Body Of Research: An Experiment In Hotwifing

by Arnica Butler

Jen's pussy clenched around me. I thought for sure I felt a welling up of her juices. “Oh, fuck,” she moaned. “Oh, Trey.”

  Her eyes were still closed and there was still very little to really show that she was awake and aware of what she was saying. Maybe she even really believed Trey was fucking her, The thought drove me wild and I rolled her over onto her stomach. I lay on top of her hot body and gathered her hair in my hands. For a moment I just rocked into her cunt as she squirmed and moaned beneath me. “Oh, that feels so good, baby,” she said.

  I lost control a little, and sat back on my knees, pulling her by her hair and her hips to a bent over position, her head on the bed and her ass slightly up. I was still deep inside of her. I gave her hair a little jerk, then grasped her hips with both hands and began to pump her pussy over my cock. She was so wet that her pussy squelched with each thrust. I swept up some her juices with my left thumb and, surprising even myself in my early-morning daring, I slipped my thumb into her ass.

  She gasped, but her puckered hole opened up for me, and with the slippery lubrication from her cunt, I was able to fuck her ass with my thumb quite easily. She moaned with each thrust, and her ass clamped down on my finger a few times in discomfort, but she didn't wriggle away or protest.

  She opened her mouth and squinted her eyes as her own excitement built until it burst. It wasn't long after that when my own cock exploded, as I stared at my dick moving in and out of her pussy beneath the sight of my thumb, buried to the knuckle in her ass. Her orgasm made her ass spasm and clamp down on my finger, and I couldn't help but savor the idea of having my cock deep inside of her ass, and all of its tight, hot, silken flesh.

  Or Trey's cock. Even better.

  Another shudder went through me, squeezing my cock completely dry and filling up her pussy with everything I had.

  I slowly pulled my thumb from inside her ass as she moaned in mild distress. I stared at the sore and gaping hole as it spasmed closed. Jen balled her fists up in the sheets on the bed and tossed her head to the other side.

  “Fuck,” she said.

  I thrust my cock deep inside of her. I was still pretty hard, and I didn't feel like pulling my dick out of her yet. I liked the way she was pinned down to the bed, the way her ass looked and the way her pussy was stuffed full of cock. I liked that she still hadn't opened her eyes.

  She gasped a little.

  “I'm not done with you yet,” I said, beginning to fuck her again to my own surprise. It had been years since this sort of thing had happened to me.

  As I pounded into her for a second time, I rifled through the images of my dream. And so, in spite of it being round two, and Jen's pussy being full of cum, I had to struggle to wait for Jen to come again before I filled her up a second time.

  *

  Jen seemed almost catatonic for more than a few minutes. I reached over and drew my fingers along her back, just to make sure she was all right. At first there was no response from her, almost as if she was sleeping. But after a few strokes, her body shifted beneath my fingertips and she stirred, growling a little.

  I don't mind saying that my male pride was quite fluffed by the sensation of her satisfied, purr-like growl beneath my fingers. And the faint smile that played over her lips. I supposed, at that moment, that perhaps there was something to what Heller had been jabbering at me about often enough: that maybe the age difference between me and Jen did, in the back of my mind, worry me somewhat.

  But almost as soon as I had grasped this small straw of sanity, it slipped from my fingers. Jen stretched out, extending her arms over her head, and then opened her eyes.

  “Wow,” she said. “What brought that on?”

  But she was already smiling a little, like it was rhetorical question and she held some kind of excellent hand by knowing the answer.

  I kissed her. “Well, one could easily ask you the same question,” I said.

  I was referring to the fact that she had not been angry for being woken up at 5:00 by my cock rubbing against her back and my fingers prying into her.

  A flush spread across her face, and she didn't answer right away. It was only then that I realized she thought I was talking about how she had gone along with my game about Trey, and that it had somehow embarrassed her.

