The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (18 page)

What the hell was he supposed to do now? Leave?

“Fuck, that’s hot, honey.” The camera was still on, focused on the place they’d been joined, her husband’s eyes on the screen rather than her. Couldn’t the man see the difference?

Come dripped from her.
His
come. Spence wanted to be the one to taste her.

But Keith had climbed on the bed, and Spence let himself be pushed out. He was the other man. He’d done his job. Now it was her husband’s turn.

Keith handed Zoe the camera. “Here. Make sure you get this.” He crawled between her legs, held her butt in his hands, and put his face to her, licking, sucking, devouring.

Holding the camera, Zoe looked up to Spence. She parted her lips as if she had to say something. He couldn’t watch, but he couldn’t leave. So he rolled down beside her, turned her face to his and kissed her, open mouths, tongues tangled. She moaned. He told himself it was for his kiss, not the man between her legs.

He palmed her breast, stroked first one nipple, then the other. He tweaked and pinched, felt her body jerk, drank her moans. He didn’t care what was happening with the camera. He devoured her mouth, then her arms were around his neck, her body sinuous against his. Suddenly, he was the one devoured, dragged down into her. She began to quake against him, and he pinched her nipple hard, the way she loved. Heat suffused her skin, radiating through him, and when he tried to pull away, to watch the climax steal across her face, she held him tight.

“Don’t stop kissing me, please don’t stop.”

He told himself it was his mouth that made her come, his touch on her breasts, his body on hers. She came for
him.

* * * * *

“Do me again,” she said. “You’re hard. I can feel it. Fuck me again. Please.”

“Sweetheart?” Keith was down between her legs, eyes wide. Astonishment maybe. She couldn’t be sure.

She’d almost forgotten he was down there. The cataclysmic orgasm had seemed to be all Spence, his mouth on her, tongue in her, hands on her.

“He’s ready,” she said, her voice feeling harsh in her throat. “He’s hard. I want him again. Now.” She moved her legs, not kicking Keith out of the way, but pushing him nonetheless.

“Fuck,” Keith said. “So soon?”

Spence didn’t say a word. Zoe answered for him. “He can do it three or four times. Let him do it.” She didn’t say please. She wasn’t going to beg Keith. But she added “You can video it” to appease him. He picked up the camera from the bed where she’d dropped it.

This time she rolled Spence to his back and climbed on top. “My turn,” she said softly as she gathered him in her hand and slid down until he filled her. She closed her eyes, leaned back, hands braced on the bed, and rode him. Oh God, this was what she needed, Spence inside her.

“Christ, that’s beautiful.” His voice was like a caress.

She opened her eyes, not wanting to miss the sight. He held her hips, pushed her into a rhythm. Looking down, he was magnificent inside her, thick and hard. She rose until there was just the tip still inside her, then slammed down on him.

“Yeah, baby, just like that.” He put a finger to her clitoris, circled.

At the head of the bed, Keith watched his camera screen, his lips parted almost rabidly. “Fuck him, sweetheart, yeah, fuck him good.”

She tuned him out, watching Spence’s face. Faster, harder, she rode him. His face tensed. He bared his teeth. There was nothing but harsh breathing and the slap of their flesh. Heat building, spiraling down, shooting out. She rode through her climax, used it to squeeze him, drive him wild. Until his fingers dug into her hip and she felt him spasm inside her.

She pulled up, worked him in her hand, held his gaze, and let his spray cover her belly, her mound, her pussy. His cock still in her fist, still pulsing, she ran her palm over her stomach, the heat of his come against her skin. Raising her hand, she licked it, a long swipe of her tongue, swallowed, licked her lips. Then she leaned down, put her hand to his mouth. “Lick it,” she demanded. And he did, eyes on her, holding her, speaking to her.

Hunched over him, she did it again, rubbed the come from her belly, tasted it, shared it with him. Then she took him with her mouth, sharing it that way, too. Sharing everything.

Chapter Sixteen

It had been so fucking hot, Keith could almost have taken her himself. But he’d been afraid that in the last moment, he’d lose the erection. He couldn’t let the other man see that.

