A Conventional Hotwife

by Arnica Butler

  The two of them writhed together, Kyle's dark hands still moving all over my wife's body. They slid over her sweaty skin and down between her legs, dragging his load of cum and her excitement to be smeared over his skin as he enjoyed the pleasure of squeezing and kneading her flesh some more.

  They kissed, wetly, and then, finally, Kate threw herself back on the pillows.

  “That was fantastic,” she said.

  “You are one hot bitch in the sack, shorty.”

  Kate laughed. “Shorty? Seriously?”

  Kyle reached down and slapped her ass. “What do you wanna be called? MILF?”

  She pushed her hair up and out of her face. “Kate.”

  “Mizz Orel.” Kyle picked up his shirt and stood next to the bed, buttoning it. “You wanna order room service or something?” he said, but they seemed to both know that wasn't in the deal.

  Kate shook her head against the headboard, smiling as if they shared some private joke.

  “And Mr. Orel just...let's you come to these things and he doesn't worry about it?” Kyle asked.

  Kate didn't answer, she just sighed and rolled over on her stomach.

  Kyle climbed on top of her and kissed her neck, moving down her spine. “Because I'd be pretty worried if I had a fine-ass woman like you on the loose.”

  Kate giggled. “Okay. Go home now, I'm sleepy.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Kyle said, pulling away and sliding his pants up. “You got my number, though, right?”

  Kate turned over, curling up in a very feline pose to kiss him again. “Of course I do,” she said sweetly.

  He grinned at her smugly, gave her breasts a final squeeze, and then he hopped away and off camera.

  Kate lay there for a moment. Then, almost as if it was an afterthought, she rolled over and looked at the camera.

  She smiled. “Coming over?” she purred.

  And then the call was disconnected.

  I stumbled through the hallways. Maybe not stumbled. It is possible in fact, that I glided.

  I know that I saw either Pete or Mike. That whichever one of them it was said something to me, and that I held up my hand and said nothing as I walked by.

  Who knows what I looked like? Maybe just drunk. I could feel that my face was out of my own control. My features were moving into an expression they had never made before. I was unhinged.

  Inside, I was boiling.

  I had the key to Kate Orel's room.

  To my wife's room.

  The the room of the woman who was not my wife.

  I was about to enter that room and fuck her right after she had fucked Kyle Taylor. A man with a huge black cock who had filled her pussy full of cum.

  My hand shook as I inserted the card into the lock. I threw the door open.

  I heard the sound of the water running in the bathroom. I pushed the door open and saw Kathy, brushing her teeth naked in front of the mirror. Her skin was dry, and I could immediately smell the scent of sex on her.

  “Tha wah fah,” she said, smiling. She spit into the sink. “I was just going to take a shower.”

  I stared at her. “Don't,” I said softly. I reached into the shower and turned it off.

  Kate spit into the sink and used a towel to pat her mouth. “Okay...” she said.

  I stood behind her and breathed in the smell of her neck. It was sweaty, the scent of her skin mingled faintly with a foreign smell that could only be Kyle. I pushed her hair up and tasted her neck.

  I moved my hands around to her breasts, cupping them in my hands and enjoying the heavy weight of them as my thumbs brushed over her nipples. I looked into the mirror as I did. Kate's eyes were half-closed as I played with her tits, and her full, naked body was spectacular even in the light of the bathroom.

  I watched my hand in the mirror as I slid it down to her shaved pussy. My fingers dipped into the soaked folds of her dirty cunt, the wet stickiness of Kyle's cum coating my hands. The scent of her excitement and cum rose to my nostrils, but like her neck, it was soiled with the scent of another man. My cock throbbed against her back and I saw her mouth turn upward in a little smile.

  I pushed her forward on the counter and she pressed her hands to the mirror. I pressed my hand on her lower back and tilted her ass up as I did. She rose onto her tiptoes and panted with excitement as I pulled apart her assheeks and spread the lips of her pussy open. I watched with immense pleasure and a light loathing for my own perversion – also delightful – as a river of white cum trickled out from inside her.

