Seven Dates: A Different Kind of Hotwife (6 page)

“I was so relaxed that it took me a moment to realize he was no longer in my mouth, that he was kneeling over my legs. I felt his hardness press against me. He reminded me to breath, and then he put it in. It didn’t even hurt. It just felt, I don’t know, obscene. And good. Yes, Kellen,” she said, finally answering my question, “it felt good when Raj sodomized me.”

She paused to make sure I was still paying attention, and despite my intention to maintain a posture of slightly amused detachment, I was rapt.

She took full advantage. “He was amazing. He went on forever. I remember thinking beforehand that I hoped it would be over quickly. But the longer it went on, the more I hoped it would never end.”

It took me a few moments to realize her story was at an end. “That’s it?” I asked.

She nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s a little personal. Raj and I had such an amazing connection. You deserve to know what happened. But I want to keep some of it private.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I can see that.”

She frowned a little and caught it. That was not the reaction she was expecting. I think that another heartfelt declaration of my remorse at that moment might have won her back over. But crazy as it may seem, her story had triggered a thought in my head. A terrible, evil thought, but at the time, I was in the sway of its inescapable logic. I didn’t want this to end… not yet.

I cleared my throat. “I hope you don’t have another date tomorrow night.”

She looked at me hopefully. “Well, I do, but I could cancel….”

“Yes, please do. I need you to come with me to a fundraiser.”

“A fundraiser?” she asked, confused.

“Donald is throwing it. For Bruce Bryce.”

She was shaking her head. “No way, that man is a Neanderthal.”

“Which, Donald or Bruce?”

“No way am I going.”

“Yes, Joanie, you are. It is important for my job. Don’t worry, I’ll give twice as much to Ipolito to balance it out, but we need to go.”

“God, Kellen, you are an asshole.”

“I’m sorry Joanie. I know you’re upset with me, and I know we have issues –“

She stood up. “Fuck you.” She stormed out of the room.

Ouch.
I wondered if I’d overdone things. Oh well, it was done. And anyway, our reconciliation would have to wait for some time when her ass wasn’t still throbbing from taking another man’s cock. I’d been a dick, and I was willing to grovel to get Joanie back, but there was a time and place even for that.

I didn’t see Joanie before I left the next morning. I was pretty sure that was intended on her part. I actually thought I heard her stirring, but she didn’t leave the bedroom until I was gone.

In the office, I secreted myself away. I had a ton to do, three separate contracts to write, with no help from legal. Odds are I was fucking something up, but it couldn’t be helped. I couldn’t risk getting the lawyers involved.

I did take the time to text Joanie once.

[Kellen]: I’ll send a car by to pick you up. And please dress up nicely for tonight. Love you.

Her reply was less than gracious.

[Joanie]: Fuck you.

Still, I was pretty sure she’d show up. Her desire to mess with me was perfectly consistent with making an appearance. Indeed, it would give her a good opportunity to really teach me a lesson. It was that intention I was counting on.

I finished up the contracts, and printed out three sets of each. I checked my watch. 6:30pm. Just enough time to head over, grab a drink and get the lay of the land before the car service dropped Joanie off.

***

Donald wasn’t particularly happy to see me, though he obviously couldn’t say anything. He was, after all, throwing the fundraising, and my two thousand dollar check would go in his column. Still, he wasn’t above throwing a barb my way.

“I thought you leaned a little pink?” he noted as he accepted my money.

I smiled. “I’ve been thinking a lot recently. You’re really a mentor to me, you know.”

He shook his head. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Okay, I admit it, I just wanted the opportunity to snoop around your medicine cabinet.”

“Try not to fall in the pool.”

I nodded thoughtfully, and then proceeded to the open bar.

I was on my second martini when Joanie arrived. She scanned the room. Spotting me, she stalked over, a scowl firmly in place. I leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she blocked me with her hand.

I handed her a glass of champagne.

She took a sip.

“You look great, by the way.”

And she did. She was wearing a classy, sheer, satin gown. A single bare shoulder. Dark blue and paired with a well-selected assortment of gold costume jewelry. Sexy without being slutty. Appropriate, but still certain to attract a lot of attention from admiring men and jealous women.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I figured even if I didn’t have a date, I might be able to continue my education with someone I meet tonight.”

Bingo!

I tried to look anxious. “Look, Joanie, I know you’re still upset at me.”

“Yes I am,” she acknowledged eagerly.

“Just please, please whatever you do, stay away from Donald. Just do that one thing for me, okay?”

“Well, I can’t avoid him completely. It is his house.”

I sighed as if defeated. “Okay, yes, you need to acknowledge him, but you know what I mean. Please Joanie, I’m begging you.”

She smirked. “I’ll do my best.”

