A Hotwife In Montana

“I’ve been waiting for this.” My voice comes out husky, my lip trembling as his fingers enter my core. “We need to be quick. You will need to get back to work.” His lips are pressed against my neck, silencing any words he might have said.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have come here today but my husband insisted.

“It’s been a while, Jazz, Why not go meet that southern gent.”

Ok, it didn’t take much coaxing. He gets off on me getting off. Who am I to stop him? We aren’t hurting anyone.

The weather is hotter than I expected. I’ve only been here a few moments and already my skirt is clinging to my perspiring skin. This tryst is going to be a challenge out here in the heat of the woods, but that is the meeting spot I chose, so I only have myself to blame. My nipples are straining at the lace of my corset. Yes, a corset. I thought I would dress for the occasion. I did cheat a little. No way anyone is going to make me wear those frilly bloomers you see in all the corset photos. I went practical, a flowing skirt with nothing underneath.

It’s all about waiting now. Waiting for George in the middle of southeast Montana. I check my watch. Five more minutes. My lover is always punctual, yet although I know the exact time of his arrival, still, I am impatient, my cunt greedily drooling beneath my skirt, my body on edge, craving his touch.

Voices rise over the hill. Scouts probably. George is so paranoid. He compulsively sends scouts to make sure our location is clear. “A man’s reputation is his battle cry!” He is always so dramatic. Right on cue, the voices fade, returning from whence they came.

Two more minutes. There is so much time in the world, how can it move so painstakingly slow? I adjust my hair. The warm wind has tangled my brown curls. A strand is plastered to my face. He won’t care, he likes me when I perspire.

Suddenly he is there, his footsteps barely announcing his arrival before his hands are upon me. His aroma is a mix of alpha musk and his own perspiration. Neither of us cares as his hands lift my skirt, pinching my bare bottom.

“Hey!” I half-heartedly exclaim even though my clit begins throbbing.

As if he has a hidden sense, his hands are right where I want them, sliding easily between my sopping folds, spreading my lust over my clit. He is a bit rougher than normal, as if distracted, but I feel his hard steel pressing against my backside and know he will soon forget whatever is troubling him.

“I’ve been waiting for this.” My voice comes out husky, my lip trembling as his fingers enter my core. “We need to be quick. You will need to get back to work.”

His lips are pressed against my neck, silencing any words he might have said. I reach behind me, rubbing the thick sword still sheathed. We need to fix that. My need is too great, his cock too hard and time too short for formalities. I lean forward placing my left hand against the nearby elm and bunch my skirt up at the waist. If he doesn’t get the hint now, this might go down as the biggest failure in history.

My bold move is rewarded as I hear George’s belt clamor as it falls to the ground. A randy slap of his palm makes my ass jiggle as the sting turns into a jolt of electricity buzzing through my body. His calloused hands clasp my hips as he lines himself up and rams that delicious cock into me. The filling feeling of six thick inches twitching inside me is almost too much to bear.

I slide my hand under the side slit of my skirt, darting to my clit. I have waited so long to feel him inside me, my body needs release. His cock rubs against my fingers as he thrusts. It is slick with my juices; each thrust makes that satisfying sloshing sound that always brings me to the edge. My clit is throbbing. One pinch and the first orgasmic wave ripples through me.

“Ahhhh.” My cry echoes too loudly in the wind but we are too far gone now to care.

Each wave of lust squeezes my core tightly around him. His grunts are louder, more urgent. His hands grope my breasts through the corset. I barely feel his touch through the thick cotton, but I sense his passion as he bucks harder. Impossibly, my orgasm is returning. I bite my lip to avoid a second yell. Not everyone in these parts would think kindly of our activity.

It is getting very hard to think, to hold back as I feel the liquid flow out of me like a waterfall. His hands return to my hips, digging into my flesh. It hurts, but it is pure ecstasy. Tears are dripping down my cheeks from the pleasure wracking through my body. Then I feel it. The first rope of his orgasm slaps loudly against the inside my thigh as he pulls out just in time. Another coats my bottom, then several more arch over my backside. There is so much cum.

Turning, I reach down, catching the dripping cock and feeding it to my hungry lips. He has one more squirt for me, then small dribbles, but it is satisfying, this cocktail we made.

I help him get back into his pants, watching him walk off with undeniable confidence.

I hear a voice cry out. “There you are, General. We need to get back to the camp. I heard some noises, I think the Indians are near.”

Without wavering, General Custer responds, “Well then we better strike now before they sneak up on us.”

As I punched in the time coordinates to return to 2022, I felt a bit of sorrow. I always knew George would not be returning from that fight, but deep inside I was glad to give his bighorn one last stand before the legendary battle.

Part 1 of 4 from the Adventures of a Time Travelling Hotwife

Find all Time Travel tales on the publication, including this series, here…

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