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The Hotwife

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Warning! NSFW!

 

So I'll make an embarrassing statement here: I've always had issues with finishing during sex.

Solo? Easy. Oral? Difficult, but easy enough. In the heat of passion with one who graces me with the pleasure of a night in their bed? Nothing. In those precious moments when she looked into my eyes, as if begging me to show her and prove just how good it feels? Nothing.

It's not them. It never has been, but try telling them that. Many a relationship suffered due to my little problem, despite the fact that the idea of a partner with such stamina seemed rather enticing in the beginning. The young woman who took my virginity couldn't escape it either.

"What are you a super virgin?" She asked, and she didn't mean it as a compliment.

Then at twenty-one, I met a woman named Heather at a house party where the booze flowed freely. She was a larger girl than I'd normally go for, older too, at thirty years old. The ring on her finger screamed 'off limits' loud and clear. I'm not sure why I sent my signals, those little tests we throw at others to detect interest or rejection without the embarrassment of asking outright.

It may have been the red hair, my weakness. She was a looker too. Her heart shaped face came with these piercing jade eyes that appraised all things they fell upon. The way her eyes saw right through me made me shyer than I normally am.

She persisted, and opened me up to the world of kink, one step at a time. She sat beside me and I carefully picked those precious moments to test the waters. It started with small talk and introductions.

Her pearly white teeth showed bright in an adorable smile when she laughed at my, admittedly bad, jokes. She would ask for a lighter and I'd hand one to her in such a way that she couldn't take it without my finger brushing against her wrist or palm.

She added me on Facebook and I received a message with her just two feet away from me. We talked for almost two hours before admitting mutual attraction, and it was revealed to me what a hotwife was.

Her husband, a roughneck on oil rigs, was out of state most of the time and her nights were always spent with a vacant space next to her in her bed. He liked to watch the videos we made and fully endorsed our encounters, eagerly awaiting more.

She invited me over one night, and of course I went. It didn't matter that she was married or had kids, I wanted her bad and I wanted her all the time.

We sat outside for a good hour, talking about our sexual likes and dislikes. She was a sub, a term I didn't understand at the time, and after expressing an interest in the scene, she offered to show me a thing or two.

We walked to her bedroom which was packed full due to a massive king sized bed on an elaborate frame. She looked me in the eyes and I suddenly remembered my role in this dynamic.

We hadn't known one another for long and lacked the emotional connection that makes the dynamic work. Despite this, we played off of each other remarkably well, each able to act and react to the other.

I took a chance, something I seldom do. When our eyes met it triggered movement. The yearning I felt was beyond restraint and I stepped forward, took her face into my hands, and kissed her. It was rough... raw. It was something I didn't know I had in me.

I resisted the urge to soften my advance. I noticed her back was facing the bed, and I forced her down on her back, reaching for her cleavage and pulling the night gown she wore aside.

Her breasts were large, and very well shaped. I cupped them in my hands, massaging them and lightly pinching her nipples before adding my lips and tongue into the equation.

Was this too fast? I thought, and realized that was my call. In an effort not to panic at the thought, I simply answered my own question in my head.

Yes, I thought, make her wait for it, make her beg for it, or better yet, make her earn it.

In the midst of her lyrical moans, I suddenly raised my head and pulled my hands away. I forced myself to slow down. My hands caressed her body as I kissed and bit her neck. My fingers traced her curvature, unrushed as they made their way back to her breasts. I stopped just shy of them, jumping around to her clavicle and back down the side, ignoring the breasts entirely. I removed the gown and admired the body beneath.

I caught myself Looking at her eyes for some clear indication of approval. Her eyes caught mine and she gave a knowing smile and bit her lip as my hands ventured down her leg and up her inner thigh.

Just before reaching where we both desperately wanted them to go, I'd switch and repeat the process on the other leg. I leaned in and kissed her across her body, finally playing with her breasts once more and then further down. My tongue went to work, making sure to give equal attention to every heightened nerve.

