Accidental Cuckolds: 6 enticing stories about cuckolding, hotwifing, and the enticement of infidelity (Bundles of Short Stories about Hotwives and Cuckolds 3) by JL Sanders

Author:JL Sanders [Sanders, JL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PMI
Published: 2022-05-28T22:00:00+00:00

She Does Him Only For Me

My wife Iris is dressed in a tight black silken teddy with a gold brocade necklace over her entire chest up to her neck. She’s sitting on the floor by our big floor-to-ceiling windows, leaning against our blue velvet couch. She is leaning her head back so her waves of latte-blonde hair fall like a forest rapids over her shoulders. Her fingers are splayed into her neck and her silver-painted nails are lightly drawing down her bared throat as slow as a droplet of sweat. She is doing this for me, I keep telling myself. She is doing this for me.

Woody, a man who has been in and out of her life over the years, is in the kitchen making his afternoon specialty for both of them, mojitos. There has always been some vague and smirking reference between the two of them whenever Woody is over and making mojitos. There was some ill-fated trip they took together to Mexico back in the day, but the details have never been spelled out.

—————

“That’s for my novel, not for you to steal for yours,” she once said with a guilty smirk. She teaches creative writing at the college, but got there by way of a psychology degree. Woody was maybe a boyfriend in college for her, maybe a guy she got to know on one of her lengthy travelling excursions that broke up her college degree, or perhaps he was a man she met at the college; it’s never been made clear. But what was made clear was, if I truly wanted her in my life — and I did, she was singularly responsible for my one big hit novel — Woody came with the package.

“But what is he to you?” I once confronted her about him. She was on her way to his hotel over my objections.

“He’s my best friend,” she turned to face me straight on with her arms hanging so limply at her sides, there wasn’t an ounce of defensiveness in her. There didn’t need to be: his presence in her life was that un-negotiable.

She was in special panties and bra, new, satin, lots of straps, ultra sexy. “Do you have to go see him tonight?”

“I told you a long time ago,” she shrugged her shoulders deeply and turned her hands out toward me, “there’s going to be things you don’t understand.” She padded into her closet and began the process to select what she was going to wear.

“Are you having an affair with him?” I came right out with it, speaking to her bare back.

“Clive,” she sank her head sideways and exhaled with obviousness without turning around. She held a slinky black dress to her body with the back dipping down to her ass. “I agreed to never ask about your private writing projects. I never look, I never pry. That was our deal,” she turned with the dress draped over her shoulder. She clasped my hands in hers and made a slack rope bridge of our arms between us.

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