First-Time Cuckold

by Vivi King

  I literally gasped as he posed like a body builder before me; showing off the most impressive physique I had ever been close to; powerful muscles, flat stomach, bulging biceps and shoulders, lean powerful legs.

  And a bulge in his boxers that made me stare.

  I was still staring as I fell to my knees in front of him, still in my pale work knickers and dark tights, raised my fingers to his waistband and swallowed nervously. I looked up into his young, surprisingly innocent-looking eyes and slowly lowered his boxers to his knees.

  The erect cock that sprang to immediate attention only inches from my face was impressive; not as long as my husband’s snake, not as thick as Tony’s ugly stubby appendage, it was as close to being a thing of beauty as the male organ can ever get – which I’m afraid isn’t very close.

  I took it in my fingers and toyed with it, running my fingertips up and down its length before taking it in my fist and pumping my hand up and down.

  “Mmmm! Penny that’s good!” Darren moaned softly above me.

  He moaned louder and longer when I licked and sucked its smooth, rounded head and when I took it deep into my mouth, his hands were in my hair and his hips were moving slowly back and forth as the sighs of pleasure filled the room.

  I truly believe that the blowjob I delivered that night was the best of my life, before or since. Something about Darren brought out both the mother and the whore in me; I really cared what he thought about my prowess in bed; I really wanted to make him feel good; to enjoy his time with me.

  I felt almost abandoned when he pulled himself away and his cock fell from my lips. But then he took my hands in his, raised me to my feet, kissed me long, deep and slowly for a long time before slowly lowering me to the unmade bed.

  I looked up at my Adonis as he loomed over me, his hands making short work of my ugly tights and knickers, leaving me naked and vulnerable under his powerful body. He mounted the bed, lowered his body until his hips brushed against mine and the heat of his chest brushed against my painfully erect nipples.

  Looking deep into his eyes, I reached down between my thighs, took his rock-hard shaft in my hand and slowly directed its smooth, swollen end into my well-prepared body.

  As Darren’s twenty-nine year old cock slipped smoothly and easily into the welcoming over-sized vagina through which three children now almost his age had been born, nothing else in the world mattered at all.

  Nothing Pete or Tony had done compared with the sheer youthful energy with which Darren fucked me that night. His technique was crude; foreplay had hardly featured but I didn’t care; my body was ready for him without it. He didn’t need to be expert; he didn’t even need to be good. He certainly didn’t need to tell me he loved me; all Darren needed was to be young and to want me that night despite the thirty year difference in our ages.

  And he did want me, that much was certain. As I felt his shaft sliding past my loose, lubricated entrance and my body began to fill with his, I dimly wondered how many other women had lain in the same place, in the same position, offering themselves in the same brazen manner and feeling the same wonderful sensations in their bellies.

  To my astonishment I didn’t care; I was almost keen to join his long list of conquests; eager to add my married name to the notches on his bedpost. But as his shaft penetrated deeper and deeper into my vagina, those thoughts became vague and unformed. And when that long, thick shaft had buried itself so deep in my body that I could feel its end forcing my cervix into my belly, I was a lost cause.

  I had not been in bed with a twenty-nine year old boy since my husband had been that age. I had never been in bed with a boy for whom physical prowess was a career as well as a pleasure. I had no concept of the energy and enthusiasm with which I was to be fucked that night or the way my body

  would respond.

  The first orgasm struck within two dozen strokes of Darren’s cock, making me squeal as much in surprise as in pleasure. The second came so soon after that the two merged into one long convulsive spasm, beginning deep between my thighs and spreading outwards like the mushroom cloud from an atom bomb.

  The breeding frenzy overwhelmed me as soon as my breath returned, wrapping my arms around his powerful, gym-strengthened shoulders and my legs round his thighs – thighs which seemed tireless as they drove his hips forwards and his shaft pistoned in and out of my body.

