by Vivi King
The bizarre combination of banality and adultery was surprisingly arousing.
The beast within me must have thought so too because the breeding frenzy struck hard and fast. Almost before the team lists could be put on screen, I was begging Tony once again to knock-up my
cheating cunt and put a baby in me there and then.
Though no longer physically possible thank to Tony’s vasectomy, the feral cries of a woman in heat helped spur both of us to a very pleasant mutual climax.
We lay on the rug afterwards, panting and sweating as my body began to absorb the ropes of Tony’s semen it had just gratefully received. I leaned back against his chest, feeling the reassurance of his long, slim body against mine, his warm breath on the back of my neck as his hands toyed with my sides and tummy.
It felt... perfect!
***
I sneaked into our house afterwards. Pete had come home and was working in the study so he didn’t get the chance to see his sweaty, semen-encrusted wife running upstairs and into the shower where she washed the sticky evidence of cheating from her body.
The idea of feeling guilty never occurred to me.
11
“So would you be prepared to help me Penny? To help us?”
I was sitting in the bar of the gym club that my husband Peter and I belonged to, having a post- spinning-class glass of wine – okay a second glass of wine with my friend Julie.
Julie was a close family friend, the blonde, petite, china-doll-pretty, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth estranged wife of my regular lover, Tony.
Tony had left over a year ago because at the time she had started a highly public affair with a man more than twenty years her junior, a Personal Trainer at the very club in which we were sitting. Despite being the same age as me to within a few weeks, Julie appeared to be positively thriving on her new sexual existence. To my considerable envy she was looking slimmer, fitter and at least ten years younger than before her affair had started.
But the reason I was staring at her that evening was something entirely different; to my horror, Julie had just asked if my husband Pete and I would help re-unite her with her estranged husband once again.
My friend’s words had rather stunned me. Apart from the fact that for the last year she had been telling me how wonderful life with a younger man could be and how sexually satisfied she now was, she was also apparently unknowingly asking me to break up the only affair I had ever had in over twenty years of marriage.
The fact that my husband had encouraged me to take a lover and had aided and abetted me in making our new Hotwife-Cuckold relationship a reality didn’t diminish my amazement.
I looked at my friend as she sat opposite me, her tight jeans and tighter top showing off her well-
toned, athletic figure. She looked very attractive. Up until her affair began, I had always considered Julie to be my closest female friend. We had met during ante-natal classes and remained close ever since. Our children had been born within a few months of each other, we had dealt with nurseries, schools and now Universities at the same time, we had gone on holidays and day trips together. Indeed, until my own affair with her husband had started a few months ago, our ‘other halves’ had been good friends too.
Julie’s affair with her Personal Trainer was now over a year old. At first it had stunned all our circle of friends, especially her almost complete lack of discretion about the whole thing; everyone who was anyone knew all about it.
Knowing Tony as well as I did, I was sure that it was the brazen flaunting of her new sexuality that had made him leave her as much as the infidelity itself. From my own unusual marriage I knew only too well how some men enjoy being cuckolded but I also knew how important it was to limit the humiliation the cuckold had to suffer.
There was no way I would have wanted my own Hotwife lifestyle or my husband’s status as willing cuckold ever to become public knowledge, but that is exactly what Julie had done to Pete.
“Are you serious?” I asked, amazed. What about...?” I asked, not knowing quite how to allude to her young lover.
“Him? He’s history,” she replied with a callousness I hadn’t suspected she possessed. “I’ve dumped him... well almost.”
“Almost?” I asked, suspiciously.
“It’s not going anywhere. It’s time to move on.”
Her words were firmb but I could see something in her eyes that told me there was more to learn. I knew better than to press her for more; instead I simply ordered a third glass of wine for us both and kept the chat going.
“I thought he’d more or less moved in,” I said, deliberately challenging.
“That’s what he thought too,” Julie replied bitterly. “I’m not having another man take me for granted.”
I paused, wondering how to move the conversation onwards.
“Is that what Tony did?” I asked, deciding on the direct route.
“Isn’t that what they all do after twenty years?” she replied, again bitterly. “Especially in bed. Be honest Penny.”
If I had been honest, I could have told her that in my case taking me for granted sexually was the last thing my husband Pete was doing. Far from it; he was making sure I got what I wanted in the bedroom department, even if it wasn’t him delivering the goods.
“So why do you want to get back with him?” I asked. “Won’t you just get disappointed again?”
Given the amazing things her husband was doing to me in bed, I could scarcely believe any woman could get bored with it. But people were strange; maybe familiarity had bred contempt, as perhaps it had done in my own marriage until recently.
“Maybe I’ve found out that there’s more to life than sex after all,” she whispered, leaning in closer. “Trust me Penny, there’s only so far a good fuck can keep your mind off the untidiness, the smell of sweaty clothes and the childish behaviour. At times it’s like having the kids back home when they were teens.”
I laughed as she intended me to though she was using the ‘f’ word in a way I had never heard her use it before. It reminded me of the way Pete and I now talked.
