Penny's Promiscuity - 20 - Problems & Paranoia free porn video

Normality! Sweet, contented normality!

The next few days passed as if the previous tumultuous months hadn’t happened. My husband Pete and I got up together, had breakfast together and went to our separate places of work where, for the first time in weeks, I was able to concentrate properly on my job and not my impossibly complicated private life.

We had dinner with friends, we went for a walk at the weekend, we watched TV in the evenings; we even made love twice without my infidelities being mentioned.

I heard nothing from Will; I heard nothing from Izzy. All very dull, all very boring, all just perfect after everything that had passed.

I began to remember what a normal marriage could be like, even though I did not really have one and would probably never have one again.

I didn’t go to the gym at the sports club; the memory of what Will and I had done in the Ladies’ changing room was too fresh in my mind. Instead, I donned my calf-length tights and pink vest and went for runs along tree-lined country roads near our house.

I even began writing again, the ideas simply flooded in, demanding to be put down on metaphorical paper before they floated away to be replaced with even more vivid and even more extreme plotlines.

My email correspondence was resumed too, picking up conversations with several of my online cuckold friends and replying to messages from several readers. To my delight, one of my two long-term online female pen friends had written to let me know that her first act of infidelity had now taken place and had gone well – very well in fact. She was both nervous and excited and needed to tell someone all about it. In my role as anonymous correspondent, I was a perfect confessor.

I have to admit I felt very envious as she poured her excited feelings into her words. Memories of my first seduction by Tony came flooding back into my mind as I read her words. Despite all that has happened since, that first passionate, unplanned step into infidelity remains one of the most arousing and exciting moments of my life.

I hadn’t heard from my other female pen friend for some weeks – maybe a couple of months. Her introduction into the life-less-monogamous had taken place perhaps a year ago at the instigation of her husband. Apparently an avid reader of cuckold stories, including mine, he had put pressure on his wife for a long time, much the way Pete had done with me.

He had introduced her to my stories as a means of showing her the pleasures a change in their lifestyle might bring, especially as many of mine were written from the female point of view. She and I had exchanged messages. Eventually, she had given into her husband’s pressure, an evening with a male friend had been arranged and, according to her messages afterwards, all had gone well.

I wondered briefly what had stopped her from writing.

There were, of course, a handful of troll attacks from the usual suspects too but among them was a second, vitriolic message from a new source. As before, the style of message was much more personal than the simple, obnoxious abuse most troll messages contain and for a moment it puzzled and upset me.

But I was getting much better at ignoring these horrible things and concentrating on the nicer parts of my online life; the only secret I still kept from my husband. I deleted the message and moved on with my extraordinarily normal day.

The only evidence that my life was not normal was the two hours of blessedly moderate nausea I suffered every morning courtesy of the baby growing in my womb. Try as I might, I could not prevent this discomfort from reminding me that the biggest decision facing us had still not been made; what to do about my pregnancy.

As the days and weeks advanced, the choices open to us were becoming more limited in their scope and more severe in their implementation. The magic twelve-week watershed was fast approaching; the time beyond which the pregnancy could be considered ‘safe’ and I was more likely to carry the baby through to term than to spontaneously miscarry.

Beyond twelve weeks, only a more serious miscarriage or the unthinkable termination would bring my pregnancy to an end but more urgently, the bump in my belly would begin to be visible to more than just my husband and me. Given the high proportion of our friends who like us, had medical backgrounds, any sign of pregnancy would be spotted very quickly indeed.

For those few precious days, I was able to put even these issues from my mind but deep down I knew this domestic bliss couldn’t last. So I should not have been surprised by the sudden, unwanted way in which it ended.

As so often in my life, it all began with the buzzing of my mobile phone, this time at eleven-thirty on Wednesday evening, thereby denying me the completion of even a single week of a life that might be considered unremarkable.

It was, of course, my daughter Isobel. Who else would call so late on a weekday night? Pete and I were in bed together but, as a testament to the degree normality had returned, we had not had sex, were in our pyjamas and Pete was already asleep. I was reading my book.

When the phone began to ring and I saw who it was, I quickly got out from under the duvet, carried my buzzing handset downstairs and took the call in the kitchen full of trepidation.

“Mum?”

Even from hearing that single word I could tell from her voice that my daughter was on the verge of tears and big ones too.

“Izzy! What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.

“I’ve been dumped,” she said with a huge gulp. “Again.”

And then the tears began.

“Oh, Izzy!” I exclaimed. “I’m so sorry.”

For several minutes all I could do was sit and make soothing noises as, four hours drive away, my twenty-year-old daughter sobbed into the phone. From time to time half-intelligible words would appear but then they would be swept away by resumed heartfelt tears.

Eventually, either my words of sympathy had an effect or she managed to pull herself together on her own but finally I managed to decipher the noises that filled my ear.

“I got hold of Simon. We just talked for an hour. It’s all over, Mum.”

“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.

“It was horrible, Mum. Horrible!”

“I’m sure it was, Izzy. I’m sure it was.”

She was calming down a little but was still very upset.

“Tell me what happened,” I encouraged her.

She sniffed and blew her nose down the phone before replying.

“He said it’s finished. It’s over. I’m history.”

“Was he as nasty as that?”

“Oh he tried to be nice at first, saying it wasn’t me, it was him; that the long-distance relationship wasn’t working...”