  I wailed my wanton lust into the stale air of the room, begging him not to stop; to fuck me deeper, harder, faster. He obliged with a crude smile on his boyish face, the wet slapping sound of two bodies colliding joined by the loud creaking of the springs on a cheap bed.

  If I had thought sex with Tony was the best I could get, it only served to show how inexperienced I really was. As Darren’s thrusts grew faster and less controlled and his first climax approached I began to call his name in my frenzy, begging him to cum inside me, to fill me with his seed and, yes, even to make a baby in my married belly.

  When his tension broke, his body went into spasm and his ejaculation began to fill my middle aged body with youthful semen, my surrender was complete. Raking his arms and shoulders with my fingers, grabbing his buttocks and pulling them hard into me; wrapping my skinny legs around his thighs to hold him in my body forever, I knew I would never be the same again.

  It was simply incredible. Our first fuck had not lasted long but as I lay alongside him on the dirty sheets, my body full of his sperm it felt as if my life had been changed.

  But the night had only just begun.

  Until that evening, all my lovers had been my own age; I had forgotten how quickly a much younger man’s body could recover after ejaculation and how long he could last in bed. The first sticky pool of Darren’s semen could hardly have settled against my cervix before his cock had hardened again and his body was rising over mine.

  My mind dulled by the combined effects of alcohol, lust and post-orgasmic daze, I lost count of the number of times that boy fucked my skinny, middle aged body that night. I remember being on all fours at one time, I remember the bitter taste of my own juices on his smooth head as I took it into my mouth. I remember him trying and failing to take my anal virginity – the sharp pain was enough to

  bring that memory back vividly.

  I remember falling asleep on him, totally exhausted, his hard cock still being thrust into my sore, gaping pussy.

  Poor Darren; at the end it must have felt like he was fucking a corpse.

  ***

  It was the early Friday sun shining through his cheap, thin curtains that woke me the following morning. When I opened my eyes, saw the squalid surroundings, the muscular young man in bed next to me and realised just how foolish I had been, the shame began to wash over me.

  To my surprise, there was guilt too. Although I was, as my husband had insisted, free as a bird and could sleep with anyone I wanted, I should still have let my brain drive my body not the other way round, as appeared to have happened.

  I turned to the sleeping form on my left. The boy looked beautiful, I had to confess; toned, fit, strong, attractive and, it appeared, completely without scruples where married women were concerned.

  But I couldn’t put the blame on him; if anyone had precipitated the night’s sexual athletics it was me. Darren had been pleasingly keen to have access to my body – that of a woman old enough to be his mother – but I could not in all honestly say that he had in any way been forced to seduce me.

  And when we were in bed together it had been simply amazing. If I thought sex with Tony had been good, a night of copulation with a man half his age had opened my eyes wide and my thighs wider! I no longer wondered why Julie had let their apparently ill-matched relationship go on so long; the evidence was there in my stiff, aching and rather sore body.

  Were all young men like this? I had forgotten just how much energy a man in his twenties could have!

  I reached down between my legs; my lower belly and upper thighs were a sticky, smelly mess. Just how much semen could a young man pro
duce? And how often? I ran my fingers along my sore slit and over my pubic mound.

  Oh God! In my misery, I hadn’t shaved my pussy since my aborted date with Tony on Monday and there was a distinct covering of stubble over most of my vulva. My face burned with embarrassment. At least it hadn’t have put my young lover off much, not if the state of my body was anything to go by.

  I stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, at the cobwebs and dust that filled the yellowing corners and at the peeling wallpaper over the curtain rail. There was a low smell of damp beneath the odour of unwashed clothes too. It really was a squalid place in which to have spent the night with a new lover but Darren’s performance had dominating my senses so completely that at the time it hadn’t mattered.

  In daylight the next day, it all looked much less exciting. I wondered whether Julie had spent many nights in Darren’s bed. It explained why he had moved into her family house. I wondered what my colleagues at work would think if they knew their boss had been fucked by a boy not much more than half her age in a bed that hadn’t seen clean sheets for many weeks.

