The Tenant: A Very Naughty Hotwife Novel (17 page)

“I can't go on like this,” she said. “It's too much sex, too much debauchery. But I had no idea how to stop myself. Or either of you.” She looked from me to John, and back again. She gave a friendly smile, but there was a glint of something else in her eyes. Something devious.

There was a silence at the table. Anna took a sip of her whiskey. She was buoyant, like she was telling us about a shopping trip.

John exhaled, and leaned back against the booth.

The knot in my stomach was threatening to take over my body. I didn't dare reach for my whiskey because I knew my hands were shaking. I looked at Anna.

Who was this woman?

I looked at my whiskey.

John started to move, and I had to resist the urge to flinch. He exhaled again, like he had taken a long drag on a cigarette and was blowing the smoke on everyone. He extended his arms out, over the back of the booth. “Damn,” he said.

Anna fluttered her eyes in my direction.

They were both looking at me.

“What do you mean,” I began, and I realized I was very close to making a scene, so I put myself in check. I repeated the sentence, in a lower voice. “What do you mean, John's been watching us?”

John was shaking his head. He was shaking his head like he was impressed by the way he had just been taken for a ride. I was relieved that his main sentiment seemed to be awed amusement, but he was also pissing me off a little.

“Look,” Anna said, setting her whiskey down. She had a businesslike voice on. The waitress came back, her eyes bright and ready to take our order, but the three of us glared at her with enough severity that she pretended she was on her way to something else.

“Look,” Anna repeated. “I've decided to come clean to both of you, here, at the same time, so that we have an exit strategy from what has become...” she waved her hand in the air dismissively. “A big mess.”

She looked at me, and then at John. “This whole thing started because Brian and I had a little game we used to play.”

John's mouth was open, but he didn't seem shocked. “You're swingers,” he said plainly. He seemed to already have this piece of information.

I opened my mouth to say something – I didn't know what it was going to be, but I felt some need to correct that statement. Anna shut me down with a pointed side-eye.

“And then...” she turned to me. “John, it turns out, had a little fantasy of his own. Not unlike yours,” she added sharply, before I could open my mouth.

We all looked at each other.

I was angry at Anna. I felt like this was an extreme violation of the trust we had set up. I was extra-pissed that she had brought it up this way, with all of us together.

As though reading my thoughts, Anna spoke up, her eyes on something distant in the restaurant. “Everyone had a fantasy. I had my own desires. Satisfying the two of your fantasies was what was driving me. At first it was just Brian, of course. But then John told me what he wanted, and I figured I could get double the thrill for the same price.” She picked up her glass. “And I did,” she added.

I leaned on the table. I had lost my composure a little. “So John just said to you, I want to-”

“Look man,” John interrupted. “I wasn't about to have sex with your wife. Not until she told me that you two had an arrangement. That's what she told me. She told me you were cool with it.”

Anna looked at me. “I wanted you to get what you wanted,” she said. “But he wasn't going to do it unless I told him that.” She looked at John and arched her eyebrows, as if to say,
right?

“Why didn't you tell
me?”
I seethed.

Anna looked at me with her triumphant expression, the one where she is about to shut down a discussion with some kind of trump card.

“Let me ask you this? Would you have been so turned on by it, if I had?”

My mouth was open for a moment. And then I snapped it shut.

She had me there. It would not have been as exciting if it had all been arranged.

But this still didn't clear up the rest of the story.

Unsure of what I was even feeling, I shrugged and tilted my head to indicate she should continue. “The rest of the story?” I prompted.

“That's it. John wanted to know what I said, and what I did, when I went back to you. He wanted to hear about how you asked me about him, how we fucked after he fucked me. If you think about this, it's not an unreasonable request. We were using him, in a way, and he was just getting something for himself.”

“Besides getting to fuck my wife?” My voice was angry now.

“You wanted me to fuck your wife,” John said, holding up a finger in his defense. “So be careful, there.”

