First-Time Cuckold

by Vivi King

  “That’s right, Pete. His cock was right there where yours is! I’ve just been fucked by another man. Can you tell, Pete? Can you tell?”

  His speed and passion were increasing quickly now.

  “Fuck yes! You’re so fucking loose. Just how big is his cock?”

  I tightened as hard as my pelvic floor would allow but it had little effect.

  “It’s huge Pete! As thick as my wrist, not like your skinny little thing! He’s got a real man’s thick cock!”

  I tilted my pelvis in an attempt to increase the friction but again I was too loose and there was too

  much lubrication.

  “He’s stretched you! He’s stretched your cunt, Penny!”

  “So what are you going to do, cuckold? Your wife’s fucking another man! What are you going to do about it?”

  “Fuck you! I’m going to fuck you! You... you Slut!” he growled under his breath, his face inches above mine.

  As if spurred on by his own words, Pete’s pace increased and the room filled with the wet slapping sounds of his body striking mine.

  “How does it feel Pete? I gasped, my hands on his sides, my legs aching with the force of his thrusts. “How does it make you feel to have a Slut for a wife?”

  “Angry!” he growled back. “I feel angry.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” I hissed.

  “Fuck you! I’m going to fuck you so hard it hurts!”

  “Think you can do as well as him? Think your cock is good enough?”

  “Oh Penny!”

  He was getting more and more excited, his thrusts becoming even deeper and more violent.

  “How does it feel to have Sloppy Seconds, cuckold?” I croaked.

  “Oh fuck, Pennyyyy!”

  Pete went into a kind of angry frenzy, slamming himself into me in a way that began to really hurt. My extraordinary looseness seemed to let him even deeper into my body than usual; in desperation I tried to slow him down by closing my thighs a little to try and restrict his movements.

  Even this was only partly successful and finally I had to place my hands on his hips to try and prevent him ‘bottoming out’ inside me. The repeated violent impact of his cock on my cervix felt as if I was being punched in the belly and made me feel slightly sick.

  “How... do you... do you like this... Slut?” he growled, his muscles tense and bunched above me.

  “Ouch! Ow! Ow! Please! Please don’t hurt me!”

  I wailed in protest but in truth it was part of the game; the pain was only slight and to be honest, seeing my husband roused to such heights of jealous passion was turning me on massively too.

  “Got to cum! Gonna cum in you! Gonna cum in your cunt, Slut!”

  And then Pete seemed to lose control completely, his body slamming into mine with a violent passion that I had barely imagined existed in him. His thrusts began to come from his thighs not his hips and I felt myself being driven bodily up the bed until my head collided with the headboard. The beginnings of an orgasm began to build deep within my hips despite all that had already happened that evening, unexpectedly sending small ripples of pleasure through my belly, chest and groin.

  “Jesus, Penny! You’re cumming again!” Pete croaked as he felt my body respond.

  He redoubled his pace to try and take me over the brink and into yet another full orgasm – one I felt almost unable to bear coming so soon after Tony’s comprehensive fucking.

  “OoooowwwwwPPPPeeeeteyyyeeessSSSS!”

  Maybe my body was already over-sensitized by my previous fucking by Tony; maybe Pete’s technique as a cuckold was better than when he had a faithful wife; maybe the whole evening had taken me to a new level of abandonment. Whatever the cause, the climax that hit me at that moment was entirely different from those I had enjoyed before in our marital bed or Tony’s bed and took me completely by surprise.

  The pulse of pleasure and pain rippled outwards as if from a place deeper inside me than Tony's stubby cock could ever reach, my chest tightened and spasms rocked my body.

  “Cum for me Penny! Cum like the Slut you are!”

  Pete’s voice was little more than a croak as his rhythm broke, his thrusts became wild and violent and he slammed into me with a ferocity I hadn’t expected from him.

  “Noooo! Pleeeaseee!” I wailed as a second pulse surged after the first, my exhausted body unable to take any more.

  “Fuck you! Fuck you Penny! Fuck you, you Cheating Slut.”

  Pete’s thrusts were short, sharp and painfully deep but this level of violence could never last long. Within a minute and blessedly before I could reach yet another climax I saw his face twist and contort as his own orgasm began. His body went into spasm and his hips ground so hard against mine that I cried out loud in a mind-fuddling mixture of pleasure and pain, feeling his teeth sink into the lower right side of my neck as my newly-cuckolded husband began to ejaculate very noisily inside me.

  “Yes! Oh, yes! Oh fucking yes!”

  Pete’s voice was hard and triumphant as his semen cascaded into my vagina, joining what was left of my Tony’s in the third ejaculation I had received in only a few hours; as if by this simple, primeval action he had reclaimed me, his errant unfaithful wife and made me his once again.

  By the time it was all over and Pete had done all he needed to do to me, it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. After the noise violence of our coupling the room felt unnaturally still apart from the sounds of two middle-aged people panting for breath.

  “Wow!” Pete eventually gasped. “Jesus Penny, that was... that was the best!”

  I couldn’t reply. My body was reeling from the onslaughts of two strong, fit men in a short period of time; my mind was spinning from too many orgasms.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, rolling onto his side to look at me.

