The Village Wife: A Hotwife Fantasy by Jason Lenov

Author:Jason Lenov [Lenov, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Thirteenth Line Publications
Published: 2016-04-03T19:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The sound of high-heeled shoes clacking along the tile floor in the hallway woke me up. It took a second to remember who I was, where I was. As soon as I did, I looked at the alarm beside our bed.

Seven-thirty.

We were back at home.

What day was it? Saturday. Where the hell was my wife?

The clatter of heels got softer. I realized it was her. She was headed for the door. I jumped up, out of the bed. I didn't care that I was naked.

"Hey!"

She spun around, her face defiant. She crossed her arms.

"Hey yourself." There wasn't too much kindness to the words.

"What are you doing? What are you doing out here? Dressed like that?"

She had on her Sunday best. A floral print that dipped just below the knee. High black heels and a Sunday hat. Red lipstick and white gloves. My cock swelled just looking at her.

"I'm going to church Reg."

I sort of took a step back in my mind when she said it. It wasn't a voice I'd heard before. Full of...conviction. Like she'd had a dream about how to stand up for herself and now wanted to try it out, to see if it worked.

My own dreams came floating from the dark shadows of a sleep-adled mind, followed by memories. Memories of last night. More blood moved to my cock.

"Well, what the hell are you doing going to church on a Saturday? Isn't it Saturday?" My head had started to spin. Partly from all the blood moving to my cock and partly from what I was starting to remember about the night before. We'd barely talked on the car ride home. We hadn't said a word about it in bed.

"It is."

"Well, what are you doing going to church on a Saturday then?"

Something made me look down. My cock stiffened even more. Above the black leather strap of the high heel she was wearing, the anklet glistened in the light.

"I thought someone ought to."

"Someone ought to what?" I growled, moving towards her. I was barely in control of myself. I wanted, no, I needed to have her again, right then and there.

"Someone ought to go and ask for forgiveness. Maybe say a penance."

I'd reached her by the last word. She smelled like flower perfume. I wondered if she'd put some on her cunt. I wanted to sink between her thighs and taste her again.

"Forgiveness for what?" I growled, pressing into her neck with a kiss. She didn't push me away. She didn't tilt her head to one side, either.

"For what happened last night." Her answer was simple, matter-of-fact, even. Like it was just what one did after letting another man fuck you. You went to church to ask for forgiveness. Even if it was a Saturday.

I didn't know what the hell to think. I straightened up, suddenly very aware of how dishevelled and primal I looked in contrast to her. It made me even harder. I wanted to take her like that, me naked and her in her Sunday best.

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