Twenty minutes is a long time to sit in a functionally bare government office, without a computer or a phone, thinking about what you know your wife is doing at that moment. My thoughts began mildly enough: images of Jordan with the handsome man, her face close to his and her eyes bright with interest as he told her about his job or his yacht or his portfolio (this guy looked like that kind of guy). Jordan's soft cheek getting scratched by the five o'clock shadow on his aristocratic jaw, as she leaned close to him to hear some flirtatious secret. Jordan's pretty lips forming a smile as her fingertip brushed over the bulge in his expensive suit pants and she imagined how big that same cock would be if it were hard, in her hand. If she tugged it and pulled it closer to her mouth...
I broke when I thought of Jordan bending over the bathroom counter, her hands on the mirror, looking at her own wild face as Mr. Good-Looking slowly, slowly inched his fat cock inside of her.
“I have to use the john,” I said, to no one in particular, and I strode to the men's room on our floor.
I locked myself behind a bathroom door and jerked out my phone. I waited with an increasingly hard cock and a sweltering impatience as it turned back on.
There were five messages from Jordan.
I stared at the list, wondering if by opening them I was going to cross over some line from here to there, and if everything would be changed after this. My stomach twisted cruelly. I started to feel that cold burn going through me. Three images. Would one of them be of something I didn't want to see? Or that I did want to see?
I opened them one at a time, in chronological order, wanting to drag out my delicious suffering.
I think he might have a big cock.
I stared at the screen. Jordan, Jordan. A wave of ecstasy went through me and crashed against the sharp pain she was causing me. I shivered. Of course this was exactly what I wanted her to do, I had practically begged her to do it...but I couldn't help feel something like a slip, a sensation that I was losing control. I mean, did she have to be so fucking into it?
At the same time, something fluttered around inside of me hoping she would only get lewder.
The next message.
He does.
I imagined all the ways she could get this information, From the very PG (she saw a big bulge when she looked down) to the worst (she stuffed the whole thing in her mouth and sucked his cum down her throat while he balled her hair up in his fist and used her mouth like a rubber doll).
I shuddered again.
I stared at the next message: an image, only waiting to be opened. My stomach felt like ice, my chest was burning...or was it the other way around?
I steadied myself on the stall.
I opened the image.
It took a moment for me to figure out what it was, and perhaps Jordan knew that it would be hard for me to understand. She had captioned the image: This is how hot this guy is.
And then it was clear: I was looking at the damp white fabric of her thong underwear, between her legs. Yes: right where her juicy cunt would open up the material was soaked through to a dark cream color.
I unbuckled my pants and took out my cock. Now I was dizzy, and I wasn't going to make it through the rest of the evening without releasing this energy. I started to stroke myself as I used my left hand to swipe clumsily to the next message.
I've done something naughty.
Another image.
I opened it.
Very very dark. I squinted.
Jordan, thoughtful girl, had captioned it as well. I took off my panties.
The image seemed to clear itself up: yes, there it was. Jordan's bare snatch, between her legs, poorly lit because she was no longer in the bathroom but out at the bar, or the restaurant.
Or was she in a taxi, headed to a hotel?
I was so close to coming. I swiped at the phone as I pumped my cock furiously, and the message appeared but I barely caught the first words before, in my shaking, draining, fevered lust, the phone slipped out of my hand and fell.
Right into the fucking toilet.
What I had managed to read of the message was burned into my mind, though.
I hope you don't mind that -
“Fuck!” I hissed. But I couldn't be bothered to worry about it at that moment. Only what it might have said. I hope you don't mind that I fucked him. I hope you don't mind if I suck his big cock. I hope you don't mind that I let him stroke my clit in the back seat of a taxi.
I hope you don't mind. I've done something naughty. I took off my panties. Look how wet they were, just thinking about this great big cock, on this hot young man...I hope you don't mind I went ahead and let him show me all ten inches of it and then I couldn't help myself...
I had the presence of mind to come into a wad of toilet paper. I almost gave myself a stroke trying not to yell.
“Paddy?” Doug called, as I was standing there panting. “You okay in here? People are asking where you are.”
I stared at the ceiling. “Yeah. Yeah man, I just...fuck, I dropped my fucking phone in the toilet.”
A pause.
“Hate that,” Doug said dryly, and let the door swing shut with no further comment.
I almost wrecked the car driving home. I feel sure of it, but hen, I barely remember driving back home. The only thing in my field of vision were the lewd images I was creating. My imagination became filthier and filthier, and Jordan more and more of cheating, dirty whore, with every passing mile on the interstate. I was shaking when I got home. I had an erection, I was sick, I was buzzing with more energy than I had ever had in my life.
I was relieved that Jordan’s car was in the garage, but just as quickly as I was relieved, I remembered that she played many a game with that car – and I had never asked her about any of it, not wanting to reveal what a stalking, scary husband I had been before I confronted her.
I glanced at Olivia, perched in her usual spot with a bowl of cereal precariously mounted on her knees. She barely looked at me. I stumbled to the bedroom, looking for Jordan.
No Jordan.
“Where's Jordan?” I practically growled at Olivia.
