I climbed out of the taxi and stepped onto the concrete with my friends, enjoying our bi-monthly girls' night out on the town. We were a small group of close, mid-thirties, married, mothers, and we'd just come from a wine bar, so my head was already buzzing. It had been a good night so far, but it was about to turn wild, with the kind of reckless abandon I hadn't indulged in for a while.
My dress clung to my mommy curves, which I was proud of at my age. I still worked out and ate well. Tight fabric could, thankfully, still accentuate my curvaceous figure and heavy bust. Laughing with my friends, my long, brown hair catching in the breeze, my blue eyes glinted at the young men vaping outside the cocktail bar we had come to.
They were handsome, but perhaps a little too young, in their early to mid-twenties, I reckoned. Still, that didn't stop me from doing a bit of 'window shopping'. I had caught them looking at me first, as I teetered into the bar on my stiletto heels, enjoying the attention and feeling desired.
Inside the Cuban-style cocktail bar, things spiralled soon after a few shots. Everything became a bit of a blur, not an intoxicating blur, but the Latino music, laughter, and the amount of people simply blended together. Then I locked eyes with him, and the night truly spiralled in a different direction.
Ben. Barely twenty-four-years old. I felt like a cougar. I was approaching thirty-seven. But he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, blond, and virile, and he had beautiful blue eyes that saw straight through me. I was generally more attracted to older guys, but I made an exception for Ben. There was something very exciting and interesting about him.
I teased him at the bar to begin with, asking him what his parents would say if they saw their precious son chatting up married mothers in a bar. Exuding confidence beyond his years, he gave me a 'come to bed smile' and asked why I was letting a random guy buy me a drink if I was happily married.
"Who said I was happily married?" I flirted seductively, stirring the cocktail he'd just bought me with a straw.
Ben gave me that gorgeous smile of his again, making me weak at the knees. "I'm not even going to ask about your marriage," he said. "But I am going to ask if you'd like to dance with me?"
"Go on then," I smirked wryly. We both knew what the answer was going to be.
Ben asked and I accepted, receiving a rapturous applause from my friends. I was so impressed with him. His confidence knew no bounds, and he wasn't arrogant or cocky. He didn't over step his mark either. So I did. I draped my arms around his neck and kissed his soft lips, giving him the green light to put his hands on my hips and rounded buttocks.
As we danced, mostly talking and flirting, the rest kissing, I learned that Ben was training to become a junior doctor. I was further impressed. But I partly lied about myself, telling him I was housewife with a husband and two kids. He didn't need to know that I was really a respectable line manger, or that I was happily married, so I let him believe what he wanted to believe.
I enjoyed dancing and kissing with him. He was a passionate kisser, with soft lips and a smooth tongue. He had a firm, gentle grip too, at least on my arse he did, discreetly groping me on the dance floor. I loved every second of it. Then my young fancy man suggested something I should have seen coming. Ben whispered intimately in my ear.
"Do you fancy coming back to my apartment with me, Jemma?" he asked, his voice low, his words inviting, both causing a pool of lust to seep into my knickers.
My heart hammered in my chest, putting adrenaline in my veins. I was definitely up for it, but I had to check with my husband, Paul, first. It was an unspoken rule, one that kept our marriage running smoothly and allowed me to indulge in the hotwife lifestyle, when the opportunity presented itself. I told Ben not to go anywhere, while I popped to the ladies'.
Inside one of the cubicles, I texted Paul, asking him how he was doing. The kids were staying with my mother, while he had a few friends round to watch the boxing. He replied, asking if I was on my way home or planning on going back to someone else's home. He could read my like a book, which I loved. He was my rock, such a confident, understanding, and a very loving man.
I texted again. "His names Ben. 24 and gorgeous!"
A few moments later, my screen lit up. "Text me when you get there, and I want you home straight after it. Have fun and be safe."
"Of course. I love you. See you later." I typed back.
Excitement ran through my body, mixed with a thrill of anticipation. My husband was used to this by now. He's a cuckold at heart, but I don't fool around with other men that often. It took me years to understand Paul's fantasies and desires. But once I did, I came to embrace them, and my own.
I stepped out of the cubicle to be faced by my best friend, Victoria. "Let me guess..." she smiled knowingly.
