Hotwife Phones Husband While Being Fucked

The Grand Meridian bar was all dark wood and low amber light, the kind of place where a woman could sit with another man's hand on her thigh and nobody would interrupt. Simone, twenty-eight, crossed the room in a black dress that hugged her ass and left her legs bare, heels clicking, pulse already high. She had kissed her husband goodbye an hour ago. Trent was thirty, and he was home in their apartment with his phone face-up on the couch, waiting for the text they had planned together. This was not a secret. This was the date.

Mateo stood when he saw her. Thirty-two, broad-shouldered, dark hair, a charcoal suit cut close over his chest. He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, and the heat of it went straight to her cunt. "You wore that for me," he said.

"I wore it for both of you," Simone said. "He picked it. He wants you looking."

They took a corner booth. He ordered whiskey. She ordered one glass of red and drank it slowly, clear-headed, tasting him more than the wine when he leaned in. His knee pressed hers. His palm slid up the inside of her thigh, warm and unhurried, until his fingertips rested against the lace of her panties. She was already wet. She let him feel it. A quiet sound left her throat, and he smiled like he had been waiting for that exact noise.

They flirted until the room felt too small. She told him what Trent had asked for—every thrust described, every filthy sound, the call left open until she was used. Mateo's thumb stroked her through the lace, slow circles, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning in the bar. Her hand found the thick ridge of his cock through his pants and squeezed. He was hard. She liked the weight of him under her palm.

Simone pulled out her phone.

Taking him up to the suite now. I'll call the second things get physical. Don't hang up. I want you hearing all of it.

Trent answered before she could lock the screen. Good. I'm stroking my cock already. Tell me when he bends you over.

She showed Mateo the message. His eyes went dark. He paid the check, stood, and offered his hand. In the elevator he pulled her back against him, one palm covering her breast, the other gripping her ass, his mouth at her ear promising he would fuck her until her husband could hear it through the phone. She ground back against his cock and smiled. The suite door was three floors away, and her skin was already burning.

Inside, the city glittered past the glass and the bed waited, wide and white. Simone barely got the door shut before Mateo had her against it. His mouth crashed into hers, and she kissed him back hard, tongue sliding against his, moaning into it because she wanted every second. His hands roamed over her ribs, up to her breasts, thumbs dragging across her nipples through the dress until they peaked. She grabbed his belt and yanked him closer. The hard length of his cock pressed into her stomach, thick even through his pants.

"Get this off me," she said.

He unzipped her. The dress slid down and pooled at her heels. She stepped out of it in black lace—bra, panties, garter belt, stockings—and his eyes went hungry. She unhooked the bra and let her tits spill free, full and tight-nippled. He filled his hands with them, bent, and sucked one into his mouth while his other hand shoved into her panties and found her soaked. Two fingers pushed into her cunt. She gasped and rocked onto them, clenching.

"Dripping," he said against her nipple. "You've been ready since the booth."

"Get naked. I want that cock out."

He stripped without teasing. Jacket, shirt, belt, pants, briefs. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, flushed dark, a bead of precum shining at the slit. Simone wrapped her fist around it and stroked, feeling the heat, the veins, the way it jumped. He walked her backward until her knees hit the mattress. That fat cock pressed against her bare thigh, smearing wetness on her skin, and mutual hunger surged so hard she almost forgot the phone. Almost.

She stroked him slower, thumb smearing the precum over the swollen head, and Mateo groaned into her mouth when he kissed her again, deep and filthy, one hand in her hair. His other hand roamed—palming her ass, snapping a garter strap against her thigh, sliding between her legs to rub her clit through soaked lace until her knees threatened to buckle. She ground against his fingers and against that thick cock pressed to her bare thigh, panting into the kiss, chasing the friction. The want between them surged, mutual and greedy, her cunt aching to be filled, his cock throbbing in her fist. She wanted him inside her. He wanted to bend her over and wreck her while her husband listened. She was shaking when she finally tore her mouth from his.

"He told me to call the second you had me," she said, breathless. "Speaker. He wants all of it."

She snatched the phone from the console, thumb on Trent's name. Mateo turned her, bent her over the edge of the bed, and yanked her panties to the side. Cool air hit her wet pussy. His cock slid between her ass cheeks, then lower, the broad head nudging her entrance, not quite inside. She hit call and tapped speaker. The ring filled the suite. Trent picked up on the second tone, breath already ragged.

"Simone."

"I'm here," she said, braced on her elbows, ass tipped up, Mateo's cock pressed right against her married hole. "He's got me bent over the bed. Speaker's on. He's about to fuck me. Don't hang up."

Mateo spread her with one hand, holding her open for the phone, the thick head of his cock kissing her cunt.

"Oh—fuck—" she gasped into the phone. "Trent, he's in. Just the head. He's so thick. I can feel my pussy fighting to take him."

Mateo gripped her hips and drove deeper, one long, powerful stroke that seated him to the root. Simone cried out, fingers clawing the sheets, the phone inches from her mouth. He held there, buried, letting her flutter and squeeze around the sudden fullness, then pulled back until only the head remained and slammed in again. The slap of his hips against her ass cracked through the room.

"Talk," Mateo said, voice low, fucking her in deep, steady strokes that shoved her up the mattress. "Tell him."

"He's fucking me," Simone moaned, words breaking. "From behind. God, Trent, his cock is huge. Every stroke hits so deep I can feel it in my stomach. He's stretching me open. My pussy is gripping him. I can hear how wet I am. Listen."

