave today, wasn't it?" I asked after a while. "I think we'll be happy here. I think it's the right place for us. Nothing like a sleepy Sunday sermon to judge the serenity of a place, is there?"

  I felt her frown beside me. I didn't mean it in a bad way. Sometimes I just liked getting under her skin a little.

  When I looked over. She was still clinging to her hat, looking out the window, scowling despite the daisy's dotting the rolling hills.

  "What's the matter?" I asked.

  "Nothing." Her mouth was a little tight.

  "Come on. What is it? I can tell with you Jenny Chambers. I can tell right away when something's wrong."

  She looked at me and shook her head a little.

  "I'll tell you what. I'll take you for lunch if you tell me. I'll take you for a nice Sunday lunch."

  I felt her stewing in whatever was bothering her for a bit before she spoke up.

  "Reg."

  "Yes, doll?"

  "It's just...

  "What is it, love?"

  "It's just, shouldn't you call him Pastor John? And you shouldn't say things like that. About the sermon."

  I nearly cracked up. I just barely held it in. She was like that, Jenny was. Respect for a man of the cloth. Her father had made her that way.

  "You sound like your mother," I teased.

  I heard her harumph in the seat next to me. I turned the car into the little dirt lane way leading to our little house.

  "Well...well...you sound like my father!" she chirped. Her voice always got higher when she was upset.

  I pulled the car up just in front of the garage and turned the key. The engine coughed a few times, then fell silent. The silence inside the car started to get hotter with no breeze so I rolled the window down a little more. I leaned over towards Jenny with a smile.

  "Anyways, don't you think so?" I asked, kissing her shoulder.

  She knew what I wanted but shrugged me off a little anyways. She'd never say "no" to my advances but sometimes she played with me like that.

  "Think what?" she snapped, her pursed lips snapping back to a pout as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

  "Don't you think we'll be happy here?" I murmured, still smiling at her.

  "I do," she sighed. Now there was something else in her voice. A different disappointment.

  "Now what is it?"

  "I'll miss Tom and Dora and Lacey and the twins. I already do."

  "Your family can come up and visit any time. You know that," I consoled.

  "It's not the same. It's not the same as having them right next door."

  It sure as hell wasn't the same. Not in a bad way, either. It stung a little bit, her feeling bad about the move. I'd worked a damn hard year to make the down payment on a house we could afford. Now here she was getting salty about it.

  "Well if the best I can do isn't good enough for you then maybe you need to find yourself..."

  "Reg, stop that! It's not that and you know it!"

  It startled me a bit, her talking back like that. I guess I was getting a little too salty myself.

  "Look, I did this so I didn't have to worry so much. I did it so that if the...when the baby comes I'll have more time for both of you."

  I cursed myself inside for how I'd misspoke but I kept smiling. She caught it though.

  "If."

  "What if?" I asked, trying to play it off.

  "You were going to say if. If the baby comes."

  "Come on now," I soothed, putting a hand on her arm, "don't be like that."

  She shifted in the seat and a glint of light caught my eye. I looked down. She was wearing it. She was wearing the anklet I'd given her. I'd never seen her wear it before. Strange choice, to wear it on a Sunday. I was happy to see it on her, though. It was a nice piece. I don't know why she hadn't worn it before.

  "You're wearing it," I said, looking up at her, my smile a little wider.

  "What?"

  "The anklet. You're wearing it."

  She blushed a little. My cock moved against my Sunday trousers.

  "You like it?" she said, her voice hushed.

  "I love it. Why didn't you wear it before?"

  She got a little redder and turned away. "It's not the sort of thing..."

  "Not the sort of thing what?"

  "It's not the sort of thing a girl like me should wear."

  "What does that mean? A girl like you?"

  "A church-going girl, I mean."

  "But you wore it to church!"

  She shrugged. She sure as hell could be confusing sometimes. It didn't matter. I didn't mind now that I saw it on her. My cock grew a little more.

  "What about my lunch? I told you what you wanted to hear, now I want that lunch you promised."

  She was getting very cocky. I sort of liked it. I liked the look of her more, though. Her red lip stick matched the red and white polka dot dress she was wearing. It made her blue eyes even bluer and I liked the way her plump ass cheeks puffed out the sides of the dress.

  "Let's go inside," I whispered. A breeze blew in through the open window, smelling like the promise of summer.

  She looked up with her opal eyes. "But you said..."

  "I know what I said. As soon as we're done, I'll buy you lunch."

