The Hotwife Games Ch. 16

THE HOTWIFE GAMES - CH. 16

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'The Hotwife Games' is a story about naughty wives and their husbands participating in a very kinky game-show. And Rakesh's wife Diana intends to be the naughtiest of them all...

You can jump in right here if you like; each chapter is designed as a semi-contained story. Or, if you are new to the series and want the full experience, you can start with the first chapter -- most of the installments are short, brisk, and crammed with sex.

Content warning: hotwifing, swinging, cuckolding, exhibitionism/voyeurism, group sex, experiments with form, and more. Genuine feedback, constructive comments, lavish praise, and the inevitable furious crying from the five closet-cuck incels who troll this section are all happily encouraged!

Take a deep breath, and remember: This is a work of fantasy, designed for the dirty-minded...

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CHAPTER 16 -- [HIGH_QUALITY]HotwifeCastingXXX_S.S.Studio_[NaUghtY_LeGiON](FULL).avi

--

The author leans back in the swiveling bamboo desk chair.

She stretches her arms towards the high arches of the ceiling. She sighs with deep release.

A knot that has been troubling her for three days has just loosened fully.

She swirls her head clockwise, slowly. Then she does it in reverse.

The late afternoon sunlight spreads like a magic lantern on the Tyrrhenian Sea. The other two have surely begun their ascent through the small seaside village.

She rearranges the sheaf of printed pages. A part of her mind is wrapped up in their Courier typeset, scanning those neat, shapeshifting columns for any errors or areas of improvement.

Lawrence Änswer wants it to be perfect.

Perfect is the enemy of great.

And, anyway, it's just a mirage...

The truth is, she doesn't really give a damn what Änswer thinks. She doesn't much give a damn what anyone thinks.

What she cares most about is her secret.

A secret she will soon be revealing...

--

Diana stared at the rack full of outfits.

She couldn't help but wonder if, before picking out her options, the Hotwife Games wardrobe department had collectively consumed a heroic dose of mushrooms.

There was an elegant cocktail dress, two-piece business attire, a nurse's scrubs, a Regency-Era duchess outfit, a fitted camouflage jumpsuit, a festive green elf costume... one after the next, the row was stacked with a motley soufflé of inexplicable and bizarre choices of clothing.

Standing behind it was another rack, this one containing the apparent male counterparts to these costumes.

Diana's eyes were scanning over them when the door to the small green room opened behind her.

"Your husband's just been dropped off," Chris smiled. "He's at the uppermost point of the island. Soon he's gonna start searching for you."

Diana smiled back at the show's handsome co-host. She was still bemused by the strange mélange of clothes behind her. But she felt the necessity to clarify the rules that Jessica had explained to her, before she'd been secreted away to this clandestine green room.

"He has three hours, right? But he has to cum before he finds me, or we lose?"

"That's correct," Chris responded, hiding the lie behind his TV-friendly grin. "So if you want to win, you'll have to help him out."

"Well, that's my main question. Besides staying hidden as best I can, how the hell can I do that?"

It was a valid inquiry. They weren't even aware of each other's locations, and if they did become proximal, the game was over. Did the Hotwife Games expect her to deploy some kind of psychokinetic sorcery to make her husband cum?

Chris looked reassuringly at the beautiful hotwife. His eyes couldn't help but steal down to the cleavage exposed between the lapels of her short white bathrobe. All through the Games, his arousal for Diana had ramped higher and higher as he watched her brazen antics. Now, he had to hold in his excitement... if he was to convince her to go along with his plan.

"Well, the Games wanted to give you some options," Chris told the attractive wife. "You can pick out a costume, and then we'll go into the studio next door. It's a full backlot, with a bunch of different sets."

Diana turned and re-examined the dual racks of clothes. The math of the situation began to click into clarity.

"There are also cameras set up," Chris smiled. "Each one is live-streaming to screens all around the island."

"You want me to make a porno..."

"We don't want you to, necessarily," said Chris. It was the second lie he'd told in that conversation. "But if you want to -- to help your husband out -- you can think about what kind of video might get him excited... might even induce him to cum the fastest... and choose a costume that works."