Mateo thrust harder, and the filthy sound of her cunt taking him filled the speaker. She described the drag of his thick shaft, the way her lips clung, the brutal push back in that knocked a moan out of her every time. His balls swung against her clit. His fingers bruised her hips, and she told Trent that Mateo was holding her like a toy and using her married pussy in long, punishing strokes.

"Faster," she begged, and Mateo gave it to her. The rhythm turned rough. The bed frame knocked the wall. Her tits swayed, nipples scraping the sheets, and she kept talking through it, filthy and desperate.

"He's pounding me now. Deep. Hard. I can't think. My cunt is so full. He's splitting me on that thick cock. Trent, are you stroking? I want you coming to this. I want you hearing your wife get railed."

"I'm here," Trent said, strained, the wet sound of his fist clear on the line. "Don't stop talking. Tell me how he feels inside you."

"Hot," she sobbed. "Thick. Bigger than I'm used to. He's rearranging me. Every time he bottoms out I see white. My pussy is clenching on him like it doesn't want to let go. I'm dripping down my thighs. He's so deep it knocks the air out of me."

Mateo reached under her and rubbed her clit in tight circles while he fucked her, and her voice cracked into a wail. She told Trent about the fingers on her clit. Then he pulled out. She whimpered at the emptiness, hole clenching around nothing, and he flipped her onto her back before she could catch her breath. He shoved her legs wide, knees toward her shoulders, and looked down at her swollen, glistening pussy.

"Tell him," Mateo said.

"He's flipping me," Simone panted into the phone, holding it near her mouth with a shaking hand. "On my back. Legs spread so wide I can't close them. He's looking right at my cunt. It's open from him, Trent. He's lining that cock up again. Missionary. He's going to pound me like this so I can watch every inch disappear."

Mateo sank back in with one savage thrust. Simone's back arched off the bed. The angle was different, deeper, the head of his cock grinding a spot that made her toes curl in her stockings. He braced a hand beside her head and fucked her hard, hips snapping, the wet slap of their bodies loud enough that Trent had to hear every stroke. Her legs stayed spread wide. Her heels dug into the mattress. She stared down between them at the thick shaft plunging into her.

"I can see it," she cried. "Trent, I can see his cock stretching my married pussy. It's so fat. My lips are pulled tight around him. Every thrust shoves him all the way in and smashes my clit. He feels so good. He feels better than I can stand. I'm going to come on him. I'm going to come all over this cock while you listen."

"Do it," Trent groaned. "Come on his cock. Let me hear my wife lose it."

Mateo fucked her faster, relentless, the bed shaking under them, his balls slapping her ass with every deep stroke. Simone's voice broke into raw cries. She told Trent she was close. She told him she couldn't form words, only sounds. The orgasm hit like a wave breaking over her. She came hard around him, cunt clamping down in rhythmic spasms, a broken scream tearing out of her and straight into the phone. Her thighs shook. Her vision blurred. She gushed around his shaft, soaking them both, and she forced the words out anyway, wrecked and honest and loud.

"I'm coming," she cried. "Trent, I'm coming on his cock. Oh fuck, it's so good. He's still fucking me through it. He won't stop. My pussy won't stop squeezing him. I can feel every inch. He's stretching me while I come."

Mateo didn't slow. He kept thrusting through the clench, deep and powerful, chasing his own end while she shuddered and cried under him. The oversensitive drag made her sob with pleasure. She grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper, heels locked behind his thighs, taking every inch.

"He's not done," she gasped. "He's still pounding me. God, he's using my cunt. I'm so sensitive I can feel every vein on his cock. He's going to come in me. Trent, he's going to fill your wife up. Do you want that? Do you want his load in my pussy?"

"Yes," Trent said, voice cracking. "Take it. Take all of it. Tell me when he comes inside you."

Mateo groaned, rhythm breaking, and drove in to the hilt. Simone felt him swell, felt the first hot pulse, and she moaned loud into the phone as he flooded her. Spurt after spurt, he kept thrusting, fucking his cum deeper. She told him how the heat spread, how her pussy milked him. The obscene wet sound when he pushed in and more of it leaked out around his shaft onto the sheets carried straight through the speaker.

"He's coming," she cried. "He's filling me. So much. I can feel it pumping into me. Trent, his cum is so hot. He's still moving. He's fucking it into me. My married pussy is stuffed with his cock and his load."

Mateo buried himself one last time and held, panting, emptying the rest of it deep while she lay under him with her legs spread wide, trembling, the phone pressed to her cheek.

When Mateo finally eased back, his cock slipped free with a wet, filthy gush. Cum leaked from her well-fucked pussy and slid down over her ass. Panting, she spread herself with two fingers and held the phone close so Trent could hear the slick sound of it.

"Thank you," she said, voice hoarse, "for letting me get properly fucked. He ruined me. I'm leaking his load all over this bed."

"You sound perfect," Trent answered, rough and aroused, fist still wet. "I blew my load listening to him rail you. When you get home I want every filthy detail—how deep, how loud, how much cum he pumped into that pussy."

Mateo kissed the side of her neck, mouth hot and open, teeth grazing sweat-slick skin, one heavy hand spread on her trembling thigh. Simone smiled, satisfied, still open and dripping.

"I will," she promised. "Every stroke. How deep he was. How hard I came. How full he left your wife's cunt." She ended the call with that smile still on her mouth.

A thick rope of his cum slid out of her gaping pussy and ran down her ass while she held her cunt open, dripping another man's load.