Penny's Promiscuity - 6 - Cuckold Copulation free porn video

As I drove home from work that Wednesday evening – the day our lives changed - all I could think was how extraordinary my husband really was, and of course of the incredible events of the last few weeks.

I’m not sure how I expected to feel the day after I told Pete that after over twenty years of faithful monogamy, I had been having an affair with a close family friend. I’m not sure I had thought it through any more carefully than I had planned my affair. I had, I might have suspected that he would react differently from other men; after all, he had been urging me to take a lover for many months. But when the moment had come to tell him, it had come unexpectedly and I had just blurted it out and hope for the best.

But whatever Pete’s reaction was, one thing was certain; there was no way I could undo all that had happened. I was a permanently changed person; a fallen woman; a harlot. I could never be the faithful, normal wife and mother again.

Fidelity is like virginity; once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.

The words had gone round and round in my head for the last two guilt-ridden days and sleepless nights. Outside I still looked like the boring, married, middle-aged scientist and mother of three grown-up children that I had previously been. Inside I had become a cauldron of emotions spurred on by fierce feeling of regret and remorse pitted against the incredible discovery of what an exciting, truly satisfying sex life could be like.

When Pete had first tried to persuade me to take a lover I had thought he wanted us to become swingers. I had suspected he wanted me to see other men so that he could sleep with other women but to my surprise, that hadn’t been the case. By writing and publishing erotic stories online and corresponding with several real life cuckolds who had responded to my work, I had come to understand that his motivation was actually quite different.

I had discovered the mindset of the Willing Cuckold.

At first I had studied it objectively as I might have investigated a hypothesis at work. Even with Pete’s constant persuasion, I hadn’t planned to take a lover in real life; rather I had expected it all to remain in the realm of fantasy. Exciting fantasy to be sure but definitely not part of real life.

But then there had been that Friday in November, the train journey home from London, the engrossment in the erotic story I was writing, the chance meeting with Tony on whom I had modelled one of the main characters in that story. There had been the long involving conversation, the mutual attraction, the lift home, the kiss goodbye, the hands straying onto my bottom… followed by the rapid seduction in our own lounge that had led to my only infidelity in over twenty years of marriage.

Three days later I had gone to Tony’s apartment to tell him it all had to end before it had started. Less than two hours later I had left with a double dose of my lover’s semen inside me.

The will to end things had gone. The seal of fidelity had been well and truly broken.

Once I had learned how to ignore the considerable feelings of guilt – at least temporarily - it had been so much easier to keep the affair going than to stop. Tony and I had made love more times since that extraordinary Friday afternoon than I could comfortably count, becoming more compatible with every copulation, taking more and more risks and having more frequent and more intense orgasms than my rather capacious vagina had known than at any time in all my previously monogamous life.

But when the physical delights were over I found that along with the extraordinary new pleasures of the bed had come equally intense feelings of guilt. These had grown and grown until finally I had been unable to keep the secret from my husband any longer and had blurted out the truth during one of his many post-coital attempts to persuade me to take a lover.

The pain I had inflicted on my husband when he had heard the news was hard for me to bear so God alone knows how he had felt. Pete had spent the night in the guest room followed by the next two nights away from home, I did not yet know where. Though desperately trying to behave at work as if nothing had happened, I had spent the entire time he was away like a prisoner in the condemned cell, waiting for my marriage, my reputation and my relationships with my children to come to a bitter, recriminatory end.

When Pete finally returned home, waking me very early on the Wednesday morning I had slept very little and expected nothing but the fate I deserved. The conversation that followed was unquestionably the most difficult of my life. At first most of Pete’s words simply reinforced the expectation that I had just destroyed both my marriage and my family but thank God it didn’t end there.

Eventually and with great emotion, my extraordinary husband told me that despite what I had done, he still loved me wildly and believed he was at least partly responsible for my cheating. Though this reaction had by no means been certain, it was completely in character for the man I loved.

What had not in any way been predictable was the next revelation; that not only could my husband forgive my infidelity, under some non-negotiable conditions, he was content for it to continue. At that point I would have agreed to anything to keep my marriage intact but, if I had paid enough attention to my online cuckold friends, I could have predicted every one of my husband’s demands.

The first was no surprise; extreme discretion. The kids and our friends must never know anything at all about our arrangement. Pete might be able to accept being a cuckold in secret but we both recognised this would be almost impossible if anyone else knew.

This was easy to agree to.

The next was that I must answer honestly and in intimate detail any questions he asked about my encounters whenever he asked them. Foolishly, I hadn’t been expecting this but the least reference to my online real life cuckold friends would have made it clear that this would be non-negotiable.

I agreed to this too but not without misgivings. Could I really tell my husband all the things Tony and I did in bed? If I wanted my affair to continue, I had to.

The third rule was that my affair must stop immediately if either of us felt that it was becoming a threat to our marriage or if Pete ever asked me to stop for any other reason. This would be much more difficult but I agreed to it apprehensively, still amazed that we could discuss something so deeply personal in such an objective manner.

Pete insisted that, while we were all getting used to the idea, I should sleep with my lover not more than once a week. This was much less often than Tony and I had been seeing each other but when offered by my husband it felt generous.

Tony would have to agree; if he wanted me, I would give him no choice.

