First-Time Cuckold

by Vivi King

  Given the opportunity, I suspect I wouldn’t be too fussed which man it was so it was very fortunate that only my husband and one previous boyfriend had ever seen it!

  When it had first happened, Pete had been stunned. I had come off the pill a month before and we were trying to make me pregnant with our first child. Something about the time, the place, my partner and above all, the purpose of our copulation had increased my arousal to a level I had never encountered before. As he thrust into me, Pete was as stunned as was I at the words that escaped my lips and the wild, uncontrolled energy I had been helpless to prevent putting into our lovemaking.

  I had discovered I was pregnant soon afterwards.

  That evening, for the first time in over twenty years, it happened again. As Tony fucked me on his bed that second time, pinning me spread-legged to the mattress, his thick stubby cock stretching me so tightly that it actually hurt, the sexual beast buried deep within me for so long broke out noisily, energetically and uncontrollably.

  I wailed and howled beneath him, using every four letter word that came into my mind, raking his shoulders, back and buttocks with my fingernails and sinking my teeth into his forearms either side of my shoulders.

  Though clearly taken aback, Tony soldiered on, thrusting over and over again into my wildly thrashing, pulsating body in as close to a rhythm as my convulsions and exclamations would allow. My memories are naturally fuzzy but at one point I could hear myself begging him to knock me up; to make a baby in me!

  The pleasure and emotion were so intense that I came close to fainting and was in floods of angry, baby-crazed tears by the time Tony’s cock pumped its second load of semen into my pulsating vagina.

  After two decades of monogamy, I had all but forgotten about this long-past but still frightening side to my sex drive. I was a middle-aged professional woman, a mother of three grown up children about to embark on the dreaded menopause. This wasn’t supposed to happen; women like me weren’t supposed to get this badly out of control. It shocked and unnerved me considerably.

  Naturally I was terribly embarrassed afterwards, ashamed and more than a little disgusted with myself. The old-fashioned words ‘will you still respect me’ came flooding into my mind along with the after-shocks of the multiple orgasms that had accompanied my loss of control.

  I’m sure it shocked Tony too but he was too much a gentleman to say anything. However he felt inside, he behaved impeccably, taking me in his arms as if nothing unusual had happened, kissing me gently and holding me tightly as the tears rolled down my cheeks and the trembling slowly faded.

  ***

  Half an hour later, all I wanted to do was go to sleep in his arms with his seed deep inside me. But that would have betrayed my husband; I had to go home.

  I dressed, still shaking a little while Tony cleared up the dinner plates giving me a little privacy. Once I felt brave enough, Tony reluctantly escorted me to the door, kissed me in the darkness of the stairwell before letting me out into the cold night air. Its effect was immediate and reviving; as I crossed the tarmac I began to feel more and more in control again.

  Pete’s Porsche was waiting in a discreet corner of the car park. I opened the passenger door and slipped inside, wondering what state he would be in this time. Though pale and shaking, I was pleased to see him much more composed than after my first date and when he saw how exhausted I was, he held back on his questioning.

  We drove home in near-silence but the tension between us was at least as sexual as it was angry or jealous. This time I had remembered not to have a shower before dressing. This was definitely a good move; half way home Pete whispered that I smelled of ‘sex and sweat’ which judging by his tone of voice was a good thing.

  When we got to our bedroom, Pete made me take off my tights and skirt and sit back on the bed, spreading my legs wide so he could see the ‘scene of the crime’ while he asked me all about my date. He announced that I was gaping even wider than before. I told him what had happened honestly and in detail which he seemed to love, though he looked a little alarmed when I described how the ‘breeding frenzy’ had struck again.

  My online friends had been so right about being open and honest. Despite having been unfaithful once again, despite having my lover’s fluids still within my body, telling Pete the unadulterated truth made me feel strangely clean.

