The Tenant: A Very Naughty Hotwife Novel (6 page)

Stop it.

Deadline.

I had entered a few lines of code after an hour, and chances were it was inelegant and barely functioning. I had looked at my phone thirty times, I suppose hoping that Anna would call me, text me, anything – even though she never did that during the day.

I was going crazy.

I spent part of my time thinking about the time before were were married, when Anna liked to play her games. Flirting with other men, and then ditching them before anything went too far. Some of my time remembering the hot feel of her cunt as we both (I hoped) fantasized about her fucking John. Pleasure snaked through me as I savored the thought that maybe she was as serious as I was in her fantasizing.

But most of my time, I dedicated to imagining her with him. Rolling, climbing, stretching into absurd positions, kneeling and opening her mouth. Her skin wet and pale with gallons and gallons of his cum, her eyelashes sticking together, her tongue licking at her lips, John's cock spreading her open.

I tried to rein in my thoughts. I was getting next to no work done. I was spacing out without even realizing it, staring at the screen.

The thing was, Anna had never taken her games to the point where she had actually done anything with another man, besides kiss, maybe grope a little.

The question was: did she want to?

Had she ever wanted to?

Did I really want her to? Or were these things better left to the imagination? The imagination that was now consuming me, now making it impossible for me to work? The imagination that was sending me to the internet looking for porn that would satisfy my desire, but ultimately did not because...

In the end what I wanted was to see Anna in those videos.

In the end what I wanted was to watch Anna with another man.

7
: THE HOLE

A few week
s
went by like this, and I got way behind on work. I didn't even see John that often, and if I did, it was only briefly, as he walked into his apartment from his car. As far as I could tell, he and Anna didn't run into each other the whole time.

It didn't stop me from obsessing about Anna and John. I was obsessing to the point it almost seemed unhealthy. I even went downtown by Anna's work one afternoon, like a private investigator, to watch her come and go from her work. She never did either, and the afternoon was wasted. I had spent it all on a park bench, with a Subway sandwich in my hand that I never took more than bite out of. I must have looked like a crazy person.

I
was
a crazy person.

And even as I sat there, waiting for Anna to swing out of the glass doors – what in the hell did I think I was going to do? Was I going to chase after her? Surprise her? She could be going for a coffee, for christsakes.

But no, I thought, and I wasn't sure if it was a delicious or a sour thought. She
could
be going to meet him.

And would I stop her?

That was the real question.

Would I stop her or would I follow her, and watch from behind a corner as they entwined their hands, and the wind blew her hair from her face so she could lean in and kiss him? Would I follow them to a hotel, and sneak around, stealing a bellhop uniform and putting a key-card in the door at the exact right moment like a spy? Would I creep into their room and watch John's hands peeling the clothes from my wife, until all that remained was red, lacy lingerie, purchased just for him, covering her hips and her pussy, her breasts spilling from the bra...

All day long, I thought like this. For weeks.

And then one night, we ventured into our side of the basement. I couldn't remember why. A fuse? A question about the water heater? I had been reading a magazine before something Anna told me to do had prompted us both to go down there. I had read the line:
anticipated increase in mor-
thousands of times, all the while thinking of Anna's lips against John's cock.

Or, it didn't have to be John, necessarily. Sometimes I imagined that Anna was off with all kinds of men, or maybe many men at once.

What in the fuck,
I wondered, my eyes passing over
a-n-t-i-p-a-t-e-d
again, slowly, like my own anticipation.
What in the fuck are you doing?

I was just thinking.

But I was thinking until I had a serious problem, until it was becoming an obsession. It was interfering with my work. It was interfering with our relationship. Anna had already tousled my hair and kissed me on the cheek the way she did when she had been talking to me about something important and I had spaced out. “Don't worry, sweetie,” she had said. “They're only like $2200.”

This was the line that was supposed to get me to say: “What?!”

And then she would say, “The boots. The boots you just said I could buy, no problem.”

Instead I had stared into space, where I saw her legs spread before me, gushing with white cum from an orgy of men.

So somehow, I had ended up in the basement. Anna seemed to be looking for something. I had next to no idea why I was there.

