Hotwife Hotel: A Wifewatching Romance by Jason Lenov

of her body underneath the tight red shirt she'd donned. There were two of them so it wasn't easy. One would talk me up while the other leered and then they'd switch. Or at least that's what I had myself convinced they did. I did my best to hold in the copious amounts of liquid I'd ingested, but there came a point in the evening where I didn't have a choice but to go to the bathroom. So I left her there with them.
    As I stood above the toilet, my head spinning slightly as I pissed away at least a few days worth of bookings, I tried to listen to what was going on behind the door. A terrifying thrill crept through me, one I tried to push away. But as it did every time, my cock got the better of my head and instead of flushing and rejoining the party, I eased the door open and crept into the darkened hall.
    What I thought I was going to find there I had no idea. Did I really think these two men, staying here for free at Sam's request would try to seduce my wife? The thing that scared me most was that somewhere in my mind I hoped they would.
    An outburst of laughter made me jump back into the shadows. I'd tried to peer around the corner, hoping they were all still facing the other way. When the gentle murmur of their voices resumed, I dared to stick my head out towards the light again, half-hoping I'd be disappointed. and half-hoping I'd be torn to shreds by what I saw.
    It turned out to be a little bit of both.
    That now familiar tremor shuddered through me as I saw the two of them on either side of my wife. She was looking back and forth between them, smiling at what they were saying but somewhere in her expression I could see a thin veil of fear barely cloaking her arousal. It wasn't that she was throwing herself onto them. No. It was just the faintest difference from what she was normally like.
    She sat proudly in her chair, like she couldn't have been more pleased to know that she was the object of these two men's attention. When one or the other of them said something funny, she would throw her head back in a laugh, exposing the soft skin of her perfectly smooth neck, then lean in and touch them on the arm.
    Not a long touch, or one that made it clear what she was up to, no. Just the slightest touch that could be easily misunderstood. A touch that gave no more consent than her laugh, but one that I could tell was making both of them wired and alert, searching for a clearer sign.
    I punished myself a bit for standing there and staring. What kind of man was I? Why would I find this arousing? But those questions now seemed tired and there was something much more pressing that needed to be addressed. I was rock hard against my jeans and no matter how many times I told myself I had to, I couldn't tear my eyes away. It wasn't until I saw her puzzled look, then saw her stand, that I realized what she meant to do.
    As she began to walk towards where I was standing, I dipped back into the shadows, turned and kicked plastic bucket full of empty soda cans to be returned, sending them clattering onto the floor. Adrenaline, the serious kind, took over and I bolted for the bathroom, flushed the toilet, washed my hands and was standing in the hallway with the light on, staring down at my shoes when Rebecca floated into view.
    "What's going on here?" she asked, smiling a very curious smile.
    "Oh I'm such an idiot!" I said, sending my hands into the air in mock exasperation, then looking down at the floor. The only thing was, every single soda can was
behind
me. Really the only way I could have kicked them that way from where I was standing, was if I'd been playing soccer with the bucket and had kicked it with my heel.
    Her smile warmed as she stared straight at me. Even if she hadn't seen me lurking, I knew she knew exactly what I'd done. "Come on John Forrest. There's something we have to do."
    "Rebecca?" I asked, grabbing at her as she turned and walked back towards the kitchen, but not catching her in time. Whatever it was she had in