Hotwife Hotel: A Wifewatching Romance (3 page)

When I'd spent everything I had, she kept sucking until it became almost painful, until I had to push her away. She came off and crawled back up my body, I could smell myself on her breath. She kissed me on the cheek.

"My turn."

The two words were all I needed to hear. Dropping to my knees I pushed the fabric of the skirt up over her waist, exposing the thin strip of underwear that covered her bare pussy. I yanked it aside, the fresh scent of her sweetness invading my nostrils and making my head swim.

I pushed her thigh and she raised a leg, parting her lips and letting me invade her with my tongue. She was soaked, a sopping wet mess of excitement that drooled from her pussy onto my chin as soon as I started eating her.

She moaned. I felt her fingers in my hair. I felt her pussy tighten slightly. Moving my tongue up to the taut nub of her clit I pushed a finger in between her legs. She moaned again, louder this time and her body sank onto my hand.

As I fucked her with my finger, my tongue lashed at her tender bit of flesh, the way her body moved around me making me hard even though I'd just come. I looked up to see her lost in bliss, her eyes closed, her back arching out from the wall.

Her pussy squeezed around my finger, once, twice. The third time, her fingers tightened around my hair as she sank even lower and sang another moan. As her climax rippled through her, I did my best to keep my pace.

As soon as she was done, she crumpled onto me, almost sending me crashing against the wall. I lowered her slowly down and we both sat there on the floor until we'd caught our breath.

It was the most stunning first date I'd ever had.

"You're fun," she finally said, when we were all done mulling over what had just transpired. "Pizza?"

I sat there staring at her, shaking my head, a stunned smile playing along my lips. "Marry me", is what I wanted to say. All I managed was a groan of "Of fuck, please, yes!"

She burst into laughter and pressed her cheek against my arm.

Chapter 3

"Way'll all be focked wit dis fockin' starm comin' in I'm tellin' ya!" Sam Fisher yelled up at me over the gurgling of the engine at the back of his boat.

I looked up at the gulls playing in the breeze against a clear blue sky. "Maybe they're wrong?" I countered.

He jumped onto the dock, mooring line in hand and threw it around the bollard. "Nah, they're not wrong. Have you seen the radar?"

"Not today. Our internet's out again."

"Yer what?"

I shook my head and smiled. I was pretty sure he'd made that same joke the first time we'd met. And every time I'd seen him after that.

"It's the glowing thing Sam. The one you're scared of."

"Oh dat ting!" he called out, climbing the gangplank and packing his pipe.

Yep. Sam was a fisherman, sailor, tour boat captain, east coast kind of guy. He was born with a pipe in his mouth.

"Come on ya silly bugger. Ye can use mine."

Sam Fisher was one of the first people we'd met when we'd arrived in Port Clareton. He was our age, maybe a few years younger, and had grown up there. He'd worked the oil rigs for a while before coming back, buying a boat and settling down here on his own.

We had come to Port Clareton on his boat. The place was accessible by road in the summer only, but it was much easier just to boat in. The real estate agent had recommended Sam when he'd sold us the house. It wasn't long after we were sitting at his place over rum and cheap beers, laughing at his barely understandable banter and off-colour jokes.

Sam had helped us fix the place we'd bought up during the winter to get it ready for the tourists who would hopefully be coming in the spring and summer.

It had been a crazy move, a crazy decision to change our lives like this. See, Rebecca and I were great together. We'd started dating after that first night and we'd gotten married a year after that. Everything was perfect. We both liked staying in, we both liked booze, we liked each other. Nothing, though, had ever lived up to that first night. Which was fine, except when it wasn't.

I often wondered if we'd met too young. She'd actually been nineteen that night, to my twenty-five. I always knew I'd want a family, she was not so sure. The first few years were good and then...then we just started trying our best.

But it didn't seem good enough for either of us. She didn't know what she wanted. At first it was a career in journalism, then a PhD, then maybe writing. I was practising as a psychologist by then but not enjoying it as much as I had thought I would. I ended up too busy she ended up too bored and one night after a particularly vicious fight it looked like it all might end.

