don_jetman
Moderator
Hotwife Confessions, vol.1
by Don Jetman
The following is fiction - a collection of brief vignettes that could easily be
taking place in your own city, neighborhood, or even your own home. If you're a
wife, put yourself in the scenes. Open your mind to the fantasies, and to the
potential satisfaction you might enjoy by living them. If you're a husband,
consider the possibility that your wife has already lived these fantasies, and
look deeply within yourself, to the tiny flicker of excitement in your gut as
you read them.
Coming Clean
We had planned this - for her to have any man she wanted for the first time,
and to have him as I watched. We had prepared for his visit with some wine,
maybe a bit too much. But now he was here, in our bedroom, his hands running
up and down her body, cupping her breasts through her blouse.
She had wanted someone powerfully built and confident. Someone who would
"take charge" when he arrived to fuck her in front of me. A man who would know
what to do and wouldn't let her or me change our minds. And he hadn't wasted
any time being just that. Telling me where to sit and watch. Stroking her face and
neck as he told her how fuckable she was.
She stood frozen for a while, seemimgly terrified of what might come next. She
let him unfasten her slacks, tuck his fingers inside the elastic of her panties, and
push them halfway down her thighs. The crisp, black material of her slacks and
the pale blue panties, bunched tightly together just above her knees, bound her
legs as though he had planned it to prevent her escape.
His hand went to her lower belly, stroking it gently, making her shiver. Her eyes
were fixed on me, uncertain whether to show me how much she liked it. When he
lowered his hand and spread the lips of her wet sex with his fingers, it was no
longer a secret.
He whispered to her a few times and she looked away. A sheet of ebony hair fell
over her face as she shook her head, hiding anything more her eyes might have
told me. That and her black pubic hair where his hand worked was all I saw. Until
I heard her reluctant whimper.
"Do you fuck other men behind your husband's back?" he asked her.
"No," she answered.
"I think you do."
"No, never," she told him.
"Don't lie to me. I can tell when you're lying."
She glanced at me, then looked back into his eyes. He had undone all the buttons
of her blouse. His hand was inside, prying under her bra. I could see the outline
of his fingers over the nipple of her right breast. She was breathing deeply, shivering.
"Almost never," she whispered.
"When?" he demanded. "How long ago?"
Her eyes met mine again for a second.
"Don't look at him! When was the last time you fucked a man behind his back?
Remember, I can tell when you're lying."
A minute passed, then two. She was struggling to keep her composure, determined
not to give in. I knew she had never fucked anyone else. She had just
surrendered to his suggestion for a second, telling him what he wanted to hear
as her body responded to him. It was just part of the game. Right?
"Years ago - two years..." The words erupted from her, words that suddenly
sounded like the confession of a long-kept secret.
"Who?" he demanded.
It came pouring out of her. I wasn't sure if she still knew I was in the room -
or maybe she just no longer cared.
"Jeff - it was Jeff, my husband's boss. At a party - his company Christmas
party."
She was whispering. Did she think I might not hear?
"Where? Where did you fuck him? In his office?"
"His - his bedroom. Not at work. The party was - at his house."
"You fucked him with your husband there? In the same house?"
"I - I didn't plan it - it was just that once. I was drinking - everyone was
drinking."
"So, you got drunk and fucked your husband's boss? Like a common slut?"
"He - we - I was upstairs, in the bathroom. He opened the door - I forgot to
lock it. Then - then we were kissing. Then - we were on the bed - having sex. It
was - it just, happened. "
"Did he cum inside you? Did you let him cum in you?"
I saw a tear escape down her cheek.
"We - we didn't plan it - we were drinking - and then it just happened. It
didn't mean anything. It just happened - and, and it was over so soon, in just a
few minutes. We never did it again - never - just that one time - just once..."
"So you went back to the party, back to your husband, with his boss's cum inside
you?"
"I - I couldn't tell him. He never knew."
It was like she was in some kind of trance, hypnotized by him, letting the words
spill out over her trembling lips. My reaction was shock, but surprisingly, not
anger. Jeff had been a great boss, and a good friend, a genuinely nice guy.
