WARNING!! This story involves a "hotwife" having sex with a man, other than her husband, without any revenge or consequence. DO NOT CONTINUE if this offends or upsets you.
I love hearing feedback; however, any negative, non-constructive, and insulting comments will be removed. I did not use an editor but I did my best at proofreading before posting. With that being said, there will be plenty of glaring mistakes. I apologize and I hope it doesn't distract you from the story.
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I arrived home the next evening from my business trip and found my beautiful Irene sitting on the couch in the living room. I immediately noticed she had a glow about her. An aura of confidence that illuminated from her. Perhaps it was all in my mind but I couldn't be for sure. No one would have believed that just the night before she had slept with another man. Just the night before my conservative wife performed acts that she wouldn't even do with me. I noticed her elegant white smile and I remembered how in the past I had always picked on her for it; telling her she could be in a Colgate commercial. However, I was very proud of her perfect hygiene; always neat and clean. If cleanliness was next to godliness then my wife was an angel.
"An angel with a secret," I thought while displaying a devilish smile.
My reflection would be short. I immediately began thinking of her bent over the very couch she sat on. Her screaming in ecstasy; begging her black lover to not stop fucking her. I must have been completely phased out because the next thing I realized was my wife standing in front of me while giving me a loving kiss.
"Welcome home, honey. I've missed you so much." She said still smiling.
I just returned the smile in an effort to act normal. "I've missed you too." I replied.
Since meeting Dwayne we have been in similar situations and yet I still couldn't help but feel awkward around Irene the day after their dates. Not that I didn't approve of her behavior, hell I wanted it, but I just didn't know how to act. What was the correct way to bring it up? Do I casually ignore it, and let her initiate the conversation, or just bring it up right out of the gate? I honestly would have preferred the latter. Not because I wanted to get it over with or something. I'm just anxious to hear the story from her in person and not over the phone like I had the night before. I wanted to hear her voice, her tone; I wanted to see her facial expression as she reminisced over the details. It would have been the closest thing to actually seeing it with my own eyes. Instead, I was left with a type of empty feeling and an overwhelming awkwardness. I could only wait and hope she would bring it up.
We hugged and kissed some more. I carried the rest of my luggage inside as she started to work on dinner. I found myself constantly daydreaming about her date, which resulted in my arousal. I had to fight back the urge to just barge into the kitchen and demand her to tell me everything. The whole day seemed surreal until I eventually broke free of my trance and began to regain my normal composure. I busied myself with miscellaneous tasks until dinner was finished.
We set down to a good meal and glass of wine. We proceeded with the usual small talk. She asked me about my trip and I about her weekend. I was completely uninterested in my trip and merely spouted out the formalities.
"Come on babe! Tell me about that wonderful fucking you got yesterday!" I screamed inside my mind. While my outside displayed a calm and silent composure.
I began to wonder if she was intentionally prolonging my agony. She started at the very beginning of the weekend and slowly went over everything except her date and the Old Man.
"I guess that covers my weekend," she said then proceeded to stare down at her plate while playing with her food like a child.
"That isn't everything," I responded. "You are leaving out a big part."
"I know... but I've already told you about that. In fact, a little too much." She replied.
"I want to hear it again. It's fun to hear you talk about it. And what makes you think you've said too much?" I asked her.
"I barely remember everything I told you but what I do remember makes me sound like a total slut." She said disappointed.
"After all this and you still are holding back?" I spouted out.
She looked at me, almost angrily at first, then she accepted the situation and merely asked, "What you want to know honey?"
"When do you want to see him again?" I asked.
"I've got a date with him this weekend." She replied.
I was shocked, not only from the fact she herself called it a date but that it was already confirmed without my pushing. After she told me they were going to the movies. I immediately reflected on how that was an actual date, not just some pre-sex romp. I was very intrigued and almost without saying, excited.
"That's an actual date." I stated.
