Penny's Promiscuity - 41 To 42 - Mum's The Word free porn video

Chapter Forty-One

There’s always a price to pay for pleasure.

Although there was no denying that I had enjoyed every moment of our date with Adam and Eve and had discovered a wonderful new level of sheer physical pleasure, the degree to which it unsettled me afterwards was far greater than I had expected.

By now I knew how easily I could make bad decisions hen highly aroused, so my own actions and activities that evening came as no surprise. Penny Barker had behaved like the cock-hungry slut she was and had loved it.

No. The problem, such as it as, lay with Pete.

Now my husband had not only twice watched me being fucked in the most undignified way possible by another man, he had himself delivered the kind of stellar performance in bed that he and I hadn’t enjoyed for decades, fucking a younger, much more attractive woman to a massive, clearly genuine orgasm far more effectively than he had ever fucked me.

Having just very successfully fucked such a woman, how would my husband now feel about me?

As if that wasn’t enough worry, as far as I knew, he had previously provided my closest friend Julie with an equally impressive night of satisfaction in all her orifices.

Though his one night with her could still upset me, the details had mostly been in my imagination. Eve was different; I had been close enough to see, hear and even smell the two of them in action. Eve’s orgasms had been real; the aroma emanating from their bed was unmistakeable.

And if Pete could do such a comprehensive job of fucking first Julie then Eve, why had our sex life become as stale and moribund it had?

And Pete and Julie had had at least one conversation without my presence since then. Why did that make me so uneasy?

Was it all my fault of all in my mind? Was I the problem? Or was it just pregnancy that was making me doubt my husband’s commitment?

That question in particular haunted me for the next few weeks. The fact that the sum total of my husband’s supposed infidelities was far fewer than the number of times my unfaithful body had been filled with another man’s cum, provided little relief.

The one-sided selfishness of my behaviour over the last year had been brought home in the most basic way possible. Now I understood that I was not the only sexually desirable person in our marriage. I could not take his love and attention for granted.

My husband Pete was every bit as sexual a being as me; good looking, desirable and very good in bed. If he wanted another lover, he would have no difficulty finding one and keeping her satisfied.

It took all my willpower to play the role of happy, contented wife the next day, a problem made far worse by the regular reminders of our joint infidelities that sprang so frequently from the soreness between my thighs and buttocks.

I was far too sore to make love with my husband that night or the following two, leaving me without even that simple physical reassurance. Pete did not even try to persuade me to have sex. No doubt he thought he was being sensitive to my predicament, but at the time I couldn’t help interpreting it as a loss of interest in me.

The physical evidence of infidelity on both our bodies did not help.

Indeed, the love-bite Eve had left on my husband’s neck could still be identified if he wore a low-necked shirt; something he was obliged to do in theatre. The unmissable and unmistakeable dark patch had caused a great deal of amusement at work during the week. Well-meant but rather ill-judged jokes about the demands a highly pregnant wife put on her husband in bed had plagued Pete all week.

And why in God’s name could I not keep the memories of my first infidelity from my conscious mind?

Why did vivid images of Tony’s handsome-but-completely-amoral face visit me in my dreams, day and night?

Why did the incredible feeling of his thick, stubby cock being repeatedly thrust in and out of my vagina keep returning, leaving me highly aroused and in frequent need of a change of knickers?

If Pete could tell what turmoil was going around inside me, he made no mention of it. Indeed, he showed no sign of being anything but happy with our marriage, our sex life and our impending parent and grandparenthood.

I knew I had no right to feel ill-used; after the last year, this was nothing more than justice being done, but in my highly pregnant state there was no way I could keep such destructive thoughts from my mind.

Over the next days and weeks, the insecurities that any seven-month pregnant woman might carry – feeling unattractive, tired, uncomfortable in her clothes, worried that her husband might no longer want her - were multiplied the fact that both Pete and I knew the baby was not his.

But I knew I could say nothing; all I could do was bite my lip, keep my silence, be grateful I had such a wonderful husband and pray for an easy birth in a few weeks’ time.

*

Time passed slowly but pass it did. Our sex life resumed with me paying a great deal more respect to my husband and more attention to his pleasure than I ever had before.

Perversely, this brought me more pleasure too, though still no orgasms.

Pete remained as attentive as ever, delighted by his wife’s unexpected enthusiasm in bed and apparently looking forward to being a Dad again.

The twice-weekly calls I had with our daughter Isobel did not help. Still lamenting the distance between her and Jack – Tony and Julie’s son and the new lover in her life - Izzy was angry rather than tearful and seemed to need to vent that anger on me, her embarrassingly pregnant mother.

I had heard the two of them having noisy, multi-orgasmic sex in his room on several occasions, so hearing her complain reminded me even more of my affair with Tony.

By late October I was huge but there were still six weeks to go. From my vantage point above it, my bulge seemed to have taken on monstrous proportions; far in excess of anything I remembered from my previous pregnancies.

My bladder on the other hand seemed to have shrunk to the size of a walnut, sending me frequently but with complete unpredictability to the loo, which was awkward given that this was Conference Season in my field of research, and I needed to sit still and concentrate for long periods of time.

About these conferences; everyone knows that the British National Health Service is strapped for cash these days. The drug companies most certainly aren't however, and it's usually they who organise the larger conferences in the hope of covertly influencing decisions made by the nation’s medical practitioners.

With a month remaining before my due date, I was still very much working so attendance at the more important conferences was obligatory. I was on the train returning from one of these events in London one Thursday evening. It had been a long day; for a heavily pregnant woman, being on my feet for so long had been a trial, as had the need to sit close to the Ladies’ room during the main presentations.

I had treated myself to a First-Class ticket, justifying the extra expense on the grounds that I no longer fitted comfortably into a standard seat and could not take the risk of having to stand if the train was busy.

