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Erica can't understand why her husband looks at erotic websites. Why does he ogle other naked women when he can look at her? He's particularly fascinated with hotwife movies, and he won't stop pushing until he can watch her having screaming-hot sex with a massive BBC bull! Will she give in to his perverse desire? Does she really have any choice?~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~Butterflies were beating their wings in my stomach. Peter wasn't the only one excited; I was being given permission to flirt with another man, something I hadn't done in years. Not only flirt, but do it in front of my husband, who would be getting more and more excited the longer I flirted. In the end, I'd get a beautiful dinner and a night at an exclusive hotel. I felt so excited it had to be wrong; I shouldn't be excited about talking to another man, promising him sexual favors he'd never have. Yet, that's what my husband wanted more than anything, and I knew how excited it made him, and what I'd get out of it, in the end.I giggled to myself, "in the end." That's where I'd get it, too. I started hoping that some impossibly beautiful businessman would try to pick me up while Peter watched. Maybe my husband would get so excited we wouldn't even make it to the restaurant, he'd just take me right up to the room.I started preparing with a long, hot bath. I already knew what I was going to wear: a dress designed to excite my husband. On a whim, I also decided to shave myself. I'd already done my legs and, with the help of a pair of scissors, a small mirror, and a fresh blade, I removed all my pubic hair. I thought I'd look like a little girl but when I gazed in the mirror I saw that I looked very much like a grown woman's. Not only a grown woman, but a sexually aroused one.As I dried off, it became obvious how aroused I was. The whole of idea of flirting with some handsome businessman and then making love with my husband got to me. I was physically ready for Peter right then.I did something I hadn't done since we married. Rooting around in my bottom drawer, I found my old trusty vibrator. It hadn't been used in years and I was sure the batteries would be dead, but it sprang to life, and just the feel of those vibrations against my hand brought back memories of secret release I'd enjoyed when I had no other outlet.After wiping it clean with a wet nap and quickly patting it dry, I ran the machine against my freshly shaven mound. The lack of hair increased my sensitivity in ways I hadn't foreseen, and the vibrations felt wonderful as they touched me. I was hoping for some relief; I was hoping the vibrator would "take the edge off," so to speak. It didn't. All I did was excite myself even further, causing a throbbing sensation that would not go away. In fact, it didn't go away for hours. All that time, I was acutely aware of my own genitals.
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My Raunchy Hotwife Adventures
By Thomas Roberts
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Copyright 2017 @ Thomas Roberts
This book is intented for ADULTS ONLY and all characters at over 18 years of age.
This is an erotic work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is accidental and damned amazing.
There is sex, lots of it. There is wife cheating and all kinds of goings-on. If that offends you, please don’t read this book. But if you’re looking for a fun, dirty read, this is it.
I love being married to Peter. That’s why I have such a hard time explaining what happened. We were so happy together before “it” came up…
At first there was just a hint that Peter wanted something more, something I wasn’t providing. I’d find websites he’d visited—pornographic sites. I couldn’t understand. Why did he need to look at other women when he could look at me as much as he wanted? I never denied him anything.
I’ve always had submissive tendencies. I like my partner to take the lead. I want him to be in charge, to set the pace. When it comes to sex, I like to be dominated by a strong man. I don’t mean tied up or whipped or anything like that, I just like to be with a strong man who knows what he wants from me.
Despite my submissive nature, I tried even harder to please Peter. I began initiating sex. I’d let him get into bed first and then walk into the bedroom naked before crawling under the covers and taking him into my mouth. He always said I gave a great blowjob, but I worked at making it even better. I used the internet first, learning the really sensitive parts on a penis; I talked to my girlfriends to find out what they did; I even learned to swallow his cum (although I wasn’t a fan of the taste).
When he was inside me, I made sure to let him know how much I enjoyed it—and I did enjoy it. I loved it when Peter made love to me. I loved the closeness, the feeling of his bare skin on mine, feeling his love for me. I became more vocal because that seemed to excite him, and after I got over my embarrassment, being vocal excited me too. I even used the words he liked to hear, though I was uncomfortable with some of them and it took a real effort.
