Authors note: This is a story of loving wifes, in other words married women having sex with other men. If you can't handle it or the explicit language I suggest you don't read it and certainly don't send me any nasty e-mails. Not only will you not get a reply, it won't even be read. If you do however which to send me positive critique, I'll be glad to read your personal comments.
How shall I start this? I've been reading plenty of stories here on literotica, which have gotten me quite aroused and caused me to have some great fun the last year and a half. So it's time to return the pleasure with writing down a couple of stories which happen to me (and my hubby) since then. This is how it all started.
I'm Veronique, 30 years old and married to a wonderful hubby Bart. I'm actually pretty tall, around 6"0, which makes it that I have nice long legs (my favourite visible feature about myself). My eyes are brown, just like my hair, which is always between shoulder-length and waist length. I have a firm 85C cup and I'm not a fan of body hair, so I keep mine hair free. One last detail: I'm from Belgium, mother tongue Dutch, so please forgive me my spelling errors... :)
Lately, my husband hasn't been paying that much attention to me. I mean, we talk, have fun, to out and have great sex together. But I felt like something was missing. We talked while Bart watched with 1 eye TV, make plans to go out somewhere at a certain time, otherwise we wouldn't get out the door, ... I was starting to wonder if he still loved me or if he was having something on the side. Thoughts like that don't really worry, they make me angrier. In my mind, he was already convicted of fucking around and I started to get more and more frustrated.
I tried to control myself though: don't be stupid, Veronique, he isn't cheating on you, he has never any reasons to suspect him, so I acted as normal as I could.
In the morning we ate breakfast together and go off to work at the same time. Before he heads of to our cars, we hug and kiss to say goodbye. His car is standing on the left, mine on the right, but he has to go right and I left. It's kinda funny, we always have to cross each other, but we both refuse to give up our parking places in front of the house, lol. So instead, we blow each other one last kiss while we cross and go to work.
Since I'm working a lot closer to home than he is, I always beat him home and start dinner. Before, when my hubby arrived, he would sometimes sneak in and surprise me with a little gift or flowers. Sometimes, he would come in stark naked, jank my jeans down, pull my panties of to side and fuck me right over the counter or on the dinning table. Although he hasn't done any of those things anymore in quite a while.
I've got a healthy sex drive, so after several weeks of sporadic sex, and short at that, I was fucking horny as hell. Although I did want to re-pay him the favour of cheating on me, I couldn't make myself to just go alone to a bar and be picked up. Instead I went online to the chat boxes and tried meeting guys from around our region. I figured, I will know them at least a little bit by chatting with them before I met them.
I've met quite a bit of guys on-line, but they were all too far away, so we kept it to cyber sex, which was actually a lot more fun than I figured. A couple of weeks gave up finding a guy to actually meet over the internet. All the guys that were interesting and interested in me were just too far away, so I was just looking for some cyber fun.
But then Peter send me a pm, we got talking and wound up have some great cyber sex. Closing up our chat he said he wanted to meet me, not asking, telling!! He was actually still 45 min away, but he had no problems making that drive for me. It took us another 4 or 5 chat sessions before I actually had the nerve to go through with it and set up a date, just to talk, we both said. Yeah right, we both knew that if we ever met in real life it was to fuck, not to talk.
Bart and my third anniversary was next week and I thought I'd surprise him. By this time, I was boiling inside, I mean, this asshole is fucking behind my back (or so I convicted him), doesn't do anything special for me anymore. I haven't heard him even mention 1 time or anniversary. Normally we do a little something together, like talk a mid-week and drive to Paris or fly to Rome, London, ... So we both have to take time off from work, but since he hasn't said anything yet, I assumed he forgot, which made me even more angry.
Anyway, I set up something with Peter at the Pelican hotel, just outside our town, Friday (our anniversary) at 4 pm. He said he would have everything arranged.