  The counter of the bathroom was a long expanse of marble, cluttered with Kate Orel's things. I pushed them off with a swipe of my hand, and lifted reached for her knees with one hand and pushed her down to the counter with the other. In the end, she seemed to read my mind – the perverse thing that I wanted – and only with the slightest confusion did we arrive at the position I envisioned. Her ass was on display to the mirror, and I pulled at her asscheek to view her sodden cunt. I dipped my fingers into her folds, wetting them. I sank my whole hand inside of her, watching Kyle's sperm squelch from inside of her.

  And while I did this, she opened her mouth, and sucked on my cock. I placed on hand on her bobbing head, and my eyes moved frantically from one sight to the other: the back of her head as she sucked me, and my fingers, nearly my whole fist, deep in her stretched and used pussy, fucking the cum of another man out of her.

  I came inside her mouth, and she didn't pull away. She swallowed my cum, and I pulled my hand from inside of her to place it on the mirror and hold myself upright as my seed filled her filthy mouth.

  “Jesus,” I said, when my cock, still semi-hard, flopped out of her mouth.

  She sat up with a smile. She was on the counter, her feet dangling playfully. She pulled me close to her.

  She took my hand, the one covered in Kyle's cum and her own juices. She placed her tongue between my pinkie and ring finger, and ran it along the length of it to the fingertip.

  “I hope you're not done yet,” she complained.

  I looked down. Her other hand was slipping between her soaked folds, playing with her protruding clit. She spread her legs wider, and another gush of white cum beaded at her dirty center, and slid down to the counter.

  And incredibly, in front of that torrid scene, my own cock was twitching back to rock-hard readiness.

  She reached for it, and used the head, swollen with too much sensitivity to even bear what she was doing, to stroke herself to orgasm. I stared at the head of my cock, pressing against the shining nub of her clit, and beneath it, all of the pearly cum that oozed from inside of her.

  She threw her head back and gripped my cock fiercely when she came, and pushed herself forward. My cock sank into her flesh almost as if drawn into her cunt like a magnet. She was still pulsing with her orgasm, and dripping wet with her own cum.

  Kyle's cum.

  And soon, mine.

  I fucked her violently, grasping her ass and pushing myself inside of her. Incredibly, it was not long at all before we were both howling with another wild climax. I burst inside of her. She clutched me and slammed her hips against mine, pumping her pussy over my cock. “Don't stop yet,” she commanded, but she was the one who rode me until at last she came. I watched her as she did. Her sweaty, cum-stained skin, the heat of her body setting off the potent scent of sex.

  After she came, we clutched each other. She was still sitting on the counter. The bathroom was a mess. She looked around. “Wow,” she said.

  She kissed me. “That was hot.”

  I agreed, and it was true that I believed what I said.

  But I think maybe at that moment, a discomfort began to grow inside of me.

  Maybe it was when she stepped in the shower.

  Or maybe when I opened the door to leave, after she asked me to, to “keep up appearances.”

  But before I could put my finger on it, we were back home, and Kate Orel was back to being Kathy Banks.

  C HAPTER 8

  PRESENTr />
  Kate Orel went ahead to the convention, two days before me. I had stayed behind to watch one of the kids' important soccer tournaments and handle some business.

  It added to our cover, she had insisted. The “cover” that she was not my wife. That she was Kate Orel, single and ready for a good time.

  I called her the night she arrived, when, two hours after her flight landed, she had sent not even sent me a text about her arrival.

  No answer.

  I texted her, asking if she was okay. In return, I got only a quick and garbled text:

  [Kathy]: Kale on flies fr houses can't talking now

  [Me]: What????

  No response had come.

  Alone in our house in the suburbs, the kids already staying with the in-laws, I paced our home. My mind filled with every manner of paranoid thought. Why hadn't she called me? Had she actually gotten to her slutty man-fishing within moments of her arrival, and forgotten to just call me and tell me she had arrived?