  Knowing I had no deep secrets from my husband made all the difference. It clearly made all the difference to him too and as he stripped off my few remaining clothes quickly and roughly, I put up no resistance. This time there was enough evidence of infidelity inside my panties and on my body to satisfy even Pete’s fantasies.

  There was no second hickey to balance the first but there were small teeth marks around my left boob and of course my vulva was puffy and distended with, according to Pete, just a tiny amount of semen oozing from it.

  Though sore and tired, I knew I had to let my husband take me too and in any way he wanted. As before, that turned out to be rough. Pete fucked me with at least as much passion as he had on Monday night, hammering into my loose, well-used vagina with an energy bordering on violence. I was too exhausted to reach a proper orgasm this time but nevertheless could feel something building within me that was very pleasant if less intense.

  I could see tears in his eyes and a look of pain mixed with joy on his face as Pete eventually added his semen to whatever remained of Tony’s in my vagina. I was too tired to do anything but lie there and let him get on with it but fortunately that seemed to satisfy him.

  In his passion, Pete bit me on the boob this time. Now I had a large mark alongside my right nipple to match the one on my left from Tony and the hickey on my neck. I should have been angry with both my lovers but something within me quite liked the idea of a man wanting me so much he felt he had to mark me as his own.

  It would act as a souvenir for the next couple of weeks before I could see Tony again.

  Assuming my husband agreed of course. I had an increasing feeling that he would!

  ***

  When I got up on Friday morning I found Pete had done all the washing and ironing the night before. He had got up early to set the table with croissants for breakfast – another favourite of mine – and there was a single red rose in a vase next to my place.

  It would have been a perfect start to the day if my vulva hadn’t been so sore when I sat down.

  The working day passed quickly for a change, my concentration only occasionally being broken by the aches, pains and soreness that provided a periodic reminder of my wickedness. During these moments however, a slight unease came into my otherwise strong and erotic memories of the evening, centring around a concern that Pete might be getting too upset during the date itself.

  On advice from my online friends (and to his obvious delight) I had banned him from masturbation while I was with Tony and he was forbidden access to my body for three days prior to my dates. Doing the housework could only have been a way of keeping himself occupied and I didn’t want him to feel humiliated in that way. I wondered how other cuckolds kept themselves occupied during their wives’ dates. I most certainly didn’t want my loving husband to suffer – well, to suffer more than he wanted to!

  I resolved to ask my online friends for their advice but there was no great rush; there were nearly two weeks of festivities ahead of me in which seeing Tony would be difficult. I proposed to spend them enjoying as normal a Christmas as possible, putting my Hotwife lifestyle on hold and reverting to being a Mum for a while.

  It was time for a period of normality; time to get a bit more perspective on it all.

  ***

  We enjoyed a lovely pre-Christmas dinner-party with our social group the following evening. It had become a tradition that we all met for dinner just before Christmas and for years we had taken turns to cook and play host. It wasn’t our turn this year, thank Goodness and I have to say it was great fun. There was more than a little booze consumed but we all took taxis in both directions like
grown-ups should.

  The evening had been poignant in several ways, the most obvious being that we were a group of ten that night when in almost all previous years we had been twelve. The missing two were of course, Tony and Julie. Both had been invited but perhaps sensibly both had declined. For me that had been a relief; I wasn’t sure I could have coped with Tony and Pete being in the same room when our new lifestyle was all still so new and unfamiliar.

  The whole scandal of Julie and her young man came up often and with some relish. Most of us had tried not to take sides in the split-up but you could tell there was almost universal sympathy for Tony, ‘the poor man’ and a mixture of shock, disgust and envy for his slut of a wife.

  I tried hard not to say anything; after all, I was in no position to pass judgement on anyone. Fortunately, because Julie and I were very close, my relative silence was put down to a desire not to denigrate my friends rather than any guilty sympathy.

  Despite our best efforts, Pete and I couldn’t avoid exchanging meaningful glances over our meals when Tony’s name came up and it made me think that, if Pete wasn’t such an extraordinarily understanding - and perhaps perverted man when it came to me and sex, after my initial affair there could easily have been two more empty seats at that table.