Olivia looked up at me. “I thought you knew,” she said plainly.
“I dropped my phone...she hasn't called you?”
Olivia made a face. “Just to babysit. Why don't you call her or something? Your phone totally broke?”
She looked amused.
I wondered how much Olivia knew, or sensed, about what was going on here. Her face was smug, as though she had insight on the whole thing.
But Olivia was not my problem. My problem was my wife.
What if she had been trying to tell me something, and I hadn't gotten the message? What if she had gone to the hotel with that guy? What if she was under his body right now, taking his big cock inside of her, moaning and screaming on the bed and screeching with every hard thrust? What if he was coming all over her big tits as I stood here in my kitchen, and what if Jordan had been sending me messages?
I'm going to rub his cock between my tits, is that okay?
I'm going to go all the way, text me if it's not cool.
Okay...here I go then.
I stomped back to the study. I paced. There was a way to send Jordan messages from the internet, I knew of that – but no way to receive them back that I knew of.
It hit me like a load of bricks, and if I hadn't been so twisted up inside, I might have found it funny:
One could, after all, call a phone.
I frantically dialed her number. It seemed like eternities that the phone rang and rang. Maybe it was only once. Twice. I have no idea.
“Olivia? Everything okay?” Jordan's voice sounded normal. Cheerful.
“It's me.” I, on the other hand, sounded like a fucking madman.
“Paddy? What are you -”
“I dropped my phone, it's broken, I didn't get all of your messages.”
A pause.
Was it a long pause? A pause of regret? Regret for what she had done,
or for what she didn't do?
“Hmmm,” she purred. Her voice was sexy and coy now. “That's too, too bad.”
“What did you do?” I croaked.
There was another pause. “I'm almost home,” she breathed.
And then the phone went dead.
ANOTHER FIRST
“So where did you leave off?”
Jordan was still wearing her black dress. This fucking dress, that cut almost to her sternum and displayed her breasts in all of their magnificent glory. I looked her over, trying to decide if she'd taken that dress off and put it back on. If it was stained, or wet, or crumpled.
She had her hand on her hip, and I could see from her face that she was enjoying herself. It was a new expression for her, one that had been creeping onto her face lately, since this whole thing started.
Or was it before that? Maybe Jordan had been changing all along, and now she was in the final stages of her bloom into a hyper-sexual woman.
Whatever. This made me nervous, I don't mind saying, like I had a wild animal on my hands. But there was no denying that I was winning in another way. My arteries felt so full of new, vigorous blood I could barely stand.
“The panties,” I said. “No. Just...just start from the beginning.”
Another man had approached her in the beginning. I could only imagine. But she had caught the attention of her mark, and he was a competitive guy, a finance guy, the kind of guy who wasn't going to lose out on a hot woman to another man.
“How did you get his attention?”
Jordan touched her dress, along the line that plunged between her breasts. “I have my ways.”
She certainly did. I looked her up and down. It was hard to imagine where Jordan could go that she would not be the most stunning woman there. Sure, there were younger women, maybe even prettier women, but Jordan's silky, cherry hair, and her enormous tits, were too unusual for her not to stand out. I suddenly realized what I had on my hands: an ultra-hot wife, and when she was dressed like this, she was the woman every man wanted to fuck.
He had come over, bought her a drink.
“And when did you notice his big cock?”
Jordan smiled. She gave her hair a toss. “So you liked that message.”
We were still standing about ten feet away from each other. I kept the distance because I wanted to look at her as though I was watching her from a distance. She kept the distance, I knew, because she enjoyed teasing me. She was getting off on this as much as I was. I could tell by the flush on her cheeks.
“Did you touch him?”
“Not at first.”
Jordan's face was smiling as she watched my reaction. She knew exactly how her words would twist inside of me.
“I was attracted to him, right away. A lot of them I'm not so much. But he was...”
“Hot.”
“Hot,” she mused. “And...had a really, I don't know. Dominating personality.”
“And a big cock.”
She smiled.
“So I knew you would like to know about that. I excused myself and went to the ladies.' And that's where I took my first picture...” She moved closer to me now, swinging her hips, using her body even at that distance to stroke my cock. Closer still. “I took that photo, and then I decided that I wanted to take it a little further. I figured you would want me to.” She stepped even closer, and now I could smell her skin. She was giving off heat like a radiator, and the scent of her skin and her pussy were faint but there. She reached for my tie, and pulled me to her. We were just a foot away from each other now. “Did you? Did you like that I took it one step further than that?”
I remembered the picture of her bare snatch, dark and unclear though it was. I imagined her in this skin-tight dress, with no panties on, next to the man whose “dominating personality” she was so attracted to.
I could barely breathe. I just shook my head. No, I didn't mind that she took it to the next step.
Jordan just smiled.
“Was that your naughty thing?” I whispered.
“The panties?” Jordan asked. She looked up at the ceiling as though she needed to consider it. Why was she so fucking good at this?
Who cared?
She rested her arms on my shoulders and drew herself closer to me. “Do you want it to be? Do you want the panties to be the only naughty thing I did?” She was whispering this against my neck, and her voice was slicing through me. My cock bounced around as though it were another being entirely.