She was still gazing at the racks of variegated outfits. There were also pirate costumes, a naughty cheerleader get-up, a sex slave outfit complete with handcuffs and ropes...

"Choose two costumes, you mean." She pointed to the second rack, laden with the corresponding outfits that were designed for a man.

"Well, sure. If you wanted, you could choose to make the video with a partner. To turn Rakesh on even more, obviously. Again, it's up to you. You can decide who you want to --"

Diana whirled around and cut Chris off.

"You want to make the video with me, don't you?"

Chris stammered. It was the hotwife's turn to flash a grin at him.

He held up his hands -- caught me.

Already, Diana had made up her mind. An image flashed into her head of a website she had once found open, early in their marriage, on Rakesh's computer. She knew exactly what kind of video would get him off. All the more if she was the star...

She didn't know it, but the husband and wife duo were about to be locked in a very high-stakes battle of wills -- her trying to make him cum, and him resisting with all he was worth.

Diana stepped closer to Chris. She stared into his eyes. She undid the belt on her robe, and shucked the robe off her shoulders.

"Let's make a porno."

--

CUT TO BLACK.

TITLE CARD:

II.

Chris Cavendish

in

THE WIZARD OF THE O

--

Rakesh literally jumped at the sound of his wife's voice.

"Am I in the right place?" Diana had asked.

He wheeled around, swiftly detaching his former teacher's grasp on his penis.

The large screen mounted over the waterfall shone brightly. The image on it showed a medium shot of his wife seating herself on a blue-gray couch.

Diana looked ravishingly pretty. She wore a satin blue dress that hung low and showed off her luscious cleavage. Sparkling diamond earrings dangled from her lobes and a bejeweled necklace adorned her neckline. Despite the sexy cut of the outfit, the whole effect was decidedly elegant.

Rakesh turned fully to the looming LCD image, his brow furrowing as he realized her words were directed at someone behind the camera.

"Yes you are, darling," replied an unseen man over the screen's speakers. "Get comfortable. And state your name for the camera, please."

"Um, Diana," Diana said, a little nervously. "Diana Vaibhav... Do I use my real name, or?"

Rakesh was trying to determine what was going on when Mrs. Panchad came up behind him. She joined the naked banker as he regarded his onscreen spouse.

"That's totally up to you," the man responded. "Some models choose an alias, some use their real names."

Slowly, the full context of the streaming video began to dawn over Rakesh.

"Okay," Diana giggled. She was playing the part coquettishly, and perfectly, to the camera. "It's Diana."

"And is that Mrs. Diana Vaibhav, or --"

"Yes," she responded, holding up the hand with her real wedding ring. "I'm married. Is that an issue?"

Mrs. Panchad was registering the same thing as Rakesh. "This looks a lot like --"

"A casting couch porn video," Rakesh finished for her.

A rather specific kind, he realized with an accelerating heart. A type that Diana had obviously discovered on his computer. The kind of porn featuring an elegant, sexy married woman.

In this case, the married woman was his own wife.

--

INT. CASTING STUDIO ROOM - DAY

The footage is just a hair grainy, as though filmed on a dated model of a Handicam.

DIANA, elegant and gorgeous, toys with one diamond earring. CHRIS speaks off-screen.

CHRIS (O.S.)

No issue at all, darling. All we need for the calendar are some shots of a beautiful woman... and, married or not, you sure are that.

Diana blushes, looking down and breaking eye contact.

CHRIS (O.S.)

So, do you have any modeling experience?

DIANA

Oh, no, none... I mean, my ex-boyfriend once took some pictures of me, but -- that's it. I just want to build a portfolio. I hear the money's good.

CHRIS (O.S.)

What kinda pictures?

DIANA

What?

CHRIS (O.S.)

What kinda pictures did your ex-boyfriend take?

DIANA

Oh. Just... some shots in my bikini.

(beat)

Gosh, I think my husband would get jealous if he knew that!

CHRIS (O.S.)

Hah. Let's not worry about him. So you're comfortable taking pictures in a bikini.