As it was, there were plenty of spaces so as we left King’s Cross station, I had a table and all four seats to myself. Tired though I was, recent events had provided plenty of material for my erotic writing so, given almost complete privacy and nearly two hours to myself, I pulled out my laptop and began to type.

The story featured Alice, one of my regular characters whose name I had adopted for both of our Manchester dates. Apart from the natural urge to remain anonymous, taking the name of a fictitious, unfaithful, sexually athletic woman had allowed me to suspend my own, more cautious personality and really let myself go as previous chapters have amply demonstrated.

Alice could – and now actually had done those things that cautious Penny might have only fantasised about.

As usual, the story involved rampant cuckolding. As my train thundered through the flat Cambridgeshire countryside, my mind was focussed hard on the screen. Alice was being fucked by her second lover within the space of a single hour and was reaching the kind of climax few – but by no means no men had ever produced in me.

I could feel myself lubricating as I remembered encounters I had enjoyed over the past year and, as those memories were turned into words, I typed like the wind, pleased that my dress was dark and the seat covered in leather so unfortunate stains would not show.

Immersed in my writing, as my character’s body grew more and more aroused, so my own real excitement grew too, making me fidget on my seat until I became uncomfortably aware that the gusset of my large, maternity panties had worked its way into my slit.

In other words, I had a massive wedgie.

I knew I should remove quickly it but for a heavily pregnant women, going to the loo on a moving train is a major undertaking. I tried to ignore the sensations emanating from my loins but that was impossible. I tried to adjust its lie surreptitiously in my seat but to no avail; the wedgie simply stimulated my inner lips and swelling clitoris even further, making me lubricate more too and setting the whole cycle off again.

My embarrassment, discomfort and arousal increased to danger levels. I stopped typing to try and relieve the mounting stimulation, but it was too late; with constant pressure on my clitoris, mind would not move on from the scene of fornication I had been composing.

Eventually I had to make a choice; either go to the lavatory and sort myself out or risk having an orgasm on the train in front of the staff and other passengers.

Closing my laptop, I lifted the seat arm, wriggled my knees from under the table then struggled to my feet in the aisle. The First-Class lavatory was in the next carriage, so it took some time moving from seat to seat before I reached the automatic door, slipped inside, closed and locked it.

Raising the hem of my maternity dress high and with the help of the wall-mounted mirror, I inspected the scene between my thighs. I eased the gusset from between my labia and pulled my panties down to my knees to find that my poor vulva was red raw, my clitoris was swollen and peeking out from between my lips.

My panties were so wet they were practically see-through. What was worse (and forgive the detail here), other fluids seeping from my pregnant body as a result of my arousal and condition had rendered them unwearable. I pulled them over my feet and held them up to the light.

It was hopeless; they were damp, stained and smelled strongly of aroused female genitalia. For a moment I contemplated washing them under the tap but there was no way they could be dried on the train.

Naturally the spare pair of knickers that pregnant women routinely carry for just this eventuality was in my laptop bag not my handbag. I would have to return to my seat to get them. I thanked God that my maternity dress came to mid-thigh rather than the shorter dresses I had been routinely wearing since my transformation into a Hot Wife.

I screwed the soiled panties into a ball and thrust them into my bag. Then I washed myself as thoroughly as two wet wipes would allow and pulled the dress as far down my thighs as it would go. The wall mounted mirror suggested I still looked decently dressed so, nervous and fully commando, I left the lavatory cubicle and began to make my way back to my seat to what I hoped was the safety of dry, clean underwear.

It took a good few minutes of hopeless searching before I accepted the fact that there were no spare panties in my laptop bag. I cursed audibly; knowing it would be difficult to lug a heavy briefcase around London all day, I had swapped my usual, large case for Pete’s spare one at the last minute as I left for the morning train.

I had transferred all my papers over but must have forgotten to swap the underwear too.

I swore again. An older man in a brown suit looked across at me. I raised my eyebrow in apology then steeled myself to spending the rest of the journey home bare bottomed beneath my dress.

But it’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good.

I can say without hesitation that wearing a mid-thigh dress without underwear in public might be unnerving for a normal woman, but for an author of erotic literature, it is a Godsend.

For the next forty-five minutes, the words simply poured from me. Line after line of story appeared on my laptop screen, my mind as much stimulated by the idea of being so close to public exposure as my body was by the cool draught that rippled around my legs and private parts every time the train doors opened.

As the carriage tannoy announced that the next stop would be my own, I actually felt disappointed. I closed my computer’s cover with considerable reluctance, but with the knowledge of a job well done. As I stood, I made doubly sure that the back of my dress had not ridden up and exposed my buttocks, then pulled my coat on as the train pulled up at the platform.

The station I use mostly for my London trips is what’s known as a Parkway; an out of town stopping point, away from the city with plenty of parking and a good, frequent service. As a result, it is very functional, designed only to get passengers from its large car park to the train and back without the distractions of shops and cafes.

Now nearly eight months pregnant, my walking speed had slowed considerably. The First-Class carriages had been towards the end of the train too so by the time I had got halfway to the barrier, most of the other passengers had overtaken me.

It was then that I saw him; Tony.

A good twenty-five yards ahead of me and oblivious to my presence behind him, he looked as tall and handsome as I could ever remember in a long, dark overcoat, grey scarf and highly polished shoes.

It was after returning from London on a train just like this that Tony had first seduced me, fucked me and my decent into infidelity had begun. My heart began to thump. I froze on the platform so suddenly that an elderly lady walked directly into me from behind.

