The First Time Hotwife: 5 voyeur cuckold stories (Bundles of Short Stories about Hotwives and Cuckolds 5) by JL Sanders

Author:JL Sanders [Sanders, JL]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: PMI
Published: 2022-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

He manhandled my wife

“Brett’s coming down. Is that okay?” my wife Sophie said with a shrug from a stool at our kitchen counter, and she put her phone face-down and hid the way she rushed to our bedroom. She was wearing her bathrobe. When she came out, she was wearing a long, loose, silver and black sleeveless t-shirt. I could see through the large armholes her silver and black full-cup bra.

Brett was a 40-year-old guy on the top floor who Sophie called her “workout buddy” at the gym downstairs. “He knows so much about how the body works!” she said. “He’s incredible! I really want you to meet him.”

There was a light rap at our door and I got up, but Sophie raced past me and pushed her hand into my shoulder to keep me on my stool. “I got it!” she said with a squeal in her high-pitched voice, and she scurried on her dragging feet down the long hallway.

I heard her laugh, I heard her voice drop low and murmur, and I heard her shriek as though she’d been pinched. She came down the hallway and into the kitchen pulling directly behind her as though dragging a wagon the guy on the end of her extended arms. She spun around and scowled at him and in a hushed, growling voice, she said, “Stop it!” and I saw her hand slap at him directly behind her, and she tittered.

“So this is Brett,” she said, still bent forward and still struggling with her arms behind her back, and still fighting to stop grinning and laughing. “The guy from the gym I was telling you about?” They’re arms and hands and fingers were already wrestling.

Brett stepped out from behind her and, leaning forward but with his arm around my wife’s waist, he thrusted his hand out at me to shake. It was huge and strong, but at least he didn’t crush my hand like those guys always do.

He put his other hand on his hip and pulled my wife’s hip even tighter against his. My wife’s face dropped half down and she peered at me through the tops of her eyes and through her fallen waves of cappuccino-brown hair. Her fingers twisted and pulled at his fingers where they gripped her waist, and she puffed a tiny shot of air out her nose and the corners of her mouth pulled up into a slight grin.

“Just need to show her a couple of new stretches,” he smirked at me, and he pulled her body in front of his and drew his big hands up her arms, around her shoulders, and into her neck.

He squeezed her there and she emitted a tiny “ouch!” and shot a quick glance over her shoulder at him with her eyes bulging out.

“I’ve been having trouble with my neck,” she said to me, and demonstrated to me by rolling her head around and grimacing. “Here,” she said, touching her fingers lightly to the exposed side of her neck as she tilted her head all the way over the other way.

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