His heart was still beating hard. How aggressive she’d been, riding him like a fucking truck driver, then making him lick his own come off her hands. It was a visceral punch to Keith’s organs. He’d wanted to jack off on them.

He hadn’t intended to come out of the closet until the man was gone. But he’d been driven to taste her right then. He couldn’t wait. It had been so goddamn good. So nasty, dirty, and debasing. Both for her and for him. Tasting another man’s come inside her, a beast of a man who’d fucked her like a whore, ridden her hard.

The man had finally left, pulling on his jeans, his shirt, his shoes, watching her on the bed while he dressed. She was sleeping now. In the bed the other man had fucked her in. Their bed, thoroughly debauched.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t use the man’s name. Maybe because a name elevated him. But without a name, he was just the other man, the cocky asshole, a role he had played so well.

Just as Keith had played his role of cuckold, letting another man fuck his wife right in front of him, cleaning the come out of her as if that was all he deserved. He could feel the rise in him. He needed it now, the movie, reliving it.

With only the glow of his monitor illuminating his office, he slid the disk in.

The man threw her on the bed. Yeah, cock of the walk. Keith undid his slacks and took his cock in hand. It wasn’t the rigid staff of his youth, or even what it had been five years ago, but it was hard enough to stroke, hard enough to feel the sexual kick. Everything grew as he watched.

What an asshole, that cocky grin after he’d made her come the first time. It wasn’t as if Keith hadn’t made her scream for his tongue in all their years together, but he’d definitely been one-upped. He pumped faster, harder, as the man shoved his cock down Zoe’s throat, fucking her mouth like it was her pussy.

It was so fucking good. Forced onto her hands and knees, her lover drilled her. She’d taken every inch of that length of meat, pounding back against him. Keith’s wife, the fucking whore. He loved it. He loved her. The lady and the whore. What man could ask for more?

Then the guy flipped her to her back and thrust deep.

Keith leaned back in his chair, his hand flying. He could barely ejaculate, and when he did, it took a while. It took something extra to really get him off. Watching her getting fucked so good was the something extra his body required.

He loved watching sex, loved watching her. He’d waited so long for her to finally take a man to her bed in front of him.
For
him.

On the computer screen, she moaned and panted. Keith stroked harder, feeling things working, moving within him, building. He brought to mind the taste of come in his mouth mixed with her sweet familiar flavor. Extraordinary and nasty, and the nastiness made it hotter. He loved his sex dirty, and until they’d started the hotwifing, he’d never achieved that with her. She’d given him so much when she’d given herself to other men.

She locked her ankles at his back and forced the man to a hard, tight fuck. Keith could no longer make out what they said, whispers, sweet nothings. Except that the asshole wasn’t the sweet-nothing kind of guy. She reacted, groaning, gasping. And Keith reacted to her sounds. God, yes, it was more than he’d felt in a long time.

She reached down, squeezed his balls, and it was like an explosion between them. They quaked and quivered together. Simultaneous orgasm was a myth, but Keith thought he saw them achieve it. In the midst of their ecstasy, he felt it rise in him. Overpower him. Dragging him down, down, down, and he came hard, not shooting like he had in his youth but a slow pump dripping down over his fist. Fuck, hell, damn, yes, he’d done it. He’d achieved orgasm, hot and heavy and draining.

He opened his eyes, still stroking his cock slowly. They filled the monitor now, the man raising his head from the crook of her neck, taking her with a kiss. A long, sweet kiss before he pulled out of her, Zoe still wrapped tight around him, holding him as if she couldn’t let go. A look passing between them.

Keith had been so busy filming, he hadn’t seen the look, hadn’t focused on anything but the sex.

“Fuck, that’s hot, honey.” His own voice, excitement threaded through it, then the camera zoomed in on the big cock and Zoe’s moist pussy, come slowly dripping from it. That’s all he remembered, her pussy, the cock, the come, his need to taste it, to be a part of it. The camera bounced around, ended up in Zoe’s hands, and he was there between her legs.

The sight didn’t excite him the way he’d thought it would. Was his hair thinning? He could hear her moans, and the camera moved, jostled, falling until the lens was obscured by a rumple in the sheets.