  Her cheeks got a little pinker. I got even stiffer, looking at her, so embarrassed in her Sunday best, the anklet I bought her catching the light.

  Without a word, she pulled the door handle, pulled her dainty feet up and stepped out of the car. I watched her walk around the front of it, teetering on the gravel in the heels she was wearing.

  She had a shapely body. Round in all the right places and even though she was uptight, she was the kind of girl who knew just what to wear to make herself look good. I opened my door and followed after he
r.

  "Hey, where you going?" I asked, catching her inside before she disappeared into the bedroom.

  She turned her eyes down. She could never look at me right before. I kind of liked that, too. This time, though, I wanted her to look. I wanted to see how scared she was that the good Lord might be watching. Sex on a Sunday? Before noon? I knew she'd want to close the blinds nice and tight in the bedroom.

  "I thought...I thought I'd go get ready for you," she whispered.

  "You're already ready. Right here."

  She looked up with wide blue eyes. I could tell she couldn't believe what I was saying.

  "Reg..."

  "What?" I asked, scooping her towards me and lifting her up onto the counter. I pushed aside our coffee cups from before church.

  "Reg..." she started again, her voice a little more pleading now. She was squirming. I loved it.

  "What's a matter baby? You worried someone's gonna see?"

  She looked down again and nodded. I started to pull myself out.

  The thing was, no matter how worried she was, no matter how much it bothered her that we were in the kitchen with the sun shining in, she'd never say no. She'd never say no because I'd taught her that's what a good wife does. A good wife does as she's told.

  Jenny looked away as soon as I pulled my cock out. It was stiff and ready and I could see she was trying not to look at it, even though she wanted to. I pulled her to the edge of the counter. She gasped.

  I pulled the polka dot dress up slowly, my shaft hardening at the sight of her fleshy white thighs. Her skin was soft as down as I slid my hands up her legs and found the cotton of her panties. It was damp and her smell drifted up between our bodies.

  She let out a little whimper as I slipped my finger past the patch of soaked hair just above her slit. She stole a glance at my bouncing member but quickly looked away.

  "Don't worry baby, no one's going to see," I comforted. She was perched on the very edge of the counter now. I could feel her pulsing wet heat on the head of my cock. Stepping towards her, I leaned in and kissed her neck. She squirmed. I drove myself inside.

  Chapter 2

  Jennifer Chambers, born Summers, was the daughter of a merchant, one James William Summers, warden of the church. Her childhood had been spent in Sunday schools and Bible study. She'd had a solid education in the one room school house in the village of Barnhill, solid enough that her parents had sent her to a high school while her siblings helped on the farm.

  Her studies had paid off in the sense that she'd received a scholarship upon graduating, to attend the University of Arboles to study history. That is where we'd met.

  By the time I first laid eyes on Jenny, I'd become almost completely convinced that I'd die a bachelor. It didn't bother me. I'd had plenty of female friends who'd shared my proclivity for sex. None of them were marriageable though. I'd hesitate to call them loose women, but it wouldn't have felt right, knowing their histories.

  Jennifer was completely different. Inexperienced and untouched, she radiated a virgin innocence that drew men to her like birds to a flower. She caught my eye from the moment she walked into my class but since student-faculty fraternization was strictly forbidden at Arboles I did my best to keep her out of mind.

  Her presence in my medieval studies class three times a week made that an impossible objective. I struggled for months to keep her intoxicating freshness in the darkest corners of my mind. I thought if I could last long enough, until some young buck finally charmed his way past her chaste veneer, it would give me some peace.

  But no one did. Not for lack of trying. I watched as each week a new suitor waited outside the lecture hall doors, smiling and striking up a conversation as soon as she walked out. It was almost comical how quickly and efficiently she rebuffed their advances. It came to be a source of great amusement, really. And a source of great frustration.

  It was a snowy night a few weeks before the Christmas break, when I was driving home from a festive faculty gathering to see a slow shape moving through the snow at the side of the road, leaning into the wind.

  I slowed and rolled down a window, thinking it might be a student who'd had too much nog.

  It was her. She was shivering from the cold and barely looked at me as I slowed to a crawl next to her and rolled down the window.

  "Professor Chambers!" she'd gasped, as if the devil himself had rolled up in that car.

  "Ms Summers, what on earth are you doing out here this time of night and in this cold?!?"

  She didn't answer.

  My heart was beating warmly in my chest. I knew the Dean to be a man of morals and strict with rules. My chest swelled at the thought of leaving the poor young girl at the side of the road to save my own skin. If there was ever an excuse to put my tenure in peril, this was it.

