The Trophy Wife’s Forbidden Obsession
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
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The Trophy Wife’s
Forbidden Obsession
Another man’s wife is a treasure for the taking
An Interracial Cuckold Romance
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
© Copyright 2024 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft
NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Trophy Wife’s
Forbidden Obsession
Anywhere USA, Present Day
Kathryn awoke to the dull ache of unfulfilled desires. Her body still tingled from the erotic dreams that haunted her sleep. Stretching languorously in the plush bed, her mind spun with visions. In the arms of a faceless lover, who ravaged her in ways Wyatt couldn’t.
The guilt of these nocturnal fantasies clung to her like a second skin. But her wet dreams weren’t her fault; no, they were his. She turned to face her husband, whose slumber remained undisturbed by the storm of her discontent.
Disgust invaded her heart. She’d first gotten angry when he sold his accounting firm and went to work for a businessman. It made no sense and less dollar and cents, by more than a quarter of a million per year.
In truth, she grew enraged with him every time they made love or attempted to. Right from the start, it was a challenge for him.
“Useless,” she said under her breath. Her voice, laced with venom, which wasn’t meant for him, not all together at least. Yet it was Wyatt who’d endure the force of her frustration.
Her words sliced through the silence, sharp and cruel, as she admonished him awake with her biting, belittling tongue.
“You know, darling, last night was... disappointing,” Kathryn said, each syllable dripped with disdain. “You’d think after all this time you’d have learned how to satisfy a woman.”
Wyatt’s eyes fluttered open, meeting her gaze with a mix of confusion and hurt. But beneath that, a flicker of something else ignited. An ember of arousal stoked by her harsh rebuke. Kathryn didn’t notice the way his breath hitched or the subtle shift in his posture. Her simmering resentment also consumed her.
There was a high price to being a trophy wife.
She rose from the bed. Her expensive silk nightgown clung to her slender yet curvy body. She sauntered toward the ensuite bathroom without a backward glance. Wyatt lay there. The sting of her words mingled with the strange heat they provoked within him.
As the sound of running water filled the room. Wyatt followed her path, slipping into the shower behind the frosted glass door. Steam curled around him, the hot droplets cascading over his body as he closed his eyes. Replaying Kathryn’s cutting critique.
His hand moved instinctively.
Taking his length in his hand, he leaned against the cool tiles. The sensation of his own touch melded with the memory of Kathryn’s contempt. Her dissatisfaction fueled his fantasy, in his mind, he saw her with another. Someone who could give her what she craved. The passion and release he couldn’t provide.
Even the blue pill hadn’t helped. Even in masturbation, he hadn’t any lasting power.
Cleansed but unsatisfied, Wyatt shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around his waist. His reflection in the fogged mirror bore the mark of a man confronting his own complicated yearnings. Wondering if the seeds of truth lay buried within his wife’s cruelty.
Wyatt’s fingers trembled as he locked the file cabinet, the click of the metal echoing in his now-empty office. Sojourner Freeman was still holed up in his spacious room. No doubt, he still pored over numbers and planned his next conquest. Wyatt stole a glance at the framed photo on his desk before pocketing his keys. Kathryn’s smile, frozen in time, seemed to mock him from behind the glass.
“Hey, Wyatt,” Sojourner said. His voice boomed from the doorway, smooth and confident. “You headin’ out?”
“Uh, yeah,” Wyatt said. Turning around, feeling the weight of his confession already swelling in his throat. “Just wrapping up for the day.”
“Good work today,” Sojourner said. As he complimented Wyatt, he clapped a large hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. They walked towards the exit together. “How’s the missus? She treated you well after your first day with us?”
Wyatt hesitated, the idea of Kathryn’s dissatisfaction haunting him.
“Well, she has this thing,” he said. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “for making fun of me.”
Sojourner stopped in his tracks, eyeing Wyatt with a mixture of interest and disbelief. “Making fun of you? How so?”
“Last night, she...” he cleared his throat, “she told me I didn’t satisfy her. And she was quite viscous and cruel to me,” Wyatt said. Shame and arousal swirled within him as he confessed to the man who was all but a stranger.
“Man,” Sojourner said. Chuckling, shaking his head with a knowing grin. “If you have that hot a wife, bro, you have to take a load of shit now and again, don’t you?”
Wyatt forced a laugh, but inside, his heart hammered. A man like Sojourner, a man who lived the life Wyatt fantasized about, saying his wife was hot, was more thrilling than he cared to admit. What he could do with her, to her, that’d be a sight to see.
“Guess that’s the price to pay,” Wyatt said, trying to sound casual as they stepped into the cool evening air.
“Price to pay indeed,” Sojourner said, his eyes glinting with an unreadable expression. “But sometimes, Wyatt, it’s worth every damn penny.”
As they parted ways, Wyatt couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. They now shared secrets, nasty and thrilling. He climbed into his car and started the engine. As he thought of Kathryn’s taunting words blending with Sojourner’s spontaneous acceptance, ignited a fire within him.
The flame burned hotter as the night closed in.
The sun beamed down on the company picnic. The light bathed the gathering of colleges and families in warmth. Sojourner Freeman, the host, moved among his employees with ease. His charisma was as rich as the barbeque sauce slathered on the ribs at the buffet table.
