First-Time Cuckold

by Vivi King

  Pinned helplessly underneath his tall, strong body, escape from the onslaught would have been impossible but in truth was the last thing on my mind. As much as he wanted me, I wanted him, begging my body to open for him, to take as much of him into me as I could, and yet to stay tight around the shaft that was bringing me so many wonderful sensations.

  A fourth climax hit me, stronger than any I had ever experienced in my life, then a fifth, so powerful it hurt me, choking off the breath in my throat and silencing my climactic wailing.

  Tony’s eyes were glazed with lust as he fucked me harder and harder. Beneath him and quite beyond distinguishing pleasure from pain, my fuddled brain span. I could feel my abused vagina screamed loudly at me, its inner lips stretched tightly around the shaft that penetrated it deeply and repeatedly. I could feel the pleasure still building within me, already beyond any previous orgasm yet I could tell that another, even more overwhelming climax was still there to be had, still building slowly within me, new, exciting, incredible, making me feel... the words wouldn’t come into my mind.

  Why hadn’t I let this happen long ago? Why had I wasted so many years not knowing what it felt to be truly fucked; to feel this gorgeous man’s body inside mine?

  I stared up into the handsome face of the man who totally controlled me now, my hands on his strong shoulders, then on his back, then his waist, pulling hard as if trying to draw him into me completely. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead onto my lips and I licked its saltiness, reveling in the earthy reality of what was happening to me.

  Faster and faster he thrust as he lost control, grinding my back hard into the rug and twisting my thighs grotesquely wide. His strokes lost their rhythm, growing short and stabbing. I dug my fingernails into his sides, then his arms, then his neck as he grew closer and closer to his climax and the huge wave building within me grew closer and closer to breaking over me.

  For a split second it dawned on me that he was about to cum; that Tony was about to ejaculate within me; that my body was about to receive another man’s semen for the first time in over twenty years. I could have stopped him there but to my shame it never crossed my sex-fuddled mind. All I could think of was how to make the huge wave of pleasure and pain break over me; how to have that mightiest of orgasms that I had never understood existed but which I now craved with every cell in my body.

  I clamped down on his cock as hard as my battered pelvic floor would allow in the hope that this last burst of sensation would tip me over the edge and into... I didn’t know or care what. Tony’s thrusts lost all remaining rhythm and then suddenly without further warning, his handsome face became ugly; twisted and contorted merely inches above mine as his body tensed and spasmed with the force of his own orgasm.

  For a moment I felt his thick cock grow thicker still and cried out as it stretched me, then his whole lower body began to throb and pulse as he began to ejaculate

  “Oh yes!” I heard a voice barely recognizable as my own crying out. “Yes, yes, pleeeeease!”

  Tony’s breath came in crude, animal like grunts in time with the throbbing of his cock as his semen began to spurt into me. Clenching his buttocks, he drove his pulsating cock as deep into my body as his strength would allow, driving me hard along the floor, grinding his pubic hair roughly into my mound as my back and buttocks rasped painfully against the carpet.

  It felt simply incredible, wonderful. I felt incredible too, desirable and desired, a real woman again after so many years of being just a wife and mother! A real, handsome man had wanted me so badly he had actually taken me forcefully on my own lounge floor, in my own house, filling my body with his life-creating seed which was even now being smeared over my cervix.

  And on the way he had showed me not only orgasms greater than I had ever experienced, he had also given me a glimpse of an even greater climax that I now knew was there waiting to be enjoyed.

  It had been quite unlike the sex of Peter and my fantasies, but it had still been incredible as my trembling body could witness.

  I hadn’t reached that full overwhelming orgasm, but it didn’t matter; I had glimpsed it and knew it was there. The climaxes I had reached had been enough for now; enough to make me tremble and tingle in their afterglow; enough to make me cry and laugh both at the same time. It was enough to let me know that the orgasm of my life was still deep inside me, waiting to be unleashed and that I wanted to unleash it.

