Nila's Long Con: A Hotwife Adventure

by Arnica Butler

  “But you are.”

  I thought about Shane, who was about as white-trash as they came. But he had a certain charm: he was fit, he wasn’t terrible-looking, in a rough kind of way. He was the kind of erratic, lone-wolf, alpha character that peppered so many bad-boy erotica stories for women.

  Tennile looked at me. “I’m… yeah, like… I’m attracted to him, but not… not...”

  “Are you worried you’re going to start some kind of affair with him?”

  Tennile looked horrified. “God, no.”

  I shrugged. “So, what, then?”

  I had my answer, at this point. Now I was just on a fishing expedition because I wanted to hear her talk about it.

  “I just… I wanted you to know I’m not… you know, like… going into this with, um… no… desire.” She had her hand to her face again by the last word.

  Strangely enough, this conversation was making me feel better by the second. The fact that there was still some little corner of Tennile that could be made uncomfortable was a relief. And the fact that she did seem to be interested in telling me an uncomfortable truth boded well for our relationship being as honest as I had once believed.

  I stepped closer to her. “I see,” I said, and I hoped she understood from my voice that it was okay. “And so… have you been, I don’t know… fantasizing about Shane?”

  I brushed the side of her arm with the back of my fingers. A wave of goosebumps flared over her shoulder and up to her neck.

  The back of her neck became red, and I saw her jaw twitch a little. The heat from her cheeks was palpable.

  I pushed on her arm, getting her to drop her left arm to her side. I leaned close to her ear. “Maybe you want to tell me what some of those fantasies are?”

  Tennile turned to me, and her eyes were a little frantic, a little embarrassed, but a little interested. “Come on,” she said softly. “I’m being serious here. This is a good… it’s a good plan, but you have to tell me, you have to be… okay with it.”

  Our mouths were very close together now. She was turning in increments towards me, her rigid stance softening, her body getting as hungry as mine.

  So many bad things we were doing.

  And I was starting to realize that Tennile really, really liked to do very naughty things.

  “I’m okay with it,” I said, “I have faith in you.”

  We started to kiss, and it was this wild kind of tongue-hockey, animal kissing we had never, ever done before. It drove me wild. I grabbed Tennile by the head and pressed her mouth to mine to end it, kissing her in a way that was familiar but also foreign.

  I can’t remember if I said to her, or only thought it:

  After all, you’re a professional.

  Within seconds, we were on the floor of the living room, taking off each other’s clothes with the kind of frantic urgency that teenagers possessed. I ripped Tennile’s blouse open, and sucked up her skin, starting at her neck, moving down to her round breasts. I pulled on the lacy fabric of her bra until the small mounds popped free of their confinement and her hardened nipples were near my mouth, ready to be suckled.

  While I took her left nipple into my mouth and bit into the sensitive flesh lightly, making her gasp and arch against me, I made my way under her skirt and into the hot center between her legs. Her panties were already damp.

  “Hmm,” I said, switching to her other breast and making a sloppy swirl around her nipple with my tongue before pulling it away from her body with my lips until it popped noisily from my mouth.

  I rubbed over the satin fabric of her panties, feeling for her hard clit under the soaked material. “Is this because you’re thinking about Shane?”

  I slipped my finger under her panties. Her skirt was riding up her hips and she had spread her legs open for me. Beneath the material, her smooth cunt was slick with excitement, and my fingers cut through her flesh like butter to dip deep inside her.

  Tennile pushed against the floor to grind up against me. We were clawing at each other in sloppy, wet, animal movements. I had my mouth back on hers and we were playing with our tongues again; her hands were freeing me from my pants and peeling my shirt away from me with the same indecorous ripping I had used on her.

  She gave me a wry smile, only, and didn’t answer. My thumb found her clit and I pressed against it, rubbing it in circles that made her whole body undulate against me.

