Cry Wolf for Cuckolding
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Summer Cuckolding free porn video
June was seated outside, at a crowded café, absentmindedly dangling her matching yellow mule from her bright blue painted big toe, as she sipped her coffee with her legs crossed. She was wearing that short yellow summer dress she sometimes wore to tease me except, she wasn’t wearing it for me this time.
At 35 years of age, June is what some men would call a hotwife. Indeed, she was aware of the term, and she consciously played up to its image. Her legs were long and toned from the hours she spent at the gym. While her habit of luxuriating by our pool at home had given her a light brown tan. The yellow dress, struggling to stop her big juicy breasts from spilling out, completed the image.
An earth-shattering rumble announced her date as a Harley-Davidson pulled up in front of the café. The rider cuts his engine. I knew him; he was June’s old friend Phil. He shook his long blond hair after he took his helmet off, then he threw his leathered leg over the bike. Phil was tanned and toned too from the hours he spent in the saddle and, he was tall.
June lifted her sunglasses onto her head, brushed her long straight black hair from in front of her face, revealing her beautiful eyes, then, she smiled a greeting at him. I was too far away to hear it. However, their body language spoke familiarity.
He bent over and kissed her cheek and then he pulled a seat out. She reached down to move her handbag so he would have room to sit close to her, but her tit fell out of her low-cut dress; exposing a nipple. The raised hand to her mouth said a mock “oops!” I could see our wedding ring on it. They both giggled as she slipped her nipple inside again.
The back of Phil’s leather biker vest had “West Coast Stallions” printed on it, just above the image of a stallion raised on two feet. For some reason, the thought of June as his mare struck me.
It was summer, and it was hot, but she made sure to avail of the opportunity to wear hardly anything. She was wearing her short yellow dress to please Phil. June had done her best to look good for him.
Phil ordered a coffee, and he chatted with her. Every time June spoke, her hand touched his bare tanned arm. I couldn't see, but it looked like his arm was resting on her leg. She still dangled her yellow mule from her toe under the table, while her legs were crossed. What was she waiting for now?
When he said something, she playfully laughed. There was an energy from them that caused my heart to beat fast. I was frozen to the spot as I watched from a distance.
Then, something happened. They both stopped talking as her eyes widened in surprise. Oblivious to their surroundings, Phil and June stared at each other. Sitting side on to me, all I could see were her crossed legs, face and chest, because his back blocked the rest of my view. My imagination began to fill in the rest. It told me that his hand was riding up the inside of her leg.
Leaning forward, she slipped her mule back onto her foot. Uncrossing her legs, she placed it back on the ground beneath the table; a sign that she was finished waiting. She had found what she wanted. Her legs were slightly separated now. His left arm was in front of him, but out of sight.
Her mouth opened slightly as little gasps of pleasure escaped. She did an excellent job of remaining calm, of not drawing anyone else's attention, but I could see what was happening. Phil's hand wasn't just resting on her leg. It had traveled up her leg, and it had moved in between her legs.
His hand had reached her panties, briefly stopping. His fingers brushed their only obstacle aside. June’s lips posed little resistance now because they were sopping wet. Phil’s fingers slid easily between them.
June's eyes told me those fingers were working their magic. Her face, although calm for passers-by, betrayed micro-expressions of pleasure and ecstasy.
The heat caused the condensation on the glass of water beside her coffee cup to drip wet with perspiration. The tablecloth it sat on was made of light lace, like the panties she usually wore. The light lace soaked up all the liquid from the glass as the waiter accidentally spilled it when he returned with the coffee. Suddenly, I came, and I woke up.
The bedroom was bright as the morning summer sun shone through the window. I put my hands down to my boxers and felt a gooey mess. Wet dreams were things I hadn’t had since I was a teenager. I had been having them now ever since June started talking about Phil again.
Friends in college, they had met again when he was staying at the hotel where June works. It was usually pretty quiet in this town, except for the annual biker festival every summer when thousands of bikers descended on the Island. Phil had traveled here with his biker club for it.
