“You want to do something pretty bad?” she said. She was still stroking my cock, and my balls were boiling over with a need to release. There was nothing I could say at that moment except that sure, I would do whatever fucking thing she suggested, anything at all. I exhaled sharply and whispered, “sure,” because it was all I could do to hold on and not burst all over her face. I wanted to stick it out for whatever she was going to make happen next.
She twisted her left hand, and held it up. She looked sideways at it, and it took me a second to process what the hell she was doing. Then she moved the phone forward, and started to take my cock into her mouth again.
She was taking a selfie. Of herself. Sucking my cock.
“Jen, Jesus,” I said, because I felt like I should.
At the same time, Jen staring at the lens of her phone, taking a picture of herself sucking my cock, was also hot as all fuck. I wasn't about to really stop her.
And what was she going to do with it next?
I threw my head back as I thought of it, and I knew that she would probably go through with it. I grasped her head and began to pull her down further onto my shaft. Her lips slid over my dick and were nearly at the base, when she slid insistently up against the pressure of my hand.
“I'm going to send it,” she said. Her fingers were typing something, and I strained to see, but could not.
I looked down.
Her fingers were on the phone now, her face a little lit up in an almost demonic way. Her eyes were on fire as she swept her fingers over the screen.
“What are you writing?” I said hoarsely. I could barely breathe.
She turned the phone toward me.
I stared at the picture for so long I barely had time to read the text she had composed. Her mouth around my cock, it looked utterly unreal. As though I were getting an actual dose of my own fantasy, seeing my wife suck another cock besides mine. Another spasm surged through me and my cock bounced in her hand. She squeezed me and smiled.
I scanned the text quickly as she pulled the phone away. I could only make out part of it:
[Me]: just sucking on my -
Lazily, still half staring at her phone, she put her hand on my cock. I had been bouncing up and down from nearly exploding to aching painfully, and her touch alone was nearly enough to send me over the edge.
Or maybe it was her face, looking hungrily at the phone.
Maybe it was all the potential of the message I hadn't finished reading.
Then she turned back to me, and met my eyes again. The phone was still in her hand, sort of theatrically. She pressed “Send.”
Then, without having to put much effort into it, she rubbed my shaft and squeezed the cum from inside of me. “Fuck!” I yelled, as it spurted onto her low-neck shirt, and her lips, and her hand. She ran her tongue over her mouth, and licked up the threads of pearly cum that had roped over her lips.
Then she fell back on the floor, and pulled me toward her and with her, her hand on my shoulder. She stretched out on the rug and pushed me down to her spread and open legs. She used one hand to pull her panties aside and slide her fingers into the slippery mess of her ripe cunt. I joined my fingers to hers and ripped the fabric of her panties slightly as I pulled them to the side and explored the buttery folds of her pussy with my tongue. I moved along the slight bumps on her skin, where her shaved snatch was just starting to grow back, and into the silky inner lips, toward the target of her hardened clit. I found it with my tongue and swirled around the center of it as she moaned and squirmed. Then I sucked her clit into my mouth and pushed down on it with my tongue. She gasped, and I repeated the maneuver, pleased with how she thrust her hips up for more when I pulled away. I licked at her gently, driving her wild.
My cock was getting hard again. I played with her clit, teasing her until she was tossing her head back and forth from side to side. Her phone lit up in her hand and vibrated, but she didn't even look at it or register it. She grasped the back of my head and pushed her pussy against my face, rubbing herself against me until she shrieked in pleasure.
I rose up, hard once again, and fell on top of her. Her eyes were closed, and her legs were still shaking with her orgasm. She let me slide the phone from her hand, and, leaning against the floor, her soft breasts beneath me and my cock swallowed in her hot pussy, I read through the messages we had just sent to Raphael.
Her mouth around my cock.
Her message:
[Me]: just sucking on my old mans cock maybe come by later
And Raphael's response:
[Raphezzz]:: hells yeababee
I imagined him showing the picture to his friends. Or maybe sitting alone in a bathroom, the phone against the wall, leaning over the toilet and jerking off his cum as he pictured my wife's mouth around his cock.
And then I exploded inside of Jen's cunt, dropping the phone to grasp onto her hair and pound my cum deep inside of her, my mind filled with images of Raphael's body covering hers the same way and filling her up like I was now.
Chapter 14
MILLION-DOLLAR QUESTION
Jen pushed her hair out of her face. She was sweaty and her cheeks were flushed. Little droplets of sweet sweat dotted her upper lip, begging to be sucked off. But I was too fucked-out and dizzy to lean over and do it, as much as I wanted to. I felt around above my head for her phone.
“I can't believe you sent those,” I said. There was no confusion about what I was discussing. I wanted to see them again.
Jen smiled and reached up absently to join my hands in the search. “Yeah,” she said. “I better delete them in case someone sees them at work or something.”
Suddenly my heart plummeted again with a terrible thought. “Hey, this guy doesn't have your number now, does he?”