  Which for some reason - one I didn't really care to dig too deep into and which I silently reminded myself not to mention to Dr. Heller – got me even more hotted up than what she had just done.

  I put my hand on her cheek. “No, I just meant… morning sex isn't usually your thing.”

  Jen's eyes opened wide. She rolled her head over her shoulder to look at the time, which was projected by her clock onto the ceiling. “What time is it?” she said, as she did this. “Oh, god. Oh, you fucking asshole!” she said, and she was only half joking. But she snuggled up into my chest with her hands together and played with the short hairs with her fingers.

  She was silent for a while, but then she whispered. “No, but, seriously. What got into you?”

  “What do you mean?” I said, mysteriously.

  She pulled on my chest hair slowly but violently.

  “Ow. Okay,” I said, and she smiled. “Why did something have to 'get into me,?'” I said. “I just love you. And you're hot.”

  Her fingers curled into my chest hairs.

  “I had a dream,” I said quickly.

  Her eyes, which had slowly drooped closed as she was ripping the hair out of my chest, snapped open. Her fingers relaxed.

  “Hmm. What kind of dream?” she said. “Because I had a dream, too.”

  A little shiver went through my spine.

  “You first,” I said.

  She shook her head.

  “Okay,” I rolled onto my back and put my arm on my head. “It was just so… realistic. It was Halloween, and we had decided to… you know. Actually go through with… you know.”

  “Cleaning the bathroom,” she suggested.

  I rolled my eyes. “But it was weird, there was all this really realistic back story in it. We went to a party at Frank's, and then you sent a message to some guy -”

  “Was he black?”

  I felt a little lump sort of congeal in my throat. I nodded.

  It just wasn't something I particularly cared to admit to outright. Just like in my dream.

  “Trey?”

  I shook my head. “That's the thing. It wasn't… but it sort of was. You know?”

  “And so what did I do?” she said.

  I grimaced. “Well, you were wearing a “Naughty Nemo” costume..”

  “Nemo,” she said incredulously. “Like the fish? From that kid show?”

  “It… wasn't like that,” I said.

  “Nemo's a boy.”

  “Look, it was a hot costume. I saw one online a while ago, that's why it was in my dream. Do you want to hear this or not?”

  Jen smiled and kissed my shoulder. “Okay, so I'm dressed like a fish, and I...”

  “See, this was the thing,” I said. “There was all this stuff in my head about how I had made all these profiles for you online, and you were going to sleep with some grad student, but then we decided not to, and then you got some message from a guy on an app called Booty -”

  Jen snorted.

  Then she got very serious. “Actually, she said, “you should sell that.”

  She scrunched up her nose.

  “I mean, it's a little racist, but..” she added. “Finish, please.”

  “So, we went to this party, and there was the guy, and you, uh...”

  “Got caught.”

  I furrowed my brow.

  “Because I'm a fish?” Jen prompted.

  I smiled. I turned to her. “You're being awfully tolerant of my fantasies,” I said. A thrilling flutter went through my stomach.

  Maybe you could be more. More than just tolerant.

  “What did I do with this guy?” she said.

  “Um… it was pretty explicit,” I cautioned. “Really… visceral,” I added. />
  “Did I have sex with him?”

  “Uh..”

  “Yeah, okay, of course. But like.. what kind? And where were you?”

  I rubbed my finger on my forehead. I was feeling, once again, very exposed. Having sexual fantasies is one thing, and getting someone to go along with them is another. Doing it in the sort of blind shuffle that most sexual things are done in, it's only a little uncomfortable.

  But coming out and telling my wife that I had imagined her lips spread out around a thick black cock, and that I had imagined it in such visceral, filthy detail that I could hear the sticky gag in the back of her throat through a window? To tell my wife the very sordid details of my imagination and my fantasies?

  It was hard. Almost invasive, however much I also wanted to do it.

  “Hello?” Jen cooed. “Come on, I want to hear about this.”

