First-Time Cuckold

by Vivi King

  “What’s that?” I asked, puzzled.

  “It must be my Manager,” he replied with a frown. “If he’s seen the lights still on and the alarm hasn’t been set he’ll be wondering what’s going on. I’d better take the call. Just a moment.”

  The boy hurriedly pulled on his trousers and disappeared into the low glow of the security lights.

  I sat there wearing nothing more than my heeled sandals, my mind spinning, contemplating what had just happened and wondering what on earth would happen now. If we had been in bed I would have wanted to curl up in his arms; to relieve the inevitable post penetration insecurities by the physical closeness of the man who had just inseminated me.

  But after a fucking this raw such a romantic end was impossible. Far from receiving the reassuring affection of my lover, barely minutes after his still-erect cock had left my body I was naked and alone. It couldn’t be helped I understood that but I learned a lesson about myself and my needs which I had not realised in my thirty-plus years of active sex life.

  The changing room was beginning to cool and so was I. It was time to move.

  I began to retrieve my discarded clothes item by item then started slowly to dress. My whole body was trembling with orgasmic after-shocks as I fastened my bra around my chest; my arousal had been so complete that my nipples were still quite firm.

  I scooped my panties from the floor where they had fallen then went into the toilet to wipe my leaking vulva clean before pulling them back on. As I sat on the seat, feeling our combined juices oozing from me as I emptied my bladder, I looked at the rumpled garment in disgust. They were unwearable; the elastic was broken, they were soaking wet and smelled strongly of my juices. I rolled them into a ball to stuff into my sports bag.

  My bladder relieved, I wiped myself as clean as I could before re-emerging from the cubicle, returning to my seat and bag then pulling my ridiculously short summer dress back over my head and smoothing it down over my hips and upper thighs. As the garment passed over my hips, I could see the bruises from Will’s tight grip beginning to form, finger by finger. I would have literally a handful of marks to show my husband on his return.

  My dress inadequately covering my skinny thighs, I looked in the mirror once again in trepidation. The face that greeted me was not a pretty sight; smudged makeup, flushed pink skin and wild tousled hair.

  I looked like what I was; a middle aged woman who had just been fucked with her head upside down.

  I was doing my best to repair the worst of the damage when my own phone rang in my bag. Thinking it was probably Pete trying to find out what had happened I crossed to where the bag lay, pulled out the handset and looked at the screen.

  ‘Izzy Mobile.’

  Oh God! That was all I needed! If my daughter was calling this late at night then it could only mean she had news about her latest relationship or worse, was having problems with either her current or ex-boyfriend.

  With the semen of a boy her age dribbling down my inner thigh, I simply couldn’t handle that now so with callousness no mother should admit to, I rejected the call and let it go to voicemail. If it was important, she would leave a message and I would listen later.

  I was putting the phone in my sports bag just as Will returned with two bottles of sports drink in his hands. He popped the lid of one open and gave it to me. I drank deeply and gratefully as he did the same himself.

  “Got to rehydrate after exercise,” he grinned cheekily. I laughed despite my increasing embarrassment.

  “So you trainers always say. You were gone a long time.”

  “It was my boss,” he confirmed. “He wanted to know why the alarm hadn’t been set. It sends a message to his phone each time it’s armed. I didn’t know that. I said I was still cleaning and was running late.”

  “Quick thinking,” I smiled.

  “Then I had to run around turning off all the lights and getting the alarm ready to set. I’m sorry but we need to go soon or he’ll get suspicious.”

  I looked at the boy who had just delivered such an amazing fucking and now wanted us to leave the scene of the crime in a hurry. Despite his tallness, his extraordinary body and his well-defined muscles he seemed much younger and less confident now. His uncertainty brought out the mothering instinct me and despite my predicament, endeared him to me even more.

  “Was it good for you?” Will eventually asked.

  I was surprised at the apparent lack of confidence in his voice.