  My colleagues! Oh shit! It was Friday and I had to go to work!

  I looked at my watch. Seven thirty. Shit!

  If I left straightaway there might just be time to get home, wash, change and get to work in time for the morning’s first meeting. Going to my office with the smell of recent sex on my body was unthinkable so I rolled out of bed and began to pull on those pieces of clothing I could find amongst the chaos on the bedroom floor.

  My body ached from Darren’s over-energetic assault, my stubbly pussy was once more pink from overuse but I had to get out of there quickly. Darren’s slow, regular breathing hardly faltered as I dressed. I was pleased; the last thing I wanted was a morning after encounter with my latest seducer – and I wasn’t entirely sure I would be able to resist if he offered one more fuck ‘for the road’.

  As my hand reached for the bedroom door, a feeling of dread washed over me. I had squealed and wailed throughout the night, calling out with every penetration; every insemination; every climax, however, small or large – and there had been many.

  Darren shared the house with two other young men. If they had been home there was no conceivable way they would not have heard. One was another trainer at the gym who I knew by sight if not by name.

  A cold fear passed through me along with horrible memories from my youth. Was I about to take the ‘walk of shame’ through Darren’s shared house? To leave with his friends watching his latest conquest sneaking away, knowing she was married and old enough to be his mother?

  Was I about to acquire a similar nickname to my daughter who was now known at University as ‘Izzy-

  Oh-God’ following her orgasmic exclamations?

  Could I escape without being seen or recognised? And if I did, would Darren kiss-and-tell anyway?

  There was no choice; the longer I waited, the more likely I was to be spotted. I had to take the risk. Tiptoeing to the door I turned the handle then, taking one last look at my beautiful sleeping fuck- buddy, I opened the door and slipped into the corridor outside.

  I could hear a radio playing in a nearby bedroom. The door was closed so I tiptoed past and begin to descend the stairs in my bare feet. When I reached the tiny hallway, I could hear the familiar sounds of the BBC news coming from the kitchen. Someone must be preparing breakfast, I thought. They would be occupied; if I took another few steps perhaps I could open the front door and make my escape unseen.

  I took another quick look into the room but could see no-one. I slipped my shoes on, walked silently to the front door, turned the handle and pulled.

  It didn’t open. I turned the handle the other way and pulled. That didn’t work either.

  “You need the key to open it,” came a voice from behind me.

  I span round to find a tall young man standing in the kitchen doorway. He was perhaps a few years younger than Darren, bare-chested, bare footed and wearing jeans.

  “Oh... um... “ I stammered.

  There was no possible way he could fail to understand my presence in his house. I began to panic.

  “I’ve... I’ve got to get to work,” I began.

  “No problem,” he smiled knowingly, reaching past me and putting a key in the lock. He turned it, there was a click and the door opened a crack.

  “Do you need a lift? I could drop you off,” he offered cheerfully. ”I’m Will by the way.”

  The thought of being in a confined space with one young man when my body must have reeked of all the sex I had just had with another was too much.

  “My car’s round the corner,” I lied. “But thanks anyway, Will.”

  “Anytime,” he replied, watching me with a broad smile as I finally escaped into the fresh air.

  Once out of the house I walked down the driveway as calmly as I could, my knees trembling with nerves. When I reached the road I turned right then as soon as I was out of sight of the house I stopped and took a deep breath. Had I really got away with it? It was too early to tell.

  I was shaking like a leaf as I walked quickly along to the corner. There to my relief I found a bus stop with a Number Nine approaching.

  ***

  For the first time in fifteen years I was late for work that morning. The bus journey to back to Julie’s to collect my car followed by the drive home had taken much longer than I had expected. I dashed upstairs and into the shower to wash the sticky evidence of fornication from my body only to find as I dried myself in front of the mirror that Darren had given me three large hickeys, two on the base of my neck, one higher up.