I accepted Pete’s conditions unreservedly and immediately. He then took me immediately with a passion we hadn’t enjoyed for many years, forcing me onto my back across the kitchen table and ramming my night gown under my armpits. He spread my legs forcefully then penetrated my unprepared body so rapidly and with such force and energy that within minutes I was weeping moisture and having the first vaginal orgasm I had enjoyed with my husband for nearly a year. And all before breakfast on a Wednesday morning!

I had called Tony from my car on the way to work and told him the news. He could barely believe his ears. I could barely believe my own as I explained it all. He wasn’t at all pleased that we could only see each other once each week but there was no disguising his relief at not having an angry, jealous husband to deal with and the joy in his voice when he learned that our affair could continue was almost palpable.

Pete now speaks of that day as my first as a Hotwife, a word I hadn’t heard him use before. Clearly I wasn’t the only one investigating cuckoldry on the internet. For me, the day was spent in a surreal half-dream. Unsurprisingly I was late for work then struggled to retain some kind of normality throughout the morning. The soreness between my legs caused by Pete’s dry penetration was a constant remainder of our encounter, as were the small bruises on my lower back from the kitchen table where his thrusts had driven me bodily into its hard top.

Pete was already home when I pulled into the driveway. After a somewhat awkward kiss ‘hello’ I went up to the bedroom to change out of my suit. Pete brought us both gin and tonics and, as we both shed our work clothes the surreal conversation continued. I half expected him to want to take me violently again and silently thanked God when he didn’t; my soreness from the morning’s assault was still considerable.

We cooked and ate dinner together. At various times during the evening one or other of us coming up with another concern about our ‘new arrangement’ that needed to be discussed. So we discussed it, in a mature adult way, we discussed my continued adultery openly. And the more we talked, calmly and seriously about how I should have sex with another man, the easier it became to come to terms with.

By bedtime to my astonishment we had grown used to talking about my infidelity as if it was both an established fact and, more bizarrely, as if it was entirely normal for a married couple. And it was only the first day!

Needless to say our foreplay that night was dominated by detailed questions about my lovemaking with Tony; how big he was, how good it felt; what did he do that l liked; what did I do that he liked? All of which I answered openly and honestly even when my words were clearly painful for my husband to hear.

And afterwards, as Pete reared up over me and his body slammed repeatedly and painfully into mine with a passion not even our most vivid fantasies had produced, I began to understand that, this time at least, my husband Pete was happy and had finally, if unexpectedly 'got what he had wished for'.

And, to my surprise, so had I.

*

Incredibly, the rest of the week began as if nothing had changed. Normality was enforced by the usual pre-Christmas busy period at work and the need to buy presents for family and friends. Abnormality came from the plans we were making to help us deal with what was to become our new lifestyle.

Many times I had to pinch myself – or ask Pete to do it for me – to make sure it wasn’t all just a dream. But it was real; or at least it was about to become real.

Tony’s kids were coming home for a family birthday at the weekend so, after a number of text exchanges my first ‘Official Hotwife Date’ as Pete put it was set for Monday evening. It felt extremely strange to be able to arrange it openly after all the secrecy and subterfuge of the last six weeks. As we talked and especially as I arranged my next date in front of him, Pete seemed to go through every extremity of emotion from fear through jealousy to anger and back

But these painful emotions were all accompanied by obvious and powerful feelings of arousal as his almost constant erection amply demonstrated.

The surreal days passed; I could feel both the excitement and apprehension on both our parts growing as my date grew closer. I spent longer and longer online too, corresponding with my real life cuckold friends. I told them I was researching a new storyline but in fact I was trying to find out how best to keep my husband happy while I was on my date.

Doing this without letting them know that my stories had now come to life; that I was now in a similar position myself wasn’t easy. My friends might be cuckolds but they were all educated, intelligent, generous and caring men. I’m pleased to say that their advice, though sparing, continued to be startlingly accurate.

On Saturday, Pete and I went shopping in the nearby city searching for family presents but with another agenda too. As well as Christmas shopping we bought a new, very short Little Black Dress for me and some new black undies; tiny panties, stockings (not tights), a lacy bra and suspender belt. In the evening I tried them on in front of Pete with my highest, tartiest red heels. I must say they made me feel very sexy indeed and certainly had the desired effect on my husband.

Remembering all my online friends had told me, I told Pete that he couldn’t have sex with me for three days before my date, however much he wanted to. He wanted to a lot and sulked at first at my refusal but then, as my advisors had predicted, his attitude changed. After a day or so Pete seemed almost pleased to be denied my body and to be given firm, clear rules. He brightened up considerably when I promised him as many hand-jobs as he needed to relieve his tension but that would be as far as it went.

To be honest, keeping him away was hard for me too given the way I felt about him but I was trying to remember all the good advice I had gleaned. After all, if I was going to get what I wanted from this new lifestyle it was only right that Pete should too, even if he didn’t yet know exactly what that was.

*

It seemed an age before the alarm clock rang early on Monday morning, announcing a new day, a new week and of course, the imminent arrival of my first Official Hotwife Date (the way Pete talked about it, nothing but capital letters would do). I was as excited as a child before her birthday treat and tried to distract myself by getting dressed in as unsexy clothes as I could find and concentrating on work.

That was easier said than done. At the hospital, the hours ticked away so slowly that I was glad of the distractions a busy organisation could provide but eventually the clock on my wall told me it was time to go home. My tummy ached with anticipation as I drove too quickly through the darkness back towards my husband and my first ‘official’ date.

