Clothing Optional: An Interracial Hotwife Erotica Novel by Arnica Butler

Author:Arnica Butler [Butler, Arnica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thirteenth Line Publications
Published: 2018-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

My hand is on my forehead.

“So what the…?” I say.

She smiles. “You’ve been telling me forever how this was your fantasy,” she says.

There is a long pause before she starts talking again. When she does, she has this conspiratorial whisper to her voice.

“I met this girl at spin class, and we started talking. She’s been married like the same amount of time as we have, and we… you know. Got into girl talk.”

I don’t, I want to tell her. I don’t actually know what that is.

“So she somehow actually brings this up, that her husband is into hotwifing. And that she gave it a try because he kept asking her to do it, and now they’re just… like, into it. So of course I ended up finally confiding to her that you… you know. You have this fantasy. And she’s like: you should just do it.”

“So you did?” I say incredulously. “Just like that?”

Jackie shakes her head and smiles, now with a hint of embarrassment. “Of course not! I was like: that is crazy, I could never, you know? So she’s actually the one who recommended this place because it’s kind of like a… I don’t know. Starter kit or something.”

I don’t say anything, so Jackie keeps talking.

“I thought if it looked like, I don’t know, an accident, then it would happen more organically or something. Or I could back out, if it turned out you didn’t really want to. But Kelly – that’s the girl – she convinced me that you wouldn’t be unhappy about it. If I actually did it.”

She turns to me. “You’re not, right?”

I sit up on my elbows, ignoring the question. “So this is all… you planned this whole thing?”

She rolls onto her stomach, squirming and stretching delightfully. She pushes a pillow out of her way and leans on her arms. “I mean, not everything. Like, I didn’t know who we would meet or what would happen exactly. But you mean, like, did I know this was a swingers' resort?”

I raise my eyebrows.

“Yes,” she says. She adds, after a pause: “I was going to just do it in a massage with Luis, but then this whole thing at the pool happened and I just decided to… go for it.”

I fall on my back with a sharp exhale. “I can’t believe it,” I say. And this is true. My wife is incredibly, incredibly… unbelievable right now.

She has her thumbnail between her teeth now. “But you liked it, right?”

There is a trace of nervousness in her voice. Not much, but enough to make me feel relieved: she isn’t entirely different.

“I think… I sort of… what just happened sort of speaks for itself,” I say. I turn to look at her. “I still can’t believe you planned this whole thing.”

She leans close to me and kisses me. “And it’s not over yet. I just got tired of all the… pretending. That, and... I’m also really worried you’re going to fall into the pool.”

She smiles. “Merry Christmas.”

I blink.

And then I find myself asking the dumbest question ever.

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