He turned to Anna. “But what's this about John watching the tapes?”

Tapes. He was too young, this guy, to be saying that word.

Anna shrugged. “He liked to watch. You liked to watch.” She smiled. “
I
liked to watch.”

She stretched her arms out on the table. “I know you're both mad, which is why I let it go on. I didn't know how to stop it...I didn't really want to. I was about to go through with it again tonight. I changed my mind at the last minute. I know you both also got a little addicted to what we were doing, and so I know you'll understand when I confess to you: I got a little addicted, too.”

John and I looked at each other. Something in his eyes told me this statement was true.

It was true. I had never thought, in all this time, about how Anna might be as obsessed as I was. I never gave twenty seconds of thought to John; I had only seen him as an instrument of my own desires. I had been selfish, thinking only of myself and my own satisfaction.

“We were all selfish,” Anna said, and I jerked my head to her, because she had done her creepy thing of reading my mind. “But we have to put a stop to it before it gets out of control. This is why I met with you guys here. Someplace neutral, someplace public where nothing could get out of hand.”

John and I were staring at each other now.

He grinned, a kind of beaten and annoyed grin, and took his whiskey in his hand. He looked out into the restaurant while he took a sip of it.

My head was reeling. I had to straighten the facts out a little, before I could even imagine how I felt about them.

Anna seemed ready for this. She turned slightly toward me, and took my hand in hers. “Look, honey, I started this whole thing for you. And no offense John, but I was never dishonest with you about it being all physical. The
only
shady thing I did, and it was pretty shady, was filming you,” and here she cut into the word
filming
with her voice, looking at me with her intense eyes, letting me know what I needed to know, and that I needed to shut up about the hole in the wall, “without you knowing. I did that for myself. John, truth be told, was sort of uncomfortable with it.”

“At first,” he said quickly. Then he smiled at me. “I can see what the appeal is,” he said. “Never understood it before.”

I could feel my face flushing. I didn't know with what exactly. I tried to go back over what I had done with Anna, how I had done it, whether or not it was deeply embarrassing.

Anna placed her hands flat on the table. “Now,” she said. “I think everybody needs some time to think about all of this. I'm going to destroy the camera and all of the..” she looked at John with amusement, “
tapes.
What year are you in? And then I'm going upstairs.” She pointed above her, and I realized for the first time that the restaurant was on the first floor of a hotel.

She leaned in toward both of us. “I, personally, want closure. I still have everything ready for tonight.”

She let that sink in on both of us. 

“So whoever comes up there, we'll have our final...” she waved her hand in the air in a circular motion, unsure of what to call whatever it was between the three of us. She placed her purse in her lap and began digging again. “John, as I understand it, you've given your notice?”

It was a completely random question, and it took me a second to realize what 'notice' she was talking about.

John looked surprised, and then a wry smile came over his face. He nodded and brought his whiskey to his lips by bending his elbow and swinging it to his mouth.

Anna slid two key-cards across the table, one to John, and one to me.

Then she turned to me, and kissed me on the cheek, scooting herself across the leather to get out. I let her out, and she waved her hand over the table. “I expect you guys will sort this out,” she said. And she turned, and disappeared, waving goodbye with her one-handed flutter of fingers.

I stood watching her, and then, not knowing what else to do, I collapsed in the booth.

A little timidly, I looked at John. He was still watching Anna over his shoulder.

“That's some wife you got there,” he said finally, as he turned to me.

I had no idea what to say.

“Man. Let me buy you a drink.”

What else could I do? The truth about John, and I have no idea how to explain it or convey it, is that he wasn't a bad guy. He was somehow putting me at ease. The full implications of what Anna had done - how carefully she had balanced everything so that she had committed multiple betrayals, but no one could legitimately be angry about them, because everyone else had committed a dubiously loyal act themselves – was sinking in.

It was actually very brilliant.

Very deftly handled.

