Upon Further Reflection

While I'm probably more of a BTB writer than anything, I've shown that occasionally I like to leave the safety of the reservation and take a big chance. I've usually gotten killed for it both in score and comments, the latter particularly from the anons.

Well, here I go again. This time I've invaded JennyGently's territory. Nobody seems to understand the psyche of a cuckold better than Jenny. I think she's one of the best writers in LW, despite the fact that I don't like her topic. But Jenny's men like being cuckolded and want the hotwife lifestyle. My protagonist accepts it begrudgingly.

If you don't like cuckold stories, DON'T READ THIS, plain and simple. You have been warned.

*

Bart Peters was lying on the bottom part of the bed, his face embedded in the pussy of his wife of 46 years, Traci. He was dragging the flat of his tongue slowly across the opening, then tightening his tongue up and pushing it as far inside Traci as he could get it. Traci was writhing and moaning, then she stiffened and started to rock on his face for all she was worth as her orgasm washed over her. Bart let out a low chuckle, feeling smug that at 72 he could still make his wife orgasm like a teenager.

He repeated the procedure several times, and the second time Traci came she was screaming unintelligibly. Bart dug back in for orgasm No. 3, and this time when she came Traci was screaming a name, but it wasn't his.

"Aldo, Aldo, Aldo ... ungh ... ungh ... ung. Love you. Love you!"

Aldo was the name of Traci's second official lover, whom she had had a long-term affair with more than 15 years ago. Traci was a hotwife, and while Bart had been a cuckold for more than 20 years, he never considered himself a willing one, and Traci had just crossed a big line in their relationship. Not the first time she had broken one of the rules, but this was a big one. This was the first time she had ever called him another man's name during sex, and Bart was devastated. He immediately stopped tonguing his wife, and Traci finished her orgasm without further prodding from Bart's mouth.

Bart got up from the bed, went into the bathroom and washed Traci's vaginal secretions and the K-Y lube from his face. Traci continued to lay in bed, breathing heavily, as she came down from her orgasm.

When Bart got back into bed, Traci got up, went to the bathroom and cleaned herself up. No words were spoken as she got back into bed and spooned against Bart's back.

"He'll get over it. He always does," Traci thought to herself as she faded off to sleep.

Bart blinked back tears as reality struck him in the forehead like a hammer meets a nail. He didn't drift off to sleep, and wouldn't for the entire night. In fact, this would turn out to be the last time Bart would ever touch Traci sexually.

Bart met Tracy a year out of college. He was a young pharmacist with a major chain, she was a paralegal at a major law firm in the same city. They met at a barbecue put on by Traci's firm; Bart was there as the plus-one of one of Traci's co-workers. Bart was instantly taken with Traci's long blonde hair, blue eyes and curvy figure, but out of respect for the woman he came with, he kept his distance, even though he and the woman were just friends.

Traci thought Bart was cute and funny in the little bit of time they had interacted. At about 6 feet, he was about half a foot taller than her, with a runner's long lean body. In fact, he had been a cross country and track runner throughout high school and track, earning a full ride to Drake University in Des Moines, IA, which he turned into a pharmacy degree. He, too, was blond and blue-eyed.

Bart waited about a week before getting Traci's phone number and calling her for a date. Dinner and a movie was the intention, but the pair hit if off so well that they decided to skip the movie and go to a quiet bar instead where they could talk some more.

Traci was a year younger than Bart at 23 years old. While she wasn't smitten with Bart at first, the young man's confidence, intelligence, and easy manner grew on her, and when he asked her to marry him a year later, she didn't hesitate to accept.

Bart felt that he was the luckiest man on the face of the earth when Traci accepted. Beautiful, intelligent, and fun to be around, Traci saying yes was like winning the lottery, Bart thought at the time.

Twenty years later, Bart would have still said he was the luckiest man in the world. At 45, Traci could have passed for 35, with her regular regimen of gym workouts paying handsomely, Bart would have said. The couple's three children -- two sons and a daughter -- were a college sophomore, a high school senior and a high school freshman, and all doing well. Bart had always made good money at his job, and Traci, despite taking several years off to be a full-time mom before the kids started school, was doing well at her job. The Peters lived in a nice house in a toney neighborhood.