I turned we both apologised to each other in the classic British way though neither of us had done anything wrong. I looked up and saw my former lover passing through the barrier alongside a tall, slender woman in a short black business skirt, heels and a waist length jacket. Her hair was long and dark, hanging down below her shoulders.

He only had eyes for her. Though I could not see her face, she seemed similarly smitten. From what I could see of their body language, they either already knew each other intimately or would very soon do so.

I followed, watching from a discreet distance, crossing the bright station concourse in the constant awareness of my lack of underwear. The large glass doors slid open automatically as I and the handful of other passengers approached, then passed through and stepped into the darkness outside.

There they were, on their way to the car park. Away from the main crowd, they were walking very close together indeed; in face as they crossed the road towards the park entrance, they were holding hands, their heads only inches apart.

Unable to contain my curiosity, I followed, keeping my distance but they were so focussed on each other I could have been singing a Christmas carol and they wouldn’t have noticed.

The walk to the car park was only ten minutes long, but provided plenty of time for the cool air to work its way underneath my coat and dress and find the damp, unprotected flesh between my thighs. I shivered, not entirely because of the cold, my thighs rubbing together as I strode purposefully along.

Crossing the service road myself, I approached the paved walkway, paused by the station’s tall, red and silver automatic ticket machine and watched as the couple walked slowly, hand in hand towards a car I did not recognise.

The woman opened the car’s rear doors, placed her bag on the seat then turned towards Tony. I caught a glimpse of her face in the streetlights.

She was about my age, about my height, about my class and looked as professional as I used to look before my pregnancy. She was the sort of woman who would move in the same kind of circles Pete and I moved but to my relief, I didn’t recognise her.

I watched while they took an age to say goodbye. From her expression, the woman was clearly enthralled to a degree that looked perilously close to that which I had suffered – and possibly even now still suffered.

Tony’s charm was running on full power as he helped her with her coat and as they finally began to take their leave of each other, they exchanged a long lingering kiss that immediately confirmed my suspicions.

I should have resolved to warn her about Tony in the way Julie had warned me but to my fury, the overpowering emotion I felt as I saw them together was jealousy; intense jealousy.

I watched as their kiss continued an impossibly long time, hands held tightly together, bodies pressed close. When their lips finally parted, I saw Tony’s hands flash up to their usual Goodbye Grope positions on her buttocks but, like me nearly twelve months ago, she made no attempt to remove them.

They kissed again then the woman looked at her watch. There was an exchange of words, she climbed into her car and drove slowly from the parking area.

I stood in the shadows as the man I had known so well and for so long stared at the woman’s disappearing vehicle, then made his way into the dark recesses of the car park, out of my line of sight.

I exhaled then inhaled deeply, unaware that I had been holding my breath throughout their embrace. My heart was thumping, my face flushed, my mind in turmoil and those parts of me that the cool air could unexpectedly reach, were tingling madly.

Go home Penny! Go home you stupid woman before you do something you’ll regret.

My SUV was at the opposite corner of the car park, which is probably why I hadn’t noticed Tony’s distinctive number plate when I arrived. I gathered my wits and my bags together and turned towards the pathway.

“Penny? I thought it was you!”

The voice that made my heart stop instantly was soft, close by, and alarmingly familiar. I froze dead still in the lamplight then turned towards it, my knees turning instantly to jelly and my tummy heaving with… was it fear?

“Tony! Oh my God!” I shrieked in astonishment and horror.

My former lover; the man who had first seduced me, fucked me, had an affair with me so intense that it almost destroyed my marriage then completely abandoned me was standing only a couple of feet away.

The expression on his face was one of genuine pleasure and surprise. I can only guess what the expression on mine might have been.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” he asked, a broad grin on his face.

“I’m sorry…” I stammered. “You caught me by surprise.”

For a few seconds we stared at each other. The skinny, swollen-bellied, guilt-ridden, knickerless scientist in her soiled dress staring at the successful businessman in his tailored, well-pressed suit, shirt and tie. His hair was immaculate, his face tanned, his eyes fixed on mine every bit as seductively as they had that first day less than a year ago.

Be strong Penny Barker. Be strong.

“I’ve not seen you for so long,” he smiled. “I’ve missed you.”

The barefaced cheek of the man was incredible. Wasn’t it Tony who had broken our relationship the moment he realised I was about to leave my husband for him? Wasn’t it Tony who had a stream of affairs with married women behind him and a wife in mid-divorce? Hadn’t I just seen him with another women in his arms?

And yet here he was, acting as if the last year hadn’t happened; as if we were still the close family friends we had been up until the moment his stubby, thick cock had first entered my body as I lay legs wide open on our lounge floor.

“What… what are you doing here?” I asked, trying desperately to retain some form of composure.

“Going home,” he smiled. “I’ve been to a meeting in London, like you I suspect. How are you?”

How on earth should I answer that? Fine, no thanks to you? Still married despite your best efforts?

“I heard you were pregnant,” he continued. “That was quite a surprise – especially after what you told me about Pete having had the snip!”

Was that a glint in his eye? Was he trying to make me give away a secret after only two sentences? After being so very intimate with him for so long, could Tony see through my defences that easily?

I wanted to run away; to put time and space between me and the man who had precipitated the last year’s extraordinary events, but there was no possible escape without attracting unwanted attention.

And if you are British, you really do not want to attract attention.

There was only one line of defence; attack.

“Never mind me,” I said with a smile and nonchalance worthy of an Oscar nomination at least. “How are you? I heard about you and Julie finally getting divorced. I’m so sorry for you both.”

He shrugged and sighed.

“It’s not what I wanted, but you know that already.”

I did indeed know that. What Tony wanted was the freedom to fuck as many married women as he could find, and still have a pretty, sexy wife to come home to.

“Julie says it’s nearly sorted,” I continued, rubbing in what I hoped was a sore point. “She seems to have moved on.”

