A True Hotwifing Story: The Marathon [FM]

**Disclaimer: All names and identifying factors have been changed to protect my stallions.*

“I want to see you again”

“You JUST saw me!” I texted back, grinning to myself as I lay in bed, remembering the way Armando had stood there the night of my birthday, hand out, cocky-ass grin set. Damn him. I shifted a little beneath the covers as my panties dampened with the thought.

“Again,” Armando begged.

Ugh. I wanted to see him too. I wanted to feel him, touch him, taste him. A few moments later, I was out the bedroom door and padding across the house to the office space where my husband was working.

“Honey,” I gnawed at my lip and adopted my best flirty, pouty look. “Can I pleeeeease go see my boyfriend this weekend?”

He laughed. I giggled. We marked the calendar.

The day came and I packed my best sleep button-down and a few lingerie options. By this time, I’d figured Armando out and didn’t place too much expectation on timing. As long as he showed, I’d be fine. But then he went and surprised me. Only a few minutes after our agreed upon time, I heard the knock at my door. Holy fuck it was a miracle. Immediately, there came that drop in my stomach at the thought of what was about to happen. He and I in the room together. No club events. No other commitments. No plans. This was just going to be us, he promised.

I felt nervous, excited, instantly aroused. Because this was it. An entire night alone with my stallion.

I opened the door.

Something to say about Armando. The guy was a fucking stud. I love my husband and nobody, not even Armando, would ever compare. But picture, if you will, a man with absolute assurance in himself. It’s a fine line between arrogance and the kind of inherent confidence Armando exuded. Genuine. Kind. Sweet. Playful. And all that wrapped up in the face of a fucking Latin model. Smokey eyes and pouty lips and a thick beard. The works.

No doubt. I had fallen head over heels in unabashed lust with this man.

And there he stood with that half-smirk that sent my knees wobbling. With an old, familiar item in-hand.

“My clip!”

He had gone back for the clip I’d forgotten at the performing arts center (view my prior posts to read that story). The sudden rush of feelings at the remembrance and thought of his thoughtfulness had my heart racing and my body reacting. I ached for him. We kissed at the door and managed to move things to the living area.

I think we tried to converse a bit. You know, play it nonchalant with some pleasantries. Yeah that lasted all of maybe a couple minutes before I was straddling him on the bed, arms right about his neck, grinding down into his crotch as our tongues worked. He was already hard. Strange how it had only been a few days since I’d had that thick cock inside of me but I needed it like it was the first time. My moans against his lips communicated as much.

We began tearing at our clothes. There was some awkward fumbling with his belt buckle that had us laughing through kisses. Eventually though we were naked and pressed, side-by-side, together. The intensity rose. He responded to the subconscious cues for more by lifting my legs over his shoulders, a familiar move and a position he apparently had come to favor. I knew what was next. I braced for it. No use. Armando slid into me so deep, I cried out. He loved my sounds so there was no muffling me that evening. He fucked me hard and fast and I let him know exactly how much I wanted it.

When he came and my moans died back to satisfied hums in his arms, we did what friends do and laughed some more and joked and caught up. His job situation was still up in the air. He was set to leave any day. So I listened as Armando struggled with the idea of being away from his family. I held him and kissed him through the uncertainty of things. And I offered advice where I could.

That was what was so special about us, this, our arrangement or relationship or whatever it was. We were friends, first. We trusted one another and enjoyed one another outside the physical. Which only made the sex all the more incredible.

Eventually, the TV went on and we half-watched whatever was on. I lay with my leg across him, head on his shoulder at just the right angle to catch his lips whenever he turned to talk. And of course I had free roam of his chest and lower half. We would chat and then quiet down to watch something, my fingers playing absently through his chest hair and then down to his dick to tease the head a little and then back up. And whenever I wanted more, all it took was a subtle arc of the hips, a rub of my wet pussy against his upper thigh to signal it was time again.

We’ve established in past posts that Armando knew his way around a clit. And that night he must have built my orgasm at least a dozen times until I was too tender for more. And then it would be my turn. Some of my favorite moments were sliding down his body to take his cock in my mouth as he tried to focus on the screen. I would watch his eyes glaze over, his chest quicken with breath. I’d taste the now familiar release of pre-cum. And then Armando would get competitive and flip things (and sometimes me) and fuck my pussy to completion.

Time and again until it was nearly four in the morning and we lay panting in each other’s arms.

“I need to leave.”

I pouted at the statement, handling his cock, coaxing it for one more round.

He laughed at this.

“I can’t. It kinda hurts inside.”

“Awwww…did I break you?”

And then we eased into the sweet kisses I’d come to enjoy so much as we taunted one another to fall asleep. I think we both dozed. Maybe ten minutes or so before he rose and worked diligently to collect himself. His shirt and then his pants. I wasn’t much of a help, admittedly. There was a point he stood, talking about the upcoming day. I smiled and nodded and undid his belt and pants with the stealth of a street magician. That, or Armando was just reeeally tired and unaware. He had no idea until he felt the pants sliding down his legs.

“What the-“

I giggled. And yes I would have taken him again, right there, however he wanted. But alas I had run my poor stallion near-to-death. After a few steps out of reach, he mocked me by fixing up his pants again.

Armando motioned for me to follow him to the door. Morning had come and outside people were bustling out of their rooms. We kissed for one last, long, lingering moment right there in the doorway. He slipped a hand into my shirt, the only thing I had on, to cup a breast and then nodded to himself.

“Mine,” he declared with a grin. That was fine. Armando could have my breasts and my ass and my lips and my pussy while he could. My husband had all of me forever. I kissed my stallion goodbye and then went to have a nice long coma before check-out.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/aj8zd5/a_true_hotwifing_story_the_marathon_fm