I’m still processing. A couple of weeks back I attended a class reunion: ten years since we left school for college, work or whatever. I packed a small case and, as I was leaving, my husband kissed me and said “Have a great time. I want you to have fun tonight.” I hugged him and said, “I’ll try” before getting into my car and setting off in time to arrive for the lunch that had been arranged.
My year group was pretty big so they had booked an entire hotel for the event. Over lunch I had the chance to chat with some old friends and avoid some ex-boyfriends. I laughed a lot. I hugged a lot. I shared lots of stories and made lots of promises to stay in touch knowing that I probably wouldn’t keep. By mid-afternoon people were drifting away so I headed for my room, lay down and slept off lunch for a few hours. Soon it was time to get ready for the evening’s event.
I walked into the hotel’s events room looking, I thought, at least moderately stunning in my best make-up and what I call my ‘party dress’: red and low-cut with a mid-thigh hem. For a while I mingled, glass in hand until, after an hour and a half I found myself at the bar ordering a red wine. My third. Now I should tell you I’m usually careful about this. Red wine has a tendency to make me - you know. Horny. Maybe my husband’s suggestion of fun had loosened my inhibitions a bit. After a minute I was joined by a guy I vaguely remembered from my geography and history classes and we got talking. I became aware of him glancing at my cleavage and that I was enjoying the attention.
Wine drunk we made for the dance floor. His arms were around me, drawing me close and his musky scent filling my nostrils. As we moved together I felt his hand move to my arse and I began to caress his back and sides. Here and there around us couples were pairing off and leaving the room and, after a few minutes we were one of them. I’d like to say there was a part of me that was hesitant or wracked with guilt over what was about to happen, but in that moment I wasn’t a married woman but a giddy schoolgirl filled with erotic excitement.
My room was closer than his. My hand trembling a little I flashed my card at the lock and we were inside, him kicking the door closed behind him. He pulled me into a kiss and I parted my lips for his tongue as it stabbed and rolled over mine. As our hands caressed each other’s bodies they pulled at clothes and sought out skin. My dress, unzipped, fell to the floor and his hands cupped and caressed my breasts. My hands, shaking, unfastened his pants and pushed them over his arse and off.
Naked we tumbled onto my bed, his thigh pressing and grinding against my crotch, his mouth on my breasts, panning between my now bullet-hard nipples. My fingers circled his rigidly solid cock, as a growing sense of urgent need built within my increasingly wet and wanting pussy. Lying back I spread my legs and he nestled his hips between them. I could feel his cock gliding between my pussy lips, lubricating itself with my juices. I slipped my hand between us and guided him to my entrance gasping “Here…. Here”.
I moaned a deep husky moan as his cock glided inside me giving a nice sense of stretch without discomfort. Then, with long sultry strokes he started to fuck me. I stroked his arse, urging him into me, my hands gliding up his back to clutch his shoulders. After a while he picked up the pace and my hips rose and fell to meet his thrusts. Waves of joy flowed from my pussy out into my body and began gradually to merge. Sensations swelled inside me as his cock filled me over and over. I began to clutch at his shoulders, his sides, the sheets, anything as I began to writhe frantically beneath him. Faster and faster he fucked me and ever more intense the sensations inside me became until, my body shaking and all the lights coming on in my brain, orgasm roared through me and I held him to me tightly. After a few moments of pure undiluted joy, I heard him grunting in my ear and felt his cock swelling and throbbing inside me as with a few long, deep strokes he sent waves of his warm cum deep into my pussy.
We held each other, shaking, for a moment. Then he rolled off and we went to sleep. In the morning little was said. We had little in common other than a few shared classes and a simple, uncomplicated but highly satisfying fuck. In the car I began to worry. Should I tell my husband? What would he say? Arriving home he asked me if I’d had fun. “Yes,” I said. “But there’s something I should tell you…” He put his finger to my lips and asked “Did you enjoy yourself. I nodded dumbly and he said, “That’s all I need to know.”
And so I’m processing. Does this make me a ‘hotwife’? More importantly, how did I get so lucky as to marry such a loving and wonderful man?
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