I also couldn't argue with her that the whole thing had gotten out of control, and needed to end.

I was mostly interested in how blind I'd been, how obsessed with myself and my desires, that I hadn't even considered the idea that John might want something, or that Anna could be playing her own game.

John held up two fingers for our waitress, and the whiskey came quickly.

We slammed it.

“Damn,” John said, wiping his mouth. “I forgot to change the brand.”

“It's bad,” I agreed.

An awkward silence.

“You goin' up?” I finally said.

John raised his eyebrow. “Man, that is up to
you
.”

I had so little time to think about it.

But I had known the answer all along. I slid my own key-card across the table, and left John's car by him.

“Give me five minutes,” I said.

In a daze, I walked through the restaurant, and into the lobby of the hotel. To the elevator. And up to the room where my wife was waiting for the final act of this crazy adventure.

16
: THE FINAL ACT

“Is John coming?
”

Anna was standing by the window with her gorgeous backside to me. The curtain was open and overlooked a patch of the skyline, as well as the uglier side of a building next to the hotel. I had no idea how she'd managed to change in such a short time, but she had: her pale skin was encased in the sexiest nightie I had ever seen her wear. It was a form-fitting, short skirt that almost looked like a dress, except that it was made entirely of a delicate black lace. Where her ass pushed the fabric out to form a perfect, round shape, I see the shadow of her ass-crack through the material, and her bare skin glowed through the endless holes in the fabric: she was wearing nothing at all underneath it. It ended just below her full bottom, and her long legs seemed to dangle from it. She was still wearing her heels, very expensive and fashionable black heels that wrapped and criss-crossed around her foot, evoking the idea of bondage just slightly.

I marveled at Anna. At her appearance, as I always had: it was incredible to me that this gorgeous creature was my wife.

But also at her sexual confidence, her cleverness, her mischief. She made me uneasy, but at the end of the day, I still loved Anna. And I think she she still loved me.

“I don't know,” I said. I loosened the tie I had worn.

Anna turned suddenly.

The nightie was even more spectacular from the front. It cut into a deep v-shape, but still would have been moderately conservative if not for the material it was made of. A material that provided teasing glimpses of her nipples, the hair above her snatch, her belly-button...all nearly revealed but not entirely. Her hair was down now, and she tossed it over her shoulder.

“I hope you're not mad at me,” she said. “It's part of the reason I decided to come clean about everything tonight.”

I was so busy looking at her body that I didn't really remember what she was talking about.

“It's still the same game, you know.”

I snapped back to attention. “What?”

She smiled. “Still the same game. If John comes. You tell me what you want, and I'll do it.”

I cocked my head. “So all this time, you got him to do what you wanted by telling him it was so I could watch?”

“But on video,” she said quickly.

I blinked.

She shrugged. “He liked to see you getting off on him fucking me…and...so did I. So it worked out for everyone.”

“Except me.”

Anna sighed.

“There really wasn't any other way to get him to do it. But would you have really wanted me to tell you that? You liked the secrecy of it. I didn't want to ruin it for you.”

I squinted.

“Admit it,” Anna added. She ran her hand along the bed.

She didn't give me time to answer, because I could see in her face that she knew she'd won the argument. As she always did. And she was right, even if I hated to admit it to myself.

“Sit down over there,” Anna said. “It's our last time with John.”

I sat. I was so used to having an erection nearly all the time now that I had practiced the art of being comfortable with one, as I sat or rose from a chair, or walked through a crowded lobby.

Anna made me a drink from the hotel bar and brought it to me. She had another in her own hand. She gave me a smile.

“How are you so sure he'll come?” I said. I knew he would, but how did Anna?

But as if answering my question, there was a light knock at the door, a pause, and a click as the second keycard was inserted. The door opened, and Anna sat on the bed, crossing her long legs.

