Game Changer Read online

  Game Changer

  Max Sebastian

  MaxSebastian.net

  KW

  PUBLISHING

  Copyright © 2018 Max Sebastian

  All rights reserved.

  Cover image © stockedhousestudio | bigstockphoto.com

  Excerpt first published as ‘High Stakes’ within Best Hotwife Erotica Volume 4: Games of Chance, Edited by Ben Boswell

  First full digital edition electronically published March 2018

  This is a work of fiction, any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or events, organizations or locations, is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without written consent is strictly prohibited, other than limited quotes for purposes of review.

  The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read this story. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought this book, or sharing your experience via social media, to help us spread the word. Thank you for supporting this work.

  Contents

  Author's Note

  Part One: High Stakes

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Part Two: Dealer's Choice

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Part Three: All In

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  About the Author

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  Also by Max Sebastian

  Author’s Note

  Some readers may have dipped into the first part of this story through an excerpt published at the end of January within the anthology Best Hotwife Erotica Volume 4: Games of Chance as edited by Ben Boswell. That excerpt was a shortened version of the first eight chapters of this novel, so for those impatient to pick up the rest of the story, you could just skip to chapter nine. In this full version of the novel you get a third extra content in that first part of the story, and then the rest of the twenty-six chapters charting the whole story.

  Even if you have a full version of ‘Game Changer’ in your hands right now, I’d still heartily recommend you grab a copy of Best Hotwife Erotica Volume 4, by the way. In it there are hotwife stories by the fantastic Arnica Butler, Ben Boswell and Kirsten McCurran, as well as subgenre legend Kenny Wright.

  ‘Game Changer’ stemmed from Ben’s call for BHE Volume 4 to focus on stories about games of chance that lead to the sharing of wives. As ever, as a writer I’m fairly terrible at limiting myself to a few thousand words for the benefit of putting out a short story — I usually want to see what happens after the events contained within a short, which is one hallmark of a good short, and as the writer I don’t have to stop if I don’t want to.

  As you’ll see in this story, what happens when a tale of hotwife action is allowed to continue can lead into unexpected directions, very much in the same way that the opening up of a relationship in real life can also take turns unforeseen at the start.

  Anyway, I’d like to thank Ben for getting me into this story in the first place, along with Kenny for his thoughts along the way. I’d also like to add my undying gratitude to my circle of invaluable beta-readers for their input—Anjali, Dan, Nick and Robert.

  Thanks, also, to you, Dear Reader, without whom none of this would be possible.

  Max Sebastian

  London, March 2018

  [email protected]

  Part One: High Stakes

  Chapter One

  You could totally blame it on climate change. Unless you’re one of those out-and-out whack jobs that denies what every scientist not on an oil company’s payroll says about climate change.

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘Is closed.’

  Here we were, the four of us, stuck in the middle of the Slovakian Alps in clunky boots not made for walking, all clutching ski poles and skis optimistically as the rain kept on falling.

  ‘But it’s going to open later, right? I mean, when the rain clears up.’

  ‘No. Is closed. No snow.’

  ‘But up there, at the top, there’s got to be some, right?’

  ‘No. No snow. Is closed.’

  Jake was leading the negotiations with the one guy we’d found in the whole place who seemed to speak a word of English. And he really didn’t speak much more than a word. Jake was kind of our host, but also the one of us who had more language skills than just elementary high school Spanish. However, here, Spanish was as alien to them as iced hazelnut macchiato or broadband internet—and German was downright frowned upon.

  All he could do was speak slowly and loudly in English, ‘You think it might open tomorrow? Thursday? The weekend?’

  And the old man, with the even older cigarette hanging off his lip, merely shrugged and repeated his entire English vocabulary back at us:

  ‘No. Is closed. No snow.’

  That was the extent of our interaction with the locals our whole week there. After our attempt at communication, we trudged back to the chalet, past bars and restaurants and even grocery stores that were all closed like the ski lift, past houses and chalets that were equally lifeless, windows darkened or even boarded up.

  ‘When you booked this, you did look to see if they ever have snow in these mountains?’ Hanna asked Jake, and it wasn’t the first time the question had been put to him since we had dismounted the decrepit weekly airport shuttle bus the day before, only to discover green grass and mud all around us instead of dreamy white snow.

  But we couldn’t spend the whole time blaming Jake. We’d all done our little bit of Internet research on the beautiful Slovakian Alps before agreeing to Jake’s suggestion of a low-low-low-price ski vacation to Europe. The year before, they’d had plenty of snow here.

  There was one grocery store in the whole town we’d discovered open, though the three aisles of mostly canned goods hardly offered us the most diverse menu to cook up once we got back to the chalet that was to be our prison cell for a whole week. There were pistachio nuts and some kind of licorice-like substance to snack on. At least we wouldn’t starve.

