This is a Loving Wives' tale in the sad cheating wife sub-category. There is limited sex, and the burns are more like scalds, but that's just the way life played out this time.
This is a rewrite of the story first released in April 2024. I found a common theme among the many comments that followed regarding the epilogue, and they inspired me to try for a better story instead of an over-the-top one, loaded with LW tropes, that was just fun to write. I hope readers and re-readers both enjoy the result.
Released solely via Literotica July 2024.
I Did It For You
Ch. 01
The first honk came while I was collapsed across Maeve's back, trying to catch my breath while I luxuriated in the feeling of her freshly cum-filled pussy massaging my still hard cock. The honk was followed immediately by the mantel clock chiming. I turned my head to the side and saw it was 2:30.
"Oh, fuck," I groaned, "right on time."
My wife laughed, which made her cunt do things certain to sustain my erection a little longer.
We'd both known my best friend Frank was due soon to pick me up for a 4-day-weekend hunting trip, but when I'd found Maeve draped over the arm of the sofa, bottomless, with her round ass up and firm legs spread, I couldn't resist going in for one more dip.
I'd only had to work a half day this Thursday at the start of my short vacation and had already shown my wife how much I was going to miss her when I'd gotten home from work two hours earlier. That earlier action meant the "one more quickie" she asked for on the second go-round wasn't as quick as expected, thus I was just filling her again when Frank arrived.
The horn honked a second time and I reluctantly pulled free and scurried out of the living room and across the entry way to the front door, cock deflating and dripping. I stuck my head and one arm around the door and held up a finger to signal my friend standing beside his Ford F-250 that I'd be out in a minute. Pulling back inside, I closed the door and leaned back against it.
Maeve laughed again and I had to laugh with her. She had flipped over and was lying on her back, now using the sofa arm to elevate her legs, apparently working to keep my creampie from dripping out of her onto the furniture. Well, she certainly wasn't prepared to talk to Frank to buy me time to clean up. Not when all she was wearing was a short babydoll that would have shown both the bottoms of her ass cheeks and my seed running down her thighs if she stood up.
I went the other way across the entry hall to the half-bath, put a washcloth under hot water and gave myself a quick whore bath. As I came out, I struggled to do up the zipper, snap, and belt on pants that had never come off to fuck my wife's needy pussy.
The owner of said needy pussy was now standing by the door, thighs tightly clenched. She was so gorgeous I was prepared to call off the whole hunting trip and stay with her, maybe clean up the last creampie with my tongue until I was ready to give her a fresh one.
And I might have if she hadn't been holding out my quilt-lined canvas jacket. I stepped up, took it from her, and leaned in for a final kiss. Then I picked up my gun case and gear bag from where they lay ready in front of the door and Maeve pulled it open for me.
As I stepped out onto the porch, my wife leaned around the door the same cautious way I had and smiled and waved at Frank. Maeve is adventurous, even daring in the bedroom - or living room or kitchen or... but that naughty streak ends at the door. I'm sure Frank would have liked a look at her in the babydoll with no undies, but that kind of flashing or teasing wasn't Maeve's style. And that suited me just fine.
Ch. 02
Frank had his beast of a pick-up tricked out with everything we might need for hunting, dressing, and transporting our quarry; he swore that such preparation equated strongly to success. He'd opened the lock box behind the cab, and I put my rifle case in next to his and my gear bag into a plastic storage box secured to the sidewall. Then he pulled the soft cover back over the bed.
I climbed into the cab and took another look at the porch; the front door was closed. Frank backed out of the driveway and then headed toward the interstate.
"You stink, dude," he said flatly, after we'd been rolling along some twenty minutes.
"Sorry, man. She just gets so juicy when I get her going."
"And she makes you sweat like a pig. I'm smelling the crotch of your arms, not her legs."
I could only laugh.
We made good time to the old cabin that had been in Frank's family for generations. Since his divorce he'd been coming up more often and had made a couple of significant improvements over the past few years, including upgrading the insulation and heating, so we didn't have to stay bundled up in parkas the whole time. For this season, he'd put in a satellite dish that not only brought in lots of channels, but also Internet.
"Still no reliable cell coverage up here," he said when unveiling the upgrade, "but you can use WhatsApp through the WiFi if you want to call Maeve."
"You know, she's not expecting much contact and I do like being disconnected occasionally, so I think I won't tell her about having Internet up here just yet."
We'd eaten dinner and I was reading a John Sandford novel while Frank was surfing on his laptop. We were both sipping on our one beer for the night; we weren't stereotypical yahoos just out for a drunken boys' trip free from our wives. We were actually there to test ourselves against nature and hopefully fill our freezers with venison.
"Holy shit!" blurted Frank.