Jen shook her head, and said, almost like she couldn't believe I was that stupid. “Nooooh. That's what the apps are for. I can just delete him forever and he'll never come back.”
I felt a little relief, but it still made me nervous. Nervous and strangely a little turned on. The idea that Jen had just sent out her dirty photos and they might be -
“What about...?” I found the phone and opened up the pictures.
“The internet?” Jen suggested. “Why do you think I didn't get my face in there?”
I cold chill was overtaking my whole body as I sorted through her messages to examine the photo. It was one thing for her to send a sext to a random guy, but it would be quite another for her just to be free and loose on the internet.
I found the pictures, which indeed were quite anonymous.
God, Jen had acted like such a little slut.
The thought of it twisted in my gut, both painful and pleasing.
“That's cold,” I said absent-mindedly.
Jen looked at me, perplexed.
“Cutting him loose like that,” I explained. Though my mind wasn't really on what she had said about never contacting him again. It was more on what a slutty, naughty girl she had just been, more on what possibilities lay terrifyingly and tantalizingly in our future.
Jen turned to me, and her face was a little incredulous. “You seemed to think it was pretty hot.”
I couldn't deny that.
Maybe this was the moment, I thought. I desperately wanted to return to the conversation we'd been having in the kitchen. I couldn't remember, now, how it had wrapped up.
Jen folded her hands over her chest.
I opened my mouth, but couldn't find the right words to say, so I just trailed my fingers up and down her skin. She shivered a little as I stroked her shoulder.
“You're so beautiful,” I said.
Jen bit her lip and grinned. She turned her head a little to look at me.
It was obvious that we had to get back to the topic.
I sucked in my breath.
“So,” I said, using my joke-voice and sort of hating myself for having to hide behind it to have this conversation. “How about that thing we were talking about in the kitch
en.”
Jen shrugged and rolled her eyes playfully. “What thing? I've totally forgotten all about it.”
She must have seen something on my face fall – I felt it, my features sort of sagging, even though I fought against it. She punched me playfully. “Just kidding,” she whispered. “Okay... well, so you have a... what is it? About me with another man.”
I nodded.
“And this is... is it an anxiety, or a fantasy?”
The intelligence of this question floored me. Then it made me want to slap Heller, because my wife had taken almost no time at all to figure out to ask me what Heller should have, months ago.
Never trust a person who charges you hourly.
“That's the thing,” I said, but my voice was almost enthusiastic.
Jen shook her head. “What thing?”
“That. That's the million-dollar question.”
Or, in the case of Heller, multi-thousand dollar question.
Jen looked confused and held her hands out in exasperation. “So which is it?” she said.
“That's just it.”
Jen put a couch pillow on her face and yelled into it. She threw it aside. “It's like 'Who's On First?' here.”
“I'm 100% certain you have no idea what you're talking about when you say that.” Jen hated sports and she hated old television and film. And she was only 28.
“You sound like the one who doesn't know what he's talking about.”
I sighed.
“It's... complicated.”
Jen looked over at me. Her eyes moved over my face, sharp and hawk-like now. This was Jen's analytical mode. I half believed she would spit out some grand solution to all of my problems right then and there.
“Do you want me to have an affair?” she said suddenly. “With Emery? Is that why you think about it all the time?”
“No.”
“Is that what started all of this?”
“Er... kind of,” I was starting to feel uncomfortable.
“And would you want me to have an affair with someone else?”
Her hand was moving down my torso now, headed straight for where my cock was coming back to life. She placed her hand over it, and her eyes kept searching mine.
“No affair,” I said, and the word itself, and all of its implications, sent a painful spark through me. My cock twitched. I wanted desperately to explain that this was not the same thing as my fantasy, not exactly right...
“What about something... like a one-night stand?”
I didn't have to nod, because the sensations that went through me told the whole story against Jen's skin and under her hand.
That was what I wanted.
I nodded anyway.
Jen collapsed on the bed for a moment, face-up.
I tried to read her face, because I had no idea what she might be thinking. I was struggling to rein my thoughts in, to think of the right thing to say to get this conversation either derailed completely or back on track, directed by me instead of her. It all felt so dangerous, so potentially explosive.
Jen let out a sigh and rose up. She slipped her shirt over her body and stretched.
“It's a lot to think about,” she said. She stroked the sole of my foot with her toe. “Let me sleep on it.”
“O – kay?” I said.
She smiled, and left to take a shower.
I stared up at the ceiling, unable to have a single coherent thought.
What the fuck had just happened?
Chapter 15
DREAMS COME TRUE
I left early for work the next day, so there wasn't really any more discussion about the topic. Not that I had any ideas about how things would proceed from there. Jen was already shocking me enough by just offering to consider my fantasy in what seemed like a serious way.
So I was mildly surprised when I received a text from her in the afternoon.
The first thing she sent was a picture taken from a Halloween costume website. It showed a mime costume.
