Hotwife Punished

Sometimes the wife is naughty.

She can't help it. It is who, or what she is. She is a sensual being. Her body is made for pleasuring others. She has all the softened curves, valleys, and hills that attract men. Her blonde hair falling around her soft face and her crystal blue eyes that beckon you closer. Her soft skin reminds you of the softest silk, and, once touched only fills you with the desire to feel it again. To feel, caress and tease other, more private, areas...

Her height, at 5'2", is the perfect dimension for seduction. As you take her in your arms, as you dance close to her on a dimly lit nightclub floor, she cranes her head back and opens views of her long and milky toned neck into the low cut blouse, invariably worn when hunting, tempting you with her cleavage. Teasing you as the sheerness of that sinful, satin blouse allows you to see and feel the growing erectness of her nipples as her own excitement from baiting you as I watch.

Her height is perfect. Designed to allow her to throw her head back, exposing the soft flesh of her neck. The flesh that, so soft and silky, begs you to place your lips on her. The flesh begs, but the crystal blue eyes demand. They tell you to nuzzle her neck. To plant soft, teasing kisses on her as your hands are allowed to wander freely over her there in that public setting. Feeling the soft, giving, yet firm, suppleness of her body. Her well rounded and soft ass that sways beneath her dress. That open and waiting thigh gap.

Her eyes tell you it is ok, give you the permission...the consent to feel her up as others twirl around you as I watch.

She slows her dancing, now it is barely more than standing still and swaying as the other advantage of her height is revealed. She is perfectly sized to that her free hand, the one that is not lovingly caressing and stroking your head and neck as you feast on her neck, is at just the right place naturally to stroke your manhood without any telltale movements or adjustments required that may bring unnecessary attention. But, even if an extra set of eyes were to see, it would not dissuade her. If she knew those eyes, more eyes than mine, we're watching she would be driven to perform. The eyes would be fuel to feed the growing tempest of fire within her. A tempest that will not abate until sated by the release of her victim.

If her toy is lucky enough, her hand will free him then and there on the floor. She will not hide the fact that she is massaging him, causing him to grow to his full length among the twirling and dancing folk. She whispers her seductions in his ear and strokes him perfectly, knowing from experience and from his soft moans of pleasure just how far she can take him without spilling his essence on the floor. Sometimes, just because she can, she will do that though. Spraying him out on the floor, or across her dress, maybe hitting unsuspecting people. All as I watch.

If she doesn't release him there, she draws him off the floor. Gripping his swollen, straining shaft as a leash she leads him to a dark corner. She has hunted these grounds before and knows just where she can bring her victim to finish him off. Just the right spot. A spot that is secluded and blocked from the view of other places in the room. Other places, except for the one where I am seated.

She brings him to her lair. A spider drawing in the fly, weaving her silk around him before she feeds. He may think that he has brought her there. He may think in his cockiness, his self assuredness, that it is he that has seduced her; foolish man. All the best seductresses give their victims the belief that it is them that is doing the taking. That is the allure of their art. Taking someone, having them, possessing them totally for that time and having them believe that it is totally them that is in control and not the seductress, the spider.

Once in her lair she allows him under her dress and into her forbidden zones. He learns how soft the flesh of her inner thighs feels as he draws down her top enough to suckle the hardened crowns of her breasts. She holds his head to her bosom as his hand finds, explores and enters her. The moist heat of her feminine portal enveloping his probing fingers as he continues to suckle.

Her skill allows her to position her body in just the right way that his groping is turned to her advantage. His fingers find and work her clitoris. I can see this by the way her head falls back and she opens her thighs more, anticipating the wave. When it comes, her legs close, clenching down on him. Her hand crushes him to her chest as she shudders. The ripples of her orgasm washing over her soft, pink flesh like the warm salty waves of the ocean in Bermuda.

Once the storm has passed, the huntress returns. Her mission focused as she moves to position her prey for the final taking. I watch as she takes him.

She pushes him back in the booth. His free swinging member still exposed. Still erect and turgid. She massages him, a final tease, but she makes him think it is a worshiping of his member by her hand and mouth. That soft, moist sucking mouth. He thinks it is all part of his manliness overpowering her, her awe of him. He is wrong, and I watch.

She is evaluating him. She is deciding if her is the right size, the right shape. Is he thick enough? Is he long enough? Is the head large enough to seal against her walls as he releases inside? Are his balls large? Heavily swollen with enough seed to fill her, to satisfy her? If he is the right one, she will take him. If not, then she will give him pleasure, but not allow him inside. Either way he will leave with a smile on his face and tell his friends of the hotwife he encountered, but he will be none the wiser of her working him for our pleasure.

If he meets her requirements she will mount him. Some times facing toward him so she can whisper in his ear. Telling him that she is married, she is fertile and wants him to fill her with his seed, make him hers, give her a child... She isn't really. She tells him to turn loose his animalistic desire. To make him thrust harder, deeper... To increase her own pleasure, and mine later as she tells me how he 'took her', how he seeded her...

Sometimes she rides him facing away. I can see the lust, the wanton sex written on her face as she grinds into him, rotating and rolling her hips around as his shaft impales her. The top of her blouse is open. He plays with her nipples, coaxing them larger as he swells inside her. Massaging her breasts as the large head of his cock swells against the gripping of her passage.

Either way she is facing, I watch. I watch as his head falls back in ecstasy. I see her rise up as he takes his final thrust and tenses up. The cum flowing, geyser like, from his shaft into her womb. Kept there by the large, mushrooming head of his cock. Just as she planned.

I get up and go to our car...