Phil used to be one of June’s fuck buddies in college. I knew he excited her because he was the first person to give her an orgasm. In fact, June said, Phil was the first person to fuck her brains out. I suspected that he had rekindled some of that old excitement. Moreover, I suspected it was the sort of emotion you get when you know you are going to have sex with someone you haven't slept with in ages. The fact that you remember it was good only increases the anticipation. I knew she had this anticipation.
I felt the other side of the bed with my hand; she was still not back from her “catch-up drink” with Phil. The clock said nine a.m., but she didn’t have to work today, it was one of her days off in the summer. She had told me that Phil had decided to stay an extra day after the biker festival but that his friends had gone home, so it was just going to be the two of them last night.
This summer was hot. The fan at the side of the bed blew some of the sweat off my body. I got out of bed and sat at the end of it. June liked to wear skirts and light dresses when it was hot. Not as short as the ones in my dream usually.
Why did I dream about that dress and those shoes? I had come home from work after June had left the house, so I did not see what she wore for her "catch-up." It was a dress that was our little joke. She usually wore it to tease me, sometimes when we were sitting out by the pool for barbeques with friends and sometimes when we went out for cocktails by the beach.
Her shoe rack was against the wall facing the end of the bed, overloaded with pairs of high heeled shoes of various types, including sandals, stilettos, pumps, platforms, sling-backs, and mules. They were in a wide range of colors and forms; red and slinky, black and minimalist, blue and strappy, pink and loud but, the space for the yellow mules I loved and dreamed about was empty.
I stood up and opened her wardrobe. It was full of dresses of every type; long dresses with slits, black cocktails, summery ones with flowers printed on them, as well as blouses for work. However, the short yellow one I had dreamed about was missing.
The realization that June had gone to her “catch-up” in the short yellow dress and heels I had dreamt about caused my heart to flutter. I saw the missing spot earlier on the shoe rack and sub-consciously I associated it with the dress she always wore with those heels, this caused me to dream of it.
The rumbling sound of a motorcycle engine interrupted me from my thoughts. I walked up to the window and made a gap in the blinds so I could see through them. Phil pulled up outside our house with June on the back of his bike as I looked down on them. The yellow dress June wore barely covered her ass because the motorcycle seat caused it to ride up her legs.
Her hands, wrapped around Phil's waist, held those shoes. He had the same leather vest of his motorcycle club on I remembered seeing in the old photos June had shown me. I had dreamed of it too. The ground shuck as Phil revved his engine. It struck me as if he was announcing a triumph for the whole neighborhood to hear.
The neighbors would be looking to see what the noise was. What would they see? My wife, hardly wearing anything, on top of a biker's roaring machine. It sounded like a lion’s roar of conquest.
The thought of that soaking wet lace tablecloth I dreamed about returned to me. It would be the same delicate lace cloth that would be the only barrier between June's pussy and that vibrating beast. The image I dreamed of, that lace soaking up every drop of moisture from the spilled glass, flashed before my eyes.
The noise suddenly stopped as Phil flicked off the engine. June seemed to flash herself as she awkwardly got off the bike and giggled. Phil kicked the motorcycle stand down and hopped off. Next, he steadied June with his massive arms and knelt in front of her. Taking one of her mules out of her hands, Phil placed it on her foot as she steadied herself by leaning on his shoulder. Then, he did the same with the other one. When he was standing again, she began to walk towards the house, pulling him with her.
It may sound odd that my wife was taking another man home without me doing anything about it, but we have a particular arrangement. Every so often, June can sleep with whomever she likes. When we first fell in love, June had tried to stay faithful, but it just wasn't in her nature. However, I loved her despite her promiscuity, and I could see that she also loved me.
We came up with an arrangement. Regularly, once a week, she would meet another man and have sex with him, but it must be only sex. To make sure that no greater attachments formed, she was never allowed to see the same man twice in a row. At first, when she tried this, it soon became impractical because it took time to find trustworthy men, men who would not get too attached or men who would not disrespect me.