He shot me a look and the twinkle reappeared in his eye.

“She’s not moved as far on as she’d have you believe,” he said quietly. “But yes, it should all be over legally in a few months.”

What did he mean? Were he and Julie still seeing each other? Was Tony, not Pete the man she had alluded to in our recent chat? I truly hoped so.

“How are the kids handling it?” I asked, trying to keep the focus on him.

“They’re being grown up about it, but they’re a bit baffled. Last year it was their Mum who was the fallen woman having an affair. Now it’s me who’s the Bad Guy. But you must know this already; you’ll have seen much more of Jack than I have.”

“I suppose we do see a lot of him,” I agreed. “But he never really talks about either of you. At least, not with us.”

Tony pulled a disappointed face. I remembered that face from our affair; it was the face he had pulled on the lamentably few occasions I had denied him access to my body.

“Do you have someone… special at the moment?” I asked archly.

“No-one… very special,” he replied.

Perhaps he hadn’t realised I had seen him with his latest lover. His hesitation told me that he was indeed having sex with someone but didn’t want to pass up an opportunity by telling a potential conquest this, however unlikely a prospect I must be. The man was incorrigible, but even after all he had done to me, I couldn’t avoid feeling his considerable attractiveness still.

Stop it Penny! For God’s sake, stop it!

“How’s Pete? Looking forward to being a Dad again?” Tony asked, making a stab at my weakest spot.

“Pete’s being great,” I told him truthfully. “It’s given him a burst of youth again. Loads of energy. He’d be a great Dad at any age.”

It was a good parry; the implication clearly was that Tony hadn’t been a good father even when he was young. It wasn’t really fair, but I needed to try and distance myself from the dangerous level of attraction I felt, and at that moment any barrier would do.

There was a brief pause in which the cool air found its tingly way into every crease and crevice in and around my vulva again, reminding me once again of my lack of knickers in front of a former lover. The result was rather more arousing than I was comfortable with. I crossed my feet to close my thighs try and keep the coldness out.

“We should get together again,” Tony eventually suggested. “Like I said, I’ve really missed you.”

The idea was simply ludicrous. I laughed aloud.

“The wife, her husband and ex-lover all cosying up together?” I raised both eyebrows. “I don’t think so Tony.”

“I meant just you and me,” he said quietly. “For… old times’ sake.”

Did he really think I was that naïve? That stupid? I could guess which ‘old times’ he wanted to recreate.

“I really do miss you Penny,” he insisted, at least sounding sincere. “Remember how special it was between us? I fell for you so badly.”

“You had a funny way of showing it,” I snorted.

“I know. I’m sorry but...”

“You hurt me, Tony,” I told him coldly. “You used me many times, you hurt me and you humiliated me. I was prepared to leave Pete and my family to be with you. You knew that but you dumped me anyway.”

“You have every reason to hate me, I agree. But please try to understand,” he grabbed me by the arm. “That was the reason I had to end it. I had fallen in love with you too and just couldn’t handle it! I’d never been in love like that before.”

Oh God! That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, even if it was true. No, especially if it was true.

“You really got to me, Penny. Your face, your smile, your cheeky laugh. “And as for the sex… Jesus, I’ve never known anyone like you in bed!”

Ridiculously, a glow of pride rose within me at these words, however unlikely they sounded. For a split second I wished Pete had heard my bedroom skills being praised so highly, just as I had been forced to hear about his.

But then this was Tony talking. How could I possibly know if he was telling the truth? And anyway, why would he still want me when he had fucked so many other poor married women?

And even if it was the truth, why on earth would I even contemplate starting anything that destructive again? However good the sex unquestionably had been, it could not possibly be enough for me to get involved with this amoral man, drop-dead gorgeous or not.

And yet there he was, saying all the right things; pressing all the right buttons.

“I’ve moved on Tony,” I lied, trying to convince myself. “I should never have let things get so… complicated. I was naïve and made a mistake. I’m happy the way things are now.”

“That would be such a waste,” he replied, ramping up the persuasion in his voice. “We were good together; very good indeed. Perfect physical compatibility. I know that. You know that. I miss it and I’m absolutely certain you miss it too.”

Could the man read my mind?

“Why else did you follow us… follow me all the way here from the train?” he demanded. “Why else have you been hiding behind the ticket machine, watching?”

“No, I..”

I tried to deny the accusation, but he cut me off at the first word.

“I saw you Penny. There’s a light over the ticket machine. I could see your pretty face very clearly. You must have been there all the time my friend and I were… saying goodbye.

“I know you better than you know yourself. I knew you wanted me to fuck you that first day long before you realised the truth. And I was right wasn’t I? And now I know you want me to do it again, no matter how many times you try and pretend it’s not true.”

“I’m going to leave now,” I said in desperation, turning away from him and towards the corner of the car park where my car stood.

He reached out a hand and grabbed my arm. Despite myself, the touch of his hand even in this unromantic way sent a thrill though me.

“Don’t kid yourself Penny; I know you too well. No-one can be as passionate in bed as you were and just let it all drop like a hot stone afterwards. After all we did together, no-one, least of all a hot, truly sexual woman like you could possibly be happy with just her husband.”

I could almost feel the heat from his familiar body. My own body began to betray me by lubricating heavily as if it knew what it needed to do to please this man.

“Remember Penny,” he continued. “There was a lot of pillow talk afterwards. I know what you really think of Pete’s puny cock and the hopeless way he fucks you. Orgasm-free, routine copulation you told me many times!”

I stared at him in horror, but he was far from finished.

“Once a cheat, always a cheat Penny. And I should know. You threw yourself into our affair every bit as enthusiastically as I did. There’s no way you just went back to being Pete’s faithful little wife again. No way. I reckon you’ve been fucked a good few times since we broke up and by a good few men too.”

