Husband's Hotwife Obsession Ch. 01

She was beautiful; her smokey eye makeup look was alluring, her red lips enticing, and her long hair tied behind her head in a ponytail suited her. The deep cleavage of her blue dress revealed a considerable amount of creamy white breasts for anyone's curious eyes. I glanced towards her, wondering who was the lucky guy she had been waiting for, and knew something was amiss when I noticed a teardrop running down her cheek and the ring on her finger.

Approaching, I learnt she gave in to her husband's year-long nagging, agreeing to pick up a man in a bar and maybe even fuck him. Sitting there, she regretted ever agreeing to such a thing as the realisation hit her; this was it. She was dressed to attract men, sitting at the counter alone, waiting for someone to hit on her while her husband observed her from the crowd.

It wasn't about her, more like it was all about him and his fantasy of his wife being a hotwife, being fucked whilst he waited for her return to tell him all the sordid details of her indiscretions while he wanked himself. The idea of his wife of 25 years being fucked by another man took over his rational mind and kept him in constant sexual arousal.

He wanted her to dress sexily and provocatively, purchasing clothes she would have never bought herself under the disguise of showering her with gifts. During sex, all he talked about was her being fucked by other men. Admittedly, it did turn her on, and she went along with the fantasies, but they were only fantasies in her mind, unlike in his. He wanted it to happen, to experience the feeling of being a cuckold. If only she would agree and be his hotwife.

Eventually, she agreed to his nagging and decided to go along with it, which brought her to Jack's, a notorious pick-up joint, with a glass of wine in front of her and a teardrop rolling down her face.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, moving over to the chair next to hers.

"Yes, I am fine," she said, staring at her glass.

"Okay. I don't want to pry, but if you want to talk, you will find me sitting on one of those chairs," I said, sliding off the seat to walk away.

"Wait," she called out. "Don't go. I could do with some company."

I sat back on the chair, looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue, but she just stared at her glass. Minutes passed in silence, and I did not want to interrupt her thoughts when she nervously glanced over my shoulder like she was searching for someone in the room.

"Thank you," she said finally, then took a sip of wine. "My husband is sitting at a table watching me, waiting for someone to hit on me."

"Really? And I guess by the teardrop running down on your face, you are not keen on that."

"No, I am not. I love my husband, but his nagging about me fucking a stranger pushed our marriage to the edge. Sure, it is a nice fantasy in the bedroom, but...," her voice trailed off.

"I know what you mean. My wife, now ex-wife, and I had those fantasies but never considered taking them outside the bedroom. At least, I do not think she has ever wanted to do it either."

"That is how I feel about it, but not my husband. He got to the point he is obsessed about it."

"And it got to the point your marriage is in jeopardy if you don't go ahead with it."

"That sums it up," she said as another teardrop rolled down her face. "I don't want to do this, but I don't want to end our marriage either. My husband is a good man, caring, loving, but lately, his obsession has been driving us apart."

"I don't pretend to understand what both of you must go through right now, and I don't know if there is a simple solution. Have you tried counselling?"

"No, he says there is nothing wrong with him, and millions of couples live the cuckold lifestyle," she said, sipping her wine. "I just don't want to be one of them."

"You don't have to. I am sure there is a solution you both can live with. It just hasn't presented itself yet."

"I am so sorry for putting my troubles on you. Let's forget about my problems," she said, smiling vaguely. "I don't even know your name. I am Julie."

"I am Jim," I replied and shook her hand, noticing how small and delicate it was, her nails painted red, matching her lipstick.

"I offered to listen to you, remember? I am happy to listen."

"Thank you," she said and leant over to give a peck on my cheek.

"He is waiting for someone to hit on me, and I guess he thinks it's you," she said, staring at her wine glass.

"Well, you are a gorgeous woman. I noticed you when I walked in, but I am not one to play his games to make you do things you don't want to."

"I know. I had the feeling you would not do that. But, would you keep me company? I don't want anyone to try to hit on me."

"Well, if I have a choice drinking alone or with a beautiful woman. I guess I choose the second option."

"You men!" She said and softly punched my arm. "Thank you."

