I Dont Know How This Happened

A normal husband wouldn't just sit there as a cocky college junior grabbed his wife's hair and roughly lowered her mouth to his rock hard cock.

A normal husband wouldn't have an erection, oozing with pre-cum, watching said fellatio take place.

A normal husband would not sit back as said college junior wrote words on his wife's body. Words like 'slut,' and 'whore.'

I don't have a normal husband.

It's hard to explain how things got like this, how my husband came to be a man whose sole erotic pursuit was watching his wife be degraded, and humiliated. I could point to lots of moments and say 'that, that was THE inflection point."

Before I begin describing my personal journey, I want to thank the board of directors of LOL, Ladies Of Love, for allowing me to speak to you tonite. I'm so honored to look out over this crowd of cuckolds, bulls, and the ladies who love them and see that we are finally coming out of the shadows.

This speech is an extended version of one I've given countless times as I've helped establish LOL chapters all over the country. I'm so grateful that this organization has allowed me to mentor so many couples as they explore their sexual fantasies and lifestyles. But because this is a special occasion, the 3rd annual national convention, I wanted to tell a more personal story, because it's so important for many of us to remember that when we started our journeys, we didn't have a vocabulary for where things were going and what we were doing. Many of us were scared, confused, and filled with guilt, even if that mix of negative emotions made us cum. It wasn't until we found each other that we've been able to throw off the shackles of society's expectations and embrace our true selves as actualized sexual beings.

As an aside, the organizers have asked me to remind everyone that, since this is a long speech with lots of sexual content, public sex IS allowed. We just want to remind people to move to the back if they feel the urge, and this is especially true for you young bulls and first timers, a reminder that consent is key. Yes, we know, under the rules of our organization that don't allow unaccompanied males, you've been brought here by a woman that will do anything you want. That doesn't mean you can stick your dick in any hole. You gotta ask first. Saying please helps, sometimes.

So here, goes. As many of you know, my name is Phyllis. I'm a slut, a whore, a cheating bitch who can't get enough. I understand this speech will be recorded, so for those listening later, let me descibe myself. I look like a mousier version of the British porn actress Lady Sonia. Big tits, a big ass, but narrowish hips. My hair is dirty blond and short. It's not super short - I can't put it in a pony tail, but i'm not one of those women who has a FBI agent's haircut, combed to the side with a hard part. It's long enough that a guy can get his hands in there, but short enough that i don't have to fuss too much.

In reality, my story is the result of boundaries being pushed, a little bit at a time, over a period of many months.

The seeds of my story stem from the subtle decline of sexual relations with my husband. Sometime in our late-30s, I realized that our sex lives had fallen by the wayside. We'd started out well. My husband, despite his pursuits now, started off as a good lover, well-endowed lover - perhaps obscenely so - with a good bit of stamina. We made love perhaps four times per week. While I'd certainly had friends who, in the early days of their relationships, were doing it more, the size of Edward's manhood made it difficult. I was frequently sore, but less so than his other girlfriends, who often limited sex to once per week. He'd been dumped a few times by girls that couldn't handle it. And on the flipside, my willingness made him all the more eager. And so, while my girlfriends complained about the declining frequency of sex with longterm partners just as they were beginning to enter their 'dirty thirties,' Edward and I were still going strong.

Then, all of the sudden, we weren't going strong. At first, I blamed our careers. He was working steadily to a partnership position at a local engineering firm, and I was busy juggling a job as a restaurant manager, while dabbling in costume jewelry for stage and film productions.

But one day I realized that it had been a couple weeks, and before that, a couple more. You get the picture. I decided that things needed to change. I was complaining to a friend. She had a two word response:

"Dirty talk."

It kicked off a whole conversation about fantasies and stuff like that.

It started off on the right track with Edward. I'd whisper in his ear little nothings about my desire to be bent over the dining room table. And it bled into scenarios: strangers in hotel rooms. Sex in public places where we could get caught. A flat tire on the side of the road.

