by Vivi King
I agreed to this too but not without misgivings. Could I really tell my husband all the things Tony and I did in bed? If I wanted my affair to continue, I had to.
The third rule was that my affair must stop immediately if either of us felt that it was becoming a threat to our marriage or if Pete ever asked me to stop for any other reason. This would be much more difficult but I agreed to it apprehensively, still amazed that we could discuss something so deeply personal in such an objective manner.
Pete insisted that, while we were all getting used to the idea, I should sleep with my lover not more than once a week. This was much less often than Tony and I had been seeing each other but when offered by my husband it felt generous.
Tony would have to agree; if he wanted me, I would give him no choice.
I accepted Pete’s conditions unreservedly and immediately. He then took me immediately with a
passion we hadn’t enjoyed for many years, forcing me onto my back across the kitchen table and ramming my night gown under my armpits. He spread my legs forcefully then penetrated my unprepared body so rapidly and with such force and energy that within minutes I was weeping moisture and having the first vaginal orgasm I had enjoyed with my husband for nearly a year. And all before breakfast on a Wednesday morning!
I had called Tony from my car on the way to work and told him the news. He could barely believe his ears. I could barely believe my own as I explained it all. He wasn’t at all pleased that we could only see each other once each week but there was no disguising his relief at not having an angry, jealous husband to deal with and the joy in his voice when he learned that our affair could continue was almost palpable.
Pete now speaks of that day as my first as a Hotwife, a word I hadn’t heard him use before. Clearly I wasn’t the only one investigating cuckoldry on the internet. For me, the day was spent in a surreal half-dream. Unsurprisingly I was late for work then struggled to retain some kind of normality throughout the morning. The soreness between my legs caused by Pete’s dry penetration was a constant remainder of our encounter, as were the small bruises on my lower back from the kitchen table where his thrusts had driven me bodily into its hard top.
Pete was already home when I pulled into the driveway. After a somewhat awkward kiss ‘hello’ I went up to the bedroom to change out of my suit. Pete brought us both gin and tonics and, as we both shed our work clothes the surreal conversation continued. I half expected him to want to take me violently again and silently thanked God when he didn’t; my soreness from the morning’s assault was still considerable.
We cooked and ate dinner together. At various times during the evening one or other of us coming up with another concern about our ‘new arrangement’ that needed to be discussed. So we discussed it, in a mature adult way, we discussed my continued adultery openly. And the more we talked, calmly and seriously about how I should have sex with another man, the easier it became to come to terms with.
By bedtime to my astonishment we had grown used to talking about my infidelity as if it was both an established fact and, more bizarrely, as if it was entirely normal for a married couple. And it was only the first day!
Needless to say our foreplay that night was dominated by detailed questions about my lovemaking with Tony; how big he was, how good it felt; what did he do that l liked; what did I do that he liked? All of which I answered openly and honestly even when my words were clearly painful for my husband to hear.
And afterwards, as Pete reared up over me and his body slammed repeatedly and painfully into mine with a passion not even our most vivid fantasies had produced, I began to understand that, this time at least, my husband Pete was happy and had finally, if unexpectedly 'got what he had wished for'.
And, to my surprise, so had I.
***
Incredibly, the rest of the week began as if nothing had changed. Normality was enforced by the usual pre-Christmas busy period at work and the need to buy presents for family and friends. Abnormality came from the plans we were making to help us deal with what was to become our new lifestyle.
Many times I had to pinch myself – or ask Pete to do it for me – to make sure it wasn’t all just a dream. But it was real; or at least it was about to become real.
Tony’s kids were coming home for a family birthday at the weekend so, after a number of text exchanges my first ‘Official Hotwife Date’ as Pete put it was set for Monday evening. It felt extremely strange to be able to arrange it openly after all the secrecy and subterfuge of the last six weeks. As we talked and especially as I arranged my next date in front of him, Pete seemed to go through every extremity of emotion from fear through jealousy to anger and back
But these painful emotions were all accompanied by obvious and powerful feelings of arousal as his almost constant erection amply demonstrated.
The surreal days passed; I could feel both the excitement and apprehension on both our parts growing as my date grew closer. I spent longer and longer online too, corresponding with my real life cuckold friends. I told them I was researching a new storyline but in fact I was trying to find out how best to keep my husband happy while I was on my date.
Doing this without letting them know that my stories had now come to life; that I was now in a similar position myself wasn’t easy. My friends might be cuckolds but they were all educated, intelligent, generous and caring men. I’m pleased to say that their advice, though sparing, continued to be startlingly accurate.
On Saturday, Pete and I went shopping in the nearby city searching for family presents but with another agenda too. As well as Christmas shopping we bought a new, very short Little Black Dress for me and some new black undies; tiny panties, stockings (not tights), a lacy bra and suspender belt.
In the evening I tried them on in front of Pete with my highest, tartiest red heels. I must say they made me feel very sexy indeed and certainly had the desired effect on my husband.