As John walked into the room, saw the expertise with which Anna had arranged the chair I was sitting in. She had cast the lighting away from me, and onto the center of the room where the bed was. It had the immediate effect of solving what could have been an awkward first few minutes of the interaction. Almost immediately, the bed seemed like it was onstage, and I seemed like the audience. John barely needed to acknowledge me, though he did give me a light nod.

“Do you remember what I wanted you to do?” Anna asked him.

John gave his lips a lick of almost bashful uncertainty. “Yes ma'am,” he said.

“Good,” Anna said. I almost expected her to say some kind of corporate cliche after that (
then we're all on board
).

I hadn't expected the interactions between John and Anna, which I never heard very well through the wall, to be quite like this. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

John gave one final glance to me, as if to say that it was my last chance to back out, but I lifted my whiskey glass to my lips and said nothing. 

John moved toward Anna, and she rose up on her knees on the bed to begin unbuttoning his dress shirt. As soon as this began, it was like I was both out of the room and still in it: the sensation was disorienting.

And intoxicating.

Anna's eyes were on John's body as she slipped his shirt off his shoulders. His hard chest, his big muscles. I watched her fingers trail over them, her cheeks gaining a flush of obvious pleasure. A sensation of mixed feelings burned through me. My cock twitched.

Anna's hands were on his belt now, unfastening it. The leather strap slipped from the metal, and flipped open. I heard the metal rumble of the zipper as she pulled his pants open. Her hand dipped into his trousers, and she smiled as she found what she was seeking.

John pushed his pants down, taking the silky boxers he had been wearing with them.

Now his athletic dark body was fully exposed. His buttocks were hard and round like Anna's, and the two of them looked like an ad for something now, provided the very lewd way that Anna was massaging his cock in her hand was cropped out of the picture.

John's cock was at eye level for me now, and the effect was to make it look even larger. I stared at its girth and length, and at Anna's hands moving up and down it with a familiarity that sent a pang of jealousy through me.

She bit her lip.

John took the lead now, and placed his big, black hand on her neck, his thumb moving up her jawline as he pulled her face toward him. Firmly. Taking some of the control that Anna had just moments earlier. He placed his big lips on hers, and kissed her, but as he pulled away he bit into her lower lip and took it with him for a few inches.

He pushed her around then, so that she turned and end up on all fours. Her short nightie rose up on her ass, and now her snatch, and the tiny patch of hair that covered it, were visible beneath the line of the fabric.

John slid her nightie up, and his eyes opened briefly in surprise as he took in the small dildo in her ass. He placed his thumb on the ribbon, and pushed the protruding tip of the dildo into her, making Anna suck in her breath slowly and tip her head back.

“You've been getting ready for this, then?” John asked her.

Anna just smiled.

“How long?”

“All day,” Anna purred.

“Hmm,” John mumbled, and pushed on the dildo again. He moved the ribbon out of his way, tossing it up to the small of her back. His fingers moved down to her cunt, which was dripping with her juices already. I heard the sticky sounds of her flesh as he dipped a finger in. from where I was, the scent of sex was faintly growing, rising into the air from where the two of them were. I brought my whiskey to my mouth and noticed that I was shaking.

But with excitement.

From where I was, I could see the bright, wet pink of her pussy, already engorged and craving the touch of John's dark fingers. He stared down at her for a moment, and then placed a thick fingertip on her clit and stroked it lightly like a feather. Anna gasped and twisted her hips in desire. She bit her lower lip and looked back at John, but as she did, she flashed me a smile. 

He parted her petals one by one, feeling each layer of her between his fingers like it was the material of suit he was thinking of purchasing. He held her skin between his fingers, feeling how soft and wet it was, smiling.

John's dark finger disappeared into Anna's flesh. He twisted his hand, and Anna moaned.

He was stroking her clit from the inside out, and it was driving her wild.

John smiled. Thinking, surely, of how good it would feel when he slipped his shaft between each of those swollen, soaked lips. Just to get his cock wet, before he rammed her in the ass.