Then the fantasies became more elaborate. It wasn't just a stranger in a hotel room. I was a whore, paid to do whatever some random guy wanted. I wasn't just having sex in public places, I was blowing two guys in the alley behind a bar. I didn't just have a flat tire, but I was a bit tipsy, and the tow truck driver blackmailed me, threatened to call the cops unless I did whatever he wanted. (Which inevitably ended up in blowjobs. With men, it's always blowjobs.)

And around this time, I started talking about a cocky young college kid working at my restaurant who flirted with me. He openly propositioned me. And soon, that kid started appearing in more and more in our dirty talk.

I won't bother to mention his real name. Let's just call him Bro. That's what he was, after all. A 6'4" college rower. He was 200 pounds of lean muscle, chased after relentlessly by sorority girls, cougars, milfs, and married office drones who had imbibed one many Appletinis after happy hour went a little overboard.

To be honest, I was flattered by the attention he paid me, and Bro became the focus of our fantasied.

Then one day, my husband said two words.

"Do it."

He wanted me to seduce Bro. I have to admit, I wasn't completely shocked. Our dirty talk had led to some mutual porn watching, and I'd noticed that a lot of the videos my husband watched fell firmly in the 'hotwife' category. But to be honest, I never considered the hotwife stuff real. Like, what man would let his wife fuck other guys?

And yeah, with a guy like Bro, I was more than a little curious, but I was definitely nervous about what this would do to our marriage.

I decided I was going to play. Just enough to provide a little fuel for my husband and I's fantasy life, but I wasn't going to fuck him.

I strategized a way to keep things under control. One night, I cut all the other servers when it got slow, giving Bro the late tables. That ensured that he and I were the only front of the house people around when it came time for him to settle his checks, but there were cooks, and dishwashers, and cleaning people around. My reasoning, I think, had a lot to do with the fear that we'd both be fired if word got around that we humped on the desk where the 60-year-old bookkeeper did her work.

We were in the restaurant's small little office when I kissed him. Now, one thing about this experience isn't just that I kissed him. I kissed him while my husband was waiting in the parking lot. You see, I don't drive. My husband, bless his heart, picked me up some nights when I didn't really want to take the train.

I have to admit, Bro was a little shocked at first, but he pressed. Groping my big tits and pinching my nipples through my blouse and suit jacket. He tried to take off my pants, but I wouldn't let him. But in the jostling for control of my belt, he guided my hands to his cock, maybe a little forcefully, which had sprung free from his pants.

No, it wasn't as big as my husband's. But it was on the big side of average, and thick. The kind of dick that lots of women describe as 'perfect,' because it's just big enough to stretch you out, but not so big that you have to worry about getting punched in the cervix. And frankly, my husband notwithstanding, lots of guys with bigger dicks think their size is enough. They skip foreplay, then pump hard and fast.

As soon as I got my hands around Bro's impressive unit, I knew I'd be thinking about it for a while.

Bro realized that I wasn't going to fuck him, so mid-kiss, and perhaps mid-stroke, he placed his hands on my shoulders and began to push down.

"No," I said. "My husband is outside."

"Then why did you start this?" he asked.

"It's something I wanted to do for a long time."

Outside in the car I told my husband what happened. I could see his enormous cock strain in his pants as he drove. I was so horny. I began stroking him, and putting his head in my mouth as he drove. I told him about my plan, how I only wanted a bit of a make-out session, only wanted to let him feel me up, how I wanted to remain in control, and how I was still truly nervous about fucking other men.

When I told him the part about Bro trying to push me to my knees so I could blow him, my husband got noticeably harder.

"What would you have done if he would have insisted?" Edward asked.

"I don't know," I said. "There isn't much I could do to stop him. He's so strong. And he's so fucking hot, I'm not sure I'd want to stop him."

"You would have taken him in your mouth?"

My dear husband. His breath grew raggedy at the thought, and he began to erupt. My hands covered in cum as we drove, just a few miles from my house.

To be honest, there were a lot of mixed emotions at this point. A panic to find some sort of napkin to wipe this goo off of my hands. Anger that my husband wasn't 25 anymore, and he wasn't going to get hard again tonite, and I wasn't going to get that massive dick in me. And disgust, maybe, in the very back of my mind, that the part of the story that pushed my husband over the edge wasn't the innocent flirting with a younger stud, but the part where the stud grew forceful. I put the thought out of my mind. Maybe my husband had cum because I'd been licking his cock and jerking him off for the better part of our car ride home.