I fought hard not to let my face give away the truth. Tony was right but I mustn’t let it show.

“And I’m not buying that vasectomy reversal bullshit either. You were knocked up by someone else. I know it, you know it and Pete must know it too. He’s not stupid. All it would take is a simple, easy test to prove it and then where would you be?”

I felt sick and began to wobble.

“What… what do you want?” I asked, aghast.

“Just as I said, I want us to be friends again, Penny. I want us to see each other again.”

“What kind of friends, Tony? There are many kinds of friendship.”

“Okay,” he paused. “I want us to be real friends again. Good friends. Close friends. Personal friends.”

“Friends… with benefits perhaps?” I added in question.

Oh my God! Why did I say that?

“Good idea, Penny!” Tony smiled. “Friends with Benefits. It could be our secret, like before. No-one else need ever know. Pete need never know if you don’t want him to. The kids need never know either.”

“Tony please…”

I had meant it as sarcasm – at least I thought I had – but he was deliberately taking it at face value.

“My flat is very private,” he continued. “The neighbours are out most of the day too. Even a crying baby wouldn’t be noticed.”

He was getting into his stride.

“It would be like old times – but this time we’d know where we stood from the start. No misunderstandings. No emotional relationships. No falling in love. No running away from Pete this time.”

I was staring at him, open mouthed. How could I even listen to this nonsense, let alone feel attracted to the appalling idea.

“We could just be Fuck Buddies if you like. Good friends who meet for the sheer physical, sexual pleasure they can bring each other. Admit it Penny. Your cunt has never had anything like my cock inside it, before or since! Your body needs mine as badly as mine needs yours.”

As if on cue, a small trickle of lubrication began to run slowly down the inside of my right thigh. My hands rose to my chest to find my nipples already hard, and not just because of the cool air.

Go home Penny! Go home now before you say or do something you’ll regret.

“You know I’m right,” he whispered, placing his hand on my pubic mound. “I know you’re getting wet down there. I can smell it from here!”

“But I love my husband,” I protested weakly.

“I know you do. I believe you. Being sexually compatible isn’t the same as being in love. Pete can’t give you what you need in bed but I can. I can’t give you the love and security you need; that’s Pete’s department. You need us both. You know you do. Why else would you be here, spying on me?”

“I…”

“We were made for each other, Penny. Neither of us is capable of being faithful now. We’re both tasted that forbidden fruit and know how very addictive it is. You’ve cheated on Pete with more than just me; don’t even try and deny it. I’ve cheated on Julie all our marriage. We might as well accept what we are and enjoy being unfaithful with each other again.”

“What about…?” I nodded in the direction the woman’s car had gone.

“Katherine? She’s a good friend too. She has a husband, two kids and a good, management job in the City. She’s lives about thirty miles from here and is one of the most intelligent people I have ever met – almost as clever as you, Penny. Far brighter than I could ever be. She earns more than I ever could too.

“She’s sensible enough to choose the best man for any job she wants doing. Decorating. Building. Fixing her car. There’s a man for each of those. She chooses her husband for a life partner and to be the father of her kids, but she wants me in the bedroom – which is where we’ve been all afternoon in her city flat.”

I must have looked either aghast or disbelieving.

“Katherine is simply awesome in bed Penny, but I would swap her for you in an instant.”

The look on his face told me this was the simple truth.

“Tell me you’ll think about it. No strings. No guilt. No commitment. You can call me any time you need a good fucking and I’ll come running. You know you want it Penny. That’s why you had to watch me now. All you have to do is let go your scruples, open your thighs and let me back in.”

I felt so confused and conflicted that I was sure I would faint. I must have looked like it too because Tony took my arms to steady me. I leaned again him for support, my nose full of the musky, masculine smell of his after-shave; the aroma that along with my own pungent juices, had filled my nose on so many occasions before.

Occasions I had thought had gone forever.

“I… I need to go home…” I gasped.

“Do you want me to take you?” he asked.

“NO!” I exclaimed then apologised. “No thank you. I’ll be okay.”

Tony helped me to my car and sat me in the driving seat. I fastened my belt.

“I’d better get back home too,” he said. Then he leaned close again. “Think hard about what I said. If you like the idea, you know my number.”

He stood up, turned as if to leave then leaned close again.

“Everyone wins. You get great sex, I get great sex. Pete stays in blissful ignorance and you can bring up your baby in the knowledge that your dirty secrets will remain just that.”

Tears began to form in my eyes. Frustration, confusion and powerful desire all rolled into one conflicted female mass.

“It’s an offer you can’t refuse, Penny. You’ll realise that eventually. You might not believe this but I’m a very patient man when I need to be. After all, I waited twenty years to get you into bed, didn’t I? And Christ, was that worth waiting for!

“Wait until the baby’s born and you’ve recovered, then call me when you’re ready to fuck. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

I looked at him, stunned as he left.

Chapter Forty-Two

The next few days passed in haze of fear and disbelief.

The heady blend of reluctant but genuine physical attraction to my former lover and vivid memories of the powerful physical side of our affair, fought against equally vivid memories of the painful, humiliating way in which it had ended.

Okay, Tony was a serial philanderer who could not be trusted to remain faithful to any woman, but was I any better? Hadn’t I amply demonstrated my own weakness where men were concerned, the most obvious evidence being the bulging belly that was now my most noticeable feature?

No, I was in no position to pass judgement, but that didn’t mean I had to agree to his proposal and make the same mistakes all over again.

My conscious mind told me it was an outrage; there was no way I should even for a second contemplate falling back into Tony’s arms, bed and influence.