  “Are you going to let Shane fuck you in all the dirty ways you fucked Maddock?” I asked. By now she had my cock in her hand, and her fingers were slipping over the crown in the beads of precum that had squeezed from it. Her eyes lit up when she felt my cock flex, almost bursting.

  “I could,” she said. “I could do all kinds of dirty things.”

  I curled my fingers, inside of her, toward the root of her clit. Tennile’s g-spot is marked by a tiny patch of skin that feels slightly rougher than the rest of her, and my fingertips found it and rubbed it as she squirmed and gasped again.

  “Like what?” I said. “Are you going to let him fill every hole?”

  Tennile’s eyes were half-closed, and her voice was warbling, whoreishly, from her throat in excited squeaks. “You have to.. you… have to… wait and see...”

  Her juices were warm and slippery as they seemed to well up inside of her and overflow. I felt her whole body trembling around me as she came.

  While she shuddered through her orgasm, I climbed to a crouch over her, and pulled her by her hips onto my cock. She flopped like a rag doll, gasping with her own fading orgasm, as I pounded into her flesh until I filled her completely.

  The plan, it would seem, was a “go.”

  13: T HE LAST VIDEO

  Tennile fiddled with her purse again, turning the camera on and off and pulling it out to check the playback.

  “It’s fine,” I said.

  I pulled her to me, trying not to ruffle her too much. After a (tantalizing) fashion-show of dresses and jeans, skirts and lingerie, she had settled on not looking too obvious, but just a shade sexier than usual. A tight gray skirt she never wore because it was slightly too short to be professional, a black blouse that clung to her figure and cut low in front, and her suit jacket. The same neutral, semi-sexy heels from her date with Ryan Maddock.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” I assured her, peeking into her blouse at the sweet shape of her breasts cupped in the black lace bra she had selected. “And then we’ll be home-free.”

  My cock was hard against her thigh, and she moved in to me for a long, slow kiss. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” she said, anyway, and smiled when my cock flexed against her.

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  “Okay.”

  I opened the car door for her and watched her drive away, as if it were an ordinary day at work. Except it wasn’t: earlier in the week she had sent a message to Shane that she wanted him to come to the area because she needed to talk.

  And like the big fish that he was, he had bitten.

  Now all that had to happen was that Tennile had to play her part.

  Which she assured me she could do.

  I went back inside and made myself a drink, and then I poured it out and opted to take a walk down to a local bar I never visited. The walk was long, the bar was terrible, but I had no idea how long I would be waiting for Tennile, and I didn’t want to spend the whole time obsessing over all the things that could go wrong.

  Or all the things that could go right.

  The bar killed a couple of hours. I wanted to distract myself, but ten minutes into staring at a TV screen, blindly, my mind imagining Tennile with Shane in every possible filthy position (and some impossible ones), I realized I probably looked like an unhinged man, so I went home.

  The time ticked by, I stared at my computer, seeing nothing, and then I stared at the TV. My mind refused to think about anything else. My stomach twisted and my heart pounded, no matter how many drinks I poured on them.

  When it got late (Tennile had left at 4
pm to meet Shane around five at his hotel), the real worries began to creep in, more of them with each passing minute.

  I wanted to trust my wife completely, but it wasn’t hard to slip into some truly convoluted thoughts. After all, she had proven herself to be a master manipulator of men, a professional, and sort of a grifter.

  What if I was the one being conned, and not Shane?

  Thankfully, at ten-thirty, I heard her car in the carport, and saw the lights as they dimmed and then blinked closed. Her shadow filled the door window, and then the doorknob turned.

  There she was. Closing the door behind her. Home.

  “So?” I said, unable to keep the relief and the simultaneous stress out of my voice. I was glad she was home, but there was still one more thing I needed to know.

  Did she get it?

  There was a lot of tension in the air right before I said that, but my tone was so awkward, and it seemed like such a cliché from a movie, that we both disintegrated into uneasy laughter.

  “I think I got it,” Tennile said.

  But this wasn’t really – not really – what I was after.

  “And the rest?”

