I was wrong.
‘The Hotwife Games’ was originally to contain a total of 10 chapters, but this last section ran so long that the series will in fact be 15 chapters long. These final chapters are complete, and I’ll release each in quick succession. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the kind e-mails and comments from patient readers.
The gist of it: This is a series about naughty wives and their husbands participating in a very kinky game-show. You can jump in right here if you like. Or, if you are new to the series and want the full experience, you can start with Chapter 1.
Content warning: Hotwifing, swinging, cuckolding, exhibitionism/voyeurism, all manner of kinky group sex, and experiments with form. Don’t say I didn’t warn you 🙂 Genuine feedback, constructive comments, lavish praise, and the inevitable furious trolling and crying from closet-cuck incels are all happily encouraged!
As always: This is a work of fantasy, designed for the dirty-minded…
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CHAPTER 10 – FLASH MEMORY
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Gerbera petals lay scattered across the dewy grass.
Gael stared out into the moonlit night. His lank, eighteen-year-old frame shook, but it wasn’t from the biting Arcana cold.
He saw the billowing steam of the Edgemont hot tub twist and whorl up into the night sky. He felt his heart thump angrily in his chest. And he watched his girlfriend Diana — a silhouette in the steamy haze — as she hoisted herself onto another man in the hot tub.
Gael felt rooted to the ground behind the darkened college dorms. His belly rose into his throat. He saw Diana’s friend, Brian, tear off her bikini top.
The young drama-school student had come to surprise his girlfriend with a weekend visit. Instead he’d ended up facing his own surprise. The worst surprise of all.
Diana was cheating on him.
It hit him cold, like a shotgun blast. So why did he keep watching?
Gael looked on from the shadows as Diana made out passionately with her “friend”. He watched as she rose up and let him take off her bikini bottoms. He watched as Brian stood and Diana took his cock in her mouth.
He watched them fuck.
And as Gael looked on, his eyes fixed on the girl he thought was the love of his life bouncing on another man’s dick… his own dick inexplicably hard, his palms clammy, raw bile bubbling up his esophagus…
Something was being born inside of him.
From the titillating horror of the moment, a carapace was beginning to grow. A dark, armored shell crystallized with each action of Diana’s infidelity. An icy, iron guard-rail flared up around Gael’s heart.
In that instant, the future Gael was born.
No matter what it cost, no matter how long it took, no matter what anyone could say to him or about him — in that moment, Gael made a pact with himself to rule supreme. He was going to level anything in his way, take on all comers, and take his place in history as king of his domain.
The radiant superstar. The ten-million-watt performing legend. The indefatigable, undefeatable, undeniable sovereign of the world’s greatest entertainment empire.
The man who would bed supermodels nightly, two and three at a time. The man who would give every woman he encountered the greatest orgasms of her life, bar none. The man famous for dating a triad of Hollywood’s hottest stars at the same time — together.
But… he would never let someone past all that heart-armor. Never, ever again…
Or so he thought.
And yes, he ruminated, as he watched Diana whorishly suck and fuck in the country moonlight… most of all… some day, in some way…
He would be the man who got his revenge.
—
Years later…
Diana’s husband, Rakesh, looked straight ahead. The Cessna seaplane was moving fast underneath him, rocketing over the dark waves of the middle Pacific as though mimetic of Rakesh’s own internal urgency.
He looked down. In his right hand, he clutched a single dollar bill.
One dollar. The sum total of all of his and Diana’s winnings at the Hotwife Games. After all they had been through, this was all that was left… and it was because of Rakesh.
The young husband had made his choice. He’d opted to give away virtually everything they had worked for at the contest — and, he realized with a guilty pang in the pit of his stomach, nearly all of that work had been Diana’s. All in the name of ensuring that he wouldn’t lose his wife’s love.
And yet, Rakesh had no idea what to actually expect when he deplaned at the island estate. He had just watched her on the Games’ surveillance screens, seconds from giving in to Gael’s sexual wiles.
He felt a silent terror about the prowess of those world-famous wiles… Was Rakesh going to lose his wife’s love?
—
Diana felt a flash-bomb of conflict detonate in her mind.
She was bent over the lip of Gael’s natural stone hot tub, her thong bikini bottoms held to one side. Behind her, she felt Gael’s masculine bulk inch closer towards her. She felt the heat of his giant, swollen member moving for her already sodden lips.
And a name flashed across her brain, in big, brazen red letters.
Rakesh.
Her husband…
“Wait,” Diana blurted.