“I miss Tony,” she added quietly. “I miss the kids too.”
“It’s taken you long enough to realise that,” I observed.
“I’m a slow learner,” she grinned wanly. “Besides, I had plenty to keep my mind off him. I’ve got over it now.”
There was a long pause during which Julie studied me closely, waiting for me to respond to her initial request.
“You’ve really hurt him, you know?” I said quietly. “Do you think he’d want to get back with you? Have you talked to him? Has he said anything?”
The question sounded as bland as I could make it, but I was desperate to know the truth; had Tony been considering getting back with his wife at the same time as he was telling me he wanted me to stay with him?
“We’ve talked,” she told me. Though Tony had mentioned it once or twice, it still felt like a form of betrayal which should have told me my own relationship with him had already got way beyond just sex. “He hasn’t said he’ll come back, but he hasn’t said he wouldn’t either,” she replied unhelpfully.
“Can he really just forgive and forget?” I asked, amazed. “After all that’s happened?”
“I hope so,” she said. “I’ve an idea he’s found someone else. He’s different these days. I haven’t found out who it is yet but I will. I don’t know if it’s serious but if he and I could spend more time together like we used to; if it could all feel normal again, perhaps I could convince him to try again,” she continued.
This was worrying; Tony and I would have to be careful how and when we met if Julie was spying on him. But she hadn’t finished.
“If you and Pete invited us both out to dinner, or even round to your house, then Tony might feel more prepared to spend time with me instead of just talking on the phone.”
Obviously nothing could ever be ‘normal’ again between me, Tony and Pete; I couldn’t imagine even broa
ching the subject with my husband.
“I’m not sure he’d come Jules,” I said trying to keep her expectations low.
“But he might! Please say you’ll help, Penny! Please!”
***
Julie’s proposal kept me thinking right up to Valentine’s Day. From our pillow talk I knew perhaps better than he did how much Tony missed the life they had enjoyed before her affair. On the one hand he might jump at the chance of getting some of that back. On the other hand, he had clearly been hurt by his wife’s very public affair and was trying to keep his options open with me.
I did learn from Sports Club gossip that she and her young boyfriend had indeed parted ways; he had been seen several times in the company of one of the female Personal Trainers and in the car of another of his clients, another woman around my age.
So Julie was free to get back with her husband – if he would have her.
At that time I most certainly did not want my lover to get back with his wife, but a refusal to help
would damage my relationship with her and, worse, might well result in too many questions being asked and my own affair becoming as public as hers.
Things could get very messy.
***
Valentine’s Day itself was midweek. My husband Pete and I exchanged cards and romantic gifts as usual then spent a relatively normal day at work. A bouquet of flowers arrived mid-morning with only a red heart on the accompanying card. This was awkward; who should I thank?
When I returned to the car park there was a card under the wiper of my car. I sat in the driver’s seat and opened it, my heart thumping. It was from Tony of course, the handwriting gave that away. It was also obscene; possibly the most explicit Valentine’s Day card I had ever seen but along with the rather graphic description of what he would try and do to me next time we met, there was a short, hand-written note with a very different theme.
A theme not just of sex, but of love.
It also made clear that the flowers were not from him which made my arrival home twenty minutes later a lot more relaxed.
I was even more pleased to receive a message on my phone from our daughter Isobel to say that her new boyfriend Simon had not only sent her a card and flowers, but had arrived in person to take her out to dinner and stay overnight in her room. As this had involved a journey from London of over four hours, it showed a level of commitment that was heart-warming.
Simon was the boy who had seduced my foolish daughter at a recent University ball, thereby unintentionally breaking up her long standing relationship with her previous boyfriend. Their lovemaking had apparently been so passionate throughout the entire night they had spent fucking that Izzy’s cries had earned her the unfortunate nickname ‘Izzy-Oh-God! I had yet to meet Simon – I hadn’t even seen a photo of him but had been assured by my somewhat chastened daughter that he was drop-dead-gorgeous.
Pete took me out to dinner in one of our city’s finest and most romantic restaurants. The taxi was German, the waiter was Polish, the food was French, the wine from New Zealand, the water from Scotland but the sex that followed was truly British and very pleasant indeed.
As usual with Pete’s long, thin cock I didn’t reach orgasm but I wasn’t too far away and the copious
insemination that followed went a long way towards making up for the minor disappointment.
When we were lying side by side afterwards, Pete reached into the bedside cabinet and pulled out a small rectangular package. He gave it to me with a kiss.
“A little extra present,” he smiled.
“The flowers were more than enough,” I protested. “And the chocolates.”
Pete had given me my favourite confectionery as well.
“They were for Public Penny, my wife,” he grinned. “This is for the Hotwife Slut she’s turned into!”
I opened the wrapping and pulled out a small jewellery box. Inside was a gold chain, too long to be a bracelet but too short to make a good necklace. I looked at Pete, puzzled.