I opened my mouth as if to speak, but I didn’t say anything. The better to convey the impression that I was so exasperated as to be speechless.

“Look, I need to schmooze a little. Do you want to join me?”

She shook her head. “No, I think I’ll stay by the bar. I prefer to hang out with the working people instead of having to pretend that taxes are just too damn high on the job creators. Jerks.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

As I walked away I did cast a nervous glance at some of the wait staff. The two barkeeps were older guys, and most of the wait staff were women. There was a cute Hispanic kid bussing trays. He was a risk. She might decide the best way to mess with me was in a way that would also allow her to make a statement about class solidarity. But ultimately, I was betting on the fact that she’d look to give me a more personal jab.

I circulated slowly, joining various conversations mid-progress, which wasn’t difficult. I just needed to mutter a few catchphrases.

Well, I don’t think anyone needs more convincing that Romney was the right choice in 2012.

That Elizabeth Warren is an ivory-tower communist.

Can you believe we still haven’t gotten to the bottom of Benghazi?

The ability of these guys to repeat the same mantras over and over as if they were profound wisdom was a nice reminder that despite all the money, most business people have the intellectual depth of a kiddie pool. Still, it meant I could seem involved without having to put any real effort into it, which meant I could stay focused on my real mission.

There! Across the room, I spotted my wife sidling up to my boss. He smiled at first at the pretty lady approaching him, and then scowled as he placed her as being with me. He tried to extricate himself from her by pulling them into a discussion with another cluster, but I knew Joanie would be too persistent to be ditched that easily. When Donald tried to slip away, Joanie was close behind him.

He gave her an exasperated sigh, but seemed to decide it was best to get it over with, whatever she wanted. I presume that he was expecting some sort of pitch on my behalf. He was scanning around the room, looking for some escape, but I noticed his expression gradually change and become more focused on my wife.

I wondered what she was telling him. If I had to guess, I suspect she’d hooked him by complaining about me and inviting his commiseration.

Kellen is such an asshole sometimes.

Yes, yes, Mrs. Graham. Can I call you Joanie? He exasperates me too. I’m sure he told you about the latest at work.

Sympathetic nod.
He’s so immature sometimes. Never admits his mistakes.

A shared chuckle.
Well, we need to do the best we can.

I just wish he were more like you. I mean, look at this house.
They look around.
Shows how hard you work.

Smiling.
I’ll give you a tour sometime.

Eager.
Why not now?

I have all these guests.

Oh, they won’t mind. It’ll just take a minute.

Donald scans the room. Who’s he looking for? Me? I lean forward into the group I’m in.

“Ha ha, exactly. It’s like they’ve learned nothing from the collapse of the Soviet Union!”

I’m not even sure what my group is talking about, but the line works for almost anything.

I looked over the shoulder of a gray haired, ruddy-faced man. Donald was still looking around. For his wife? She’d just disappeared into the kitchen, arguing with the caterer. For Bruce Bryce. No, too early for him. He’ll breeze in later, give a quick stump speech -- small business owners, Keystone XL, simplify the tax code. This crowd will eat it up. He’ll collect his checks and go. But that’s not until later. People are still arriving. The till isn’t full up yet.

Donald looked back at my wife. She batted her eyelashes, twirled her hair. For a girl who sometimes acts so asexual, so reserved, she knows how to turn it on when she wants. If nothing else, all of this made me wonder how much of her sexual repression can be traced to me. Something to think about. But not right now.

I watched in both shock and yet with expectations confirmed as Joanie and Donald made a furtive escape from the room.

I followed them, cautiously. I didn’t really have to worry about losing them. Donald’s house is big – a seven bedroom, six bath, McMansion, but not so large that I could really take a wrong turn. The only real issue was whether he’d take her upstairs or down.

Down, as it turned out. They took the main stairs. I knew I could catch up with them if I took the spiral stairs out of the kitchen. I dashed past the caterers, walking with purpose to avoid questions.

Once down in the basement, I listened for voices. Hearing none I scooted into the downstairs bar. I had to admit, it was a neat idea. Donald had built a small British-style pub in his basement, complete with a pool table and darts.

I could hear their voices from across the hall, inside his cozy home theater, but as their voices got louder, I realized they were coming my way. I considered just dropping behind the bar, but I had second thoughts. Instead, I wedged myself into a corner, behind an old pot-belly stove that I suspected was just for show.

It was lucky I hadn’t hidden behind the bar because Donald made a bee line there, pulling out a couple of mugs and pouring them each a stout. Joanie hates dark beer.

“Ooh, I love Guinness,” she cooed.

I stifled a chuckle.

“Cheers,” he said genially as they clinked mugs.

