Best Hotwife Erotica Vol.3: Caught! Read online

  She stands up. She has somehow removed her swimsuit bottoms and she’s stark naked. Her pale body is smooth as glass and she looks almost like an erotic statue.

  “Can you do that for me, Nathan?”

  He has no response, of course. Who would?

  She moves toward him and I can see that he is utterly confused about what he should do. My wife climbs on top of him and grabs his cock with her hand. She’s on her knees, crouched over him, holding his cock like a joystick and moving it along her slit. I can hear how aroused she is; a sloshy, slurping sound comes from between her pussy lips, and I can see her juices sliding down the tip of his cock, sticky and shiny. She lowers herself onto his cock, taking him into her pussy, and I can see from his face he’s not quite sure what to make of that, given what she just said.

  “I just need to get your cock nice and wet,” she says, sliding up and down his shaft. “Do you think you can handle that?”

  If I were this guy, I know I would have already blown up right inside of her. I see his whole body tense as he fights hard to restrain himself. I find myself rooting for him a little, because at the end of the day, I want to see Effy take all that dark meat in her ass.

  Effy bounces on top of him, and she throws her head back and sucks in her breath. She’s riding him quickly now, and I know this guy can feel her soft wet pussy clamped around his dick, and the only thing he can do is try not to enjoy it too much, not if he wants a taste of her ass.

  “Oh!” Effy yells, and she keeps bouncing but I can see in the light that she’s just gushing all over his cock. “Oh, fuck! Oh, your cock feels good! Oh it’s going to feel so good in my ass!”

  He pushes her away from him, because if he doesn’t he’s going to fill up the wrong hole, and Effy laughs as she steps down into the hot tub with one foot. Her face is flushed brightly with her orgasm. “Don’t disappoint me,” she says.

  Nathan, I can see, can’t concentrate on what Effy is saying or he’s going to burst. Effy leans over the side of the hot tub and – I notice with delight – she does it so her wet, engorged clit and ass are visible to me as she slides her fingers into her cunt between her legs and up to her ass. Nathan stares, and so do I, as she dips her fingers into her stretched pussy and then, first one and then two, she plunges her own fingers into her ass.

  She treats Nathan to a little moan as she does this, and I see his cock bounce so hard I think maybe he’s coming.

  He holds it together, though. Sick to my stomach, I watch as he takes his cock into his hand, and waddles over to my wife. He stands over her, watching her plunge her fingers in and out of her ass.

  He takes her hand and stops her, holding her wrist to her ass.

  Effy turns her head and looks back at him, and I’m only sad I don’t get to see more of his cock stretching her hole as he sinks toward her body. Effy lets out a twisted, strangled “Oooohhh!” as her ass gets filled with cock.

  “Oh fuck, get it all in, fill me up,” she says.

  She turns and pushes up on her arms so she can see his cock going in and out of her ass. She bites her lip and stares as the shaft plunges in and out of her. “Oh, fuck, yes, that’s just what I need! Don’t come yet, keep fucking me, I like getting fucked in the ass!”

  She lifts her knee up and puts it on the edge of the hot tub, and now I have a good view of Nathan’s balls slapping against her fingers as she works her fingers down to her cunt and plays with herself. I still can’t see her ass getting fucked, and I’m a little disappointed. Still, the slapping of skin against her thighs and the sight of his hairy balls crushing her cunt are pretty good.

  “I’m going to cum!” Nathan says, grabbing her hips.

  But he’s already dumping his load into her, I can tell by the way he shouts the last word. He slams his prick deep into her and freezes there, shouting, as his cum fills my wife’s ass until it starts to leak down to his balls and drip into the water.

  Effy shouts as she furiously plays with her clit and makes herself come again, and I can only imagine the feel of her hot, tight ass squeezing Nathan’s cock as her orgasm shudders through her.

  They pause for a moment, panting, and I consider coming around the corner and scaring the shit out of the two of them, but I want to see one more thing. (And I also don’t really know who this Nathan guy is, so I’m avoiding getting hit in the face).