  The first couple of days, it proved something of an activity for us to try and come up with some kind of recipes with which to keep ourselves fed all week without getting sick.

  There were precious few other activities available to help us pass the time until the goddamn airport shuttle bus returned. Conversation only went so far. Television was all in Slovakian, and mostly seemed to involve either news broadcasts or documentaries about mountain goats. Internet was supposedly available as dial-up, but we all came bearing smart phones and tablets, nothing that could even conceive of needing to connect to anything as Stone Age as dial-up.

  Anyway, you get the picture. There wasn’t even a pen and paper on which to doodle.

  We spent the first day cleaning up the chalet, we were so starved of anything to do. Hayden found a single solitary pack of cards in a tiny drawer in the writing table hidden down in the basement, and that just about took care of Day 2 even though there were no kings in the whole deck.

  Day 3: after waking up and spending a leisurely two hours munching on Slovakian corn flakes and milk, while attemptin
g to crack jokes about how terrible the local TV was, that lonely pack of cards really did not appeal any longer.

  ‘We could go for a walk,’ my wife, Hanna, suggested with a half-hearted attempt to sound bright and cheery.

  We all looked to the windows, and what view there was, which was blurred there was so much rain streaming down the glass.

  ‘We could sing some songs.’

  Well, that just prompted laughter, even from Hanna.

  Of course in years gone by, we would have simply bought a crate or three of the local plonk and worked our way through it. Even the lethal-looking local Borovička— something not unlike gin except with a much higher alcohol content—seemed enticing while we had strolled around the grocery store. But Hayden had been to rehab, and we all had to respect that. There would be no drinking the week away.

  ‘It’s okay for you guys,’ Hayden complained, his big, dark eyes flicking between Hanna and me. ‘It’s not like you’re short of stuff to do.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I asked him, baffled as to what he was referring.

  ‘Well you’ve got... each other... right?’

  Hanna and I looked at one another as though Hayden was talking in some other language and neither of us could untangle a word of what he was saying.

  ‘What?’ Hanna said.

  ‘Well... you can... you know... spend the whole day in bed,’ he explained, and I think he was blushing, though it was difficult to discern because of his skin pigmentation.

  ‘Huh?’

  Hanna and I really weren’t stupid, I’d just add. We’d been married seven years, that’s all. Jake watched on from the sidelines, amused at us apparently teasing Hayden with our lack of comprehension of what he was suggesting. The way we forced him to explicitly state exactly what he meant:

  ‘You two can just spend the whole week fucking.’

  Hanna and I looked at each other in silence, somewhat stunned at that idea. I didn’t even feel a flicker of stiffening down below. Oh, it wasn’t that I didn’t find Hanna attractive anymore. Even on this trip—where she’d gone for the bare minimum effort look—simple T-shirt and leggings with her long, dark hair tied up in a high, messy ponytail and her face free of makeup, she was still unquestionably delicious. As I said, we’d been married a while. We had sex whenever one or the other of us needed it, perhaps a once-a-week thing. Ten minutes each time. Not a big deal. We satisfied each other, but we took shortcuts to satisfaction. And to be honest, we probably couldn’t remember the long way anymore.

  The thought of spending a whole week—or even five days or whatever we had left—doing nothing but making love... well, it was as inconceivable to us as it probably was to Jake and Hayden.

  ‘But that wouldn’t be fair to you guys,’ Hanna said after a long, awkward pause.

  ‘Sure it would,’ Jake shrugged, a mischievous smirk spread across his face. ‘At least somebody here would have something to do.’

  Hayden laughed, ‘And at least the rest of us would have something to listen to.’

  ‘Ohhhh... seriously?’ Hanna and I said as one, while Jake just laughed.

  After that the four of us had lounged around the central room of the chalet in virtual silence, the battered, old, only-just-color TV blaring in the corner. With a dejected sigh, Jake had picked up the cards and started playing Solitaire with himself. Hayden sat on the window seat gazing out at the rain splattering over the rooftops stepping down the mountainside in front of us. Hanna and I were sat on either corner of the large couch, attempting to look as though we really were watching TV.

  Maybe half an hour after our awkward conversation, I caught Hanna giving me a strange look.

  ‘What?’ I said silently.

  She flicked her big, smoky green eyes over toward the kitchen, and I flashed her a confused look. Did she want to start on lunch? It was hardly even ten o’clock yet. I doubled-down on my confused look. What was she saying? She flicked her whole head over toward the kitchen... and I saw she was looking toward the stairs that went up to the bedrooms.

  I raised an eyebrow, and half a smile. Was she thinking about doing exactly what Hayden had suggested half an hour before?

