Body Of Research: An Experiment In Hotwifing

by Arnica Butler

  Then, to my disappointment but also excitement (for what might come next), Darren slid his hand back up and along her back until he had both of his hands on her head. He used both hands to push her head down, and ram his cock deep into her throat.

  Jen pulled away, gasping for breath. He pulled her hair so her face turned up at him.

  Her lipstick and makeup were smeared and watery. A long thread of saliva clung to her lips and hung suspended in the air between her mouth and his cock for a moment, before it sank to the bed. I wished desperately that I could hear what he was saying to her, because Jen stared into his eyes and nodded.

  Then she was back on his cock again, all the way to the base. Darren used both of his hands to push her head up and down the length of his shaft.

  I was so distracted by the lewdness of this act that I didn't notice that Jen's hands were sliding down her torso and to her ass. When I did, I felt a shudder go through me that almost made me splatter my cum all over the inside of the Yeti costume. She hooked her hands around her panties, and slid them down to her knees as Darren pumped her face over his cock. Then she placed her hands, palms against her asscheeks, on her ass.

  I stood up, unaware that I was doing so. I stood up just in time to see what appeared to be my wife's finger sliding into her asshole.

  I went cold again with a terrible feeling.

  This wasn't my wife.

  Had Darren ordered her to do it?

  And was she enjoying it? This was the sort of thing she never did...

  And then an even more enraging, delicious feeling swept over me: Jen didn't even know I was watching her. Maybe she was unleashing some kind of sexual beast inside of her because she thought I couldn't see her.

  This went on for a minute or so. Darren pushing and pulling on her head with both hands, while she drew and plunged her own finger out of and into her ass.

  And then, suddenly, Darren pulled her up to her knees and climbed onto the bed. He pulled on her to turn her face up to him and sucked her mouth up inside of his. The kiss was violent, dominating...and Jen's fingers were still in her own ass.

  I watched as Darren's hands found her tits and squeezed her nipples.

  The man was violating my wife. Manhandling her, throwing her around like a rubber fuck-toy.

  My cock was so hard I couldn't stand it.

  They changed position at that point. Darren threw her onto the bed with her head at the headboard. I watched with a painful cock as he pushed her lean legs up to the headboard, splayed akimbo. Incredibly, Jen had kept her fingers in her ass, and now I could see it clearly, with her legs spread open. Her cunt glistened with excitement.

  Darren was on his knees now, standing over her. He had his cock in his hand, and his mouth was moving to instruct Jen, my slutty wife, in what to do next.

  And Jen? She was just staring at him, letting him order her, staring at his cock as it neared her pussy.

  She spread her legs wider, and looked down as Darren guide the tip of his cock to her pussy. He rubbed his thick head over her clit. The head of his cock looked frightening against her small little button and the tiny black hole in the enter of her stretched cunt.

  Jen turned and tossed her head on the bed, but as per his instructions (I assumed), she left her hands beneath her own weight and held her legs open and up. I watched her back arch and then, at last, through the glass of the window, I could hear her squealing as Darren stroked her clit until she came.

  Darren stood over my wife, enjoying his view of her writhing body and her gushing cunt. When she came, her legs began to flail wildly, so he had caught them in his hands and closed his fingers around her ankles.

  As she panted and moaned, still shuddering with her climax, Darren spread her legs slowly apart, pushing them as slowly toward the headboard. Jen's legs were still encased in her thigh-high stockings and her feet were still in her black hooker shoes.

  The effect was intoxicating.

  I felt around on my costume – I knew with futility – for some way to tuck my hand inside and grasp my aching cock. At this point I didn't feel that I could stand another moment of torture.

  But I would have to. Darren brought his dick to the opening of my wife's cunt, and one inch at a time while Jen squealed and strained against his grip on her ankles, his thick black cock disappeared inside of her.