  "Ms Summers," I called out again, leaning over and pulling on the door handle. It swung open. "Ms Summers, get into this car at once. I'm giving you a ride."

  She stopped but didn't look at me. She stared straight ahead. I didn't know her then as well as I do know but if I had, I would have known she was weighing her prudish rules against the possibility of a warm car ride home. If I'd known her better, I would have known she, too, had been waiting for an opportunity like this. To be with me alone.

  "Ms Summers!" I remember snapping, "it's bloody cold out there and you're gravely mistaken if you think I'd ever leave you on the side of the road in this kind of wind. Now get in before I have to get out and haul you in myself!"

  It took another moment but that did the trick. She'd lowered herself into the car. I watched her and my heart skipped as I saw the flicker of a smile flash across her usually stern face. Once she'd closed the door, I pulled back onto the road.

  I wanted to know what she'd been doing out there. I wanted to know what Romeo had swept her off her feet then left her to walk home. Even then, the thought of her even smiling at another man had my insides twisted in jealousy and my cock bouncing in my pants.

  "Cold night to be out for a walk," I said, hoping she would volunteer something about her plight.

  Nothing. She sat beside me, tight-lipped and stone faced.

  "Going home for Christmas?" I asked, hoping to ease her out of her shell. I looked over to see her shaking her head. "May I ask why?" I regretted the question instantly.

  Thick, salty tears began rolling down her cheeks. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. Why had I bothered trying to be friendly? Poor thing was probably embarrassed enough as it was by the situation I'd found her in. She didn't need some old coot asking questions.

  "I'm very sorry," I apologized, "it's not my place to..."

  "It's not that," she answered tersely. "If you must know, I've just had a boy tell me I'm frigid and I can't go home because my family doesn't have the money to send for me. I'll be spending the two weeks in my dormitory. Alone."

  I felt worse than the idiot I'd been. When I pulled up to her building, I put the car in park and turned to her.

  "How did you know?" she asked.

  "How did I know what?"

  "How did you know this was my building?"

  The question caught me completely off guard. Of course I should have had no way of knowing. I should have asked. I may as well have confessed to her right then.

  I followed you once.

  "Uh...I...I thought that..." I blathered, my mind racing. Finally, with the awkward silence stretching longer between us by the second, I found a way out. "Don't all freshmen live at Midfield House?" I managed.

  She tilted her head. So slightly. I could have sworn I saw another flicker of a smile.

  "No. Thank-you. For the ride."

  Before I could get another word out, she'd opened her door and slipped out into the frigid night.

  Chapter 3

  "So how are you likin' Dunning so fah?" Jake Sturm asked in his East Coast drawl.

  "We love it," I replied, holding my glass up in a toast.

  He smiled and nodded his head. "Good. Goo
d." We let the silence linger for a while, staring out his balcony onto the puddles of pale yellow streetlights below. "You like cigahs?" he asked after a while.

  "Only when I'm drinking."

  My answer made him grin. "Hold this. I'll be right back." I watched him slide the glass door to the balcony open and walk inside. Jenny was standing in the living room, chatting with Jake's wife Ava, an animated woman with a wry smile. She seemed to be listening attentively to a story, nodding politely every so often.

  My cock moved at just the sight of her. I wanted to put my drink down, take her home and pry her ample thighs apart. Jake and Ava were nice enough, but nothing was nicer than sinking into my wife.

  Jake came back with two cigars, a cutter and a zippo. He grinned again and nodded, holding out the thick log of rolled tobacco for me to take. Once we were both lit, we stared back out into the night.

  "Jenny sure is a nice gal," he said after we'd both had a few puffs.

  "I'm a lucky man."

  "How'd you two meet?"

  I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. I didn't know Jake well yet. I wasn't sure how welcome the truth would be. The drink was doing its job, though. I took a calculated risk.

  "We met at college," I said, trying not to sound uneasy.

  "Really? You two?" he asked in disbelief.

  "I was her professor."

  I didn't look at him until I felt his fist touch my shoulder. He was wearing another wide grin.

  "You dawg! I knew it! A broad like that with a..." He stopped. I could tell he wasn't sure whether he could go on without upsetting me.

  "With an old fart like me?"

  "Ah! Come on! You're not that old. Are you?"

  I had to laugh. "Forty-seven."

  "Forty-seven? No shit. Oh. Pardon my French."

  "Not at all," I replied, smiling. "I am a lucky man."

  I watched him look back inside. I followed his gaze and saw Jenny laughing this time. Well, giggling at least.