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The Hotwife Resort was the most exciting place in the world! “No holds barred” took on a whole new meaning when Mary enjoyed explosive sex with hot black studs while her husband eagerly watched. Now she can’t forget those intensely erotic memories. In desperation, she finds satisfaction on a Sybian machine, and encourages her girlfriends to take a ride on the wild side while her husband watches! ~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~ A week later Alice and I were sitting in my living room, sipping wine, and chatting. She was clearly nervous as I poured her another glass. My crafty husband had placed small “spy-shop” cameras around the house, so he could watch from the garage. We’d placed the Sybian so Alice would be facing our closet. The sliding closet door had been left open about two inches and one of the tiny cameras was in the opening, at ground level. I hoped Bill enjoyed himself. “You’re nervous. Is it because I’ll be here with you?” “No, I want you here. You’re my security blanket,” she said, patting my arm. “I’m ready to try it.” Alice picked up a bag she’d bought with her and followed me up the stairs. “Where’s Bill?” she asked. “He’s somewhere. We won’t be bothered,” I told her, careful not to tell an actual lie. Alice did the same thing I had done—walked around the machine, touching it, and putting on the attachments. She’d purchased the medium, regular dildo. Moments later, Alice came out of the bathroom, trying to cover herself with both hands. “I know, I know. We’re both woman, but still…” she said, dropping her hands and kneeling by the machine. “What do I do?” After spreading lube on the dildo and herself, Alice spread her legs and straddled the machine. “Do I have to be facing the mirror?” she asked. “There’s only so much room and so many outlets.” We had a small bedroom with only room for the bed, one nightstand, and a dresser. The space facing the closet was about all there was. “Okay,” she said as she lowered herself. I turned the rotation on first, just like Bill had done my first time. I watched as Alice’s abdomen shook. “Oh, wow, that feels pretty good,” she said before I increased the speed....
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Hotwife Voyeur Resort
Written by Thomas Roberts
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
Edited by Sandy Ebel
Copyright Thomas Roberts 2018
This book is intended 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’d had sex with men who weren’t my husband, I’d even had sex with other women at the resort. After we returned from our vacation, I questioned my new identity as a hotwife. Sometimes, I felt crushing guilt over what I’d become. Surely, my husband was as guilty as I was. Maybe the guilt was a product of my religious upbringing?
My insecurities about what I’d done almost got the best of me at times. I knew my husband wanted us to continue the hotwife lifestyle. I no longer had any doubt seeing me having sex with another person was exciting for him. I didn’t fully understand how seeing his wife making love with another man—often a man with a much larger penis than his own—could make his cock so hard. I know it had to be emotionally painful, and I knew it made him feel insecure about his ability to fully satisfy me.
I love my husband and more than that, I’m in love with my husband. He means everything to me, and I’m afraid I might lose him being a hotwife. Is it possible to separate sex from love? How was it even possible for a woman to have a deep love for one man while having satisfying, mind-blowing sex with another? Most confusing of all, at least for me, was how my husband could watch the woman he loved being… fucked… and having the experience make the sex we shared together so much better, for both of us. It made my head spin just thinking about it.
My worries were not entirely irrational. The resort was a special place. A place dedicated to hotwifes. How would the hotwife lifestyle work at home, in real life? A real world where people wore clothing and weren’t necessarily looking to hook up at every opportunity?
I beat myself up over what I must have done to my husband. Watching me throw myself at men with bigger cocks had to be devastating to him even though it had clearly excited him. I think he’d had more self-induced orgasms at the resort than as a teenager.
Through all this thinking about being a hotwife, I found I was always outrageously horny. I’d attack Bill whenever I could—whenever the kids weren’t likely to happen in on us—I threw myself at him. I wanted to be fucked! And not just fucked—I wanted to be used, pounded. I wanted his finger in my ass as he rode me.
I loved making love with Bill. I loved the closeness, the feelings of safety, and security. Sometimes he’s gentle, sometimes we both want it a little rough and frantic. I loved that we’d made two children together. My family was the most important thing in the world to me, and sometimes, it felt as though I’d nearly thrown it all away by becoming a hotwife.
I hadn’t nearly thrown it away, of course. Bill and I had done something we both found exciting, borderline dangerous, and deeply fulfilling. I found it easier to climax with my husband than ever before. I’d rarely had an orgasm from penetration before our vacation, and now, I had one every time we made love.
My body had changed too. My labia seemed to be more prominent and a deeper shade of pink as though permanently aroused. My clitoris had always been sensitive of course, but now I could feel myself rubbing against the inside of my panties, and it drove me crazy. In fact, it became so annoying, I stopped wearing panties entirely like some bar bimbo. I also gave up wearing slacks—the seam would ride up against me since I didn’t have underwear on, and on one embarrassing occasion, caused me to have a sudden and unexpected orgasm while meeting with my school’s principal.
He had watched, a small smile on his handsome face, as I hung onto the corner of his desk and tried my best not to let him know what was happening to me.
“Are you all right, Mary?”
“I’m… oh… fine. Just having a little… ah… pain,” I said, blushing bright red.
He’d walked around his desk to help me, and I collapsed in his arms as my climax passed. I’d never realized how strong and masculine he was until I was holding on to him, feeling the orgasm’s aftershocks. A part of me wanted him to take me. I wouldn’t have protested if he’d ripped my clothing off. If he’d taken out his cock, I’d have knelt on the floor and devoured him.