She paused.

“Was it working?” I asked

“We could have made it work, Mum.”

I had always doubted that a distance of five hours could be overcome so easily so early in a relationship but I also seriously doubted that this was the real reason for his change of heart.

“I told him we could manage it if we tried but then he said he felt guilty about breaking up me and Steve.”

That could be true but sounded unlikely to me too.

“I told him it that was okay too; that Steve was with Lauren but he said he can’t stop thinking about the two of us together.”

I could imagine that easily; after all, he probably had a video of the two of them fucking to help him picture it.

“So you think it’s something else?” I asked innocently.

“It’s got to be the video, Mum. He all but admitted he’d seen it. That’s when I really got upset and things got nasty.”

“Oh Izzy,” I repeated, unsure what else I could say.

“We ended up saying horrible things to each other,” she began to cry audibly.

“It happens,” I tried to soothe her. “When we’re angry we say things we don’t mean and...”

“But he did mean them, Mum. He did. And what’s worse...” she took a deep breath. “He’s probably right.”

There are times just to keep quiet and let Izzy go on at her own pace. This was one of those times. I made a few tutting noises to let her know I was still there and waited for her to tell me whatever fraction of their row she thought would be appropriate for her mother to hear.

“He thinks I’m a slut. Soon everyone will think I’m a slut,” she eventually said, her voice low. “Even I’m beginning to think I’m a slut.”

“Why?” I replied, shocked to hear her say the words but not surprised to learn Simon had those thoughts.

“Once the video gets out everyone will have seen me being fucked!”

Izzy hardly ever used the ‘f’ word with me; it showed just how emotional she had become.

I loved and cared for my daughter but it was hard not to point out her own stupidity in filming herself in the first place. What did she think was going to happen with it?

“That’s not all he said, Mum,” she said uncertainly.

Oh God! There was more?

“He says I must be a slut because of how easy it was to get me into bed.”

“But he seduced you!” I protested. “Not the other way round.”

“I told him that,” Izzy wailed. “But he just said I let him into my knickers far too easily.”

“That didn’t bother him at the time,” I said angrily.

Once again the unfairness of life was driven home. For Simon to have seduced my daughter was simply part of him being ‘Jack the Lad’. For her to have succumbed made her a dirty slut. I was certain the same one-sided standards would apply if my own sexual history ever became known and that Izzy would be among the most censorious.

But then, in condemning Julie for her affair with Darren as I initially had, wasn’t I just as bad as everyone else?

Izzy was still talking.

“I know Mum, but after the video, he thinks I jump into bed with just anyone. I told him I’d only made tapes with Steve but he wouldn’t believe me.”

“You did say you couldn’t tell who the boy is,” I reminded her.

“I can tell,” she half yelled.

“I know Izzy,” I tried to placate her. “But Simon can’t. Would he not accept it was Steve? I’m sure he’s had plenty of girlfriends before you.”

“That’s what I told him. It’s not as if either of us was a virgin. But he wasn’t interested. In the end, we just said nastier and nastier things to each other until he said he didn’t want a slut who would do that sort of thing for a girlfriend.”

He had a point in my view but I knew better than to say this.

“He said couldn’t go out with a girl wondering whether every male friend of hers he met had either screwed her himself or watched her being screwed on film.”

Again in his shoes, I might have felt the same but Izzy was my daughter and maternal instincts overcome all moral judgments. Besides, I was hardly in a position to start throwing stones.

“Do you think anyone else has seen it?” I asked. “Has anyone mentioned it?”

“Well, no,” she admitted. “Not to my face at least.”

“Did he tell you how he got it? Is it just a clip?”

“I don’t know, Mum. There aren't many people it could be.”

“Have you asked Steve?”

“Yeah! Like I’m going to ask him that. Sorry, Mum, I can’t do that.”

I thought for a moment. Only someone close to my daughter or her ex-boyfriend could have leaked a movie as sensitive as this. Top of my list of suspects was Steve himself and her supposed friend Lauren - but I didn’t see what was in it for either of them. With Steve, it could be revenge but Lauren had already managed to worm her way into Steve’s bed long before the clip reached Simon.

“Do you want to come home for a while?” I asked in a voice I hoped she would find soothing.

“I can’t. I’ve got exams,” she sniffed.

“I could come at the weekend.”

“Tim is coming down,” she said.

Tim is the younger of her two older brothers; my middle child.

“He was due to come anyway,” she added.

This was a relief. Tim and Izzy had been close as children. At least she wouldn’t be on her own, she would have a shoulder to cry on and Tim’s work ethic would be good for her revision. I very much doubted she would tell him all she had told me, though. There are some things brothers don’t need to know.

“How long is he staying?” I asked.

“For the weekend at least; he’s taking a few days off. I’ll be okay with Tim.”

She was beginning to sound a little better.

“You’ll call me straight away if you aren’t okay?”

“Yes. Thanks, Mum.”

Izzy was much calmer now. Although it was nearly midnight, I did not want the call to end with my daughter still in a state of agitation so I deliberately changed the subject to try and restore normality even more. For ten more minutes, we chatted in as close to our usual fashion as was possible under the circumstances.

My mind, however, was troubled; what was it with bright, intelligent, capable girls that made them behave so stupidly when it came to boys? Given my own recent behaviour, it wasn’t only young girls that had this problem but still it troubled me.