"Well, he is my boyfriend. You think it's going to be sex all the time?" She said nonchalantly. "But don't worry, there will still be plenty of after sex," she continued with a big playful smile.
"Your boyfriend... I like that." I told her while nodding in agreement.
"I figured you would..." she replied.
We discussed her previous dates and the upcoming weekend. I asked questions and she gave the best answer she could but rarely to my complete satisfaction. Eventually we was finished with dinner and after cleaning up we went our separate ways. That night we would make slow love. I was pleasantly surprised when all of a sudden while on she was on top, she started teasing me by talking about her the Old Man.
"Dwayne is so great at sex," she told me with her eyes closed, clearly thinking of him.
"Better than me?" I asked. I could tell she didn't like the question. She did not want to get put on the spot and probably didn't know how to reply. I imagined she was debating on telling the truth or a lie.
After a brief hesitation she replied, "You are a great lover."
"That is not what I asked," I replied, sensing some anger from her.
Eventually she replied with a simple, "Yes."
But I wasn't going to settle for that meager little answer and persistent with my question.
"Yes, what?" I asked, watching her already closed eyes press harder down.
"Yes, he is a better at sex! A lot better..." She furiously answered, trying to satisfy my question.
The last part particularly stung me with jealousy but it was exactly what I wanted. I immediately started to cum, a little early for Irene because she started to protest but it was too late. I was finished and she was left wanting. At first I felt guilty; however, I eventually got a wicked thought. I was going to make sure Irene didn't get any sexual satisfaction until her date. To make it even worse, I was going to do everything I could to keep her on edge. I almost got hard again thinking about her completely horny for her date.
The week dragged by and I kept to my plan. Everyday I would find something new to turn Irene on. I sent her pictures and GIFS of interracial couples fucking. I would giver her sensual massages and foreplay, only to turn down her advances. Every now and then I would walk into the room and reach into her pants to play with her pussy. At first she would resist, telling me it was inappropriate, but later in the week she was extremely horny and wouldn't protest at all. Eventually welcoming the temporary relief, only for me to stop and leave her hornier than before. I noticed she would change her panties during the day, telling me she was really "sweaty" but I knew it was from her arousal soaking them.
When Friday arrived, Irene was ecstatic to see him. I opened the door and was the first to greet the Old Man. Eventually, however, Irene came running past me into his arms. They met with an open mouth kiss, which lasted several seconds. Before I knew it they were off on their date. To my disappointment Irene would go to his apartment later that night and have sex with him there. She told me later that she didn't feel comfortable having sex in front of me. Of course, she would always tell me about the entire experience, eventually she got good at describing all the dirty details.
Part II
Months went by and Irene continued seeing the Old Man. I noticed their relationship began to get really serious. She would text him throughout the day and almost every night they would call each other. I could hear her laughter as they talked and would see her face light up whenever they were together. Instead of the occasional Friday or Saturday night get together, the entire weekends started to be reserved for just their dates, with me getting an occasional Sunday with Irene.
I also noticed other changes occurring, such as Irene dressing more provocative. One of my oddly favorite physical changes was Irene's pussy started to really stretch out. It wasn't a disgusting mess or something, on the outside it looked the same. But whenever I would make love to her, which happened a lot more frequently, I would notice her looseness. Her pussy was literally being refitted for the Old Man's monstrous cock.
One night before we went to a sleep, I was laying in the bed reading. Irene came walking into the room after her nightly phone call with Dwayne. She seemed sad, almost on the verge of tears.
"Babe, what's the matter?" I asked; fearing the worse.
"Honey, we need to talk about something," she replied.
She lied down beside me and stared into my eyes. My mind was racing and I didn't know what to expect. I just held my breath and waited for her to continue.
She spoke softly, "I don't want to lose you but I've learned to be honest. That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Of course, babe." I said calmly. Except, I wasn't calm.
There was a moment of silence as she tried to get the courage to say what was on her mind. Several times her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, only to shut it again. Eventually she spouted out what had bothered her.