  No. She had at least sent me a text. An infuriatingly auto-corrected garbage text that seemed almost like she had -

  I closed my eyes, and that same beautiful mixture of jealousy and excitement washed over me. The text seemed almost like she had typed it while she was severely distracted. Had her fingers been sliding over the screen keyboard, bumping the wrong letters with each thrust of whatever man she'd picked up in the first five minutes of her time there?

  What was she doing there, all alone and unsupervised?

  I called her and left a message, and then I resisted the urge to keep calling her by downing a whole bottle of wine myself. I wasn't going to look like a jealous, cuckolded jerk.

  After all, these were our rules. She could do what she liked.

  I was not going to get caught being as desperate as I actually felt.

  I did get on Skype. Just in case. I did stare at it, wild-eyed, as I downed part of a bottle of whiskey. Watching her unchanging status.

  I did this until three in the morning, which was five there, and then I gave up and fell asleep.

  A text was waiting for me in the morning.

  [Kate]: Call u tonight. Xoxox lots to tell this is going to be a good one

  I resisted the urge to throw my phone.

  I resisted the urge to call her right then.

  I waded through my day, making preparations to leave, my phone burning a hole in my pocket. I checked it thousands of times. As the evening approached my chest tightened to the point it was almost impossible to breathe.

  And I loved it. I loved not being able to get Kate Orel out of my mind.

  *

  At 7:05 the phone rang.

  “Hi,” I said, trying to sound casual. Trying not to start the conversation off the way I wanted to, by screaming about where the fuck she had been and who with and why she hadn't answered her goddam phone.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she purred. “I'm so sorry I didn't call you, but that was just...out of the blue.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “Kyle,” she said, as if I should know what she was talking about.

  “Kyle?” I repeated.

  “Didn't you get my text?” she said.

  I paused. “I got a text about kale.”

  Her turn to breathe questioningly into the phone. Then she gave a light laugh. “Oh, I see it now,” she said, her voice a little distant as she searched through her texts. She laughed again. “No, that was supposed to be: 'Kyle was on the flight from Houston, can't talk now.'”

  An instant icy cold moved toward the center of my body from my limbs. “Kyle,” I repeated.

  “I know,” she said, her own voice sounding a little incredulous. “It was...”

  “Fortuitous,” I offered.

  There was a pause.

  “I mean, actually,” she said. “Not really. I kind of wanted to...I don't know, do a little more exploring.”

  My cock twitched. I wasn't sure if it was out of relief that she didn't seem to want to drag things out with Kyle any further, or because she was literally telling me that she didn't want to fuck this one guy she already fucked, because she wanted to be more promiscuous.

  I sucked in my breath. “So...what ended up happening with Kyle?”

  Kate made a sound. I guess it is best described as a giggle. “Well,” she said. “That's uh...maybe why the text was so hard to read.”

  I felt cold in my stomach. My cock was stiff with excitement. The combination made me feel a lot like vomiting.

  “What?” I breathed.

  “Yeah. So, we talked on the plane,” she began. “Nothing big, just casual...”

  She let this linger for a moment. Did she know how wild she was making me?

  “And then, um...he was like, 'you want to share a cab?' and I couldn't really say no -”

  “He's staying at the Hilton, too?” I interjected. Christ, I thought those GreenPan jerks were going somewhere else.

  Kate made a noncommittal murmur. “It was hard to say no,” she said. Her tone ended with a little hint of a tease.

  A silence.

  “Say no to the cab,” I breathed. Fuck, my cock was throbbing now.

  “Well...the cab...other things...”

  “Like what other things?” I said hoarsely.

  “Things got a little...inappropriate in the cab. And then you texted. So I felt like I should write back. It just...was sort of hard to type.”

  A wave of jealousy came over me. I felt dizzy.

  “Why's that, Kathy?”

  “Mmmm...Kathy isn't here, remember?”

  I exhaled.

  “Kate.”

  A silence.

  “Why's that?” I repeated, when she said nothing.