  His cock flops out, finally, still semi-hard, and I stare at Effy’s filthy little hole, all stuffed with cum. White cream dribbles out of her ass as her eyelet pulses closed, and I watch it snake between her thighs.

  Nathan stands back, taking a satisfied look for himself at my wife’s ass, oozing with cum.

  I am breathing so hard now, and the night has gotten so cool, that my breath is starting to turn into steam. I worry for a second that someone will hear me, panting on the ground like a pervert, watching my own unfaithful wife, my cock hard against the ground.

  But Effy has made a promise to her lover, and I want to see if she will keep it. His cock hasn’t really deflated much: she can make short work of getting him hard again.

  Effy arches her back in a feline stretch, and then she languidly turns around. Nathan is still panting, staring at her. I’m sure he just can’t quite believe his luck.

  Effy’s eyes land on his cock, and she smiles. She reaches out and takes it in her hand. A shiver runs through me as my wife’s elegant, well-manicured white hand closes around Nathan’s dark, veined cock, the glint of her wedding ring winking at me.

  His cock pulses in her hand. She smiles again and sinks slowly to her knees, or maybe a seated position. It’s hard to tell how they’ve arranged themselves in the hot tub, giving me the view that I have: a profile of Effy’s face as she extends her tongue and rubs his cock all over her lips. His cock, that was just moments before buried deep in her ass, bounces to life instantly, and my cock screams against my pants and the ground. I watch Nathan’s dick disappear inch by inch into Effy’s mouth.

  All the way to the back of her dirty, slutty throat. She lifts her eyes and locks them on Nathan’s gaze as she sucks his dick. She begins to bob up and down on his cock, and I see Nathan’s whole body tensing up as she works him up with incredible speed to another climax. Her lips are sealed around his dick and she moves her mouth from the very tip to the very base.

  Nathan loses it and grabs her by the back of the head, pushing her down to his balls.

  And then Effy – that great slut of a wife of mine – slides her tongue out between his cock and her lower lip, and in a scene of such twisted vulgarity it’s hard to describe, starts to swipe her tongue all over Nathan’s balls.

  I can’t take it anymore: I was going to hold back from grabbing my own cock and jacking off but this is way too much. I lift up my hips and reach into my boxers, where my cock is thrashing against the material, and grab my dick. I have to get into a pretty fucked-up position to do this and keep my eye on the floor, so I can see Effy as she slurps on Nathan's cock and licks his balls. I start to jerk on my dick and as soon as Nathan yells, “Fuck!” and starts filling my wife’s mouth with his second creamy load of cum, I can feel myself going over the edge.

  Effy swallows it all, looking right up at him as he smashes his hips into her face and pounds his seed into her throat with his hand on the back of her head. The immaculate, prim and proper Effy is streaked with cum and spit and her hair is strung all over her dirty face when he’s done with her, and the sight of a pearly-clear string of spit and cum dribbling from his dick to her mouth as he pulls out of her throat sends me over the edge.

  My cock explodes and I don’t do a very good job of stifling the sound I make. I don’t even hear it, myself, but I’m still looking through the crack when Nathan and Effy obviously do. They both freeze for a moment, and then they look in my direction.

  I bite into my lower lip. My cum is spilling all over my fingers and into my pants, hot and seemingly endless. This orgasm is hitting me hard, and I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing the whole
scene away.

  When I open them, I can see that Effy and Nathan don’t see my eye peering at them, and they don’t see where the sound came from, and they don’t really care.

  Effy shrugs, and they laugh.

  I stare as they come together, not kissing, but fondling each other contentedly in the way that lovers who are nothing more than dirty fuck-buddies do. I wonder how long this has been going on, how I missed it, how I got so off the track.

  Effy slides her swimsuit bottoms on, and Nathan takes another moment to fondle her.

  I’m sitting like an idiot, with my ass in the air, so I slide down to lie flat and watch the rest of this painful scene. My feet hit something, there is a scrape of metal, and something plastic-sounding tumbles onto the ground.

  Nathan’s head snaps back to where I am hiding, and now his eyes narrow.

  Effy looks scared.

  I freeze. My heart is pounding.

  In all this time, I’ve never gotten caught.