The troubles started a few years later, about the time the last Peters child left for college. Although Bart loved his children, he was more than happy that he and Traci could spend time together as empty-nesters, with all that implied. Although he and Traci were older than the last time they had the house to themselves, they were hardly old, and with both being in fairly good shape physically, Bart was anticipating their usual ritual of quiet, twice-a-week sex might return back to more often, more physical sex. And for a few months it did, before dropping back again to quiet sex twice a week. Traci rarely initiated, and even more rarely did she orgasm during their lovemaking sessions. Fortunately for Traci, Bart was a considerate lover, and when he saw that Traci didn't respond well to his penis anymore, he upped his frequency of eating her out and using his hands. Traci would really get into the proceedings then, telling Bart he was the best pussy eater of his gender.

"You're the best rug muncher this side of a woman," she yelled at him one night while pushing his face deeply into her weeping gash and nearly drowning him.

Despite his oral ministrations, however, Traci gradually backed off to what had become their usual fare, and rarely let Bart have his complete way with her. Although he tried to talk to her, Traci didn't seem to want to talk about it ... until one day when she did.

It was a Friday night when Bart got home a few minutes after 6 p.m. as usual. Normally, Traci would be about halfway through cooking dinner since her workday ended at 5 and she usually hit the house at about 5:30, but on this night the dinner table was already set and the food, rigatoni and meatballs, was dished up and on the plates. Traci handed Bart a shot of Galliano -- his favorite thing to drink with pasta -- as he arrived in the kitchen. Normally the pair would have eaten on tray tables while watching television. He noted that the TV wasn't even turned on.

"Am I in trouble or something?" Bart said as he took the shot glass from Traci's hand.

"We really do need to talk, Sweetie," Traci answered back deadpan.

"Oh, shit," Bart mumbled.

Traci put down her fork, reached over to Bart and took his left hand in her right hand while she sat in the spot to his left. Her face was crimson and she looked like she would rather have been anywhere else but at the table. Bart knew he was screwed.

"Bart, Sweetie, you know I love you with every fiber of my being, and I want to grow old with you someday, but you've got to know that your dick just doesn't do it for me anymore," she finally blurted out. "It hasn't since Lizzie was born. I'm just too stretched out down there for you to be effective."

Bart certainly didn't see this coming. He started to breathe heavily and he looked ashen, Traci thought to herself. For his part, Bart couldn't even think. He had stopped eating, and was staring at Traci with blank eyes and his mouth gaped slightly open. Traci wasn't done, however.

"I want to try having sex with a man with a bigger, thicker dick."

Although his brain was not working at full capacity at the moment, Bart clearly heard the words "having sex with a man with a bigger, thicker dick." He looked at Traci in stunned silence, making small choking noises.

"If this doesn't work, then I don't know what I'll do," Traci finished.

Traci appeared to be on the verge of tears. A part of Bart wanted to wrap Traci in his arms, but that was a small piece compared to the part of him that wanted to kick her ass and scream at her. He stared at her for what seemed like hours, but in reality might have been 30 seconds.

"And if this does work, then what am I supposed to do?" Bart answered in a voice just above a whisper.

"I would hope that if this does work, then you would let me have a lover on the side," Traci replied almost as quietly as Bart had spoken. "We would be discreet, and nobody would need to know except you, me, and him. I would occasionally meet him for a 'date,' and we would spend the night together, or a part of the night together. It would be purely about sex; there'd be no emotional attachment, no love.

"The love would remain between you and I. We could make love as often as you'd want, without any pressure on either one of us to have to put on an act to feed the other's ego."

"You mean you want to cuckold me ... be a hotwife?" Bart said in a shaky voice.

"That's kind of harsh, Sweetie," Traci responded. "I wouldn't think of it as cheating on you. You would know when I was going out and with whom. I wouldn't be doing it to hurt you or humiliate you. And it would just be occasionally.

"I mean, I guess maybe down the road if you wanted to watch occasionally maybe we could do that, too, I suppose ..."