She said one of the sexiest things I have ever heard. It was the way she said it. Its pitch was frantic, the tone filled with the kind of lust I never thought I'd hear.

I did hear it and I don't recall ever being as hard as I was upon doing so. Through the gasps, moans, and buckling knees, I heard a woman beg to feel me for the first time.

"I need you to fuck me..." she said, her voice trembling. "Please."

I looked at her and felt this pride. It was amazing to me how someone not only found me attractive, but NEEDED me in a sense.

I stopped and looked up. Her eyes had this hypnotic quality. When they met mine. I plainly, and calmly said. "No."

"Please," she moaned, placing her hands on the back of my head and clenching what she could of my short hair.

Punishment? I thought to myself. Is this the time for it?

I stopped, looked at her, and reached up, grabbing her hands. I crossed them over her chest and pushed down just enough to hold them in place if she resisted.

Her legs were resting on my shoulder and over the edge of the bed. I stood up, lifting her legs for the perfect angle, and gave her a hard spank. The slap echoed in the room. The gasp she let out quickly turned to a moan. I spread her legs and leaned in, ensuring she could feel how hard I was beneath my jeans. I whispered calmly in her ear, teasing her clit with my fingers.

"No. I don't think you've earned it yet."

It was a shot in the dark for me, some line I had read on a meme while secretly researching how to pull this off, but I assumed it was a meme for a reason.

Her eyes lit up when I said it, as if she was pleasantly surprised at the statement, and made deeply aroused having heard it. She bit her lip, cupped her breasts, and her eyes narrowed, like she had been given a challenge.

She lifted her hips in controlled motions, grinding against the bulge in my jeans as I took off my shirt. She reached up and placed her hands tenderly on my chest.

I grabbed them, and pinned her arms over her head. I prepared another line, the one I was just as excited to use as she was to hear. I took one hand and grabbed her by the hair. I gave it a firm pull and whispered,

"Only good girls get to touch." I was quite pleased with myself. She seemed to enjoy it, indicated by the most devious smile yet. the hardest part of all this discovery was resisting the urge to smile back.

"Are you a good girl?" I asked, testing the question out loud, unsure if it would entice or fall short.

She gave a wicked giggle as I pulled myself away and unbuttoned my jeans.

She sat up and dropped to her knees before me with speed. She grabbed the band of my boxers and pulled them down. Her appraising eyes took in the sight before looking up at me.

The look she gave. It was like she was seeking approval, permission to do what she wanted to do. I said nothing but raised an eyebrow to indicate I expected an answer to my question.

Her voice lowered, and she gave her reply with a seductive tone.

"Yes, sir." She said.

There is something special about someone who wants to please you. It's not just reciprocal, it's a desire, and you can always tell the difference. When she took me into her mouth, her speed and rhythm, mixed with her sheer delight in the act, damn near would have finished me right then. She moved like her life depended on it, bobbing her head back and forth, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on mine.

She finally got a moan out of me as I leaned my head back, taking in the fact this woman desperately wanted me to feel good. I looked back down and saw her lips curl into a slight smile around the shaft when our eyes met.

She winked at me as her lips slid up the shaft slowly, relishing the fact that I was loving every moment of it. I gave what I could only describe as a low growl. I didn't know I growled.

this was a night of discovery for me. So many new sensations that remain in memory, being the object of what seemed so similar to worship. I realized that this was more than a sexual concept. Being given the freedom and power to take the reigns is one thing, but their is also having the trust that comes with it. The responsibility to ensure that whoever gives you that power is well taken care of.

This is the first time I experienced dominance, but it's not the first time we had sex. Twice before, she came and I was unable to finish, and it was clear she took exception to it. I warned her about it, but she was determined.

I pulled her off my cock with her hair and brought her to her feet. That smile just before biting her lip made me want to fuck her that much more.

She took this moment to tell me what she wanted, and I listened intently and without hesitation.

