Reading notes: I receive many requests asking me to describe how I became a HotWife. I usually direct these enquirers to the story I had published on here some time ago. (It's "Olwen Goes Black" if you're interested.) But earlier this week, a follower requested a story which starts after Richard and I gave up swinging and before the events described in "Olwen Goes Black". To be honest, it was so long ago (so many delicious cocks, so little time!) that I cannot remember perfectly the sequence of events. But what follows did actually happen, and started both Richard and myself on a journey of self discovery; one that we are still travelling on today, nearly 30 years later. All sexual encounters described below occur between consenting adults of 18 years of age or older. Please consider using the scoring system and leave a comment if you feel so inclined. Thank you.
The time: A Monday evening. The place: Olwen and Richard Simpson's house.
"Richard, come and look at this," Olwen Simpson called downstairs from the small upstairs room that she and her husband called 'the office', because it was here that their home computer lived, and from this room they contacted their on-line friends, and did some administration work in the evenings for their day jobs.
Richard left the task of stacking the dishwasher with the dirty dishes from their evening meal. He hurried upstairs. In the office, he found Olwen sitting in front of the computer, staring at the screen, and drawing occasionally on the cigar in the cigar holder he had recently purchased for his darling wife. Richard felt his tiny cock grow hard immediately. He loved watching Olwen smoke. When he confessed his smoking fetish to her following his disasterous attempts to fuck a fellow swinger at a recent party, Olwen had vowed to feed her beloved husband's fetish and had begun smoking cigars. The stubby, elegant cigar holder was a 'thank you' present from a very grateful Richard.
"I've had another reply," Olwen said excitedly, "and unlike most of the others I've had, this seems promising. Pull up a chair and read this email."
As always, Richard did as he was told. He knew that Olwen had finally accepted that they were unlikely to be invited to attend any more of the swinging parties that they had both previously enjoyed. Olwen enjoyed them because she always got fucked by someone with a much bigger cock than Richard possessed; he enjoyed the thought that the woman he loved, and who loved him back, was being given the sexual satisfaction that he couldn't provide.
He had persuaded her to consider the Hot Wife and cuckold lifestyle. Initially, she had been upset and horrified at the thought of having sex with another man. Indeed, the first time he'd suggested it, she'd stormed out of the marital bed, and for the first (and only) time since they had married, she'd slept alone in the spare bedroom.
But Olwen had hated sleeping alone as much as Richard had. They made up the very next morning, and began to plan how they could join a swingers' group. Initially, it had been successful, but eventually Richard's 'shortcomings', as he termed them meant that invitations to parties dwindled and eventually dried up. But Olwen had been bitten by the 'big, thick cock' bug, so that when Richard suggested that she register on a website that catered for Hot Wives and cuckolds, she readily agreed.
Olwen sat and smoked as Richard read. Eventually he turned to her with a huge grin.
"You're right," he said. "It does sound promising. It's written far more coherently than most of the replies you've had so far. The spelling, punctuation and the grammar seem to indicate someone with a modicum of education."
"And he hasn't attached a cock pic," replied Olwen. "What do you think? A cautious reply, indicating that I'm interested and that I'd welcome a bit more detail of what he wants from a possible relationship?"
"That would be my advice," Richard said. "Oh, god, I'm so excited at the thought of you making me a cuckold. And welcoming you back home with another man's cum in your cunt so that I can reclaim you and have sloppy seconds."
"Fuck, Olwen, I'm so horny. Do you think we can have an early night? I'd love to fill you up with cum right now!"
Olwen drew heavily on her cigar in its' holder and blew a long, thin stream of creamy smoke at Richard.
"I need to answer this email," she said, "so go and finish your chores in the kitchen and we'll see about sex when we've both done our tasks."
"Mind you," she continued, "if you cum before I've had at least two orgasms, you're going to have to go down on me and get me off with your tongue."
Richard made his way back to the kitchen with a grin like the Cheshire Cat, whilst Olwen, her cigar holder firmly in the corner of her mouth, typed out a suitably enigmatic reply to her would-be lover. As she typed, she felt her clit twitch and the familiar sensation of dampness in her cunt. Yes, she would allow Richard to fuck her later on, but she was determined to make him eat her cream pie too, regardless of how many orgasms she had before he shot his bolt inside her.
The time: Nine weeks later. The place: A Premier Inn carpark, 30 miles from the Simpson's home town.
"Now you're sure that you're happy with me going through with this?"
Olwen had finished touching up her lipstick in the car's vanity mirror, and she turned to face Richard who was sitting behind the wheel, looking, she thought, rather anxious.
"It's not too late to call it off," she continued. "I won't think any the less of you if you turn the car around and take us both back home. I can phone Mark from my mobile and explain."
"No, we've come this far, and you look ravishing," Richard said in a clear, determined voice. "And anyway, we both know that this will be, to all intents and purposes, a 'one night's stand'. Or rather a 'one afternoon's stand.' Mark is going home because his mother is unwell. If you plan to continue to be a Hot Wife, Carlisle is much too far away from us for this to become a regular thing."
"I only wish I could be a fly on the wall this afternoon, and watch you getting fucked. I'm going to be on pins until you phone and ask me to collect you."
Olwen smiled.
"I do love you," she said softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Just try and keep your hands away from your cock whilst I'm away. I promise you I'll be up for sloppy seconds as soon as we get home."
Richard groaned.
"Oh god, Olwen," he croaked, "I'm so glad you agreed to try this lifestyle. I'm so turned on. It might only be about four inches long, but my cock's like an iron bar!"
"No, dear. Not a bar," Olwen replied sardonically. "A darning needle is a more apt description, I think. I only hope that I can feel you inside me after Mark has stretched me out with his real man's cock! And whatever the outcome this afternoon, if I get a taste for making you a cuckold, we've got Andrew to develop and encourage to take the plunge. He sounds an interesting character, and very promising too."
(Olwen was referring to Andrew, (later Anthony/Tony) with whom she was to have a fairly longstanding relationship, as described in the story 'Olwen Goes Black.)
Olwenput her lipstick away in her shoulder bag. She reassured herself that her new lady pipe and tobacco were both inside her bag and gave herself one last check up in the mirror.