But not just any mime costume.
Sure, the girl who was modeling it had a slightly better body than Jen, in the sense that she had big boobs to plump out the tight striped shirt with the low cut collar, but I could easily imagine Jen in the thigh-high stockings the model was wearing.
[Jen]: couldnt find naughty nemo
I stared at the phone. What was she up to?
It was only then that I realized Halloween was that evening. Somehow in all the confusion of my dream and Jen's wild texts, I'd forgotten the date completely.
My phone kept buzzing.
[Jen]: there's also a schoolgirl costume
Another picture.
I stared at the costumes, my mind spinning ahead. What was she up to? I didn't dare think it was what I hoped it was. My heart slammed against my chest as I tried to think of how to respond. My stomach was twisting up again, squeezing out the delicious warmth and horrible cold that it was to be jealous and afraid and turned by Jen.
[Jen]: too cliche?
[Jen]: hello? Oh, theres also a nurse.
My fingers shaking, I typed:
[Me]: are you ordering online?
It was dumb but it was all I could think of.
I waited, my blood boiling, my imagination going wild. I didn't dare to actually touch upon my fervent hope that Jen had possibly gotten it into her head to...
No, it couldn't be.
[Jen]: halloween is today silly I'm at costume shop. What do you want to be?
The text hit me in the face like a ton of bricks. I actually felt as though I was slammed into the floor, and lifted into the sky. I was falling, flying, smashing into bits, all at once.
I started to type, but I gave up. In my frantic state I was typing garble.
I called her.
“Ye-ees,” Jen sang into the phone. I could feel her smile through the receiver.
“Where are you?” I said. It wasn't what I had expected to say, and it came out almost desperate and stalker-like. I cleared my throat. “I mean, what are you doing?”
Jen treated me to a light giggle. “Getting a costume together, silly.”
“For what?” I said, after a pause. My mouth was dry.
Jen let me simmer over the phone for a while. I could imagine her in some costume shop, holding a mime costume up to her lithe figure, smiling smugly. Enjoying teasing me like this.
My heart started to beat faster with every passing second. I wanted her to say it with a desperation I had never felt before.
“I found a party for us,” she said, dragging her words over my skin like a sharp blade that was making no cut. A shiver went down my spine.
“Which one do you like better?” she said. “The mime or the schoolgirl?”
My mouth flapped sort of uselessly. “I have.. I.. whatever one you...”
A beat of silence.
Then, like serrated whiskey, her most pussy-cat purr warbling up from her throat, she said:
“Well... it's your fantasy, though. So you choose.”
My head seemed to fill with an anesthetic. I went numb everywhere but in my dick, which was about the only thing left of my body I could feel as her words wrapped all around me and began to squeeze.
I just breathed into the phone like a maniac, still unsure if she was saying what she seemed to be saying.
“Chris,” she purred again. “You still there? Also, they don't have a yeti costume. But they have Chewbacca, which is...whoo! Pre-tty pricey. But... it seems like a pretty good idea.”
Still, I just breathed.
“You know,” she said, her voice sultry again. “To be able to hide in your costume.”
More breathing. Something slithered inside of me and my vision went dull from the blood pressure that surged through me.
Finally I managed to talk.
“Are you saying what I think you're saying?”
Jen said nothing for a bit. “Oh,” she growled. “This is an idea.” Then a pause.
“Come and pick me u
p here around eight. There's a thing with the grad students or something.”
“Then?”
Another delicious pause.
“Then, we're going to make your dream come true.”
C hapter 16
OUR OLD FRIEND TREY
I was at the university at 7:30, sitting in the parking lot, trying to get my raging feelings under control. I was shaking as though I had overdosed on caffeine or nicotine, but I hadn't had any of either.
Later in the afternoon, Jen had sent me a text telling me that my costume was at home.
And it was. A very expensive-looking Chewbacca costume. When I put the costume on, the sensation of being inside the Chewbacca head so approximated my lucid dream I almost fell over with a dizzying sickness.
She was really doing this.
I had taken the costume off to drive, opting for some jeans and a shirt in the car. I was burning up in spite of the cold, my hands on the steering wheel. Trying to get my head around what was about to happen. Around the extra slice of pain that it gave me to have to go into her office and retrieve her.
Trying not to let my imagination run wild with the other perverse fantasy that perhaps she was up there with Emery, trying on her costume, letting him adjust some strappy piece of it (I still had no idea which costume she had chosen), kissing her shoulder as he did. Sliding his fingers into the tight striped shirt of the mime costume. Taking the naughty schoolgirl costume to a theatrical place, bending her over the desk and spanking her while he told her how bad her last batch of stats had been.
I sighed.
Or maybe it was just a grad student party.
And maybe Jen was just teasing me, just dragging out the games we played.
She didn't really mean to “make my dream come true,” did she?
Body Of Research: An Experiment In Hotwifing Page 18