Just to be clear up front — this is a "hotwife" story, not a "cuckold" story. No one is being cheated on, and Kara and her husband do love each other.
It contains consensual group sex.
Kara's experiences throughout the series will get kinkier as the stories progress.
Unlike the stories in the Tawny series, which get down to business pretty quickly, this one has more buildup, and a little more story in the first couple of chapters. Tawny and Eric are well-established in their marriage, and their understanding of Tawny's sexual desires when we meet them.
Kara and Clay, however, are still early in their journey into the things that Kara likes, and their experiences will evolve as the series goes on.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Unlike the real world, STI's don't exist and birth control is 100% effective. In reality, the lifestyle depicted here would present a large health risk, and a non-zero pregnancy risk.
Fantasy is fine, but real women in the real world are quite unlikely to share Kara's sexual tastes.
Copyright © 2024 by EightBits.
All Rights Reserved.
Alumni Weekend - Part 1
Welcome to the Party
I stood in the main party room, and took it all in. The impossible-to-eradicate faint smell of stale beer, the tacky posters of scantily-clad women on the wall, and the painfully loud music.
Still, I was smiling as memories of my time in this big old frat house came flooding back. It was an alumni recognition weekend, and after turning down the annual invitations for all those years, I'd decided that the ten year anniversary of my graduation seemed like the right time to finally attend one of these events.
All the partying Omega Beta Theta members around me seemed to be enjoying themselves, as did the the women in attendance — a mix of girlfriends, girls from their sister sorority, and random students. Not unlike the parties I remembered, the guys outnumbered the girls by at least four-to-one. Granted, the night was young, and the throng would grow, but I expected that ratio to hold fairly steady. I was pleased to see at least a little more racial diversity than we'd had back in my day, although the crowd was still mostly well off white kids.
In the decade since I'd been back to visit, the old fraternity house itself didn't seem to have changed much, although I apparently had. Back then, the posters had seemed like tasteful decor, the thumping bass of the music had been perfect, and I'd been oblivious to the smell.
No, the house itself was still the same solid, ancient structure — a worn but comfortable place that I'd spent several memorable years in. It had high ceilings, and old-school thick plaster walls. At least the ones that were original were, as the floor plan had been changed to turn an old mid-sized mansion into the home of the Omega Beta Thetas.
The original first floor rooms — parlors, sitting room, dining room, study, and so on — had all become rooms devoted to parties on the weekends, and hang-out spaces for the fraternity brothers during the week. Only the large kitchen had retained its original purpose.
The upstairs had become a maze of small bedrooms, new doorways cut and new walls added to allow maybe a dozen members the privilege of living in the house. My bedroom had been cramped, but the convenience of being able to just stagger upstairs after a party had made up for it.
The basement was still mostly spaces for the various greek meetings, rituals, and other events, plus some storage. In contrast to the first floor, and the upstairs bedrooms, which saw their fair share of temporary guests of the female persuasion, access to the basement was strictly limited to fraternity members only.
I had really enjoyed seeing the campus and the house again, and getting to meet some of the actives. We'd spent a good chunk of the afternoon swapping stories about the frat then and now, with both the actives and us alumni learning about how things had changed over the years.
The only sour note was that my wife Kara wasn't able to be at tonight's party. Her role at a high-flying tech startup kept her busy, often beyond the weekday nine-to-five. We'd flown into town last night, and she'd begged out of today's tour and meet-and greet due to work, promising she'd be free for the party. Alas, even that plan had changed when some fresh crisis had popped up a couple hours ago. She'd apologized profusely at having to spend the evening making calls and writing damage-control emails instead of accompanying me to the party.
Not only had I been looking forward to showing her around my old school and fraternity, I had been looking forward to showing
her
off at the party. Kara was, in a single word, a knockout. She was tall and curvy, with long, shapely legs and a body she kept toned with religious gym time. Add a gorgeous face framed by shoulder-length blonde hair that looked great against her flawless ivory skin, and it's no exaggeration to say that she turned heads everywhere she went.
Furthermore, some of the guys I'd been in the frat with would be at tonight's party, and I'd been looking forward to seeing them lust after my dazzlingly sexy wife. Yeah, that's probably not particularly enlightened. Even so, any guy with a beautiful wife feels that way, whether they admit it or not.
We all care about our status amongst our friends, acquaintances, co-workers, and even strangers on the street. For guys at least, women, houses, cars, clothes, and even lawns are things we use to impress the competition. Yes, I know that women aren't "things" in the way an expensive sports-car is, but wives and girlfriends are definitely a large part of the calculations guys make when comparing ourselves to other guys.