Once I was convinced she was stable enough not to do anything stupid, we were drawing the conversation to a close. I was about to say goodbye and hang up but something made me ask one more question.

To this day I don’t know what made me think of asking my daughter this but I’m so glad I did.

“Before you go, do you know someone Keeley?” I asked as casually as I could.

“Yes. Well, I know a girl called Keeley. I don’t know if it’s the Keeley you mean. Why?”

Izzy seemed completely wrong footed by the question. So was I by her response, suddenly having to make up a reason for asking her.

“Um,” I stammered, hoping for inspiration. “The name came up during the day. I thought you were at school with someone called that I but wasn’t sure. It’s not that common a name.”

“Well if it’s the same Keeley I know, she was a year below me. Her brother was in my year. I didn’t know her well but we’re friends on Facebook now.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?” I asked casually though my chest was tight with excitement.

Izzy laughed hollowly.

“You might say that.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s engaged. It’s going to be the wedding of the year according to her. She’s getting married in September and making the biggest deal out of it. It’s all over her Facebook profile. I think she’ll be upset if Hello Magazine doesn’t show up.”

“What’s her fiancé like?” I pressed her.

“I’ve never met him,” she replied. “He works somewhere in town. From the pictures she’s posted they’re both very good looking and sporty but I don’t think either of them did well at school. Why do you ask?”

I ignored the question, instead asking one of my own.

“What’s his name?”

“Hold on.”

There was a pause as if she was checking something.

“William. Wonderful William according to her,” came the bitter reply.

My heart raced as an idea began to form in my mind.

“Thanks Izzy. I’ll call you tomorrow morning to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be okay,” she sighed. “What kind of reputation I’ll have is another question.”

And whether that reputation was deserved would be another still, I thought silently.

“Bye Mum. Thanks for being there for me.”

“Goodnight,” I said. “Love you.”

I lay awake in bed for a long time, my mind racing. When it came to the consequences of making bad decisions about sex, there but for the grace of God went Dr. Penny Barker.

My life was a complicated mess worthy of a TV Soap. Who would have believed all that had happened in less than a year?

Still, as the fuddle of thoughts in my mind became more organised, a possible route out of at least one of those problems started to take shape.

It was bold, but it might just work.

*

“It’s going okay,” my China-doll pretty friend told “I had a meeting with the lawyers at lunchtime yesterday. He’s arguing but we’re going to get it sorted.”

Julie and I were sitting in a coffee shop drinking diet Cokes. It was the following Saturday morning and I had gone straight to the sports club after breakfast for an hour’s cardio class. Pete was on his way for a round of golf with a few colleagues. I felt content; everything appeared normal – and with all that was happening in my life, I needed to do as many normal things as possible.

I hoped and prayed Will wouldn’t be at the club; being on the evening shift, I doubted he worked on Saturday mornings but even so I approached the building apprehensively.

It hadn’t felt as strange as I had expected walking through the main entrance door and lobby, despite it being only ten days since my latest sexual encounter in the changing rooms. Perhaps the sheer familiar ordinariness of the place in daytime overcame my memories of entering the spookily empty half-lit building the night before.

The same couldn’t be said of the changing room where I had actually been fucked. As I entered, my tummy had filled to the brim with butterflies, especially when I saw a rather overweight woman bending over the counter to fix her make-up in exactly the place where Will’s pleasantly large cock had entered my bent-over body.

I had watched my own penetration in the mirror in which the woman was now staring intently. When that young man had ejaculated deep within my body, my face must have been merely inches away from where the fat woman’s unsuspecting face was then. It was ridiculous but I couldn’t help wondering how my own skinny body had looked bent over in the way the fat woman’s was now.

I could feel my face and chest flushing pink with the memory so quickly shut my bag in a locker and rushed into the gym to let the exercise take the memories away. It worked to some extent and when I emerged from the studio all hot and sweaty, retrieved my bag from the locker and pulled out my phone, my anxiety was much reduced.

But when I looked at the phone’s screen and saw that I had missed a call the anxiety returned with a vengeance. My heart missed a beat when I saw it had been from Julie, more so when I listened to her message asking to meet soon.

I still wasn’t sure how I felt towards Julie, the soon-to-be-ex-wife of my first lover, Tony. Julie had walked out on her husband over a year ago and launched into a very public affair with her Personal Trainer, Darren; the boy who a year later had fathered the baby currently growing in my belly during a one night stand in his squalid shared house.

It had been Julie who had warned me that, having made me fall in love with him and almost destroyed my marriage, her estranged husband was about to drop me like a stone as he had done with so many married conquests before. I had that to be grateful for; without her telling both me and my husband about Tony’s past history, I might well have been paying expensive visits to divorce lawyers too.

Unfortunately, the chain of events that led up to Pete learning about Tony’s plans to dump me had also included Julie spending a night in bed with my husband.

I had learned several things about that night, the first being that my husband’s sexual performance had apparently been impressive. I had also learned that Julie had an extraordinarily strong and adventurous sex drive; that during a full, exhausting night of passion, she and my husband had tried many exciting new things together, including introducing Pete to the world of anal sex.

This was something he and I had never succeeded in doing in over twenty-five years of lovemaking. The fact that he had enjoyed it during the only infidelity he had committed during our entire marriage made me feel extraordinarily jealous.