But there was still her voice—“Don’t stop kissing me, please don’t stop”—and the sounds of her climax. Then she was telling him the guy was hard again and she needed to fuck him. “He can do it three or four times. Let him do it.”

The camera righted again, focused on the tableau, Zoe the magnificent rider.

Keith heard awe in the other man’s voice as he muttered, “Christ, that’s beautiful.” It had been in the moment, and Keith thought nothing of it then.

He watched her now, though, and a chill stole into his chest. He listened to them, watched, heard his own words urging them on. “Fuck him, sweetheart, yeah, fuck him good.”

Her face froze his heart.

Had she ever looked at him like that, her features radiant?

When it was done, when the man’s come was all over her belly, her pussy, she scooped it up with her fingers, licked it, and put her hand to the other man’s mouth, forcing him to lick it, too. Then she kissed him with it.

Keith’s chest felt like water was filling his lungs, turning to ice, cutting off his breath.

He watched his wife’s video three more times. He told himself he hadn’t seen anything. He’d imagined the look between them. It was just sex, hot and nasty, the way he’d wanted.

Yet he was terrified it was something far more.

* * * * *

Keith had allowed her to go on a date the following Friday. Then another on Saturday of the Fourth of July weekend. He hadn’t asked her to call him, but he’d wanted a video each time. When she got home, he’d made her raise her skirt so he could lick her. There was a strange, desperate feel to it. She’d faked the orgasms. Then he’d taken the video to his office, closed the door, and watched it on his own, not coming to bed until after she was asleep.

Zoe felt slightly sick even thinking the word
fake
. All she could concentrate on was the next date with Spence. She was in the grip of mania. Lust. She couldn’t get enough. She secretly texted Spence while she was at work. Dirty, filthy, exciting texts she deleted before going home.

She felt like she was living on borrowed time; each date had the feel of being the last one. It wasn’t anything Keith said, not even anything he did. But there was something odd about him. She told herself it was that they’d started something new, that there was one man, not a stranger, with whom she had a relationship, and they had to get used to the change.

She could have believed that excuse if it weren’t for the fact that thoughts of Spence crept into almost every waking moment.

The awful thing was not having anyone to talk with. Things were so much easier when you talked it out with a friend. But she’d stopped talking to any of her friends since she’d gotten into this hotwifing thing. Honestly, how could she explain it? So all she had was her husband and her lover. She couldn’t tell either of them she was afraid she was in over her head.

Instead, she snuggled closed to Spence in his big bed, his arm around her as she played with the hair on his chest, swirling her fingers in it. Sunday night, three weeks and their third date since the night with Keith.

“You know what I want?” Spence said, his voice lazy and sated after making her come countless times and having two climaxes himself.

She smiled. “My mouth on your naughty little appendage down here?” She gripped him hard in her hand.

“Little?” he queried with a raised brow.

She laughed. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I am so far from cocky. Yes, I want your mouth on my
huge
cock, but I also want to take you up north for a weekend. There’s an awesome place on the coast called Sea Ranch.”

“I know it,” she said. “Near Mendocino.”

“Yeah. Think your husband will go for it?”

Something shifted inside her, rose into her chest, tightened around her heart. It was the first time tonight that they’d mentioned Keith. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him.”

It wasn’t like meeting a man when she was traveling. This was very different.

“Maybe I should ask his permission. Like a gentleman. One man to another.”

The other man. That’s what he was. But there was a terrible voice inside her saying that Keith had somehow become the other man.

“Do you want to go with me?” he murmured. “Do you want me to ask him?”

She swallowed. God, yes, she wanted it. That, in itself, was dangerous, how badly she wanted it. She should tell him no, it was going too far, they needed to stick to dates like this. Just sex. Instead, she heard herself saying, “Yes. Ask him.”

“I’ll invite him to lunch,” he mused. “All very civilized.”

“That sounds good.” She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to analyze how Keith would react. So she asked about the past, her voice light. “Tell me how you broke your nose.”

“A fight,” he said, his tone slightly harder.

“Duh.” She wanted more, wanted to know everything about him. “Playground fight?”