That's when we heard it.

The moan of a woman reverberated through the wall. I paused, my ears perked up in interest.

“Oh no,” Anna said, in a low voice, and covered her mouth. We both remembered the last time John had brought a woman home.

I froze. I almost felt like I was getting caught spying.

Anna stopped, her hand over her mouth to hide her smile. She waved her other hand at me.
Find it quick,
her hand was saying,
and let's get out of here!

I moved as stealthily as I could, but we had pushed almost everything we didn't want to see or deal with into this room, and it was an avalanche of discarded pots and pans, clothing, books, papers, and various other items, waiting to happen. I stopped a slide just in time but had to throw my weight against it awkwardly and there seemed to be no way to extract myself. I had no idea what she wanted me to do or look for, anyway.

In the meantime, John's low voice purred from the other side of the wall. He was smooth-talking his lady-friend, and though his voice was too low to hear what he was saying exactly, it was sexy as hell just hearing the intonation.

I heard a gasp, and a high-pitched
ooohhh!

I pressed myself against the quickly-mounting mudslide of papers and books, and looked at Anna helplessly. She was no longer laughing, but was looking at the wall as though she could see through it. She was deep in thought, and a shiver of excitement went through me, straight from my heart to my crotch.

She was definitely thinking about John, next door, and where his hands were. What he was doing that was eliciting such gasps from the woman with him.

“Anna,” I whispered sharply.

Her eyes drifted to me, and she stared emptily at me for a few seconds. Then, like shaking off sleep in the morning, she jumped to help me.

Next door the moans had become more serious, more intense.

Anna pushed on some of the papers so I could twist around.

That's when the banging started.

Almost like a scene from a movie, our renter John began to slam into his partner hard. The wall echoed with a loud bang, bang, bang, as the headboard slammed against the wall. Each bang was punctuated by a throaty gasp from the woman who was taking his huge cock deep inside of her.

Anna was smiling, and her mouth was open in partial disbelief.

Then the woman really started shrieking, as the pounding intensified. Plaster began to shake loose from the unfinished ceiling.

Anna covered her mouth again, smothering an amazed laugh. Her eyes widened as she watched the plaster raining down on the piles of clothing and books.

And then, right in front of us, a small chunk of plaster caved forward onto the pile, from where the pipes entered the room.

I could see that a hole had just been formed in the wall.

Ludicrous as it may have seemed, we now had a peephole right into our neighbor's bedroom.

Anna reached out, without moving her feet at all, and shut off the light. Her mouth was open in disbelief, as was mine.

It was embarrassing as hell. I couldn't believe the timing.

As our eyes got used to the dimness, we looked at each other.

The woman was still moaning. It was an intensely erotic sound, like nothing I had ever heard before. I could see on Anna's face that she was utterly curious.

And the hole was right there.

We looked at each other for a moment, and then she shrugged.

She leaned forward, and she looked in.

I watched her face as it contorted into the strangest expression. I had no idea what she was looking at, just that it seemed to travel beneath her skin and flush her face, make her breathe more quickly, make her hum with the energy of an excited woman.

My cock was already hard, from listening to the ecstatic mewling of the woman. But now it began to pulse with an almost painful desire. I watched my wife and imagined what she might be looking at that held her attention that way, riveted, disappearing into whatever she saw on the other side of the wall.

Could she see John? Was she looking at his cock, and was it enormous? Was she savoring the full view of his sculpted body, his ebony skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his purple cock erect in front of him, wet with another woman's juices? Was she wished she could reach out and hold in it her hand?

Or was she looking at what John was doing? Was he moving his tongue over the clit of his partner with such expertise that she couldn't contain herself, and was Anna watching, longing to feel him do the same to her?

Was the heat that flushed her face traveling down between her legs, melting through her skin as a liquid honey? Her eyes were getting wider and wider, her lips were parted. I was enjoying the sight of her, watching another man, fantasizing about him. I was going to enjoy sinking my fingers into the flesh of her pussy and finding it sopping wet with her desire for John. She wouldn’t be able to deny it.