“It’s a Slut Wife anklet,” he said. “For you to wear on your dates – or when we’re out together and you want to remind yourself and me what you’ve become.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the word ‘slut’ in that context but the evidence was hard to deny. My secret dates with Tony and the intensity of our lovemaking made the term feel even more appropriate.
“We can add charms if you like,” he continued. “I found it on the net; there’s a good few to choose from.” He chuckled. “I wanted to get one for each ankle with the words ‘Open’ and ‘Here’.”
I laughed too; it was a good idea. I was sure Tony would love it.
“So when do you think I might get to watch you being fucked?” he asked, the familiar theme reappearing. “It was part of the deal, remember?”
“I don’t know Pete,” I replied, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice. “I’m not sure you and Tony in the same room while I’m being fucked would be a good idea.”
“In which case you need another fuck-buddy,” Pete insisted. “It wasn’t supposed to be an exclusive arrangement with him, was it? I thought having lots of lovers was part of the attraction.”
It was – or at least it had been when my Hotwife existence had started two months ago. Now, after spending so much time with Tony and feeling the way we were both beginning to feel about each other, I wasn’t so sure.
With our second romantic overnight stay in the discreet, country house hotel still ahead of us, my ability to concentrate solely on the joys of physical sex was becoming very uncertain.
***
“I love you, Penny Barker,” Tony said quietly. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time.”
It was two days later and we were lying in bed together in our country house hotel. We were naked, sweating and panting in the small hours of Saturday morning, tired but satisfied after a wonderful hour of wild, tipsy, energetic sex to celebrate the recently-passed Valentine’s Day.
I had had to lie to my husband to be there; Pete believed me to be taking part in a conference in London as he had the last time Tony and I had enjoyed an overnight stay in the same hotel. It was definitely not what Pete and I had agreed; I wasn’t supposed to see my lover without my husband’s agreement but things had got a bit out of hand.
Unable to wait the planned full week between dates, I had now seen Tony four times without Pete’s knowledge, each deception that little bit easier than the one before, each adding to the illicit thrill of the whole affair.
Perhaps as a result of this extra edge, when Tony’s cock had entered my body after a romantic dinner and a night-time walk hand in hand in the darkness of the gardens, the breeding frenzy had struck me with a vengeance. I had been forced to bite hard on one of the crisp white pillows to stifle the crude animal noises that were emanating from my throat. Now, as I lay there, freshly inseminated, my head was spinning, my hips ached and my still-shaved vulva was red raw where Tony’s pubic hair had ground hard against it.
“I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since the kids were in nursery,” he continued. “I never dreamed it would actually happen. I’m so glad it has.”
I chuckled and kissed him on his salty lips. “That feeling is mutual.”
“Was it mutual back then?”
“I’m not telling,” I said coquettishly. “Maybe it was; maybe you just grew on me.”
We both knew full well that there had been a spark between us for many years. Indeed ten years ago when I had first started writing there had been a couple of near-misses where, had circumstances
been different, he and I might well have fallen into bed a whole decade before it had actually happened.
The stories I wrote at the time had been under one of my early male pseudonyms and told the tale of how I would have loved to seduce him and start an affair with him. Writing as if I was the man being seduced, seeing myself as the seducer from Tony’s point of view had been a strange experience but it had helped me deal with an otherwise dry patch in
my marriage while remaining faithful to my husband in body, if not in spirit.
Now of course the fantasy had become a reality, my fidelity was long gone and our affair was all around us.
I remembered those fantasies well and how wide of the mark I now knew them to have been. In my fantasies, I had never imagined Tony’s cock in detail; it had simply been something vaguely large and expertly wielded that brought me great pleasure. In reality, his erect cock was short and stubby but very thick, bringing a fresh tightness when thrust into to my over-sized vagina that had been lacking since the last of my children had been born.
Tony slipped his arm around me and held me close on the bed. I could feel his heart beating in his nearly hairless chest and could smell the distinctive masculine aroma of a strong man soon after he has cum. It was an aroma that spoke to the most basic, almost primeval parts of my soul, especially when his life-creating fluid was lying as deep within my own body as Tony’s was then.
I inhaled and closed my eyes, basking in the truly rewarding, entirely feminine, earth-mother aura that for me, a full and copious insemination always produced.
“I think we’ve gone way beyond just fucking now, don’t you?” Tony said dreamily as he massaged my tiny left boob. “I think I’ve really, actually fallen in love with you. Mrs. Barker.”
The instinctive response was to say that I loved him too. The words were on the tip of my tongue but I stopped them just in time. There was no doubt in my mind that I did love this man but I wasn’t ready to hear myself admit it as openly as I felt it. Something told me that to say those three words at that time, in that room and in that atmosphere would change everything.
“I don’t want tonight to end,” he continued. “I want you to come home with me; live with me; make babies with me.”
“It’s a bit late for that,” I smiled. Although my menopause still hadn’t started, Tony’s vasectomy ten years before had ensured that pregnancy was the least of our concerns. “But I suppose we could