  He fucked her slowly at first. Jen's eyes were squeezed shut and she was biting her lip, evidently having a hard time taking his fat cock inside of her. I watched as it slid down deeper, deeper, and then finally disappeared completely inside of my wife.

  Darren seemed to be in no hurry. She twisted her ankles in discomfort as he rocked slowly into her pussy. I could hear her low wailing as he worked her up with his gentle thrusts.

  Then she opened her eyes. Her mouth opened wide in pleasure.

  I stared as Darren then began to fuck my wife like a rag doll. He pistoned in and out of her, all the way to the tip of his cock, then ramming the full length of his huge shaft deep inside of her. She let go over her ass and pressed her hands against the headboard to prevent herself from being fucked right through the wall.

  I heard her voice again, rising up through the glass. She was shrieking in short bursts each time Darren's cock was buried in her pussy. His fucking and her shrieking got faster and faster, and then she screamed until her voice cut off as she very clearly rocketed to a shattering second orgasm.

  Darren thrust, then he lifted his head and his jaw muscles went tight. I stared down at his cock buried in my wife as it pumped his load inside of her.

  It seemed to last for an eternity, this emptying of his seed into her cunt. Jen's legs had gone limp and he released them. They fell to the bed, on either side of his still-buried cock. He gave a final thrust, and then sat back on his knees, sliding his still-hard cock from inside of her.

  I stared as they both smiled. As their bodies moved toward each other and they gave a lighthearted kiss to each other. A kiss that was amicable. Then they sort of lingered on each other's lips. I could see Jen's mouth moving, then his. Smiles. Smiles and, probably some self-congratulatory exchange between them about how good they were at fucking each other. How hot they were – because they were.

  My stomach was boiling with jealousy. I felt like it would erupt up and out of my mouth.

  Jesus. Did they have to do this for such a long time? Jen had her hand on his head now, rubbing the smooth shaved crown affectionately.

  Affectionately.

  Another exchange of smiles. Another wet, slurpy kiss.

  And then Darren hopped up. He stood in front of the bed and looked down at his phone as he typed something. Jen swiped at his hand playfully, and then rolled over, laughing by looks of it. I watched as Darren put on his jeans. My wife was lying on the bed, on her stomach. He gave her a playful slap on the ass and she smiled, but continued with what she was doing.

  Typing on her own phone.

  My mind started to reel. Darren opened the door and left, and Jen was still there, typing. Was she so obsessed, so converted to slut-dom that she was looking for another date?

  I went hot and cold with rage. I watched her sit up and pull her tube top up and over her breasts. She looked at her phone again. Typed again.

  She adjusted the bottom of her skirt, and stood up, pulling her panties from the floor and tugging them up and under her dress. I saw now that she was frowning a little.

  What was she thinking?

  She held the phone to her ear. Calling someone.

  It was only then that I connected the mild buzzing on the ground with what was happening. I looked down at the ground. My phone was in the mulched hedging. Buzzing.

  She was calling me.

  “Jen,” I said, breathlessly, answering.

  “Where are you?” she said. Her voice seemed strained.

  I stood up and looked in at the window. She had her arm crossed over her torso.

  “I did it,” she said. Her voice had a confessional tone, and
almost seemed to break apart, “Where are you?” She sounded mildly desperate.

  I tapped on the window.

  Her eyes flew up to where I was, standing by the window.

  Her mouth fell open slightly.

  “I did it,” she repeated. She gave a wane smile. I could see now that guilt was slowly creeping over her face. And I don't mind saying, it sort of thrilled me.

  I said nothing. I just enjoyed the perverse pleasure of watching her squirm a little. Just for a little bit. She had been so confident, it was somehow beautiful to see her uncertainty.

  “Did you see it?” she said.

  I waited, letting her worry build a little.

  “It was perfect, honey,” I said finally, and my cock throbbed as a look of relief fluttered over her face.

  “I don't know...” she said. “Did you see everything?”

  “Almost everything.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “Honey,” I said. “It was...it's fine. It's what I asked you to do.”