Remembering all my online friends had told me, I told Pete that he couldn’t have sex with me for three days before my date, however much he wanted to. He wanted to a lot and sulked at first at my refusal but then, as my advisors had predicted, his attitude changed. After a day or so Pete seemed almost pleased to be denied my body and to be given firm, clear rules. He brightened up considerably when I promised him as many hand-jobs as he needed to relieve his tension but that would be as far as it went.
To be honest, keeping him away was hard for me too given the way I felt about him but I was trying to remember all the good advice I had gleaned. After all, if I was going to get what I wanted from this new lifestyle it was only right that Pete should too, even if he didn’t yet know exactly what that was.
***
It seemed an age before the alarm clock rang early on Monday morning, announcing a new day, a new week and of course, the imminent arrival of my first Official Hotwife Date (the way Pete talked about it, nothing but capital letters would do). I was as excited as a child before her birthday treat and tried to distract myself by getting dressed in as unsexy clothes as I could find and concentrating on work.
That was easier said than done. At the hospital, the hours ticked away so slowly that I was glad of the distractions a busy organization could provide but eventually the clock on my wall told me it was time to go home. My tummy ached with anticipation as I drove too quickly through the darkness back towards my husband and my first ‘official’ date.
Both men had texted me a dozen times throughout the day to make sure all was still ‘on’ for that evening. I don't think Tony could quite believe Pete was okay about it all, the two of them having been close friends for so many years but I couldn’t see any real hesitation on Pete's part - at least not then! I arrived home just after six o’clock. Pete returned about an hour later which was early for both of us. It was obvious we were both excited and nervous – Pete was behaving very strangely – so I asked him straight out if he wanted me to call it all off.
I truly believe at that stage I would have cancelled if he had as
ked me to but he didn’t; he immediately and emphatically said that he wanted me to go and I believed him.
He was clearly anxious, whatever he said so to try and keep him occupied I asked him (again as my online friends had suggested) to help me get ready by running a bath. Pete seemed pleased to have
something to do so I went up to the bedroom and laid on the bed my new LBD, black silky bra, panties, stockings and suspender belt, and the killer red heels that I hardly ever wore.
He was clearly still nervous when I joined him in the bathroom but insisted he was okay. We chatted in a surreal, nervous way as I had a long, slow soak, shaved my legs and armpits and trimmed my bikini line. I carefully washed my hair then went through to the bedroom where I sat at my dressing table wrapped in a big white towel drying it noisily.
Pete watched me; studying me intently most of the time which made me nervous. I told him so and he went downstairs, returning with two glasses of champagne before sitting on the bed and watching me some more.
My heart ached for him and for a moment I really felt like backing out; like calling Tony and telling him it had all been a mistake. Then I remembered another important thing my cuckold friends had advised; the need to reward my husband for his wonderful attitude. So, before getting dressed, I crossed to the bed where he sat watching.
“You look amazing,” he whispered as I perched on the mattress alongside him still in my towel.
“No! You’re amazing, Pete,” I replied, touching my champagne glass to his. “Are you sure you can go through with this?”
He seemed to think for a minute before replying.
“I think I need to. I think we both need to. However I feel now, it’s sort of my ultimate fantasy coming true. I think we both need to try it once or we’ll never know, will we?”
“I don’t want you to be hurt or upset,” I said softly.
“Neither do I,” he laughed ironically. “And I was upset to learn you’d been fucking him for a month in secret. No! Don’t worry! I’m over that now,” he cut off my protest and smiled. “In a way it made it easier for me; as if the decision had already been taken out of my hands. You already knew what another man’s cock felt like. It wasn’t down to me to make you try it for the first time any more.”
The logic was twisted but I understood it in a way.
“But you do just want to see him for a fuck, don’t you?” he asked directly. “It’s just the fucking that you want, not the relationship?”
I winced inside at his liberal use of the ‘f’ word but he was right; I didn’t really want romance or love with Tony, though I wasn’t naïve enough to ignore the risk of that developing. Right now all I wanted was sex, and the greater the sex, the better! I wanted to be fucked again by that thick, stubby cock that stretched me so wonderfully tight and made me feel so young and attractive again.
“Yes Pete. I do want Tony to fuck me again!”
Desperately trying to remember all I had learned about cuckolds, I chose my words deliberately. Be clear; be precise; don’t give him any room for doubt but don’t ever humiliate him. Pete paused again.
“Is he better than me? No, don’t answer that!”
Knowing that the truth was likely to hurt, I didn’t even try and reply. Instead I placed my hand on his upper thigh and murmured:
“Perhaps if I just...”
I began to slowly massage my husband’s groin, my fingers pressing through his tight jeans intending to give him one of the promised hand jobs to relieve at least some of his tension. I gripped his upper thigh; he opened his legs a little so I slid my hand between his legs to cup his cock and balls.
“Penny...”
“Shh! Relax!”
Pete leaned back on the bed, propped on his elbows and watched my face as I carefully flicked open his belt and button, lowered his zipper and slipped my hand inside his shorts where his warm, soft penis and scrotum were waiting for my touch.
“Oh, Penny,” he hissed as I eased his jeans and tight shorts down over his buttocks to his upper thighs.