Both men had texted me a dozen times throughout the day to make sure all was still ‘on’ for that evening. I don't think Tony could quite believe Pete was okay about it all, the two of them having been close friends for so many years but I couldn’t see any real hesitation on Pete's part - at least not then!

I arrived home just after six o’clock. Pete returned about an hour later which was early for both of us. It was obvious we were both excited and nervous – Pete was behaving very strangely – so I asked him straight out if he wanted me to call it all off.

I truly believe at that stage I would have cancelled if he had asked me to but he didn’t; he immediately and emphatically said that he wanted me to go and I believed him.

He was clearly anxious, whatever he said so to try and keep him occupied I asked him (again as my online friends had suggested) to help me get ready by running a bath. Pete seemed pleased to have something to do so I went up to the bedroom and laid on the bed my new LBD, black silky bra, panties, stockings and suspender belt, and the killer red heels that I hardly ever wore.

He was clearly still nervous when I joined him in the bathroom but insisted he was okay. We chatted in a surreal, nervous way as I had a long, slow soak, shaved my legs and armpits and trimmed my bikini line. I carefully washed my hair then went through to the bedroom where I sat at my dressing table wrapped in a big white towel drying it noisily.

Pete watched me; studying me intently most of the time which made me nervous. I told him so and he went downstairs, returning with two glasses of champagne before sitting on the bed and watching me some more.

My heart ached for him and for a moment I really felt like backing out; like calling Tony and telling him it had all been a mistake. Then I remembered another important thing my cuckold friends had advised; the need to reward my husband for his wonderful attitude. So, before getting dressed, I crossed to the bed where he sat watching.

“You look amazing,” he whispered as I perched on the mattress alongside him still in my towel.

“No! You’re amazing, Pete,” I replied, touching my champagne glass to his. “Are you sure you can go through with this?”

He seemed to think for a minute before replying.

“I think I need to. I think we both need to. However I feel now, it’s sort of my ultimate fantasy coming true. I think we both need to try it once or we’ll never know, will we?”

“I don’t want you to be hurt or upset,” I said softly.

“Neither do I,” he laughed ironically. “And I was upset to learn you’d been fucking him for a month in secret. No! Don’t worry! I’m over that now,” he cut off my protest and smiled. “In a way it made it easier for me; as if the decision had already been taken out of my hands. You already knew what another man’s cock felt like. It wasn’t down to me to make you try it for the first time any more.”

The logic was twisted but I understood it in a way.

“But you do just want to see him for a fuck, don’t you?” he asked directly. “It’s just the fucking that you want, not the relationship?”

I winced inside at his liberal use of the ‘f’ word but he was right; I didn’t really want romance or love with Tony, though I wasn’t naïve enough to ignore the risk of that developing. Right now all I wanted was sex, and the greater the sex, the better! I wanted to be fucked again by that thick, stubby cock that stretched me so wonderfully tight and made me feel so young and attractive again.

“Yes Pete. I do want Tony to fuck me again!”

Desperately trying to remember all I had learned about cuckolds, I chose my words deliberately. Be clear; be precise; don’t give him any room for doubt but don’t ever humiliate him. Pete paused again.

“Is he better than me? No, don’t answer that!”

Knowing that the truth was likely to hurt, I didn’t even try and reply. Instead I placed my hand on his upper thigh and murmured:

“Perhaps if I just…”

I began to slowly massage my husband’s groin, my fingers pressing through his tight jeans intending to give him one of the promised hand jobs to relieve at least some of his tension. I gripped his upper thigh; he opened his legs a little so I slid my hand between his legs to cup his cock and balls.

“Penny…”

“Shh! Relax!”

Pete leaned back on the bed, propped on his elbows and watched my face as I carefully flicked open his belt and button, lowered his zipper and slipped my hand inside his shorts where his warm, soft penis and scrotum were waiting for my touch.

“Oh, Penny,” he hissed as I eased his jeans and tight shorts down over his buttocks to his upper thighs.

Pete’s long, slim cock flopped onto his lower belly. I took it gently in my fingers and began to massage its flaccid shaft, my other hand cupping his sack and running his balls between my fingers.

“That feels good,” he moaned.

I pulled the foreskin back from its smooth head and lowered my face to his groin though I didn’t take his cock into my mouth. Instead, I blew on its tip and drew my tongue across the tiny lips on top of his smooth head, my hand rising and falling on the still-soft shaft beneath.

“Mmmmm,” he sighed, his eyes closing.

My husband’s warm, handsome face was raised to the ceiling and showed every sign of pleasure but there was no sign of his cock hardening in my hand. I pumped it more vigorously, squeezing with each rise and fall of my fist and was rewarded with a slight firming of his shaft but no proper erection.

“Oh no! Not that please!” he whispered, clearly becoming distressed. The slight hardness immediately vanished. “Please, no!”

“Relax,” I purred. “Leave it to me!”

I worked on his flaccid cock for several more minutes, giving him the best technique I could remember, using every trick I had learned from my lover as well as all those Pete knew well. This time my fingers and tongue were all brought into play but despite my best efforts it just wasn’t working; my husband’s cock remained stubbornly soft in my hand.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “Let’s forget it.”

This kind of erection failure was very rare indeed for Pete and made me realise just how tense he was. We were both embarrassed as I let his soft flesh slip through my fingers and rose to my feet beside him.

“No! I’m sorry, Pete,” I replied softly as he clumsily slipped his useless cock back into his shorts and struggled to zip up his trousers, “I should have thought. It’s a tough time for you. We’re both learning something new, I guess.”