  I scrutinized her as I waited for her answer. She had piled her hair back up on her head, and it looked as orderly as when she had left. Moving my eyes down her body I noted that she did not seem to have a bra on anymore; I thought I could make out the shape of her nipple poking into the silky fabric.

  “I hope it wasn’t over-the-top,” she said, and I shuddered in pleasure.

  I had to wait a moment to say the next bit, because I could feel my breath shaking inside of me a little crazily. “What did you do with him?”

  Tennile set her purse down on the counter and took out the camera. She held it up and shook it slowly from side to side. “I hope it’s all here,” she said.

  Each word crawled over my skin and pooled in my groin, twisting, tantalizing.

  it’s

  all

  here

  “Should we watch it?” she said.

  The tape began with a field of gray, almost like a disconnected TV cable signal: static, in its visual form. My heart fell, and Tennile looked at me, sensing whatever came over me.

  But her face was lit up, like she was excited for a movie that was coming on soon.

  I looked back at the screen. It wasn’t static at all, just the speckled gray of Tennile’s skirt. She was leaning on a table in front of her purse, and the camera was being moved, left and right maybe.

  “Thanks,” her voice said.

  Still no visual. I heard the sound of someone else in the room, Shane. Sitting down. Making one of his alpha-male sounds. “So,” his gravely voice said, and I heard the snap of a lighter being closed. “You wanna tell me what you’re all in a tizzy about?”

  Tennile’s gray skirt shifted, and then moved away from the camera, taking on the form of her well-turned ass as it moved away, into the room.

  The shapes and shadows of a hotel room took form: a bed, Shane's lanky legs stretched out from a chair to the side of the bed, a plume of smoke from his lit cigarette. My wife’s backside, her sexy walk as she approached him.

  She had evidently placed the purse on a table against the widow. Smart. The light was good, the angle was perfect.

  “Great camera-work,” I said.

  Tennile was staring. “Great camera,” she breathed.

  I decided not to tell her, at that moment, how much I spent on it. FBI-quality stuff, the guy had told me. By the looks of it, he hadn’t lied.

  But my attention was snagged away as Tennile moved closer to Shane, and her long, slender arm reached out toward him. For a moment I was unsure of what was happening, as Shane reached his hand forward, too.

  Tennile was bringing her hand, and the plume of smoke, toward her face.

  I raised my eyebrows as I watched her inhale, her head tilted back slightly, and stream the smoke from her mouth in a long, forceful exhale.

  She gave the cigarette back to Shane, who looked amused as he brought it back to his lips.

  “I know about the emeralds,” she said bluntly.

  It was Shane’s turn to blow the smoke out in a steady stream. Other than that, he had no reaction.

  Tennile paced a little in front of him, her arms crossed over her stomach. “Tell me, Shane, what’s the plan, then? Hmm?”

  Shane still didn’t move, except to bring the cigarette to his lips. “Now, Tenny. You’re smarter than that. I think you know what the plan is.”

  I looked over at Tennile with a worried expression. She held up her hand. Wait.

  Tennile stood facing him, and Shane sat, smirking at her, his legs spread open in the sort of dominant, space-occupying sit that tough guys used on the subway.

  “I’m here with a proposition,” Tennile said.

  “Are you, now?” Shane said.

  But his interest was piqued.

  Tennile put one hand to her chest, and I saw her fingers working on the buttons of her blouse. The fabric seemed to peel away from her body, and as it did, Shane could be heard sucking in his breath. Tennile stepped forward, and the no-longer totally cool Shane watched her, his mind evidently wary but his body gaining control over him. Tennile reached for his cigarette with her shirt open, and brought it to her lips for another drag. As she did, she moved her right leg against his thigh. Subtly, but it rippled through him very obviously, even from that distance on the grainy film.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” Tennile said.

  “Have you, now,” Shane murmured.

  Tennile handed the cigarette back to him, and leaned forward until her hands were on his thighs. Shane’s face changed from smugness to disbelief as she leaned her arms on his thighs and slid down to her knees on the floor.