I closed my book but kept my finger in place. I was expecting a follow-up to the exclamation, but Frank's eyes were still glued to the screen, clearly reading as he scrolled.
"Holy double shit," he said, before raising his eyes from the screen and staring at me, bug-eyed.
Then his face got a look of doubt, as if perhaps he shouldn't have called out to me.
I replaced my finger with a bookmark and said, "What is it, Frank?"
Was he looking at a news site? Had my house burned down or had Maeve been in a car crash?
His voice and face dropped. "Oh, fuck. You've gotta see for yourself." He turned the laptop ninety degrees, so it faced the empty chair to his right. I crossed to the dining table and took a seat. I forced my eyes to the screen, expecting a headline of horror.
It wasn't a news site, it was some kind of social media site. There on the screen was a picture of a smiling Maeve. The smile was very wicked and I remembered what she'd done to my cock with that mouth just after I'd taken this photo a year or so ago.
I looked up at Frank. "What the hell? What is this?"
"I'm sorry, Matt, but it's a dating site," he replied helplessly.
"A dating site?" Shit just wasn't registering.
"Look," he said, "you know that after Tracy and I split up, I was fucked up and I just sat around for six months or more, barely pulling on my own crank. Then one day I woke up horny, so I started checking out Tinder and other sites to meet women."
"Meet women." I looked at him more firmly. "But you were horny, so...?"
"So, some of these sites kind of skip over the dating and get right to the banging. There are lots of lonely or adventurous women out there - widows, divorcees, lesbians who like cock." Now his voice stumbled. "Um...I've stayed away from them, but there are also some wives out there."
"Wives?"
"Well...yeah. There are some wives...and a lot of husbands...who are out there looking for some action on the side."
I looked back at the screen. Farther down the page was another photo of my wife. Her buxom Irish Milkmaid body was posed lasciviously in lingerie. My gut twisted. "Maeve?"
But the profile didn't say Maeve, it said
LonelyLyttleGyrl, with a handle of @LLytlGyrl
"Hey, Matt, listen man, let me tell you something, another thing I've found is that there's lots of bullshit and even fraud going on out there." He gave a nod to the laptop. "I've come across fake profiles more than once; profiles using a woman's name or image without her knowledge. Maeve could be a victim here. I mean, I've never seen her here or on any other site before."
I mentally grabbed at that straw as I looked at the profile. The photos were definitely Maeve, could they have been hacked from our own computer? Then I registered a detail that sent a needle into my heart. The lingerie set she was wearing in the second photo was sexy, but still classy. A black silk camisole above a thong with lace edges. Below the thong were sheer black, thigh high stockings. The whole outfit had cost almost a hundred dollars. I knew because I had bought it for her last Christmas. This photo was less than a year old and I hadn't taken it.
Ch. 03
I started reading.
Can you help me with my Daddy issues? And no, I don't mean Sugar Daddy.
I'm sure my father has long wanted to...you know...but he hasn't. Yet.
But I keep wondering how it would be.
Sometimes I think of Daddy as he is now, middle-aged, but still hot. Sometimes I think of him as the gorgeous young man I've seen in photos. I can even imagine a virile retiree still able to give Mom more action than she can handle - so of course, Daddy's Girl would be glad to help out.
So, no matter what age you are, if you're clean and meet the description, please send a photo and let's get together. I'm all alone for a long weekend, Fri-Sun, and would really love some intimate Daddy-Daughter time.
Below the profile paragraph was a field that said,
Current Status: Closing Soon.
I looked up and caught Frank's eye. "Daddy issues? What the fuck?"
"Look, that could be a good thing." He must have seen my eyebrows fly up to my hairline because he rushed on. "No, really, man. Some of those cheating wives I was talking about? They're not really unhappy with their husbands or looking to leave them, sometimes they just have a certain kink that they're not comfortable sharing with him. Maybe they want to try it with a woman or a black dude at least once."
"Or they have a daddy fantasy?" I said.
Frank just shrugged.
I looked back at the screen and continued reading. Then my throat locked up and I must have croaked or something, because Frank said, "You found the double shit."
Double shit indeed.
Daddy's family is from Greece and Italy, so he has that classic Mediterranean look.
His eyes are dark and his hair is dark and curly. He has a strong, straight nose, but a bit of a Roman bump is okay. If that's you, I look forward to a Daddy-Daughter date. And if you're in the 6-foot range with the build of a long-distance runner, it's going to be a very hot date.
"What. The. Actual. Fuck?"
"I know," replied Frank. "I gotta say, Matt, I thought you might be in on it, but that look on your face tells me not."
"Not a fucking clue, man. Not a fucking clue."
Frank and I were both totally confused because Maeve's dad, Sean, is a pale-skinned Irishman with rust-brown hair. The description she'd put on her profile obviously didn't match him. But it did match me.