"I wouldn't want to watch that!" Bart blurted out. "What kind of a sick freak do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're a sick freak. I just mentioned it in case it was something you wanted to try, but maybe were afraid to ask," she said.

"Babe, I don't think I want you to do this. No, I absolutely don't want you to do this. I don't want to share you with anybody else, ever. You got that?!"

"Bart, I'm not really asking you for permission to do this," she responded with more than a hint of terseness in her voice. "We have a great marriage and I love you, but physically I need to get mine. Your tongue and hands are magic, but I need to feel a man inside of me for my best orgasms."

Bart about came out of his chair at that statement, his mouth wide open in shock. His cherished wife had just told him that his six inches of manhood wasn't enough for her, and she was going to find it elsewhere whether he liked it or not.

Bart slugged down the shot of Galliano, got up from the table, grabbed his car keys, and headed out.

"Well, that went better than expected," Traci said to an empty room.

Bart returned home about 11 p.m., smelling like the proverbial distillery. Traci was in the family room watching TV when Bart came in from the garage, hung his keys on his hook and went upstairs. She listened carefully as she heard Bart go into their oldest son, Jeff's, former room and close and lock the door.

Traci let Bart stew for two more days before she attempted to talk to him again. She was waiting for him in the kitchen with a small overnight bag in her hand when he came in. He looked at her, looked at the bag, and for the first time in two days actually spoke to her.

"So this is it then, 'date night?' I don't get another say in this?"

"Judging from your silence the last two days, you've said everything you're going to say, so now I'm doing the talking," Traci spit out. "If you can't handle this, don't be here when I get back, and I won't fight you on the divorce. But if you truly love me and care about me like you tell me you do, then be here when I get back, and we'll do some more talking."

This time it was Traci grabbing her keys and leaving. Bart stood there in complete shock, watching her leave for a night of sex with another man. It was to become a ritual he would never become accustomed to, however many times it happened.

Traci drove over to the other side of town, stopping at an apartment complex. She grabbed her overnight bag from the front seat of her car, headed up to Apartment 2B, and gave a confident wrap on the door with her right hand. The door was quickly opened by a shirtless young man who was about half of Traci's age. He gave Traci a crooked grin, took her overnight bag out of her left hand and shuffled over to the side of the door so she could enter.

Will Samuelson was actually a nick over half of Traci's age, being 25 to her 49. The youth had the well-muscled chest and arms of a gym trainer, which fit because in fact he was ... being the trainer at the gym to which both Traci and Bart had memberships. Without being directed, Traci moved wordlessly to Will's bedroom.

"Bart doesn't need to know about our previous engagements," she told her young lover, "Now that we've got his permission."

"So he said yes, then," Will stated more than questioned.

"He hasn't officially, but he'll be there when I get home tomorrow, which makes it official," Traci answered.

Across town, Bart drank himself into a stupor. His brain told him what he should do. His heart, however, told, him something else, and after a night of little sleep and half a fifth of Crown Royal, his heart won the day. After calling in sick the next day, Bart was lying on the family room sofa still feeling the effects of a major hangover when Traci came in after work, wearing the clothes she had packed in her overnight bag. She looked pleased to see him, Bart thought.

"So let me get changed out of these clothes and start supper, and we can talk about our new arrangement," Traci said to him.

When Traci came downstairs again, she was wearing only a pair of white bikini panties and a pair of white sneakers with short white socks. It was Bart's favorite look for her to wear around the house, and the very sight of her sent his dick into a hardening frenzy. When she sat down in the La-Z-Boy next to the sofa, Bart could see several bite marks on her boobs and toned belly as well as her upper thighs. He knew Traci had her new lover mark her for Bart's benefit.

"So his name is Will Dangerfield. You know him. He's the trainer down at the gym," Traci announced as Bart sat and gawked at her body.

"You chose somebody we know?!" Bart squeaked out in a high-pitched tone. "I thought you said you were going to be discreet?"

"We will be. Will knows the rules. Hands off in public, no comments to you, and never any word of this to be spoken to anybody else, or else he will have to find a new playtoy. And pretty much the same goes for you, too. No comments to him and nothing ever said to anybody else, or you're going to have to find a new wife. Am I clear, mister?"

