“I think we’ve been quite lucky,” she said. “Fans want to see the weird combination of the Ponytails and Blue Tonic—it’s more than just the sum of its parts.”
“What does it matter?” he asked her, slipping his hand down into her panties, feeling the softness of her flesh over her mound, his fingers dipping into her moistening folds. “The show was a success, and the tour will be, too. You’re going to have an unbelievably great time…”
“But you won’t be here,” she complained.
“I’ll be with you sometimes. Often enough.”
Slowly, taking his time, he stroked her pussy with one hand, then the other, kissing her tenderly. She was able to reach behind her, to stroke him, to seek out the bulge in his undershorts, to take hold of it in her hand.
“You won’t even notice I’m gone,” he said with a dry smile.
“I will.”
“You’ll be so wrapped up in Daryl and his big, hard cock.”
One hand inside his undershorts, she felt him hardening up as he mentioned her spending time with her new lover. It never ceased to amaze her how he could feel that way about her taking pleasure from someone else.
She turned to face him, kissing him again so sweetly, and now she pulled off his t-shirt, then peeled down his boxer shorts to reveal his thickening cock. Perhaps it was a little smaller than Daryl’s, perhaps not. It was familiar, though, and she loved it.
“I’ll have Daryl,” she said, running her hands down his chest, then slowly dropping down to her knees in front of him to take in the sight of his bare body, his exposed manhood.
“And Renee,” Julian grinned.
“And Renee,” she nodded. “But you won’t have anyone—you’ll be all alone on the other side of the country.”
He smiled as she took hold of his cock in one hand, holding onto his hip with the other for support. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth, and it just felt exquisite.
He said, “I don’t need anybody else. You know it’s always been about you.”
She looked up at him, her mouth full of his cock, her eyes grateful and touched at his selflessness.
But his smile said it wasn’t all selflessness. “You know what a turn-on it is for me,” he said as she sucked on him, slowly bobbing down on his length. “I’m going to be at home thinking about my gorgeous wife being all naughty and sexy and doing all kinds of things with another guy. It won’t be so bad for me.”
“I’ll tell you… everything… that happens…” she promised, in between mouthfuls of his cock.
“And that’s all I’ll need.”
He helped her up off the floor, and now led her to the bedroom, urged her down to lie across the bed, her legs draped over the edge of the mattress. She lay back as he knelt between her thighs, touching his mouth gently to her sex.
For an age and a day he licked her, he lapped at her tangy, addictive nectar, he mapped out the topography of her pussy in rich detail with his tongue. They had time, they weren’t in any real rush. Kat leaned back and enjoyed it, less worried now about the whys and the wherefores, more able to let it go and just enjoy the fact that her husband was now obsessed with her pussy—much more so than before, when she had been true to him.
Julian simply indulged, soaking his entire face with her wetness, adoring that this was her pussy, this was where she had accepted another man—this was the heart of her adultery.
Then, at last, he was up on his feet and sliding his full thickness into her wet, puffy pussy, squeezing his hips to slowly thrust into her, filling his naughty wife, then withdrawing, then filling her again.
“Oh God… oh God…” she moaned, her body rocking back and forth as he fucked her slowly and sensually. He didn’t need to go fast, she was so tuned up by her weekend of solid sex.
Was it different now that she’d been with another? To some degree, they both would have had to say it was. Yet only in a good way. They seemed to notice each other more, they seemed to respond to each other with new eyes, as though starting their relationship from scratch. The knowledge that she had been unfaithful just increased Julian’s hunger for his wife tenfold—and her appreciation for him, and what he was giving her, meant the same the other way.
Husband and wife were no longer cutting sex short, no longer speeding things up and making it all as efficient as possible. They took their time, they slowed things down, they appreciated each other with all their senses.
And though their pace was slow, the intensity of their orgasms when they finally hit was beyond compare.
*
In the morning, everyone was at the airport. The band was raring to go, to build on the success of LA with a fantastic show up in San Francisco.
Julian had to split from them after security, but despite facing a flight across the country alone, back to home in good old suburban Kingston, after a final embrace and a passionate PDA-style kiss with his wife, he had the pleasure of watching her step away from him only to be enveloped by the arms of another man.