But the thing that surprised me most was the discovery that, however often I had been unfaithful to Pete with Julie’s husband, the thought of him being in bed with another woman – especially her - was intensely painful. In some physical way, it felt as if Julie had become even more intimate with my husband than I had been. The thought could be almost unbearable; I tried hard not to think about it but Julie’s presence made that impossible.

It was hypocrisy of the highest order on my part but I promised myself I would be honest in my narrative, so there it is.

Despite my misgivings I had agreed to meet her in town in a couple of hours’ time. My mind and tummy were in turmoil as I walked up the shop’s main aisle towards the woman who, even then, was probably my closest friend.

“He’s not making it difficult?” I asked, meaning the impending divorce.

“Most things are owned fifty-fifty,” she replied. “And the kids are grown up so there’ll be no custody issues to fall out over. It should be okay.”

I was sure no divorce was ever that simple or amicable but it wasn’t my place to say so.

“How is he?” I asked, reluctant even to think about my affair and the terrible way it had ended.

“He’s okay,” Julie replied. “He’s seeing yet another woman now. I’m pretty sure she’s married but it’s not my problem anymore.”

We exchanged meaningful glances. When he had seduced me, Tony’s penchant for married women had come too close to home for his wife to ignore.

“Have you found a new man?” I asked, keen to move the subject away from myself.

“No-one serious,” Julie smiled then leaned closer and whispered. “I’ve been doing online dating!”

She grinned, blushing a little.

“Jules!” I gasped.

She blushed.

“Is it as wild as I’ve read?” I asked eagerly.

“No it isn’t,” she replied bitterly.

“Why?”

She took a sip of her drink before replying.

“Well, I suppose it depends what you’re looking for,” she began. “If you just want sex then there’s no shortage of men out there who are happy to provide it. Well, something approximating to sex.”

From the look on her face, I wondered whether she had taken advantage of this considerably before becoming disillusioned. I also wondered whether her year with twenty-nine-year-old Personal Trainer Darren had spoiled her for other, older men. I had to admit that my own night with him had been unforgettable.

My hands fell automatically to my lower belly where his child was now growing.

“But then you find that a lot of them are married,” Julie continued. “Or that there’s a good reason why they’re single at this stage of their lives.”

“What sort of reason?” I asked, becoming interested.

“Well personal hygiene for one!”

Julie’s face was a picture; she most definitely had taken advantage. I smiled inwardly.

“Then there’s personality, being too boring; being too mean; being useless in bed. The list is endless.”

“And yet you’re sticking with it?” I laughed.

“A girl has needs,” she grinned in return.

If anyone knew about a girl’s needs in that direction, it was me but of course I said nothing to give my secret away. I wasn’t completely sure if Julie knew about my evening with Darren; I was reasonably sure she didn’t know about my encounter with Will but she certainly knew about my affair with her soon-to-be-ex-husband, Tony.

“How are things with Pete?” she asked casually.

A bolt of anger and unease flashed through me but I steeled myself not to let it show.

“We’re good,” I told her truthfully.

“He’s not holding any grudges about you and Tony?”

‘Not as much as I’m holding them about him and you,’ I thought but did not say out loud.

“We’re trying to look to the future rather than the past,” I told her instead.

“I’m pleased,” she smiled.

Something within me mistrusted that smile. Was it possible that my friend hoped Pete and I would split up over my affair with her husband? Having spent one full night in bed with him, was Julie keen to repeat the performance? Maybe even have Pete fill the vacant place alongside her in bed full time?

Or was I just a jealous woman judging people by my own low standards?

“Well give him my love,” Julie said.

The look on her face was unintended but told me very clearly that she would dearly love to spend more time with my husband – at all possible, without me being present. The surge of jealousy that washed over me was worryingly strong.

“I will,” I smiled.

Both the smile and the promise were lies. I did not want this insatiable blonde anywhere near my husband. Having tasted forbidden fruit and satisfied her for one full passion-filled night, who knows how Pete might react if given the opportunity again?

And as for the thought of Julie on all fours with Pete’s cock in her rectum; that was almost more than I could bear.

She looked at her watch and stood up hurriedly. “Oh my God, the time! I’ve got to go.”

We kissed each other on the cheek.

“See you soon!”

*

Does pregnancy always lead to insecurity and paranoia? My last pregnancies were so long ago that I couldn’t remember but there was no doubting the way I was beginning to feel. What I do know is that the thought of losing Pete became more and more distressing and more and more prominent in my thoughts.

One night even my dreams were haunted by images of Julie, naked on her hands and knees with her blonde hair loose and hanging across her pale shoulders. Her head was thrown back and her eyes tightly closed as behind her, over and over again my handsome husband passionately thrust an erect cock that had magically become huge and intimidating over and over again into her rectum.

Though I knew it was only a dream, try as I might I could not drag my eyes away from her stretched, distorted sphincter, the thick pole of meat that penetrated it or the expression on her pretty face somewhere between agony and ecstasy as the depths of her bowels were plumbed by my husband’s cock.

Pete’s face in the dream was wild with arousal, his tummy miraculously turned into a six-pack, his shoulders as muscular and strong as Will’s. My husband’s powerful hips were slamming into Julie’s rounded buttocks with a loud, slapping sound unlike any I had heard before while she wailed and moaned in the throes of a monstrous anal orgasm.

