She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story) (4 page)

She moaned at the feel of my hardness pressing against her behind, and tilted her head back against my shoulder, turning to kiss my mouth.

Her kiss was so sweet, and so tender, and yet after a moment or two, became so much more forceful than she’d been in a while. One of my hands drifted down over her velvet skin, past her flat stomach, adoring the figure she worked so hard to maintain, and slipped under the waistband of her panties.

Her underwear was so wet, it couldn’t have been just from my touch, from our kiss. She might have been nervous, horrified, embarrassed, but my Hayley had been turned on stripping for Aaron Simpson and his fellow producers, and she’d been in a state of arousal ever since. My fingers glided over the soft little patch of fur covering her mound, finding it saturated.

And when my fingertips dipped inside her hot sex, it was dripping with her juices.

“You know they’ll give you a callback,” I said. She moaned as I eased as much of my middle finger inside her as I could.

“You got their attention,” I said. “You read for them, didn’t you?”

She grinned. “After they said I could put my clothes back on.”

“So there. They didn’t just send you away. They had you read some lines. You can bet you had their attention by then.”

She moaned again, her pussy clamping tight around my finger.

“What’s the movie, that they’d want you to take off your clothes?” I asked her, my hands sliding back up to fondle her breasts as I kissed her neck.

“I told you already,” she said with a smile. “Didn’t I? It’s about a woman who has an affair with the prison guard guarding her husband.”

“And it’s an Aaron Simpson movie?” I joked. “So what, the prison guard helps bust out her husband? They all have a huge car chase with the cops?”

Hayley laughed. “It’s not the usual Aaron Simpson movie, apparently. It’s more about the affair. She’s doing it because she needs the guard to protect her husband.”

“So there’s lots of sex?”

Hayley leaned forward and dropped her panties, then gave me the hottest come-hither look at me in the mirror I’d ever seen. Hands pressed to the glass, she looked so unbelievably good.

“I did tell you it’s an erotic drama?” she said defiantly. Was she daring me to tell her I hadn’t heard her say such a thing? Or testing my ongoing lack of jealousy?

“Okay, an erotic drama. I’d go see that.”

I ran my hands down the curve of her back, over the pleasing roundness of her behind. She might well have told me she was going for an erotic drama. I must have caught from her body language that she didn’t think she had a hope, or I’d remember. But what if she did actually snatch the role thanks to her little stunt today?

Jesus. My wife in an erotic drama. Showing herself not just to a few bemused movie producers, but to millions around the world.

I pulled open my fly, let my pants fall to the ground, and I was so incredibly hard for her. Hayley felt me, touched my hard cock between her buttocks, and her defiant stance melted into pure desire.

“So you forgive me?” she said with a wry grin. She groaned as I pressed my tip against the entrance to her pussy.

“Nothing to forgive,” I said. I jerked my hips to thrust into her with sudden force. She was definitely wet enough.

She squealed as I filled her so quickly. I began to move inside her, and all conversation died. My cute redhead of a wife clung to the mirror and whimpered as I took her, hard and deep, giving in to my base instincts to claim some kind of ownership over her.

“You’re still…not at all jealous…?” she asked a little breathless.

“It’s just acting, right?”

She gave me a fiery glance in the mirror. “I’d probably have to strip off and lie in bed with Aaron Simpson.”

“Uh-huh. You’d like that.”

“Not jealous at all?”

I could smell her arousal as I plunged into her, and it only fueled my lust, reminding me that she must have been so turned on by her strip show for those other men, for Aaron Simpson himself.

Her breasts shook as I pounded her, then she reached between her legs and touched her clit as I continued to fuck her. I’d never seen her need release as much as she needed it now.

When it came, her orgasm was intense—the culmination of an afternoon of arousal and fear. She stood there, both hands flat against the glass in front, and just shook like we were going through another earthquake.

And the last thought to pop into my mind before I let go, pumping my thick come deep inside her, was to wonder if my wife had just been imagining that Aaron Simpson was standing behind her, fucking her like there was no tomorrow.

Chapter Three

Was I surprised she got a call back from the Aaron Simpson movie? Not a bit. I’d have said her talent would have been enough, but her accidental strip show would have made her stand out.

We tried to be realistic in our approach to her second audition, however. Liona dropped by for a casual dinner the night before and seemed to spend the evening lowering Hayley’s expectations.

“They’ll call a number of actors back,” she said. “I have every confidence in you, Hay. It’s just—”

Hayley was grounded enough already in the art of dealing with rejection to know what Liona was trying to do. “I know, I know. You don’t want me to feel bad if they don’t give me the part,” she said.

Liona sniffed at her wine. “I mean, it’s not unknown for producers to make casting choices entirely independently of their auditions, with auditions held just in case something falls through with their number one choices. Or number two choices, for that matter.”

“We know it’s anything but certain,” I said. “But it’s good she got a call-back, right? I mean, that’s promising.”

“I’d say so,” the agent nodded. “And seeing as how small this town is, people will know you already as one of the call-backs for the Aaron Simpson prison movie.”

Hayley looked delighted at that possibility, though I could see she was trying to rein in any signs of excitement.

The day of the second audition, I kissed her goodbye and went to work as normal, but it felt almost as though I myself were about to face some critical test—more so than even the New York and then California bar exams I’d had to take. I found myself closing my eyes during quiet moments in the day, silently praying that Hayley did okay at her audition—that she would get something out of it, even if it was merely a lead that might open the door to some other project.

When I got home, I was ambushed by a squealing half-naked whirl of noise that instantly sent a wave of relief through my frame—it had gone well.

