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.
