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.