  She smiled at me. It sent another crippling rush through me, to see that I still had some control over her. God, it was a little fucked up, I know that. But it felt good to see her thrown off her vampy, confident stride a little. Hesitating, a little more like the wife I knew so well, before all of this.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let's get home.”

  And then, contrite Jen disappeared from her face. She gave me a wicked smile. I watched as she opened her legs and slid her fingers underneath the soaked white cotton of her panties. Those conservative white panties under that slutty fish costume. She dipped her fingers into her own slit, and brought them to her mouth. I stared, incapable of doing much else besides breathing heavily into the phone, as my wife closed her lips around the tips of her fingers. Her fingers coated in her cum and the dank semen of her departed lover.

  “Meet you down the block,” she said. “I have to go clean myself up a little bit.”

  The call ended as she pressed the screen of her phone, rose up to her full, slutty height, and turned to open the door and disappear into the house. I could barely walk through the backyard with my hard-on, and I stumbled into more than one person. Luckily it was Halloween, I had my Yeti head on, and I was snug and anonymous in my costume, as I made my way down the street to wait for my wife and her dripping, unfaithful pussy to come back to me.

  It was when I got into the car that it began to sink in. The thing we had actually done. The cold, hard pain of it.

  I looked out the window of the car.

  It was then that I was aware of my hands on my cock, pumping furiously and getting nowhere. Nothing was changing, no orgasm was building: just a low, painful throb of desire that wouldn't go away.

  I squinted at the windshield. The crack, left days ago by a rock, wasn't there anymore.

  Days ago…

  What day was it? Did it even make sense that it was Halloween? Already?

  A slew of missed appointments and deadlines went through my mind.

  And then I looked over. Jen was in the passenger seat, wearing a completely different costume, her finger in her mouth. She was slurping something off her finger, licking it like a lollypop.

  My Yeti hand was still around my cock.

  “I just had to go back for more,” Jen said, laughing.

  She was wearing next to nothing. Straps of black that didn't even cover her shaved pussy.

  She laughed and licked more cum from her fingers.

  I just had to go back for more… for more… for more...

  C hapter 11

  AWAKE

  I woke up with a start.

  The sheets were soaked through with sweat. Without even reaching down to confirm it, I could feel my hard cock pounding with the adrenaline that had just surged through me. In spite of the shock of the dream, and waking from it, and the cold fear that had surged through me, I was still aroused as hell. The dream had been so real, so full of banal detail, so lucid, that I felt like I had lived it. Right to the crushing end.

  I rolled over and rested my hand on Jen's body. She was breathing slowly with the deep, calm breaths of a sleeping person. I let my hand rest on her side for a bit to confirm that she was there, safely asleep in her regular ratty nightshirt, not a “Naughty Nemo” costume. She was snoring softly, not laughing at me.

  And then I rolled over, and spooned her.

  My cock responded to the heat of her body by getting even more riled. The scent of her neck was pungent, sweet and sleepy. I pushed her hair from her skin and pressed my nose against the slightly damp skin just above the muscle of her shoulders.

  I looked over to the clock. 5:00 am.

  Jen was going to be very angry at me. Very angry at me indeed, if I woke her up from a deep sleep and tried to have sex with her.

  But the haunting, searing memories of my dream, so realistic and so wildly erotic, would not disappear from my mind. My hand moved up her chest, beneath the fabric of her shirt, until I found the swell of her breasts. I swiped my hand across the center of her tits, just grazing her nipples, coaxing them into hard little balls. They pebbled for me, and then I grasped her breasts in my hand, kneading the soft flesh and thinking about the details of my dream: Jen's mouth stretched open for big black cock, taking it all the way down her throat.

  I moved my hand down. A shiver went through me when I reached the cotton of her panties: I remembered catching a glimpse of her white cotton panties before I had gone to sleep. That's why they had made their way into my dream: beneath her Naughty Nemo costume, down around her ankles, her knees, then back against the shaved skin of her pussy and soaking up another man's cum.