  “Couldn’t you tell?” I replied, embarrassed.

  “Well, I thought I could but...”

  “You thought I might be faking it?”

  He shrugged; the desire for praise was almost tangible.

  “I wasn’t faking, Will. It was good - very good in fact. You’re a talented boy.”

  It was no more than the truth. At these words, Will’s already impressive physique seemed to become even more powerful. The boy almost swelled with pride which reinforced in my mind the huge difference in our ages and the enormity of what we had just done.

  For a minute or two we sat in silence with our drinks, two sweaty, sex-soiled bodies side by side on the bench.

  “So what happens now?” I finally asked.

  For a moment Will appeared nonplussed then he took my hand in his.

  “Can I see you again?”

  I thought for a moment.

  Part of my mind told me that this was insane; that I shouldn’t see him again ever. Another part of my mind told me that a refusal might be unwise; that this young man could ruin the rest of Pete and my lives if he wasn’t handled very carefully.

  My body, on the other hand, knew exactly what it wanted and that was more of the same. My middle- aged vagina wanted to feel the young man’s cock inside it over and over again.

  But above all this, my conscience told me that whatever I did, I needed my husband’s understanding and agreement first. There was no point in fucking Will to save my career and family, just to have my precarious marriage fall apart through a breach of the fragile trust Pete and I were still establishing.

  “I need to think about it,” I stalled.

  “That’s not a ‘no’ then?” Will asked eagerly.

  “It’s not a ‘yes’ either,” I smiled indulgently. “This has been a bit of a shock, Will. I need a bit of time to think things through.”

  “O... kay,” he replied uncertainly. “I understand. Shall I call you?”

  “Give it a few days,” I said firmly. “And I’ll call you.”

  “That sounds like a put-off,” he frowned, the disappointment of his face so childishly comical I could have laughed out loud.

  “You’ll have to trust me,” I said in a voice that sounded a bit too motherly after what we had just done. “I will call, I promise.”

  ***

  Will let me out of the club by the rear fire escape so my face wouldn’t appear on any of the security cameras. We kissed our goodbyes as if we were friends; not even close friends. No-one who saw us would have guessed that only minutes ago we had been lovers.

  I sat in my car in the darkness, the feeling of relief beginning to flow through my body. I was trembling with the intensity of the whole evening’s activities and a few minor orgasmic aftershocks but I was content.

  Pete had been right; when it had come down to brass tacks, I had known what to do. Letting Will fuck me had been the obvious choice and I had made that choice. True, I had added another name to the increasing number of men whose sperm had flowed into and been absorbed by my body but it seemed to have worked, if only for now.

  The amazing fucking had bought us time - and had provided a great deal of unexpected pleasure into the bargain.

  With a smile on my makeup-streaked face, I started the engine and began the short drive home, the young man’s fluids seeping from my bare vulva, through my tight cotton dress and onto the car’s leather seat all the way.

  ***

  “You fucked him there? There in the club?”

  Pe
te’s voice on the phone sounded shocked, surprised and more than a little drunk. It was around midnight and he had finally decided to call and see how I was. I was not impressed but was consoling myself with a badly-advised second glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

  He had called as the bath was running; after all my exertions in the club that evening I needed more than just a shower to soak away both the aches from my muscles and the sticky evidence of my most recent fornication.

  “Yes, Pete. To be more accurate I let him fuck me but the result was the same.”

  “How long ago?”

  “About an hour. Maybe less.”

  “Jesus! Have you showered yet?”

  “I’m running the bath now. Are you drunk Pete?”

  “No... well, perhaps a little.”

  “Are you upset that I did it? You told me to do whatever I needed to do to keep us safe, remember? That’s what I did. It’s too late for second thoughts now.”

  “I’m not having second thoughts. But now there’s two of them who know about... about you.”

  I couldn’t help noticing that my husband was far more concerned about making sure our secret lifestyle remained just that than he was that his wife of over twenty years had just been fucked by yet another unfamiliar man.

