The Tenant: A Very Naughty Hotwife Novel (13 page)

She turned to me and we stared at each other for a few moments.

I was scared, for those few seconds, that I had made a terrible mistake. Her face was unreadable: she could have said anything at that moment. She could have told me John was the man for her, and she only now knew it. She could have started to cry, or thrown something at me, or become distant. Anything was possible, and the seconds ticked by in torturous silence.

“So?” she said, and it was dim in the room so the smile on her mouth was difficult to gauge.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

She took a few steps toward me. Her shoes were in one hand, and she still held them. She swung them a little. “Speechless?”

Her eyes moved down to my cock, and I realized again that I had the fierce erection that I did.

“You saved yourself for me?” she said, her eyes sparkling now.

I felt a sense of relief, somewhere beneath the ache in my cock. She was still happy, still interested. Yes, it was true: she was now flirting with
me.

“Tell me about it,” I croaked.

“You saw it.” She was teasing me now, smiling. She knew what I wanted to hear.

“Tell me how you felt.”

She moved very close to me, and rested both of her arms on my shoulders. Her lips were close to mine, and the memory of her mouth being sucked up by John's big lips, of her pouty mouth kissing the tip of his cock, filled my head. Her body was close to me now,  and I could smell sex all over her. Sweat, her pussy, and the bleachy scent of another man's cum.

“I liked it,” she said. “I liked spreading my legs for him, taking everything he gave me. Knowing you were watching. Knowing how much you wanted to see me get fucked.”

She sliced through each of her last words, punctuation them, slapping them the way John had slapped her ass.
See. Me. Get. Fucked.

We were standing by the couch and I pushed her over the back of it. She squealed with surprise and a little bit of childish glee. For her, this was a fun, amusing game, and she was still capable of being silly.

But I was beyond that. I was serious as hell. My cock was so full it was aching, and I wanted to fuck my cum into her until she knew it wasn't a game, until she couldn't laugh, until she couldn't even breathe.

I jumped over the couch back after her, and she seemed to catch the lust in my eyes, because her smile faded and her eyes locked on mine. She propped herself up on her elbows and let her legs fall open.

I jerked her by the ankles toward me, and used one hand to awkwardly push down my sweatpants.

“I'm so wet,” she said. “I wonder if you'll be able to come.”

I lifted her hips up and sheathed myself in her.

This is my wife pussy, I thought. Full of another man's cum.

She was, indeed, so wet that it might have been hard to come if I hadn't just watched her fuck another man.

She placed her hand on my shoulder and positioned herself so that I could more easily bang into her, and so I did. She moved her hips to help me, and when I looked at her face as I started to come, she was smiling.

Not a challenging smile.

Just a genuine smile.

I yelled at the ceiling, and then lowered my head to stare at her full tits as the rest of my orgasm shuddered out of me, for the next several minutes.

When Anna ros
e
from the couch, she crossed immediately to the closet where I had placed the boots. Then she put them on.

Of course they looked stunning on her. They came up to just below her knee, the color of the leather and the tawny color of her skin almost identical. The boots were only a shade darker. She had no underwear on, only her bra, which we had never removed in all the excitement.

She twisted her hips and admired her boots.

I watched her inner thighs, as my cum and John's dripped down her leg.

She smiled at me.

“Good deal?” she said.

“Good deal,” I murmured.

She walked off to look at herself in the mirror. “Me too.” 

13
: THE ORANGE CHAIR

The powe
r
that Anna's first time with John had given me was going to my head. The power of having gotten her to do something like that, for me. It tasted like a drug, and now I wanted more of it.

I was so hungry for her all the time. We had had sex five times in under two days, since she had come back from John's arms.

I had her on her knees when the idea occurred to me. I was watching my own cock moving slowly in and out of her while she told me how big John's cock had been, how she was still sore from the fucking he had given her.

My thirst for power seized me suddenly, and I grabbed her hair and pulled her up against my chest. I did it with the vicious, hot vigor we were now using in bed, fucking like animals, almost violently.

But Anna responded to this kind of sex: she always had. It had only faded away over the years because it was tiring to maintain, because it started to feel false, because it was just easier to have regular old sex.

But now, now I was infused with an intensity I hadn't felt for such a long time I could hardly remember it. And it was consuming me.

“I want to take this game to the next level,” I whispered fiercely into her ear, and she opened her mouth in a wide smile and simultaneous gasp. She was still rocking her hips up and down, moving over my cock at the pace I had set, but nearing an orgasm. I felt her body shudder around my cock. She liked the idea.

