Hotwife Hotel: A Wifewatching Romance Page 3

  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.

  I skimmed through some of the ads, reading all about people's weird kinks that they wouldn't ever tell their spouses but had no trouble spilling out onto the internet for random strangers to read.

  That's when I got the idea. Somehow, all of the stuff that had been percolating in my mind for the last eight years. The porn. The search for pictures of her. That thing she'd said about me watching when we met. It all sort of fused together with the stupid idea men have sometimes, of figuring out when push came to shove, how faithful their wife would really be.

  An idea sprouted from that, just a tiny little innocent thing. What if...what if I put Rebecca in a situation? What if I did a little thing and put a personal ad up. But not for me. For her. It's terrible, I know. What if I put up a personal ad that she was a gal who wanted to have an affair and here she was out in Port Clareton, running a bed and breakfast with her husband. That was the only catch. The husband was always here, but he could never know.

  God if that didn't send a thrill through me. The husband was always here, but he could never know.

  What if I wrote that and put it out there? Would I get a response?

  So that's what I did. I wrote that damn thing and put it out there, put it out on that site on the big ole' internet and every time I would log in, I would revel in the fear and dread of whether my little mail icon would be green or red.

  "Coffee's brewed!"

  "Okay!" I called out, my finger hovering over the computer's power button in case Sam decided to pay me a visit after all. The green font on a black background would surely elicit a question about what the hell I was doing.

  I typed my credentials in and logged on. For the split second before my home screen came into view I held my breath, my heart beating harder in my chest. Would this be it? Would this be the time I'd been hoping for, waiting for? My eyes clung to the top right corner of the screen and when the page loaded, my heart sank. Half in disappointment, half in sheer relief. The little envelope icon was green.

  No new messages.

  I clicked on it, just in case, but the icon hadn't lied.

  "What the hell you doin' in here?!?" Sam bawled, striding into the room.

  I jammed the power button and the screen went black, the only sound in the room that of the fan spinning down.

  "Hey! I thought you told me I wasn't supposed to turn it off like that?" Sam s
aid, pointing at what I'd just done.

  "Right. Sorry buddy, I totally forgot. Let's go get that coffee."

  "Alright," Sam replied, "let's go. So the reason I wanted you to come over was I was thinking..."

  His voice faded into the background as I tried to erase the memory of the green icon from my mind. The same electricity ran back up my body this time as I thought of the possibility that one day I might log in to find it red. What would that mean? Would I click on it and see who it was that had answered the ad?

  "So? Whaddya think?"

  I shook my head and realized I hadn't heard a word he said. It was going to be tough to bluff my way out of this one. Fuck it. Sam didn't need bluffing.

  "I wasn't listening."

  "Oh. So the reason I wanted you to come over was I was thinking..."

  Good ole' Sam.

  Chapter 4

  I saw you watching me.

  Ever since that moment I have had this lurking obsession, this strange fantasy at the memory of that night. I wanted to see her again, but without her seeing me.

  Sometimes I would lie there in the middle of the night coming up with crazy ways to stalk her so that she would know but not really know, like the way it was before we'd met. I would roll the question over and over and over again in my mind. Why the hell had I been so turned on by that? And why the hell had it turned her on so much?

  Inevitably, those thoughts often turned darker, especially deep in the middle of the night. Had she done something like that with other guys she'd been with? I mean, was that the way she said hello to all the guys? Did she really get off on creeps stalking her? If other men were looking at her, did she get off on that?

  We'd talked about our past but hers seemed as uninteresting as mine. A few boyfriends. Nothing kinky. Nothing like that night. Or so she said. I'd even tried to get her to play along, hinting at the first night. But the further apart we got, the less sex we had, and when we did have it, it was perfunctory at best.

  I kept my little obsession though, stowed in the darkest corner of my mind.

  Once we had decided to move, as exciting as it all was, and for all the good it seemed to be doing our marriage, there was a tiny part of me that was slightly disappointed. At least in the city we'd gone out occasionally. I would get to see her talk and laugh with other men. That would always stoke a fire inside me. Now it seemed that there would be no hope. From what I'd seen of Port Clareton when we'd visited that first time, it was a few ramshackle houses, a few properly built ones and a general store. Not much eye candy for my little fantasy.

  Oh well. Maybe I would just put it away and be done with it. But I couldn't. I couldn't put it away. A tiny ember of it always burned inside me and when things were slow in the bedroom, I wouldn't turn to the internet for porn. I would bring out my dark little memory, close my eyes and think of my wife with that mass of muscle standing next to her the day we'd met and I'd wonder what his body would look like between her legs.

  What would it look like to see him thrusting his bulk into her, pushing apart her tiny, soft pussy?

  It got me off faster than anything I could watch. Every single time.

  One day I got to thinking, what if somewhere out there on some server in the vastness of the web, what if there was a picture of my wife there with another man? It certainly seemed like a needle in a haystack sort of proposition but even the possibility of it made me bristle with arousal. If there were such a picture, surely there were other men looking at it, whacking off to it? Getting off at just the sight of my wife.

  That's the one that kind of wedged itself into my mind and wouldn't let me tear it out.

  If other men were looking at her, would she get off on that? Would she do something about it like she had that night with me?

  Chapter 5

  "So?"

