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Spare Room Hotwife: Rough Builder Mate Remodels the Wife
Paperback
Series: Hotwife Tales
Currently unavailable to order
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Publisher: Independently Published
Pages: 92
Weight: 0.21
Height: 0.24 Width: 5.25 Depth: 8.00
Language: English
I'm Spence, and for four weeks I've been paying a mate from the pub to slowly, unknowingly, wreck my marriage in the best possible way.
His name's Kev. Camden lad, forearms like scaffolding poles, does beautiful work with his hands, and I mean that in every sense I'm about to admit to. He's been in our flat three days a week, sorting the spare room, calling my wife love in that flat, unbothered Camden accent, and somewhere around week two I noticed something was different about Lexie. She started dressing a bit nicer on the days he was in. Laughed a bit longer at things he said. Blushed at a word she'd have ignored from anyone else. My wife, who orders her wine by grape variety and says actually when she's nervous, was going soft in the knees over a bloke in paint-flecked jeans, and God help me, I couldn't stop thinking about it either.
Here's the bit I've never said out loud before. I've been lying awake most nights lately, not worried, not jealous, just unbearably, stupidly turned on by the idea of watching. Watching him put those hands on her. Watching her poshness crack. I mentioned it to her, carefully, half-joking, the way you test water with your toe before you jump in. She didn't laugh it off. She went very quiet and very red and didn't say no, and that silence has been doing things to me all week that I'm not proud of and also entirely unwilling to stop.
So here's where we are. Kev's coming back Saturday to finish the bathroom tiling. There's pizza planned, beer in the fridge, Arsenal on later, all completely normal. Except it isn't, is it, because I've seen the way she looks at him on the stepladder, and I think, if I'm honest, if I'm brave enough to actually let this happen, tonight might be the night my quiet, polished, perfectly-behaved wife finally lets herself be exactly as filthy as I've always suspected she wanted to be.
I don't know exactly what's going to happen yet. I know what I'm hoping for. If you're the kind of reader who likes your hotwife stories with proper heart underneath the heat, a stag and vixen who genuinely adore each other, a rough-handed bull who knows precisely what he's doing, and a Kentish Town flat that's about to get a lot more thoroughly renovated than the bathroom, you're going to want to be in the room on Saturday night. I certainly am.
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