But a woman in my advanced condition is driven by forces stronger than her conscious mind; emotions, hormones and a complete inability to forget how that condition had come about, conspire to defeat mere logic and produce questionable decisions.

During the day, there was no doubt in my mind. I would ignore both him and his suggestion. I was a married woman about to give birth to hr fourth child. I would not even see him again, let alone sleep with him

During the night however, the forces of darkness and desire took over, bringing back more and more vivid memories of what being with Tony had been like, inside and outside bed. Our affair might have been misguided and ultimately doomed, but it had at the time, been the most daring and exciting period of my life.

And there really was no denying how incredible his cock had felt in my vagina. Short, and so thick it could almost be called deformed, it had stretched my oversized passage in ways no other cock had done before or, most significantly, since.

Okay, he had been my first lover in the decades since my marriage, but could novelty really account for the extraordinary physical compatibility we had enjoyed? Not even Adam’s amazing body and technique had filled me like Tony had filled me.

Fortunately I had my children to distract me. Or at least two of them.

With parenthood approaching for my oldest son Josh and his girlfriend Samantha, there was plenty to talk to both of them about what parenthood was likely to be like. She and I seemed to have established a bond of impending motherhood beyond simply being her boyfriend’s mother, which made me quite remarkably happy.

Long phone calls were the best we could manage given the distance they lived away, but there were enough of these to maintain the strong relationship we had established during our shopping trips.

Isobel of course needed equally long phone calls to bemoan the lack of contact between her and Tony’s son Jack. With the University term only a matter of weeks old and with large distances between them, neither had been able to visit the other so far.

Under parental interrogation, Izzy confessed that there had been plenty of parties to distract her and that several good-looking boys had tried to get off with her but her love for Jack was so strong that she had resisted their advances easily.

I silently prayed that Jack’s feelings were at least as strong and that his own defences were as impregnable. If he was in any way his father’s son, Izzy was in for a big disappointment but to be fair to Jack, I had seen no evidence of a wandering eye.

What did concern me was the almost total absence of communication from my middle child, Tim. Always the quietest of our three kids, Tim had been very supportive to Izzy when her first great love affair broke down – a direct result of her cheating – but had said hardly a word to or about his mother’s pregnancy or the imminent arrival of another sibling.

On the few occasions we had spoken on the phone, he was been sweet and polite, but I could tell there was something bothering him. I hoped getting together at Christmas would let me get closer to him again, despite there being a tiny baby around.

Pete was, as usual, being the strong, supportive husband I needed to offset the insecurities my pregnancy, our trip to Manchester, Pete’s considerable success fucking Eve and above all, my encounter with Tony were producing.

The expressions of love and desire on his face when he looked at me could be nothing but genuine.

We were still making love almost daily, my need for physical reassurance now at least as great as my desire for sexual gratification. The size of my belly severely restricted the positions I could now manage; my orgasms were now even fewer and entirely cunnilingual but Pete’s skills in that department ensured the pleasure was immense.

With over a month still to go before my due date, even Tony’s proposal could be put on the back burner for a few weeks.

Or so I thought.

*

“You’re still beautiful,” Tony whispered, running his fingers along the line of my jaw.

I shivered as his deep, seductive eyes scanned my over-sized body. His fingers slipped the straps of my negligee from my shoulders, first the right, then the left. The diaphanous material slid smoothly and silently down my sides to lie in a crumpled circle around my ankles.

I stood before him in my unattractive maternity bra and large white knickers, my belly bulging so far forward I could barely see my toes.

“You prefer your women pregnant?” I asked with a wan smile.

“I’d have you any size or shape,” he replied, gently stroking my bump with his fingertips. “I just wish that baby inside you was mine.”

“That would have been nice,” I whispered in return, raising my face towards his.

Our lips met; softly, lovingly, both knowing that passion would soon follow but in no hurry to get there.

“I knew you’d call,” he smiled. “I didn’t think it would be so soon, but I‘m so pleased you did.”

I could barely remember making the call myself, but there we were, in his flat, the curtains drawn, winter darkness outside, warm sensuality inside.

We kissed again, lips open, tongues entwined, his mouth tasting of rich red wine. I shivered at the memory and felt the heat between my thighs building as his warm hands explored my body from my shoulders to the base of my buttocks.

A single finger was drawn along the crease of my buttocks. I pressed myself forward towards his groin, feeling the thick bulge of his hardening cock against the large bulge of my belly.

The moving fingers rose up my back and I felt the clasp of my bra being unfastened. It fell forwards along my arms before I swept it away to stand bare breasted before the man who first drew me away from the path of fidelity.

“I love your breasts,” Tony hissed as his fingers gently cupped their smooth globes, traced along the crease on their underside then toyed with their dark, hard, proud nipples. “They are so much bigger now.”

Indeed, they were bigger. I had grown three cup sizes over the last few months but even now my boobs were still far short of any normal woman’s endowment.

“You men are all the same,” I grinned, my arms at his waist, enjoying the kneading of my newly sensitised glands in his large, strong palms. “You tell us you want us for our intellect but when it comes down to it, the bigger the tits, the better the girl.”

Tony pulled a face in protest, then laughed.

“I admit it! And I apologise on behalf of my sex.” I laughed too. “But you’re not quite right about all of us.”

I raised an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

“When it comes to a woman’s body, there’s one part I love best of all.”

So saying, Tony released my boobs, slid his hand down my tummy then slipped it smoothly underneath the elastic and into the front of my panties. A moment later he was cupping my mound, his fingertips exploring the soft smooth, sensitive skin then diving deeper to play with the soft collection of flesh within my slit – a slit that immediately wept at his touch.

“You shaved yourself?” he said, surprised but pleased.

I nodded.

“Just for me?”

I nodded again.

