My Fiancee Taes an Older Man

This is a continuing fictional story about a man who has allowed his fiancée to have sex with another man. Part 5 ended with the fiancée revealing she and her lover are going to a luxury hotel for the weekend, but that her husband-to-be can come too... As their chauffeur. When she went to bed he found a text from her lover saying he really enjoyed getting her off in his car, in her driveway. She had concealed that fact from her fiancé. If you don't like stories where this happens, don't bother reading it. I do appreciate feedback, so do feel free to contact me especially with any requests or suggestions for future parts.

*

She came home from work on the Thursday evening in her now familiar, sexy suit and skirt combination. Her legs looked fantastic, as she stood cooking dinner. How I longed to fuck her again. To punish her for her behaviour. I knew she had lied to me. Yet still my balls ached to explode inside her. Her promise of a fantastic blow job the night before had not escaped my thoughts since the moment I awoke that morning.

"Go down on me," she instructed.

I kneeled between her legs and licked the inside of her bare legs. When I reached her groin I was shocked to discover she wasn't wearing any panties at all.

"There's a couple of things I didn't tell you last night." She pushed her pussy into my face and instinct dictated I licked her. "We parked outside for about fifteen minutes before I came in. You probably noticed how wet I was when I got in."

The text message I had read and deleted played on my mind, though still my hunger for such sweet lips elevated.

"He made me gush in his car. I didn't have an orgasm. I just gushed. The champagne in my system must've talked me into letting him. It was dark. No one was around. But the danger was such a turn-on, baby."

I withdrew my mouth from her cunt. "Why didn't you tell me this last night?" I could feel her body tense under my questioning. She was afraid.

"I... I'm not sure. I was tired and didn't want to get into it. I wasn't sure if you'd be angry."

I left the room, much of my disapproval false. I wasn't overly thrilled that she had pushed the boundaries in such close proximity to our neighbours. Far from it. But there was only so much denial I could pretend when every one of her actions drove me to arousal with erections akin to morning glory.

"Baby, please." She was almost in tears as she chased after me to the living room. "I couldn't get off with him. That's why I came inside and got it on with you. I needed an orgasm and I knew you could give me one."

I said nothing, hoping my erection was hidden by my hands in my pockets.

She kissed me. "Please forgive me, baby. I don't know why I feel so terrible. Your reaction... I didn't expect it."

My reaction was a lie. Her concealing of the act had stimulated my loins and her confession without pressure assured her true loyalty. Yet I was enjoying the switch of power. The degradation of her whorish ways. I knew she was feeling shame. Cheap. Worthless. It was perhaps the first time in years she had felt such emotions. If ever. Until that moment I had instilled pride in her sluttiness. Now I was looking at her with disdain.

The oven beeped and with reluctance she returned to the kitchen.

* * * * *

She barely touched her dinner, her eyes filling with tears and tissues a rare commodity for liquid from her body. Meanwhile, I devoured every last piece of chicken on my plate and helped finish hers. She crossed her legs and wiped a fresh set of tears. There had been nothing but silence between us for half an hour.

"I will call everything off with him right now, if that's what it takes, baby. All or nothing. I can't be involved with him and feel this guilt."

I took a tissue and cleaned my mouth and hands. "Excellent meal, darling."

"Baby, answer me. I never want to feel what I feel right now ever again. If you don't tell me to finish it or tell me you forgive me, I will make the decision for you."

I looked at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She walked over and found my cock in my jeans. "You're hard?" She sounded surprised, although the moment did not stop her from quickly unzipping my fly. "You bastard." She swallowed it whole and spoke not another word until she had me on the brink of an orgasm.

"Fuck!" I cried, coming hard under her expert wank. She threw a tissue over the head and I knew then that her defiance had returned.

She stood, hitched her skirt to her waist and stared me in the eye. "Don't you ever fucking dare play with me like that again. If you're angry, you can tell me. If you're feeling shame with yourself for not feeling angry because I've done something with him, talk to be about it openly and honestly. Or if you are too ashamed to talk about it, deal with it yourself. I fucking love you and the day you start faking your anger to hurt me, is the day this thing gets dangerous." She straddled me. "We'll not speak again about it, okay?"