  She blushed and flicked her dark hair out of her face as though to distract anyone from the sight of her being a little flustered, maybe a little embarrassed. But then she looked at me directly and shrugged, as though to say: Why not? What else have we got to do?

  Along with her blue leggings, she was wearing a yellow t-shirt and no bra, since she hadn’t really been expecting on going out or doing anything much that day, certainly not anything that would cause her nipples to get as hard and obvious as they were right now.

  Was she really thinking about standing up and leading me out to the bedroom, to fuck me while our two friends sat around this place, only yards away, bored out of their skulls? Hayden had been absolutely right to say that if we did do anything, they’d be able to sit here and listen—this chalet was not large, and the walls were not thick.

  I gave her a nod toward Hayden and another toward Jake as though I needed to remind her that the guys were right here. She looked directly into my eyes, blushing fiercely, but shrugged as though to say ‘Who cares?’ At least we’d have something to do.

  I have to say, despite the fact that I often overlooked my wife’s beauty—because of the familiarity of spending so much time together over the years—just then the strange prospect of going upstairs to fuck, with our two friends knowing exactly what we were doing, and Hanna wanting to go ahead and do it anyway, had me warming up immensely, my manhood thickening up within my jeans.

  I was, I’ll add, a little nervous, because Hanna and I were used to the ten-minute quickie, and if we knew that Hayden and Jake would be sitting here listening to us do it, we’d probably feel pressure to extend our play time, to try to make it seem as though mammoth sex sessions were the normal state of our relationship these days.

  So for a little while I did pretend to be ignorant of what Hanna was suggesting, making her spell it out with nods toward the bedrooms, with glances at my crotch, with cupping of her breasts and even tweaking of her nipples when she thought the other guys weren’t looking.

  Finally she whispered, ‘Come on...’

  And as Hayden and Jake looked over to see what was going on in our world, I chuckled as though to play it all down, to get those guys to relax and not wonder what we were doing, so we could somehow sneak upstairs and fuck without them knowing exactly what we were doing.

  Hanna huffed and folded her arms in front of her chest, saying my name somewhat testily.

  Now Hayden and Jake were looking our way, and no one in the room could be under any pretenses about what Hanna wanted right now, and what I was going to have to do. Hayden laughed quietly, as though he’d been well and truly proven right.

  Jake said, ‘If you two want us to... get out of here for a while... you know, we can.’

  I’m not sure if he felt guilt as our host, the guy who had invited us on this trip, who had sold us on the idea of an affordable European getaway to a very out-of-the-way ski resort where we’d have the space to shoot down mountainsides without worrying about trains of toddlers learning to ski or jagged rocks waiting to slice us up on the way down.

  ‘No,’ Hanna said, her blush intensifying, which somehow appealed to me. ‘You shouldn’t have to go out there in that...’

  ‘We could go down to the store again—see if they’ve had a fresh shipment of really watery, gray canned peas,’ Jake said.

  ‘No,’ Hanna said, but now she was standing up, and to my surprise seemed to be stepping over to me as though she really was serious about going through with this. ‘You guys just stay here... we’ll make sure to keep the noise down.’

  I was a little horrified, to be honest, at my friends from college knowing I was about to walk upstairs and just have sex right then and there. I mean, sure, we’d been roommates at times where we’d probably had sex while the others were around, in apar
tments that were smaller than even this compact chalet. But we were mature now, sober, the last of our circle who didn’t yet have kids. And Hanna wasn’t just some dippy college girl who didn’t mean anything to anyone, she was my wife.

  I looked over at Hayden, and he gave me a big nod, looking at me with envy but also approval. As though if I could get this done, I’d be scoring one for the team. Jake gave me a similar nod of endorsement.

  He said, ‘Maybe there’ll be somebody attractive at the checkout in the store today.’

  And Hayden joked in reply, ‘Hey, you’re welcome to him. I am not going out in that, whatever.’

  I don’t know. Jake was giving him a fairly assertive look that said we are going to go out and give these guys some private time, no matter what. But Hayden was not a pushover, he was as strong-willed as anyone we knew. Hanna led me out of there as though we were sneaking away from a battlefield, I guess at least it made me feel like we weren’t quite so noticeable on the way to the stairs, even though we totally were.

  I felt a mixture of mild excitement and trepidation as I followed Hanna up the narrow wooden staircase and along the small hallway to our little bedroom. Inside, she didn’t even wait for me to close the door before she was peeling her t-shirt off, and whipping her leggings off to reveal a fairly ordinary pair of no-frills white panties.

  Chapter Two

  Hanna’s quick stripping had become a firm part of our usual abbreviated sex sessions at home, since it was pragmatic and efficient and genuinely cut to the chase. With hindsight, I’d have responded much better to slowly pulling her clothes off myself, prolonging the tease, but I didn’t really know that at the time, and this was what we were used to. Efficient. Quick.