Free Hotwife Hotel: A Wifewatching Romance by Jason Lenov

thoughts.
    Finally, as I made another advance while she was making lunch, I pushed her to her limit and caused her to explode.
    "John, stop it! You've been walking around pouting for the last three days then trying to get me to crawl into bed with you! I hate that!"
    She was right. But it hurt to hear it spoken nonetheless.
    "Well you haven't exactly been friendly either!" I countered, trying to split the blame for my moodiness down the middle.
    "Because you've been in a mood this whole time!" she said, waving her arms to indicate the vast expanse of my depression. "What is going on?!?"
    What was going on? I knew more or less what was going on, or at least what was causing me to act the way I was. I wasn't sure if I was ready for her to know it, too.
    "Rebecca..." I began. My mouth stayed open but no words came out. How to start?
    I could see that she was searching my expression, the same way I would search her eyes to see what I could find there. Something about the way she looked right then, how concerned she was, made me want to come clean.
    "I've been having...thoughts."
    Whatever. It was a start.
    She graciously softened her expression and shook her head. "Thoughts about what?"
    I took a deep breath. Where to start? "You remember when we met?" I asked, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.
    "Of course I remember when we met," she offered, but softly. Like she didn't want a fight any more than I did.
    "You remember what you said to me?"
    She blushed. She blushed! Rebecca didn't blush!
    "John, that was a long time ago..." I watched her eyes follow her mind into the past.
    "It wasn't
that
long ago." I felt better now. Her blush had somehow made me feel better. Like I had a little bit of control over myself again. "You said you saw me watching you."
    She turned her eyes down in shame. Most likely at what had happened after she said it than at the fact she'd said it at all.
    I faltered for a second, worried that she wouldn't reciprocate my honesty. But having come this far gave me courage, and I didn't want to stop.
    "Okay look, maybe it's just me, but..."
    She looked up and her eyes were big and curious, almost looking nervous at what I was about to say.
    "...it felt like things were...different lately?"
    Her face didn't relax completely. Cautiously curious.
    "What do you mean?"
    For fuck's sake. Why did I have to be the one that said it?
    "Didn't you think that sex was kind of...hotter the last few times? Maybe?"
    I watched her soften at the memory and it filled me with relief.
    "I guess. So?"
    Really? She was going to make me spell it out?
    "Did that have anything to do with..." I cleared my throat. This part could go either way. "Andre?"
    "Andre?!?" she asked, looking at me like I'd just killed a cute, small, furry animal with my bare hands. This was making me want to give up.
    "I just thought that..."
    "Why would you say that?!? About Andre?!?" There was shock there now, and what else? Fear?
    "Okay Rebecca. Fine. Let's pretend neither of us felt anything different and that none of this ever happened." I turned around and started to walk away because I wasn't going to be the one solely responsible for fucking everything up.
    "Wait." Her voice sounded like she was ready for us to fuck it up together. "I have to tell you something."
    Oh fuck. The way she said it, the...was it regret that made it sound the way it did? Whatever it was it made me cold all of a sudden and stuck to the floor, not daring to turn around and see the face that went with that sound. I did, finally. I turned around to see her small and humble and penitent. Oh fuck no.
    "Okay," I managed even though my throat was tight.
    She looked up and it looked like she might cry and half of me wanted to hug her and the other half...I don't know what that other half was doing but it was turning my stomach upside down and inside out, just watching her there. "Is this bad?" I added, my voice barely a whisper.
    Her tiny nod, that restrained admission of her guilt