Barbara had always liked him - I could tell by the way she smiled at him, by the
way her voice became a little more sultry when she was around him. All the signs
had been there, although they were so subtle I found it a little amusing at the
time. I guess I found it a little exciting as well. Now, imagining them together
in Jeff's bed while I was celebrating in the same house overcame any jealousy I
might have felt. My God, she really did fuck him - my "innocent" Barbara. She
came back to me minutes later that night with Jeff's cum still inside her,
smiling at me, touching me, like nothing had happened. Funny, I always thought
I'd be able to tell when she had sex with anyone else, especially just after it
happened.
"Would you have fucked him again if he wanted you? If he kissed you when the two
of you were alone?"
"No - I - I mean - I don't know. I guess, maybe - maybe - oh God..."
He had been undressing her as they talked. He slacks had worked their way down
around her ankles as he fingered her.
"Are you thinking about him now? Thinking about him sticking his cock in you,
fucking you in his bed?"
She was trembling, her eyes closed, her head thrown back as she thrust her
pelvis against his hand. Then it happened.
With a sudden shudder, she came, her body shaking with spasms, her voice
trailing off into a long, quiet moan.
***
Dirty Secrets
"C'mon, I told you plenty of my fantasies. Just one - a new one - one I'd never
guess."
She was lying beside me in bed, enjoying the touch of my fingertips over her
belly. She rolled her head toward me, her eyes peering seriously into mine. It
was nearly dark. My wife's face, the angelic features now pale, almost glowing
in the darkness, was startlingly beautiful. She hesitated, thinking.
"Tell me," I begged softly. "You know you can tell me anything."
"Can I?" she answered.
I gazed into wide, black pupils set into an unflinching porcelain mask. What was
behind it? I had to know.
"Do you remember Adam?"
I didn't. No one came to mind. Was it someone I met briefly, while she was in
school?
"The singer, in your band, when we first dated?" I could barely see her lips
move in the dark.
I remembered him as being a mediocre talent, usually late, and an arrogant
smart-ass. I never got to know him too well outside our rehearsals and bookings.
I didn't like him much.
"I used to watch him all the time on stage. He wore those tight pants - I loved
looking at his body - those muscular thighs, that tight butt. Didn't you ever
notice how big the outline of his penis was?"
No, I hadn't. In fact, I didn't remember his tight pants, or much else about him
on stage. And I definitely didn't remember her drooling over him from the
audience. Her fantasy was certainly fiction.
"He had all these girls around him, wherever you played. Sometimes during your
breaks he would disappear with them. You don't remember? It happened all the
time, in every club."
I did remember how popular he was with the girls. She was right - but they
weren't only groupies. They would flirt with him while their boyfriends were in
the club, sometimes while they were at their sides. I could never understand
why. I figured someday he'd get taken apart by some angry boyfriend or husband,
but it never happened. He always had his choice of any girl in the room, and
never hesitated to take advantage of it.
"I wanted to flirt with him so much that it took everything I had to resist. But
I couldn't, because I knew you would have been so mad at me. You didn't know it,
but he came on to me every time you weren't around. I used to fantasize that I
was one of those girls, that he would tell me he wanted to have sex with me. I
didn't care who might hear - in fact, I wanted everyone to hear him proposition
me, except you, of course. I would act embarrassed and tell him that I was your
girlfriend, and that I didn't do things like that.
"But later we would sneak off together, outside, to his car. I would peel those
tight pants off him and get to see him naked - those thighs, that butt, and how
huge his penis was when he was hard. I would beg him to do it, to have sex with
me, but to hurry before you found us. We would have sex in his car - no kissing
or anything, just quick, spontaneous sex. I had imagined for the longest time
how big he would be inside me, and how good it would feel to cum with him, how
exciting and how dirty it was, all at the same time.
"When you went on stage again, I watched every inch of his body and replayed
every second of the sex with him, over and over. I smiled at you like I always
do, and you smiled back. Knowing I had just been with him, and that you had no
idea, was especially exciting for some reason. For once I was the bad girl, the
one he picked, the one who went off and had sex with him. I had this dirty
secret, and as long as you didn't know about it, I could bring back every detail
of that night whenever I wanted."
Her eyes drifted away from mine now and then, as though she was reliving the
night while telling me. I edged my fingers between her legs. She was soaked.
"Pretend I'm him," I whispered. "Pretend you're with him, in bed this time,
fucking him when I'm not here. Will you do that?"
Her fingers found my erection, squeezing a drop of pre-cum onto her hand as she
milked me. With a knowing smile, she pulled me on top of her.
"Again," she whispered, smiling in the darkness. "I'll do it, again..."