I was about to answer her when she muffled my voice, shoving her pussy into my face.

"You asked me to have sex with him and to play on the humiliation factor. You've awakened something in my sexuality I didn't know existed, baby, and I am determined to explore it before I am a married woman. There's things you've done down the years and justified with the red-blooded male argument. Well, I'm a red-blooded female and I want to explore other cocks." The plural in her sentence ignited a world of suspicion I hadn't previously particularly considered.

She used me to bring herself to orgasm, then she took herself upstairs with her mobile phone. My imagination could only guess what she was doing.

* * * * *

We took it in turns to give each other oral sex again on the Friday night. Our so-called argument the previous evening was barely mentioned, but she did say one thing which struck me.

"I'm enjoying being with him and I know you're enjoying it too." She kissed me. "It's only been 13 days since he first fucked me while you were at the pub." Her hands caressed my chest. "I have no future with him, but I want this weekend to be memorable. I am going to be fucking him and I don't want you to ruin one second."

"I won't."

"Good boy."

"You have to let me fuck you too," I insisted.

Her eyebrows were raised. "Have to? After your tantrum yesterday, baby, I'm under no obligation to do anything with you." She sighed. "What's the longest you could go without having me before you'd stray?"

I couldn't answer.

"Be honest."

"I don't know."

She said nothing more on the subject and neither did I. It confused me. Unfortunately, I knew women. They never asked such a question for no reason. She was planning something. Whether it was a punishment, a test or whatever, I couldn't tell. But I had no doubt she was up to something.

* * * * *

We arrived at his house early on the Saturday morning. She was dressed in knee-high boots, a denim skirt and a white t-shirt with the digits 69 emblazoned on it. Her hair was in a pony-tail and she had given me a flash of a lacy black thong in the car. She had told me to touch her thighs and caress the outside of her pussy through the thong, but no more. She said she would explain the roles more thoroughly later, but that I was to behave exactly as if I had no problem with anything. I had hurt her, she said, and if I ruined any part of her weekend she would find me hard to forgive. I grinned, ever so slightly. She wasn't serious.

She kissed him in front of me in his hall, their tongues fearfully familiar. This was the first time I had witnessed them behave in this manner without the addition of alcohol.

"Did you bring the rings?" she asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"What rings?" I was not party to this information and being the odd one out frustrated me.

She walked over to me and brought her lips to mine. Then she stopped suddenly, an inch from me. She cocked her head to his. "This is just one last act before I become yours for the weekend, sweetie."

He smiled.

Her tongue probed my mouth. My cock was hard and my hands went round her waist, pulling her nearer. She continued the kiss and my fingers strayed to her backside, mauling her curves over the fabric of her denim jeans. The kiss was broken. "I'm such a slut for making out with the chauffeur, honey," she said, as if to him. "That's no why for a wife to behave, is it?"

"Indeed it is not," he answered, and pulled her away from me.

The roleplay was not lost upon me, but I was a little confused. "Are you two playing the husband and wife this weekend?"

"Playing?" she scorned. "Honey, give me your ring."

He pulled two rings from his pocket and kneeled before her, taking her left hand in his. I noticed for the first time that her engagement ring was no longer on her finger. It had definitely been there the night before. I could recall licking her lips as that particular finger helped massage her clit. "One ring for our engagement," he began, putting on the first, "and one ring for our wedding," following up with the final band.

She kissed him. "I'm going to love being your wife this weekend."

"And I'm going to love being your husband."

I didn't know where to look.

* * * * *

It was an hour and a half drive to the hotel. The newlyweds cavorted in the back seat throughout the journey, their tongues almost exclusively entwined. My eyes struggled to concentrate on the road. When we hit the motorway, she spread her legs for him. In the rear view mirror, I watched his fingers travel inside her thong, between her lips and deep into her pussy. I was rigid and rubbed myself for mild relief.

"Here we are," I announced, hoping she would regain some dignity as I drove his car up a long, winding path between huge trees to the hotel car park.

Lions sat astride huge steps which led to the front door. I suspected as chauffeur I would be required to carry their luggage for them.

"You have to wait here," he began, tapping me on my shoulder. I could smell her on his fingers. "The room has only been paid for a couple."