That's when she got the email. Her great-uncle had died. He had a house in Newfoundland. The attorney needed to know if anyone in the will was interested in buying the others out or if it should go up for sale.

"Where?"

"Newfoundland," she said, her voice softening after our quarrel. "Oh, they sent pictures."

I sat down next to her on the couch and leaned in over the tablet. That house had brought us closer already. When she turned to me, there was a glimmer in her eye, the shadow of a smile playing along her lips and a question on the tip of her tongue.

I don't know how I knew, I just knew what she was thinking. "You want to move to Newfoundland and live in the house, don't you?" I asked calmly.

"I mean, kind of. Don't you?" she replied.

I looked at her and she already seemed transformed. Just at the possibility.

"I mean, yeah. I do."

Her smile, a smile it felt like I hadn't seen in years, widened across her lips. I felt that energy, the same energy I'd felt the first night we'd met, humming in between us. She put her tablet down and pressed her lips against mine.

My cock hardened immediately. We hadn't had sex in a while. Feeling her that close to me again, that
willing
was the perfect rush.

I sank onto her, pressing her into the couch as my hand fumbled under the hoodie she was wearing. When I found her breast, I cupped its perfect curve in my palm, relishing the delicious heat it gave. She moaned, just a tiny little sound as I kissed her deeper, hungry from being starved. When I found her nipple it was already stiff and ready.

Pulling her hoodie over her head, I watched as those two perfect, delicious breasts tumbled out. I sank my mouth first onto one, then the other, kissing them and tugging at the nipples with my teeth.

When I pushed my hand past the elastic of her tights she didn't push me away. She spread her legs and I watched her hips rise to meet my hand. When I found the patch of hair above her mound, it was soaked.

She moaned louder this time as I pressed my fingers in between her sopping folds. She hadn't let me handle her like this in weeks but I didn't care. Pushing further, I felt myself slip inside her hot tunnel as I watched her feet rise off the ground.

"Oh John," she whispered as I impaled myself inside her and plundered her breasts with my mouth. I was desperate to taste her.

She spread for me eagerly as I pulled the tights from her legs and threw them to the floor. Her pussy smelled perfectly sweet and I felt my cock harden completely as I sank my mouth onto her folds.

She put her hands behind my head, grinding against me until I found her clit. It was hot and stiff and ready I felt her shake a little as I took it between my lips and sucked it a little. Nothing compared to eating her. I loved it almost more than sex.

Her back arched up off the couch as we found a common rhythm. She was tugging at my hear now but I didn't care. Looking at her eyes closed and the beautiful strain across her face, I felt the first twitches of a climax in her thighs.

I pushed a finger up under my chin, found the hole and pushed myself inside. She moaned. Her body curled even higher as I felt her legs rise in the air. Curling my finger, I touched her upper wall.

"Oh John!" she called out, her eyes popping open at the suddenness of my intrusion. She started rolling back and forth in time with my furious lapping and the curling of my finger. Before long I felt the gentle clenching of her pussy as a climax shook her and made her moan.

I was so hard by the time she'd finished it was all I could do to keep myself from coming with my pants on. Pushing them down without bothering about the belt, I sprang out and took myself in hand. She opened for me slowly, her eyes lazy from the orgasm. I pressed my throbbing cock to that soaked pussy. She was so wet I easily drove myself inside.

It didn't take long. Eating her out always did that to me. It always pushed me to the edge. As my shaft slid inside that sopping tunnel I watched her look up at me and smile. That smile drove me over the edge. With a shout I felt my cock pulse, splashing seed across her pussy walls. I rammed myself hard and deep inside her until I was spent completely. I fell out of her and collapsed beside her on the couch.

She didn't move or try to put on her clothes. We lay there for a while holding hands, like we'd used to do. When she looked at me again, she was smiling.

"Still want to do it?"

"We just did..." I replied in mock surprise.

She giggled and slapped me on the arm. "Move, stupid."

"I absolutely do."

So we did. We started trying to figure out what we could do there, how we could make a living. Turned out there wasn't a hotel or bed and breakfast for miles around. We decided to go and check it out. The place was fucking beautiful.

