What Is This on Your Computer

"Barry, what is this on your computer?" My startled wife Lori asked.

Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit! I had royally fucked up. How could I have been so stupid?

I had been browsing through my collection of pornographic pictures with cuckold/hotwifing captions and had accidentally left a picture up showing a blonde woman, who looked a lot like Lori. The woman was wearing a black spaghetti strap top sitting at a computer table but turned looking at the viewer.

The caption read, "Well, your secret blog account explains where my missing panties have gone and why you love to lick my pussy after we've had sex, but...

...I really want to talk to you about the cuckold theme which runs through all your posts!"

It could not have been a worse but more appropriate depiction.

Lori looked at me, her face showing a mix of anger, disgust, hurt and confusion. She pushed the "page down" key and another blonde came up. This time she was naked standing in the doorway her hands above her head and the caption read, "I did what you asked Baby..."

Lori pushed "page down" again and the next picture in the series read, "He's been fucking me all night..."

Lori pushed "page down" again and the next picture in the series read, "Does it make you happy Baby? Your wife fucking your best friend?"

Lori pushed "page down" again and the final picture in the series came up and read, "I'm so glad you're happy & horny... We're not finished yet. Tom wants me to do something he calls 'around the world.'"

Another push and another picture, this one of a topless woman in pink bikini panties and a caption, "Yes I've let my husband watch me have sex with other sexy men. Do not tell me you've never fantasized about that."

Another push, another picture, "Reblog if it turns you on to think of your wife having sex with another man."

Lori flashed me another dirty, angry look.

The next picture, though, really hit home; it showed a naked blonde that looked just like Lori and she was saying, "After you called me your 'hot wife' a few times, I looked it up on the internet. Is that what you want me to be your 'hot wife?'"

Indeed, I had recently begun calling Lori my "hot wife," knowing that she would take it as a compliment and not understand my ultimate meaning.

That was too much for her to bear. With tears in her eyes she stormed out.

I had done it; in only a few seconds I had managed to wreck our marriage and family and ruin mine and my wife's lives. I just knew what would be coming next, divorce.

I sat back down at the computer and clicked. Another picture came on the screen with a smiling blonde women declaring her initial reluctance and then enthusiastic acceptance of becoming a hotwife. "I wish I had done this sooner," she declared.

I pushed the button on the keyboard again and another picture showed, which was followed by another and then another and then I another. Remarkably, my dick hardened and I stroked it. I imagined Lori in the pictures with strangers' cocks in her mouth or stroking in and out of her vagina.

Strangers' semen covered Lori's face and body or leaked out of her most intimate place. In place of the women in the pictures, I saw my wife telling me to "clean her out" or "lick it, baby."

Just like that my cock pulsed and my own semen flowed out and covered my hand. Unbelievably, even after what had happened, I still had gotten myself off. I wish I could have kicked myself. I felt so ashamed. What was I going to do?

After that, I busied myself around the house trying to forget the horrible fate that awaited me, us; Monday morning. Hours passed, I wondered where Lori was and what she was doing. I assumed she had gone to her parents'. Should I call? Should I go over there? I just did not know what to do.

As I was anxiously pondering how to move forward I heard the familiar sound of Lori's car pulling into our garage. The kitchen door opened and the familiar shape of my wife's entered the room, her eyes red and swollen and her face streaked with tears and showing the stress and strain she felt from my cyber betrayal. She could not bring herself to look at me.

My stomach churned and twisted into knots. Even so, I tried to embrace her but she shunned me away with the swipe of her hand. Then came the words all men hate, "Barry, we need to talk."

I nodded and started to say something but she quickly cut me off, "No, don't. Just don't. I don't know what's going on. I went to my parents' and told my mother what had happened. "

She heaved and sobbed pitifully.

"I was so angry...I wanted to kill you...I want to kill myself...I don't understand it...I don't understand you...

Anyway, Mom calmed me down and we talked. Oh my god, Barry, I don't know...I'm so confused...I don't know what to believe anymore.

