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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.



Chapter 1


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.




Chapter 2


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.

“Why?”

“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.

Soon the sensations from his mouth were too much. I found myself moving in unison with the unnamed woman as my husband worked to bring me to orgasm. I cum easily, and the dual stimulation proved to be too much as I trapped my husband’s head between my legs. What had I done? I’d just climaxed watching someone’s wife take a large black man while her husband filmed her! I couldn’t deny the sight excited me, though Peter had a lot to do with it. I moved my legs and turned off the computer. Peter sat next to me, his pants gone and his erection throbbing as I put him into my mouth.

I love going down on my husband. I love the feeling of power it gives me to make him hard, to make him throb using my tongue. I loved the taste and smell of him as I pumped his erection and sucked on the helmet-shaped head.

“Did you like it, Erica?” he gasped. Do you understand?” Peter was getting close as I nodded my head yes. I did understand it better: men are visual animals, they get off on looking. I sucked harder.

I couldn’t sleep with a man I didn’t love…except I had. I’d done it when I was single. At least the woman in the video was doing it for the man she loved. I was moving on automatic pilot, my mind somewhere else, when Peter exploded in my mouth. I love when he cums like that, not because of the taste (which I don’t enjoy at all) but because I know I’ve excited and pleased him so much.

I sat back so he could see his sperm on my face. That always excited him, though he never wanted to kiss me immediately afterward. I was confused by that, since I didn’t like the taste either but at least I did it for him. I wished he’d kiss me just to show his gratitude.

Maybe that was asking too much of him. I just smiled, wiped my face, took a long drink of coffee, and kissed him.




Chapter 3


Peter pulled me to my feet and led me to the bedroom. I tried telling him that we had things to do but he wasn’t in the mood to listen. Moments later I was on my back with Peter hovering over me. To my amazement, he was hard again.

“Close your eyes, Erica. Now picture the black guy in the movie. He’s about to fuck you. Are you ready?” I wanted to giggle. The whole thing seemed absurd. It wasn’t the black guy, it was Peter, but I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the guy from the video. Oh God, Erica. He’s going to fuck you. He’s going to fuck my wife…” Peter was trying to sound like a husband watching his wife in bed with another man.

Okay, I’d play along if it made him happy. He’s going to…fuck me…honey. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, I do. I want to see his big black cock inside you, fucking you.” As he said that, his dick slid up and down my slit, picking up moisture. I felt him part my lower lips and, as he entered me, he continued:How does it feel Erica? How does his black cock feel inside you?”

I was getting excited again, mostly because my husband was about to make love to me, but also because I was getting into the fantasy. A large black man was sliding his erection inside me; I’d excited him so much that he had to have me, even if my husband was watching.

“Oh, honey. He’s so big, he’s stretching me,” I murmured, even as I enjoyed the familiar feeling of my husband inside me. His cock is so big. I’m sorry, honey. It’s so good…” This seemed to drive Peter insane. He started moving faster and deeper than he ever had, and it felt wonderful. He pulled my legs over his shoulders and plunged deeper inside me. My husband was all I ever needed but I began to wonder what it would be like to have a thicker, longer erection. I moved my hips to take as much of him as I could.

Peter exploded inside me before I was ready. I could feel the heat and I hugged him closer, enjoying his orgasm with him. It seemed to go on a long time as my husband shouted in my ear—whatever this fantasy was about, it really excited him. I wish I could have finished with him, but it didn’t really matter if I could bring him pleasure.

We slowly untangled ourselves and I rested in the crook of his arm. I smiled as I thought about what had just happened. I’d played the hotwife (I wondered if I’d ever get used to that term), being taken by a large black man to please my husband. It had pleased him. It pleased him a great deal, and I could feel that throbbing between my legs. But what did that make me? Was I losing myself to this outrageous fantasy?

That was all it could ever be, fantasy. I’d never do something like it, never. Although, the idea of a larger man had made our love making even more exciting… Stop that! I chided myself. It’s just a fantasy for your husband. Now kiss him and start your weekend projects.

I was very firm with myself as I kissed Peter and stroked his face. Then I jumped out of bed to take a shower.


* * *


We worked in the yard all day, raking and bagging leaves, cleaning up the debris of fall. When we stopped for lunch, Peter brought up the subject again. Did you like the video, Erica?” he asked me.

I turned to look at him.I liked it because you liked it, honey.”

“I know that, but it did seem to excite you,” he said.

“I guess.” I was really thinking that it excited me because it excited him, but I didn’t think that’s what he wanted to hear. I wasn’t lying, exactly. I had found the video exciting. I found myself replaying the video in my head despite myself. I’d never seen a black man before; his manhood looked so thick, with hard veins and knots. I shivered as I thought about it and remembered the moans of the hotwife.

