Book VI: Isabella in Istanbula

When we heard that distinctive ticking engine sound that announced the arrival of a London black cab, we looked at each other with a strange mix of apprehension and excitement. He was a half-hour earlier than planned. We’d only got the twins in bed a few minutes before, and we still felt like the stressed-out working parents we were, instead of the carefree couple he’d known on that fateful cruise. We were both in our work clothes, Izzy in a smart black pencil skirt, crisp white cotton shirt, and high but not outrageously high black calf stilettos. I was in my usual uniform of dark-wash jeans, white button-down oxford, and tan suede desert boots. It was too late for either of us to do anything about it.

As Izzy pulled open the door and he stepped forward, Drake’s powerful frame filled the entire doorway. Ignoring her slightly disheveled appearance and the fact that neighbors could easily have been peeping from behind their chintz curtains, he swept Izzy into his strong arms. Dropping his suitcase on the front step, he kissed my wife as passionately as he’d ever done on the trip – before even getting in the front door. 

“Hey, man, I’m sorry, but the kids are upstairs,” I objected.

“Shit, I forgot; I’m sorry, Luke. I was just so excited to see you – both of you. You look great. Really great.” Izzy beamed at his excitement.

He gave me his usual enveloping man-hug, and I sensed an uncharacteristic nervousness about him. I suppose it was perfectly understandable because, as far as I’m aware, no one has ever developed a set of protocols for the appropriate etiquette on arriving at the home of your lover and her husband. 

“No worries. Everything’s fine. Welcome to our home. But we do need to be careful while you’re here. Now, come on in,” I said reassuringly.

He dragged his suitcase into the hallway, then Izzy took him by the hand and led him into our main living room. 

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

“I’ve done nothing but eat and drink on the flight. In first-class, the flight attendants seem to feel they have to overfill you – it’s a sacred duty,” he responded, laughing warmly. “But, I could murder a stiff drink and maybe a light salad.”

I knew how he felt. The tension in the air was weirdly unexpected. Why would it not have occurred to me? Everything that happened on the cruise was supposed to have stayed on the cruise, but the specter of the past was rearing its shockingly handsome head. That striking young man had experienced every imaginable sexual activity with my gorgeous wife in what was supposed to be a relatively risk-free environment. Yet there he was in our family home with who-knew-what plans.

Izzy had remained silent since being on the receiving end of his intense kiss at the front door. But apparently, she was over it.  

“We’d planned a simple green salad with smoked trout and baby fingerling potatoes if that’s okay?”

“That would be perfect, Izzy. My God, it’s so good to see you again. You can’t imagine how much I’ve been thinking about you.” His enthusiasm was contagious, and we all found ourselves drawn into a spontaneous group hug as the initial tension started to ease. 

“Why don’t I show you your room so you can get that suitcase out of the hallway,” she suggested. “It has a small adjoining bathroom if you need to freshen up before we eat. In the meantime, Luke can fix each of us a gigantic gin and tonic.”

“Sure. Sounds like a deal,” he smiled.

I heard the unavoidable creaks of the stairs as I poured three hefty measures of gin over the ice cubes. Victorian houses are particularly unforgiving when you need to creep around unnoticed. Equally inevitable, I suppose, was the clenching of my stomach as I pictured my beautiful wife shutting the door of the guest bedroom. My mind immediately conjured the most vivid images of her imagined infidelity. I pictured her dropping to her knees and undoing his pants, pulling out his impressive cock and plunging it deep into her throat. I imagined him sliding his large, black hand under her elegant pencil skirt and finding the wetness of her pussy as it craved his touch. I was still mentally examining all the potential possibilities when I heard a noise behind me. 

“A penny for your thoughts.” My first reaction was to hide my dirty contemplations from her. But I quickly realized the futility of it. 

“To be honest, I was wondering what the two of you might be doing up there.”

“And what did you imagine, Luke. Did you think I’d be so horny that I’d suck him off within fifteen minutes of his arrival? Maybe you thought he’d insist on a quickie behind the bedroom door and pound his hard cock into me until we both orgasmed in a frenzied, wet mixing of our pent-up desires.”