Mom told me that Dad had been the same as you. God, she was just so calm about it. She sat there with this peaceful, knowing smile on her face and then she told me she had done it. She said she had 'fucked,' her word not mine, men with Daddy's encouragement. I can't believe it, my own mother, is a, what do you call it, a hotwife and my father, a cuckold, and they love it. Daddy even said it was the best thing they had ever done. They were just so calm and happy about it."

Lori stopped to catch her breath. Tears streamed from her red puffy eyes and she sobbed deeply. At last, she let me envelop her in my arms and she buried her face in my shoulder. I kissed her forehead and told her I was sorry and that I loved her.

"I know," she said...it's just so hard," she sniffled and wiped her nose with her tissue, "you know, to believe this is happening. You, my parents, I do not know what in the world is happening. Anyway, Mother, even Daddy, explained it all to me. They even had me read the information on the internet. I understand a lot more now. So I'm here...I'm here to talk...To listen, maybe then I'll understand."

I guess the first thing you want to know is "Why?"

She shook her head up and down to indicate yes.

"I do not know, I just do." I told her.

She stared at me in disbelief. "So you want to sleep with other women." Lori said accusingly.

"No! No! No! That's not it at all. This is not about me sleeping with other women. Why would I want any other woman when I have perfection right at home?

I see it as more of my gift to you. To free you, to free you to explore and to experiment, to do things you would never or could never so with me.

For me it is a range of very powerful emotions and feelings all jammed together and hitting me at once. When I read about your need to have multiple sex partners while the man remains faithfully monogamous, it resonates as simple truth to me. We never talk about it but I know you have fantasies about sleeping with other men."

"No I do not!" Lori adamantly denied.

"Okay, Lori the main benefit of hotwifing for us as a couple is that you and I can openly and honestly communicate," I scolded her, "I know you have your fantasies and desires you keep from me, and that's okay. After all until this morning, I tried to hide my darkest secret fantasy from you."

"Okay, you're right," she agreed, "There are some guys I have wished I could have slept with when I was younger. You know I did not have any experience when we got married and in some ways I wished that I had..." Her thought trailed off.

"And neither did I," I interjected.

"I know," Lori shot back with a twinkle in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her face and for the first time since our blow up. She was calming down and more importantly, coming around and getting into it.

"And that's a part of hotwifing, too. To give you a chance to do what you didn't get to do when you were younger," I offered, "You get to have it all. Me, your faithful husband staying at home waiting to reclaim my unfaithful but loving wife and a virtually unlimited number of sex partners to do the things you would never do with me. And the best part is I get to spend the night with you reliving the experience from earlier that night."

Still, she pretended to be unconvinced so I turned to what started this whole dialogue, the computer and my library of hotwife/cuckold images and information. I pulled up a picture with a caption. The picture showed a naked hotwife and her naked lover locked in a hard embrace and an equally hard kiss. Her arms were wrapped around his neck and his hand clutches her ass and pulls her against his erection.

The caption quotes the hotwife, "I think lots of married women are starting to realize that the perfect marriage is a cuckold marriage. With a willingly cuckolded husband, you can have other sexy, well hung men making love to you whenever you like, and you do not have to worry about your husband getting angry or ever leaving you.

You get all of the advantages of having a stable, caring, loving husband at home protecting you and you get to have hot guys like the one I'm kissing in this photo. (My husband took this photo in our bedroom.)

Ever since my husband and I started this lifestyle, I have never been without an extra man to love. And my husband has been completely loyal. I know he only wants me. (And he knows how angry I'd be if he ever did what I get to do! I'd leave him for sure.")

So, ladies, if you can find a way to get approval from your husband and cuckold him, I promise you will have a fulfilling life that's beyond your wildest dreams! Girls do not get enough romance and love, and I'm getting it coming at me in all directions!"

Lori now looked at the pictures on the screen and read the captions from an entirely new perspective. I sat in the chair and Lori sat on my lap. Feeling my hardon pressing into her butt, Lori turned and gave me a playful dirty look before wiggling her butt on my erection causing me to moan.

Pushing my luck, I unsnapped her bra and unbuttoned her shirt enough for me to slip my hand underneath her bra's cup and squeezed her breast. She sighed and shivered. I touched her nipple, it was erect. I pinched it gently and rolled between my thumb and finger the way I knew she liked. Her body responded and she breathed deeply.