"We'll come back for you when the coast is clear," she said. "But right now it's our husband and wife time."

They held hands as they strolled from the car to the hotel. I watched them the whole way, my heart beating fast in my chest. I was aroused. This was erotic. But the danger of a whole new level to their games had me capitulating in fear at would happen next. I had played with fire when I feigned my anger. I wasn't faking now. Yet how could I say anything? What would I say? Stop now? I couldn't see any reaction, but ignorance. She was his so-called wife for the weekend and every aspect of her body language indicated she was there to enjoy playing the part.

* * * * *

An hour had passed since they entered the hotel. More couples had come and gone. Some went for walks, noticed me as they left, and saw me again when they returned. I was embarrassed by that. I called her number. It was switched off. I was humiliated it by that. I called him. It went straight to voicemail. I was furious.

* * * * *

She appeared at the hotel entrance in an outfit I had never seen her wear before. Such a beautiful cream dress, which elegantly fell to her knees. It was figure-hugging with a thick, black belt. She walked like a lady in cream high-heels towards the car. She was smiling from ear-to-ear. Two hours had passed.

She climbed into the passenger side. "There's a different receptionist on now. I think it'd be safe for you to come in now, driver."

"You were waiting two hours for the receptionist to change?" I demanded.

"Oh no, I had to unpack and pick out what to wear. We did a lot of shopping on Wednesday. I wanted to pick the right dress."

I was calming. "Okay, I understand." The smile on her face was enough to soothe anyone's anger.

She leaned into my ear and whispered. "Plus, my new husband fucked me in the shower. That took a good hour."

I nearly collapsed, saved only by the fact I was already sitting. She had opened the passenger door and was throwing her legs out before I could react.

"Come along now," she called. "I can't wait to show you the room."

I hurried behind her, my demeanour anything but her other half and the embarrassment on my face a picture for anyone willing to watch. She was a different person. A lady dressed up for derby day. Underneath, a slut. Yet I could recognise neither.

She led me along a long, luxurious corridor of antiques and paintings of beautiful Fermanagh countryside, wild horses and expensive yachts on a lake. We stopped at an elevator. She hit the button, my eyes traced his rings on her finger, and we waited. My breathing was heavy. What was I doing? What was she doing? This was unbelievable. I wondered if I should say something. The elevator arrived, empty, I followed her in.

The doors shut and she grabbed my crotch, kissing my cheek and lips. "Don't tell my husband, but I've been wanting you to fuck me for ages. Will you fuck me this weekend?"

I couldn't believe it. "Yes, yes of course," I said, my words anything but planned.

"Oh good, I need a younger man's cock. My husband's good, but he's so much older. He'd like to watch me with someone else, but I really want you to fuck me somewhere in this hotel behind his back. Can you do that?"

The elevator stopped at the relevant floor.

"Can you?" she said, squeezing my cock.

"Yes, yes, yes."

She released me as the doors opened. Her persona, her swagger, her entire demeanour became that of a classy wife again as she briskly walked out into the corridor, her hips swaying as I followed. She stopped outside a door, tapping it with her left hand. My eyes were again drawn to his rings on her wedding finger.

He opened the door. "Honey," he said, and kissed her on the lips. "Come on in. I see you brought company."

I entered the room behind them. It was quite spectacular. The five-stars were apparent immediately. Typically, I noticed the flat-screen television first, then the classic décor. The bed was huge, pillows stacked neatly over half of it. It obviously hadn't been slept in.

"That's a massive bed," I said, almost stammering.

"It's a super king size," he said, his tone friendly and his hand stretched out as if to suggest I have a seat on it.

She piped up. "There will be plenty of room for 3-in-a-bed in here."

I liked her use of the word 'will', indicating certainty rather than suggestion.

He stood beside her, his arm around her waist, and she leaning into him. It was clear I was in the company of a couple. I tried to tell myself I could either feel awkward about this or I could let myself go and enjoy an unreal experience over the weekend. She had told me she had no future with him. This was just a game. I needed to fuck her so much that if just playing this game earned me a private fuck with her again, then maybe it was worthwhile. Besides, I admitted inwardly, there would always be a part of me that enjoyed her with him, whether it was in front of my eyes or behind my back. The anger always subsided. The arousal rarely did.