To solve this dilemma she kept a little address book, and men who wanted to were added to it and phoned up when and if she wanted them. The only time they were allowed to contact her was if they happened to be traveling through the area, then they could try their luck. However, mostly, she arranged the dates, and they knew the drill, it was only for an unattached fuck.
Over time, she began to build an extensive list of all sorts' men. There were fifteen on the menu at the moment, and if Phil wanted to, he would be the sixteenth of her regular callers. Once a week, effectively, my wife was allowed to be a slut, but never with the same man twice in a row.
I heard the key in the door, then voices, followed by the sound of my wife’s heels clicking off the stairs as she came up. She came into the bedroom where I was waiting.
“Oh hi, hun,” she said as she gave me a hug and a kiss. She pressed up against the cum on my stomach.
“You’ve been playing with yourself at the thought of my date,” she said accusingly.
“I haven’t June, honestly.”
Her raised eyebrow said she didn’t believe me.
"It was a wet dream. I had a wet dream about you in that dress?"
Her face lit up with delight.
“You see, my dates do turn you on.”
“Maybe, a little bit,” I allowed.
“Would it be okay with you if Phil spent the day by the pool with me? I've explained the situation and that you will be here too. You are welcome to sit outside and read a book by the pool while he is here. He isn’t shy.”
“I’d love to June.”
“Oh thank you!” June practically jumped up and down on her heels with excitement.
“Why don’t you go and quickly shower and put some shorts on, get us a cocktail, and bring it to us with my address book and you can ad Phil for me. I’m going to stick on a bikini while you are in there.”
In the kitchen, after my shower, I got to work on the drinks. June liked me to make her a Pina Colada when she was entertaining a first-time guest by the pool because she liked the idea that it looked like a glass of cum. She loved, sometimes to tease the guy with the suggestion that it was; sometimes by dipping her fingers into it or letting it dribble down her tits on purpose. June was an expert teaser, and she relished in her ability.
I made a Vodka Martini for Phil and me, and I placed the drinks on a round tray with June’s address book on it along with a bottle of tanning oil. Then, lifting it, I put a towel over my forearm and went out to the pool. The azure blue water and bright clear blue sky dazzled me at first, but I pulled my sunglasses down onto my head.
I could see June now in a yellow bikini, wedge heels and sunglasses, on top of Phil, making out with him. I watched them from a distance for a second. Phil was lying on the sun lounger with June straddling him, knees pulled up to her chest, while she was distinctly dry humping the considerable bulge in Phil's boxer shorts.
At first, when I witnessed these displays of June's uncontrollable wantonness, I was overwhelmed with jealousy, but soon a curious thing happened. Soon, it began to turn me on, I stopped dreading a visit of one of June’s lovers, and soon I couldn’t wait to see her lose control.
Seeing her there, sloppily kissing Phil, and grinding her pussy unto him turned me on. It occurred to me, that if she weren't waiting to introduce me to him, she would be fucking him already. I knew she was restraining herself until the awkwardness of first introductions where finished.
A polite cough let everyone know I was there and June immediately sat up.
“Oh Phil, I want to introduce you to my husband, John.”
“Hi Phil,” I said shaking his hand.
"Hi, John, nice to meet you. June told me so much about you.”
June got up and lifted a drink down for Phil and took her Pina Colada, and then she asked Phil to move over a bit while she lay next to him after placing the tray on the table. I lay back on the sun lounger beside Phil’s, while June cuddled up to him, but Phil still sat up slightly so he could talk to me.
We relaxed and enjoyed the sun while talking about work, movies, music, his motorcycle stuff too, but mostly we talked about things we were both into, then he laughed and pointed out that we were both into June, and that we had both been in June. I laughed at that. Phil seemed to be okay, some guys could be uncomfortable, or not want to have sex in front of you, or think you were weird, but Phil was comfortable, so I was pleased.
“Hey guess what Phil,” asked June.
“What,” he asked.
“John had a wet dream about us.”
“Oh don’t tell him that,” I laughed.
“Really,” Phil said.
"Yes. John completely creamed his pants thinking about us."
June was trying to tease me now.
“Why don’t you tell us all about it?”