  Clearly, he ranked confidentiality over fidelity; something I should have understood given the lifestyle we both still seemed to want.

  “I’m not stupid, Pete,” I replied. “I had to buy us time. I had to give him at least something to keep him quiet until you and I had talked it through.”

  That last part wasn’t strictly true. Once things had started; once Will’s cock was in my mouth and my body was responding so powerfully, there was no way I would have let the evening end without feeling his cock inside me, letting him fuck me hard and if at all possible feeling him cum inside me.

  But there was nothing to be gained from telling Pete this and I was pleased to see that my minor deception seemed to mollify his concerns considerably.

  “I’m sorry. I know I can trust you,” he eventually conceded once I had finished.

  “Don’t worry. It can’t be easy for you to hear about your wife being unfaithful.”

  That was a complete and deliberate lie too; I knew full well how much my husband had enjoyed and had insisted on hearing every last detail about my infidelity with Darren. I hoped he would feel the same about my latest fucking by Will. I believed he would.

  “Was it good? Did you enjoy it?” he asked after another of his annoying pauses.

  “You really want to know?”

  “Hold on a minute,” he said.

  There was a fumbling on the line and the creaking of bedsprings before Pete’s voice returned.

  “Sorry. I’m back now,” he eventually said. “Now, was it good?”

  “It was very good.”

  “What did he do?”

  So I told him. Slowly and in intimate detail, I told my husband about every step of my journey from angry frightened wife to unfaithful, inseminated slut. I dwelled especially on the way my youngest and most recent lover had seduced me; how he had overcome my initial reluctance; how he had kissed me, stripped me and fingered me so comprehensively.

  “Jesus, Penny that is so fucking hot!”

  Pete’s voice over the phone sounded even drunkerbut he was definitely getting aroused.

  So I carried on; telling my husband vividly and with genuine emotion how Will had forced me to my knees; how I had touched, kissed and fondled his erect cock before taking it deep into my mouth and delivering the best blowjob I was capable of. I told him how the amazing sensations had made my body weep with lubrication as it prepared itself for the penetration that would inevitably follow.

  “Did he cum? Did he cum in your mouth?” Pete demanded excitedly.

  Behind his voice, I could hear strange, rhythmic noises in the background.

  “No. He pulled out just in time. Are you masturbating Pete?” I asked, my voice scolding.

  “Go on,” He urged, ignoring my question.

  So I did. In clear, unambiguous words I told my husband of over twenty years how a boy young enough to be our son had positioned me in front of the mirror, bent me over until my face was on the counter then, both of us still standing, me in my heels, he had fucked the living daylights out of me from behind.

  “Christ!” Pete grunted, the rhythmic noises louder and faster.

  I told my husband how the young man’s cock had felt as it entered my loose, middle-aged vagina; how it had slipped easily into my well-lubricated passage; how it had reached deep into my body until its head had battered the sealed cervix behind which Darren’s baby was growing. I described how his young, strong body had driven that thick, rigid pole hard and fast into my flesh. Finally, I told him how it had felt to reach my climax quickly and freely, my juices running down both our legs.

  “Penny! Oh, Jesus, Penny!”

  I brought my story to a climax by describing how Will had reached his own climax; how he had slammed hard into my buttocks; how his head had swollen inside me as the end came; how his peak had been reached and his tension broken; how he had pumped his youthful semen into my eager, orgasming body.

  And all of this had been watched and matched by my own reflection only inches away from my face.

  “Oh God, I wish I could have seen it,” My husband said breathlessly over the phone line. “Where are your panties?”

  “Still in my sports bag.”

  “Save them for me!”

  “Pete!”

  “Please, Penny!”

  “Well, okay.”

  The soft noise in the background was getting louder and faster still.

  “Are you. Still leaking. His cum?” my husband’s voice was getting breathier still.