Traci kind of leaned in and up as she said that last part to make her boobs bounce for Bart. It had the desired effect as he reached over and stroked both of her tits as he quietly answered, "Yes."

Traci and Will did their "dates" every other Saturday night for the first couple of months, then became an every week occurrence for the next few months before Traci decided she just couldn't go that long between nights "of the greatest sex I'd ever had." She said the latter statement with a huge smile on her face and excitement in her voice, and was actually perplexed that Bart didn't seem genuinely happy for her. Because of Will, Traci had turned into a more sexual animal, and Bart had benefitted from that by receiving more oral sex than ever before, which he really seemed to enjoy, as well as increase in sex overall. Only when she and Will had a big session the night before did she deny Bart her pussy, despite the fact that she never came anymore from Bart being inside of her. She always made sure to squirm around a lot, though, and made sure to moan enough to keep Bart's interest and excitement level high.

As far as Bart could determine, Traci stuck to her end of the deal; after all, why wouldn't she? Great sex with a muscular young guy twice a week while still having a loving, doting husband at home. And for her part, Traci was more than happy, and with small exceptions here and there she did stick to her part of the bargain.

The first hiccup to the plan came when Traci had made a delivery of some legal documents to a medical firm. As she turned to leave the facility, she literally bumped into a young physician. Looking up, she encountered a large pair of puppy-dog brown eyes and a warm smile, and he reached out and took her upper arms in his hands to stop her from falling back. He apologized profusely, explained he was looking at a chart instead of watching where he was walking, and offered to buy her a cup of coffee for an apology. Twenty minutes later Dr. Jake Hanson had her business card with her cell phone number written on the back.

Traci didn't even hesitate when the handsome Dr. Hanson called a few days later. Bart had given tacit approval to her taking a lover, so she would just swap in Jake for Will a few times. She didn't need to even let Bart know that it was a different lover, because at that point, she didn't feel she was cheating on Bart -- she was actually cheating on Will. She chuckled to herself as she thought about the situation.

Jake turned out to be a fun difference from Will. He didn't have Will's eight inches of thick man-meat between his legs, being only about the same size as Bart but a little thicker, but he was a little better technician than Will, Traci thought. The pair enjoyed about six meetings before Will surmised that Traci had another lover and threatened to go to Bart.

It took Bart several months to get used to his status as cuckold. Traci noted that as date nights approached his usual calm demeanor would disappear and he would turn into a paranoid wreck, She tried extra-hard on those nights to be more outgoing with her affection, hoping to show her husband that he was the one she loved.

"If you really love me as much as you say you do, how can you do this to me," Bart asked her one night as she was getting ready for an evening with Will.

"It's because I love you that I do this so we can stay together," Traci answered. "And you accept it because this is the way you can show me just how much you love me."

Traci was careful when she talked to Bart about his failure to fulfill her as a man. While she admitted to herself that she did get somewhat of a thrill from the humiliation aspect of the cuckolding, she didn't want to push too much and chase her handsome husband away. She still did love him, he was the father of her children, and someday they would grow old together.

While Bart never knew about Traci's time with Jake Hanson, he was very aware of the next threat on the horizon. About 18 months into this new reality, a beaming Traci announced to Bart over breakfast that she was pregnant, and that he was going to be a father again.

"Wait, what?" Bart sputtered with a mouthful of scrambled eggs at the breakfast table. "Seriously? Oh shit!"

Traci's broad smile immediately disappeared when she saw that Bart wasn't near as thrilled about the development as she was.

"How far along? Who's the father?" he asked after spitting his mouthful of food into the kitchen sink.

"What difference does that make, silly. It will be our baby, yours and mine, just like the other three kids. Only we're both a little older and wiser now," Traci responded.

"No fucking way, Babe! That baby gets DNA tested as soon as possible, and if it's not mine, it's out of here, or I am! There's no way on God's green earth I raise another man's child as my own. That's where I draw the line."

"How could you let this happen? You didn't go on the pill when you started to fuck around on me, and you let him do you bareback?"