DIANA

Um, I dunno. Like I said, my husband would get --

CHRIS (O.S.)

Does he get jealous often?

DIANA

No. Not often. Just when guys hit on me. I think he's a little paranoid that I'll cheat on him or something.

Diana laughs. A beat.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Would ya'?

DIANA

Cheat? Of course not! I love Rakesh.

--

Rakesh felt a complicated sensation. His wife, luminous on the large screen, was playing the character of an innocent, married prospective model -- and she was playing it to a tee. The granular live footage and Diana's committed act had Rakesh feeling like he really was watching a porno of one of his secret, favorite genres.

Yet it was his real wife up there. And she was using both of their real names.

His mind may have been confused, but his cock bobbed in the air, rigid and excited. Mrs. Panchad looked down and noticed...

--

CHRIS (O.S.)

I'm sure your husband would be happy to hear that. Now, why don't ya' stand up so we can see what you look like?

DIANA

Oh, um, okay.

Diana stands up from the couch. Camera zooms out slightly, capturing the length of her curvaceous body. The short blue dress reveals the young wife's toned legs. Her pretty feet are clad in a pair of black high heels.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Wow. Your husband is a lucky man.

DIANA

(blushing)

Oh. Thanks.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Turn around for me, darling. Need to see you from the back.

DIANA

Oh. For the calendar?

The young wife looks confused.

CHRIS (O.S.)

That's right.

Slowly, Diana turns her back to the camera. Her peach-shaped ass is delectable in the body-hugging dress.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Fuck.

DIANA

(looking back)

Sorry?

CHRIS (O.S.)

Nothing. Face forward, please.

Diana turns her head back. Gradually, the camera scans down her hourglass body, then zooms in on her ass.

--

Rakesh felt his member throb as the unseen cameraman -- with a voice he found increasingly recognizable, though it seemed to possess a different accent -- sleazily pulled focus on Diana's plump round derriere.

He felt irrationally conflicted. On the one hand, it felt like his wife was being exploited by this lecherous "modeling scout." It didn't take Pauline Kael to know exactly where this plot was heading.

On the other hand, Rakesh's logical brain knew that Diana was merely playing into the sleazeball plot-line, not just consensually but likely by her own design. A plot-line, he realized, that was unfolding with the specific intent of maximally turning him on.

The calculation should have rocketed another thought into Rakesh's rational mind: get back to the mission. But before he could think it, Mrs. Panchad reached down and took hold of his cock once again.

--

CHRIS (O.S.)

You can turn around now.

Diana does.

DIANA

Did you get a good shot?

CHRIS (O.S.)

I did.

(beat)

So, I need to see your body next.

DIANA

Um, my body?

CHRIS (O.S.)

Yes, why don't you take off your dress and I'll get a few shots of your body?

DIANA

In my underwear?

CHRIS (O.S.)

That's right, babe. Just your underwear.

A beat passes.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Whassamatter?

DIANA

I don't think my husband would like that.

CHRIS (O.S.)

He knows you want to model, doesn't he? Well, we'll need to take some bikini shots for the calendar. So I need to see your body.

Diana looks down shyly.

DIANA

I guess I've taken bikini photos before.

Slowly, she releases each strap of the dress. She works it off her body.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Wow. Very nice, darling.

Diana's clad in a lacy red bra and panties that offer erotic peeks of her nipples and landing strip below the diaphanous lace.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Turn around for me.

Diana rotates, revealing the G-string of the lace panties.

CHRIS (O.S.)

Holy fuck.

DIANA

(turning)

Do I look okay?

CHRIS (O.S.)

You look gorgeous, darling. Now we're going to need to see your boobs.

DIANA

(shocked)

What?

CHRIS (O.S.)

For the calendar. To make sure they, uh, are the right size.

DIANA

Oh. Well, I guess if you have to...

CHRIS (O.S.)

I'm sure your husband will understand.

--

Whoever was behind the camera might have been role-playing, but the excitement in his voice was palpable.

Rakesh couldn't tear his eyes from the screen as Diana undid her bra and let it drop off of her shapely tits, all performed with a mock-shyness that was remarkably convincing.