“I know you like it that way.”

“Oh God, Penny. There really isn’t anyone like you!”

And with those words, Tony began to finger me with a skill and dexterity I had forgotten he possessed. My entire vulva came alive to his touch, my clitoris swelling and standing proud, my inner lips parting to provide free access to the moist entrance to my eager vagina.

My chest went tight, my knees went weak and I leaned heavily against him as my arousal mounted exponentially. Within a minute I was panting, my legs opening to give more space for his hand, my face and chest burned with heat and a moment later I could feel a jet of fluid burst from my vulva and onto his active hand.

The noises emanating from between my thighs became so wet it was almost primeval. Tony finger-fucked my vagina and scraped the underside of my clitoris with a vigour that gave me no time to recover. The heat inside me grew and grew until a mighty climax struck my entire body full-on.

“MmmmMMMGGGHH!”

I sank my teeth into Tony’s neck as I came helplessly on his hand and arm, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Again and again the climaxes hit; again and again I wailed and moaned, my teeth now drawing blood.

Eventually his movements slowed to a halt. I collapsed against him, feeling his strong arms taking my weight as he lowered me to the familiar sofa – a place he and I had fucked so many times before and on which relationship was about to recommence.

I lay on my back, letting him strip the panties from me without hesitation or resistance, leaving me completely naked. In an instant, he had lowered his trousers and underwear, once again releasing the monstrously thick cock that had provided so much pain and pleasure in the past and which was now the sole focus of my life.

All I wanted in the world was to feel that half-deformed organ in my vagina; my pussy; my cunt again. But even in this depraved state of arousal, my maternal instincts did not abandon me. I looked up into his eyes.

“Be careful, Tony,” I begged. “Please! The baby…”

With a broad smile, the man who had been my first lover covered my supine body with his, his short but monstrously thick cock in his hand. I looked up at him, my heart thumping, my legs turning to jelly, my vulva alive with expectation.

“You want me Penny, don’t you?” he growled as he came closer. “You’ve never had a cock as good as this, before or since. Admit it, Penny. You’re mine and always will be mine.”

I stared at his handsome face, at his powerful physique, at his tight buttocks, strong legs, broad chest and muscular arms. No matter what he had done to me – or perhaps to my shame because of it, he was right.

I wanted him; I wanted him badly. I was his.

“I can see it in your eyes, Penny Barker,” he smiled triumphantly, moving closer and closer to my pregnant body. “You never forget your first unfaithful fuck and I was yours.”

My whole body was opening despite myself, my legs weakening, my vagina lubricating for all it was worth.

“You’ll never be free of me! Whatever you do, whoever you fuck, your cunt belongs to me! You know it! I know it! Your body needs mine like your lungs need air!””

The harshness of his words struck like a slap in the face. Their crudeness hurt, their thoughtlessness hurt too but most of all, the truth behind them hurt.

Tony was right; I did still want him. I desperately wanted to be with him again; to touch him, to kiss him, to have that extraordinarily thick, ugly cock thrust so hard into my body again that my oversized vagina was stretched tight as a wire.

“Say it, Penny,” he growled, moving closer.

My eyes flicked from his handsome face to his ugly cock and back.

“Say it; you know it’s the truth!”

It was the truth. My conscious mind knew it. My subconscious had always known it but most of all, my painfully aroused body knew it.

“Fuck me!” I croaked as he approached, my knees rising, my legs parting instinctively, exposing my vulva as obscenely as I could to the man who had first fucked the fidelity out of my marriage.

“What was that?” he snarled with a leer, his cock now thicker than I could ever remember it before.

“Fuck me Tony! You’re right; my cunt is yours. It has always been yours!”

“Again Penny Barker!”

“Fuck me Tony. Fuck my cunt like you always did. Make it hurt! Make me cum as hard as you did before!”

“What about your husband? You’re a married woman!”

“I don’t care. He’s a cuckold. I’m yours, not his. I just want to be fucked by you!”

“What about the baby, Penny?”

“My baby should have been yours. Fuck me! Fuck me now! Make another baby in me! Make me yours again!”

His body loomed over me as he mounted, blocking out the light. I felt hot; very hot underneath him. I felt my inner thighs burning; I felt his hands on my knees, forcing my legs wider and wider apart until my hips were in pain. I felt the heat of his body over mine. I felt his huge, horribly deformed cock against my tingling entrance, parting my lips, pausing before entering my body, slowly stretching me tightly as it worked its way into the mouth of my vagina.

Oh my fucking God! How long had it been since this monster had forced its way into me? Too, too long!

I couldn’t see the expression on Tony’s face in the darkness, but I could feel his whole body tense and his muscles bunch and coil ready for the single monstrous thrust that would impale me fully on his erect cock and destroy any illusion I might have had of ever being anything but his fuck doll.

He drew himself back, placed his head against my weeping entrance and…

“Oooowwww!”

The sharp stabbing pain that seemed to pulse through my entire body made me cry out in surprise and fear.

Something was wrong.

Surely his cock hadn’t been this big a year ago? Okay it had stretched me terribly; but he and I had fucked dozens of times; I couldn’t remember him hurting me this badly.

He thrust again, harder this time.

“Ooowwww!”

“Tony please! Be careful! The baby!”

The pain became stronger.

“Ooowwww! Tony please…”

“Penn? What’s the matter?”

“Ooowwww!”

“Penny!”

That wasn’t Tony’s voice! The pain grew more intense.

“Penny! Wake up! Penny!”

What was Pete doing there? Had he come to watch Tony fuck me?

“Penny!”

As the pain faded, Pete’s anxious voice broke though the daze as I slowly regained consciousness, the extraordinarily vivid dream that had haunted my sleep still dizzyingly fresh in my mind.