We chatted for quite some time about our lives, she even laughed at my silly jokes at times, and we had three glasses of wine each, but, every now and then, with dark clouds over her eyes, she looked towards her husband past my shoulder.

"Listen, I have an idea. Your husband will never have to know the truth, and you will never have to do what he wants you to do," I said to her, placing my hand on hers and gently squeezing it.

She listened to me, but my suggestion did not convince her. That was fine since I did not expect her to accept what I had said to her right away.

"Think about it," I said. "Let me give you my phone number, and if you want to go ahead, we could arrange things."

"I don't know, Jim. That would make me a liar. I have never lied to him."

"What are the alternatives? Think about it, and if you want to go ahead with what I have suggested, text me."

She reached for her clutch, and after unlocking her phone, she handed it to me. I typed in my name and phone number. She slipped off the chair and kissed my cheek, taking her phone from my hand.

"Thank you. And I will think about what you said," she said, then walked to the front door where her husband met her.

I watched her in her stiletto pumps, walking away; her long shapely legs seemed a mile long in her short dress, and she wore seamed nylons. I just loved a woman's legs in seamed nylons, and I had to give it to her husband; she did look a hot wife, but a hotwife she was not.

A few weeks went by without hearing from Julie when, on a Friday evening, I received a message from her.

"Hello, Jim. Do you remember me, Julie, from Jack's? Does your offer still stand? If so, I want to go ahead with it. Can we meet?"

"Yes, I do remember you, Julie. Yes, my offer still stands, and yes, we can meet. Let me know when and where, Jim," I replied.

"Can we meet tomorrow at Jack's, 9 o'clock?"

"Sure, I can make it, Julie. Will see you there."

I arrived a few minutes early and ordered two glasses of wine, recalling what she had been drinking the last time we were there. I sat at the bar, anticipating her and her husband's arrival, but when the front door opened, I only saw her coming through and no husband. She saw me instantly and walked to me, softly kissing my cheek.

She was stunning in her body-hugging short black dress, showing off her fabulous curves, breasts and long legs. She was wearing smoke-coloured nylons and black strappy stiletto sandals. Her face was made up in the smokey eye look style with ruby red lips while her hair was in a bun. Seeing her, I felt a rush of excitement in my groin, but I pushed it aside; after all, I was not there to flirt or seduce her but to help her with her problem.

"Hello Julie, how are things right now?"

Hello Jim, as you see, I need your help, so not so good."

"That's a shame. I thought things might have settled down somewhat after our meeting."

"Is this for me?" she asked, picking up the glass.

"Yes, I ordered for you too. So what's happened?"

"He was worse than ever, wanted to know everything, how I felt, if I thought about making out with you, even fuck you. I haven't had a day without him asking how I felt being a hotwife. I told him I wasn't a hotwife and had not done anything, but that was ignored. He even went so far as saying he did not want to spoil my lover's pussy and stopped fucking me.

I had enough, and that was when I texted you for your help. You should have seen the look on my husband's face when I told him I was going to meet you. And when it was time for me to get dressed for the night, he was ecstatic, positively giddy with excitement. He helped me to dress, telling me to enjoy myself, there were no limits, everything was allowed, and I had a free pass. He ordered me a taxi and sent me on my way."

"Well, I have to say you are stunning, Julie, but that is beside the point."

"Thank you, Jim."

We had a fabulous night, and being Saturday, the dance floor was open, so we made the most of it too. By the time we left the bar, it was well after midnight. We'd even walked on the riverbank before I took her home. In front of her house, I asked her to let her hair down, and I messed it up somewhat, saying that looks better. She giggled and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thank you, Jim. I had a fabulous time tonight."

"Same here, Julie. Just call if you need my help."

"I will, Jim," she said, stepping out of the car.

I watched her walk to the front door, thinking how beautiful she was. I could easily fall for her if I was not careful.

I had not heard from her for a couple of weeks when she texted me again, and it became our routine. She told her husband I was a businessman out of town visiting once or twice a month. The part I was a businessman was correct, while the out-of-town part wasn't since I lived and worked in the same city as them, but that gave her an excuse why she would not have a date with me more often.

Ultimately, we settled on meeting twice a month, going to clubs, restaurants, the movies and theatres, or just walked by the river for hours. On one of those occasions, we sat on a park bench, watching the ducks on the water in the moonlight.