I replayed the scene where her head was in her husband’s lap as he filmed, the black man moving into her from behind. She was gasping how wonderful it felt, her head a blur as he rhythmically pushed inside her.

I excused myself to go inside to the bathroom, and shocked myself by pulling down my panties to find them wet and sticking to my pussy. At first I thought it was more of Peter’s sperm, but it wasn’t. It was me. I was turned on by my own thoughts.

I knew Peter was probably done for the day, but I was so excited I touched myself while I replayed that scene in my head—and what I had said to Peter in bed. Soon all I could think about was the tension building in my body and I orgasmed, alone, in the bathroom.




Chapter 4


That night I read one of Peter’s hotwife books as we lay in bed. It was particularly well written, and the tension built until the wife gave herself to another man while her husband watched. At the end, she went back to him and they were happily married ever after. I wondered if it ever worked out that way.

But the book was hot. It had been written from the husband’s perspective and I was starting to understand the appeal, at least a little. The book did a good job explaining how the act and the emotional pain all tied together to create a sexual high for the man. Naturally, the wife loved it—her husband giving her permission to enjoy endless orgasms. It seemed like a win-win for the wife, at least the way the novella explained it. Of course it was fantasy, because I couldn’t imagine a real life wife ever enjoying being with another man. I was naïve.

That night I dreamed about the book, only it was me with the black man from the video and Peter watching. I woke remembering the dream, with Peter sleeping peacefully at my side and my vagina once again leaking. This time I did wake my husband. As soon as I touched his penis, he grew an erection. I was amazed at how fast it grew and how hard it became. I was on top of him, guiding him inside me, before he was even fully aware.

“Erica, what…?”

I held my fingers over his mouth as I humped his hips as fast as I could. I needed to finish this time. He felt so good inside me as I rubbed my pubic mound against his, riding him, taking my own pleasure. Peter grabbed my breasts, squeezing them as I moved. It felt good, but I wanted his hands on my hips. I wanted to feel his need for me as I orgasmed.

Oh Peter, oh Christ…oh!” My orgasm seemed to last for a very long time. Just as I was coming down I felt Peter orgasm too, his hot seed flooding me. I loved that feeling as much as I loved anything. It was primal, erotic, dirty, and I loved it.

We lay cuddled up again, spent from a day and night of love making. I read one of your books tonight. One of your hotwife books,” I told him.

“And? Did you like it?”

I kissed him and stroked his softened cock.What do you think?” I said before rolling over. He spooned me, his cock no longer soft as he pushed it between my ass cheeks. This was interesting: just the hint of interest in hotwives and my husband turned into a satyr. I wiggled against him, just to keep him interested, and fell asleep.

The next day Peter started in again. Let’s try it,” he said.

“I’m not sleeping with another man, Peter,” I said, in no uncertain terms. Reading a book or watching a video is one thing, but that’s it. I’m not a whore.”

Peter looked shocked.Of course you’re not a whore. You’re just a beautiful, wonderful woman who happens to be married to me and to love sex. I wasn’t thinking of you actually fucking another man, I was thinking of playing a game.”

“What kind of game, Peter?” I asked. A harmless game could be fun. I liked how the fantasy was making Peter want me more, and I liked how it made him a more enthusiastic lover—but I was not interested in being with another man.

“We go to a bar or a nightclub…” he began.

“No,” I said.

“Why not? You haven’t even heard the idea yet.”

“You’re going to leave me alone and watch to see if some other man tries to pick me up, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Well…”

“Here’s what will happen. Either I’ll have to fend off a whole line of horny, disgusting, married men or, maybe even worse, I’ll be left alone with nobody to talk to or dance with, or whatever. No.

“Why can’t you talk to a guy without having sex?” he asked.

“Because guys expect something from a woman. You may not know it but if a guy talks to a woman for a while, buys her some drinks, he expects something. At the very least he expects a phone number from her and the promise of a date, otherwise she’d blow him off before he spent money. Do you understand that? Are you willing for me to give out my phone number or to go on a date with another man? Unlike you, Peter, women don’t think about sex all the time. I think about it, but I think about it with you, my husband. Do you understand?” I asked.

Peter was silent as he thought about what I’d said. I didn’t wait for him. I left the room to get busy with my Sunday relaxing while he watched football.

Two days later, Peter handed me an envelope. A million thoughts went through my mind as he kissed me and left for work, leaving me with a folded letter in my hand. Was this it? Was he leaving me? Was this some sort of ultimatum? Why did he need to put whatever it was in writing? I didn’t understand; we’d always been able to talk before. I was hurt and angry as I unfolded the paper with trembling hands.


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