  Yet again I realised how lucky I was to have him as a husband.

  I must say I had seldom seen Pete looking so happy or behaving as cheerfully as he did that night. He had never been a particularly outgoing person but seemed to have found a whole new spring in his step since I became his unfaithful Hotwife. He seemed so obviously content with life and almost embarrassingly proud of me that I felt like blushing.

  What’s more, he had been going to the gym more often too, had started running again and, though these were still early days, was looking increasingly good himself. He spent a considerable amount of the evening flirting with the two girls on either side of him; friends that we had known for years. At first

  they seemed taken aback by this change in personality but I noticed were soon enjoying themselves and returning the flirty behaviour with interest.

  Ridiculously, this made me feel a bit jealous by the time coffee was served but Pete’s frequent winks and the touch of his foot on my leg under the table helped me remain calm and happy, especially as the old friend on my right seemed to have developed a hitherto unsuspected ability to flirt with me too.

  “Well what did you expect?” my husband asked later as we sat close together in the back seat of the taxi on our way home.

  I had told him about the unexpectedly forward behaviour of my dinner companion. Pete’s voice was amused, his hand was on my thigh and he was gradually working his fingers upwards toward my groin, hoping I was too tipsy to notice.

  I hadn’t had so much to drink that I would miss an obvious sexual advance like that, but I had drunk enough not to mind. I decided to let it happen and enjoy it.

  “I mean, dressed like that someone was bound to flirt with you!”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, pushing his fingers back towards my knee but not off my leg altogether.

  “You’ve never worn a dress that short before. Thank God you were wearing tights and not stockings!”

  I thought for a moment then a strange feeling passed through my tummy. Pete was quite right; without thinking, I had donned one of my new shorter dresses, one that he and I had chosen for my dates with Tony and which barely covered my bottom. It was only because of the cold weather that I had opted for tights instead of stockings – indeed at one point I had laid out my suspender belt ready to put on but had changed my mind at the last minute, thank God!

  It simply hadn’t crossed my mind that this wasn’t my usual style of dress or that it would raise a few eyebrows among our friends. I was horrified.

  “Oh my God! Why didn’t you say anything before we left home?” I demanded angrily. “Have I made a fool of myself?”

  “No! No, of course you haven’t!” Pete immediately replied, grabbing my hand, “You looked absolutely amazing; you still do, Penn! Really sexy!”

  There was a pause as the taxi rumbled onwards. Then I felt Pete take my hand in his and squeeze it.

  “I don’t think you realise how sexy you’ve become since... well, probably since you first fucked Tony. Couldn’t you tell all the men were looking at you? All the women were too if it comes to that!”

  “Really?” I asked, horrified. “What on earth will they think? We’ve known all of them for years; do you think they could tell?”

  Pete laughed and whispered in my ear.

  “Don’t be silly, Penny! You don’t have a sign around your neck with ‘Hotwife’ or ‘Slut’ written on it! Only three people on earth know how we’ve chosen to live our life. All anyone saw tonight was a truly gorgeous woman dressed sexily for a Christmas party.”

  His slightly slurred words were having the desired effect. I felt his hand return to my thigh.

  “I was really proud to be with you tonight,” he continued, his fingers raising the hem of my dress to the place where my stocking top would have been had I not worn tights. “It’s all a bit new for both of us. We’ll just have to be careful while we get used to the idea.”

  I placed my hand on his, partly to show that I appreciated what he was saying, partly to prevent his fingers rising any higher up my thigh – at least while we were in the taxi.

  “I think we both have a lot to learn,” I whispered and kissed him as the taxi pulled into our road.

  It was well one o’clock when we entered the empty house, both rather tipsy and unusually amorous. After locking the front door and turning off the lights, I was surprised to find myself leading my willing and eager husband up the stairs to the bedroom where, moments later, I was further surprised to find myself naked apart from my bra and panties and kneeling by the bed.