Joanie shook her head sadly. “Do you think Kellen will ever be as successful as you?”

“Of course,” he replied, though he was shaking his head sadly.

“He doesn’t realize it, but he is
so
lucky to have you as a mentor.”

“He doesn’t think so,” Donald replied.

“But I do.” She stepped in closer to him. “Please don’t give up on him.”

“I won’t.” He shrugged.
But I’m at the end of my rope
.

She nodded. “Would it help if I showed you how grateful
I
am?”

He waved it away, but he looked at my wife hungrily. She was sexy and a good actress, but it took Donald’s egomaniacal arrogance to make it happen. Anyone else would have smelled a trap.

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

She reached up under her arm and pulled down a zipper. She peeled off the top of her gown, exposing a sexy, black lace, strapless bra that barely seemed to contain her ample breasts.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Donald sighed.

“I know,” she replied.

She pulled down her bra. Her boobs spilled out.

“You have gorgeous breasts.”

Joanie smiled at the compliment, though I know in the back of her mind, it rankled her to be objectified like that. Still, I imagine it was all worthwhile if she could gather up an experience that would really, really get under my skin.

“Do you want to touch them?” she offered.

He reached out and began massaging her ample mounds. Her nipples slid between his widely spread finger. She reached out for his crotch. He leaned in and sucked her fat, raspberry nips into his mouth. She rubbed him harder, reaching now for his zipper, pulling it down, snaking her hands into his pants.

“Oh God,” she sighed.

“More than you’re used to?”

“And how.”

She pulled out his prick. Wow. I would never have guessed it. I’d have pegged Donald as tiny. All that bluster. The assholery. Smacked of over-compensation. But no, the guy was fucking hung. Made me hate him even more. Not because he had a big dick, but because it should have made him at least a little more chivalrous.

She stroked him up and down with both hands. He reached down and began pulling up the fabric of her dress until it was bunched at her waist. He pressed his hand down the front of her black, lace panties.

I got my phone out and began filming. They were both squirming and moaning. I could tell he had a finger inside her. His own excitement was obvious.

“Come on, we need to hurry,” he groaned.

Somehow I’d known he’d be a true romantic. She nodded, and he grabbed her by the waist and deposited her on the edge of the pool table. She spread her legs and trailed her red-painted fingertips along her thighs.

He wasn’t interest in a show. He just stepped forward and pulled her panties aside. He coated the head of his cock with a little spit and then pressed against her slit. She moaned as the tip slipped inside, and then shuddered as he rammed it home.

“Fuck, you’re hot,” he said.

She definitely was, in a trampy slut sort of way. With her clothes merely pulled aside, legs spread wide, getting fucked on a pool table, she looked anything but demure. He grabbed a hold of her large breasts and mauled them as he fucked her hard.

I think she was a little taken aback that things had moved so rapidly. But there was no denying that she seemed to enjoy being taken like that. I wondered if she’d give me credit for broadening her sexual horizons when this was all over. Probably not.

Donald didn’t last long. According to the timer on the video, it was precisely one-hundred and four seconds from the moment she’d fished his cock out of his pants until he shivered and came inside my wife.

He withdrew his slimy cock. Her pussy gleamed wet and pink, taking a moment to close up after being thoroughly stretched by him.

“That was amazing,” he said.

“Yeah,” she replied with a little less conviction.

“Look, let’s do this again some time, um, more convenient.” He tucked his cock back into his pants, and straightened his suit jacket. “Give me a few minutes and then come upstairs.”

She nodded. He gave her an awkward kiss and then was gone.

“Jerk,” she spat in his direction. “They’re all jerks.”

Ouch
. I knew she was lumping me in with him in that comment. Of course, she had a point. I’d set this one up.

But it was no time for self-reflection. I had shit to do. Once Joanie left, I crept out of my hiding spot and took the back stairs back up to the main level.

I spotted Donald. He gave me a shit-eating grin from across the room.
I just fucked your wife
. But his grin disappeared as I strode toward him. I could see first surprise and then fear come across his face. Could I know already? He looked around the room. He knew he couldn’t run, so I think he was trying to calculate whether I’d be likely to get violent in front of all these people.

“Kellen,” he said warily.

“Donald, we need to talk.”

He shook his head.

“Now,” I insisted.

“Leave me alone,” he replied.

“You don’t want to have this conversation in public. Trust me on that. Anyway, it’ll be quick, and then you can go back to complaining about the moochers with your country club friends.”

I strode away, knowing he’d follow. I walked into his den and pulled the door shut behind us.

“What do you want?”

“Your signature. On this contract.”

I pulled out the document assigning me the proceeds from the third-party allocations. He smirked when he realized what it was. So this wasn’t about Joanie after all.