Fortunately, nothing of the sort happened. He had me sit until I “felt better” before sending me home sick. I was sick—I masturbated in the car as I drove. That was the last time I wore pants anywhere, for anything. I started wearing ankle-length skirts while teaching.
Bill loved the new arrangement. His wife always wore skirts or dresses and never wore panties. What man wouldn’t like it? He took advantage whenever he could which pleased me. I was desirable to him, not just to watch but to have.
I didn’t know if I wanted to be a hotwife at home. I considered what we’d done to be a wonderful break from our ordinary lives, but we weren’t at the resort any longer. Things could return to normal, couldn’t they?
Generally, sex is different for a man. His cock is right out there for everybody to see when he gets hard. They’re beautiful—hard and throbbing with veins and knobs. I love watching an erection throb and drool because of me. Men are reminded of sex all the time, it seems. Bill wakes up hard every morning.
It’s different for a woman, our sex is tucked away. We generally have to spread our legs and expose ourselves to make ourselves vulnerable and penetrated by a man. When he’s done, he leaves a part of himself inside. It seems wrong to open ourselves like that without some feeling for the man or without at least forming some kind of relationship. And here’s the crazy part… are you ready for the crazy part? We want him to do it, we crave the feelings that come with penetration by a hard man. Some of us crave a large cock—we want to feel stretched, we want to orgasm with him, we want to feel him ejaculate and leave part of himself behind.
At the resort, a man was usually exposed whether he wanted to be or not, but a woman must make choices. True, it’s hard to hide one’s breasts, but it’s the other decisions that make all the difference to the experience.
I’d had to make a choice to be a hotwife, to fuck other men and women. I didn’t always have much in the way of feelings for them or a meaningful relationship, but I wanted them, sexually. I craved them, both the men and the women.
We were home now, and I felt as though I should just want to be a wife and mother. If only I could turn off my memories and my supercharged libido.
It wasn’t long before Bill was talking about it in bed. I didn’t need much foreplay, but instead of just mounting me, he would reminisce about things we’d done on our vacation.
“Remember the ride in from the airport?” he began while stroking my breasts, his erection pressed against my hip. “How you played with James’ big cock, how you stroked the head? Remember how it felt in your hand?”
Just like that, I was back in the tiny car, driving to the resort from the airport. This time, I wasn’t touching James through his shorts, I was stroking his exposed, black erection.
“Oh, Bill, yes… he’s so hard,” I whisper-moaned as Bill stroked my pussy.
“He’s throbbing in your hand, he wants to fuck you, right now,” he said. “He wants to put you on his lap and push his big cock inside.”
“I want him to do it. Bill, I’m so sorry, I want him to fuck me before we get to the resort.” I was bucking to meet his finger as he stroked my pussy. I was urging him to push his fingers inside me while he rubbed my clit. What I really wanted was to be fucked by James!
Bill had removed the covers from the bed before we started. I was laying spread out and naked on a bare sheet.
“James was going to pull over and fuck you, I wanted him to. I wanted to see my sweet innocent wife fucked by a huge black cock. I wanted him to spread your legs and push that monster inside you,” my husband said as my moans increased in volume.
I felt my body tense. My eyes were closed. In my mind, I was back at the resort, and this time, James was going to fuck me as my husband watched. It felt so real to me.
“Oh yes,” I said as Bill split me open with his good-sized erection. “Would you have jacked off while he fucked me?”
“Yes… I want you to be a hotwife. I want you to be my hotwife,” he panted.
We slowed down, Bill still fucking me as we gazed into each other’s eyes. I was back in my own bedroom, my feet planted flat on the bed.
“You do? You want me to act like I did at the resort?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I started to push back at him with my hips. My need was growing, and I wanted him to move more inside my pussy.
“I came in Mr. McMahan’s office,” I blurted out as my hips moved faster.
“You did? Did you fuck him?” Bill was moving harder now.
“No.” I stopped moving again, so did he. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You could have. You could have fucked him if you told me about it. You can fuck anybody you want. You’re a hotwife,” he said, trying to catch his breath. He moved inside me while I digested what he’d said. I started to move against him with some urgency.
“I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to suck his cock,” I confessed in a loud voice as I neared orgasm.
“I love you, Mary,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear.
“I love you too,” I shouted as I came.
I dreamed about the resort. My dream was so vivid—the ocean was turquoise and so clear, I could see small tropical fish darting about near the bottom. Nova was on her knees between my legs, licking my pussy and sucking my clit. I was moaning and about to cum when I suddenly woke to the weak, early morning light in our bedroom.
The covers had been thrown off again, and Bill was laying on his stomach, his face buried in my pussy. No wonder I’d been dreaming of Nova. I looked down in wonder, the dream merging with reality. I was close to orgasm. I held my husband’s head as I felt my climax start deep inside me. My body was pulsing, and I felt as though I was spinning, close to blacking out as the pulses raced down my body and up my legs until they exploded in my pussy. Bill held me as my body thrashed on the bed, my mind filled with images of Nova. I even imagined I could taste her juices on my lips as I came.
My husband’s cock was a hard rod and leaking pre-cum, as he moved to lay next to me.
“Let’s talk,” he said.
I was panting as I reached for him.
“I want you inside me,” I said. “I want to feel you cum inside me.”
“I want to talk about what’s going on with you,” he said as I stroked his erection.
I rolled up onto my knees, my legs spread so he could see how wet I was.
“You want to talk about ‘feelings?’ Now? Really?” I said, running a finger between my damp folds.
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