Either way, I was determined to cum, and so when we got home, i pushed my husband onto the bed, and rode his face. It was something I'd never done before. In all our years of marriage, I'd never really taken the pleasure I wanted, on all fours, my ass high and my face low, Edward's hands on my ass as he faced upward and lifted himself toward my pussy. He lapped at my clit until I climaxed, moaning into the bed.

For the next week or so at work, I avoided Bro. I cut him early when business slowed to make sure we weren't alone again. Still, I could feel him leering at me, and in truth it turned me on to feel his lust. It was a good week at home, too. Edward asked about Bro every day, and it led to me getting pinned under his massive dick. I was a happy girl.

After about a week of ignoring him, I was in the walk-in fridge grabbing something for the bar when I heard the door open and close behind me. Soon enough, Bro was behind me, groping my tits and pressing himself in to me.

"That's something I've wanted to do for a long time," he whispered in my ear.

I half-heartedly tried to get away, but knew the risks of this scenario were pretty light. People were always coming into the walk-in, and I didn't think he'd push things too far.

"I'm your boss," I said.

"So what," he replied.

He pinched my nipples, hard. Where did he learn to do that? I wondered. It's not something that all women like, but i happen to be one of those women. As I moaned, he slipped a hand down my pants, and into my panties, past the clit and right to the folds of vagina.

One finger, stroking.

"Thirty seconds of getting felt up from behind has you totally wet," he said. "You may be my boss. But if I wanted to fuck you right now, I'd slide right in, I bet."

He removed his finger and brought it to my lips. I smelled my own lust. I turned my face away in disgust, but he had me cornered. He made me clean his finger.

That night at home, I again relayed a story to my husband.

"So he would't let you go until you licked his finger?"

"Yeah, I know. But it was like, I was kind of moaning, and my mouth was open. And I knew that that was what he wanted me to do, and I wanted to do what he wanted."

Again, I could see my husband's erection through the pajamas bottoms he had put on, and I got that uncomfortable feeling that my husband was more turned on by the Bro's forcefulness than anything else. But I put that feeling out of my head, in part because the little voice warning me that this path led to things I wasn't prepared to do, and because I was getting horny telling this story, and I decided I didn't want my husband's boner to go to waste.

I led him into the bedroom where I bent over, still fully clothed.

"What do you think he should have done to me?" I asked.

Edward came over and pulled me up straight, cupping my breasts in his hands. I could feel his cock against my ass cheeks and oh god I wanted it. I pulled my own pants down, and bent over again. Quickly, I felt two fingers inside me, spreading me. And then the fingers were gone and Edward buried himself full hilt into me. I shrieked at the sensation, the shock of it. He pumped once or twice to adjust his position, then buried it again, giving me time to feel the fullness of his manhood.

"Do you think he'd be gentle?" I asked. I was hoping for a good pounding, the kind that could leave me sore because his cock was so big, but as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt Edward's dick tense, and he flooded me with his cum.

OK. This was becoming a thing, but again I couldn't think about it as I was so aroused I thought my head would explode. I laid on my back and told my husband to get licking. At first he recoiled, afraid of the possibility that he'd lick a little cum, but he quickly changed his mind for reasons that are his alone.

******

Back at the restaurant, I began to feel boundaries getting pushed. If we happened to pass each other and nobody was looking, he'd slap my ass.

Or he'd come up behind me and whisper "I can't wait to see your lips wrapped around my dick," or "I bet you like to get your hair pulled when getting fucked doggy style."

Still, I kept him at bay. I took steps to make sure we never closed the restaurant alone. I tried not to give him any indication that I liked this attention, but I wasn't always successful. Sometimes, I'd let him corner me in the storage closet and I'd willingly grab his boner through his pants. Sometimes I'd bend over to pick something up when he was standing right behind me. Sometimes I'd be the one whispering in his ear "I have to cut you, because if you stayed, I don't think I could stop you from doing whatever you wanted."

In truth, I liked his attention very much, even if it carried with it an undercurrent of debasement. The reasons have a lot to do with my body image and how it affected my sexuality.