  I slipped my fingers into the folds of her pussy. She stirred against my body, and gave out a little moan.

  Her cunt was not dripping with the cum of another man, but it was wet and hot. Whatever Jen was dreaming about, it would seem, was just as erotic as my own dreams.

  She gave a light moan again as I worked my fingers deep into the folds of her cunt, and I found the hard center of her clit. Her legs were folded over each other, creating a tight but not impenetrable, rubbery sleeve into which I had to burrow.

  Jen squirmed against my body. I pushed her back against me now, trying to delay what I assumed was the inevitable: she would wake up, be annoyed, and roll away, slapping my hands. Jen hated waking up early, and she did not possess the same raging testosterone that fueled this kind of dumb idea at 5:00 am.

  The same testosterone that, likewise, prevented me from having a more lucid thought, such as: perhaps I shouldn't do this and piss my wife off.

  To my surprise, Jen did quite the opposite of what I suspected, and sort of folded back into and against me. I felt her body awakening: her muscles went from limp to slightly tense, filled with waking movements instead of the haphazardness of sleep. Her long lashes were still strewn over her cheeks: she didn't open her eyes or admit to full wakefulness, but her breath became more deliberate and shallow. The back of her neck cooled and her abdomen grew warm, even as my fingers became slippery inside of her flesh. I knew she could feel me now, that she was mostly awake and that she knew that the hard flesh against the small of her back was my cock, insistent.

  I pressed on the button of her clit, and the hard center of it darted away from me in the softness of its surrounding flesh. Jen stirred.

  “It's me,” I whispered, still drunk on my dream. “Your big black lover.”

  I watched her face as her closed eyes flickered a little and tugged at the corners of her mouth until an amused smile was barely visible on her lips. She made a lighthearted moaning sound.

  She knew I was joking, right? That was the reason for her smile?

  Of course it was.

  She wasn't smiling because she was still half-asleep, suggestible about where she was and who she was with?

  Her hand slid over her body and down between us to my cock, which she found easily out of habit, and grasped through my boxers. Her hands squeezed it firml
y: I was completely hard. So hard, in fact, that some precum dribbled from the tip of my dick as I let images from my dream prance in front of my eyes in the dark.

  Jen held on to my cock and purred like a cat. My own hand was still embedded in the flesh of her pussy.

  “Oh, Trey,” she said, in a sleepy and believable bedroom voice.

  My cock bounced against her ass. I had propped myself up to look at her face, but there was no indication visible on her lips as to whether, for sure, she was just teasing, or in fact had just woken up and didn't know where she was.

  I lost patience trying to make her come with my fingers in her pussy like that, so I slid my hand out of her panties and then along her spine, between us, until I could (awkwardly) tuck it into her panties from behind and slide them down her ass with a jerk.

  I exposed her ass crack, and my knuckles grazed her soft pussy lips on the way down: she was utterly soaked. Slippery excitement coated my fingers.

  I was about to take my cock from her and point it toward her cunt, but she was already doing just that. The tip of my cock was already being guided to her soaked hole.

  “Mmm,” she moaned. “Get that fat black cock inside of me and fill me up,”

  Her eyes were still closed. It was so easy to pretend, now – if this even was pretending – that she was just a sleeping slut whose mouth was running away from her, revealing her treachery. That she was going to take my cock into her pussy and realize that she wasn't being fucked by her black lover, Trey, but by me. And then, after I pumped her treasonous cunt full of cum, she would have to beg me to forgive her for all of her transgressions.

  My cock pulsed again. Jen gripped it firmly and pushed it inside of her, lifting her leg a little to get better access to her overflowing pussy.

  Once I was positioned well inside of her, I pushed her leg down with my arm and wrapped myself around her, pulling her torso tight against me.

  “Yeah,” I breathed into her ear. “Tell me how you like that. Tell me how you like that big black cock in your cunt,”