  “I’m okay,” I replied, smiling across at my amazing husband. “How do you feel?”

  “About what exactly?” he grinned.

  “About... about all of it?” I said, my voice still a little slurred. “Was it all a mistake? Are we still together?”

  He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before replying.

  “Penn, it was... like nothing I’ve ever experienced before,” he said as if uncertain. “I’m pretty sure a husband isn’t supposed to feel the way I felt when you were with him, knowing what the two of you were doing.”

  “How did you feel?”

  “It’s hard to describe. The pain of knowing you were cheating on me was almost unbearable but the arousal that came with it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I wanted desperately to be there with you; to watch you doing it; to see you being fucked, to see you cum on another man’s cock. And when I saw you afterwards and your cunt was actually red and gaping, the whole reality rushed in on me. I just had to have you there and then, whatever you wanted.”

  I winced again at his casual use of the ‘c’ word. This really was something new.

  “You made me cum too,” I reminded him softly. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

  “I know. In many ways it’s been great - for both of us. In other ways it’s been dreadful. Sometimes I feel elated, more aroused than I’ve ever felt. Sometimes I feel ashamed; disgusted with myself. I’m sorry; I’m very mixed up right now.”

  I steeled myself to ask the important question.

  “Are you mixed up enough to want me to stop seeing him?”

  The pause was long and terrible before my husband finally spoke.

  “Let’s run with it for a while longer, shall we? See what happens?”

  We kissed long and slowly. Once again I could taste the post-ejaculation flavor in his mouth and presumably he could taste something in mine.

  “I’m shattered,” I sighed when we finally came up for air.

  “Need a shower?” he asked. “I know I do.”

  “Let’s just sleep, Pete. I’ll change the sheets tomorrow.”

  We fell asleep curled up like
two spoons in a drawer, still naked and still sticky.

  ***

  It felt like hell on earth when the alarm went off at six-thirty the following morning and we had to get up.

  I was so tired; my body was messy and groaned at me, especially my hips which had been stretched into so many unaccustomed positions. My tummy ached badly; Pete’s cock is slim but really long and the violence of his lovemaking must have pummeled my cervix hard. Between my thighs was really sore too but these ‘problems’ merely served to remind me of the massive and exciting way my life had just changed.

  Our lives I should have said!

  I shuffled through to the en suite bathroom and looked apprehensively in the mirror. What I saw was still recognizably me but not a ‘me’ I would like to see often. My hair was everywhere, I had forgotten to take off my make-up which was now smeared all over my face but worst of all there was a large brown ‘hickey’ on my lower neck where Pete had bitten me. I was cross about this but said nothing. Apart from hurting, I looked like I’d been bitten by a vampire or, more likely, a teen after an ‘eighties disco. I thanked God that it was winter and high necklines were commonplace.

  However, a warm, healing shower and a wash later I was feeling much improved and Pete and I went through our normal morning routine as if the previous evening hadn’t happened. He was happy and cheerful with a spring in his step that my own exhaustion couldn’t match.

  I had to admit that in this buoyant mood, he looked even more attractive than usual.

  But the biggest and most unexpected delight was that there was no ‘atmosphere’ between us at all; no recriminations, no accusations or jealous outbursts. We were still very much married – if anything there was a buzz of excitement in the air that I hadn’t known for many years.

  Unusually for a weekday, we ate breakfast together too, a really companionable, if disappointingly brief interlude which was sweet for us both. Pete poured orange juice and made toast. There was too little time to talk about the previous evening but from the few words we did exchange on the subject I could tell he was still happy.

  And so was I. The future looked quite undeservedly bright.

  My first Official Hotwife Date had been a success.

  7

  The buzz of excitement that followed my first Official Hotwife Date was almost tangible.

  Though my affair was well over a month old, Monday evening’s date had been the first time my lover and I had met with my husband’s full knowledge; the first time he had fucked me with Pete’s not- entirely-unreserved-but-helplessly-excited acquiescence.

  After over a year of almost nightly persuasion, my husband had finally ‘got what he wished for’ and now his formerly-faithful wife of over twenty years was actually having sex with another man. Not just in our bedroom fantasies; not just in his overactive imagination; this time another man’s erect cock was actually penetrating my body on a regular basis, making my husband a cuckold while delivering some of the best sex of my entire life.

  I had confessed my adultery in bed one Sunday night in December when my previously secret affair with Tony, one of our closest family friends was nearly five weeks old. The confession had been as unplanned as the affair and had nearly cost me my marriage but, after one night in the spare room and two more somewhere I was yet to discover, my extraordinary husband had returned.

  In probably the most emotional conversation of our long relationship, Pete had not only accepted that he bore some responsibility for my infidelity but that, under some conditions, he could accept it. To my amazement, my husband had told me I could continue to meet and fuck my new lover.

  To borrow a phrase from my writing; I had become a Hotwife and my husband a Cuckold.

  Monday had been the first time Tony and I had met under these new conditions. Pete had helped me get ready for my date and had even insisted on driving me to my assignation. Hours later, pale and trembling, he had picked me up from Tony's apartment, dishevelled, freshly-fucked and with another man’s semen literally oozing into my panties.