"What? It's been a while," I giggled.
"I'll tell the others you just left to go home in a taxi. Don't let them see you walking out with that guy. Kissing, they can handle, but hotwifing... that's a whole different level of gossip," Victoria warned me.
"I know," I hugged her. "You're the best."
"Be safe," she warned me one last time before we separated for the night.
Victoria had found out by accident. I had to tell her after she overheard me talking on the phone to Paul one time, which is why we now text, and why I usually did it while working away at hotels. Once she had taken the other girls to another bar, I rejoined Ben, who thought I was cheating on my husband.
His apartment was small but modern, with IKEA furniture everywhere. I hoped the bed wasn't going to break, because I was hot and horny. It was a nice place. Clean and tidy for a young bachelor, and the air smelled fresh and neutral. The young man continued to impress me without even really trying.
"Would you like a glass of wine, Jemma?" he asked, leading me into the kitchen.
"No thank you, Ben. I've had enough to drink for one night," I said in a sultry tone.
Ben smiled. "It doesn't have to be alcohol."
"I'd rather you give me what you invited me here for," I teased, leaning suggestively against the countertop, locking eyes with him.
He smiled again, eyeing me with curious intent. "You're so beautiful and sexy," he said, stepping towards me, brushing my hair off my shoulder.
"I'm glad you think so," I replied. "You're not bad yourself." The anticipation was intense.
Without another word, Ben brought his mouth to mine and kissed me, his hand cupping the side of my face, while his other hand went to my hip. I followed, embracing him with the same level of tentativeness as we explored each others mouths in the silence of his apartment, nothing in our way.
Ben's touch was electric, as it always was with a new man, but his youth and energy were a stark contrast to my husbands steady, familiar embrace. Hotwifing showed me that I needed both in my life, and Paul showed me I could have both. He had the confidence to give it to me, and I took it, feeling alive, reckless, and so, so, free.
Kissing and breathing heavily, we eventually made it into the bedroom, our playground for the next couple of hours. Our clothes were quickly discarded in a hurried heap on the floor, then Ben's firm hands really were everywhere, tracing the curves of my body with a desire that left me breathless. I moaned feverishly as he kissed around my neck and throat, grazing me with his lips.
"You're so hot, Jemma," his voice quivered, the first sign that he was overwhelmed. "I've never been with a married woman before."
I smiled into his eyes, feeling added warmth at his words, and ran my fingers through his styled blond hair. "Now's your chance," I whispered, slipping my tongue inside his mouth, increasing our lust and desire.
Ben slid his hands over my body, keeping his touch firm and gentle as he explored every inch of me, especially my large, natural breasts. I arched my back, my groans growing louder as he sucked on my nipples with a skill that belied his age. I didn't become lost in the moment. I was in the moment. Naked with another man, a much younger man, except for my marital rings.
Jemma, the married mother of two was gone, her inhibitions forgotten and abandoned. It was just Jemma the hotwife now, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through her veins, to the pleasure that Ben was promising with his foreplay, as he kissed, licked and sucked me all over, before ending up with his head between my thighs.
There, he didn't match the skill of my husband, who'd been licking my pussy for twelve years, but boy, did Ben still know how to go down on a woman. He loved my patch of dark curls, a rarity, he said, amongst women his own age. I held his head in place and flicked my hips in orgasm, coating his handsome face in my juices and aroma.
We then moved around the bed, switching places. Kneeling between his thighs, I sucked his well-endowed length, another reason I find tall men attractive. They tend to be in proportion. Stroking from the base, sucking deep, fondling his balls, I showed him my experience, taking him to the brink.
When Ben finally entered me bare in the missionary position, it was with the tenderness of a gentle lover, which had me gasping. He was in awe of me, which was extremely intoxicating. He slid in and out of my body with slow, deep strokes until I climaxed again, something I rarely did at that pace. But every nerve ending was alive.
"Fuck me, Ben," I sighed a few moments after my orgasm had passed through me. I held his face and kissed him. "That was amazing, but now I need you to fuck me harder."
"Mmm," he moaned with a grin, sliding his arms under my legs and raising them in the air. "How hard do you want it?" he smirked.
"As hard as you can give it to me," I challenged him.