  Eventually Tony’s thrusting slowed to a halt, the throbbing of his cock ceased and he held himself motionless over me, his face inches above mine. I could smell the stale railway coffee on his breath still as we both panted. A drop of sweat fell from his forehead onto my cheek as his strong, thick erection began to soften rapidly, leaving an unfamiliar feeling of emptiness as my gaping vagina struggled to contract around his shrinking shaft.

  Our eyes locked together, his pupils huge, black and framed by rings of deep desirable brown. I could feel tears welling in my own eyes and blinked them quickly away as he lowered his weight onto me, pressing me hard into the floor. My hands fell from his shoulders to my side, my legs unfolded themselves from around his thighs and I lay almost lifeless beneath the man who after so many years of friendship had just completely conquered me.

  A moment later I felt his flaccid cock slip easily from my body and bit my lip as the emptiness hit me. Taking his weight on his knees, Tony lifted himself up and rolled off my motionless body to lie close alongside on his back. I felt his right hand fumbling for my left then my fingers were entwined with his.

  “Christ I’ve waited a long time for that,” he gasped, panting then turned his heat towards mine. “Are you okay?”

  I turned my head silently and looked at him. His trousers and underpants were bunched ludicrously around his ankles; his shirt was still neatly fastened; his tie still tied though hopelessly askew; he hadn’t even had the chance to take his shoes off. It would have been funny if what we had just done hadn’t been so serious.

  I looked at myself lying alongside him. My legs were splayed open, the half- shredded tights and twisted knickers which had bound my ankles together were yards away. My knees and thighs were still grotesquely spread apart displaying brazenly the swollen, wet, sticky triangle above. I must have looked like a giant frog but for a moment felt frozen, unable even to close my legs and cover my brazenly exposed and extremely messy vulva.

  It really had just happened; Tony really had just made love to me, not just in my fantasies but it real life, on our lounge floor.

  What in God’s name had we just done?

  “Penny? Are you okay?” he asked again, his voice now low and anxious.

  “I’m... I’m fine, Tony.” I said softly, staring at the ceiling, wondering whether I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  I felt a small trickle of liquid run from my vagina, down my buttocks and onto the carpet. Slowly I brought my legs together as if trying to hide the shame of my defilement from view; as if it were possible to recover a little modesty after what had just happened.

  And what had just happened? Twenty years of almost complete fidelity had been cast aside; my honor simply handed over without resistance to this man; this wonderful, handsome man who had made me feel so... so... incredibly desirable and yet...!

  I felt a tingle on my cheek.

  “Penny! Don’t cry, please don’t cry!”

  Tony’s voice was soft and reassuring as he hugged me, kissing away the tiny tears that had begun to roll down my face. I felt warm in his arms and comforted and we lay together for what seemed a long time.

  “I’ve dreamed of making love to you for so long,” he whispered holding me close. “But I never actually thought it would happen.”

  I nuzzled his neck, my naked lower body starting to shiver a little, whether from a chill in the room or an after effect of my infidelity I couldn’t tell.

  “Are you okay about it? You did want it, didn’t you? You didn’t feel forced? I know I got a bit carried away...”


  “I’m okay,” I interrupted, still overwhelmed. “It was lovely and I did want it, it’s just that...” I paused, my throat dry.

  “It’s just that you’ve never cheated on Pete before and you’re not sure it was a good idea or what might happen next?” he filled in the missing words with uncanny accuracy.

  I nodded.

  “What do you want to happen next?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, Tony. I can’t think straight right now.”

  “You need some time to think about it?”

  I nodded again. “I need to try and understand what just happened and why. Is that bad?”

  He chuckled.

  “How long have we known each other? Twenty years? I think I can wait a little longer if there’s a chance of making love with you again.”

  I kissed him on the cheek, tears once again running down my face. But Tony hadn’t finished.

