Β© 2021, All rights reserved -- mimaster
Last month, one of my very loyal readers emailed me to let me know this story has been plagiarized, and is posted on Amazon under an author named Isabella David, under the title Hotwife: An Erotic Lifestyle. They've copied the text of the first dozen or so chapters off of Literotica, and claimed them as their own. It's one of the only flaws of this website, in that it allows that to happen instead of protecting its submitters by locking published pages so they can't be stolen. I truly hope some changes can be made to do that.
This hack, Isabella David, has at least 4 other titles on Amazon that were more than likely plagiarized as well. I've tried contacting Amazon about the issue, but have yet to find a resolution I'm satisfied with. I'm not sure I will. In the meantime, feel free to go to Amazon and comment on those titles that Isabella David is a plagiarist.
Instead of just stopping writing, I'm posting this disclaimer. I have only published my work on line on Literotica. Until you read here that I've changed my mind, if you find something I've written elsewhere, it's been plagiarized.
A huge 'Thank You' to Lddebate for the heads up. I'm forever grateful for that loyalty, and for alerting me.
As for this chapter, things are about to get pretty dark. If that's not your thing, stop reading. I've said from the start that this series is not for everyone. Reading it and then downvoting when you've been warned is a *Richard Relocation. Don't be that person.
*Dick Move
Salvaging vacation, Christina asserts control; Gerard toys.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sunday morning, April 14th
"Are you ready, Christina?" Alex called through the bathroom door. "The kids are starving."
"Almost, sweetie. Five minutes, I promise," she answered back.
He sighed, knowing it was going to be longer than that. It was always longer than that. It was one of the reasons he'd invoked the children provision, hoping the mention of them might spur her on to go a bit faster. It was good in theory, but seldom worked.
Christina was actually mostly ready. Her bags were packed. Her makeup was fastidiously done in hotwife mode. Her sheer black blouse was tight and mostly unbuttoned, her cleavage popping from the lacy red bra that was clearly visible underneath. She was wearing another pair of Louboutins, also black with the distinctive red soles, but these being open-toed.
She had a short red miniskirt picked out, lying on the counter as she stared at the erotic toy that she held in her hand. It was from Gerard; the soft pink rubbery surface feeling naughty in her hand. It didn't have instructions. He'd sent her ones of his own. She was to slip the larger, three inch portion that looked like more of an egg than anything else, into her pussy. The other end of the odd horseshoe design apparently wedged up against her pubic bone to hold it in place.
She wasn't sure of the purpose, but she wasn't about to question him about. Instead she slipped it inside, giggling at the strange sensation of how it felt.
"Certainly better than a chastity belt," she smiled. Putting on a pair of the lacy boy short panties he'd sent with it, finding a color that matched her bra perfectly, she stepped into the skirt and zipped it up.
Taking her makeup case off the counter, she took one last look at her reflection, approving of the wicked image she saw starimg back. Turning, she took a couple of steps, and nearly stumbled. The feeling of the toy pressing directly against her clit, held firm by the shorts, wasn't something she expected.
"God... that's incredible," she sang as she regained her composure. "I'm going to have to thank him for this." She opened the door and strutted toward the front of the bungalow. "Who am I kidding? I'm going to thank him by letting him fuck the shit out of me three days a week!"
Alex's mouth fell open as she walked into the room. She stopped briefly, making her breasts bounce as she allowed his eyes to wander over her body. It was such a difference in attitude and perspective for her. She'd always dressed stylish, but safe. Never pushing the boundaries of what a good girl would wear. She was anything but that now. The desire she felt from his leering made her wet. She loved the euphoria that gave her, like a high from a drug; something she could suddenly relate to.
"Sweet Jesus," he moaned, almost drooling.
"Mmm... is my cuckold turned on by his hotwife," she teased.
He tried to play off what she called him by saying, "Huh? Oh... it's not that. I'm just surprised you're out of the bathroom before you said you'd be."
"That's too bad. I'm not going to be acting
like that
kind of hotwife until tomorrow. You could have stagged it up and fucked me like you did last night when we got home. I would have been down for more of that."
He didn't know if she was teasing him or not. After all, their last night together at the resort had been a memorable one. Starting at dinner.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They'd taken the kids to one of the nicer restaurants on the property, all of them actually dressing up a bit for the occasion. The only exception was he'd insisted she wear a skirt with no panties. She used what she referred to as her 'hotwife prerogative' to change his mind, instead wearing a tight, form fitting mini-dress that was very short. It was a light beige, the sleeves coming to midway down her forearms. Both of her shoulders were exposed, the top stretching across her upper chest. Because of the design it allowed her good reason to forget a bra; the outline of her nipple rings pressing into the snug fabric.
He sat next to her at the table, the long white linen cloth hiding the view underneath. He spent a great deal of time toying with her legs, running his hands lightly over her silky thighs. As time passed he became more bold, making her part them wider, allowing him access to her wetness. She nearly dropped her salad fork the first time he grazed her labia. From there, the intensity only increased.
She was in the middle of a rather elegant dinner, holding conversation with not only him, but her children as well. All the while, she had to fight for composure, as he went from merely touching to actually fingering her. It was subtle, but sublimely effective. She felt her pulse quicken, a bead of sweat forming on her upper lip. She was confused as to how he could eat with one hand while literally stoking the fire that was beginning to rage inside her.
He stopped penetrating her walls, moving instead to concentrate on her clit. He began rubbing his fingers over it, changing motions and directions often. He began slowly at first, toying with her. But the intensity increased both in speed and the pressure he applied.
Christina was desperate. Her body craved the climax that was certain to arrive before the call for dessert. Her mind was racing, holding on, fighting to control her emotions. Her desires. The idea of cumming while in such close proximity of her children frightened her. She wanted to be a slut. That life called to her now. But her motherly instincts screamed inside her head to maintain her priorities; to keep those two lives separated as much as possible.
She knew it was going to be a struggle, and the lines would become blurred at times. She didn't want to totally turn off her newfound sexuality. That was why she'd pushed the agenda to become freer around the house with regard to nudity, and by dressing much more provocatively around her family and in public. She wanted to embrace the changes she and Alex were making in their lives.
And that was the crux of the conflict she was feeling inside her rapidly beating chest. This wasn't a dalliance with a random man, or a boytoy, or her bull. This was
her husband