Partly to cover up his and my embarrassment, I went back into the bathroom to adjust my make-up and give Pete time to dress himself properly. When I returned, he had refilled the champagne glasses and was waiting for me expectantly.

Remembering another tip from my cuckold pen-pals, I asked Pete to help me dress for my lover. Though at first puzzled, he responded really well as I asked his advice. Were my arms and legs smooth enough for Tony? Was my pubic hair neatly enough trimmed? Did I smell fresh and clean enough for my lover?

Bizarrely, this seemed to help Pete’s anxiety. At least it gave him something to do other than just watch.

Encouraged, I asked him to bring me my clothes item by item as I slowly and carefully dressed in front of him, asking his advice at every stage on whether it looked right. Although of course I didn’t need it, I made a great play of asking for help fastening my new bra, making sure my stockings and suspenders were straight, choosing and pulling on the right pair of panties and finally zipping up my dress.

To my relief, Pete seemed very pleased to play his part and I soon felt very sexy indeed, preparing for my lover in the full expectation of having great sex very soon - without the guilt that had always accompanied my affair.

Eventually it was time to go. I posed for a last minute check in front of the full-length mirror, turning from left to right as Pete inspected me all around. He seemed strangely proud of me as he inspected my hair, clothes, make up and ear rings. He then fastened a necklace around my throat and my bracelet around my wrist before pronouncing me ‘drop dead gorgeous’ and going downstairs to get my coat and scarf.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror and smiled. Not too bad for a women in her fifties, I thought but silently promised myself to spend a lot more time in the gym in future. Then, my heart thumping, I descended to the hallway where my husband was waiting with my overcoat over his arm.

To my surprise, Pete had insisted on driving me round to Tony’s apartment and had been equally insistent that he would pick me up afterwards saying it wouldn’t be good to have the neighbours see my car parked outside Tony’s all evening. I had warned him I might be quite late but he said me he would be waiting outside from eleven-thirty onwards and I mustn’t worry about him as long as I enjoyed myself.

He did remind me that I had promised to tell him every detail he wanted to know about what Tony and I had done. I blushed but then reminded him in turn that he must not masturbate while I was away or it would spoil everything for both of us when I returned.

Pete nodded his agreement like a sulky schoolboy and I began to understand what so many of my real life cuckold friends had meant. Perverse or not, there was no denying that me being firm in all things sexually really was part of the pleasure for him, even if he didn’t realise it yet.

*

The journey from our house to Tony’s apartment took twenty frustratingly slow minutes and was spent in total silence. Every few seconds Pete would glance across at me; at my hair, my tiny boobs, my too-short and too-tight dress and the large expanse of my stocking-covered thighs that it revealed. His staring began to make me nervous and the tension in the car built so rapidly as we closed in on the address that eventually I wondered whether he would lose his nerve and ask me not to go after all.

But he didn’t; to his continued credit, Pete’s nerve held though I could see his hands trembling and he gripped the steering wheel excessively hard. A few minutes later we pulled slowly and silently into the car park outside Tony’s apartment block. Pete switched off the engine and leaned back in his seat, breathing heavily and staring out of the windscreen.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly. He nodded but still didn’t speak. “I’ll be a couple of hours at least,” I told him as matter-of-factly as I could. “What will you do? Promise me you won’t just wait here!”

He turned towards me and smiled self-deprecatingly. “I’ll be okay. I’ll probably go for a run or walk the dog or something.”

“No masturbating either, remember?” I scolded him jokingly in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

It didn’t work.

“I need an erection to masturbate, don’t I?” he said smiling ruefully and looking into my eyes for the first time since we had left home. “You’d better go quickly. Tony will be waiting. I doubt he’ll have a problem getting it up for you!”

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’ll text you when I’m ready, okay?”

He didn’t reply but as I stepped out of the car and smoothed my ludicrously short dress down over my stocking tops, I saw his hands grip the steering wheel again so hard his knuckles turned white.

I turned away from the car without looking back and, dressed in my new sexy clothes with my coat over my arm and with a red silk scarf around my neck, I rang the buzzer at Tony’s apartment block door. Seconds later the entry phone buzzed, I took a deep breath, pushed the door open and went inside, not looking back at my cuckold husband in the car behind me.

My first Official Hotwife Date had begun!

*

My knees were trembling as I climbed the two flights of stairs rather than wait for the lift. The unaccustomed shortness of my dress let the cool December air reach high between my thighs and find the bands of bare leg above my stocking tops. Its unfamiliar chill on my usually-covered flesh felt illicit; exciting; thrilling and I was already aroused when Tony opened the door for me and let me into the apartment silently.

He had really made an effort and looked gorgeous himself in tight black jeans and a blue shirt over his toned, almost-pumped chest. He must have been in the gym only hours before; it made me feel very sexy to think that this good-looking man had gone to such efforts just to please me. I had half-feared, half-hoped he would jump me and ravish me as soon as I walked through the door as he had that evening I had come intending to tell him it was all off, but had ended up in his bed within minutes.

But Tony didn’t jump me; to my surprise, he kissed me almost politely on the cheek as he would have done before our affair began. When he took my coat he didn’t even try to caress me. Even our conversation felt stilted and awkward, as if something between us had changed; as if we were both ‘on edge’ more than a little and seemed almost not to know how to behave. Perhaps I had built up our first Official Date too much in my mind but I began to feel a little disappointed without understanding why.