  Pete had inspected my well-used body carefully in our bedroom afterwards, his eyes wide in horrified excitement as the reality of what had happened rushed in on him. His wife of over twenty years really was having sex with another man; the evidence of infidelity on my body had been unmistakeable. Although Pete had been disappointed at the lack of bodily fluids between my thighs, my gaping red vagina had been clear proof both of my recent insemination and of the considerable disparity in girth between my two lovers’ erect cocks.

  Pete had then had taken me so wildly and so forcefully that, in a mix of pleasure and pain, I had enjoyed the first orgasms at his hands for nearly a year, after which my husband had added his semen to my lover’s inside my body.

  Later, Pete told me in no uncertain terms that the time between dropping me off and picking me up had been both the best and worst times of his life. The hours of agony had been almost unbearable; knowing I was being touched by another man’s hands; that my lips were being kissed by another man’s lips, that my body was being invaded by another man’s cock; that another man’s semen was being pumped into the place only his should ever be.

  When I had joined him in the car afterwards he looked like a man who had starred into the mouth of Hell. But he had told me in bed afterwards that along with the agony of this torment had come a level of arousal he had barely glimpsed before, even during our fantasies. The sickening feeling in his belly and the steel-grey dullness of pain in his mind had been accompanied by some of the most powerful erotic images and emotions imaginable.

  As he had told me in a hushed voice, the blend of agony and ecstasy had been exquisite.

  I have to say that when I got back into the car after my date having just received two doses of Tony’s semen and looked at my cuckolded husband’s face, it was hard to see any sign of ecstasy. Evidence of agony was there in abundance; Pete had looked simply terrible; pale and ghostly. His hands were trembling on the steering wheel, he could barely speak and for a long time he couldn’t bring himself to look at my face.

  As we drove through the dark streets back to our home I wondered whether our marriage could ever recover from what had just occurred. But to my relief, once we were back in our bedroom and my husband had reclaimed me physically and violently, it quickly became clear that not only had the evening been an unexpected success, there would probably be more evenings like it.

  So my first Official Hotwife Date had gone well. There was a lot to learn but we were still married and ready to learn our lessons together.

  ***

  Work was really busy throughout the Tuesday, but Pete and I managed to exchange a few texts as we went along. From the tone of his messages it was clear that he was having at least as much difficulty concentrating as I was. I exchanged a few messages with Tony too. Predictably he was keen to know how Pete had taken the whole thing but I didn’t tell him any more than he needed for reassurance.

  Though both men now in some way owned my body, only my husband owned my soul.

  It felt really strange being in the normal environment of work all day, trying to appear the same outwardly when my personal life was going through such a transformation. Once or twice when I was most distracted, colleagues asked me if everything was alright. I’m sure I flushed pink every time but fortunately at my age this could be put down to the menopause. Whenever I went to the Ladies Room I looked in the mirror for signs of having become a fallen woman too but apart from the carefully concealed ‘hickey’ on my neck there were none.

  Why I should feel more exposed having become a Hotwife than I had felt when I was having an affair is a mystery – it was with the same man after all - but that’s how I was all day. It really did feel as if I had become a character in one of my stories, the big difference of course being that this time, I couldn’t simply decide what the ending was going to be and make it so.

  I had to live this Hotwife life for real!

  When I got home that evening, Pet
e had bought me flowers and was cooking a meal, something that hadn’t happened for a long time. Over dinner, at his insistence, we talked about my date again and again, Pete asking for more and more detail each time. For me it was exciting to re-live the evening and to know my husband really was alright about it.

  Though it was clearly painful for him to hear, Pete kept asking how much bigger Tony’s cock was than his, how it had felt to be stretched by it and how it made me feel now. As of that morning the answer was clear; it had been really great at the time but I was sore, my hips ached and my tummy was in some discomfort now.

  He wanted to know intimate details about what Tony had done to me in bed too, what I did to him in return and in what way Tony’s technique was better than his own. He asked how many times I had climaxed, how strong the orgasms had been and what I had said when I came. Had I talked dirty? What did I want to do with Tony next?

  The truth was that after my first climax very early on, most of the sex was just a blur, albeit a wonderful, sensual blur in which I came several times more. In the end, I was forced to invent a few naughty stories just to get Pete off my back.

  I also had to explain that I hadn’t gone to bed with a tape measure under the pillow just to measure my lover’s cock and report back to my husband! Perhaps all men are like this but the way Pete asked and asked was almost self-flagellation on his part; as if he wanted the pain; he wanted to hear how much better a lover Tony was and how much bigger his cock was!

  If I’ had thought about it, all this was quite in keeping with one of my very earliest online discoveries; that cuckolding was actually a form of masochism for the man concerned. Certainly the way my husband was behaving suggested this was right in his case but my husband’s insistence on knowing everything was, if nothing else, exhausting. It was actually a relief when the phone rang and Pete, who was ‘on-call’ at the hospital, was summoned in.

  After he had gone to work I had the house to myself; peace at last, and a little time for reflection about what had happened and of course what might happen next.