***
Happy Birthday, Darling
"I have a surprise for your birthday."
It's the middle of summer - a weeknight. She's changed out of her proper white
blouse and charcoal business skirt into a robin's-egg blue tank top and loose
white shorts. I can see the shape of her nipples through the top.
She leads me to our bedroom. It's dark, lit only by a few small candles placed
around the room. She seats me at the foot of the bed, puts on some slow, sexy
music, and ties my wrists to the arms of the chair. My bonds are fragile,
symbolic - soft ribbon tied lightly in a single pass. It's dark red, but looks
almost back in the shadows where I sit.
"What do you want more than anything?" she whispers in my ear.
I'm thinking, then start to answer, but she answers for me.
"Shhhh - I know what you want. Something unselfish - something we can both
enjoy." And she turns and leaves me there, alone in my birthday chair.
She returns a minute later with a man in tow. He's tall, huge, built like a
bodybuilder. She seems so small and fragile beside him - his arm the size of her
thigh, her hand lost in his. He wears a mask, tight blue jeans, and nothing
else.
She strips him slowly, running her hands over his body. His erection seems
almost angry, bobbing and twitching, anxious to find its way inside her, but she
caresses it with feather touches, in awe of its beauty and power.
In time, he strips her as well. They kiss and fondle each other like familiar
lovers. My wife goes to her knees and sucks him. His erection is huge, and she
licks and sucks like it's the most delicious thing she's ever tasted.
He picks her up in his arms, puts her on the bed, slides between her legs, and
makes love to her before my eyes. I can see him sliding in and out of her, his
thick meat stretching and tugging at her pussy-lips. Her legs circle his waist
in a tight knot. They orgasm together. She moans and bucks against him. He
grunts and thrusts, pumping his semen into her.
After a minute, he simply gets up, silently gathers his clothes, and leaves. My
wife comes over to me, unzips my pants, takes out my cock, sits on my lap, and
puts it inside her. She kisses me deeply, riding me slowly, up and down. I feel
her breath on my neck. I feel his semen inside her. It's wet, slippery, robbing
me of the usual tight fist of her pussy, all friction now gone. She whispers,
her lips and tongue dancing over my ear, "Happy birthday, Darling. Do you like
my present?"
***
by Don Jetman
The following is fiction - a collection of brief vignettes that could easily be
taking place in your own city, neighborhood, or even your own home. If you're a
wife, put yourself in the scenes. Open your mind to the fantasies, and to the
potential satisfaction you might enjoy by living them. If you're a husband,
consider the possibility that your wife has already lived these fantasies, and
look deeply within yourself, to the tiny flicker of excitement in your gut as
you read them.
Coming Clean
We had planned this - for her to have any man she wanted for the first time,
and to have him as I watched. We had prepared for his visit with some wine,
maybe a bit too much. But now he was here, in our bedroom, his hands running
up and down her body, cupping her breasts through her blouse.
She had wanted someone powerfully built and confident. Someone who would
"take charge" when he arrived to fuck her in front of me. A man who would know
what to do and wouldn't let her or me change our minds. And he hadn't wasted
any time being just that. Telling me where to sit and watch. Stroking her face and
neck as he told her how fuckable she was.
She stood frozen for a while, seemimgly terrified of what might come next. She
let him unfasten her slacks, tuck his fingers inside the elastic of her panties, and
push them halfway down her thighs. The crisp, black material of her slacks and
the pale blue panties, bunched tightly together just above her knees, bound her
legs as though he had planned it to prevent her escape.
His hand went to her lower belly, stroking it gently, making her shiver. Her eyes
were fixed on me, uncertain whether to show me how much she liked it. When he
lowered his hand and spread the lips of her wet sex with his fingers, it was no
longer a secret.
He whispered to her a few times and she looked away. A sheet of ebony hair fell
over her face as she shook her head, hiding anything more her eyes might have
told me. That and her black pubic hair where his hand worked was all I saw. Until
I heard her reluctant whimper.
"Do you fuck other men behind your husband's back?" he asked her.
"No," she answered.
"I think you do."
"No, never," she told him.
"Don't lie to me. I can tell when you're lying."
She glanced at me, then looked back into his eyes. He had undone all the buttons
of her blouse. His hand was inside, prying under her bra. I could see the outline
of his fingers over the nipple of her right breast. She was breathing deeply, shivering.
"Almost never," she whispered.
"When?" he demanded. "How long ago?"
Her eyes met mine again for a second.
"Don't look at him! When was the last time you fucked a man behind his back?
Remember, I can tell when you're lying."
A minute passed, then two. She was struggling to keep her composure, determined
not to give in. I knew she had never fucked anyone else. She had just
surrendered to his suggestion for a second, telling him what he wanted to hear
as her body responded to him. It was just part of the game. Right?
"Years ago - two years..." The words erupted from her, words that suddenly
sounded like the confession of a long-kept secret.
"Who?" he demanded.
It came pouring out of her. I wasn't sure if she still knew I was in the room -
or maybe she just no longer cared.
"Jeff - it was Jeff, my husband's boss. At a party - his company Christmas
party."
She was whispering. Did she think I might not hear?
"Where? Where did you fuck him? In his office?"
"His - his bedroom. Not at work. The party was - at his house."
"You fucked him with your husband there? In the same house?"
"I - I didn't plan it - it was just that once. I was drinking - everyone was
drinking."
"So, you got drunk and fucked your husband's boss? Like a common slut?"
"He - we - I was upstairs, in the bathroom. He opened the door - I forgot to
lock it. Then - then we were kissing. Then - we were on the bed - having sex. It
was - it just, happened. "
"Did he cum inside you? Did you let him cum in you?"
I saw a tear escape down her cheek.
"We - we didn't plan it - we were drinking - and then it just happened. It
didn't mean anything. It just happened - and, and it was over so soon, in just a
few minutes. We never did it again - never - just that one time - just once..."
"So you went back to the party, back to your husband, with his boss's cum inside
you?"
"I - I couldn't tell him. He never knew."
It was like she was in some kind of trance, hypnotized by him, letting the words
spill out over her trembling lips. My reaction was shock, but surprisingly, not
anger. Jeff had been a great boss, and a good friend, a genuinely nice guy.
Barbara had always liked him - I could tell by the way she smiled at him, by the
way her voice became a little more sultry when she was around him. All the signs
had been there, although they were so subtle I found it a little amusing at the
time. I guess I found it a little exciting as well. Now, imagining them together
in Jeff's bed while I was celebrating in the same house overcame any jealousy I
might have felt. My God, she really did fuck him - my "innocent" Barbara. She
came back to me minutes later that night with Jeff's cum still inside her,
smiling at me, touching me, like nothing had happened. Funny, I always thought
I'd be able to tell when she had sex with anyone else, especially just after it
happened.
"Would you have fucked him again if he wanted you? If he kissed you when the two
of you were alone?"
"No - I - I mean - I don't know. I guess, maybe - maybe - oh God..."
He had been undressing her as they talked. He slacks had worked their way down
around her ankles as he fingered her.
"Are you thinking about him now? Thinking about him sticking his cock in you,
fucking you in his bed?"
She was trembling, her eyes closed, her head thrown back as she thrust her
pelvis against his hand. Then it happened.
With a sudden shudder, she came, her body shaking with spasms, her voice
trailing off into a long, quiet moan.
***
Dirty Secrets
"C'mon, I told you plenty of my fantasies. Just one - a new one - one I'd never
guess."
She was lying beside me in bed, enjoying the touch of my fingertips over her
belly. She rolled her head toward me, her eyes peering seriously into mine. It
was nearly dark. My wife's face, the angelic features now pale, almost glowing
in the darkness, was startlingly beautiful. She hesitated, thinking.
"Tell me," I begged softly. "You know you can tell me anything."
"Can I?" she answered.
I gazed into wide, black pupils set into an unflinching porcelain mask. What was
behind it? I had to know.
"Do you remember Adam?"
I didn't. No one came to mind. Was it someone I met briefly, while she was in
school?
"The singer, in your band, when we first dated?" I could barely see her lips
move in the dark.
I remembered him as being a mediocre talent, usually late, and an arrogant
smart-ass. I never got to know him too well outside our rehearsals and bookings.
I didn't like him much.
"I used to watch him all the time on stage. He wore those tight pants - I loved
looking at his body - those muscular thighs, that tight butt. Didn't you ever
notice how big the outline of his penis was?"
No, I hadn't. In fact, I didn't remember his tight pants, or much else about him
on stage. And I definitely didn't remember her drooling over him from the
audience. Her fantasy was certainly fiction.
"He had all these girls around him, wherever you played. Sometimes during your
breaks he would disappear with them. You don't remember? It happened all the
time, in every club."
I did remember how popular he was with the girls. She was right - but they
weren't only groupies. They would flirt with him while their boyfriends were in
the club, sometimes while they were at their sides. I could never understand
why. I figured someday he'd get taken apart by some angry boyfriend or husband,
but it never happened. He always had his choice of any girl in the room, and
never hesitated to take advantage of it.
"I wanted to flirt with him so much that it took everything I had to resist. But
I couldn't, because I knew you would have been so mad at me. You didn't know it,
but he came on to me every time you weren't around. I used to fantasize that I
was one of those girls, that he would tell me he wanted to have sex with me. I
didn't care who might hear - in fact, I wanted everyone to hear him proposition
me, except you, of course. I would act embarrassed and tell him that I was your
girlfriend, and that I didn't do things like that.
"But later we would sneak off together, outside, to his car. I would peel those
tight pants off him and get to see him naked - those thighs, that butt, and how
huge his penis was when he was hard. I would beg him to do it, to have sex with
me, but to hurry before you found us. We would have sex in his car - no kissing
or anything, just quick, spontaneous sex. I had imagined for the longest time
how big he would be inside me, and how good it would feel to cum with him, how
exciting and how dirty it was, all at the same time.
"When you went on stage again, I watched every inch of his body and replayed
every second of the sex with him, over and over. I smiled at you like I always
do, and you smiled back. Knowing I had just been with him, and that you had no
idea, was especially exciting for some reason. For once I was the bad girl, the
one he picked, the one who went off and had sex with him. I had this dirty
secret, and as long as you didn't know about it, I could bring back every detail
of that night whenever I wanted."
Her eyes drifted away from mine now and then, as though she was reliving the
night while telling me. I edged my fingers between her legs. She was soaked.
"Pretend I'm him," I whispered. "Pretend you're with him, in bed this time,
fucking him when I'm not here. Will you do that?"
Her fingers found my erection, squeezing a drop of pre-cum onto her hand as she
milked me. With a knowing smile, she pulled me on top of her.
"Again," she whispered, smiling in the darkness. "I'll do it, again..."
***
Happy Birthday, Darling
"I have a surprise for your birthday."
It's the middle of summer - a weeknight. She's changed out of her proper white
blouse and charcoal business skirt into a robin's-egg blue tank top and loose
white shorts. I can see the shape of her nipples through the top.
She leads me to our bedroom. It's dark, lit only by a few small candles placed
around the room. She seats me at the foot of the bed, puts on some slow, sexy
music, and ties my wrists to the arms of the chair. My bonds are fragile,
symbolic - soft ribbon tied lightly in a single pass. It's dark red, but looks
almost back in the shadows where I sit.
"What do you want more than anything?" she whispers in my ear.
I'm thinking, then start to answer, but she answers for me.
"Shhhh - I know what you want. Something unselfish - something we can both
enjoy." And she turns and leaves me there, alone in my birthday chair.
She returns a minute later with a man in tow. He's tall, huge, built like a
bodybuilder. She seems so small and fragile beside him - his arm the size of her
thigh, her hand lost in his. He wears a mask, tight blue jeans, and nothing
else.
She strips him slowly, running her hands over his body. His erection seems
almost angry, bobbing and twitching, anxious to find its way inside her, but she
caresses it with feather touches, in awe of its beauty and power.
In time, he strips her as well. They kiss and fondle each other like familiar
lovers. My wife goes to her knees and sucks him. His erection is huge, and she
licks and sucks like it's the most delicious thing she's ever tasted.
He picks her up in his arms, puts her on the bed, slides between her legs, and
makes love to her before my eyes. I can see him sliding in and out of her, his
thick meat stretching and tugging at her pussy-lips. Her legs circle his waist
in a tight knot. They orgasm together. She moans and bucks against him. He
grunts and thrusts, pumping his semen into her.
After a minute, he simply gets up, silently gathers his clothes, and leaves. My
wife comes over to me, unzips my pants, takes out my cock, sits on my lap, and
puts it inside her. She kisses me deeply, riding me slowly, up and down. I feel
her breath on my neck. I feel his semen inside her. It's wet, slippery, robbing
me of the usual tight fist of her pussy, all friction now gone. She whispers,
her lips and tongue dancing over my ear, "Happy birthday, Darling. Do you like
my present?"
***