I'd just gotten my second drink, a screwdriver made with no-name vodka, and I happened to be looking at the front door when to my surprise and delight, I saw Kara step into the wide entryway.
A grin on my face, I started towards her. She looked around the room, and obviously saw me — she paused to look me in the eyes — but then she continued with her scan of the room and completely ignored me. My grin faded, and confused, I stopped walking. For a second, I considered that maybe she was just a girl who looked a lot like Kara, and I only
thought
I was seeing my wife because of how much I wanted her with me tonight. No, it was her. She was wearing a slinky green dress that I'd never seen before, and large silver hoops dangling from her earlobes, two features that had contributed to my moment of doubt. Kara hated big earrings, never wearing anything other than classic little studs with diamonds or other gemstones.
The door was currently being manned by a guy with a wrestler's build, and close-cropped hair that was so blonde it was almost white, contrasting sharply with his bronze skin.
He said something to her that I didn't catch, as he had his back to me.
By this time, I'd edged close enough to hear her reply. Kara looked at him innocently as she responded, "No, I don't go to school here, but the friend I'm staying with did. I'm in town for a photo-shoot, and she said that you guys throw a great party." She gave him a cute little frown. "Is that a problem?"
The guy looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the swell of her firm 32DD breasts beneath that tight dress. He started to grin, then his eyes finally made it down to her hands, and the incipient grin quickly faded as he saw her wedding ring.
"Oh, this?" she said. She made a motion like she was shooing away a fly. With a wink, she added, "This doesn't mean I can't have...
fun
." She said the word "fun" in a way that left no question as to what kind of fun she was talking about.
His grin came back, and he said happily, "Then nope, no problem at all. Welcome to the Omega Beta Theta alumni bash. I'm Curt." He looked her up and down again. "I'll find you when I'm done with my turn at the door," he said, sounding confident that she'd want to be found.
Kara gave him another wink, and in a sultry voice I'd only heard in our bedroom, said, "I hope you do."
It was obvious that her not being a student didn't matter to him, which was not a surprise. At 26, she was four years younger than me, and she still got carded when we went to bars. I've seen pictures of Kara from her college days, and I know it's a cliche, but she hasn't changed a bit.
For my part, I was still trying to process her pretending not to know me, the dress, the earrings, and the interplay I'd just seen between her and Curt. Suddenly, the exchange we'd had back in our hotel room just before I left for the party came back to me. At the time, it had seemed to be just husband-and wife teasing banter, although now it took on a whole new meaning.
❖ ❖ ❖
I stopped buttoning up my shirt as Kara looked up at me over the open screen of her laptop. "Clay, do you think any of the girls there will be sexier than me?"
We'd been married for three years — plenty of time for me to have learned to spot a trap when I saw one. Fortunately, in this case, the truth was a perfectly good answer.
"Nope." I'd said, as I resumed getting dressed for the party. "Don't think that's possible."
She'd tilted her head, and said "That's sweet." Her tone had become flirty as she continued. "But what will you do if there's some really hot girl there looking for a gang-bang?"
"Don't worry babe, you can trust me to not join in." I'd smiled. "I might watch though..."
She'd given me a grin — the lascivious one that always surprised people due to Kara's angelic looks — and said, "I'd be disappointed if you didn't. I know what you like."
❖ ❖ ❖
My thoughts returned to the present. What did I like? As she well knew, gang-bangs were one of my favorite porn genres. More importantly, she also knew that my absolute favorite was the "hotwife" fantasy, where the husband finds it exciting when his wife has sex with another man... or men.
Even before I'd married Kara, I'd found the thought of my girlfriends having sex with other people exciting. Those thoughts had only intensified when they had gone from being about girlfriends to being about my wife.
I felt a sensation in the pit of my stomach, both hot and cold at the same time. Was she here to have sex with one of my frat brothers? Holy hell, was she here to get gang-banged?
In the last year or two, I'd felt comfortable enough to tiptoe around the possibility of her actually fulfilling my hotwife fantasy. Her reaction hadn't been negative, but it hadn't been positive either. Mainly she'd acted like she thought I wasn't truly serious, and I'd never pressed it. Both our marriage and our sex life were terrific; I wasn't going to jeopardize either of them for some fantasy she didn't share, no matter how enticing.
I watched Kara casually circulate around the room, never too far from me, but never too close either. She was looking at the house itself, as though judging it, while she drifted in and out of groups, as one tends to do at a party where you don't know anyone. Frat members approached her, of course. She'd give them a smile, or a laugh, and then somehow slip away, moving on in the room.