And when he finally came, his semen spurting deep into her bowels, his face twisted and contorted into something close to Tony’s expression when he had cum in me, the look on Julie’s face as she stared straight into my watching eyes was one of pure, unadulterated triumph.

I woke in a sweat in the small hours, my breath coming in short gasps to find my husband blissfully asleep next to me and my upper thighs sticky.

*

As a result, the next few days were a strange mix of fear, concern and romance.

The concern I suffered was about our daughter. Izzy’s continued poor judgement when it came to boys and her probably rocky future kept me awake at night. I told myself she was young and robust but as her mother this did not ease my worries much.

Not being able to talk to Pete about this made it all the more difficult as did my new realisation of just how extraordinarily foolish Izzy could be when it came to sex.

To my surprise, half an hour on the internet confirmed what she had told me; that making homemade sex videos was indeed very common, or at least had been until the idea of revenge porn had reared its ugly head. From what I read, many girls’ lives had been ruined by the release of video and photographs showing them in compromising or humiliating situations. The problem had become so bad that legislation was being discussed to outlaw it as a form of abuse, defamation or even assault.

I remembered the item on the news. At the time I had wondered how stupid a girl must be to make such things and put herself at the mercy of any man, boyfriend or otherwise. Now of course I had a bright, intelligent daughter who had done just that.

And my own sexual record was not completely free of bad decisions, was it?

The fear came from our continued inability to decide what to do about my pregnancy. Unwilling to put me under pressure in any direction, Pete appeared to be leaving the decision to me, even if that decision was to do nothing and let nature take its course. While I was pleased that he respected my independence and the fact that it was my body in which the baby was growing, there were times when I would have welcomed a little more clarity about what he really believed we should do.

If I was to have the unmentionable and unthinkable termination, the sooner it happened, the better it was for everyone. I had to make my mind up quickly on that, but long before the deadline for a termination arrived, my pregnancy would be almost impossible to hide.

Most of our friends and all our colleagues were from the medical world and would very quickly spot the signs I so badly wanted to hide. Two close friends were gynaecologists for God’s sake! Indeed I was beginning to believe some of my colleagues at work had already guessed and were looking at me strangely.

I was even more concerned about how Izzy and her older brothers would react if my pregnancy became known or, far worse, the way in which it had occurred. Like most kids, our three didn’t want to imagine that their parents had a sex life at all, let alone an adventurous one involving other people.

That needed to be kept secret at all costs.

It was just all just paranoia but it worried me. The consequences could be severe; if my pregnancy became common knowledge, the vast majority of damage to our careers and family would already have been done whether I had the child or not.

The ‘obvious’ solution of termination was simply horrific to think about. At the very least, the damage it could do to my husband’s career if it became known his wife had had an abortion was immense. His international reputation would be in tatters which would have a profound effect on his career and our financial stability.

But the effect on me could be much worse. From my medical background and especially from my husband’s specialism I knew what an abortion involved. I knew what it inflicted physically on a woman’s body let alone the unborn child’s and that was bad enough.

What really worried me though was the effect it could have on a woman’s mind. One of my closest friends had accidentally become pregnant following an unplanned night of wife-swapping on holiday with friends. As far as I knew, apart from those actually involved, I was the only person to know this.

She had chosen the ‘obvious’ solution and had a termination, hoping her life could return to normal.

It had not.

My friend had been haunted and tormented by it ever since, believing that she had murdered her baby. This had all emerged one evening when she had broken down in front of me after our conversation had turned to a pregnant friend of ours. No matter how many times I had tried to reassure her over the past years; despite now being remarried and having had two more children she had never got over the abortion. On the anniversary of the procedure each year she still claims to get cramps in her belly and I know she has recurring nightmares even now.

It seems that however educated, experienced and objective a woman is in her normal life, the deliberate destruction of an unborn child can cause permanent psychological damage. The prospect seemed to paralyse my normally-clear thought process whenever I tried to make a decision. As a result my pregnancy was advancing; with every week that passed, the risks and potential consequences of exposure increased.

Fortunately, the fears and concerns were balanced by the extraordinary amount of romance in my life, provided by my wonderful husband. Once again I understood just how lucky I was to have him.

To my relief, there were as yet no unpleasant consequences of my decision to use my body to try and eliminate the threat Will had presented. At any event, there were none from my husband; Pete had treated me like a princess ever since he had arrived home on Friday night and comprehensively reclaimed my body once again.

Reassuming the Alpha Male role he had temporarily put aside, Pete had taken firm control of our relationship once again in every respect except my pregnancy. He brought me flowers, took me to dinner in a fabulous restaurant; and at his insistence, we had spent all Sunday walking in bright sunshine in the Peak District, something we both loved and which brought us closer together.

In between we had made love more times than I could remember, Pete leading me into each passionate copulation, taking control, sometimes demanding a blow-by-blow description either of my evening with Will in the sports club changing room or a re-run of my full night with Darren in their shared house, sometimes merely taking me with a passion that surprised and delighted me.

For some reason, neither of us felt this in any way demeaning. In fact, rather than feeling humiliated at having been made a cuckold, Pete seemed bizarrely proud of me for having attracted and satisfied such young and attractive men. He even seemed proud that I was able to conceive at my age, making no attempt to persuade me either to terminate my pregnancy or keep the baby, giving me space to think things through for myself.