It certainly wasn’t his appearance; if I’d thought him handsome before, that night I found Tony knee-weakeningly gorgeous but he was clearly a bit wrong-footed too and for quite a while we didn’t seem to know what to do with each other. This was ridiculous given we had been sleeping together for a month already, but it was the truth!

It seemed almost as if he felt he had to seduce me all over again and was making a bit of a hash of it this time. At one point I even thought that I would have to shame-facedly ask Pete to pick me up early and that the date would be a washout. But we persevered, and I’m so glad we did!

Thank God for food and wine! Tony had cooked a wonderful, romantic meal for us both; goats cheese, bacon & balsamic salad to start, salmon for main course and chocolate mousse for dessert. All were big favourites of mine. We sat at the candle-lit table and began to eat. It was delicious but the atmosphere between us was still awkward.

Eventually, the fail-safe remedy of good red wine and a sense of humour came to the rescue. After a couple of large glasses and two courses of Tony’s undoubtedly excellent cooking the conversation finally loosened, I began to relax and he seemed to follow suit. A third glass of wine mellowed us both still further and by the time he was clearing the main course dishes we were giggling and touching hands like teenagers again.

It sounds silly now, but we were so relaxed after our main course that we took our refilled drinks and sat together on the sofa. We even began to watch a movie on TV before Tony pointed out we were behaving more like an old married couple than adulterous lovers.

He laughed and his laugh set me off giggling uncontrollably. He stifled my giggling by kissing me on the lips. Then I felt his expert hands moving over me at last and the movie faded into the background.

*

A while later, devoid of my dress, bra and panties, and flushed pink in the face from a first climax brought about by Tony’s world-class fingering in front of the television, he led me, knees trembling, still in my stockings, suspenders and heels along to the bedroom where he took me every way he wanted.

And he wanted me a lot. And it felt amazing; even better than before. He stripped quickly as I watched, willingly spreading my stocking-covered thighs for him, opening my distended, aroused vagina and watching his strong, athletic body being revealed.

He slowly climbed onto the bed, my chest tightening with excitement as he mounted my eager, accepting body. When his thick, stumpy cock penetrated my inner lips for the first time, stretching them so tightly that it actually hurt, I realised how much better sex with him would be now than when we were merely having an affair.

This was simply wonderful; two people united in the enjoyment of the pure physical pleasure of sex. As Tony began to fuck me, slowly at first but with increasing speed and energy it felt as if I was coming to life. Free from fears of guilt; free from the need to conceal anything from my husband, free from the need to think of anything but my own pleasure and that of my lover, I felt truly alive.

For the first time in my life I could really let myself go and accept any and all the pleasures that my new life could present. As Tony found a strong, steady rhythm and my body tuned in to my lover’s, my moans and thrusts began to match his in every way.

It was a life-enhancing experience. I felt young, I felt attractive, I felt desired, I felt fertile, I felt adored and as Tony’s pace increased, I heard myself imploring him to fuck me, fuck me deep and fuck me hard!

I could barely believe it was my own voice saying those things. I had written such things many times in my stories but this was different; this was real life! Now the woman begging to be fucked was me! Really me!

I wasn’t just an unfaithful wife anymore I was a real Hotwife being fucked freely by a gorgeous man and his incredible cock with my cuckold husband’s full knowledge and agreement. The climax that hit me barely minutes after that first wonderful, painful penetration – my first orgasm as a Hotwife - will remain in my memory for years.

Did it live up to expectations? God yes! Though at the time I didn’t know there were so many more and even better climaxes ahead of me. That evening all I wanted was to surrender to the sheer pleasure of sex, surrender to this man, to my body, to the feel of his unbelievable cock inside me!

I thought I was going to die, to scream, to wet myself but could do none of these things.

All I could do was cum! And cum! And cum!

*

An hour or so later, when the messy part was over and we were both sweaty and exhausted, I sat on the edge of the rumpled bed, peeled off my stockings (which were fit only for the bin) then had a quick shower, washing myself clean in important places. My vulva was red, swollen and sore and I was sure my tiny boobs would be covered in small bruises by the morning.

My mind was still fuddled; partly by the orgasms I had enjoyed but mostly because the whole evening still felt surreal. I still couldn’t get the idea out of my mind that I had just become a character in one of my own stories though the reality had been far more intense than I had imagined even in my most vivid writing.

I suspected this would be a theme from now on!

I dressed rapidly in sharp contrast to the length of time Pete and I had taken getting me ready for my date. My hair was still a little ruffled and my chest flushed pink as I listened to Tony in the shower behind me. When I looked out of the bedroom window it was quarter to midnight and Pete’s car was already parked outside.

I wondered how long he had been waiting and how he would greet me, knowing I had so recently been fucked by one of his closest friends. As the thought hit me I began to get nervous. Would he be upset? Numb or in tears? Angry and violent?

I couldn’t keep him waiting any longer; it was time to leave. Tony understood and after pulling on his shirt and trousers, walked me to the front door of his apartment then down in the lift to the outside security door. We hugged and kissed goodbye in the lobby like friends, as we would have done before our affair started.

I thanked him for a wonderful evening, promising to meet again soon, as long as Pete was still content of course.

The foyer light went out on its timer and we kissed again in the darkness, this time with mouths wide open, tongues entwined. Tony’s hands explored my buttocks in his usual ‘goodbye grope’ as my husband waited merely yards away in the car park.