I was a chubby teenager, and didn't really lose the weight until after college. Consequently, I think I had developed an overly conservative dressing style - no cleavage, usually wore a blazer. I guess you'd say that I didn't get a lot of attention in my younger days. Now, I was incredibly flattered by any attention I got, and it had been that way for a while. My inexperience with male attention in my late teens and early 20s definitely led to more one night stands than I thought was proper before I met Edward. I was defenseless against male attention. Knowing what I know now, I'd have to say that my sexual encounters were kinda vanilla, even though my inexperience with saying no left me defenseless against men who could have taken advantage of me. Perhaps I was lucky I never met those sorts of men.

Still, I guess you could say that I've always had a vision of a conventional marriage, that is to say, monogamous. And while I was deeply troubled by the path that I had embarked on with Bro. I still hoped I could limit it just enough to keep Edward turned on, and to get bask in his lust. But there was another side of all this, one that I still have trouble articulating. Mixed into all this were feelings of genuine disgust at myself, because the entire situation was so arousing. Two men were beginning to treat me like an object in two different ways, almost like what I wanted didn't matter, and this was making me cum... hard.

***

It wasn't long before Bro and I ended up alone together. Another server called out, another asked to leave early. And there we were. When he followed me into the office to settle the night's checks, I could practically feel his eyes on my ass, and butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I did not know what would happen, but I knew that something would.

He had a grin on his face as I finished counting the money.

I had decided that I wasn't going to fuck him. But I felt like, after weeks of pursuing me, after I had teased him, I wasn't leaving the room until he was satisfied.

So, I rolled my chair over to him and simply said "We both know this is going to happen." And with that, I sunk to my knees and sucked him off.

Much to my surprise, he was a complete gentleman about it. He didn't pull my hair, or push my head down like all those times he promised to treat me like a whore. He moaned slightly, here and there, giving me clues as to what he liked. Midway through, he even lifted my mouth off his shaft and kissed me. It was so tender, I lost myself for a moment as he unbuttoned my blouse and pulled the cups of my bra down to free my boobs. He massaged them, pinching and stroking. For a hot minute, I thought he was going to stand me up to get fucked. I would not have said no. But after a minute he leaned back, and, with smirk on his face, he asked me to continue.

With my boobs hanging out, I went back to his dick.

"You don't have to go too deep," he said. "Little bit of hand, a little bit of mouth. Lots of spit."

I began pumping up and down on his shaft, feeling him twitch, hearing him moan as I hit the right spots. And then he stiffened.

"I'm going to cum," he said.

I found this basic show of courtesy incredibly relieving, after weeks of getting groped. But I was no stranger to swallowing, and so thats what I did.

When I was done, Bro lifted me up and undid my pants. He pulled them down a bit as he leaned my body against the desk. Then he started fingering me. Massaging my clit with his thumb as two fingers rubbed my g-spot. And with another hand he stroked my hair and pinched my nipples. And the eye contact! I felt like he was staring right into me, willing me to cum.

And that's what I did. My legs got weak, and my eyes closed, but Bro maintained the same cadence on my pussy as he moved closer to hold me.

After I caught my breath, Bro looked at me.

"Do you feel guilty?" he asked.

"What?"

"For cheating on your husband. I mean, no offense, but you don't seem like you step out much."

I didn't know exactly what to say. Yes. This felt like cheating, in a way that teasing him hadn't before. And it wasn't just the fact that I had gotten on my knees and performed a sex act on him. That's what my husband wanted me to do. What made me feel guilty is that Bro made it so good, like there was a moment where I had totally lost myself.

I looked down, a bit.

"It's what my husband wants," I said.

"Wow," he said.

"Now let me ask you a question. Why me? I mean, you can have lots of women. So why did you start flirting with me?"

"Oh, there are a lot of reasons. One, I love a challenge. Being able to have any woman makes it fun to pursue women that act like they don't want it. And two, I just got this sense about you. Hard to explain, but I've had a few women like you. They dressed like an extra on Downton Abbey, but once I got them in bed, they would do anything. Once you kissed me, I knew you were like that."