  “Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose you as a friend Penny. I’d prefer to be a lot more to you than that but I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

  Now I was crying properly, feeling his kisses on my face and neck, acutely aware of the cool wetness between my thighs that screamed out my sin. After another few minutes the clock in the hallway began to chime.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, pushing him away and sitting bolt upright. “It’s six already and Pete will be home in half an hour!” I looked around at the room and at myself. “I can’t let him see me like this!”

  I began to stand up but stumbled over the tangle of panties tights and shoes by my feet. Tony grabbed my hand to steady me.

  “I’d better go!” he began. “Unless...” he started pulling up his underpants and trousers, his flaccid cock dark and sticky.

  “Please Tony,” I pleaded. “Please just go! Let me sort things out by myself.”

  “Are you sure? If you need some moral support...”

  “I’m sure. Please just go!”

  “Of course!” he finally fastened his trousers and turned towards the door then span back towards me. “You’ll call?” he asked anxiously. “You promise? You don’t hate me?”

  I response I kissed him once, hard on the lips, my naked vulva and legs pressed against the rough wool of his trousers.

  “I don’t hate you! I’ll call. I promise!” I replied then hustled him out of the house, making sure none of our neighbors could see my nakedness through the open door.

  ***

  I watched from behind the curtain as Tony’s car reversed quickly down the driveway, the large

  automatic doors opening as his car approached them closing behind him.

  My breathing slowly began to return to normal and my trembling slowed for a moment before I remembered that Pete really would be home in much less than half an hour. Gathering my discarded clothes together I rushed upstairs and into the shower where I desperately tried to wash away at least the physical traces of my guilt.

  As I climbed the stairs I could feel Tony’s semen leaking from my vagina and running down the inside of my thigh. I felt dirty, ashamed, guilty beyond expression but even then there was no denying the height of arousal and pleasure my first ever adultery had produced.

  Adultery! I was an adulteress. Oh my God!

  After scrubbing myself until my skin hurt and hastily drying myself on a large bath towel, I quickly looked in the large mirror above the sink. To my surprise, the person looking back was still me – admittedly a pink face and red-chested, disheveled me with slightly puffy lips and no make-up – but I hadn’t grown horns, a pointed tail or the mark of Jezebel on my forehead. There was nothing in my face that screamed out that I was now a fallen woman; that I was no longer the innocent wife and mother that I had been only that morning; that another man’s semen was even now swimming about inside my once-faithful body.

  So much for my face, but as I looked more closely at my body, clearer signs began to emerge. There were small bruises on my boobs and on the inside of my thighs but carefully-chosen clothes would hide these. My well-used vulva was swollen, dark and surprisingly sore but again that could be concealed, at least for the moment.

  I hurriedly pulled on a pair of jeans and a high-necked shirt to cover the evidence of my guilt.

  There could be no possibility of sex with my husband that night; the marks on my body would be obvious to him and despite the fact that he had urged me so strongly and so often to take a lover, I wasn’t anywhere near ready to confess all and, at that moment, wasn’t sure I ever would be .

  Returning quickly downstairs I threw my still-damp panties into the washing machine - the torn tights were beyond saving - then opened all the windows in the lounge to let the fresh air cleanse the room of the smell of recent sex. I straightened the cushions on the couch and turned on the coffee machine just in time to see my husband’s Porsche slowly approaching along the driveway and pulling up near the house.

  As he climbed out of the driver’s door and retrieved his briefcase from the back seat, I felt a tiny

  trickle of Tony’s semen begin to leak from my vulva and run messily down my inner thigh.

  God help me, I silently prayed!

  ***

  My prayers were answered; Pete was been perfectly normal and cheerful the whole evening. If he noticed anything he didn’t mentioned it and even made a half serious attempt to start one of our cuckold fantasies as we watched the late news together. He was easily put off this time but as we went upstairs to bed he insisted once again that it would be okay with him if I did start an affair.