Our embrace ended. I let myself out of the door and crossed to the darkened vehicle, feeling the cold night air on my bare legs and sore vulva.

As I crossed the tarmac a bizarre thought entered my mind; I never did get my chocolate mousse!

*

The air in the car was cool as I settled into the passenger seat of the waiting Porsche; Pete must have been waiting there for some time. When I gathered the courage to look across at my husband I was horrified; he looked almost grey in the street light and in a state of shock as if he had aged ten years in a few hours.

He falteringly asked me how my evening had been and I replied that everything had gone well.

He then asked straight out in a cold tone of voice whether Tony had ‘given me a good fucking’. I took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eye and said I had just enjoyed the best fucking of my life. This wasn’t strictly true – Pete still very much held that honour but I wasn’t going to tell him that then.

He grunted, threw the car into reverse and pulled out of the car park. We drove in silence for a minute or two before I dared to speak.

“Are you really okay? Now that it’s actually happened, I mean?”

Pete inhaled deeply.

“It’s been the worst night of my life,” he replied. I gasped in dismay before he added. “But in a strange way it’s been the best night too! I honestly don’t know how I feel right now.”

Relief washed over me.

“You look terrible,” I said honestly. He laughed ironically.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out that way. Are you having second thoughts? Regrets?”

“It’s a bit late for that,” his voice was a little uncertain. “Not regrets but... I’ve never felt like this before.”

“How does it feel? Do you want to talk? Would that help?”

“I’ll tell you when I’ve had a chance to think about it.” I was pleased to hear his voice sounding stronger and more confident now. “I’ve been a Good Boy while you were away,” he added with a mirthless grin.

“You didn’t masturbate?”

“You told me I couldn’t so I didn’t. But it was very, very hard not to.”

“That’s good,” I said softly. “So you didn’t have trouble getting it up while I was away?”

He laughed hollowly again. “No. Quite the opposite; I’ve been hard almost since the moment you got out of the car. I suppose there’s a message there somewhere.”

I began to massage the top of his thigh as he drove. He patted my hand; the atmosphere was thawing fast.

“Was it really that good tonight?” he asked.

“You want the truth?”

“Of course! You promised.”

I took a deep breath.

“It was amazing, Pete; so much better than before. I couldn’t believe the difference it made knowing that there are no secrets between us; that you were happy for him to fuck me. I could just relax and let it all happen.”

I kissed his cheek and the car swerved a little.

“Careful, Penny!” he smiled.

“I do love you Pete. I’ll show you how much when we get home!”

*

When we did get home we went straight up to the bedroom.

I had expected Pete to be excited but before I could even speak his hands were on me, unzipping my dress and stripping it away. My stockings were in the bin at Tony’s apartment so my legs were already bare and within seconds my bra had been raised, exposing my boobs without even trying to undo the clasp. The next thing I knew I was on my back on our bed, still in my heels with my panties being roughly pulled down over my thighs and along my legs. As they passed my knees I saw to my horror that some of Tony’s semen had leaked out of me and soaked into the gusset.

For a moment Pete paused and stared almost disbelievingly at the stained garment in his hand but then seemed to get a second burst of energy and lifted me bodily up the bed. He forced my legs apart, spreading my thighs obscenely wide until my swollen, over-used vulva was on full display then knelt between my legs and stared at my pink, puffy, slit.

“Oh My God! You’re gaping! You’re actually gaping open! You really, really did it!”

I just stared up at his wide-eyed expression, not knowing what I could possibly say.

“Look at the state of you, Penny! You really let him fuck you! Oh my God!”

He moved closer to my hot, well-used body and stared hard at my vulva, pulling his own clothes off in a frenzy, his erection, long and very hard, was sticking proudly out from his tangle of wiry pubic hair.

Whatever the problem had been before my date, it was definitely over now!

Naked apart from his socks, Pete shuffled forward until his face was merely inches away from my groin. I saw his eyes widen then a frown crossed his brow.

“What… what’s the matter, Pete?” I asked. “Is it all a bit too real now?”

“It’s not that,” he replied distractedly. “It’s just that… well, I… I thought there might still be some of his cum all over you!”

“Jesus Pete!”

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologised. “Is that too much? Too disgusting?”

“No!” I protested. “Of course not! I just didn’t know you’d… feel that way.”

He was disappointed I had taken a shower. I should have guessed this; my online friends had told me many cuckolds liked to see the ‘scene of the crime’ with the evidence in place. I had even included it in one of my own stories but when it had come to my first date, the thought hadn’t occurred to me and I had washed the precious fluids away.

I metaphorically kicked myself and made a mental note for next time. Assuming there would be a ‘next time’.

“Tell me more. Was it really that good for you?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on my gaping slit.

“Yes. It was very good,” I replied directly, my legs splayed wide either side of his head.

“How many times did he fuck you?”

“Just twice tonight. There wasn’t time for more.”

“Did you cum?”

“Yes.”

“Often?”

“At least twice. I went a bit woozy.”

“Oh God! Penny! I can’t believe you really did it!”

“Believe it, Pete. It really happened. Tony fucked me hard barely an hour ago. You can see the evidence.”

He stared again at my vulva.

“You’re beautiful, Penny. You don’t look like this after I‘ve fucked you!”

I said nothing, not wanting to upset him but not wanting to tell a lie either.

“You look stretched. Wide open. Is he… much bigger than me?”

“I’ve told you before!”

“Tell me again!”