  “Pete, this is getting really crude.”

  “Are you still leaking his cum Penny?”

  I opened my legs, ran my fingers over my inflamed vulva and brought them to my face. There was a thin film of sticky goo all over their tips and on my knuckles. My hand smelled disgustingly of semen and fish.

  “Yes, Pete. I’m still leaking. It’s all over my inner thighs.”

  “Wipe it on your knickers for me.”

  “Jesus, Pete!”

  “Please, Penny! I’m so clooooose!”

  “Okay. They stink of sex, Pete. They stink of Will’s cum and my juices and...”

  “Oh, my Goddd... Aaahhhhh!”

  There was a loud sigh of relief over the phone which went on for several seconds and was followed by complete silence from my husband.

  “Have you just cum Pete? Have you been masturbating as I told you all this?” I asked accusingly.

  “That was amazing,” was all the reply I received – that and some heavy breathing.

  “So it seems,” I replied.

  A feeling of relief washed over me too. If Pete could actually masturbate to orgasm as I told him the story over the phone, surely he would be okay about it in real life when we were together again the following evening.

  “You do realise that I’ve only bought him off temporarily, Pete,” I said seriously.

  “I understand,” my husband replied, recovering his breath quickly.

  “We’re not safe yet. We still need to find a permanent solution.”

  “I get that too, but you don’t think he’s going to kiss and tell straight away?”

  “I can’t be certain but I don’t think so,” I confessed. “Basically he’s just a nice lad with a naughty streak.”

  “Who likes MILFs?”

  “Who likes MILFs,” I agreed.

  “And you’re sure sex is all he wants? He didn’t mention money at all?”

  “He got really upset when I even suggested it.”

  Pete went silent for a minute before asking.

  “Did he put any time pressure on you?”

  “None,” I replied. “I know he’s got a girlfriend so presumably he’s getting his end away there too.”

 
“Penny! I’ve never heard you use that phrase before,” Pete scolded.

  This was perverse; my husband was happy for me to be fucked half senseless by a boy less than half my age but was shocked by my using a single coarse phrase.

  “Sorry,” I apologised in a voice that made it clear I was not at all sorry. “I’m still a bit delicate after being fucked so hard and cumming so many times.”

  Pete chose not to react to my deliberate jibe. It was his way of apologising.

  “Would you do it again? If you had to stall for more time?” Pete asked.

  Christ yes; in a heartbeat! I thought but did not say aloud. Instead, I cautiously ventured:

  “Only if you were okay about it. I don’t want to start another affair.”

  I heard my husband snort down the phone.

  “Neither of us wants that, right? But if it’s necessary...?”

  “Then I’ll do what I need to do to keep us safe,” I assured him. “Now, it’s well after midnight, Pete. I need to go to sleep. I’m exhausted.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “And I have to get up at six-thirty.”

  “I’m back on duty at eight-thirty,” he told me, his breathing still coming in soft pants. “Break-out groups.”

  I yawned both with tiredness and at the prospect of such a dull morning.

  “Maybe sleeping on it will help. When will you be home tomorrow night?” I asked.

  “About seven-thirty I think,” he replied.

  “I’ll have dinner ready for eight. We can talk about the problem then.”

  “Okay, Penn. And the bed ready for nine?” he asked cheekily.

  “If we can wait that long,” I said as sexily as I could. “And if you’re up for it by then.”

  “I’ll be up for it, don’t worry,” he laughed.

  “You’d better be. My standards are getting higher all the time.”

  “You are such a slut, Penny Barker!” he growled. “And I love you for it. Goodnight!”

  “I love you too,” I replied as I pressed the red button on the handset.

  ***

  I lay in the bath for a while, feeling the warm water soaking the sticky residues from my body, easing the aches and strains in my middle-aged muscles and wondering what my daughter wanted to talk about so late in the evening. She hadn’t left a voice message but it was bound to be something to do with boys – it always was.