  "So?" she echoed, turning from the window she'd been staring out onto the cliffs to face me. Just as Sam had said, the clouds had pushed in from the south, covering the sun and now a dark blue stain was growing on the horizon.

  "Everything okay?"

  "Everything's fine." She smiled. My smile. The one she saved for me to let me know everything was okay. For real.

  "I mean, what does it feel like? Having our first guest? Has he, I don't know, done anything interesting?"

  The shape of her mouth did something weird. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, are there any funny noises coming from upstairs or screaming or, I don't know you know, hotel things!"

  She only rolled her eyes this time. Still smiled a little though. "John," she asked, suddenly serious.

  "Rebecca!" I growled, rolling my r Germanically and pointing a finger in the sky.

  "Okay, stop."

  "Okay."

  Sometimes I could be a little...childish. Things had been unbelievably better between us since we'd found out about the house. It felt like it saved our marriage.

  "Did you fix the door?"

  "What door...oh. Fuck."

  "John, that's the room I put him in. The one at the top of the stairs."

  "Hmmm."

  Of course it probably wasn't a big deal. We could just move him. But we didn't know what the hell we were doing, we'd never owned a bed and breakfast before.

  "Should I go and ask him if he wants to move? He can't close the door! He probably wants some privacy!" She seemed to be getting unusually flustered by this seemingly trivial thing.

  "Okay, it's okay. What is up with you?"

  The deep voice that came from behind us made us both jump. Also I screamed a little.

  "It's not going to be a problem."

  I spun around ready to reach for a kitchen knife, to protect my wife from the vicious attacker that had somehow burgled his way into our ocean-front abode. Then I realized we were entrepreneurs. We had a bed and breakfast. This was our first guest.

  "Mr. Williams," I said, trying to catch my breath and pretend I hadn't just screamed like a girl.

  Thankfully, instead of running for his life, our gracious guest burst into a rolling belly laugh and we both couldn't help but join in. Once it had died down, I invited him into the kitchen.

  "Sorry," I said as he took a seat and looked out over the cove and towards the clouds crawling closer to the shore, "we forgot we had a hotel for a second there."

  "No problem. No problem at all," he said, waving my worry away with a rather large, dark hand. "And like I said, it won't be a problem, the door. I'll perform my sacrifice outside before I go to sleep."

  I caught Rebecca staring at me and we both stood still, not sure how to react.

  "I'm j...I'm just joking. You know that, right?"

  I shook my head. What the hell was wrong with me? Of course he was just joking.

  "You know, we're really new at this whole thing. And we really don't want bad reviews on the internet," I conceded, pulling some mugs down from the cupboard. "Coffee?"

  "I'd love one. And you have nothing to worry about from me. Why just the view is worth five stars!"

  I saw Rebecca smile. He was a lovely man to have as a first guest.

  "What brought a young couple like you all the way out here anyways?"

  She looked at me again. I arched my brows and shrugged a "Go ahead."

  "John's in web design. He can work from wherever. I just do, whatever's around, really. We thought it would be fun to start a little family here. Take the kids fishing when they're older? The air's clean and sometimes the internet doesn't work." She smiled at him and winked at me.

  Once we'd decided to make the move, I'd started looking into things I could do online. I wasn't sure about web development at first but I took to it like a fish to water. Solving problems instead of people. Much more my thing. I mostly back-end and got good enough, fast enough that I had a few freelance clients lined up by the time we'd moved out east.

  "Well," he said, putting that same large hand on his knee and looking back out the window, "these days that certainly sounds like paradise. Good luck to yo
u both."

  I knew she felt the itch as much as I did. I could see her twitching. I could see her cave. She was a sucker for prying.

  "So what brings you here?"

  He looked up at her from where he was sitting and his smile began to fade.

  "Sorry!" Rebecca burst out, "I didn't mean to pry!"

  He shook his head and waved a hand slowly at her. "Don't worry about it. No big deal. I spend most of my time in board rooms. Just needed to get far away from the world now and again, you know?"

  She smiled and I could see her breathing relief. "Wife didn't want to come?" she asked.

  I balked. "Rebecca!" I snapped, half in jest.

  Thankfully, Andre only chuckled. "No, no, it's okay. I'm divorced."

  "Sorry," Rebecca said, sheepishly. She could get a little ahead of herself sometimes.

  "I'm not. Trust me," Andre replied.

  The coffee maker gurgled, the last of the water dripping into the pot saving us from any more awkwardness.

  "Coffee's ready!" I said, a little too enthusiastically.

  Andre nodded and I handed him a cup. The storm was even closer now.

  Chapter 6

  It rolled in just before dinner. It was a lashing, ferocious thing that beat against the side of the house and made it sound like it wanted to tear the roof off and throw us into the sea.

  Andre sat there in the kitchen while we prepared dinner, sipping wine now and staring out over the whitecaps, barely saying anything but seeming to enjoy a certain serenity somewhere in that chaos outside.

  Strangely enough, the storm seemed to fix our internet problem too, because the next time I checked, we were online.

  Remember the personal ad? The one I posted for Rebecca? The one that added a certain air of excitement to my life? A certain air of danger? Well, I went ahead and checked if anyone had written. No one had. I'd always delve a little deeper though.

  I'd browse through more profiles, see who was out there, who might be close by. But there wasn't anyone close by. So I would sit and trawl the summaries of peoples lives, trying to find one that might test Rebecca's resolve and my own mettle in such a situation.