Paula An Unfaithful Wife

I hear heels clattering on the doorstep, a key in the lock, and footsteps in the kitchen. I switch off the TV and go through, noting on the clock in the hall, that it's past 2am.

My wife is pouring herself a drink. "Well?" I ask, in mock-authoritarian tones.

She turns around, auburn hair dishevelled, red mini-dress strap hanging off one shoulder, and a small ladder in her stocking. Her head is bowed, and she's biting her lip in contrition. She looks up at me with "I did it again..."

* * *

I remember the first time, and how quickly it came. We had been having problems with our marriage; both in our late 30's, things were no longer exciting, finally coming to a head with a massive argument. We talked for days. To cut a long story short, the eventual outcome was that we agreed we would abandon our inhibitions in the bedroom, live out our fantasies to the limit. She was so obliging, I still blush at the thought of it. The way she accommodated my desires and fantasies was breathtaking, and even some three years later, I can still close my eyes and picture the look on her face the first time she wore a strap-on dildo.

I also told her I would do absolutely anything for her, imagining that she would come up with some mild, benign fantasy involving dressing up or handcuffs.

How wrong I would be.

It seems she did fantasize after all, she just hadn't admitted to herself that it was important, or indeed possible. But, as we lay on the bed some months later, she started to tell me her thoughts.

She was dressed in a black wonderbra and panties, propped up on one elbow, smoking a cigarette and stroking the underside of my cock with a painted fingernail. In a kind of conspiring tone, she said "I've been thinking a lot lately, about what you said. Maybe there is something I'd like... I mean, really like!"

"Oh, yeah?" I said, interested. I just love to hear her talk like this.

"Not sure if you'd like it, though," she said, taking a drag of her cigarette.

I sat up. "Tell me."

She sat up too, knees pulled up, and took a deep breath. She looked me in the eye.

"Weeell... I want to be fucked by other men."

"W- what? What d'you mean?" I managed to stammer.

She instantly became defensive, and turned her back to me. "I knew you'd react like this."

I put a hand on her shoulder and moved closer, kissing her neck, and putting an arm around her waist. I realised I was becoming aroused.

"Sorry, love. I didn't mean to sound like that. Tell me more."

She turned around, and I realised she was aroused as well. Her lips were parted, her cheeks flushed and her pupils dilated as she started to talk.

"You know I like you to vibe me when I suck you, don't you? You must know what I'm thinking about..."

We were close to each other by this point, and I could taste the fresh smoke on her breath. I pulled her towards me and kissed her, and was surprised by the ferocity of her response. The beating of her heart, also, was impossible to ignore. We French kissed frantically, fingering each other. "I know you like the way I look when you fuck me... (kiss).. You must think about it... (kiss).. me with two guys... (kiss).. fucking me at both ends..."

My arousal was now absolute, as was usually the case when her language descended to the gutter. Fairly soon we had become our usual (post-argument) mutual admiration society, working each other up to a shattering series of orgasms, assisted by two identical & very large black dildos.

For the next few weeks, it was obvious she was thinking of little else, and the subject pervaded our lovemaking. "come on," she panted as she rode me, her tight anus clamped around my shaft. "I know you like me as a slut, smoking in bright red lipstick with my titties hanging out. I know you like other guys looking at me. I want their cocks, as well..."

She'd save pictures on our computer where she knew I'd find them; always a woman would be getting fucked by two or more men, usually gazing at the camera with an enormous black cock in her mouth. Subtle it wasn't. I began to suspect she was very serious about this.

A week or so later, she returned from a night out with her friends, and I noticed she was quiet and quite sober. She also got into the shower before bed, which was unusual because she knows I adore the way she smells and tastes after a night out. I love to smell cigarette smoke in her hair, stale perfume, red wine and not a little perspiration on her from a night's dancing in a club. It all adds to the heady cocktail of sex that engulfs me as she sits on the bed & spreads her legs for my willing tongue. On this occasion, she just told me she was really tired, mumbling something about taxis, and went more or less straight to sleep after a few tender kisses.

She was quiet and irritable for days after, until I challenged her in the kitchen, with "look Paula, what's the matter?"

Immediately, her lip started to twitch and she broke down, hugging me tightly and sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm so, so sorry," was all she could say.

It transpired that she'd been out in a nice, black, low-cut top (she likes to wear a white lacy bra underneath, and push out her chest so it shows through), and as usual, she'd been winding guys up, clomping around on her heels, showing off her stocking tops, that kind of thing. This time, however, she'd had a few too many cocktails & had taken it a bit further, necking with a guy in an alley. He was quite insistent, she said, and before she knew it, she'd been on her knees sucking him, sobering up as his cum splashed onto her shoulder and sleeve. She had to clean up in the pub toilets, and since then she had been racked with guilt at what she's done.