  There really isn’t anywhere for me to go, I think. I decide not to move, because I think my foot is resting against something that will fall down if I do. What the fuck do I do?

  Nathan is getting out of the tub: he’s turning, he’s taking a step.

  And then Effy turns right toward where I am – for the most part; she’s like two inches off and staring more where my chest is. And she makes this face.

  Do something, she mouths.

  I’m still thinking about what that means when my mouth opens and takes the lead. “Effy?!” I yell. “Effy! Is that you?” I sound angry. Nathan freezes.

  Effy looks at him helplessly. She really does deserve an Oscar for the fear she plasters on her face, the way she darts about and looks like she has no idea what to do next. “It’s him,” she says, her voice a quivering panic.

  Nathan looks confused for a second, so she clarifies. “My husband!” she hisses.

  And that boy is off. He snags a towel from a chair, leaves his boxers, and takes off. I yell Effy’s name again for good measure, just to give him a little thrill as he runs away.

  Effy’s smiling, twirling his suit with her finger in the water, when I come around the wall to the hot tub.

  She bites her lip and grins.

  “I really thought I had you,” she says staring at her finger as the material of his suit swirls around it. Her eyes snap up to mine.

  I shimmy out of my pants, figuring no one will be headed this way at this time, not really caring if they do. I smile at her. “You did,” I say. “Right to the end. Who is that guy, anyway?”

  Effy shrugged. “Someone from San Fran. Junior guy.”

  I raise my eyebrows and sink into the tub. Effy’s shoulders are pale and pretty above the clear water, her form ethereal in the moving shadows and light. “That was quite a show,” I say.

  She shrugs. “I knew you were there.”

  “How long have you been doing this guy?” I say, pulling her toward me by the ankle. This game started months ago, and I never saw this guy or got a whiff of him the whole time.

  Effy bites her lip again and gives me a look of mystery.

  “You’re caught,” I say, as she folds her legs up and over me. “Rules are, you have to tell me everything.”

  I play with her lip, and my cock is getting hard again just thinking of all the things she just did with Nathan, the filthy man from San Fran.

  Effy smiles. “You saw it all.”

  I narrow my eyes. I don’t believe her.

  She makes a gesture of incredulity. “I was so busy misleading you with John, and then Dave, that I never had any time to actually do anything.”

  “So… John? Nothing with him?”

  She shakes her head. She smiles. “I planted that text once I knew you thought it was John. You really thought I’d fuck John?”

  “He seems like an okay guy.”

  Effy rolls her eyes. ‘And Dave? He’s my boss.”

  It did seem rather… silly now.

  But then again...

  “And you’re trying to tell me you met this guy since… what, ten o’clock, and just screwed him?”

  Effy shrugs. “I met him a few times before.”

  I narrow my eyes again.

  “What? At lunch meetings. I promise.” She’s laughing.

  I move my hand down to her pussy and dip my fingers into her excitement. “What if I don’t believe you?” I say.

  Effy grins. She’s wet and slippery around my fingers, and I’m going to slide right into her unfaithful, stretched cunt and put my fingers in her ass and make her bounce on my dick until I fill her third hole up with cum and she’s totally defiled.

  “You have to,” she answers. “Those are the rules.”

  caught on camera

  by kenny wright

  The photos are there, tucked under a stack of filing folders in our second story office. I almost miss them in the dark as I root around for our extra iPhone charger, when the glossy corner catches my eye.

  I tug at it automatically, even as I scan the clutter for the charger. It’s only when I pull an image of the bare shoulder of my wife into view that I pause and realize what I am looking at.

  I click the desk lamp on and square up the photo. It’s one of my favorites: black and white, taken from behind her as she poses, laying down. Her sweater hangs off her shoulder, revealing the milky white perfection of her skin, bisected only by the slender strap of her black bra. She’s half-looking over her shoulder, her lashes silhouetted, the rich tumble of her hair spilling over her face just enough to obscure it, to grant her anonymity.

  Even still, it’s impossible to hide her easy beauty. I see the girl I fell in love with 15 years ago. I see the bud that blossomed into my wife.