"Julie, I have to tell you something that has been on my mind for weeks."

"Yes, what is it, Jim?"

"I hope it will not cause problems for us but... Julie, I have fallen in love with you," I whispered, looking at her for her reaction.

"Oh, Jim," she said, looking into my eyes and taking my hands into hers as her eyes swelled with tears. "It's okay. I have something to tell you too."

"What is it?"

"I have fallen for you too. What are we going to do?" Julie said, and I saw a teardrop rolling down her cheek.

I pulled her into a tight embrace as her tears began to roll down her cheeks. Neither of us said anything for quite a while as we held each other, trying to process what we'd said and its ramifications for our futures. For the very first time since we'd met, we kissed. It wasn't a passionate kiss, tongues exploring, but instead, a tender lingering kiss full of love we felt for one another. I kissed all her tears away till there was no more, only a smile on her face. I broke the silence while looking into her sad but loving eyes.

"I'll take you home, Julie," I said.

"Yes, it is late."

I took her hand, and we walked back to my car, lost in our thoughts. I opened the door for her, and she slid into the passenger seat. Sitting behind the steering wheel, I stared out the windscreen wanting to tell her what was on my mind, but I wasn't sure how. I could feel her eyes on me, watching while I composed myself, my heart thumping in my chest.

"Julie," I said quietly, "if you ever decide to divorce your husband, would you marry me?"

I looked at her and saw tears swelling in her eyes again. I reached for her hand, brought it to my lips and softly kissed the back of it.

"Take me home, Jim," all she said, and I wondered if I had made a mistake if I destroyed the wonderful friendship we'd built.

I drove her home, neither of us saying anything during the drive. Finally, when we stopped in front of her house, she looked at me with sad but loving eyes, melting my heart.

"Stop the engine, please," she whispered, so I did, "and walk me to the front door."

"Okay," I said, getting out of the car.

This was different, and I wondered what was on her mind since I had never walked her to her front door. I always dropped her off in front of the house on the street and watched her walk to the door, eventually disappearing behind it. I opened the car door for her, offering my hand to help her out. When I closed it, she hooked her arm around mine, rested her head on my shoulder, and I walked her to the house.

"Kiss me, Jim," she said, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I softly kissed her warm lips and could feel them part, her tongue touching my lips. I instinctively opened my mouth, and our tongues met for the first time. First, just getting acquainted, then passionately making love. I held her tight, was melting in her arms, and she was in mine. I did not want it ever to end, feeling overwhelmed by my emotions. I had no idea how long we had been kissing when she broke the kiss and looked into my eyes, her arms wrapped around my neck.

"Jim," she began, "I will marry you. I will marry you on the day of my divorce."

She kissed me softly and slipped behind the door, out of sight. Lost in my thoughts, I walked back to my car and sat behind the steering wheel for some time before finally driving home. The following morning when I woke, I saw a message from Julie and nervously opened it.

"I will need some time to sort my life out, will contact you. I love you, Jim."

"Sure, take as much time as you need. I love you too, Julie," I replied, not expecting what was to come.

When we were supposed to meet next time, she did not contact me as we had been doing, nor replied to my message. Weeks, months passed, and I did not see her. My emotions were on a roller coaster, I could have just driven to her place and demanded answers, but that was not me. If she sorted things out with her husband, I did not want to mess it up for her. I had known from the day we met I was not supposed to fall in love with her, but I did. I just had to wait for that text she had promised.

Then one Thursday afternoon, I received a message from Julie. My heartbeat spiked as I read her words, "I am sorry for disappearing so long, Jim. If you still love me, meet me at Jack's on Saturday night, 9 o'clock. Don't reply if you come, I'll explain everything. Julie."

I was already at the bar by 8:30, not wanting to be late, not this time. Whatever she wanted to tell me, I wanted to hear. She walked through the door right on 9 o'clock. She was stunning, more beautiful than I remembered. She walked to me, our lips met briefly, and she slipped on the chair, picking the glass of wine up.

"Is this for me?" she asked.

"Yes. How are you, Julie?" I asked, searching her face, my heart racing.