His fingers moved expertly, toying with her clit while she struggled to stay still enough for him to touch her. Her muscles contracted and twisted beneath her skin, and her breath came in ragged, puffs from her mouth. My cock was so hard by now that it felt like it might split.

He reached up and wound the black ribbon attached to the dildo around his hand – it almost didn't make fully around his large paw, and he began to pull on it.

Anna moaned as the dildo she claimed to have left inside of her all this time, since the evening before until now, slowly eased from her asshole, stretching it as the fat middle middle passed through he sphincter. It popped out and John tossed it aside.

Anna's asshole was tinged slightly red, and gaped open for a moment, before it began to twitch closed. It was utterly obscene, but I was riveted by it. I could hardly wait for John to push it open further, stretch it out until it yawned even wider and took even longer to close up.

He slid a wet finger from her pussy into her gaped hole, and I sucked in my breath. I could feel that my cock was dripping precum now, making my underwear cling to me.

His finger glided
into her, because her pussy was so wet there was ample lubrication. I could see her juices glistening on her thighs.

John put another wet finger inside of her, and this time Anna moaned.

And then another. The third finger made her wince, but John did not hesitate, He pressed down on the small of her back and forced her to arch her back again. Anna turned back to the wall in front of her and mewled.

And then he sort of clawed upward with his hand inside of her, and she mewled and howled, her legs starting to tremble, her stomach muscles crunched into a tight ball.

John lifted his thick cock up to her ass. He pressed the tip of himself to her throbbing anus as though his penis was giving her little ring a firm kiss.

“You're going to come with my cock in your ass,” he said.

Anna moaned in response to the command, and moved her hips backward, pushing her ready asshole up against his cock.

When he pushed forward and stretched open the first part of her, an agonized sound came from her chest. She whimpered and clawed at the bedsheets.

“Oh god,” she howled.

John's cock disappeared inch by inch into her ass, dark and thick. As her ass stretched open further, and further, she flung her torso around on the bed but kept herself there for him. She was squeaking and crying, now, submitting fully to John in the most intimate way.

But I could see her mouth and it was not agonized: this was all an act, or at least partially an act, and my wife was actually a dirty little whore who liked cock in the ass. Big, black, cock in her ass.

My mind was racing now to lewder and lewder places, hoping that John would really give it to her. It was, after all, the last time.

He lifted her up so that she was sitting on him, and she groaned and shifted her weight, howling as his cock went deeper and deeper inside of her, forced in by her own weight. She leaned back on him and he pulled her legs to each side so that her pussy was exposed to his fingers.

From where I was sitting, I had a great view of his cock moving in and out of her ass when he body rose and fell. He was really stretching her tight little hole open, and the sight was almost unbelievable even though it was right in front of me. His cock disappeared into her unyielding skin, and above that scene was her tumid flower, dripping its nectar onto John's cock, and his balls.

His fingers came around to where she was exposed, and quickly found the little ball of her clitoris, as though he did this all the time – as though he had fucked my wife thousand times before and not just twice.

Anna was covered in an a feral sheen on sweat; her mouth was contorted and her every breath escaped as a whine.

Then a moan, then a howl, then a scream, as he stroked her with his fingers like an expert.

When she came her entire body shook, and I watched as a creamy cum gushed from her. It slid down to lubricate John's rapidly thrusting cock, and he pressed into her clit as she shrieked and gasped and twitched, well past when she might have needed it. I knew her ass was seizing and clenching around his cock, and I could see how much he enjoyed it.

Then he took both hands and lifted her by her hips, plunging her up and down on his cock.

Anna was used up now and flopped like a rag doll: her ass was so wet with her own cum, and so stretched by John's cock, that she moved over him like a sex toy. He essentially jerked himself off, with her tight, pink ass as a glove.

He shoved her very suddenly onto her chest and her knees again, and she moaned. Then she tossed her hair and looked directly at me.

Her eyes burned into me.