She joins me after dismissing her plaything. She drops into her seat beside mine. I start the car as she looks at me sheepishly, shyly, coyly and tells me that she has been naughty. It is part of the game. Part of the seduction...

I remove the silken sash we use as her collar, her leash, from the glove box. To do so I must lean over, closer to her. Her skin glistens with moisture, she smells of sex. Her tone is flush with excitement, she has only begun her path of pleasure for the night.

I place the sash around her neck, cinching the slip knot jus tight enough. I tell her to disrobe while we are in the well lighted parking lot. She does. I ask her how naughty she was... VERY, is her reply. I ask her if he came inside her, if she fucked him. She reclines her seat, one hand playing with her nipples.. Pulling, teasing coaxing them to their full attention. Her other hand takes a little of the fluid from the stream flowing out of her. A mixture of her own excitement and his essence. She coats her finger, raising it to her lips. She applies it like a fine silky balm, then dips her finger in her mouth. She asks me if that mattered...does it matter if he came inside her? Does it matter that she has 'forgotten' to take her pills? Would I like to see her belly swell again? Feed on her milk engorged breasts again? It can't happen, but is all part of the fantasy we enjoy.

She is fingering herself now. Rubbing their combined liquids around her shaven womanhood, her sex-slicked skin glistening in the streetlight that pours into the cabin. Massaging herself into a frenzy, she writhes like a sex crazed naked savage in her seat. Some people passing by peer at her. It only adds to her arousal.

I tighten her collar a little more as I start the car. My excitement already raging, I tell her that she has been very bad. Fucking strange men in public. Letting them fill her womb with their sperm. I tell her that daddy will have to discipline her when we get home.

She stops what she is doing. She slinks over to me, rubbing my swollen cock through my pants. She begins to slide the zipper down, asking me softly if there is anything she can do to make it better. My granite hard shaft springs forth. She teases the crown with her tongue, then softly takes just the smallest portion into her silken mouth.

I allow her to taste just the smallest amount of my pre-cum that is starting to ooze forth before I pull the leash/collar back. I tell her she must be punished before pleasure. I wrap the leash around the headrest and her neck, tying it loosely behind the seat. The effect is that she is forced to remain in her seat, not able to reach me. I drive away.

On the way home she may not be able to touch me, but she remains naughty. Telling me about him. His size and how she thinks she can feel her egg being fertilized. I stroke myself on the way home as she plays out the fantasy. Telling me how her belly will swell, how she wants to e to nurse from her breasts. As I stroke myself she is masturbating. She comes several times on the way home.

Once in the parking garage, I leave her tied to the seat. I go to the trunk and retrieve her silk kimono. One that is cut very short. Short enough so that from behind you can see the bottom portion of her pawg-ish ass, her thigh gap and, if she bends forward slightly, her sex. I also take the smaller sashes that we use for her wrist binds.

I open her door, bind her wrists in front and release her from the seat. I leave the leash and collar on. She exits and I drape the kimono over her shoulders. Part of her punishment is to ride the elevator dressed this way.

She makes the journey to our apartment without running into anyone. This time...

Inside, the kimono comes off. I lead her to our room. I attach the leash to the bedpost. She kneels on the floor as I disrobe. I sit in the large, armless chair. I summon her over and she lays across my lap. I rub her ass and thighs as I tell her that I saw her being naughty. I tell her that her behavior violated the rules. I spank her...

The flesh of her bottom jiggles, the skin rippling under the pressure of my hand. I spank her, making contact and then, instead of immediately removing my hand for another blow, I rub the strike in.

As I spank her, the velocity increases slightly. The sound of our skin meeting is sensual. The heat of her ass as I slap her and the growing red mark is visceral. She widens her thighs. Now the post contact rub has turned into me exploring her slit with my fingers. I feel her lips wet and swollen with desire. I can feel her breasts pressed against my cock.

I love the feel of her soft round ass in my hands. She knows I will be taking it as part of her punishment. I will enter her most secret place. The place only I can go.

I rise and she lays her upper body across the chair. She parts her legs in anticipation of her punishment. I move in behind her, rubbing the head of my cock though her slit. I feel the lips hugging the tip of my shaft. The lubricant of her prior seeding coating me...

I spread the juices around the opening to the entrance only I can use. The tight, secret area she reserves for me. The mirror positioned on the other side of the chair allows me a perfect view of her face, of her breasts molded to the chair. I can se the look on her face as I begin my entrance. That look intoxicates me. That look that mixes pleasure and pain. The sounds escaping her lips encourage me to feed more of my length into her. She relaxes to let more in. She loves having me in her. Countless times has she taken me in there and ridden tidal waves of orgasmic pleasure as I thrust into her.

Once I am fully seated inside her, I draw her up. I undo the wrist bindings. I rub the front of her body, tweaking her nipples as I intentionally cause my cock to throb in her bowels. She in return clenches her muscles down on me. I nibble her ear as I ask her if she likes my cock in her ass. She moans her approval, nodding her consent.

I push her down, drawing her arms behind her I bind them again. I remind her that she is being punished for her naughty behavior earlier. I spank her with one hand as I hold her bound wrists behind her with the other like the bridle of a horse. I use that bridle to control her as I fuck her ass and spank her.

The image in the mirror of her face twisted with pleasure and pain fuels me.. The sounds escaping her, sounds of sexual pleasure bordering on pain excite me. Her words push me over the edge. Her asking me to cum. Her asking me, daddy, to cum in her ass. I do. I DO.

As we recover, basking in the glow of our completed adventure, she asks what I want to do tomorrow...