Hotwife Dares: 5 previously published stories about hot wives and the cuckolds who love them (BUNDlES of stories about Hotwives and Cuckolds 2) by Dylan Chase

Author:Dylan Chase [Chase, Dylan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: PMI
Published: 2022-11-05T00:00:00+00:00

Professor Cuckold and his partner, Doctor Hotwife

“That modern, now, are ya?” Cam ran his tongue over the front of his top teeth. He was leaning against our mantel but now stepped up behind the couch and to the back of my wife Erin sitting there, facing me. “So if I were to, say . . . “ he started, and he cupped his palm around Erin’s cheek from behind. Her eyes half blinked as her head, by less than a degree, tilted into his hand. But she otherwise remained still, her eyes locked on mine.

We’d been talking about gender relations, historical definitions of marriage, desires and self-censorship, social expectations and conformity — all the usual stuff when Cam came around for an evening.

“Erin decides,” I shrugged, “I don’t decide for her — we’re well into the 21st century, now, Cam,” I said, keeping my eyes on my wife’s until the end ,when I said his name.

“And if . . . “ he went on, gathering and easing her chestnut brown hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck to me. Her eyes shot to their corners but she resumed their stare on mine. “ . . . she lets me . . . ” he said, not finishing his sentence verbally, but rather physically: he edged his hand under the top of her white shirt. Still she stared silently at me, but her lips parted just enough for me to see the glint of her teeth within.

I lowered my eyes from his crooked face to her eyes and I gripped the semi-circle of corded fabric stretched around the front of the arms of my overstuffed chair. “It’s not for me to say, is it,” I pushed my bottom lip up into my top lip and jutted my chin to stretch my neck free of it’s snag on the closed collar of my shirt.

“Not for you to say even when a man . . . “ he grinned up one side of his mouth and pushed his hand further inside the recesses of my wife’s light business-style white shirt. We were all still dressed in our usual work clothes from our various departments around the campus. I didn’t look directly, but I could see plainly enough, peripherally, that his hand had cupped her breast over her bra inside her shirt. He was pushing a little harder against boundaries tonight — tough week in the psych faculty?

Erin folded her arm up and wrapped her grip around the middle of his forearm. Her thumb moved back and forth over his skin. A grin spread like oil on water across her mouth. “He trusts me, you see?” she said to Cam turning her face half up and around to him, but keeping her eyes on mine.

Cam bent over the back of the couch, bent his knees, and rested his elbows across the top. Both his arms rested over her shoulders and his hands hung limp from his wrists. He allowed them to brush over the

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