But Peter was still watching those dirty videos when I wasn’t home. That’s about all he did when I wasn’t around. It tore me up inside. What was wrong with me? Was it my body? I worked out all the time, but maybe my breasts were the problem. He seemed to like them, but maybe he wanted a woman that was bigger on top. What was it?
Then the books started showing up on our e-reader, books about “hotwives” and “cuckolds.” I read a few of them to better understand him and what he wanted. Did he want me to sleep with other men? Was that his thing?
As a last resort, I went to the websites he visited most often. They were all about cheating wives and hotwives, and cuckolds, too. He was watching the wives of other men as they had sex with strangers! That was what he wanted! I sat in front of the computer crying as I watched a married woman being taken by a large black man in front of her husband.
My tears were falling so hard I couldn’t see the screen; there was just the sound of sex and my sobbing. My husband didn’t love me if he wanted me to let another man do that to me. How could he love me? My heart was breaking as I crawled into bed next to him wearing my flannel nightgown. I didn’t even want to be near him. When he reached to touch me, I swatted his hand away and turned so I was facing away from him. I cried quietly to myself as Peter turned off the light.
As I listened to his breathing, it occurred to me that maybe Peter just wanted an excuse to sleep with other women. Maybe he thought if I took a lover in front of him then he could do the same thing! He wanted an excuse to cheat on me, and I mentally told him off so well that sleep didn’t come for hours.
I was ready for him the next morning. “Honey, we need to talk,” I said after breakfast.
“It’s Saturday, Erica. Can it wait?” (I love my husband, but he can get so whiny it’s like having a child.)
I sat across the table from him, leaned forward, and looked him right in the eye. “Peter, why are you watching all those dirty videos? Aren’t I good enough for you?” There, I’d laid it out. I tried to keep my voice calm, but my heart was pounding.
Peter looked like a trapped animal. I watched him squirm as he tried to figure out what to say. But I didn’t enjoy this any more than he did, and while I worked at staying calm my mind was racing. What if I’d done the wrong thing by asking him? What if he said he watched them because I wasn’t enough for him? Oh God, what had I done? Just as I was preparing to say something like “never mind, it’s okay,” he spoke.
“Erica, honey, I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say, but it’s not about you. I love you. You’re perfect for me, you’re all I need…” But his eyes weren’t on me. He looked shifty. I had been ready to let him off the hook, but not now.
“If I’m all you need, why do you do it? Is it just to watch people having sex? Why are the women all married and why are the husbands watching them? I just don’t understand it, Peter.” I took his hand in mine. As I ran my fingertips over his palm, I said, “I want to understand, Peter. Please help me understand.”
Peter took his hand back and stood to refill his coffee mug. I put my hand back in my lap and looked down at the table, more convinced than ever that something was going on. I felt tears in my eyes but I didn’t want to cry. Maybe my husband didn’t love me anymore, and I needed to know.
“It’s a guy thing, Erica. I love you, but guys are different. Maybe we’re more visual, we like to see naked women, that’s all it is.” His coffee mug was back on the table but he hadn’t taken his seat. What did that mean? He was standing over me and I had to look up at him; I felt like a child.
“What’s a ‘hotwife,’ Peter?” I asked, plunging the dagger in a little deeper. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. Acting like that, he was just trying to deflect the conversation. “Peter, I really want to know. Please tell me what a hotwife is? You watch hotwife movies, you buy hotwife books—it must be something that interests you.” I tried not to be judgmental as I looked at him. I arranged my face into what I thought might pass for a look of interest and confusion.
My stomach had tightened. I didn’t like confrontations but I really did want to know. What was so interesting about hotwives? What were they? Did he want me to be a hotwife? Is that what he was looking for? I’d done everything I could think of in bed, so maybe I wasn’t enough? I could feel my breakfast coming up as I waited for him to answer.
This time Peter sat next to me. “A hotwife is a married woman who…um…who fucks…um…other men. While her husband watches…usually. Sometimes she just…um, you know…tells him about it afterward.”
I’d figured that much out from the videos and the books. “But why, Peter? Why would a husband want to—God—let another man, you know…fuck…his wife? Doesn’t he want her? Is he just giving her away? I don’t understand why a man would do that!” I stuttered.