  I watched him go into the en suite bathroom then undressed quickly, hiding my second pair of semen-soaked knickers in the bottom of my drawer. Before pulling on my pajamas, I took one last look at myself in the full length mirror on the closet door.

  The marks on my boobs were hidden; my pink-flushed chest less noticeable than I had feared. The dark gash between my legs was still sore and swollen but the evidence was fading quickly. Would my feelings of guilt fade with it, I wondered?

  But did I really feel guilty? Really guilty? After all, hadn’t my husband urged me to have sex with another man?

  As the night progressed painfully slowly, the answer to that last question became painfully clear; I felt as guilty as sin; disgusted and ashamed of myself.

  But the more disgusted I felt, the more vivid the memories of what had occurred became.

  And the more vividly I remembered how incredible my adultery had felt, the more I wanted to repeat it.

  And the more I wanted to repeat it, the more guilty, disgusted and ashamed I felt.

  And so it went on for what seemed like hours. Sleep was impossible; my mind and stomach working as a team to keep me from anything that might ease my conscience. Hours later I lay wide awake alongside the father of my children, listening to Pete’s slow breathing.

  Though I hadn’t made it difficult, the seduction – such as it was - had been wonderfully exciting. Being made to feel so attractive after all these years had been incredible; being stripped by a strong handsome man in my own lounge had been amazing too and as for the sex...

  With middle age a reality and after giving birth to three children I hadn’t expected anything to feel that good ever again, but it had been simply mind–blowing. I had reached orgasm faster and more frequently than ever in my life before. What was more, I knew for certain that there was a greater, deeper orgasm still to be enjoyed, waiting in the darkness for me if only I could get there.

  And I now knew it was there, I really, really wanted to feel it.

  But how? In over twenty years, my warm, loving husband hadn’t brought me as close to this hitherto unsuspected climax as Tony had during our very first copulation.

  But was I really the kind of wife who cheated on her husband? Even if Pete had made it clear he wanted me to?

  The answer to that was, once again, an unequivocal yes. There could be no debate; I had already become an unfaithful wife; a slut; a whore. In truth, I was no better than Tony’s estranged wife Jul
ie and her young lover. If anything I was far worse; Tony was one of our closest friends; we had gone on holiday together as two families many times.

  What would my husband say if he found out I had betrayed him with one of his closest friends? When he found out, I corrected myself because this couldn’t be kept secret forever.

  And far, far worse, what would our three kids think if they ever discovered their mother had slept with their best friends’ father?

  I groaned slightly as I rolled over in bed. My body ached from Tony’s unfamiliar onslaught, my hips and thighs were stiff and the soreness between my legs was a constant reminder of both the immense pleasure and impending guilt that the day had brought.

  I turned to look at my newly cuckolded, oblivious husband as he slept and wondered how long I would be able to call him by that name.

  Could our marriage survive this? What on earth would happen now?

  4

  ‘Are you okay Penny? Please reply. I’m worried.’

  The screen of my phone flashed in the corner of the kitchen the following morning for the third time. The message that glowed across the screen before fading told me instantly who had sent it; Tony, the man with whom, less than twenty-four hours ago, I had committed adultery for the first time after over twenty years of monogamous marriage.

  I had cheated on my husband. Not in one of our fantasies; not in one of my erotic stories. No, this time another man’s erect penis had actually been inside my body and, if that wasn’t bad enough, it had even left its load of semen within me.

  I was no longer a faithful wife. I was soiled goods. The damage had been done and could never be undone.

  “Are you okay, Penny?”

  My husband’s words mirrored those of my only lover exactly but for different reasons. Not knowing how to reply, I had deliberately ignored all the messages Tony had sent me since I had hurriedly shooed him from our house the previous evening only minutes after our first and only copulation had ended. He was unsurprisingly becoming anxious.

  “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all,” was the best I could say.