  Jen slipped her hand down to my dick, which was already coming back to life a little.

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. “But promise me you won't, like… I don't know, take any of it too seriously.”

  She propped herself up on her elbow. “You sure?”

  I nodded.

  Even though I wasn't. I wasn't sure at all how seriously I wanted Jen to take any of this.

  I told her the story. And then, we fucked again, like rabbits.

  And then, I double-checked my appointment with Dr. Heller.

  C hapter 12

  ANOTHER QUESTION

  Dr. Heller had asked me a question, and somewhere in my musings, I had forgotten what it was. She was now piercing through me with her dull gray eyes.

  “I, uh... forgot the question,” I admitted lamely.

  Heller repositioned her notepad and crossed her legs in the opposite direction. She seemed to be summoning great patience from somewhere deep in her soul, though when she spoke she didn't seem strained at all.

  “Do you know how far you want Jen to go?” she said, in a monotone voice. “That's the question.”

  Most days that I see Dr. Heller, I get around to thinking the same thing. How I cannot believe that I have to pay good money to get someone else to ask me the same question I already asked myself a hundred times.

  I sighed.

  “I don't know. That's the problem. I don't know.”

  “You say Jen reacted... fairly receptively to your dream, when you told her about it. She seems receptive to your ideas. Let me ask you this: is her reaction what you actually wanted?”

  I sighed.

  The truth was, I didn't know. Good old Heller, hitting the nail on the head every time.

  “I'm not sure,” I said. Then I got impatient. “I mean, that's exactly the problem. Right? I don't know. This is something I really want, and it's something I really don't. That's why I'm unhappy about it half of the time.”

  Heller's face remained impassive. “Well, Chris, there are many people who maintain healthy relationships outside of the conventional boundaries of monogamy, as I've said. I have personal experience with a number of healthy marriages in which the couples manage their marriage and their extra-marital relationships. But I've also seen a great number of relationships of this type fail. If you are asking me for my opinion -”

  Fuck, finally -

  “ -then I would tell you that the relationships that work, with this kind of activity, are those in which both parties have very clear boundaries and goals determined at the outset, prior to engaging in extra-marital activities. These are people who discuss beforehand what it is they want and need from such activities, and why they can't get it within their own relationship. I think, as with any... what's the word I'm looking for?.. any 'activity' that relates to marriage, it should be goal-oriented, and a central question should be: how is this going to improve my marriage? If you don't have an answer to that question, well, then, perhaps you should consider that it is something that will not strengthen, but rather, deteriorate your marriage.”

  I put my face in my hands. So much red tape.

  “I find that men typically have a hard time considering these questions when sex is involved,” Heller said helpfully to my silence. “And that's quite natural. However, I believe you should invest some serious thought into -”

  “That's all I've done!” I said, interrupting. “I give this nothing but thought all day, every day.”

  “That specific question?” Heller said, arching her eyebrow.

  I played smart-ass again, annoyed by her Dr. Ruth-y superiority complex. “What question?”

  “'How will this improve my marriage?'”

  I smiled a smart-ass smile.

  “I think, Chris,” she set her notepad down and lined her pen up at the top of it, a sign our session was ending. “That you know exactly how this will be an exhilarating sexual experience. But you don't have an answer to the question I just posed, and it's that question that you are avoiding.” She crossed her legs and looked very shrink-smug. “I think the person you should be talking to about his is not me, but Jen.”

  I rolled my eyes. I knew what was coming next.

  “So before our next session, I'd like for you to think of a way to approach Jen and have a meaningful conversation about this topic. How could you bring it up? What could you say to her to keep the conversation on track?”

  Heller pulled a sheet of paper from her notebook and handed it to me. She'd already given it to me a hundred times.

  It was a point-form list of suggestions for having a productive conversation with your spouse.

  I took it and promised Heller I'd give it a try, with 0% intention of actually doing so.