"Driver," she started, "take your clothes off please."

"What?" I was sober. I had been naked in his company before, but only ever in the heat of the moment when we had swung in previous years or the night we had shared her.

"I've something I want you to wear." She looked at him. "And you too, my dear hubby." She kissed his lips. "You can try yours on later. But I want to see this young, cutey change in front of me."

"That's okay, dear," he told her.

"Go on then," she insisted to me. "Take your clothes off."

I was not alien to the fact she was not swearing in his company. She was so often foul-mouthed. Maybe it was coincidence, but my suspicions were that she was loving her role as the elegant wife of a rich gentleman.

"Don't make me punish you," she threatened.

I wished my cock was harder in my trousers. It was still semi-aroused from her elevator promises, but to undress in front of him was demeaning. Yet I found myself complying with her request.

"Mmmmmm," she said, as my top came off. "Sorry, honey." She kissed her so-called husband.

"It's okay, dear, you know I fantasise about seeing you with other men."

I kicked off my shoes, unbuckled my belt, undid my fly and let my trousers fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and stood in my boxers. Her eyes indicated they were to come off too.

"What is it you want me to wear?" I asked.

"First, you strip for me," she commanded.

I dug my fingers into the waistband of my boxer shorts.

"Go on." She winked at me, unseen by him.

I had to trust her. I pulled down my boxers and my cock was on show to my real-life fiancée and her real-life lover.

"Get his clothes, darling, would you?" she asked him.

The imaginary husband lifted my clothes from the floor and carried them to a suitcase in the corner of the room. He opened it, packed them in and shut the case.

"What the hell is going on here?" I asked.

"We're going to lunch and you're going to sit up here, naked, and think about us spending time together. When we come back the three of us are going to go for a swim. I'll provide you both with swimming trunks I picked out for you each. And you will both get to see me in my skimpy, new bikini."

My cock flinched at the prospect, and she noticed. "When can I eat?"

"You can order room service, on me," he said.

My eyes scouted the room for any of his discarded clothes. I couldn't see any. "But I'll be naked."

He and her joined hands. "We won't be long, ba-." She cut herself off, when so tantalisingly close to breaking character. Her apology was a long, drawn out entwining of their tongues where she demonstrated who in the room mattered most in that moment.

* * * * *

I investigated the room in their absence. There were a total of 3 suitcases, all locked with a 4-digit combination lock. The wardrobes contained only her clothes, none of them anything I had seen before. I surmised his clothes were locked away. The drawers contained no underwear, his or hers. She had hidden her new lingerie, knowing fine rightly I would snoop.

I entered the bathroom and froze. On the floor in a heap was her boots, her denim skirt, her lacy thong and that 69 t-shirt. This was where she told me he had fucked her. There was no evidence to suggest otherwise.

I sat on the toilet and imagined it. Despite all my doubts and all my growing regret, my cock hardened. I picked up her lacy thong and smelt the scent of her arousal.

I wrapped it around my cock and wanked myself hard, my eyes drifting to the shower for clues of what way he had taken her. It felt good to relieve all my pent-up frustration, especially with her knickers in play.

I looked to the mirror and noticed distinctive hand prints. All I could see in my head was him fucking her over that basin from behind.

I heard the door handle to the hotel room and threw her thong to the floor. The bathroom door was closed, thankfully buying me a few seconds.

She called my name and I reluctantly answered that I was in the bathroom.

"Wait here," she began, "I'll get him." She pushed open the bathroom door, already speaking to me before she could see my blatant erection. "We missed lunch... Oh." She looked back out of the room, then back to me, and pushed the door over, but not shut. "You're a bad boy," she whispered. "I like bad boys." She pulled up her dress and revealed a newly shaven, bald pussy, unlike its appearance earlier in the car.

I was in absolute shock and, somehow, confused fear at his nearby presence when she put one leg over me and lowered her pussy onto my cock. I was inside her again at last. She put a painted red fingernail over my mouth and for just a few, sweet seconds gyrated up and down on my cock. I fucked her back, dying to cum in her.