The love I felt for my husband grew even warmer and my fear of hurting him or losing him grew stronger. However often I told myself it was imagination, the thought of my pretty, sexually adventurous and very available friend Julie having my husband in her sights kept forcing itself into my mind.

To be fair to Pete he showed no sign of dissatisfaction with the quality of our own physical sex life but there were continued and increasingly frequent reminders that he had still not been able to live out his main fantasy; that of watching me being fucked by another man.

I had been enjoying my fantasies for months; he had yet experience his. Listening to the stories would no longer be enough for him; action was needed and needed soon.

Knowing that his sole extramarital lover Julie was available and apparently still interested, my paranoid thoughts multiplied. I had to deliver the goods before frustration drove my husband into the hands and bed of this blonde, adventurous, china-doll-pretty temptation once again.

But his continued frustration didn’t mean the fucking I had received from Darren and Will couldn’t be talked about; far from it! Indeed there seemed no limit to the number of times Pete could listen to the story of his wife’s infidelities, reaching new levels of excited arousal and energetic performance with each bedroom jaunt.

I even came close to orgasm myself on one occasion but I couldn’t help notice a faint look of disappointment in his eye when he inevitably mentioned the fact that he had not been there to see it all.

I knew this had to change if our lifestyle and our marriage were to work.

Pete clearly knew this too; the trail of escort websites in the history of our PC's browser had been growing longer and longer. Recently however, it seemed that my husband had settled on the sites and reviews of only two specific escort couples. He had even made them favourites.

The subject came up as we sipped our coffees in the smart restaurant on Saturday evening. The meal had been simply delicious and we had enjoyed it side by side in a discreet private booth in a quiet corner. I had dressed moderately sexily in high heels and a short cocktail dress which exposed rather more of my bare thigh than I had expected. Pete had taken this as an invitation to explore my body under the table cloth throughout the meal, something I should have brought to a halt but which I must confess turned me on more than a little – once I was sure no-one could possibly see of course.

As our coffees were refilled, Pete passed a small box wrapped in gold paper across the table towards me. He was smiling knowingly. I picked it up, opened the paper carefully and looked inside the box.

It was my Pandora bracelet, but instead of the series of blue charms it used to bear, there were only three, all different colours. I looked at my husband with a raised eyebrow.

“The blue is for your first, our mutual friend,” he said, apparently still unwilling to say Tony’s name. “One will do for him. The red is for Darren – the colour of his Personal Trainer uniform and the green is for Will for the same reason.”

“I like it,” I smiled, leaning in to kiss my husband lightly on the lips.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

“I see there’s plenty of space for more,” I said, slowly leaning back in my chair and looking him straight in the eye.

“I hope to see it full one day,” Pete said equally slowly and meaningfully. “But this time not too many of any one colour, agreed?”

After the messy end of my affair with Tony, I did not want a long term relationship with anyone but my husband again. If the lifestyle did begin once more, there would be no ongoing affairs.

“Agreed,” I nodded.

I looked at the silver and glass in my hand. Memories of my affair with Tony came flooding back but I knew I could not talk about that time with Pete; the wounds were still too fresh. I had fallen in love with Tony; I had come close to leaving my husband for him and probably would have done if his real character hadn’t revealed itself by dumping me as soon as my marriage had hit the rocks.

Even so, the physical memory of Tony’s stumpy, misshapen but oh-so-thick cock inside my oversized vagina was impossible to dislodge completely.

“Have you thought about... what I suggested?” I asked innocently in case anyone could overhear.

Pete understood immediately; I was referring to the idea I had put to him that we should give my husband his fantasy using a professional, paid fuck-buddy. Pete had baulked at the idea at first, talking about prostitutes rather than escorts, the term I preferred.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he replied enigmatically.

He was doing more than just thinking if his browsing history was to be believed but I just smiled encouragingly

“Feeling any more positive?” I asked.

“I’m... I’m getting there,” he replied. “Slowly.”

A warm glow passed through me. Pete had been unbelievably understanding about my infidelities the past months. The more I gave him back now, the happier we both would be – and the less likely he would be to fall into Julie’s grasp.

“Is that why you brought this out again?” I indicated the Pandora Hotwife bracelet.

“I suppose it is,” he grinned.

“In that case, would you fasten it back on my wrist?”

“Can’t you manage?” he joked.

“Given what it represents,” I said quietly. “I think it would mean more to us both if you did it.”

As my husband carefully sealed the silver fastener shut, it felt as if he was sealing our future too. I jiggled my hand around, looking at the coloured charms in the restaurant’s low candlelight. They glowed warmly as my belly glowed, remembering how they had been earned.

I was going to be a Hotwife once again and soon too, but this time we would get it right.

*

The air of normality in my life continued on Monday morning. Once the hour or two of blessedly moderate morning sickness had passed, the day promised to be another uneventful, unremarkable start to the week. It was the kind of boring day I had loathed in the past but which now was all I wanted. A day in which my adulterously-conceived pregnancy, my sexually misguided daughter, my predatory best friend and even my husband’s increasingly expressed desire to watch himself being cuckolded could temporarily be forgotten.