I was a bit embarrassed now, but I wasn't uncomfortable or wholly humiliated, because June had picked the right time and the right person to share such a private thing. I knew she was suggesting it to create intimacy between us all, so I decided to tell them about the dream.
“Oh boy! Where do I start?”
“At the beginning,” Phil said.
Sitting there beside the pool in the hot sun, but with all three of us shaded by a parasol, I started my story as they sipped their drinks and listened intently.
"Well, it all started when June said she had met you again in the hotel. She told me that you used to be fuck bodies in college and that she was going to check you out. She called it a catch-up drink”.
“June showed me some pictures of you and your image fixed in my mind. I knew it was potentially more than a catch-up because you were constantly sending text messages to one another.”
June was lying with her head on Phil’s bare tanned chest as she listened to my story.
“I knew something was up when June refused sex three days before her date. She only insists on doing that when a date is a sure thing. Then, she began wearing some of her more ultra sexy skirts, dresses and high heels to tease me.”
Phil was smirking at June now.
"She would drop things by accident and bend over to pick them up in front of me. She would have no panties on."
“You are very wicked June,” said Phil.
“Well, by the time your date came along I was extremely horny, and I had a wet dream about you both.”
“What happened in the dream,” asked Phil.
“I was spying on you both.”
“Oh,” June said.
“I wanted to see what my wife was doing, so I followed her to a café. She met you there Phil, and you were chatting for a while, and she seemed to be into you.
“Were you jealous,” asked Phil.
“A little bit.”
“But then, I got this huge surge of emotion I get when I see another man with June. There is nothing like it. Then you began touching her; your hand slid up her leg."
"Like this," Phil asked. His hand pulled my wife's bikini bottoms apart, and his finger slid inside. June’s eyes went wide like in the dream.
“Do you like watching it for real,” Phil asked.
“Oh god yes,” I said.
I loved watching it. It might seem from this story that I always got to watch, but that was not the case. Phil was unique, he was confident, so he did not mind having me there, and was happy to engage in my fantasy. However, sometimes June would come home with another guy, introduce him to me, sit and chat politely for a while, and quickly they would excuse themselves and go upstairs to June’s fucking room that she kept spare for such occasions.
When that happened, I could either stay downstairs and watch tv, go out, or go to bed. However, our room was beside June’s fucking room, so it often meant a night of no sleep because of the repeated banging of the headboard against the wall, as, whoever it was, banged my wife to within an inch of her life.
I was happy Phil and June were putting on a show for me. Phil was rubbing June’s pussy in circular motions with his fingers now. June was letting out quiet sighs of pleasure. I decided to stand up and take my shorts off. It felt free to be outside in the summer air, naked and horny. Taking the hint, Phil took June's tong off her entirely while I lay back down to watch as I stroked my cock, then he unclipped both of her wedges and threw them aside. June’s bush was almost completely shaven except for a small landing strip. Her lips were separated and slippery with wet.
“June, I guess since you were good enough to keep your pussy for me, I am going to have to taste you,” Phil said. He placed both her legs on the lounger with her knees bent and spread them apart. He knelt in front of her, brushing his hair out of his face and then he gave her sopping pussy lips a long and succulent kiss. His tongue easily slid over her well-lubricated snatch as she lay back panting.
June turned her face and gave me that wanton look she always gave me in such situations. She raised one of her manicured fingers to her red lip-sticked lips and sucked on it while she looked into my eyes. Then she brought her fingers up to her left breast and slid them under her bikini, twisting her nipple as she lay there with her legs crossed across Phil’s head. Phil wasn’t shy about getting his whole face covered in her juices. I could hear the slushing sound and his moans, as the taste of her hot quim turned him on.
Phil did a naughty thing. Lifting her legs higher, he pulled her ass up, thus exposing her pucker. He tickled it ever so lightly with his tongue, and then he slithered it all over her ass. The reaction was immediate. She screamed as her body shook with convulsions. Her first orgasm of the day surged through her. She lay in a heap exhausted for a minute.