  “Well, like I said, I wasn't all that keen on Kyle, but one thing led to another, and he put his hand on my leg, and then...I mean, he has these great hands. They're so big. His skin is always hot. And he just kind of moved them up, until next thing I knew he was finger-fucking me in the taxi.”

  “And that's when you sent the text?” I could barely get the words out. Imagining Kate, holding the phone in her hand, typing clumsily with half-closed eyes, while Kyle's big fingers probed her wet cunt and diddled her clit. I imagined his self-satisfied smirk as he watched her struggle to type to her husband while he made her body ripple with pleasure. His pleasure at finding her so wet and ripe and ready to go.

  “That's why it was so...hard to read,” Kate said.

  “Did he make you come?” I lunged forward, not caring anymore how desperate I sounded.

  “Of course he did,” she said. “And then...well, I thought it would be rude not to return the favor.”

  I bent over, because the pain of her words was too delicious and intense to take standing up.

  “I was on Skype,” I said. “Why didn't you call?”

  Kate was quiet. “I'm sorry about that...it just wasn't logistically possible.”

  Another silence.

  “What's that supposed to mean?” I said. Jealousy was taking over now, looming larger than anything else I was feeling.

  Kate sighed. “Honey, I don't know...it just didn't happen. We went to the bathroom at the hotel bar, because things happened so fast -”

  “You fucked in the bathroom?”

  “No,” Kate said, with another disbelieving laugh. “I just gave him a little...you know...”

  “Handjob?”

  “Uh...no, I mean...more than that...”

  “Did you suck his cock?”

  Kate hesitated. “Well...yeah...anyway, and then we ran into a bunch of people at the bar-”

  “A bunch of people like who?” I could hardly believe my own question. Just glazing over a blowjob like it was nothing. But there was more sweet jealousy embedded in this story somewhere, and I wanted to get at it.

  “Some friends of his, Mike was there. It was hard to...I don't know, say, 'hey let's go upstairs to my room and by the way before we do anything I have to set my laptop up.' You know?”

 
Sure. That made sense. But it wouldn't stop my jealousy now.

  “So then what happened?”

  “Well,” Kate said. “I did end up just going back to Kyle's room, but I think I have another guy on the hook,” she said. Her voice was whispery and devious.

  Who was this woman?

  My head was spinning. “You went back to Kyle's...and who is this guy?”

  “I don't know. I don't even know his name yet.”

  I burned from the inside out.

  “And you fucked Kyle again.”

  “I did. And I'll tell you all about it when you get here. I promise. But right now I have to go see if I can flutter around and get the guy I really want.”

  The guy I really want. My insides liquified.

  “And what's so great about this guy?” I said weakly.

  “You'll see. I dunno. He just has...charisma or something.”

  “Young? Old? Hot? What is it?”

  “You'll see,” she said. “Okay, I have to go.” She kissed the phone. “I can't wait to see you,” she said.

  “I love you,” I replied. Then, “Kate! Make sure you Skype.”

  But she was already saying: “I love you, too.” And then the call ended.

  I sat staring at my phone long after she hung up.

  Had she said “I love you” with the same tone as always? Was it just one of those perfunctory “I love you, too's” that everyone seemed to say after enough years of marriage?

  Or had it been even more hurried than that? Had she heard my last request? Had she deliberately ignored it?

  I closed my eyes. I pictured Kyle's fat fingers plunging into my wife's pussy, under her panties, in the back of a cab. I pictured her slightly parted lips, her hushed gasps of pleasure. I pictured her sliding down the front of his body and onto her knees in the bar restroom. Her eyes widening with pleasure as she took out his big cock – it was bigger than she remembered, it barely fit in her hand as she grasped it and pointed the end of it toward her lips. I imagined her opening her mouth and slipping the head of it inside. Her lips closing around it, forming a seal, sucking the gushing, salty precum right out of his cock. After all, she'd had enough practice with Kyle. She could probably make him come in a matter of seconds.