Hotwife Hotel: A Wifewatching Romance (15 page)

Shock and horror crashed against my pleasure as I watched another spurt of seed splay across her cheek. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of watching Andre push his dirty cock past Rebecca's willing lips. The only thing that felt worse and better, was seeing, right before she swallowed him, her tiny little tongue come flickering from her mouth.

With grunt after angry grunt, he unloaded seed inside her and she took it like a willing whore.

Unable to resist myself any longer and knowing that the moment would be over soon, my hand began a furious stroking and I felt the pleasure well within me, surge through my body and come pulsing out my cock and spilling out onto the floor.

When I opened my eyes again, it was to the sight of Rebecca cleaning off the remnants of his mess, her tongue flicking along his black flesh, her lips sinking back onto him sometimes, as if she wanted more.

Scared that they would hear my breathing, I stepped backwards slowly, my cock still in hand, until I felt the door of our bedroom behind me. Opening it, I ducked inside, already feeling myself harden again at the thought that I would soon be with my wife.

Chapter 18

We have a ritual now. When we know it's going to happen. The internet stranger came and went but she didn't take him between her legs. It felt too risky, not knowing who he was. He had no hard feelings though. He told Beck that's just how it went sometimes.

Now we get to know them, or she does. We make sure they're clean and single and just looking for some fun.

They don't know that I'm her husband, I just play a part. Sometimes it's the cook, sometimes another guest. The first time that they come we size them up and give each other nods or shakes, yay or nay. Quiet nods only we can see.

If we have a consensus, she starts to play them right away. She spins a yarn, something about being a young divorcee. The marriage didn't work but she couldn't bear to leave the place so she stayed here instead. They drink to much. I go to bed. I lie in wait and listen for the telltale sounds of nervous footsteps on the stairs.

"Don't worry about the door," she always says a bit too loudly, the cue that the show is about to start.

I tiptoe across the hall and watch. She's bolder now in how she acts, in how she takes charge, like the way she did with me that first night. When it's over, she always steals away, never stays in that bed. I meet her at the door. Sometimes she walks in smiling, sometimes she falls into my arms. Every time she asks me, "Did you like that Mr. Forrest? Did you like him in between my legs?"

I never answer. I just walk her to the bed, pry her well used pussy open and sink into the feeling of another man's mess inside my wife.

We've put off starting a family, for the time being. There's still lots of time. I haven't fixed the door yet either, but the men that stay in that room never seem to mind.

I don't know what it is about watching her that keeps me coming back. I mean, I guess I know for the most part but I still don't feel like I know the core of it. But now I just don't really care. I look forward to every time she takes another man. I look forward to every time she lets me back in, the energy between us, the excitement of our dirty secret.

We've even started joking about renaming the place. Something that has a nice ring to it:

The Hotwife Hotel.

***
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