“I want you to go to John again, but this time I want you to do to him exactly what I tell you to do. Really do it this time.”

she leaned her head back against my shoulder and around my cock she quivered in anticipation. I looked at her long, exposed neck. “What's that?” she panted. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

I grasped her with one hand by the hips and the other by the neck, stopping her movement, enjoying her squirming with the need to come.

I was also close to bursting, but I was having too much fun, savoring her need and just being inside of her, to come just yet.

I searched my buckets of filthy, nasty fantasies for one that was not to outrageous. It wasn't easy. All the time I had dedicated to fantasizing about her and John had produced a lot of utterly filthy things.

I couldn't say why I wanted my beautiful wife so utterly humiliated and debased, or why I didn't just want to do it myself. But I did.

“I want you to get him to throatfuck you on that orange chair,” I said, choosing the last thing I had imagined that day that didn't involve breaking the laws of physics.

She squirmed on top of me, trying to move, but I held her so that she couldn't. I moved my fingers up and down her throat. “I want to be able to see his cock inside your throat, moving up and down, all the way inside of you. Where do you think it will go to, Anna, since you've already swallowed it?”

She reached up and touched her neck at the very bottom, where it met her chest plate. I pressed on the soft indentation and smiled. Anna shuddered.

“I want you to do it on the chair so I can see you open your eyes and look at me.”

Now I was the one who started to move, because the image of Anna, looking at me through the hole in the wall, her eyes red and brimming with suffocating tears while John's balls slapped her in the face and his cock filled her throat, had tipped me nearly over the edge.

I moved my hand down to her slit, which was smeared with the silken cum of her previous orgasm. I slipped my finger between her folds and lightly stroked her clit. “Can you do that for me Anna?”

I stopped moving my finger.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You'll do it on the orange chair, and let him fuck his cum right into your face?”

“Yes.”

I rewarded her with another stroke, taking her almost to the edge. I stopped, and let her pant and squirm on top of me. She whined a little, and I could feel all of her muscles straining to just send her that one degree of pleasure more, to another screaming orgasm.

“And you'll do it just for me?”

“Yes.” She was desperate now.

“Say it.”

Her body was almost impossible to hold still now. She was straining against me like an animal.

“I'll get John to fuck my face, just for you.”

I pushed her back down onto the bed, and pounded into her. I could feel her coming just seconds before me. Her pussy was throbbing around my cock when I came, lifting my head and yelling at the ceiling because, not for the first time since we had taken up this game, the orgasm was so intense I almost thought I would pass out.

“How will yo
u
do it?” I said, after we had collapsed and dozed off for a bit, and were now lying in bed tickling each other's arms. Anna had her hands in front of her, held toward the ceiling again.

She pulled them back. “Oh no,” she protested. “I can't do it again, not now. And if I tell you...who knows what will happen.”

Part of me felt like I could get her to do it again, and that it might be fun, but the other part of me also couldn't take any more. Not at this moment.

“No...but what will you say, to...you know...get him to do it?”

She flipped on her side. “Leave that to me,” she said coyly. “And you just enjoy the show.”

I knew that Anna could deliver, and up until now just watching her had been the ultimate titillation. It was everything I wanted, right?

But for some reason, I could feel the same desire that had been, before, to see her fucking John, transforming into a desire to her watch her convince him to fuck her a certain way.

Don't get me wrong. I still wanted to see them together. But I felt something creeping up inside of me, and it was making me just as hard as thinking about her with John sexually, and that was a desire to see her flirting with him, finding a way to ask him to throatfuck her. Just to give me what I wanted.

I looked at the ceiling. My cock was getting hard again, but I could see that Anna was dozing off, and since she was so rarely able to get any sleep, she was likely to chew my face off if I disturbed her. I rolled on my side and tried to sleep.

But I wasn'
t
able to sleep. I couldn't get the thoughts out of my mind. Imagining Anna, and Anna's plans for John. Would she arrange some kind of run-in with him? Would she call him? Would they go somewhere for a drink, and sit close to each other, laughing and touching fingers across the table-top?

And how would Anna convince him to go back home, to where I could see them together? What would she say, between the moment she began to tease him and the moment he brushed across her lips with his stiff, dripping cock, to convince him to let her sit upside-down in that orange chair so he could fuck her?

I threw the covers off, and looked over at Anna. She truly seemed to be sleeping. I was sweating on the sheets.

I went downstairs, to the small second bathroom with a tiny shower in it. The shower drained all over the floor because it was so small that whoever was in it billowed the curtains out, and whoever had installed it had done a piss-poor job of it. It was mostly for showing and listing purposes, to turn the tiny little room into a full bath.