“Mmm, maybe. So, what did you do?”

“We kissed. Once. And then he wanted to take a shower before dinner, so I came back downstairs.”

“Did he take off his clothes before you came down?”

“Mmm, yes.”

“So you got to see him naked again?


“Was he as hot as you remembered?”


“Was he as hard as you remembered?”

“Within seconds.”

“Within seconds of what?” My heart pounded in anticipation.

“Within seconds of me taking him into my mouth.”

My cock shot to attention at the visual image that seared itself on my brain. 

He’d only been in our home for a matter of minutes, and it seemed all pretense at propriety had flown out of the window already. Izzy‘s feelings were so obvious and intense that she had set aside the fact that it was our family home, that our boys were asleep down the hall, and that her husband was preparing a mean G and T in the best tradition of Jeeves. Hers was a simple craving – she’d wanted her young lover’s thick, black cock in her mouth, there and then. 

When Drake rejoined us, he was comfortably kitted out for a typical evening at home. A set of slim-cut designer sweats emphasized the taut, muscled athleticism of the man. I’d never seen him in anything so casual. Knowing his proclivity for going commando, I wondered how that would work in such relatively loose-fitting clothes. I should have guessed. Within the pants, an enormous bulge hung down his thigh, confirming the presence of what we already knew was an impressive blessing. A blessing that had already been in my wife’s mouth such a short while before.

Glancing at Izzy, I saw that the sight had captured her attention too. Her mouth was hanging slightly open, and I knew that humor would be the safest tactic to get us all through the awkward moment. 

“Izzy, my darling, you need to shut your mouth – you’re going to be drooling soon, and it’s not becoming. I can guess the dirty things you were imagining, but poor Drake is tired, as you can see.” I waved my hand in the general direction of his groin, and luckily everyone cracked up with laughter.

After a simple but delicious supper, we all sat around talking and catching up on the latest exploits of our three American friends. Izzy sat on the sofa, curled up next to Drake as if we were still in Istanbul rather than back home in London with our two boys upstairs in bed. The closeness we all felt hadn’t dissipated in the slightest since our trip. When Drake slid his powerfully muscled arm around her shoulders, I wondered if it would be too much for my wife, considering where we were. But not a bit of it. Knowing how soundly the boys always sleep, she just snuggled up closer in an almost feline way – I half expected her to purr. Such was the strength of her feelings for him. My ever-present fear of losing her became all the more acute.

Unlike the fear I’d felt when we were all on the trip together, my new fear had another, more complex layer. As well as a deep-rooted panic that my marriage was in jeopardy, I was anxious that Izzy and Drake would be unable or unwilling to hide their relationship from our boys. These worrying thoughts were bombarding my mind simultaneously as I attempted to chat nonchalantly about the twins’ passion for soccer. 

When Drake suddenly announced that he’d missed us so badly that he’d purposely engineered this business trip away from one of his colleagues who had been scheduled to come, I knew I couldn’t ignore the implication. He followed up his admission by leaning down and kissing the top of Izzy’s head. She wriggled in delight while my tongue froze solid in my mouth. Izzy was positively glowing as I attempted to drag the conversation back to the logistical details of the weekend.

“So, Drake. You mentioned that you have meetings all day tomorrow and we have to work as well. But on Saturday, we’ve arranged for my parents to pick up the boys in the afternoon and bring them back early on Sunday evening. So we’ll have Saturday evening together and most of the day on Sunday, when we can take you out sightseeing or maybe just for brunch at one of our favorite restaurants up in Little Venice by the Regents Canal. Then for Saturday evening, the choice is yours. We could go out to dinner, or another option would be to get food delivered and stay in.”

Why was I not surprised to hear his choice.

“My vote goes to staying in,” he chuckled, leaving no ambiguity about his intentions and squeezing my Izzy even closer to his chest. If I’d been unsure of how he would conduct himself, then he’d just removed any lingering doubts. “But right now, I can feel my jet lag hitting, so, if you’ll forgive me, I think I’ll hit the sack.”