“He’s thicker; much thicker. He stretches me really tightly but he’s a lot shorter than you.”

“Is he better in bed than me?”

“You really want to know?”

He paused.

“I’ve got to know, Penny. Whatever the answer is, I have to know the truth.”

“Okaaayyy. The honest truth is that right now he’s better than you; a lot better. His cock makes me cum like yours hasn’t for years and years.”

My husband winced a little at my words.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone to give me what you couldn’t?” I challenged him.

“I suppose I did say that,” he agreed.

“You did say it, Pete, you said it many times. And I’m really grateful to you for it. Right now I’m having some of the best sex of my entire life and it’s thanks to you. You’re incredible!”

He raised his eyes from my vulva for the first time and looked deep into mine. I hope he saw honesty and gratitude along with love. What I saw in his expression was adoration, a little pain certainly but a there was a strange pride alongside it which surprised me.

“But it’s still all very new and that must be an important part of the excitement,” I added.

My husband’s face broke into a smile and I realised to my relief that it really was going to be alright. I reached forward with both hands and pulled him towards me until I felt the heat of his body over mine and his erect cock against my upper thighs seeking my entrance.

Once, twice he stabbed forwards, missing his mark. I winced as his tip rasped against my sore, battered clitoris then reached down, grasping his shaft firmly in my hand and, acutely aware how very much thinner than Tony’s it was, directed its head into my waiting vagina.

Never very tight ‘down there’, I had loosened more after the kids were born and now, after repeated penetration by Tony’s thick cock I was looser still. Pete sank his full length into me in a single smooth thrust. I clamped down as hard as my pelvic floor would allow and gasped as I felt his shaft passing my inner lips for a long, long time before finally his pubic hair ground against mine and I felt his smooth end pressing hard against my cervix.

“Can he get this deep into you?” Pete growled, grinding his hips against my mound.

“N… No…” I replied, my face a little twisted with the pain of his penetration. “He’s too short.”

He smiled a satisfied smile then slowly began to thrust himself in and out of my already well-used vagina. I was quite sore but Pete wasn’t very thick and I was already loose and well lubricated. He began with long, slow, regular thrusts but after a few strokes, his speed and power increased sharply and suddenly.

“Oh Fuck Penny, you feel different! I can tell he’s been here… inside you!”

“That’s right, Pete. His cock was right there where yours is! I’ve just been fucked by another man. Can you tell, Pete? Can you tell?”

His speed and passion were increasing quickly now.

“Fuck yes! You’re so fucking loose. Just how big is his cock?”

I tightened as hard as my pelvic floor would allow but it had little effect.

“It’s huge Pete! As thick as my wrist, not like your skinny little thing! He’s got a real man’s thick cock!”

I tilted my pelvis in an attempt to increase the friction but again I was too loose and there was too much lubrication.

“He’s stretched you! He’s stretched your cunt, Penny!”

“So what are you going to do, cuckold? Your wife’s fucking another man! What are you going to do about it?”

“Fuck you! I’m going to fuck you! You… you Slut!” he growled under his breath, his face inches above mine.

As if spurred on by his own words, Pete’s pace increased and the room filled with the wet slapping sounds of his body striking mine.

“How does it feel Pete? I gasped, my hands on his sides, my legs aching with the force of his thrusts. “How does it make you feel to have a Slut for a wife?”

“Angry!” he growled back. “I feel angry.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I hissed.

“Fuck you! I’m going to fuck you so hard it hurts!”

“Think you can do as well as him? Think your cock is good enough?”

“Oh Penny!”

He was getting more and more excited, his thrusts becoming even deeper and more violent.

“How does it feel to have Sloppy Seconds, cuckold?” I croaked.

“Oh fuck, Pennyyyy!”

Pete went into a kind of angry frenzy, slamming himself into me in a way that began to really hurt. My extraordinary looseness seemed to let him even deeper into my body than usual; in desperation I tried to slow him down by closing my thighs a little to try and restrict his movements.

Even this was only partly successful and finally I had to place my hands on his hips to try and prevent him ‘bottoming out’ inside me. The repeated violent impact of his cock on my cervix felt as if I was being punched in the belly and made me feel slightly sick.

“How… do you… do you like this… Slut?” he growled, his muscles tense and bunched above me.

“Ouch! Ow! Ow! Please! Please don’t hurt me!”

I wailed in protest but in truth it was part of the game; the pain was only slight and to be honest, seeing my husband roused to such heights of jealous passion was turning me on massively too.

“Got to cum! Gonna cum in you! Gonna cum in your cunt, Slut!”

And then Pete seemed to lose control completely, his body slamming into mine with a violent passion that I had barely imagined existed in him. His thrusts began to come from his thighs not his hips and I felt myself being driven bodily up the bed until my head collided with the headboard. The beginnings of an orgasm began to build deep within my hips despite all that had already happened that evening, unexpectedly sending small ripples of pleasure through my belly, chest and groin.

“Jesus, Penny! You’re cumming again!” Pete croaked as he felt my body respond.

He redoubled his pace to try and take me over the brink and into yet another full orgasm – one I felt almost unable to bear coming so soon after Tony’s comprehensive fucking.

“OoooowwwwwPPPPeeeeteyyyeeessSSSS!”

Maybe my body was already over-sensitised by my previous fucking by Tony; maybe Pete’s technique as a cuckold was better than when he had a faithful wife; maybe the whole evening had taken me to a new level of abandonment. Whatever the cause, the climax that hit me at that moment was entirely different from those I had enjoyed before in our marital bed or Tony’s bed and took me completely by surprise.