After going through a couple hundred more pictures, seeing naked wives stuffed with strange cocks of all sizes and shapes and reading the captions, Lori got up and ordered me to, "Get up and get naked!"

I did as I was told. She got naked too. She shoved me back onto the chair with my erection pointing toward the ceiling. Facing away from me, Lori swiftly straddled me and lowered and impaled herself with my hard cock at the same time. I was shocked at how hot and sopping wet she was. With my cock firmly implanted in her, she snuggled into my chest as we continued scanning my hotwifing pictures and reading the captions one after the other.

Lori's hand drifted down to finger her clit. I never would have believed it. Here was my prim and proper, chaste wife who has sworn to me that only whore's touch themselves "there," much less let their husbands see them doing it, doing just that and with my erect penis in her vagina. Soon the inevitable happened, she came first which sent me over the edge too.

Once she did, she looked up and smiled, announcing, "I'm tired let's go to bed." I agreed and reluctantly turned off the computer and followed her. Who would have thought that a day that start with my marriage on the brink of coming apart would end with my wife having sex with me while taking a crash course on hotwifing.

The next day we talked, I mean really talked. We laughed and cried and laid everything on the table. We worked through more "stuff" in those few hours than in all of the years we had been married. After several hours, Lori finally got up the nerve to confess, "Please don't hate me/ I have a fantasy...I have always fantasized about being a..."

**************************************************

I sat contemplating the ice cubes in my drink and thinking of my lovely wife, Lori, upstairs finishing getting ready for our first real adventure and complete the fantasy she had confessed months before, the reason we were in Las Vegas, at this hotel, where we had taken a suite with an adjoining room, for our purposes.

This journey had taken many months and Lori had not just changed outwardly but inwardly as well. Sex has become something to be enjoyed. She was no longer passive; willing to take whatever happened, instead she was a full participant and demanded what she needed.

During our role playing, she always got excited and we had always had great sex, but not this time. This time was for real. Her fantasy and mine rolled into one.

Shower, nails, and complete shave - legs and pussy. The attention she paid to detail was so erotic. Stockings and garters because men loved them, and a flash of lace band was very sexy. Hair bouncing on bare shoulders. A dress as backless as possible, the summery white pleated skirt that was exquisitely short, showed off her long tanned legs. Jewelry and make-up; scent.

All erotically composed, sending the message that this was her season, her heat was now. Through the bedroom door I caught sight of her slipping off her dress as practice for what was to come, just touching her pussy lips. In our practice, Lori often got very aroused before these events, except this time she knew that before long a new lover would be kissing her lips, her breasts, and driving his cock into her soft pretty pussy.

"Honey, look at me," Lori demanded with a serious tone in her voice, "If I go through with this tonight, this will be the last time you'll be able to look at my vagina and not think about someone else's penis being inside me and our life will be changed forever. Are you absolutely sure you're okay with that? And if I do this, it's not going to be a one-time thing. I will keep doing it with as many and as much as I want."

I did not respond at first, but just grinned at her, my silence confirmed my agreement. Eventually, though, I decided I had to say something reassuring to her, "Babe, I want you to do this for me, to do it for us. Honey, I want you to fuck each other deep and hard," I said. "I do not want you to think of me at all, only him, and giving him pleasure."

Lori smiled meekly acknowledging my confession.

I thought about how once she had made her availability known, it would be time to consummate the deal, so to speak. I suppressed my own raging erection. Soon the other man would enjoy these preparations, and she would sink into that whirlpool of excess and satiety that she craved, and come back to me, glowing with the evidence of her fucking: swollen nipples, dreamy well-fucked eyes, leaking, puffy pussy lips, and the scent of sweat and sex and another man's semen in her. I wished her well as I kissed her at the door.

There was a restaurant and bar that spilled out onto the street. I knew he would be there. It had all been meticulously planned by the service. He was easy to spot. I nodded to the man at the next table, I knew he was the man, a tall, tanned man in a khaki suit, no tie, and white silk shirt.