Little was said as Izzy and I tidied up and then went up to bed ourselves. When she finally sighed and turned out her light, I was left with my own thoughts for what seemed like hours – all the time half expecting her to slip out of bed and creep next door to be with him.

The next morning Izzy and I sat at the breakfast table with the boys, devouring our usual weekday fare of cereals and fruit. When Drake finally surfaced, he ambled nonchalantly into the kitchen, wearing a pair of cotton pajama pants but no shirt. How on earth had I forgotten the impressive body that had been on almost permanent show during the cruise?

“Hey guys, good morning. I’m Drake. A good friend of your mum and dad.” He’d gravitated straight to Sam and Jake with his hand out to greet them.

All credit to the kids; they reached out and shook his hand like a pair of little gentlemen. They even remembered to speak up.

“I’m Sam, hi.”

“My name’s Jake.”

“Good to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you from your parents.”

The boys went back to their breakfasts without any apparent concern about a powerful, half-naked, black guy taking up an enormous amount of space in our small family kitchen. I was hyper-aware of my wife’s half-smile at him as she asked if he slept well.

“Like a log, Izzy, thank you. I really owe you all a debt of gratitude for welcoming me into your lives.”

Into our lives? I thought we were putting him up for the weekend. On the surface, it would have struck you as quite the scene of domesticity, except I knew what passionate feelings lay seething beneath that ostensibly calm surface – for all three of the adults in the room. 

After the quick weekday breakfast, we were all splitting up and heading in different directions. I walked the twins to school before getting the tube to my office. Izzy had also intended to get her usual train, but Drake insisted she ride along with him in his Uber. He was logically correct when he pointed out that her office was almost directly on his route to his first meeting. That gave them an extra fifteen minutes at home after I’d left with the boys. Fifteen minutes that I spent wondering what they could be doing. It wasn’t a long time but certainly enough for a quickie – one that I suspected they were desperate to savor, like thirsty explorers discovering an oasis. 

All the wild sexual adventures on our trip as Izzy evolved from being a shy, inhibited housewife into a wild erotic vixen had involved the two of us sharing the experience together. But what if their mutual desire was so powerful they couldn’t hold themselves back to wait around for my presence? What if the whole affair had taken on a life of its own, and Izzy was now prepared to exclude me? She’d already taken him in her mouth without my prior knowledge. Admittedly it was just for a quick taste, and she’d promised me he hadn’t cum, but even so, I had to wonder if any attempts at self-restraint were a thing of the distant past.

I’d been at my office for about a half-hour when I got a text from Izzy.

[IzzyS] Hey, you. Just letting you know that I got here safely. 

I couldn’t resist.

[Luke88] So you had a ride with Drake?

[IzzyS] Yup.

[Luke88] Did you share his Uber too?

[IzzyS] LOL. I guessed you’d be thinking dirty thoughts. Did you imagine us fucking like rabbits the minute you’d left?

[Luke88] Maybe.

[IzzyS] Well, we DIDN’T. We did kiss, though.

[Luke88] Nice?

[IzzyS] Wonderful. Oh yes, I almost forgot; he did have two of his massive black fingers inside me.

My cock threatened to explode there and then. Thank God I was sitting behind my desk.

[Luke88] Did he make you cum.

[IzzyS] Mmm, yes. He finger-fucked your devoted wife, my darling, and I came so hard.

[Luke88] Still wet?

[IzzyS] Yup. Are you hard?

[Luke88] Yup. But now I need to go. Meeting starts in three minutes.

I spent the rest of the day imagining Drake, bringing my wife to a climax on his talented fingers, and anticipating what conflicting emotions the weekend could bring.

About Author /

Alex Jamieson is a respected and highly rated author of erotic fiction in the hotwife, wife-sharing, wife-watching genres. His acclaimed ‘Hotwife Travel Series’ has been hailed by one Amazon reviewer as “the thinking man’s hotwife erotica.” His career involves a nomadic life, traveling with his wife between California, London, and Singapore, providing the perfect opportunity to indulge in writing in his chosen field while cruising aloft at thirty-five thousand feet. Follow him or find out more at: Alex Jamieson: Books, Biography, Blog, Audiobooks, Kindle

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