I wasn't really surprised, as I'd seen how she could flirt outrageously. What did surprise me, however, was that following the initial (and expected) pangs of hurt & jealousy, I was starting to feel aroused, and as I pulled her towards me, still crying, I became aware of the swell of her breasts and the colour in her parted lips, and started to imagine her in that alley, looking just a little uncomfortable, as this guy cajoled his way into her mouth.

I didn't have to work that day, so I led her upstairs, and ran a hot bath. I decided she needed to be pampered, which is exactly what I did, scrubbing her back as we bathed together. She eventually started to relax, lying on my chest with a glass of wine. From behind, I nibbled at her neck and earlobe. "I love you so much, Paula. I fucking love you so much. You're so gorgeous, and sexy..."

I made it quite clear that what she had done had been enormously erotic. "Just be careful in future, eh?" I said, tenderly. "Maybe I should be nearby, next time..."

She gasped, and turned round, almost spilling her drink, and started to shower me with kisses. "Oh, darling, would you do that for me? Watch me do it? Oh, my god, fuck me now..."

She turned over onto her knees, and grasped my cock, pulling me towards her. Water splashed over the sides of the bath as I shafted her, once again that image in my head. "Talk to me..."

She looked back over her shoulder at me, almost sneering. "I'll be leaning on a wall, no knickers, with my skirt up while some guy I've never met is fucking me from behind, and you'll be watching me from the shadows, watching him do me."

I came almost immediately, as she squealed and moaned through her own orgasm. At this point, it became apparent to me that I wanted this as much as she did. I wanted my wife to be a slut, and not just for me.

We talked for weeks about it, getting more and more excited, working out little details. We agreed on most points; for instance, we wouldn't accept a watered down version, it had to be all the way. We didn't want any fumbling with condoms, and anyway, we both wanted her to take spunk, so she started taking birth-control pills straight away. We would monitor her for social diseases, and to minimise the risk of HIV she would go for married men, but that was it. Unprotected, penetrative, ejaculative casual sex in an alley, while her husband watched.

The first time was almost textbook, and I can remember it as clear as day. She's a tall girl, and in heels she's approaching 6', so with a short, pleated skirt, black stockings, a plunging halter-neck top and too much makeup, she's difficult to miss. We entered the bar, a notorious pick-up venue, separately, and within a few minutes she was chatting to a guy at the bar, flirting in her usual way. I kept a safe distance so I wouldn't be seen. They sat down at a table at the opposite end of the bar from me, the guy obviously plying her with drinks, which she accepted readily. At one point, I felt a stab of sadness as he took her hand, and she leaned towards him, her boobs spilling forwards and her glossy red lips parting for a kiss.

After what seemed like an eternity, he stood up, leading her towards the door, and she looked over to me with an urgent look. She seemed to relax a little as I left the bar, a short way behind them. I settled into the shadows of a warehouse doorway, just 20-30 yards away, as he started to kiss at her neck. She looked over towards me, unsmiling, and lit a cigarette, her back against the wall. She returned his kisses for a while, dropped down, unzipped his flies and released his erect cock.

My initial shame and jealousy gave way to lust and admiration, at the sight of this porn star my wife had become. For my benefit, she said "Ooh, you're big... bigger than my husband," before taking him into her mouth, and sucking. She couldn't resist looking at me, and winking. I felt precum leak from my cock.

She blew him enthusiastically for several minutes, and he started to moan as if on the verge of orgasm, but she disengaged and stood up. Draping her arms over his shoulders, I heard her ask "do you want to fuck me?" He nodded an assent, and reached into his back pocket for a condom. "Put that away," she said, then, louder, in my direction "cum inside me..."

There was a wheelie bin in the alley, and she made use of this; folding her arms across the top, she could look directly into my eyes in the doorway where I hid, knowing I was watching in awe. The guy couldn't get his cock into her quickly enough, and her breasts jiggled in the halter top as he banged her. She looked straight at me, letting her cigarette dangle from her lips the whole time, knowing this would turn me on even more, if this were possible. As the guy's orgasm started to arrive, for real this time, she started to encourage him, mainly for my benefit. "That's it, baby, fuck me all the way. Pump it into Paula." It was obvious she wanted him to remember her name.

As the guy moaned and started to cum, she visibly shifted her feet further apart and lifted her bum to accept as much spunk as deeply as possible. She took a huge drag, exhaling in my direction and smiling "oh, yeah," as the guy shot his cum up her.

After he'd withdrawn, she flicked the butt of her cigarette towards me and hitched down her skirt as he leaned on the wall, breathing heavily. "You better go that way- I'm meeting my husband soon..." she said, composing herself, applying a fresh coat of lipstick and primping her hair. The guy disappeared, and she strutted towards me proudly as I emerged, giggling at my obvious wide-eyed speechlessness. We had planned to have a drink and talk about it, but I couldn't wait that long. I took her by the hand, with a "c'mon..." and led her around the corner where I had parked our car. I couldn't believe how turned on I was, and we barely had time to close the car doors before lust overcame us, and we dived at each other, kissing fondling & biting. "Oh my god, Paula," I said, reaching between her stocking tops to feel a stranger's still-warm spunk leaking from my wife's vagina. "You fucking gorgeous slut. You sensational fucking bitch."

She smiled nervously at me, a finger between her teeth. "Am I a bad girl?"

"I think you know the answer to that one, you fucking cumslut!"

"Well, there's plenty more where that came from! You're going to see your wife fucked senseless... Now, take me home and show me how much you adore me.."

I drove. "Did you enjoy that? His cock looked quite big to me..."

She turned round to face me and paused. "Oh, yeah. And he was shunting it right up me. It was fantastic. We better hope those pills work, or I'm pregnant, for sure..."

* * *

Over the coming months, things progressed. I watched her pick up men in the same bar; fucking a black guy one week, sucking off two at once the next. She was an absolute cock whore in that alley, totally obsessed. She just couldn't get enough. And neither could I. Friends dropped hints to me that her behaviour was somewhat risqué, but stopped short of telling me she was gaining a slutty reputation. I knew already, and revelled in it. I doubt they could ever understand how good it made both of us feel.

She had gained so much confidence, that one night, as we made love, she said "you know, I think I'll be OK now. You don't have to be there, every time, if you don't want to be..."

I felt those pangs again, as I realised she wanted to take it even further.

"It's just that, well, I met this guy at work, and he wants to take me out. I think I'd like to spend the night with him..."

An incredible sadness spread over me; she wanted to give herself completely, albeit just for a night, like a teenage girl in love. We talked for ages, and I found it difficult to conceal my hurt and jealousy. Showering me with kisses, she told me I was the only one she'd ever loved, and she would never, ever leave me, but she needed this aspect of her life now. I agreed with her, that it had enriched our relationship completely, to the degree that I could barely look at her without an aching, physical desire. I consented, and she showed her gratitude by applying a thick coat of lipstick, and wanking me off onto her mouth while talking obscenities, one of my favourite bedroom treats.

It was such a bittersweet pleasure, watching her get ready for her date with him; I sat in a chair in the bedroom while she dried & styled her hair, put on her eye shadow, thick mascara and expensive Dior lipstick in a deep orangey red. She put on her earrings & diamond necklace, followed by her best lingerie- plum red lacy balconette bra and French knickers from Aubade, finished off by sheer patterned hold-ups and heels.

She lit a cigarette and turned round to me, a hand on one hip. "There, what d'you think?"

I couldn't find the words; I just wanted to hold her, and as I put my arms around her, she giggled, and whispered "careful, don't spoil my paint," as she gave me a tiny kiss on the lips, letting me savour the gorgeous scent of her lipstick and her wonderful Clinique eau de parfum. She put on her green floral-pattern summer dress.

I couldn't stop myself crying as she drove away; to see her putting so much care into getting ready for someone else was heartbreaking, but so exceptionally erotic. She had told me she may be back tonight, but we both new she would be fucking all night.

I slept fitfully, waking ever couple of hours, masturbating at the thought of her, completely lost in love in that guy's bed. I thought again of that first time; when we'd got home, we were both so completely aroused, that we'd got into a sixty-nine position on the bed, and I'd licked all her lover's hot cum out of her while she'd gorged herself on my own spurting tool. I imagined her giggling and swaying as he pawed her in his bedroom, stepping out of those expensive pants and getting between the sheets.

The next morning, she arrived back at about 11 o'clock, dropping her bag in the hall, where we kissed uncontrollably. Her breath tasted almost comically strongly of semen. "Sorry I'm so late..."

"So, it was a success, then?" I asked, nonchalantly..

"Oh, fuck, yes," she replied, in that beautiful, husky voice of hers. "Want to hear about it?"

As I suspected, they were back at his house by 9pm, and they had fucked all night, and this morning, too. "He's fucked me sore," she said, proudly.

She looked up from her coffee, a guilty look on her face. "He's fucked my arse sore, too..."

I knew this would come eventually; she'd always said she'd kept her arsehole just for me, but we did agree early on that there would be no limits to her activity. "Did he cum in your arse, too?" I asked, casually.

"Three times..." she mumbled.

We kissed on the bed, and I fingered her, feeling cum dribbling out between my fingers, tasting it on her breath. "So he fucked you again this morning, and you sucked him off as well?"

"Yeah..." she sighed, smiling dreamily. She stretched out on the bed and almost purred with contentment.

We kissed harder and I realised, my heart pounding, that I was totally in love with her, my adoration complete and all consuming, far stronger than it had been when we were in our early 20's. I desired her completely, I masturbated while looking at pictures of her or just thinking of her to the exclusion of all others.

For me to feel this way, I had had to let her make herself available physically to whomever she wanted.

I decided it was a price worth paying.