"Mmm. Fuck yes. Now let me see the rest," said the unseen cameraman.

--

DIANA

The rest?

CHRIS (O.S.)

I need to see your pussy.

Diana casts her eyes downward again. She softly murmurs.

CHRIS (O.S.)

What's wrong?

Diana gives a little shrug, her arms pushing her naked boobs together.

After a second, Chris comes around the camera, now visible in the frame. He walks up to her.

--

Rakesh gave a full-body startle.

Of course. The voice behind the camera was fucking Chris.

Rakesh's attention had been so consumed by the thin plot of this facsimile porno that he'd allowed his former teacher to gently massage his dick while he watched. But at the sight of the Hotwife Games' attractive co-host, he snapped to attention, grasping her wrist and pausing her attempted handjob.

He'd noted that Chris was no longer wearing his on-set tailored suit. Instead, the co-host's attire was a spot-on characterization of the prototypical casting director in those sleazy old videos.

--

Chris approaches Diana and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. He wears ill-fitting jeans, Nike sneakers, a low baseball cap, and a baggy gray t-shirt. There is a Nikon still camera slung around his neck.

His back is turned to camera, but his smile is visible in profile.

CHRIS

What's wrong, darling? You look so beautiful.

DIANA

I'm -- I'm married, that's all.

CHRIS

Trust me, babe, your husband would be so proud of you right now.

DIANA

(looks up shyly)

Yeah?

CHRIS

He'd love to show off such a hot wife. He'd love that you're showing me that beautiful body.

Diana blushes again.

--

Well, shit, thought Rakesh. She is a really good actress.

With every word and gesture, he was being sucked into the patent fantasy that his wife was innocently trying to get cast as a bikini model. He truly felt like a voyeur into this nondescript room, where the ludicrous process was taking place.

Rakesh stopped.

Where was it taking place? He looked at his watch. He panicked at the digital readout. Two hours and thirty-four minutes remaining to find his wife. Time had been moving faster than he thought.

He needed to find something in this live-stream to clue him in about its location...

--

CHRIS

Why don't you show me your pussy, and I'll take a couple pictures? 'Kay, darling?

At length, Diana nods.

Slowly, the beautiful hotwife draws her thong down her thighs and calves. She steps out of it.

CHRIS

Wow.

DIANA

(shy)

Do you like my pussy?

CHRIS

(camera snapping)

It's so fucking hot.

(takes more photos)

Pose for me, darling.

Diana strikes some reluctant poses.

CHRIS

Come on, darling. Pose like you want the camera. Like you're begging for it...

Gradually, she loosens up.

Soon, Diana is bending over the couch and showing off her snatch and ass to Chris's camera.

CHRIS

FUCK. You are the hottest thing I've ever seen --

--

Rakesh's jealousy swelled as he gazed on Chris lustfully taking pictures of his wife's juicy cunt and asshole. Diana looked back at him with an open, inviting mouth, basking in her role of the sweet young wife turned sex-kitten.

Chris, however, seemed to have lost his grip on the particular "character" he was playing. His accent and voice reverted to his own as he lusted over her.

Rakesh tried to keep his attention on his task. His eyes scoured the screen for any hint as to where on this island Diana and Chris might be.

But the on-screen set had no windows. There was no visible art; not even any furniture apart from the stuffed couch in the frame.

--

CHRIS

Alright, we gotta see one more thing, darling.

Confused, Diana stands back up.

CHRIS

I need to get some dancing shots.

Chris flops down, sitting on the couch and facing the camera for the first time. The tent in his jeans is visible.

CHRIS

Give me a lap dance.

--

Rakesh's eyes narrowed.

"You have a very naughty wife."

The sexy teacher's voice jolted him. Rakesh had almost forgotten about Mrs. Panchad. His attention had been arrested by a new piece of information crystallizing on the LCD.

"His shirt..." Rakesh began.

--

The naked married woman sways back and forth in front of the seated "casting agent". Her shapely ass faces the camera.

DIANA

Gosh, I hope my husband doesn't get mad about this...

CHRIS

(breathy)

Oh, forget Rakesh. This is for me...