  “About the past… about, I don’t know… things.”

  I stared. Her hands were moving along the insides of his thighs. Through the jeans, but almost more brutally because of that. I could almost feel her nails raking through the fabric of my own pants.

  Shane was in full-on shock now. I could see he was trying to get his shit together in his head, to figure out what exactly Tennile was up to, but he couldn’t think straight.

  And who would be able to, in that situation.

  “This whole thing has gotten me kind of… I don’t know.” She looked up at him, her gaze sexy as hell even from the side. I think I saw her run her tongue over her upper lip. “Excited,” she said.

  And then her hand was on Shane’s belt buckle, pulling it through the loop. “I’m thinking,” Tennile continued, “maybe I don’t want to be the kind of girl I’ve turned into. Maybe -”

  The belt flipped out and waved in the air, then she tugged it through the second part of the buckle, in little tugs.

  “Maybe, I want to be a different kind of girl.”

  She rose up on her knees, and Shane took over the freeing of his cock in hurried motions as she peeled the blouse away from her torso.

  His cock was hard, and it sprung out of his pants, visible from the angle of the camera from base to tip.

  “Holy shit,” I said.

  It was exactly the kind of cock you’d expect a guy like Shane to have: a little longer than it seemed like it could be, not extremely thick but good-sized, wiry and veined and tough-looking like him.

  Really, really long.

  Tennile reached forward, and her hand closed around the base of his shaft. Her eyes were on his dick now, and her expression was one of hunger, addiction, craving. If it was an act, she deserved an Oscar.

  But she had told me it wasn’t an act, not entirely.

  “It’s been a long time,” Tennile said, and she moved her hand slowly up to the middle of his shaft, then down. As she did, she moved her lips closer to his cock, sinking onto her heels.

  Shane’s face had transformed, he was now a one-track mind. He lowered his hand, and evidently crushed the cigarette on the floor before reaching and taking the top half of his cock in his
own fingers. With his other hand, he pushed Tennile’s face toward his cock.

  Tennile opened her mouth, and let her tongue hang out of it, flat, for Shane to slap his dick on her tongue a few times. And then, I stared in horror as my wife’s tongue curled out of her mouth and began to lap and lick and tickle Shane’s cock in obscene, sticky circles and loops.

  She started to breathe like a porn actress, panting, greedy little gasps. Shane kept his grip on her hair and smiled as she darted her tongue all over the crown of his cock, the sides of his shaft, leaving a wet trail of spit that could be seen even in the low-quality light.

  He let go of his cock and pulled her forward onto his dick. The many, veined, long inches of Shane’s cock disappeared into Tennile’s lips. Her cheeks puffed out, and I saw her stomach give a wave of revolt as she gagged on his immense dick.

  But he kept going, even as she gagged again. Inch after inch disappearing into her mouth.

  “That’s it,” Shane said. “Just like old times.”

  It’s not quite possible to describe the quivering, wet, white-hot sensation this sent through me.

  Tennile began to suck on his cock. But suck. Really, earnestly, her cheeks hallowing out, the slurping and the stickiness deafening. She was going at it, going at it with everything she had.

  This went on for quite a while, while Shane held her head. His tattooed arms strained with the pleasure of it, and his jaw went slack, his eyes concentrated and obsessed.

  Suddenly he pulled her from his cock and twisted her head a little. Tennile smiled at him, though he had her roughly by the hair and was pulling hard. She licked her lips. Her mascara had smeared a little, and her lipstick was a mess, blurred around her mouth.

  “There we are,” Shane said. “That’s the dirty little whore I know.” He ran his fingers over her lips and then pushed her back, into the side of the bed so she was on the floor.

  Tennile, in a way that seemed almost rehearsed, lifted her head and opened her mouth. In a clattering of belt buckles and zippers, Shane was kicking himself out of his clothes. Within moments he had his cock hovering over her open, tilted mouth, his naked ass to the camera.