Read Online A Well-Laid Trap: The Story Of A Professional Hotwife by Arnica Butler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Arnica Butler
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her asshole, still hard, her hole stretched to a reddened rim to accommodate him. Her gash was swollen and soaked, and she slid her fingers into to the fleshy mess. She stroked her clit, and it didn't take much before she gasped and yelped as she came herself. Her asshole twitched around his cock, and a dribble of cum escaped and dripped onto his balls.
He slapped her ass again, this time more playfully, and Olivia let out a sigh and flopped onto the bed on her stomach. I caught a glimpse of her gaping asshole and her reddened ass cheeks. Her feet kicked up in the air, and though I wanted to stay and see if I would get another glimpse of her battered ass, or even her huge tits, self-preservation kicked in. I needed to get out of sight.
I heard the flick of a lighter. “Dude, no way,” I heard Olivia's voice. “My fucking brother-in-law will kill me.”
I paused on the second-to last step to the bottom.
“He's never home,” the male voice said, uninterested.
I heard a light slap, and a clatter. “Just do it, you fuck,” Olivia muttered.
Her giggle.
I moved away from the stairs and jogged foolishly down the hallway to the master bedroom, where I hid behind the open door and tried to catch my breath. My cock was raging, and my head was spinning.
I exhaled sharply, and when I looked up I could see myself in the mirror of my bathroom.
And I remember looking at my erection, my wild eyes, my crazed posture, and thinking:
What the fuck, Paddy? What the fuck are you doing?
Because in my mind, I was doing my absolute best to recapture the moments before I realized that it was Olivia, not Jordan, fucking that guy in the bedroom upstairs. I was imagining the sight of a big, thick cock stretching out Jordan. Jordan, talking like a dirty whore.
I was submerging the very fact I should have been relieved about, in favor of a lie I should have repelled: my wife, fucking another man like a whore.
I stayed where I was, pressed up against the door, for much longer than I needed to. Olivia and her man came down the stairs not much more than ten minutes later, after the upstairs shower ran for a bit. They exchanged unintelligible teen-talk in marble-mouthed voices, and then they left through the front door.
While I waited, I replayed the sight of Olivia's boyfriend's thick, veined cock moving in and out of her tight ass. Except it wasn't Olivia who was riding him, and it wasn't Olivia's big breasts flapping against her chest, and it wasn't Olivia's voice moaning over and over, “fill my ass full of cum.” In my mind, when the woman I had seen on the bed lifted her head finally, it was Jordan. Jordan mewling as another man filled her ass full of his cum.
My cock was screaming-in-pain hard, and it wasn't going away. There was precum staining my suit pants. I couldn't remember being this worked up in a long, long time.
But I waited ten minutes, almost savoring the excuse to torture myself by fantasizing about Jordan and another man, and then I dashed into the shower. I ripped my clothes off and left them in a heap. I pressed my hand against the shower wall and closed my fingers around my cock. It only took a few seconds to cum, with the sound of Jordan's voice saying “ I want an ass full of cum” in my head, and the images of Olivia-Jordan's sore, distended asshole stretching wider and wider for her boyfriend's cock.
I looked down at the shower floor after I came, stunned as much by how I had acted as by what I was thinking. How much I liked thinking about what I was thinking. A few minutes passed before I noticed the water running over the back of my neck was cold.
I slammed the faucet to off and walked out of the shower, dripping water everywhere.
I found a pair of suit pants similar in color to the one I was wearing. I stuffed the others into a dry-cleaning bag.
Then, feeling still a little bit like a burglar in my own home, I slipped out the garage side door and cagily darted to my car.
I was losing it.
I felt
He slapped her ass again, this time more playfully, and Olivia let out a sigh and flopped onto the bed on her stomach. I caught a glimpse of her gaping asshole and her reddened ass cheeks. Her feet kicked up in the air, and though I wanted to stay and see if I would get another glimpse of her battered ass, or even her huge tits, self-preservation kicked in. I needed to get out of sight.
I heard the flick of a lighter. “Dude, no way,” I heard Olivia's voice. “My fucking brother-in-law will kill me.”
I paused on the second-to last step to the bottom.
“He's never home,” the male voice said, uninterested.
I heard a light slap, and a clatter. “Just do it, you fuck,” Olivia muttered.
Her giggle.
I moved away from the stairs and jogged foolishly down the hallway to the master bedroom, where I hid behind the open door and tried to catch my breath. My cock was raging, and my head was spinning.
I exhaled sharply, and when I looked up I could see myself in the mirror of my bathroom.
And I remember looking at my erection, my wild eyes, my crazed posture, and thinking:
What the fuck, Paddy? What the fuck are you doing?
Because in my mind, I was doing my absolute best to recapture the moments before I realized that it was Olivia, not Jordan, fucking that guy in the bedroom upstairs. I was imagining the sight of a big, thick cock stretching out Jordan. Jordan, talking like a dirty whore.
I was submerging the very fact I should have been relieved about, in favor of a lie I should have repelled: my wife, fucking another man like a whore.
I stayed where I was, pressed up against the door, for much longer than I needed to. Olivia and her man came down the stairs not much more than ten minutes later, after the upstairs shower ran for a bit. They exchanged unintelligible teen-talk in marble-mouthed voices, and then they left through the front door.
While I waited, I replayed the sight of Olivia's boyfriend's thick, veined cock moving in and out of her tight ass. Except it wasn't Olivia who was riding him, and it wasn't Olivia's big breasts flapping against her chest, and it wasn't Olivia's voice moaning over and over, “fill my ass full of cum.” In my mind, when the woman I had seen on the bed lifted her head finally, it was Jordan. Jordan mewling as another man filled her ass full of his cum.
My cock was screaming-in-pain hard, and it wasn't going away. There was precum staining my suit pants. I couldn't remember being this worked up in a long, long time.
But I waited ten minutes, almost savoring the excuse to torture myself by fantasizing about Jordan and another man, and then I dashed into the shower. I ripped my clothes off and left them in a heap. I pressed my hand against the shower wall and closed my fingers around my cock. It only took a few seconds to cum, with the sound of Jordan's voice saying “ I want an ass full of cum” in my head, and the images of Olivia-Jordan's sore, distended asshole stretching wider and wider for her boyfriend's cock.
I looked down at the shower floor after I came, stunned as much by how I had acted as by what I was thinking. How much I liked thinking about what I was thinking. A few minutes passed before I noticed the water running over the back of my neck was cold.
I slammed the faucet to off and walked out of the shower, dripping water everywhere.
I found a pair of suit pants similar in color to the one I was wearing. I stuffed the others into a dry-cleaning bag.
Then, feeling still a little bit like a burglar in my own home, I slipped out the garage side door and cagily darted to my car.
I was losing it.
I felt
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