I was in bed; in my bed; in the bed I shared with my husband. There was no Tony; I was not being fucked.

But the pain had been real. It still was, though not as intense.

It was dark; Pete was alongside me, concerned. It was Saturday morning, still very early. I panted as the pain eased a little more and reality dawned on me. Pete turned on the bedside light and looked at me anxiously.

‘What’s the matter?” he asked, clearly worried.

“I… I’m not sure,” I mumbled in reply.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his hand on my arm. “Do you feel ill?”

“I don’t know…”

I struggled to make sense of what was going on. All I knew was that I had a terrible pain in my lower stomach which wasn’t fading like the last remnants of the dream were fading.

“Oh God!” I mumbled, feeling very unwell indeed.

“Are you going to be sick?” he asked. “Can I help you to the bathroom?”

“I’m not sure. Jesus, that hurt!”

The pain was gone; I tried to get back to sleep but a short while later, another powerful pulse of pain passed through my lower belly again. My hands flew instinctively to the source of the discomfort; the large, very distinctive shape of my baby bump under my night dress.

To my horror, I found the hem sticky and very wet.

Pete and I had been out to dinner with friends the night before. The evening had ended very late; we had been too tired even to consider having sex on our return, so I knew it wasn’t my usual post-copulation leak.

“Oh my God!” I gasped, thrusting my hand between my thighs and bringing it back to my face as Pete turned on the bedside light.

“What’s the matter?”

I blinked and stared at my fingers. They were covered in fluid.

“My waters must have broken,” I gasped. “She’s coming now!”

“But you’re not due for over a month!”

“Tell her that,” I croaked as the contraction grew even stronger.

“Can you pull on some clothes?”

Pete had already leapt from the bed and was hurriedly pulling on a pair of old jeans and a sweat shirt.

“I bloody hope so,” I gasped, throwing off the duvet and with some difficulty swinging my legs over the side of the mattress. “Call the hospital and tell them we’re coming.”

*

I sometimes wonder why I ever bother making plans. Something always happens to drive a coach and horses through anything I decide should happen in any particular way.

Given the pressures and responsibilities of my job, I had intended to keep working until only two weeks before my due date – as long as my blood pressure and other things allowed. I had planned to spend the remaining time getting the last few things ready for the new arrival and resting up for the ordeal ahead.

At my age, I knew I would need all the strength I could muster, both during the birth and for the next eighteen years. Being medical ourselves, Pete and I had done everything they had told us in ante-natal classes; put together a birth plan; what to take, what position to use, what pain relief to accept.

Now all that planning went out of the window as my husband drove at breakneck speed through the empty city streets towards the hospital, my wet bottom on a folded towel, my body periodically racked by horrifyingly familiar spasms I had not felt for over twenty years.

Pete pulled the car to a halt in one of the emergency parking spaces outside the Maternity Unit then helped me stagger through the entrance. Being November, I had pulled a heavy overcoat on top of my night gown, was wearing trainers and had absolutely no make-up on so despite my pains, I silently prayed that no-one I knew would see me.

The arrivals nurse recognised an emergency when she saw it and within minutes Pete and I were in one of the more private birthing suites, walking slowly up and down, me leaning heavily on his arm while the midwives went through the registration process painfully slowly.

Because of my age I had been red-flagged so an on-call consultant was being woken in case things went awry – which given my baby was coming more than a full month early, had already happened. There was talk of assistance, talk of spinal blocks; there was even talk of an emergency c-section but I was coherent enough to insist everything should go as naturally as possible.

As I lay on my back, legs apart with a young female head only inches from my vulva, it soon became clear that whether things went naturally or not, they were going to go quickly. I was already three-quarters dilated.

What was also clear was that an important part of my preparations had been missed. I had planned to allow my pubic hair to regrow somewhat before the birth to save embarrassment, but the unexpected early confinement had caught me by surprise.

The look of shock on her face when the young midwife discovered that a woman old enough to be her mother was lying there in the final stages of pregnancy with a fully shaven vulva might have made me hysterical with shame had it not been for the increasingly frequent and agonising bolts of pain that gripped me.

When the girl called in two of her colleagues, my embarrassment multiplied but to give them all credit, whatever they thought about the middle-aged slut on the bed in front of them, they showed no sign of it.

Fortunately, gas-and-air helped dull my self-consciousness and three hours later when the baby really began to come, all of my concentration was on my belly.

I do not propose to detail all that happened during the birth; some things aren’t suitable even for erotic stories. Suffice to say that it was probably the most painful, exhausting, humiliating and terrifying few hours of my entire life.

In the twenty years since I had given birth to Isobel, my body had grown older, stiffer, less flexible and less able to withstand pain. There were moments when it seemed everything was going wrong; that an emergency operation would be needed. There were other times when it looked like a natural birth would take place of its own accord.

In the end I did need help but the final pushes that brought my newest, least expected child into the world were my own.

As soon as her head was out of my body, a tall, slim woman in a white coat entered the room and began to inspect my baby. I felt her being lifted, heard her cry, felt the drag of the cord across my inner thighs. Someone told me to push again. I did and felt the gooey mass of the placenta leaving my body.

I heard words being spoken, indistinct and serious but then a smiling Doctor placed my brand-new daughter back on my belly.

“She’s perfect,” the woman whispered. “A bit small and premature but I’m not worried. I’ll stand down the theatre; we’re not going to need that c-section after all. Well done Mrs. Barker; you did really well. I’m so happy for you all.”

I opened my eyes. The room was still spinning but the wonderful weight of my baby was there on my battered belly, warm and sweet-smelling, her head close to mine. I could see her deep brown eyes, a shock of dark, curly hair…

And her father’s distinctive, unmissable, olive-gold skin!