  Unfortunately, the alcohol had worked its evil way on my husband’s virility but after a few minutes hard work on my knees with my hands and mouth his cock was firm enough for me to make the next move. At my insistence, Pete lay back on the bed.

  “What are you up to, my Little Hotwife?” Pete growled in excitement.

  “Wait and see!” I whispered, climbing onto the bed.

  A moment later I was straddling his pleasantly fit body, stroking the muscles of his chest.

  “You like this?” I asked.

  “Oh God yes!”

  I smiled slightly drunkenly then lowered myself slowly and unsteadily onto his cock, taking it deeper and deeper into me. The looseness of my vagina along with the plentiful lubrication his attentions on the taxi had induced had worked. My bony bottom descended slowly and unimpeded until I was fully impaled on his long, slim erection, feeling the pressure of his tip against my cervix.

  “Mmmm! That’s deep!” I hissed with pleasure.

  A wonderful thrill passed through me. It really was deep. Pete’s cock had always been long but this position seemed to be making it even longer. I wriggled on his shaft, feeling its smooth tip moving deep within me, pressing my cervix and womb upwards into my belly.

  I shivered then raised myself on my knees until just its head was still inside me. It felt daring; an unusual position for the two of us and the thrill came through me again before I lowered myself carefully into his cock.

  ‘Slap!’ The sound was loud and disgustingly wet. And I loved it!

  I did it again, then again. Moments later I was riding him eagerly as I imagined a porn star would ride, eyes closed, hands on my erect nipples, my pelvis tilted in a desperate but largely unsuccessful attempt to stimulate my clitoris against his shaft.

  “Oh Pennyyyyy! This is amaaazing!”

  Pete‘s voice, like mine was slurred with alcohol but he was clearly enjoying it all.

  “Where did you learn this?” he asked. “Did HE teach you?”

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Did who teach me? Say it Pete!”

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Tony! Tony! Did you do this with hi
m?”

  Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “I do EVERYTHING with him! EVERYTHING!” I croaked, wriggling my pelvis as hard as I could to gain any extra pleasure I could find.

  It worked to some extent. A surge of sensation passed through me, emanating from my groin. There was pleasure to be sure, but it was never going to reach the level of orgasm. I increased the speed of my riding.

  Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Oh God Penny! You’re such a slut!”

  Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Yes I’m a slut! You’re married to a slut!”

  Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “What do you love to do slut?” he croaked.

  Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

  “Fuck my lover’s cock! I love to fuck my lover’s HUGE THICK COCK!”

  Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

  My fingers entwined with Pete’s, partly in passion but mostly to prevent myself falling forward on top of him. Now steadier, I could ride him even faster, rising higher and dropping harder and harder onto the long, slim pole of muscle that penetrated so deeply into me that it felt like I was being thumped in the belly.

  “Fuck me Penny! Fuck me you Slut!” Pete growled.

  I could feel his head beginning to swell and knew his climax could not be far away.

  “That’s right Pete! I’m a Slut! Your wife is a cheating Slut!”

  The swelling grew suddenly larger, the flared ridge of his smooth head grating against the insides of my passage. Pete’s climax was only seconds away; I had no hope of reaching one myself; all I could do was make it as powerful as possible for him.

  “Cum in me Cuckold!” I croaked, tilting my hips forward and tightening my post-childbirth pelvic floor as hard as my age and the awkward position would allow. “Cum in your Slut wife’s CUNT!”

  “Oh JESUS CHRIST PENNYYYYYYY!”

  Pete’s noisy climax came hard and fast. He clenched his muscular buttocks tightly, ramming his hips skywards, deep into my descending body. His swollen end hit my cervix so hard it felt as if I had been punched again but I didn’t complain. Instead, I faked my own orgasm outrageously to match the grunts and grimaces coming from below me before falling helplessly across his chest as if completely satisfied.