My Hot Wife The Transition

The usual disclaimers apply: if you are negatively triggered by themes including adultery, cuckolding, infidelity, cheating, hot wives, revenge and retribution sex, or related topics, hit the back button now.

This has been a narrative long in the works; hard to write, filled with difficult memories, connected to intense, conflicting emotions. My wife, KK and I have long history together, more than 40-years of marriage, nearly 50-years from the time we started dating. Both of us experienced numerous infidelities, from opportunistic one-night stand sexual encounters, to "traditional" affairs interweaving sex, emotional attachment, even financial entanglement.

Between our "old life" and the start of our hot wife adventures, there was a transitional time. This narrative documents the transition from a tumultuous relationship riddled with cheating and infidelity, to our current, stable relationship. The transition from cheating and sexual secrets to an open, supportive approach that indulges both my wife, and my sexual interests has been enlightening and rewarding for both of us.

Probably in honesty and fairness, the true catalyst for our current hot wife lifestyle combines two big things: KK was never happy with monogamy, and I was never able to resist pursuit of sex with women I was attracted to.

The last affair I engaged in was complex, blending sex, depravity, addiction, emotion. It was the trigger for transition into the hot wife lifestyle we now lead.

The affair was devastating, nearly resulting in the complete destruction of my marital relationship with KK. I had become entangled with a much younger women, 18-years my junior. It was an affair that blended emotional entanglement, an almost insurmountable sexual addiction, as well as financial complications. My affair partner, Beverly (Bev for short) pushed every "button" I had, some I wasn't even aware of. Even after trying to end the affair, I could not let go of the amazing sex.

Toward the very end of the affair, as KK and I were trying to reconcile, I still suffered back-sliding events, indulging in sex with Bev. Frequently, after going into what amounted to withdrawal, I'd end up in a 'lost night' with Bev, furtively fucking my brains out with her, until guilt or terror overcame my lust. Then I'd make up some excuse to part company, and go home.

On one of those 'lost nights' I got home around midnight after a desperate, physical, emotional round with Bev. I was mentally and physically exhausted. While I was off-the-air, cavorting with Bev, KK noted my unexplained absence - calling, texting, all of which I ignored. I later discovered KK even tried to track me down, 'hunting,' hoping to catch me with Bev.

After arriving home, noting KK's car was in the garage, I expected to either find her waiting up, angry, or better yet, asleep. Neither was the case; KK wasn't home - there was no note, no nothing. I sent a text, waiting up maybe 30-minutes before I felt like I had to lie down and get some rest.

I recall a brief awakening around 2:00am, finding myself alone in bed. Just before 3:00am, there was some commotion, a dog barking, the sound of the entry door opening and closing, then the distinct sound of heels clicking on the tile floor.

I waited, lying in bed, feigning sleep to see what was going on. I caught a glimpse of KK as she came through the master bedroom doorway. The hallway lighting was sufficient to give me a reasonable view; KK was dressed in club-wear, a leather skirt, white silk top, and heels.

I kept on with my ruse, pretending to be dead to the world, asleep. KK started talking - at first I thought she was talking aloud to herself.

"When you called to tell me you were going to be late, I decided something. I went looking for you and that nasty little bitch. Lucky for both of you I couldn't track your sorry asses down. So I went and got myself fucked. Not that you care... since you were out fucking your dirty little whore!"

My heart was pounding - I was uncertain as to what might happen next. While KK's speech was a little off, slurred, perhaps from drinking, she was very matter of fact - "...I went and got myself fucked."

With racing thoughts, fixated on "...I went and got myself fucked," I felt like I was in shock.

Despite the clarity that KK's monolog was directed at me, one tactic was continuing my ruse of being sound asleep, dead to the world, as opposed to engaging KK in conversation. Almost incongruently, my cock was rock-hard, as I obsessed on KK's comment, "...went and got myself fucked."

KK continued, her slurred speech a clue - I concluded she'd been drinking; "Yes baby, well and truly fucked... such a good, hot, nasty fucking... he's coming over tomorrow, to fuck me some more, since you don't seem to want to..."

I continued feigning sleep, wondering where this was going, with a painful, raging erection I tried to conceal by rolling over. KK continued her monolog; "I went for a drink after I couldn't find you and your dirty little whore. I met a nice man at Oliver's (a local lounge), and well, one thing led to another, I took him to my car and we fucked."