Pete and I had woken together, sipped tea together, breakfasted together, dressed in normal, everyday clothes, kissed each other goodbye in the driveway as we had for decades and gone off to our separate jobs.

As I drove to work, the familiar binging sounds coming from my phone told of multiple emails arriving and promised a busy start to my week. I welcomed that; I needed to be Dr. Penny Barker again. I needed to remind myself that until the previous November when Tony, my first ever lover had seduced me, I had been a career scientist working on an international stage. I still had a team of scientists beneath me and a global reputation in my field to maintain.

My behaviour since Tony had first seduced and fucked me unceremoniously on our lounge floor had been dominated by the contents of my knickers. I had to remember that there was more to Penny Barker than the cock-hungry slut the previous months had unexpectedly released from deep within me.

The day helped, delivering even more normality than it had promised, with minor crises, a great deal of admin and the promise of more to come. It was lunchtime before I had a chance to go through all my work emails and late afternoon before I could sit back with a coffee and check both my personal and my secret author’s inboxes.

I was pleased to have received a handful of messages from readers in the latter inbox. I read them all quickly; there was nothing that couldn’t wait for the morning. I could reply during the hour I usually had on my own before my husband woke up. There was a troll attack too, disappointingly this time from a new email address and in a new style though the content was just as hateful.

My personal account contained mostly adverts but among them was a message from my older son Josh who seemed to think four lines of typed text was as good as calling his mother on the phone. He was wrong!

I read it briefly; he and his girlfriend wanted to see us on Sunday to give us some news.

If the news was that they were getting engaged, this would come as no surprise to anyone. The two of them had been together for years and were more or less living as man and wife now. Babies would no doubt follow soon after but, I smiled wryly, I had my own problem in that department to deal with first.

For a moment the incongruity struck me; should a women my age with a son about to be married really have let herself be fucked half stupid by a boy younger than that son? Once was bad enough but twice?

Fortunately I had heard nothing from my daughter since the call in which she had told me about the break-up with her most recent boyfriend. Perhaps her brother was providing a shoulder on which to cry should she need it.

I thanked God for older brothers for perhaps the first time in my life.

Monday evening arrived; Pete and I ate dinner together then he went into the study to work for an hour or so while I surreptitiously added a few paragraphs to the latest chapter of my story before joining my husband in the bedroom where he was waiting with sexual intent.

Although it was only Monday, when we had agreed not to split up and the Geneva Convention of our marriage had been agreed, I had promised myself I would never deny my body to my husband unless there was a serious reason for doing so.

Sex therefore was very much on the menu when I went to bed and I was looking forward to it.

Once there, my husband’s mouth and then his cock drove all my worries from my mind. As I came over and over again, my juices flowing freely onto Pete’s handsome, loving face, my thighs clamped either side of his head, the words ‘Oh God! Oh God!’ kept coming from my mouth.

'Like mother, like daughter?' I wondered as I drifted off to sleep half an hour later.

*

Tuesday passed in similar vein but predictably, it wasn’t long before this idyll came to an end.

It was Wednesday morning and I was driving to work. The traffic was unusually heavy so I was stuck in the car for some time. Annoying though this was, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise because when my phone rang and the words ‘Will Mobile’ appeared there was no-one around to see.

I literally jumped in my seat at the sight of his name on the screen. My heart thumped and a strange thrill passed through me! The thrill was powerful and sexual; my mind told me that this was not the way I was supposed to feel but my body couldn’t help itself.

For a moment I contemplated rejecting the call and letting my voicemail protect me from the danger this intrusion represented. But that would have been cowardice and would only have delayed the difficult task, probably to a much more awkward moment.

I touched the green button on the screen

“Hi,” I said uncertainly.

To my annoyance my voice was trembling a little.

“Hi Penny,” came the familiar youthful voice. “It’s Will.”

“Hi Will,” I replied nervously, still sounding like a schoolgirl when in the presence of her biggest crush.

For a second I wondered what he wanted but then metaphorically kicked myself; I knew full well what he wanted. I had been expecting a call some time so should not be surprised it had happened.

What I most certainly had not expected was the surge of excitement that rose unbidden within me at the sound of my most recent lover’s voice.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I replied, my throat still tight. “I’m on my way to work.”

“Can we talk?”

“There’s no-one else in the car.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called earlier,” he began.

“That’s oka,y Will,” I told him softly. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I thought about sending you flowers but then I thought...” he began.

“Will, you mustn’t do that. I’m married. It would be too risky.”

He let the words sink in a moment.

“Besides we’re not having an affair,” I added. “We made lo... you fucked me, that’s all that happened.”

“But…”

“You did it very well but that’s all it was; a fuck,” I interrupted.

Why had I felt the need to tell him that? And why had my tummy rumbled as I said the words?

“I’d... I’d like us to meet again,” he said

My heart thumped even louder. It was what I had been expecting to hear but I had not expected to feel so pleased it had been said. 'Shit!' There was a warm glow developing between my thighs too.

'Get a grip, Penny!'

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I replied without conviction.

“Didn’t you enjoy our last.... meeting?”

“You know I did,” I told him honestly.

“Then why wouldn’t you want another?”

I took a deep breath before saying words designed as much to convince myself as to convince him.

“Will, I’m married. Okay, I’m not the perfect faithful wife but I still have a husband.”

“Doctor Peter Barker, yes I know about him.”