"I am so sorry I have ignored you for so long," she began to say with uncertainty in her eyes, "but I wanted to sort my life out without you being involved this time."

"Have you?" I asked nervously, as she had not given away anything yet.

"Yes, I have," she said, "that night, when you proposed to me, I entered the house and found him in the living room naked, with his cock in a cage, the key on the coffee table. He told me to sit down and tell him all the details we had supposedly done that night. I told him that everything I had said in the past was a lie, never cheated on him, never fucked another man. It was all just for his benefit, and I never wanted to be a hotwife, never had been one. He laughed at first, but when he saw how serious I was, the expression on his face changed.

He was sitting there stunned, not believing what he had heard. I told him I had enough of his crap and was filing for divorce. He laughed nervously again until I went to the bedroom, packed a suitcase and walked out the door. I stayed in a motel that night, and after that, I stayed with my parents. They were shocked to see me and hear what happened but were very understanding and supportive.

On Monday, I went to a lawyer and began divorce proceedings. He refused to accept it initially, and for a week, he was calling, texting, asking, begging, and even threatening me. The following Monday, he signed the no-fault papers, and we did not have to go to court only to get the judge to sign off on our divorce. On Thursday, when I texted you, I got the call from my lawyer, saying I was a free woman and could collect the papers any time I wished," she said, placing an envelope on the counter. "You can read it."

I picked up the envelope, pulled out the document and read it. When I finished reading, I looked at Julie, got off my chair and knelt before her.

"Will you marry me, Julie?"

"Yes, I will, Jim," she said, beaming to the cheering of nearby patrons.

I got off my knee, and we kissed passionately, finished our wines and walked out of the bar arm-in-arm.

"Take me home Jim, and make love to me, please," she said, smiling.

"I haven't made love to a woman for over two years," I whispered, feeling a bit nervous.

"Nobody made love to me for years," she said. "My stupid ex had only fucked me while fantasising about me being his hotwife until the night we met."

My heart fluttered with happiness as we drove to my apartment while Julie was glowing as I had never seen her. She was texting someone when I pulled into the underground car park. She looked at me, beaming.

"I told my parents I will not be going home tonight, not to worry."

"I would love you to move in with me, Julie," I said.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, smirking. "We are not married yet."

"Yes, I am, and we will fix that asap," I said, pulling into my parking space, 503.

Stopping the engine, I leant over and kissed her on her cheek. She turned her head, and our lips met, softly nibbling on each other's lips for a little while. I stepped out of the car and rushed around to open the door for her, helping her out. I watched her shapely legs while she swivelled around on her seat and her spiky heels hit the floor. The hem of her skirt slipped up on her thighs, allowing a glimpse of the welts of her stockings.

"Do you like what you see?" She asked, grinning.

"Yes, Julie. You have great legs," I said, smiling, looking into her eyes as she stood before me, "I love the look of your red toenails in your strappy sandals too."

"Tonight, I dressed for you, Jim. Only for you."

"You are beautiful and so sexy, Julie," I said, kissing her red, luscious lips.

She wrapped her arms around my neck while my hands slipped onto her arse, pulling her into me. Her lips parted, inviting my tongue to enter. Our tongues explored each other's mouths, swirled and danced. Breaking the kiss, we walked to the elevator, pressed number five and watched the numbers light up one by one till the light stopped.

Arm-in-arm, we strolled to apartment number 3, where she leant against the door, looking into my eyes. What I saw in her eyes were pure love and desire. She grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me to her lips, pushing her tongue deep into my mouth. I pinned her to the door while we kissed passionately.

"Jim," she said, catching her breath, "I want you to make love to me. I need to feel loved, not fucked but loved."

I wasn't surprised by what she'd said, and in some ways, I was happy to hear her say that. I found my keycard in my pocket, opened the door, and we fell through it in each other's arms. As soon as the door closed behind us, spinning her around, I pushed her up against the wall. Surprised, she squealed, and our eyes met briefly; hers filled with wanton desire, mine with lust and both full of love.

While her hands were pinned to the wall, I kissed the crook of her neck, making her giggle. I pushed my tongue between her lips and swirled it around hers while our lips melted into each other. I nibbled on her earlobe and swirled my tongue around inside, making her moan, feeling intoxicated by her.