Even the cold water didn't appease me. My mind was on high-power, churning out image after image of Anna and John, and producing nightmarish scenario after scenario: Anna is so captivating he decides he is in love with her, he is so captivating Anna falls in love with him. She decides she doesn't want to humiliate herself for me, so she runs off to a hotel instead. They are too caught up in the moment to make it home. I confront Anna about it and she shrugs
.
It just wasn't possible
, she says.
You knew the risks.
 

His cock is so big I never satisfy her again.

I jerked off in the shower, and then stood with my hands on the wall, trying to calm my mind.

I was behind on work.

I was wasting every moment of the day thinking about my wife fucking another man.

I was obsessed.

And nothing seemed to satisfy the obsession. The more she did, the more obsessed I became.

And where would this lead? She couldn't have an affair with our renter forever, going deeper and deeper into more and more depraved acts, doing whatever I asked until what? This was headed in a terrifying direction.

But I couldn't put the brakes on it.

I couldn't bring myself to do it.

That's how obsessed I was.

Anna poured hersel
f
a cup of coffee and took a bite out of her bagel. I looked at it with disdain, She had slathered it in vegetable cream cheese, which I hated, and since Anna only ever took one bite of a bagel, the leftovers went to me.

She chewed quickly, looking out the window as if there were something fascinating there.

Out of nowhere, and almost as if her mind were on something else, like car insurance, she said:

“I think the orange chair will probably happen tonight. Maybe this afternoon. So be ready.”

I left my coffee cup in front of my nose. A cool, tingling sensation dripped down my body, almost like a liquid poured over me.

I slurped my coffee loudly. I wasn't sure at all why I did that. It was almost theatrical.

I'm so cool with that, Anna, I'm just taking a sip of my coffee. Listen to me SIP MY COFFEE.

“I'll text you,” she added.

Then she picked up her purse, kissed me on the cheek, and left through the side door.

I was still sitting there with coffee mug in front of my face.

Strange.

It was strange that she left by the side door.

I whirled around. She was alone, walking across the lawn.

No John.

What was she up to?

Maybe she isn't up to anything. Maybe Anna's life doesn't revolve around John's cock quite the same way yours does, Brian.

You fucking perv.

I watched her, and then, like she was in some fucking movie, she jerked wildly, and seemed to twist her ankle on something in the lawn.

And her bag spilled onto the ground.

And then John was in the yard. Coming out of his apartment.

Kneeling next to her. Helping her scoop up papers. Smiling. His mouth close to her ear. The two of them whispering together.

What was he saying now?
I had a great time last time.

I want to see you again.

Anna was looking around, furtively. Toward the house. For John, it was as if she didn't want me to see her. She looked down, and shuffled her papers with the vigor of a person who wants to look like she's doing one thing, while in fact doing another.

Moving her mouth, saying something to John.

What was it?
Call me. Meet me at Joe's bar. Come home at six, Brian will be out. I can't stop thinking about your cock.

She wanted me to see it, though. Anna had never fallen down once in the whole time I had known her. She had the agility of a cat. This was all a show, and she could have staged it anywhere.

But she staged it here.

I can't stop thinking about your cock.

Or worse:

I can't stop thinking about you.

They parted with a very theatrical act of ignoring each other. Just neighbors here, folks, nothing to see.

But I knew better. I knew there was something to what Anna had done, some way of luring John back to her, while making him think he was the one luring her.

A dark thought slithered around in the back of my mind. Or do I just remember it that way, now that I know the truth? The dark thought was that everything was in reverse. That I was the one being duped, led to believe that I had things under control.

Maybe I never had this thought. Memory is fickle, and when we remember we all of have a tendency to make ourselves more suspicious, more clever, more aware of what was really happening before we found out that it was happening.

I know that.

I still think I had a thought like that flicker through me. I ignored it, though.

I was too caught up in my own needs, my need to see Anna, my need to make Anna do what I wanted her to do, my desire to see John fuck her like a rag doll.

I spent all of the day thinking about Anna. Thinking about Anna and whether or not she could get John to fuck her just like I wanted. Thinking about how I would watch Anna put on her well-earned shoes and take a twirl in them.

The text arrive
d
three days later.

Anna: Have things set up should be there by 9pm. Told John you aren't home.

I stared at my phone.

A sea of conflicting feeling rose up inside of me.

The primary feeling was excitement. Excitement flooding my veins, a mixture of adrenaline and lust, giving me the shakes, raging inside of me like I was a teenager again. The excitement of flesh, of sweat, of skin and lips and the scent of sex. The kind of new, fresh excitement I hadn't felt for a long time, since back when Anna and I started dating.