“Wait a minute,” I continued. “Is this just so the husbands can sleep with another woman and, somehow, ‘offering’ their wives like this makes it okay for them? Is that it, Peter? Do you want to…fuck…another woman? Aren’t I enough for you?” I so rarely said that word I had a hard time getting it out.
Peter stroked my arm. “No…No. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted.”
“Then why? What’s in it for the guy? He’s just watching! Please explain it to me, I don’t understand…” I was getting interested despite myself. Why would a man want to watch his wife have sex with someone else? It just didn’t make sense to me. I’d never stand for Peter sleeping with another woman!
“There’s something about it, Erica. It’s a huge turn on to feel the jealousy and hurt while the woman you love is having incredible sex with another man. There’s this risk that she may not come back. You…or he, I mean…can see the sex is so good that he might lose her. It’s just hot. I don’t know what else to say, Erica. When all those emotions are put together, it excites me. I’m really sorry.” Peter was trying to explain it, and he was being as honest with me as he could be.
“I’m trying to understand, honey, I really am. Do you think of me when you’re watching these videos? Is that what you secretly want me to do?” My heart was in my throat. I was terrified of the answer, but I had to know.
“No, honey. That’s not it,” he said, unconvincingly.
“Then I’m completely lost, Peter,” I said, turning away from him. “Do you masturbate while you watch? Be honest with me.”
“Yes, sometimes.” He sounded miserable.
“So…you’re having sex without me while you watch someone else’s naked wife?” My voice sounded flat, even to me.
“Erica, come with me. We’ll watch a video together.” He was nuzzling my neck, rubbing his hand over my breast. I bent my head, exposing more of my neck as his hand slipped inside my robe and began playing with my nipple. My breasts are very sensitive and it feels like the nerves in my nipples run directly to my sex. I love having my neck and throat kissed by him and I could feel a tingle starting between my legs.
“Come on, honey. I’ll try to explain it better as we watch,” he said. Now his hand was rubbing my thigh and trying to convince me to spread my legs.
“Okay, Peter. Bring your laptop to the couch. I want to sit next to you if we’re going to do this.” Part of me was hoping he’d change his mind, but I still wanted to understand this fixation. We hadn’t talked about the books yet.
Soon I was sitting next to Peter on the couch with my legs stretched out to the coffee table. My husband balanced the computer on his lap. The first video showed a pretty blonde woman sitting on a man’s lap, on his erection, while she talked to her husband as he held the camera. He was asking her how it felt and she was telling him how good it was to have another man inside her while he jacked off. She began moving faster and her speech became harder to understand until she gave up completely. As she climaxed, the video ended.
Peter had been caressing my nipple the entire time and now he moved my hand to his lap as he pulled up the next video. I was surprised that my husband was completely hard. “Are these movies that good for you?” I asked, smiling as I stroked him.
“Between watching them and touching you…” He left the sentence unfinished as the next movie started.
A dark-haired woman was on a bed with a large black man. She spoke to her husband as he filmed her playing with her partner’s cock. The camera zoomed in as she took him in her mouth. The scene shifted as the husband continued to film the black man pushing into his wife, her legs raised high in the air. His was by far the largest penis I’d ever seen, but the woman seemed to be able to take it with ease. She moaned as he entered her, and we caught a quick glimpse of the husband’s erection reflected in a mirror behind them. His face was obstructed by the large video camera he was holding. He was apparently very excited to watch his wife giving herself to a large black man.
“The interracial ones are the best,” Peter said, as his finger touched me between my legs.
“Because they tend to have bigger cocks and they last longer. Also, because they seem to know what they’re doing,” he answered.
“Does it excite you to see a bigger…you know?” I looked at him for help.
“Does it excite me to see a wife taking a big, black cock?” he asked. “Hell, yes. Look how excited she gets.”
I was getting excited, too, as my husband stroked me. I was surprised I had become so wet. On the screen, the woman’s hands were on the man’s hips, urging him to move faster, to penetrate her deeper. Despite everything, I found myself becoming turned on. Of course, Peter’s fingers on my vulva weren’t helping.
We watched as the man lay on his back and the dark-haired woman straddled him, and then guided him inside. Peter slid off the couch, leaving the laptop with me as he knelt between my legs. I continued to watch the video as his tongue swirled around my clitoris.
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