A Hotwife Fantasy
David's career is just starting to take off when Andrea announces she wants to start a family.
During a work dinner David watches his boss make a pass at Andrea.
Andrea's eagerness to explore the boundaries of their marriage shocks David as much as it thrills him.
The couple plunge down a rabbit hole of lust and passion.
David grapples with his desire to see his wife with another man despite the risk that entails.
Will he surrender to his needs, even with the future of their family at stake?
To call my rise at Siren meteoric would have been
immodest but not inaccurate. It took all of three
months between being hired to having drinks with
Tom Pollack, founder and CEO, on his penthouse
balcony thirty stories above the city.
Andrea had been as incredulous as I was cocky
during the whole wild ride. I felt a certain
masculine pride at having made such an impression
and advanced so quickly. It was what good men did,
at least in my mind. Secure their success so that
they could start a family in comfort and provide
for their wives.
Call me old-fashioned but that’s the way I was
I still remember the smile Tom flashed me as our
glasses clinked. “You give damn good copy, David,”
he said before taking a deep breath of icy
mid-February air and downing half his scotch. “I’m
surprised you haven’t been snatched up sooner.”
“I’ve had a few offers before this,” I admitted,
indulging my pride. They’d been modest but Tom
didn’t know that. “I was really trying to wait for
the right one to come along.” I took a healthy
swig from my own glass.
Tom nodded. “Well we’re lucky to have you aboard,
David. Lucky to have you aboard.”
I wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. In
fact, I was still a little uncomfortable at having
been invited to their apartment in the first
Tom had started his ad agency, Siren, in the
nineties. He’d had a good enough team to make the
transition to digital and had done very nicely for
himself. So nicely that he rarely took an interest
in the day-to-day operations of the agency.
Which only doubled my vanity at the interest he’d
taken in me. I glanced over my shoulder and looked
inside at the elegantly furnished penthouse.
Andrea was standing with Tom’s wife, Bridgit,
martini glass raised in her slender hand, cheeks
slightly red from the effects of her second
cocktail. Even the somewhat plain and rather
conservative grey wool dress she was was wearing
outlined her pleasant curves in a very
I couldn’t help but smile at my good fortune. A
beautiful wife, a promising new job, hob-nobbing
with the boss on a frigid Saturday evening.
“She’s quite a woman.”
For a moment I wasn’t sure whether Tom was
referring to his wife or mine. It was only when he
flashed a knowing smile and nodded in Andrea’s
direction that I understood he was referring to
“Thank-you, sir,” I said, still a little ill at
ease at calling him by his first name.
“I told you, David, call me Tom. We’re friends
now. I plan on watching your career with great
I smiled. Tom was the sort of man you didn’t say
“no” to. Whether it was calling him by his first
name or anything else he might ask. He exuded the
confidence of a man who always knew what he wanted
and one who would do anything to get it. “Thanks,
Tom,” I muttered, feeling a little sheepish.
Tom smiled again.
Bridgit was no eye-sore either. Despite being in
her early fifties, she had the sort of body that
made men look twice. Full breasts, a pleasantly
protruding ass and toned calves which she made no
effort to hide even in this cold weather. She was
gesticulating with one hand which came to settle
on Andrea’s shoulder.
Andrea started chuckling, presumably at whatever
joke Bridgit had just made.
“Tell me, David,” Tom said, before slugging back
the second half of his drink. “Where do you see
yourself in five years?”
The question put me in a slightly awkward
position. The truth was that I had every intention
of starting my own ad agency. I’d done well in
school and every mentor I’d had said that I was
clever enough to have exactly the sort of career I
wanted. The only thing standing between me and the
vision of myself I’d dreamed up was my own
ambition and money. Because, contrary to popular
belief, you didn’t make it in this world without
having some money to get started with. Still, I
was a little reluctant to share this with Tom, not
wanting to sound too sure of myself.
“Come on, David. Don’t be shy. We’re friends,
remember?” he prodded.
“Well, Tom,” I began. I took another swig of my
drink. For courage and to brace myself against the
stiff winter breeze thirty stories up. “To be
perfectly honest I’d love to have my own agency