I was reeling. KK's matter-of-fact, "...took him to my car and we fucked" was deliberate, clear, and cutting. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. In the moment, I was denying the possibility, trying to reconcile KK's disclosure as some sort of emotional sadism, a lie. She couldn't possibly have gone and gotten herself fucked in her car. It just seemed inconceivable.

Unexpectedly, KK stripped the sheet off of me, exclaiming, "I knew you were awake, you sorry bastard! Why try faking being asleep you pussy? Look at that hard dick... why is it so hard? It's all twitching and throbbing... what made it all hard? Me getting fucked? Is that why your weenie is so hard?"

My head felt like it was spinning. I couldn't really believe what I was hearing, what KK was saying. On one hand, I considered it was all just lies, that KK was bullshitting me, trying to get me jealous, or bait me into a fight. On the other hand, the possibility it was real, that she'd gotten herself fucked was mind-boggling.

KK was on the bed, positioned at my side, on her knees. She said, "You wanna fuck me? Or is that little bitch the only thing that gets you going?"

KK hiked up the leather skirt over her hips. She was wearing stockings and garters, but no panties. Without another word, KK mounted me, squatting on my cock. I penetrated her with no effort, no friction - my cock slid into her pussy; KK was already wet! Was my wife's pussy soaking wet, gaping, as a consequence of a stranger's cock, slathered inside with his cum?

I lasted maybe ten strokes, before unloading in KK's pussy. I'd completely failed to satisfy her. Without any warning, KK dismounted me, squatting squarely over my face, mashing her jizz-filled pussy onto my nose and mouth. KK started grinding away. I managed to deliver an orgasm for KK, despite the feeling that she was going to suffocate me in the process.

It was disgusting - the taste, the smell, the almost grotesque slimy mess oozing from my wife. I felt disgusted with myself, but powerless to stop her. I couldn't tell if the gunk oozing from KK's gaping twat was my own, or a blend of some stranger's cum intermixed with mine. I fought off waves of nausea, holding back the urge to vomit, feeling disgusted, humiliated, outraged, but still incongruently aroused.

When she was done, KK climbed off the bed and said, "Well, at least you're good for something!" She turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I heard the lock click, so despite the urge to follow her, I stayed in bed, flaccid, my face covered in spunk.

I heard the shower running, then indistinct sounds, before KK came back to bed. She was wearing one of her oversized sleep T-shirts, towel around her hair, smelling of soap and water. I was unsure what to say, what to do, feeling paralyzed - a combination of fear, fascination, lust, jealousy, and uncertainty were my dominant emotions.

KK laid down beside me, then said, "You realize I'm going to fuck other men now. You made me do it. You wanted me to do it anyway. You left me no choice. So just enjoy your dirty little whore, and we'll continue the charade that everything's just fucking perfect. Nighty-night you fucking bastard!"

I lay there in silence. I could not sleep. KK drifted off, her breath sounds heavy, I suppose from having been drinking. At one point I was uncontrollably erect, thinking about what was transpiring, and I made myself cum - stroking, imagining what she might've been up to a few short hours before, thinking about her statement, "...he's coming over tomorrow, to fuck me some more..."

As my mind raced, a vortex of confusing, conflicting thoughts, I wanted to believe it wasn't true - on the one hand, it was plausible that it was all just a lie, KK taunting me, tormenting me, using a tale of sexual retribution to punish me for backsliding with Bev. On the other hand, the possibility that it was real, that KK had given herself to another man, used him for pleasure was excruciatingly erotic. I knew it was possible - given that KK had stepped out before, her most recent affair had ended just two years ago. Somehow this seemed different. It seemed terrifying - KK's matter-of-fact tone, her open admission, her deliberateness all felt like a gut-punch of hard reality.

At daybreak, I was still awake, drowsy, foggy, but awake. I got up to make coffee, feeling anxious and stressed out. About a half-hour later, KK appeared in the breakfast nook. She demanded, "Pour me some coffee, and I'd like eggs and toast. Get to it!"

I balked at KK ordering me about, asking, "Would you like to talk about it?"

KK's response was intense; "No. After you make my breakfast, you can go fuck yourself. You better tell that little whore of yours to sleep lightly. I'm going to take care of her, you know. I'm fucking fed up with you, with her, and your bullshit. Time to put a stop to the nonsense..."