He walked slowly away from them, backwards, offering them a wave here and there until he was out of sight around the corner. But he saw Kat turn her head, tilt her face up to Daryl—and he saw them kiss. It wasn’t just a little polite peck, it was the kiss of lovers.
Julian was hard all the way home, it seemed.
And now, he had the promise of his wife going wild throughout a whole tour to keep him company while he waited to see her again.
<<< >>>
Author’s Note
This story started out as something of a collaboration between myself (hello!) and my fellow erotica author Kenny Wright. The two of us ended up switching to a different project—one that’s less of a slow-build, and so more suitable for the kind of collaborative writing we’ve been undertaking—but I would like to start out by thanking Kenny for his invaluable ideas and other assistance on this particular story.
I would say my writing style is similar enough to Kenny’s to make our kind of alternating-chapters collaboration feasible enough without distracting the reader too much with jarring shifts in narrative voice. Experts might be able to spot a little of Kenny’s writing in some of the very early chapters of Rock Her World, but to be honest I can’t even remember myself which is which, unless I stumble across something obvious like a rogue Britishism that somehow escaped the editing process—a classic sign of my own work—or some clever or sumptuous piece of writing that I feel couldn’t have come from my own finger tips.
What has very definitely survived the early collaborative stage of this story has been the third person point of view, and the switching between Kat’s and Julian’s perspective from chapter to chapter. Usually when I write a shared wife story, I’d write from the husband’s point of view, because as a husband myself that is the experience that I am most interested in exploring.
Occasionally I’ll write third person, which can allow a little more flexibility in the telling of a story, sometimes at the expense of drawing out the personal feelings experienced. I’m not usually one for switching perspective. However, on this occasion I think it worked well enough, and there were certainly benefits in capturing scenes the husband would not be a party to, and in seeing something of how both lead characters see the development of events in the story. I’d be interested in how you, the reader, found it. It’s something I’d do again, I’m sure—but then it’s also possible that Kat and Jules’s story from Rock Her World could lead to a sequel as we follow The Ponytails on tour. I’m not usually one for sequels, but this one feels very possible (I know, I’ve said that about stories before and have failed to find the right narrative arc for a sequel, so you’ll have to bear with me on this one).
Anyway, I hope you’ve enjoyed Rock Her World. Rock music’s always been a part of my life, and what’s not to love with a hot guitarist getting worked up on stage?
As always, none of this could be achieved without my team of dedicated editors and beta readers, which included Anjali, Dan, Ian, Jay and
Robert on this occasion, so thank you to them for finding all those spelling and grammar howlers, and spotting where characters’ underwear changes color halfway through sleeping with a hot drummer, and so on. Thanks also to my own wife, who isn’t in a band but, nevertheless, she rocks my world.
Max Sebastian
London, August 2017
[email protected]
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Her Dirty Little Secret — a 43,000-word novella of horny hotwives and sexy swingers…
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About the Author
Max Sebastian is a thirty-something writer, author and occasional journalist who lives in London with his wife and two young children. He has been writing erotica for more than 15 years, starting out at the website Literotica.com before joining the indie publishing revolution in late 2011.
You can find Max online at MaxSebastian.net, on Twitter @MaxSebastian, on Facebook at facebook.com/writermax, and on GoodReads at goodreads.com/maxsebastian.
And, you’re always very welcome to contact Max and share your views, by emailing [email protected].
Also by Max Sebastian
Available via MaxSebastian.net
Novels
Anarchy of the Heart
Submitting to Her
Madeleine Wakes
Madeleine Plays
Madeleine Strays
What’s Mine is Yours
What’s Yours is Mine
A Killer of a One Night Stand
She’s a Star
The Game
Heidi, Corrupted
His Week With My Wife
Hotwife Hall Pass
Novellas
My Wife, The Seductress
A Calculated Affair
Her Dirty Little Secret
Short Stories
Wives with Benefits: Volume One
Wives with Benefits: Volume Two
Writing with Kenny Wright:
Out of His League
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Web: MaxSebastian.net/his-week-with-my-wife
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