Jordan moved her hand down, into my pants, and grasped it. “I think you wanted me to do something very naughty? Is that right?”
I hope you don't mind that -
She dropped her other hand and unbuttoned my pants. She slid down my body and took my pants and boxers with her. My cock sprang out, hard as a rock. She smiled.
“What naughty thing do you wish I had done, Paddy?” she asked. “Tell me.”
I looked at her. I didn't care, really, that the tables seemed to be getting turned on me. I sucked in my breath. She was looking up at me, expectantly, awaiting the instruction to show me how she would do something naughty with another man. She trailed her fingers over her dress.
“Did you want me to suck his cock and let him come all over my tits?”
An image flashed through my mind, of the man from the picture groaning as his seed splattered all over the pale skin nestled inside the drastic “v” of Jordan's dress. She took my gasp as an affirmation, and smiled. But instead of moving toward me, as she usually did, to grasp my cock and guide it to her mouth, she slid further to the floor, and turned her head up to me. She opened her mouth into a perfect, inviting “o.” The message was clear: she was inviting me, not to get my cock sucked, but to fuck her mouth.
Is that what she had done with her man at the bar?
I moved forward, and straddled her, so that my cock was above her open mouth and pointed directly down at her. Did I really want to fuck my wife like this?
As though she was reading my mind, she looked at me and gave me her devious flash of the eye. Encouragement. “This is the naughty thing I did,” she said, and her voice was a mixture of taunting and invitation.
I grasped her by the back of the head, my finger slipping in her silky hair, and pulled her up as I dropped down, and I filled her round red mouth my cock. My mind, however, played the image of the day trader, his fancy shirt open and revealing his toned abs, pummeling her mouth like I was. But his cock was far bigger, and he went all the way into her throat, puffing her neck up with bulge of his giant member. His balls crushed against her chin. He slammed into her as she sat there taking it.
It wasn't long before I could feel myself coming. I slid from Jordan's mouth, and she followed my cue brilliantly, rising up a little and pulling aside the edges of her dress to bare her magnificent tits for me as my cum splashed all over her.
I tugged on Jordan's hair, and guided her to the bed. There was no way I was going to leave her unsatisfied. I pushed her onto the bed, and she draped herself over the edge, her ass to me. I pulled her ass cheeks apart and dove into her soaked flesh, finding her clit with my tongue. Her scent was overwhelming: tangy, sweet. She was soaked, and her own arousal dripped down the sides of her thighs.
I found her hard clit with my tongue, and felt her shudder when I pressed against it. I lapped at her and she howled into the sheets and squeezed me into her sopping flesh. I slid my tongue along her slit and up to her ass, partly to be able to breathe, but the way she squirmed and cried into the sheets only served to turn me on again. I could feel my cock getting hard. I remembered the silky feel of her flesh inside her ass. The heat of it. The tightness.
I moved back to her clit, and teased her some more. Then back along her taint, up to the rim of her ass. I had drawn her sweet juices with me and they were slick over her asshole. I darted my tongue inside of her. A light metallic tang surprised my tongue, but when her body seized up in my hands I shuddered in delight. I went in again.
I made another trip from her clit to her ass, and plunged a little deeper inside of her. She tossed her head on the bed and spread her legs further for me. Again, I wiggled the tip of my tongue on her clit until I felt her abdomen harden, felt her getting close, and then I trailed my mouth back to her ass. I loved that she was mine to control this way; her body hardening and then collapsing at my whim.
But my cock was hard now, throbbing against my leg. I rose up on my knees, and was pleased to find that this position was perfect: Jordan's ass was right here for me, glistening with my spit and her own juices.
I drew a fingerful of her excitement up to her ass, and swirled it around her anus. Then I pressed my thumb inside of her. She gasped, but she opened up for me.
“Would you have liked his big fat cock inside of you?' I said. I pushed inside of her pussy anyway, not waiting for the answer.
Jordan lifted her head and squealed. I treated her to a few thrusts, just to make her pant and twist on the sheets, but when I felt her nearing an orgasm I slowed and withdrew, an inch at a time.
“Would you let him fill your ass up?” I said, pressing the tip of my cock against her asshole.
Jordan didn't answer, but she pressed against me, and it was she herself who moved to push my cock inside of her.
I watched as my cock disappeared into her ass. I imagined her hot pink flesh, her most intimate hole, and then my mind imagined seeing this from across the room. Seeing another cock, a bigger cock, disappear inside of her. As I had with Olivia, before I knew it was Olivia.
I reached for her hair and pulled her onto my lap as I sat down on my heels. Her body fell onto my cock, sheathing it completely. She bit into my hand and screamed. Then she began to move her hips up and down.
“That's it,” I growled. “Show me how you would ride his cock.”
My own words sent a jolt through me, and I felt myself building up to another orgasm.
I found her clit with my fingers, and pressed against her. I didn't need to move much: her own bouncing brought her to climax. My other hand was on her mouth, and she bit my fingers again. Her body spasmed, her ass clenched against my cock, and I felt a trickle of her warm cum sliding down to her ass and my balls.
A Well-Laid Trap: The Story Of A Professional Hotwife Page 14