Once I’d managed to extract myself from a deep kiss, she said, all out-of-breath, “Liona called, like 20 minutes after I finished my audition to say that Aaron called her personally as soon as I was out the door.”

I smiled at her use of his first name, like they were already best buddies. But I was thrilled—and I knew from the moment she jumped me she’d gotten the part.

“So they confirmed which part they want to give you?”

“The lead!” she squealed again. “Can you believe it? The lead female role!”

She kissed me again, and this time my hands found their way around the smooth, soft skin of her body. She was wearing a little peach-colored bikini. I could smell the hint of salt on her skin and the ocean in her hair. She’d spent the day working on her tan, relaxing. The image made me shiver.

“And Aaron Simpson will be the lead male?” I asked her.

“Uh-huh,” she said, and suddenly looked apprehensive. “It is okay, right?”

“Of course.” I beamed, and my hand found its way between her thighs, where the temperature was already raised. “You’ve always liked him, haven’t you?”

She shrugged. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“A good-looking guy, a Hollywood legend. And you’ll be shooting a few love scenes with him, I’m guessing?”

“Sure. But it’s just acting.”

“Acting on a bed with him, probably without any clothes….”

“Seriously? Now you’re jealous?” I heard the edge of worry in her voice.

“Not at all.”

Then her hand fell to my crotch, and brushed over the hardness lurking there, making her catch her breath. “You’re so hard!” She said in barely more than a whisper.

“What can I say?” I said, her fingers curling around my shaft through my pants. “I kind of like it that my beautiful wife’s going to strip off for an erotic drama with Aaron Simpson.”

She grinned and blushed as my hand reached up to cup her breast through her bikini top, and then slip under the material to find her hard nipple therein. “He’s a very professional actor,” she said, caressing my hardness through my pants. “He’s done love scenes with dozens of actresses before.”

“And probably slept with half of them.”

“But they weren’t married,” she insisted. “I’ll be able to hold him off.”

“We’ll see,” I grinned.

She raised an eyebrow at that. “And you’re not even jealous about that?”

I shrugged. “I trust you.”

Then she said, joking, “You’d probably like it, wouldn’t you? Pervert. If I came home and told you Aaron Simpson wanted to date me? Have an affair with me?”

I don’t think she’d have quite believed me anyway if I’d said ‘yes’, but I was thinking it.

She kissed me deeply, her fingers crawling all over my swollen manhood through the black cotton of my suit pants, and I could tell she was quietly amazed and exhilarated that I was so supportive of her doing whatever was needed with Aaron Simpson. I guess other husbands might have been more challenging to deal with in such circumstances.

She turned her back to me, but led me away from the door, over to the white leather couch I’d never really cared for, but seemed more appropriate for our bright and breezy California home than the furniture we’d had in our New York apartment.

“He’s, what, ten years older than you?” I asked her.

“Twelve.” Her precise knowledge was telling.

“So you probably had posters of him on your wall when you were growing up.”

She smiled bashfully, then as some kind of diversion, pushed me down on the couch before climbing on me.

“So what if I did?” she said, kissing me. “Everybody did when I was a teenager.”

“All those nights you must have spent gazing up at him while you…well…took care of business…”

“And you just plastered every Playboy Pet on your wall—”

“Playboy Playmates. It was Penthouse that had Pets,” I corrected her. “But I don’t get to star opposite any of them in a movie. And in an erotic movie at that.”

We wrestled a little, and I ended up on top, lying between her legs.

“You really do like the idea of me doing an erotic movie?” she asked, still amazed.

I shrugged, and kissed my way down her chest. “I’ve learned to cope with what you do for a living,” I said.

“Sounds like you might have over-compensated a little,” she said, but though she was attempting to play it down, I could tell all this had her on fire.

Her nipples were so stiff, her chest flushed pink, and as I kissed my way over her flat, smooth stomach I could smell the dark scent of her arousal already. She moaned as I stroked my mouth and nose over the warm increasingly damp material of her swimsuit, inhaling her strong aroma.

“I can tell it turns you on.” I reached under her thighs and then up to hold her waist as I nuzzled against her wet pussy. “Even if they end up using body doubles for the really dirty parts, you’ll be in bed with him, you’ll have your hands all over him, right? And you’ll have to kiss him….”

“Well, it is a romance story,” she said, then moaned as I nosed aside her bikini bottoms and buried my face in her sopping pussy.

She placed a hand on the back of my head as I licked her slippery folds, tasting the salt of the ocean, lacing her tangy juices.

She said, “I’m not sure they’re planning on using body doubles, though….”

Was Hayley trying to push my buttons? Was she catching on to what my fantasy really was?

I ate her with abandon, slurping at her copious nectar, sucking on her sweet labia, pressing my nose against her clit though her little patch of down tickled me.

So what if they were filming sex scenes without doubles? Another man—Aaron Simpson—would be lying between her legs, butt-naked. His cock would be touching her, probably rubbing against her pussy, and there’s no way it wouldn’t be hard.

My fantasy of Hayley dating and sleeping with someone else had been borne of the need to make her happy while her career was in the doldrums. But now that she was going places, it wasn’t simply dissolving, it was adapting to a whole new extraordinary situation.

I liked the idea of my beautiful, naughty Hayley sleeping with a movie star. How incredible would it make her feel—and how incredible would it be to see her after such an experience?

She came powerfully on my face, her eyes closed, her head tilted back, her chest rising and falling as she gasped for breath, and I couldn’t help wondering whether her thoughts were being as faithful as her declarations. In her imagination, it wasn’t just me going down on her, it was a man she’d been fantasizing about for years.