“I’m married to him. I’m supposed to be faithful to him.”

“But you aren’t faithful, are you?” he asked.

“No, Will. Not all the time.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, Will. I love him a great deal.”

“But you still cheat on him?”

“It’s complicated, Will,” I replied weakly.

“I bet it is,” he laughed. “Does your husband know about you and Darren? You and me?”

This was difficult; if I said no it would reinforce his belief that he held something over me. If I said yes it would tell him more than he needed to know about our lifestyle.

At the moment Will thought the biggest threat was my husband finding out about my one night stands. The truth was that the biggest threat to our lives and family was if our friends, colleagues or – God help us – our children found out what we had been up to.

And Will didn’t even know about the pregnancy yet! That multiplied the risk many times.

It was time to be assertive.

“Will, we can’t go on like this. Either you’re blackmailing me into having sex with you or you’re a friend I chose to have sex with. You told me you weren’t interested in money; surely trying to coerce me into sex in no better.”

“I’m not a blackmailer,” he insisted. “And I’m not trying to coerce you. I just thought...”

“You just thought I was an easy lay and had been so amazed by your performance last time that I couldn’t wait to let you fuck me again. Am I right?”

The silence on the other end of the phone told me I was very right; Will thought I was a pushover and had expected me to fall back into his arms and his bed with ease.

What he didn’t know – and I had only now discovered from my instinctive reaction to his call - was that he was very right too. I had been overwhelmed by the way he had fucked me. Whatever my mind was saying, my body couldn’t wait to feel that way again.

“And just in case I was having doubts you thought a little threat to tell my husband would push me over the edge and into your bed,” I continued as much to distract myself.

“So was I right?” he replied in a challenge that wrong-footed me for a moment. “Are we going to fuck again?”

This time it was my turn to pause. I had thought I was in control, now I wasn’t so sure. The pause was lengthy as I tried to balance the need to make Pete and my lives safe against the surge of lust that was pulsating through my whole body.

“Maybe,” I eventually replied.

It was a stupid, weak response but its effect on Will was instant.

“That’s not a complete ‘no’ then?”

“It’s not a complete ‘no’,” I confirmed.

I thought for a moment. If I had listened only to my body I would have simply said yes and gone to meet my fate in the expectation of an evening just as satisfying as my night with Darren had been.

The prospect was much more enticing than I was comfortable with.

But the Penny who would have done all that had nearly lost her husband, her family and the respect of her friends. I was a new Penny now; a Geneva Convention Penny who was trying to bring this illicit relationship to a safe conclusion, not prolong it, however amazing the sex would undoubtedly be.

And there was no question of the new Penny going to bed with anyone without her husband’s knowledge and agreement. Besides, the beginnings of an idea were beginning to form in my brain.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow morning,” I said firmly. “I’m not saying yes, though.”

“Okay,” he said a little downcast.

“I’m at work now Will. I have to go.”

“Speak soon?”

“Okay. I’ll send you a message.”

“Have a good day Penny.”

“You too, Will.”

I pressed the red button to end the call and swore out loud.

What was it about me that made me do such stupid things? I was nearly fifty-two for Christ’s sake. Why couldn’t I go to garden centres or wives groups, or do flower arranging like other women my age?

Why did the contents of my knickers have to get me into so much trouble?

*

“I need you to let me see him one more time,” I said anxiously over dinner that evening.

“Jesus, Penny,” Pete began. “I thought...”

“I told you it might not be over,” I insisted. “He wants to see me again.”

Pete was on the verge of anger now. It was evening of the same day and we were sitting at the table having eaten dinner together as we had so many times before. Indeed life had been so normal and so companionable that it was only with the greatest of reluctance that I had raised the subject of Will again.

“Please, Pete,” I begged. “I think I can sort it once and for all. I just need you to let me meet him once more and...”

“And be fucked silly by him,” my husband filled in the gap for me.

“Well, yes,” I conceded. “Fucked anyway. But if you let me do it, I think I can fix everything. It would be the last time.”

“Do you have to go through with it?” he asked. “I mean, if it’s going to be the end, do you have to actually let him fuck you again?”

I took his hand in mine, pleading.

“It won’t work if he doesn’t, Pete. If I’m going to fix it properly, I need him to fuck me one last time.”

There was a long pause.

“We’ve had such a lovely week,” he said quietly. “I thought...”

“I know,” I said quietly. “And I wish it wasn’t like this. It’s only one more time,” I insisted. “But..”

“Oh God! There’s more?”

“But... it has to be here, Pete. In our bedroom.”

“What?”

“It has to be in our bedroom, in our bed. Otherwise...”

“Otherwise what?”

“Otherwise it won’t work,” I told him truthfully, hoping Pete would see the pain in my eyes and not ask for too many details.

“What are you planning to do?” he demanded, not unreasonably.

“Please, Pete. I need you just to trust me,” I pleaded.

“That’s a big ask,” he countered.

It took another full hour before Pete finally agreed and even then it was only grudgingly. I could see I had pushed his tolerance as far as it could go. This had to work. There would be no more acceptance of private infidelity after this.

I silently prayed that my plan would come though. If it did not, the life of a pregnant divorcee in her fifties was looking me in the face.

But the following morning as I anxiously picked up my phone and began to send a message to Will, I thought it might just be okay.