KK was simmering, clearly angry, on the verge of irrational behavior. I tried another track, asking, "What's gotten you so upset baby? I'm doing the best I can."

I got an icy stare, then KK's expression wrinkled to a snarl; "The best you can? Really? Fucking that dirty little cunt after you promised me you broke it off? That's the best you can fucking do you pathetic bastard? Fuck you. Fuck her. I should go find that stupid little slut and gut her like a fish... make you watch... fucking cut her nasty twat out and feed it to her..."

KK's intense jealousy was surfaced, I didn't want to press the issue - I did as KK'd demanded, poured her a mug of coffee, started a fresh pot, then got to work on eggs and toast.

Once she'd eaten, KK's mood changed slightly. She said, "I've got company coming at 2:00pm. You can either leave the house, or you can stay in your study until I text you. I don't want any lip or interference. Do you understand?"

I tried objecting, getting maybe two stumbling words in before KK emphatically said, "Shut the fuck up. I'll do as I please - as I please is some hot fucking. Remember, this is your fault, your doing. And no, fuck you very much, you are not invited. Now clean this shit up. I'm going to go relax, take a long hot bath, and get ready for my guest. I want you gone, or in your study by 1:45pm sharp."

The unfolding events were shocking. Sure, for decades I'd pillow-talked KK along the endless variation of fantasies about fucking other men. This particular situation was not included in any of those fantasy scenarios.

KK got up from the table, silent, leaving me standing in the kitchen. As I tidied things up, my phone rang. It was a call from an associate, inquiring as to where KK and I were, if everything was OK, as we'd missed a morning coffee session for planning an upcoming holiday party. I glanced at the time, feeling stupid and embarrassed; indeed we'd missed the social obligation. I made excuses then ended the call.

My anxiety level was overwhelming. On top of all of it, I got series of texts/sexts from my Bev, teasing me, begging me to come over for sex. Given the threat level, I invented some excuses to say no, despite the almost overpowering desire to go and fuck away my cares.

Time passed achingly slowly that morning. I knew if I left the house exactly where I'd end up, what I'd be doing - thoughts of banging Bev into oblivion had me turgid, but it felt hollow, terrifying and empty all at the same time. I knew if I stayed home, I'd be overcome with angst and curiosity - the thought of being confined to the study, in my own home, while KK was banging some stranger was simultaneously erotic, and anger-producing. In fact, it was outrageous. I felt hot all over, flushed with waves of rage, thoughts of violence.

Each tick of the clock brought an increase in my anxiety. Unable to concentrate, overwhelmed by conflicting thoughts and emotions, there was no obvious plan of action, no clarity on how to respond to the situation at hand.

The time crawled by. I still hadn't showered, or seen KK since breakfast. At 1:40pm, resigned to what I perceived as the lesser worse fate, I went to my study. That room has glazed French doors, with shutters on the interior side. I left the shutters open, vanes partly angled, thinking I might catch a glimpse of whomever KK's "date" was.

At 1:45pm, KK, without knocking, opened the study door. She was completely nude, save for a pair of high-heeled 'fuck me' pumps. I stared at her, taking in the details; her hair was down, combed out, her make-up was on, her lips a pouty, taunting bright red. KK looked sexy hot, my cock was twitching just looking at her. KK pulled down both shutter rods, closing the vanes, turned, glaring at me, and said, "I'll text you when you can come out. Be a dear and don't cause trouble, or I'll go hunt that little cunt down right now." KK turned, closed the door, her heels clicking against the tile as she strutted off.

That quarter hour passed glacially. I was anxious, terrified, hard as rock (the sight of my angry naked wife in fuck-me heels, prepared to bang some dude was extraordinary...), and uncertain. Still, none of this was as I'd ever envisioned, not even close. The emotional conflict of being so aroused, while simultaneously nearly overcome with jealousy, anger, and uncertainty was overwhelming.

I kept expecting the bell to ring, or a knock at the door, or something - but there was nothing. An hour passed, excruciating, agonizingly slow, but no visitor appeared. I began having doubts, thinking maybe it was all some kind of ruse, a revenge-based means of torment for my transgressions.

Thirty more minutes passed. I couldn't take it any longer. As quietly as I could, I got up from my recliner, intending to go look around to see if I could sort out what was happening. When I carefully pulled the door open, I heard the distinct crash of breaking glass...