"John, it was nice of your wife to keep her pussy for me, I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I'm more of an anal kind of guy, and as far as I remember your wife is pretty much an anal type of girl."
He was taking his shorts down as he talked. At least for him, the name of his biker club didn't lie; his cock was as thick and as bulbous as a bedpost.
"Fucking her in the pussy might give you the maximum pleasure because you will get to lick it out when I'm gone, but anally penetrating your wife in front of you is going to give me the maximum pleasure, and, if I know her like I think I do, her too.”
Phil picked up the bottle of tanning oil and squeezed it all over his hand and massaged it unto his cock.
“Please turn around and get on your knees June.”
When she was finally in the right position. Which was on her knees, on the sun lounger with her ass facing Phil. He squirted a drop of lotion unto her pucker. With his finger, he pressed it in. The more he pushed, the more her it opened until he had slid his finger in all the way.
"Oh, so tight," said Phil, "have you not been fucking this perfect ass, John?"
I didn’t answer him, but the truth was I just preferred June's pussy, and she seemed content with that.
When he took enough time to make sure she was wholly slicked up, he placed his bulbous head against her asshole, gently easing the head in first, taking his time. June gasped. He remained there for a while until she got comfortable with it, and then he pushed it in some more. June’s ass was high in the air as she put her weight on her forearms and lay her head against the sun lounger. I was stroking my cock now.
“It might seem like too much for her to take John, but you would be surprised. I just need to be gentle first.”
Slowly, Phil began to move his cock back and forth. He began to build up a rhythm, while getting ever so slightly deeper each time. His thick cock was stretching her asshole, causing moans from deep within her to escape from her mouth; each thrust of Phil's cock dislodging a cry. The thrusts were long, slow and thick.
Building up speed now, he began to get more energetic with his thrusts. The smack on her ass was the signal that the tempo was going to increase. It was the signal to me too that June, the love of my life; the woman whose eyes I had looked into and said "I do" to; the woman who had stood there on another summers day not long ago in her white bridal gown (white for innocence); was going to serve as some other mans anal fuck queen. I began to stroke faster now.
The whole length of his thick cock was now disappearing inside her ass and reappearing again. June’s head would lift up from the sun lounger from time to time so she could scream; that is until Phil grabbed her by the hair and held it up. Phil grew wilder and more animal like with guttural growls, slapping her ass again he said, "you like that don't you?"
"Oh god, yes."
“Whose slut are you?”
"I'm your slut, Phil."
“Who does your ass belong to?”
"It belongs to you, Phil."
I watched mesmerized as that long thick shaft of his sank deep into June’s asshole, the hole I did not use. There was something even more taboo about watching my wife get fucked there. June's toes curled with each thrust. The thick veiny slab of meat was relentless in its pounding as Phil repeatedly inserted it from tip to shaft.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” said June. Phil pulled her hair, so her hips would slide back into his thrusts. Then he grabbed hold of her hips and thrust into her while pulling her towards him at the same time. Phil’s guttural growls grew at the same time as June's moans rose in volume and tone. The massive stallion let out one last roar and then exploded deep in my wife's ass, as her orgasm surged through her body and left her a shivering wreck.
Her ass made a slight pop sound when Phil took his cock out of her. Phil pulled her cheeks apart so I could see. His cum oozed out of her gaping asshole. The sight of my wife’s cum filled asshole was too much, my cum shot out in spurts, all over my stomach.
“You’re a mess, June,” I said.
"Just the way you like it, John."
I kissed my wife and told her I loved her. Phil asked if he could have a shower.
“Of course you can Phil, but there is one more thing I need you to do.”
“What is that?”
I lifted the address book from the table.
“I’m sure June told you all about her little fuck-book. Would you like to be one of her studs?”
“Oh please Phil,” June begged, “even if only for a little while.”
“Well, okay then, I will be one of your callers.”
I pulled the pen out of the notebook and handed it to Phil, and he wrote, “your on-call stallion,” followed by his phone number.
I lost count of how many times Phil had fucked my wife that day after he had had his shower, but I just relaxed, read my book by the pool and enjoyed the show.
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