Pete’s long, slim cock flopped onto his lower belly. I took it gently in my fingers and began to massage its flaccid shaft, my other hand cupping his sack and running his balls between my fingers.
“That feels good,” he moaned.
I pulled the foreskin back from its smooth head and lowered my face to his groin though I didn’t take his cock into my mouth. Instead, I blew on its tip and drew my tongue across the tiny lips on top of his
smooth head, my hand rising and falling on the still-soft shaft beneath.
“Mmmmm,” he sighed, his eyes closing.
My husband’s warm, handsome face was raised to the ceiling and showed every sign of pleasure but there was no sign of his cock hardening in my hand. I pumped it more vigorously, squeezing with each rise and fall of my fist and was rewarded with a slight firming of his shaft but no proper erection.
“Oh no! Not that please!” he whispered, clearly becoming distressed. The slight hardness immediately vanished. “Please, no!”
“Relax,” I purred. “Leave it to me!”
I worked on his flaccid cock for several more minutes, giving him the best technique I could remember, using every trick I had learned from my lover as well as all those Pete knew well. This time my fingers and tongue were all brought into play but despite my best efforts it just wasn’t working; my husband’s cock remained stubbornly soft in my hand.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “Let’s forget it.”
This kind of erection failure was very rare indeed for Pete and made me realize just how tense he was. We were both embarrassed as I let his soft flesh slip through my fingers and rose to my feet beside him.
“No! I’m sorry, Pete,” I replied softly as he clumsily slipped his useless cock back into his shorts and struggled to zip up his trousers, “I should have thought. It’s a tough time for you. We’re both learning something new, I guess.”
Partly to cover up his and my embarrassment, I went back into the bathroom to adjust my make-up and give Pete time to dress himself properly. When I returned, he had refilled the champagne glasses and was waiting for me expectantly.
Remembering another tip from my cuckold pen-pals, I asked Pete to help me dress for my lover. Though at first puzzled, he responded really well as I asked his advice. Were my arms and legs smooth enough for Tony? Was my pubic hair neatly enough trimmed? Did I smell fresh and clean enough for my lover?
Bizarrely, this seemed to help Pete’s anxiety. At least it gave him something to do other than just watch.
Encouraged, I asked him to bring me my clothes item by item as I slowly and carefully dressed in front of him, asking his advice at every stage on whether it looked right. Although of course I didn’t need it, I made a great play of asking for help fastening my new bra, making sure my stockings and suspenders were straight, choosing and pulling on the right pair of panties and finally zipping up my dress.
To my relief, Pete seemed very pleased to play his part and I soon felt very sexy indeed, preparing for my lover in the full expectation of having great sex very soon - without the guilt that had always accompanied my affair.
Eventually it was time to go. I posed for a last minute check in front of the full-length mirror, turning from left to right as Pete inspected me all around. He seemed strangely proud of me as he inspected my hair, clothes, make up and ear rings. He then fastened a necklace around my throat and my bracelet around my wrist before pronouncing me ‘drop dead gorgeous’ and going downstairs to get my coat and scarf.
I took one last look at myself in the mirror and smiled. Not too bad for a women in her fifties, I thought but silently promised myself to spend a lot more time in the gym in future. Then, my heart thumping, I descended to the hallway where my husband was waiting with my overcoat over his arm.
To my surprise, Pete had insisted on driving me round to Tony’s apartment and had been equally insistent that he would pick me up afterwards saying it wouldn’t be good to have
the neighbors see my car parked outside Tony’s all evening. I had warned him I might be quite late but he said me he would be waiting outside from eleven-thirty onwards and I mustn’t worry about him as long as I enjoyed myself.
He did remind me that I had promised to tell him every detail he wanted to know about what Tony and I had done. I blushed but then reminded him in turn that he must not masturbate while I was away or it would spoil everything for both of us when I returned.
Pete nodded his agreement like a sulky schoolboy and I began to understand what so many of my real life cuckold friends had meant. Perverse or not, there was no denying that me being firm in all things sexually really was part of the pleasure for him, even if he didn’t realize it yet.
***
The journey from our house to Tony’s apartment took twenty frustratingly slow minutes and was spent in total silence. Every few seconds Pete would glance across at me; at my hair, my tiny boobs,
my too-short and too-tight dress and the large expanse of my stocking-covered thighs that it revealed. His staring began to make me nervous and the tension in the car built so rapidly as we closed in on the address that eventually I wondered whether he would lose his nerve and ask me not to go after all.
But he didn’t; to his continued credit, Pete’s nerve held though I could see his hands trembling and he gripped the steering wheel excessively hard. A few minutes later we pulled slowly and silently into the car park outside Tony’s apartment block. Pete switched off the engine and leaned back in his seat, breathing heavily and staring out of the windscreen.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly. He nodded but still didn’t speak. “I’ll be a couple of hours at least,” I told him as matter-of-factly as I could. “What will you do? Promise me you won’t just wait here!”
He turned towards me and smiled self-deprecatingly. “I’ll be okay. I’ll probably go for a run or walk the dog or something.”
“No masturbating either, remember?” I scolded him jokingly in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.
It didn’t work.