  I flip to the next photo, another 8x10 black and white glossy. This one, a portrait, captures her sitting on a stool, staring directly into the camera, the first hint of a smile curling the corners of her mouth. She’s wearing the same clothing as the first photo—an oversized sweater that covers her like a blanket, yet leaves her legs bare and suggestive.

  Of all the photos and drawings and paintings of her, this one has always been my favorite. I can’t believe I forgot about it.

  Kylie modeled back in college—not for fashion or clothing or catalogues. She’s not tall enough for that, and never took her beauty seriously enough to get into it. She was in college for a well-rounded liberal arts degree—eventually earning a double major in Art History and English Literature. Sitting and posing for art classes was just a fun lark.

  So she told me later on, when I first stumbled upon these photos. We were just dating back then, and she seemed a little embarrassed to tell me of her modeling experience. She was sitting for her doctorate at the time, and Kylie the Model clashed with her idea of Kylie the PhD. Of course, as a guy, suddenly learning that your girlfriend is a former model was pretty validating—and intimidating at the same time. I was dating someone hot enough that she could be a model.

  Kylie did a good job laughing it off. It wasn’t real modeling, of course. They had all types of models for the art classes. She was just one of many. It became just another facet to this fascinating woman, like where she grew up, or that she never went to a frat party despite going to a party school, or that she was a bigger Star Wars fan than I could ever be—and I’m a pretty huge Star Wars fan.

  “Dan-iel! Stop. It!” My daughter’s screaming downstairs jolts me out of my memories. “I told you. Stop it!”

  I sigh, tucking the photos back under the papers and going back downstairs to help Kylie deal with dinner. Our daughter, Ashley, just turned six. Our son, Daniel, is three. They play really well with each other...most of the time. When they don’t, though, it’s like World War III—and when they’re both hungry and tired in the six o’clock hour, it’s World War III a lot.

  Kylie is in the midst of the maelstrom, balancing Daniel on her hip as she tries to stir fry broccoli in a wok. Ashley is pouting in the corner, a sticker book left forg
otten on the kitchen floor.

  “There you are.” Kylie gracefully hands Daniel off to me on her way to the cutting board, where she's cut cubes of tofu, ready to dump into the pan. “Can you take care of them?”

  “Of course.” This is how we typically divide and conquer—the person not cooking distracts the kids. It's one of many strategies we’ve developed over the years, the comfortable familiarity of best friends.

  For a second, though, I stare at her and see the younger woman who posed in the photos upstairs. See the woman who wore the beginning of a smile beneath her long, tumbling hair.

  Thing is, if anything, she looks better now than she did back then. The years have refined her, chiseling out her cheekbones like a craftsman would to stone. Her light brown hair is shorter, darker. Her hips are wider, her butt rounder. But every little detail of maturity only adds to her mystique.

  “What?” She looks behind her, then back at me, then touches her face. “Do I have something on my face?”

  I shift Daniel onto my side and step forward. “Yeah. Here, let me get it.”

  I lean forward to kiss her, and she only realizes that I'm joking when my lips are nearly on hers. She laughs as our mouths meet. The peck is sweet and G-rated because of the kids.

  “I want Mommy!” Daniel moans. The moment shatters and Kylie’s exasperation is back. I scoot Daniel out of the room and do my best to distract him as Kylie finishes up dinner.

  In the whirl and chaos that is dinner time with two young children, followed by cleanup, followed by bedtime, Kylie’s time as a model slips into the recesses of my mind, replaced once again by Kylie the Mom.

  We get ready for bed ourselves, following the routine. I brush. She brushes. I change into my pajamas as Kylie finishes up in the bathroom. She emerges wearing her glasses, her teeth clean, her face washed, her hair twisted up in a messy bun, and moves to the dresser at the foot of the bed.

  I watch her over the top of my book. With her back to me, in a long and loose yoga top, I remember the photos buried under the clutter of the desk—particularly when she reaches up and pulls her hair free from the elastic tie and lets it fall across her shoulders. She wiggles out of her jeans, baring her legs and forcing the juxtaposition of the coed Kylie with the present one.