Tuesday, first thing at work, I asked for Friday off, which was no problem. The next three days went slow. My colleagues at work asked me if there was anything wrong since I was so nervous all the time, little did they now... Thursday, Peter called me. I was terrified he would cancel on me, but instead he asked if it was OK if he brought a friend along. I told him if he thinks he is OK and not going to be a problem, it is OK with me, I trust your judgement.
Friday came around, finally. Not to rise any suspicion, yet, I got up, drank some coffee and drove away just like usual, following our routine. But instead of going into work, I stopped at a restaurant and a nice warm breakfast.
It was about 10 am when I arrived back at the house. I drew a nice hot bath and soaked in our bubble bath for an hour before getting out. It wasn't all fun and games though, during that hour I've saved my pussy, legs and arms pits so I would be smooth like a baby's behind for my lovers.
I dried my hair and patted my body before walking into our bedroom. I had the towel wrapped around my hair and my body was still damp from the water. I looked at myself in the mirror, not bad, if I say so myself. I placed my hands on my neck and let them slowly run down over my side while I watched the goose bumps form on my body. My nipples were hard as rocks and sticking straight out. My nipples were so hard I just had to touch them. I brought my hands slowly to my tits, let them circle softly to the inside and when I reached my nipples I squeezed them firm. I had an orgasm instantly right there. I almost fell through knees on the floor. I couldn't hold it any longer. My pussy was dripping wet and it was just gushing down my legs. I let myself fall flat on the bed, grabbed my 10" dildo and just shoved it home. All 10 inches slid in like nothing. My right hand was working the dildo like a jack rabbit while my left hand rubbed on my clit. It didn't take me another 10 strokes to cum again. That huge dildo stretched me wide and the fact that it is so big just intensifies the orgasm because everything is stretched to the max. That dildo has brought me already hours and hours of fun. The only thing I missed from it afterwards was a pussy full of cum. I love the feeling of a mans cum dribbling out of my cunt.
Still, I lay there at least 10 mins with the dildo buried in my cunt savouring the experience. I looked at the clock, 1 pm already, time to get dressed and put my make-up on. I wanted to be early so I could see Peter and his friend come in to the hotel. Gave me some extra time to analyse and prepare myself.
I decided to first put my make-up on, that way I could stay naked a bit longer (I love walking around naked in the house) and I was also sure not to stain the clothes with my make up. Peter asked me to look slutty for him, he said: You're deliberately setting up something with another guy to get fucked, so you're a slut, you'd better dress like one too... I put on lots of blush on my face and heavy green-blue eye make-up. Fiery red lip stick and some body glitter to top it all off. I painted my finger and toe nails to match my lip stick and look at the result. I gilled, I really looked the part. I wonder if Peter is going to recognize me, the pic I sent was very conservative.
I walked into the bedroom again, first my garter belt and thigh high fishnet stockings. I didn't wear any panties, you also don't wear ear plugs when you're going to the opera, are you, lol? I put on my demy-cup bra to support my 85C's before I covered them with a tight fitting white shirt. A short leather mini-skirt and my favourite knee-high "fuck me" boots. Just past 2 pm, I was right on schedule. Before I ran out the door, I wrote my hubby a note on which I left a message where I was and the room he could find me in, which I got from Peter when he asked if he could bring his friend along. That would be my gift to him on our anniversary, show what his wife is capable of doing if he doesn't pay enough attention to me, that'll teach him.
I arrived at the hotel around 3 pm and went straight to the bar, where I had a good overview of the parking lot to see who all arrived. Before I could even order my drink, 2 men came sitting next to me on either side. I looked to me left and saw a good looking man in a suit with a big smile on his face. Hello Veronique, he said. I was startled, how does he know me?? Only then did it hid me, that was the guy from the picture, it was Peter. Darn, there went my plan to see them arrive and to prepare myself. After a moment to recompose myself I said: I'll have a martini. The guy on my right, laughed at my dry, cool remark. Again I jumped just a bit when I saw it was a black guy who was sitting next to me. I'm not a racist at all, he wouldn't even be my first ;). Damn, he was hot looking, brought, tall and a handsome face. This is John, Peter said, my friend I asked you about.