The hottest hotwife authors play The Hotwife Games. Six couples gather at an isolated mansion after receiving an irresistible invitation to compete for prizes in pursuing pleasure beyond their wildest dreams. Marcia pushes Tim’s limits as he watches her used by bulls she could only imagine because she’s daring enough to play The Hotwife Games-Inexhaustible. ~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~ Nothing happened for a while, and I guessed that the sight of the first two guys sent away so quickly had cooled the atmosphere around Marcia. Then, a man about our age approached her. He looked like a former athlete who had not let himself go to seed. He was dressed casually, and he was a big guy. Well over six feet tall, with bulging biceps, a hard chest, and a narrow waist. They talked together in a flirting way, and when the time seemed right, I strolled toward the elevators. My timing was perfect as I arrived simultaneously with my wife and Dennis. We all boarded the elevator car when it arrived. My wife’s new friend pressed a button and politely asked my floor so he could press the button for me. I told him we appeared to be on the same floor and stood back. That was my wife’s clue to make her move. By the time the elevator came to a stop, Marcia had her lips glued to his and her leg wrapped around his body. I hung back before following them; I held a white credit card that looked like one of the hotel's room keys. I carefully noted their room number and continued down the hallway before turning around. I strolled past their room and was rewarded with the sound of my wife’s moans. I listened for a minute before climbing into the elevator and returning to the bar to wait. While I waited, a well-dressed man sat down and slid an envelope to me. “What’s this?” I asked. “I’ve been watching you and your wife, and I think the contents of this envelope will interest you, and if it doesn’t, just burn it. No harm done.” I watched as he turned and walked away, My cell rang seconds before last call, and I caught up with my wife by the valet stand. She hadn’t zipped up her dress, and the front had come down, exposing her left breast. Her eyes were glazed, and white cream ran down her leg and into her shoe. “How was it?” I asked, unable to wait. Marcia’s head swung slowly toward me. Her eyes focused on me but lacked comprehension. It was a strange, almost humorous look for someone so elegant. “What did you say?” She asked. “I asked how it was,” I said again. My wife stood up straighter and pressed her thighs together before she could answer. “I’ll try to tell you when we get home.” I put my hand on Marcia’s leg as we drove away, and the warmth and wetness of her thigh felt like it was burning my fingers. I’d almost forgotten the envelope in my pocket, but now it was burning too. The following morning, as Marcia slept, I sat outside and opened the envelope.