She brought her hand to her lips and kept watching. She had evidently forgotten I was there. The screaming was escalating now, and the pounding had started up again. The headboard was now smacking against the wall again, at an alarming pace. The woman was screaming obscenities now, and I could barely hear John's growling beneath her high-pitched screams.

My cock was throbbing now. Anna seemed to have been so completely absorbed in the scene that she didn't even look over at me with embarrassment or apology. She was just hungry to keep watching whatever it was that she saw.

The couple on the other side of the wall reached a loud, animal-sounding climax, and the pounding ceased. But Anna did not tear herself away from the wall. She kept looking. I could hear someone moving around, and the low rumble of John's voice.

Was he standing up, showing his full body, glistening with sweat? Anna couldn't stop looking, and in her mind she was thinking about him.

Finally, she leaned back, and the spell was broken as she blinked. She turned to me.

Wow,
she mouthed.

Then she jerked her head to indicate that we should go back upstairs.

I followed her, dizzy and lightheaded. Blood was rushing everywhere in my body except to my head. My cock was as hard as when we had started dating, as when I was a teenager.

We had been married for five years, and I was hot for Anna all the time. Who wouldn't be? But the thrilling excitement of the beginning of our marriage had faded a little. We went upstairs and brushed our teeth, for example, instead of fucking against a wall in a parking garage.

Now, though,I was so overcome by watching her, watching John, that I didn't want to give her the chance to make me wait all the way to the top of the stairs. I skipped up the last steps, and caught up to her on the landing of the first floor. I pushed her into the living room and grasped both of her arms, pinning her up against the wall.

Anna was as ready for this kind of romp as I was. Her mouth was already open when my lips met hers, and we kissed violently. She bit lightly into my lower lip. Her body rose and meshed against mine; I could feel her hardened nipples through the fabrics of our shirts, pebbles on a plump cushion.

I dropped her hands and put my hands on her neck, squeezing her lightly. It was a boundary we had often played with before, but had long-abandoned. I squeezed until her eyes watered lightly, and she bit my lip again. Her hands moved down to my belt buckle and began to take my pants off.

I pulled away from her mouth, and looked her in the eyes. She met my gaze challenging me. She was panting lightly.

“You sure liked watching John and his girlfriend,” I whispered. 

She bit her own lip now, seductively, and unbuttoned my pants. She was teasing me now, her eyes full of mischief. “So what if I did?”

My pants dropped to the floor, and I felt her palm along the length of my shaft. Her eyebrows raised. “Evidently
you
enjoyed watching
me,
” she said.

She grasped my cock, and squeezed tighter than I remembered her ever having done. She gritted her teeth, almost in an expression of anger. “Would you like to know what I saw?”

I pushed her back against the wall, and squeezed lightly against her throat. I saw the corner of her mouth turn up in a smile. It felt so good to be passionate with Anna again, to be doing something different, something bordering on the unknown. I liked it when I wasn't sure of her reactions, when I didn't know if she was angry or filled with lust. “I want to know,” I said, “what you
liked
about what you saw.”

She leaned her head forward, and placed her mouth close to my ear. “I liked the way John fucked his girlfriend like she was a three-dollar whore.”

Anna had a filthy mouth. She hadn't used it lately, and hearing it now, soft and sultry, promising much more filth to come, I almost had to support myself against the wall. I pushed my hand between her pants and underwear, and her skin. I wasted no time being gentle, because it was clear that Anna wanted to imagine
herself
getting fucked like a three-dollar whore.

My fingers found her neat, feathery pubic hair, and then the sopping wet folds of her pussy.

“You really did like that, didn't you?”

She nodded, and her eyes narrowed like a cat's as I slid my finger over her hard, silky clit. Anna had a big clit, and it was easy to find and sent her to shuddering in almost no time. I stroked it now, pleased to find it harder and more engorged than ever before.

“Would you like John to fuck you like a three-dollar whore?”

I pushed my fingers inside of her, and she pressed herself against me and shifted her weight to give me easy access. She mewled instead of answering, but the assent was evidence in her smile. I pushed deeper, and I went for it: