It was a Monday in early February and it was England so of course it was raining.
I sat at my desk in my office and watched rivers of cold water run down the clouded glass of the window as I ate my lunch without enthusiasm. In an attempt to maintain my new, slimmer figure for my lover the 'New Me' had dispensed with sandwiches and cafeteria food so instead I was tucking as best I could into a pre-made salad guaranteed to be less than 300 calories.
It tasted as delicious you would expect a three hundred calorie salad to taste but I told myself that it was worth all the effort, as were my evening runs and visits to the gym. Now my husband wasn't the only man to see me naked on a regular basis, I had to make sure my body didn't let me down.
At the age of fifty-one, this was an uphill struggle. I threw the half-finished meal into the bin and leaned back in my chair, the empty lunchtime office giving me a rare moment to reflect on how things were going.
I had to admit, so far our new lifestyle had suited me very well. It had never crossed my mind that having a regular lover could bring such an exciting new dimension to my life and the fact that my husband Peter knew, encouraged and apparently enjoyed my having sex with another man made it all delightful if rather surreal.
It's extraordinary what we humans can call 'normal' if we want to. Pete and I were only a couple of months into this new and exciting way of living but already the way in which we talked and behaved had changed without any conscious decision on our part. We now discussed my infidelity freely and openly when we were alone, and used both the 'f' and 'c' word routinely in normal conversation between the two of us - something I would have thought impossible only a few months ago.
The idea behind our new lifestyle had been that I should spend every Thursday evening on a 'date night' with my lover, Tony. What we did on those nights was up to us, as long as I told my husband honestly all the intimate details -- if he wanted to know, of course. I also had to allow him free, unrestricted access to my body immediately after the date including, if he wanted, what had rapidly become his favourite sexual activity -- 'eating the creampie' between my thighs.
I must confess, at first I had found the idea of my husband wanting to lick another man's semen from my vulva to be completely incomprehensible and, to be even more honest, quite disgusting. But one look at the obvious delight he was getting from the experience quite reconciled me to it and, as I say, it had already become a fixture in our lives.
The fact that my husband is remarkably good at oral sex certainly helped me come to terms with this! The fact that my now-hairless pussy multiplied the sensations his mouth provided helped even more!
On the subject of pussies, although I had always hated the teenage American word, now that my own vulva was devoid of hair, the name seemed to fit much better so I had begun to use it both with my husband and with Tony.
As a bit of advice to my female readers though, if you feel like 'going bare down there' yourself, I would strongly recommend having it professionally waxed rather than a do-it-yourself shave. Although the shaving itself is unquestionably arousing, the stubble grows back really quickly. Once you start shaving, you have to be prepared to do it every couple of days -- every day you think you might have a visitor down there!
As I sat back in my chair wishing I could have a proper lunch and wondering when next to shave my pussy, little did I realise that I was about to enter perhaps the most difficult period of my entire married life; a period that almost brought my twenty-plus year relationship to an end.
***
Although our new lifestyle was less than three months old, my husband appeared to have already factored my ongoing infidelity into his life. There had been a few problems but we were overcoming them, the principal one being that Pete no longer referred to Tony by name and clearly resented the way his best friend had seduced me, his wife a month before I had confessed and it had all become 'official'.
There had been several occasions I had to remind him that without his continued urgings, I would probably never have committed adultery at all, let alone taken an ongoing lover. To be fair, when reminded, Pete accepted some of the responsibility for my initial adultery but would then remind me in turn that our bedroom fantasies had been based on my having multiple lovers and being fucked while he watched. Neither of these had yet happened; the implication being that I was getting the lion's share of the benefit our new lifestyle was providing.
Although I hadn't liked being told this, in truth Pete was quite right; he was being very patient over my continuing affair with Tony. Right then I was getting what I really wanted in bed; incredible, mind altering sex with a handsome man on a very regular basis.
My fantasy had come true in full but Pete was getting only part of his. I guessed my husband's forbearance would not last forever so I would have to take some steps soon to give him what he really wanted too.
Meanwhile my relationship with Tony was beginning to become a lot more complicated.
Life with families being what it is, our planned regular Thursday fuck-dates hadn't always been possible so we had met on a few other days too, including a Saturday morning when I should have been in the gym. The sex continued to be wonderful though; if anything it had become even better recently. Our minds and bodies were tuning in to each other's nicely and we were both learning what pleased the other most.
Indeed since New Year, the physical side of the relationship had soared. The presence of our kids at home over the festive period had been something of a frustration and the long message-sex we had enjoyed on an almost daily basis had been nowhere near adequate. Both Tony and I had been keen to get into our regular hands-on bed sessions once again as soon as possible.
Our houses finally empty of kids, our fucking had resumed in earnest it was immediately apparent that we had both done a bit of festive season research into new sexual possibilities. As a result we had had a lot of fun over the last month. My ageing joints still ached from having been twisted into unfamiliar contortions but it was what my trainer at the gym would have called a 'good pain'. It certainly made the memories much more vivid
When I had told my husband that Tony and I were planning to try new positions, all he had asked was that it would always end with Tony ejaculating inside me at least once so he could still eat his creampie afterwards.
I was happy to oblige; as I have said before, in my view the only way for sex ever to finish is with a good, copious insemination of my still-fertile female body.
Pete also asked that I tried to remember what positions we used and which worked best so I had done as promised and had been amused to see another blue charm waiting on my pillow as I went to bed after my first January date.
Three charms more had followed over the following weeks. I looked at the increasingly heavy bracelet that now seldom left my wrist, not realising how much heavier and how much more colourful it was to become over the coming year. I smiled every time I looked at it. Pete was a genius; as a choice of present for a new Hotwife, it could hardly have been better. Our new lifestyle seemed to be suiting us and the year ahead looked bright and promising.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Looking back, I should have known it would happen. I had certainly known about the risk but had been too involved in my sex life to do anything about it. Every single one of my online cuckold friends had warned me about it too so there was no excuse.
In my defence, having never cheated on my husband before, I was inexperienced in the ways of the adulterer and even more naive in the ways of the Hotwife so would always have been prone to making rookie errors.
Even so, with my researches and advice from my online friends, I should have been more prepared than I was.
***
"Please Penny!" the message from Tony on my secret mobile phone read. "I can't wait that long."
"I know I'm sorry but I have to be here for her," I reluctantly replied. "You know what she's like."
The 'she' in question was my daughter Isobel -- Izzy for short who had come home unexpectedly mid-week, announcing that she planned to stay three nights and would return to her student flat on Saturday.
I had missed her terribly since she went off to University so her visit had come as a very pleasant surprise but it had also put a stop on the Official Hotwife date with Tony which had been planned for Thursday night. Tony was naturally disappointed and from a sex point of view, so was I; it meant that there would be nearly two full weeks between our fuck-dates but we both knew where my priorities must lie, especially because I was anxious about the reason for my daughter coming home suddenly in the middle of term.
Izzy was twenty years old and a second year student at a Russell Group University a good four hours' drive away. She was tall like me, but darker skinned and with long almost jet black hair that reached well below her shoulders. Always very sporty, she was a thinner than me to point of being skinny with extraordinarily long legs which she tended to show off wearing skirts which were much too short. Unfortunately she had inherited my tiny boobs too but overall was a strikingly pretty girl.
The train journey home was long and, as with all British trains, was very expensive so an unscheduled visit was a rare event. Add to that the fact that Izzy was a highly conscientious student who almost never skipped lectures and a clear message was received by both Pete and me: something was wrong.
A mother's instinct to look after her children overcomes all others so, despite an increasing desire for sex with Tony that was becoming increasingly difficult to control, there was no question that I would postpone our Official Date to be there for our daughter.
"When will she arrive?" Tony's message asked.
"Her train's due at six. I'm picking her up on my way home from work."
"When does she go back?" the question buzzed on my secret phone.
"Saturday morning," I replied.
"Can't we fix a date for the weekend when she's gone? We could cover a lot of ground in an hour, Mrs Sexy Barker."
I smiled; Tony had started to call me by my married name a lot more often. He knew it sent a thrill through me, highlighting the illicit nature of our extra-marital relationship.