Her cameltoe was molded into the fabric, and they clung to her cheeks in a seductive painted-on look.
“Kathryn, right?” Sojourner approached, extending a hand. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you from Wyatt.”
She clasped his fingers with hers, light and sensual, drug her fingernails over his knuckles, and let his hand slip away.
“Only good things, I hope,” Kathryn answered her voice a gentle melody laced with an undertone that hinted at more than mere pleasantries. Her eyes fluttered around the crowd, seeking out her husband with subtle glances.
“Of course,” Sojourner said. He reassured her and smiled, which was suggestive but not overt. “But I must say, he undersold your beauty.”
A coy leer grazed her lips. Sojourner sparked an ignition within her with his compliment. Sojourner and Kathryn exchanged playful and flirty banter. Both aware of the underlying tension strung inside each word. Kathryn leaned forward, allowing her gaze to linger on Sojourner. Long enough to convey interest but still discreet enough not to draw unwanted attention.
With every laugh and careful touch to his arm, she became more aroused.
As they conversed, Kathryn’s thoughts betrayed her. Her mind wandered into forbidden fantasies of a man, not her husband. And Kathryn immersed herself in the myriad of possibilities. Visions involving this man who stood before her. The very man her husband admired and envied. The flicker of guilt for Wyatt’s absence did little to dampen the heat pooling between her thighs.
The intensity of her arousal divulged her interest; her growing wetness seeped through the fabric of her jeans. Forming a subtle but telling dark spot. She shifted weight and changed the position of her legs, trying in vain to conceal the evidence.
But Sojourner’s sharp gaze had already taken a mental snapshot of the evidence.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Kathryn said. The words more murmured than spoken. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and thrill. She turned away, ostensibly to refresh her drink, but to compose herself and the raging sexual appetite within.
The aching want between her thighs was a constant reminder of her unspoken yearnings.
Sojourner watched her retreat. The image of her damp jeans seared into his mind. He knew the game well. The ballet of flirtation that could lead to so much more. And as Kathryn walked away, a cunning grin spread across his face.
Oh, the possibilities ahead with her.
Hidden from the joviality of the company picnic, Wyatt Haley perched in his temporary lair. His darkened office overlooked the park. His breath came in shallow gasps as he peered through binoculars. The lenses fogged from his feverish anticipation. Kathryn’s vivacious laughter tinkled faintly through the glass.
This faint proof of her interest spurred his fervor as he watched her interact with Sojourner Freeman.
Fantasies ran wild in his head.
His hand moved at a hard, fast cadence beneath the towel draped across his lap. Clutching himself tight and jacking while he imagined the scenes unfolding before him. Kathryn, his diminutive wildcat of a wife, took charge and pushed Sojourner against a tree. And the roles reversed. Sojourner pinned her down on the grass, dominant and unyielding.
Wyatt’s heart pummeled with every illicit fantasy. His body shuddered in silent release, once, twice, thrice, each climax more intense than the last.
As dusk settled, the couple returned home, their dinner conversation laced with an electric undercurrent. Kathryn, sipping her wine, mused aloud about Sojourner’s magnetic charm.
“He’s quite the handsome man, isn’t he? Yes, deary, I can see why he’s so successful with the ladies,” she said. Her tone a playful accusation. Chastising his lack of manliness and awkward social skills.
Wyatt, entranced by her soft disapproval, nodded with a muted silence. His arousal reignited at her calm acknowledgment of another man’s allure.
“Come here, lover,” Kathryn said. Beckoned, her tone commanded yet sultry.
Wyatt obeyed and kneeled before her as she guided his head between her thighs. As he ravished her with his tongue, Kathryn leaned back, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Imagine it’s him, darling,” she said, her hands tangled in Wyatt’s hair, fingernails dug into his scalp. Guiding him deeper, forcing his tongue inside her.
“Imagine you’re eating Sojourner’s cum from me.”
The vivid imagery sent a jolt through Wyatt. His mind awash with a potent blend of humiliation and adjure. He worshiped her with renewed vigor, intoxicated by the fantasy that it was another man’s essence he sought with his eager mouth.
Wyatt reached down to release his member.
“No, no, Wyatt, on the inside. Make a mess for me.”
Kathryn, lost in her daydream, moaned. Her body undulated in response to Wyatt’s attentions and the delicious taboo thoughts swirling through her mind. The evening stretched into the wee hours past midnight. Their carnal dance was a prologue to dreams, both dark and enthralling.
A place where the lines of fidelity blurred into a haze of unspoken pining.
The silence of the night was broken by Wyatt’s steady breathing. He lay beside his wife, Kathryn, slumbering in a dreamless void. The moonlight spilled through the half-open curtains, casting a pale, yellow light inside their bedroom.
A soft sigh escaped Kathryn’s lips. Her body undulated under the silk sheets, each movement more urgent than the last. Her dreams had taken her far from the quiet sanctity of their marital bed.
“Ah... Sojourner...” she said. Her voice a breathe murmur, yet it pierced the silence like a dagger, striking into Wyatt’s heart.