Read The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) for Free Online

for this moment.
    Taking him in her hand, she kissed the tip of that gorgeous cock. She opened her mouth, engulfed his crown, rimmed him with her tongue, and sucked.
    His groan was deep, vibrating through him, through her. A salty bead of pre-come burst against her tongue. She worried him lightly with her teeth. When he didn’t protest, she took him deep, grazing him softly. He was big, almost too much, but she sucked hard on the way back up.
    “Baby.” A tremble in his thighs accompanied the word.
    Cupping his balls, she squeezed as she took him deep again.
    He fisted his hand in her hair. “Fuck.”
    It was reverent praise. She quickened her pace, worked his balls in the palm of one hand, stroked him with the other, three different sensations all at once.
    He gasped. She felt him move. “A picture. Before I can’t hold the phone steady anymore.” He grunted with emphasis as she drew hard on his tip before sucking him to the back of her throat again. “Look at me.” There was strain in his voice.
    She tipped her head back, opened her eyes, held still for a long moment, his cock in her mouth, her fingers wrapped around him. Until she heard the click of the shutter.
    Then he was hers. She drove him to heaven, licked, sucked, stroked, squeezed, his flesh like silk between her lips. She reveled in his harsh sounds, the need in his groan, the scent of desire oozing from his pores, the salt of his come.
    He held her head still, hips pumping with a deep foray into her mouth. She let him take her that way, curling her fingers into his thighs, her nails biting his skin. She didn’t know where the phone was, didn’t care. There was only the burst of him on her tongue, his fluid filling her mouth. She drank, swallowed, caressed him with her tongue. Until the moment his legs seemed to give out, and he slid slowly to his knees beside her.
    God, it was good. Maybe too good.
     
    * * * * *
     
    Damn, that was good. Keith lay naked on their bed. His cock wasn’t hard—he never got completely hard—but he stroked himself, and it felt fucking good. He didn’t ejaculate, but there was sensation, and the dirtier Zoe got for him, the more intense that sensation became.
    Zoe had found the perfect man. This guy was raunchy and aggressive. Keith had always loved the phone calls and pictures. Even the one video she’d made was hot despite the fact that it was so static. Whenever she called during one of her flings, he’d stroke himself to the sounds of their sex. When he was alone with his computer, he’d stroke some more looking at the pics. He had to admit that he stroked at night after Zoe had gone to bed. Oddly, he couldn’t get the same pleasure if they were in their bed. He just couldn’t make it work anymore. But he did enjoy standing outside the bedroom door in the dark listening to her use her vibrator.
    He’d always liked sex dirty, a little name-calling, a taste of debasement; it was one of the things his first wife had hated. She refused to fantasize, thought it was disgusting and demeaning. But Zoe had always loved the games they played.
    They’d never had truly rough sex. He’d never abused her. It was all illusion. He liked to imagine her lovers taking her hard and ruthlessly. It got him going. With his problem, ED or whatever you wanted to call it, he needed that extra kick to feel something. Honestly, he was providing for her needs, too, when he sent her out on these missions. He couldn’t keep her tied to a man who was no longer capable of getting hard enough to make love to her.
    In return, he got this, vicarious sex, and it was hot. This guy made it even hotter. Keith had gotten off on the cuckold thing. I’m going to take your wife. I’m going to fuck your dirty slut wife. Yeah, that had always been one of his hottest fantasies. Like the guy was humiliating both of them. Who knew why he reacted this way? He didn’t care. It was too damn good to care.
    He never thought about the morality of it. They were