  C HAPTER 13

  CAUGHT

  Jen, to my great surprise, was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter when I walked through the door. It was so unexpected that it gave me a jolt of adrenaline that made me shake.

  She had papers in her hands, like some classic movie scene where a husband gets caught for having spent money on hotels and flowers, and not hidden the credit card bill well enough. The power of the allusion was so strong, in fact, that I almost felt guilty for having done precisely that. I felt caught.

  There was nothing about Jen's look when she lifted her eyes to the door that really dispelled that feeling, either. My heart slammed against my chest.

  Jen shifted the papers in her hands.

  “What are you doing home?” I said, trying to sound cheerful and sounding, instead, demented.

  “Took the bus,” Jen said, quickly. “Have you been seeing a shrink?”

  That was Jen.

  Analytical.

  Direct.

  Semi-autistic in her lack of marital tact.

  I set my briefcase down on the counter.

  There was no point in confirming or denying it. She had our insurance papers in her hands, and it was pretty obvious what was going on.

  I went on the defensive. “Why'd you open that?”

  “I thought it was mine,” she snapped. “Why are you seeing a shrink?”

  I decided to attack instead of answering her question. “Why would it be yours?”

  “Because I went to the doctor.”

  “And you thought, 'oh Chris Brighton, looks just like my name.”

  “Don't be a dick. I just saw the envelope. Are you going to answer my question?”

  I rubbed my forehead.

  Was I?

  She folded the papers up. “Okay,” she said, and she actually sounded compassionate for once. “I'm sorry. You must have your reasons for not telling me. I just.. thought we maybe...”

  A very bad feeling was sinking down through my core. Jen looked down at the envelope as she folded it up. She seemed sad more than anything.

  Fuck.

  “I've been seeing her about us,” I blurted. Then I grimaced. I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Okay. Not really us, but like, this thing. About... you know.”

  Jen looked at me. “What thing?”

  “The... okay, so I have this kind of... well, you know how I'm a
little OCD. I have anxiety. I get really fixated on certain things...” I was babbling.

  Originally, I had gone to see Heller about plain, old-fashioned anxiety. It had turned into a discussion of my marital issues, my sexual desires, and my anxiety about those.

  But the original reason had been “generalized anxiety.”

  Jen looked unsure of what to say, and she looked over the bills again with a sort of confused grimace on her face.

  I started blabbering again. “It didn't start with the – I don't know, it isn't what it looks like..” I

  Jen held out her hands, palms toward me. “It's okay,” she said. “I shouldn't have... pried, I guess. I just, I'm surprised is all.”

  I closed my eyes. “I went there for anxiety,” I blurted. “And then it turned out the anxiety had to do with you.” There was a pause, and my whole body seemed to twist in the wind and burn up in the silence. The next words were coming out of my mouth as though someone had had taken over my body. “And my sexual fantasies about you.”

  There.

  There it was.

  I had spent thousands of dollars on this sentence.

  Shit.

  Driving home, I'd given my appointment with Heller a lot of thought. I'd wanted to find the right time to have the right conversation with Jen about all of this. This whole situation was blind-sighting me.

  Jen was dumbstruck, and her mouth was hanging open when I opened my eyes.

  Not hanging open in utter, complete disbelief. Just hanging open slightly.

  I-don't-know-what-to-say open.

  Her face softened.

  “Look, honey, I had no idea you were this... like, I had no idea you felt this much anxiety about it. You know? I only played along with it because I thought you were into it. I don't have to do that.”

  I sighed. “This is just the thing, okay? I am into it. I'm...” my breath caught in my chest and I felt suddenly half-ill. I was on the verge of saying that it was way more than just fantasy for me, and it was terrifying. “I'm into it, I think, for real.”

  Jen's eyes seemed to widen without actually doing so. Her eyebrows went up ever so slightly.

  “I always thought you were...well, you weren't. I always thought you thought me and David had something going on. To be honest.”