He smiled back and raised his glass. "I'm travelling through, a business meeting. Pretty girls here." He sipped. "And I tell you I am in the mood for one. I'm dying for a soft and sexy girl I can fuck."

Damn, I thought. I just sat down and that is the first thing you say to me, you must really be horny. I raised my glass to him. "Good luck. You are right; there are some very sexy girls here."

"Luck," he shot back indignantly and smugly continued, "Luck takes too long, I do not have time for luck. I go for the quick and reliable and only the best, guaranteed."

I did not tell him I knew the truth. I knew all too well the escort that the service had arranged for him. I did not tell him that he would soon be fucking my wife.

As if on cue, my lovely wife appeared across the street, her white pleated skirt swinging in the sun, her back bare, her tanned stocking encased legs and strappy heels looking spectacular. We both stared at her transfixed, trancelike.

"Damn," I whispered under my breath.

She knew the walk. You could see the muscles in her thighs and calves. Her hard work and hours spent at the gym paid off, her new body slim, muscular and firm.

Slow and easy, looking around behind her sunglasses, stopping to look in a shop window, checking her watch, fixing a strap on her sandal so her skirt would lift up her thigh showing her stocking tops and garter straps. She checked her watch on the opposite side of the street, and waited as if she was meeting someone.

My fellow drinker has transfixed. Mesmerized, and predatory. "Fuck me. That is one hot babe. I hope she's..." he did not finish his statement. He sat up tall. He was tall, I realized. He looked fit, and successful. His eyes were piercing toward her, as if trying to will her here. Sure enough, she walked across the street and past the drinkers out on the sidewalk, and into the lounge.

All eyes followed her movements, men lusting, and women envious. Up close now, I could see and everyone could see that she was not wearing a bra, her lovely breasts bouncing just a little, her nipples hard and evident. She chose the table in the corner by the window. My cock was aching already, and the game was on. She ordered a glass of white wine and uncrossed and crossed her legs, letting her shoe dangle a bit. She didn't even look my way. Every gestures and angle of her body proclaimed one message: Here I am come and take me. Try me.

"That's her," my new friend declared. He got up as soon as she sat down, and called the server over to buy her a glass of wine, the sign. As soon as it was delivered, he went over, smiling, offering his hand. He was a bigger man than I had at first realized.

From my observation post, I watched as the preliminaries played out. Minutes passed like hours as I watched the two strangers become more familiar with each other, touching and caressing until their prelude ended and the new couple got up to leave.

No matter how many times we had played out this fantasy, nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming panic and jealousy I felt as I watched Lori leave with her first ever client. She turned and our eyes met one last time. Our lives would never be the same again. Tonight for $800 per hour the love of my life would become a paid whore.

Later, Lori filled me in:

"I am Larry. May I join you?" He asked.

I said, "of course", but he had already shifted his chair around to her side of the table, closer, more intimate. She said he felt different from most other men: more definite, more dominant, and more confident.

"He had lovely eyes, and he placed his hand on mine right away, not moving it," Lori told me. "It made my pussy stream, for some reason. I loved the feel of his strong, large hand. And that he didn't move it, but assumed it was okay to leave it there.

He stared at my breasts. I knew my nipples were hard, and getting harder. I was proud of them. He looked at them. I fought my intuitive urge to cover myself and instead left them displayed for his pleasure.

He told me he was a tennis player, a real tennis player, or he used to be, before he had to retire and get into business.

I said that I and my husband planned to attend some of the majors someday, especially the French. He looked at me then for a hard second, and asked if my husband minded what I did and that I was out looking so sexy and in the company of a man who had designs on her. I flushed, I know it, but I simply smiled and said, "No, I love my husband, but we have an arrangement."

Then he placed his hand on my thigh, and caressed it. I had to fight the urge to push it away like the prim and proper wife I am... or used to be. His hands were strong, and warm, his fingertips very sensitive, as if he was indeed a tennis player. I know he felt me open my thighs just a little. His fingers went further up the inside of my thigh. He asked if I lived here. I said no, I was staying in the hotel. I had a room upstairs. "