"I want you to come. Don't worry about me. I want you to come and I don't want you to stop till you do." Her tone wasn't desperate or seductive. It was honest, sincere. It gave me pause.

Before this I spent every sexual encounter making it about my partner, resigned to the fact that I just don't finish during sex. I felt confused, wondering how I could achieve what she wanted and what I would do if I did. Neither of us wore condoms. Testing was mandatory to fuck the wife and after that, well birth control would do.

I didn't want to complicate things. Do I pull out?

Here I was about to make a promise I didn't know I could keep. Silly of me, in the end.

I nodded in agreement and walked her back to the bed, letting go of her hair. I practically threw her down on the bed and climbed on top of her, desperate to feel what I have been denying myself just as much as her.

I slid in with ease, the warmth inviting me deeper. I didn't realize how aroused she was. I thrust deep, retreated, and thrusted again, tapping the headboard against the wall.

It gave me an idea. I reached up, braced myself, and fucked as hard as I could, each thrust causing her to flail and grab whatever was in reach. Her hands touched my chest, wrapped around my waist, and then reached behind to scratch my back with a wild passionate cry. The pain sent a shock through me as her long manicured nails dug into place, her body tensing up at my constant motion. I would wear those marks with pride for the next week.

I slowed down, feeling like I was on the road to fulfilling my promise. Through heavy breathing, she looked at me with concern when I slowed down.

"I'm sorry, did they dig in too much?" She asked.

"No, not at all. I just might come." I replied. Looking back, I feel embarrassed about my excitement. She didn't even hesitate as she wrapped her legs around me and thrust her hips up in time with each entry, pulling me into her as if I'd try to escape.

She placed her hands on my chest, and looked at me. It was a serious expression, focused, with her body trembling.

"Come for me." She said, making several quick nods with her head, "Please come for me."

"But, where-" I began, and she stopped me before I could finish, anticipating ny question.

"Don't pull out, no," She said frantically. She then lowered her voice while biting her lip, "Don't pull out." I had never finished inside a woman before this. (Obviously)

By this point I was all in, dedicated. I was going to come. I was going to give her what she wanted and needed. She earned it, after all. It was what she wanted and it was only fair.

It was in this moment, though I wouldn't know till the afterglow, that I officially accepted myself as a dom.

As it turns out, I lied to you before.

I wasn't fucking her as hard as I could. In this moment I became unhinged. Unchained and bound by no obstacles.

I wasn't worried about hurting her, she would like it or tell me different if otherwise.

I wasn't worried about her finishing, she obviously didn't want that tonight.

The only thing in my mind was reaching that sweet oblivion in a new and significantly better way.

Each thrust lifted her lower half up off the bed. The pain from her nails in response were not even a distraction.

I took a firm grip of her red hair and pulled her down into the mattress. I've never heard cries of ecstasy quite like that, and certainly not with me as a cause.

With each thrust I pulled her into the mattress and with each retreat she bounced up off of it. My breathe grew low and heavy as I felt that burn before the release.

The awestruck look of ecstasy painted on her face was the final piece I needed. I looked into her eyes, the distance behind them, and listened as she belted out the tune of bliss.

"I'm gonna cum," I growled.

"Yes-yes-yes-cum."

Fin

The sensation of finishing in a woman is unlike anything else a man can feel in his life. The initial pulse and release into her sends electrical signals that spark off of every nerve ending and travel everywhere they can go, and yet nowhere in particular.

The mind takes a moment of silence for this triumph. The second pulse empties the mind further, while the flare and lustful burn persists, sending every drop as deep within her as you can.

It's like making her yours, in a way.

Every pulse after is a gift, a bonus, like a postscript to the love letters written in the flesh if my back. She was paid the debt of your promise in full.

I came harder than I ever had before that night. In her own words (as best as I can recollect)

"That was fucking hot."

"What?" I turned to face her.

"You tensed and coiled up, then growled like a fucking animal. It's hot as fuck when you cum."

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