  I was horrified! Darren’s housemate Will couldn’t possibly have missed them.

  The first two could be hidden by a judicious choice of top but, short of wearing a headscarf, the third would be clearly visible to anyone who saw me. I cursed Darren for marking me as if we had been at a teenage disco and then cursed myself for being stupid enough to let it happen. At my age I should have known better.

  I used more concealer that morning than I had since my spotty teenage days, thanking God that although it was large, the hickey wasn’t too dark in colour. The bags under my eyes needed attention too so I was well behind time as I drove through the thick traffic and struggled to find a parking place.

  It was well past nine when I finally arrived at my desk to find I was already late for my first meeting but as I apologised and took my place at the table, settled into my seat and felt the aches and soreness my night’s adventure had produced, a warm glow of satisfied feminine contentment passed through me.

  When I thought of the reason for my unusual tardiness, felt the warm glow in my belly and wondered what my colleagues would think if they knew I had just rushed in from my first one night stand in thirty years, I couldn’t prevent a broad smile appearing on my fifty-one year old face.

  The warm glow continued throughout the day and into the evening, returning with a vengeance as I

  sat at my dressing table, removing my make-up and looking with a perverse pride at the three hickeys on my neck as if they were trophies.

  Knowing I had been free to do this crazy thing; that my absent husband could and would voice no objection to what I had done made all the difference.

  To my amazement, the continued risk of discovery and exposure by Darren’s housemates served only to heighten the thrill that rippled through me.

  In love or not, none of my encounters with Tony had made me fill like this.

  An extraordinary thought struck me; was this what my husband had wanted all along?

  14

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror on Saturday night as I carefully put the final touches to my make-up and fastened my necklace and bracelet in place.

  To my relief the hickeys Darren had given me were already beginning to fade. The overdose of concealer I had applied had done a good enough job, at least for the most obvious mark and the two dark patches above my collar bone were hidden by the high collar of the dress I
had chosen for the evening’s event. My tummy still churned when I remembered what had happened only two days before; the genuinely unplanned but intensely pleasurable all-night fucking I had received at the hands of an intellectually pedestrian but drop-dead-gorgeous Personal Trainer.

  The twenty-nine year old boy had delivered in his dirty, untidy bedroom a night of copulation that had opened my eyes even further to the extraordinary physical pleasures an exciting, adventurous sex life could bring a girl – even one of my advancing age.

  Even better, with my wedding ring no longer on my finger - at my husband’s Pete’ insistence - I need not feel any guilt about having had only the second extra-marital lover in my life. I felt shame for having behaved like a slut in bed and fear of my infidelity being discovered by my friends but these were manageable.

  I felt no guilt at all for having added my name to the list of married women carved into Darren’s bedpost.

  The thrill and excitement had carried me through a dreary Friday at work, an evening in the gym followed by another lonely night alone at home and in bed. It also helped overcome the dull pain of finding my secret phone still devoid of messages from Tony, the man who had first seduced me, fucked me and started the affair that had led to my current horrible situation.

  Had it not been for the obvious pleasure Darren had enjoyed in my company in and out of bed, I

  don’t know what this sudden and total rejection by both the men I loved might have made me do.

  Learning that for a second time I had cheated on him by arranging secret dates with Tony, my husband had insisted that we separate. It might only be for a couple of weeks; it might be permanent. Pete had even insisted we gave back our wedding rings to make sure we both understood the magnitude of what was happening. Putting distance between us would, he said, give us both time and space to decide what we wanted and the opportunity to try other previously forbidden fruit.

  What we had both expected was that I would spend the time living with Tony in his flat. After all, he had told me many times how much he loved me and had even asked me to leave my husband and marry him once his divorce from his estranged and unfaithful wife Julie had come through. By becoming his wife for two weeks I would know for certain which of the two men in my life I wanted to be with.