Gael paused behind her.
She couldn’t do this… She’d made a promise. She had promised her husband that he could trust her. Yes, he had violated her own stipulations by using two of the Lifelines, but so what? He hadn’t, she reasoned, used the third. Right?
Diana had to stop things before they went any further. Before she risked losing her husband’s love.
“Wait,” she repeated, with more certainty in her voice. Diana twisted around. She looked up at her devastatingly handsome, naked ex-boyfriend.
“I can’t, Gael.”
A range of emotions flickered across his features. Confusion, disappointment, and then a furrow of concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Rakesh…” Diana said haltingly. “He kept my trust. He didn’t use the third Lifeline you told me about. He might have watched, but he didn’t visit us… I can’t break his trust in me.”
Gael breathed. Diana’s eyes briefly flickered down his ripped abs, to his massive member. She quickly looked back up, slowing her own heavy breathing.
“I love my husband,” Diana said simply. “I love him.”
—
The island sky was dark black when the limousine dropped Rakesh off at the gates of the Kama’sueh manor. Stars shimmered behind a veil of thin clouds.
Like Diana, the banker did a double-take at the outrageous opulence of Gael’s tropical estate. But his disbelief was short-lived, replaced quickly with troubling thoughts of his wife’s whereabouts.
He rushed down the long, torch-lined driveway, wrestling with speculations of what he’d encounter inside. Visions of his wife in flagrante with her ex-lover polluted his mind. He stressed and strategized about how he might stop them mid-action. He felt the sickening thought rise in his gullet again: What if, somehow, Diana had already fallen in love with her ex?
Rakesh barreled through the heavy front door. He scanned the prodigious living room, and saw no sight of them. His eyes finally landed on the distant French doors: they were cracked open.
He emerged onto the moonlit gardens, nearly out of breath. He rapidly eyeballed the width of the lush yard, looking for any sign of a hot tub. That was where he’d last seen his wife on the monitors.
Rakesh quickly found the rock-carved tub. He moved for it. Steam billowed up from its surface. Bubbles crackled to the surface, but their stream was slowly dying out. The jets had recently been turned off.
There was no sign of his wife, or of Gael.
Rakesh whirled around, lost. Where the hell were the two?
His eyes fell downward. Splashes of water dotted the stone walkway leading off from the hot tub. Amongst the small, scattershot pools, he perceived four distinct shapes that kept repeating.
Footprints.
Two pairs of prints led up the stone path. Rakesh followed. The steps wended towards a separate wing of the large estate. With a thumping pulse, Rakesh hurriedly made his way across the path.
They’ve gone inside, he thought with a sinking belly. They’re right in the middle of fucking…
Rakesh threw open the wooden door to the east wing.
“Diana!” he called out.
Then he stopped in his tracks.
—
Instead of an anteroom, the East wing opened into a capacious game room.
Original posters for classic European films draped the walls in gleaming frames. A blue-felt billiards table sat under a lit brass overhang. Along one wall, tropical plants flanked a line of perfectly restored vintage arcade games. A dull, romantic glow lit the jasmine-scented room.
There was a seating area at the center of the room. On a plush, padded couch, Gael was sitting with Diana.
They were far from being in the midst of heated congress. Both were clothed: Gael in a loose white linen shirt and island joggers, Diana in small cutoff jean shorts and a knotted button-down. It was a shirt Rakesh hadn’t seen before.
The two weren’t in each other’s arms. Gael sat forward, concern and conflict in his eyes. Diana had her face buried in her palms.
When the door swung open, the two looked over with a start.
Seconds ticked by. Nobody spoke. With a jolt, Rakesh perceived that Diana’s cheeks were slick; she had been crying.
It was her who finally pierced the silence.
“You used the last Lifeline.”
Rakesh paused, wavering. He nodded.
“And,” she ventured. “We’re leaving with nothing…”
Rakesh looked steadily at her across the large room. She was right; what could he say? He had given away the entirety of their winnings — save for one dollars — so that he could be here, now. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She wiped her tears. “Fine,” she said.
Diana shot a glance at Gael, then looked squarely back at her husband.
“I need to be honest with you, Rakesh.”
Rakesh stepped across the sizable room, moving closer to his wife and her ex-boyfriend.
“I… almost fucked Gael. You probably saw, spying on us on the video feed.”
The young banker stopped on the carpet across from the couch. He’d detected the razored tone of her accusation.
“Nothing happened,” Diana went on. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t break your trust in me.”