Rolling green hills with low shrubs turned into sheer white cliffs that sank into the sea. The air smelled like salt and fish and wind. We hit it off with Sam right away. We signed the papers to buy the others out as soon as we got home.

Sam had helped a lot that first year, even through the winter. He was kind of scraping by making ends meet this way and that and the prospect of a tourist trade in tiny Port Clareton had him very excited.

We'd almost frozen fingers off together, had a wall fall down on us and nearly exploded a tank of propane. By the time spring rolled around again, we were pretty good friends.

Sam was always there when we needed him and we tried to be there for him, too. One night over drinks we figured why not try selling package deals like fishing vacations together with the bed and breakfast. I put the website together and we started getting bookings just a few days after that. Now that summer was on its way, things were about to get busy.

"So whatcha think of that there Andre fella I delivered to you earlier?" Sam asked as we were stepping into his house.

I shrugged. "Seems like a good enough guy. What's he out here for? You going fishing with him?"

"No," Sam answered, "that's why I ask, see? I don't know what he's doing all the hell of the way out here."

"Well, whatever it is, it's his business."

"I suppose..." Sam had a way of not finishing a sentence that made it clear there was more to be said.

"I guess you want to make it your business?"

"I didn't say that!" he snapped. "You want a coffee?"

"Yeah, I'll take a coffee. I'll just check my email and be right back." I stepped into the little nook where Sam kept his computer. Turned off. I settled in and picked up an aging copy of
Firearms and Ammunition
and began to flip through it as the machine whirred to life.

"Thing is, ya see," Sam's voice came over the sound of the water starting to roll in the kettle. "I suppose I just worry about a dark fella like that losing his way around here. Falling into the sea or tripping on a rock or something. I don't think they have big cliffs like we do. Down where he's from."

I rolled my eyes again and stepped back into the kitchen.

"Sam," I said, levelling him with my gaze. "Are you being a racist?"

"What?!?" he exploded, almost knocking the cups he'd prepared off the kitchen counter. "Ya can't call a man a racist for carin' about someone ya lout!" he shouted, waving his anger towards me with his massive arms. "I just figured ya might want to say something to him is all. Tell him to be careful!"

I sighed. "Sam, I don't think we're gonna get that close with the guests."

"Whaddya mean? Close?"

"I just mean, the guy probably has his reasons for being in Port Clareton and if he wants to share them I'll be happy to listen. Otherwise, I think I'll just leave him alone and trust that he can figure out how to not fall into the ocean. Thanks for the tip though!" I said, mocking him cheerfully and stepping back into the nook where the computer had fought its way through a boot and was now whirring like mad at the login screen.

"Hey Sam!" I shouted, "Can you come log me in?"

"It's titties!" he shouted back. "T-I-T-T-I-E-S!" I heard the faint sound of a bearded man giggling.

Of course it was. "You're not supposed to tell people your pass...ah whatever," I muttered, typing it in.

An electricity ran through me as I clicked on the browser icon. Should I? Would there be time? Would Sam come in and see what I was doing? My pulse quickened and instead of going to my email, I typed in a different address.

So I kind of have a little secret.

I like porn. I know, I know, me and every other guy on the planet. The reason I like it though, is a little different than everyone else, I'm pretty sure.

I like porn because somewhere in the dark, smelly recesses of my cranium I have a desire. Late at night, if the internet's working because sometimes it doesn't in this place, I sit at my computer surfing for the perfect porn. But I'm not looking for something crazy, tentacles, hentai whatever else. No.

What I sit there late at night hoping for, is that on one of these porn sites or a pic site or
somewhere
in the vast, perverted expanse of the internet, I'm going to find my wife.

So no big deal, right? I'm sure lots of guys have a similar thing. Well lately, I'd been doing a little more than that. Lately I'd been doing something weirder.

I found a site for personal ads. One of those flashing banner things you get while you're watching porn. I clicked, just because whatever I had rolling was getting boring and I was kind of tired. So I clicked and it was the kind of site people go to if they want to have an affair.