The pulse of pleasure and pain rippled outwards as if from a place deeper inside me than Tony's stubby cock could ever reach, my chest tightened and spasms rocked my body.

“Cum for me Penny! Cum like the Slut you are!”

Pete’s voice was little more than a croak as his rhythm broke, his thrusts became wild and violent and he slammed into me with a ferocity I hadn’t expected from him.

“Noooo! Pleeeaseee!” I wailed as a second pulse surged after the first, my exhausted body unable to take any more.

“Fuck you! Fuck you Penny! Fuck you, you Cheating Slut”

Pete’s thrusts were short, sharp and painfully deep but this level of violence could never last long. Within a minute and blessedly before I could reach yet another climax I saw his face twist and contort as his own orgasm began. His body went into spasm and his hips ground so hard against mine that I cried out loud in a mind-fuddling mixture of pleasure and pain, feeling his teeth sink into the lower right side of my neck as my newly-cuckolded husband began to ejaculate very noisily inside me.

“Yes! Oh, yes! Oh fucking yes!”

Pete’s voice was hard and triumphant as his semen cascaded into my vagina, joining what was left of my Tony’s in the third ejaculation I had received in only a few hours; as if by this simple, primeval action he had reclaimed me, his errant unfaithful wife and made me his once again.

By the time it was all over and Pete had done all he needed to do to me, it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. After the noise violence of our coupling the room felt unnaturally still apart from the sounds of two middle-aged people panting for breath.

“Wow!” Pete eventually gasped. “Jesus Penny, that was... that was the best!”

I couldn’t reply. My body was reeling from the onslaughts of two strong, fit men in a short period of time; my mind was spinning from too many orgasms.

“Are you okay?” he asked, rolling onto his side to look at me.

“I’m okay,” I replied, smiling across at my amazing husband. “How do you feel?”

“About what exactly?” he grinned.

“About... about all of it?” I said, my voice still a little slurred. “Was it all a mistake? Are we still together?”

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before replying.

“Penn, it was... like nothing I’ve ever experienced before,” he said as if uncertain. “I’m pretty sure a husband isn’t supposed to feel the way I felt when you were with him, knowing what the two of you were doing.”

“How did you feel?”

“It’s hard to describe. The pain of knowing you were cheating on me was almost unbearable but the arousal that came with it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I wanted desperately to be there with you; to watch you doing it; to see you being fucked, to see you cum on another man’s cock. And when I saw you afterwards and your cunt was actually red and gaping, the whole reality rushed in on me. I just had to have you there and then, whatever you wanted.”

I winced again at his casual use of the ‘c’ word. This really was something new.

“You made me cum too,” I reminded him softly. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“I know. In many ways it’s been great - for both of us. In other ways it’s been dreadful. Sometimes I feel elated, more aroused than I’ve ever felt. Sometimes I feel ashamed; disgusted with myself. I’m sorry; I’m very mixed up right now.”

I steeled myself to ask the important question.

“Are you mixed up enough to want me to stop seeing him?”

The pause was long and terrible before my husband finally spoke.

“Let’s run with it for a while longer, shall we? See what happens?”

We kissed long and slowly. Once again I could taste the post-ejaculation flavour in his mouth and presumably he could taste something in mine.

“I’m shattered,” I sighed when we finally came up for air.

“Need a shower?” he asked. “I know I do.”

“Let’s just sleep, Pete. I’ll change the sheets tomorrow.”

We fell asleep curled up like two spoons in a drawer, still naked and still sticky.

*

It felt like hell on earth when the alarm went off at six-thirty the following morning and we had to get up.

I was so tired; my body was messy and groaned at me, especially my hips which had been stretched into so many unaccustomed positions. My tummy ached badly; Pete’s cock is slim but really long and the violence of his lovemaking must have pummelled my cervix hard. Between my thighs was really sore too but these ‘problems’ merely served to remind me of the massive and exciting way my life had just changed.

Our lives I should have said!

I shuffled through to the en suite bathroom and looked apprehensively in the mirror. What I saw was still recognisably me but not a ‘me’ I would like to see often. My hair was everywhere, I had forgotten to take off my make-up which was now smeared all over my face but worst of all there was a large brown ‘hickey’ on my lower neck where Pete had bitten me. I was cross about this but said nothing. Apart from hurting, I looked like I’d been bitten by a vampire or, more likely, a teen after an ‘eighties disco. I thanked God that it was winter and high necklines were commonplace.

However, a warm, healing shower and a wash later I was feeling much improved and Pete and I went through our normal morning routine as if the previous evening hadn’t happened. He was happy and cheerful with a spring in his step that my own exhaustion couldn’t match.

I had to admit that in this buoyant mood, he looked even more attractive than usual.

But the biggest and most unexpected delight was that there was no ‘atmosphere’ between us at all; no recriminations, no accusations or jealous outbursts. We were still very much married – if anything there was a buzz of excitement in the air that I hadn’t known for many years.

Unusually for a weekday, we ate breakfast together too, a really companionable, if disappointingly brief interlude which was sweet for us both. Pete poured orange juice and made toast. There was too little time to talk about the previous evening but from the few words we did exchange on the subject I could tell he was still happy.

And so was I. The future looked quite undeservedly bright.

My first Official Hotwife Date had been a success.