It seems KK had booby-trapped the door, by balancing a wine goblet across the handles. When I pulled the door open, the glass crashed to the entry hall floor, shattering into hundreds of pieces... I knew I was screwed.

Avoiding the broken glass, I peeked out the entry door side-light. Looking around the curve of the front drive, I could see the fender of a strange vehicle street side, but that was all. I was on pins and needles, expecting an outraged KK to appear at any second, given I'd violated my "confinement" to the study, yet my curiosity was overwhelming.

I made my way to our bedroom door, gingerly testing it with a slight turn on the knob. It was locked. I could hear the sounds of passionate sex, even without pressing my ear to the door! KK was fucking a stranger in our own bed... in my house, our house!

I backed away, feeling like I was on fire, my skin hot, burning, my head pounding. KK was in our bed, fucking some stranger. I was locked out, banished. This was nothing like what I'd imagined or fantasized.

In all the years of pillow-talk, fantasy and imagination, nothing like this had ever come to mind - my carefully orchestrated scenarios of KK getting fucked had always included me, at least being present to watch, most often to participate. I was locked out of my own bedroom, while KK was banging away with some dude...

I gingerly tried the door again, confirming it was locked. I put my ear against it, hearing KK's distinct moans, and occasional vocalizations, "Oh my God! Fuck me! Do it baby, do it! Fuck my pussy! Fuck that pussy baby!"

I found myself partially erect, simultaneously aroused but sickened at the realization of what was going on. I kept listening to the action; sounds of the bed frame creaking and rocking, groans, moans, KK's loud verbalizations - "Do me baby! Fuck me with that big hard cock! I want it inside me, put it in me! Cum baby, cum, oh God cum in me!"

At that point, I ejaculated spontaneously, splooge running down my thigh, my balls feeling like they'd been drained dry. It was humiliating, self-degrading, I'd cum without a touch, just from the sounds of my slut of a wife verbalizing the pleasure she was taking from a strange man in our marital bed. My knees were weak, I felt wobbly, off-balance, disoriented, like I might collapse. It took minutes for me to regain some semblance of the situation.

I was thinking about how it was I'd avoided hearing KK's "date" come in. It occurred to me that one path was via the garage. I quietly went and checked, finding the lights out, the garage entry door locked. The second possibility was that "Mr. Fucker" had been let in through the garden gate at the side of the house.

It was a risk, but I snuck outside to assess. The gate was closed, but unlocked. I cracked the gate, looking into the garden, seeing the coast was clear. I snuck down the path, intending, hoping to get a glance of whatever was going on with KK, in our bedroom through the garden-side windows. She'd thwarted me by both closing the shades, and pulling the draperies... I quietly snuck back inside, relieved that I hadn't inadvertently locked myself out of the house. I found a dustpan and broom, then hastily cleaned up the broken glass from KK's booby trap. Of course there was no way to "reset it" - I knew that I was caught red-handed, having broken out of exile, my own doing.

I stayed in my study, anxiety level off the chart, waiting for either a text, or for KK to burst in, expecting her worst for the transgression of violating my "confinement."

Finally, a little after 4:00pm, I got a text from KK, or more appropriately, a sext - of my wife splayed out on our bed, legs wide open, heels dug into the sheet, a stream of white, creamy cum running out of her gaping pussy. It was obvious whoever had been fucking KK took the photo using her phone. I felt my cock spasming, as I spontaneously ejaculated in my shorts at the sight of the photo.

I felt dizzy, slumped forward, banging my head on the door frame as I was stumbling around the study. Another text followed, "I'm done. You can come out... again."

I got my bearings, heading straight to our bedroom. The door was still closed, but no longer locked. I entered, finding KK pretty much in the same position as the shot in her sext; completely naked, her legs open, playing with her cum-filled pussy!

KK's gaping pussy looked more like a wound, pink-red, oozing; even from the foot of the bed, I could see inside her open hole, like she'd just delivered a softball through it.

The message was not subtle - KK was flaunting her fresh-fucked condition, her display a garish, whorish signal that she had just enjoyed a hot fuck session - with another man...

KK said, "Run me a bath, then get the fuck out."

I was feeling anger, and hesitated. KK said, "Are you fucking deaf? Run me a bath, then get the fuck out of here!"