Of all the women I have ever known or read about, my wife Louise was without peer in her resistance to becoming a slut wife. Everything seemed against it. First, there was her strict fundamentalist religious upbringing. In the world of her parents and their church friends, sex was something to be had seldom and talked about less. This had several effects, one of which was to make the first few years of our marriage very "vanilla", with the Missionary Position (go figure!) being the order of the day. Any talk of "swinging" or "wife swapping" or "cuckolding" was out of the question. I knew not to ask. She was also a shy, introspective lady, and this did not equip her well for the task of flirting with other men.
But at least she gradually warmed up to sex with me in marvelous ways, realizing that it was not simply for procreation, but for intense mutual pleasure as well. She started dressing provocatively for bed-time, with extraordinarily high platform heels, that were not much good for walking in, but made her look exquisite when I was fucking her. She would add in slutty little stretch-fabric mini dresses and later, latex rubber dominatrix outfits.
And she let me take all the photographs I wanted of her, dressed up in slutty and provocative ways. This concession to my lust on her part was to play a small but crucial part in her eventual transformation into a slut. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
She got very creative with her sexy outfits, and I got creative with my camera angles. Ten years into our marriage (we had married at age 27), I had a "spank bank" of about 2000 sexy pictures of my hot wife. She also became extremely open to trying a wide variety of sexual positions, which I have to admit was a thrilling turn of events.
And what hotness! Louise stand 5'4" tall, and was 112 pounds when we married - very petite. By the time she was 42, she had reached a weight of 120 pounds, and I swear that all those 8 extra pounds went to her tits and ass. When I married Louise, her breasts were barely a 32B; now they had swelled to an honest 34C. Her legs were shapely, with gently swelling hamstring and thigh convexities and the sharp diamond calves of an ex dancer. Her hair, a golden brown, she always wore long, to the middle of her back at least, and sometimes all the way to her ass. Her big brown eyes had the ability to tease and captivate any man. She was stunning, not just for her age, but for ANY age. And I continued to add to my photo collection. I had a large terabyte hard drive with a main folder called "Wife Pics."
It was about the time we both turned 44 that I discovered cuckold porn. From the very first minute of viewing I was hooked. I couldn't look away, and I couldn't stop wanting it. From that very first day, I knew that I wanted other men, big-cocked men, to fuck Louise. I had no doubt whatsoever, and the passage of time only made my desire for this increase. The thing was ... what to do about it? Louise was as religious, as conservative, and as dedicated to the church as ever. She was a straight arrow, and I couldn't see how the direct approach ("Darling, would you mind terribly if I brought a few of my horny friends around and let them have a go at you?") could ever work. In fact, I was scared to talk to her about the subject at all.
One night, though, I had been out drinking at a bar after work on a Friday night, and had overdone things by quite a bit. At a certain blood-alcohol level, for me personally, beer may as well be truth serum, and I found myself with Louise in our bedroom, explaining the entire cuckold lifestyle to her. She seemed to take it well, but I was not really in any shape to be able to tell.
I awoke with a sense of excitement, a sense that something important had just happened. Then I remembered that I had opened up to Louise the night before regarding my cuckold fantasies, and my desire to make them come true. At breakfast, I broached the subject again. Clearly I had mistaken her calmness the evening before, because now she was full of rage and venom, aghast at the idea of her fucking another man, and very put out with me for suggesting such a thing. She made it clear that at no time, now or ever, would she engage in such "adulterous shenanigans." She shut me down hard.
So, I went away and licked my wounds, but it seemed there was no way forward for me, no way to get Louise to cuckold me. So, I invented a coping mechanism. Our sex life was still phenomenal, but I added a secret, mental ingredient to it, unknown to Louise. Now, during foreplay, I set up a role-play scenario in my mind. I became someone else. I became the man that I most (on that particular day) wanted to see fuck her brains out. Sometimes, I was the guy who always followed her around at church. Sometimes, I became one of the three or four guys who always hit on her at her gym. Sometimes I was one of my gym friends or one of her literary friends. Louise was an aspiring novelist at the time ... she was about to conclude the writing of her first novel, and so she had developed a fairly large set of "literary friends." More than half of them were male, although of those, I suspected the majority was gay. But there were some definitely horny heterosexual guys in Louise's literary set, guys I had met, and into whose eyes I had peered. In two or three of them, the raging horniness for my wife was palpable. They wanted to get into her panties in the worst possible way. They were desperate to fuck her. I'm sure she flirted with them innocently, which must have come near driving them mad. In hindsight, I'm sure that they, as well as her regular lust-ridden gym fans, used images of my wife regularly in their masturbatory fantasies. I wondered how many loads of cum had been spilled in raw desire for my innocent wife? Probably hundreds, now that I think about it.
But, I digress. My point is that, after my revelation of my cuckold fantasies, and after her immediate rebuke, I began to use these men. Every single time I fucked Louise, I pretended to be one of them instead. Sometimes, they took her brutally in the gym, on a piece of exercise equipment. Sometimes, they took her in an unused Sunday School supply room at our church. Sometimes they took her to a cheap hotel and fucked her for hours. But always, I was someone else in bed with her from that time on. And, she noticed a difference. She definitely wasn't complaining, but she did inquire several times as to why I was fucking her with so much more vigor, energy, stamina, and excitement? I mumbled something about the new vitamins I was taking, but of course I could never tell her the real reason my fucking skills had improved so much: that I was living out, in the only way I could, my fantasies of her being forcefully taken by other men, men with bigger cocks, every one eager to enter my wife's forbidden passage.
This went on for the space of a year, and I have to say, it was very thrilling in a way. The sex was never better. Louise even bought more sexy outfits to wear to bed. She stepped up her work in the gym, so that her body became more toned and taut than the day we'd been married. It is hard to complain about red-hot sex with a 45-year-old who has the body of a 25-year-old! And she was letting me take even sexier photos of her than before. Now, she allowed me to take pictures of her holding open her gaping pussy after I (or rather, one of her would-be bulls) had fucked her. She seemed to have lost all her shyness. My photo album really started to blossom.
And then one day, I asked myself a question: Could I make love to Louise as myself again? I mean, after all, it had really been my body fucking her so gloriously for the past year. She was in love with me, and she was giving me the best sexual pleasure I could ever imagine ... no, beyond what I could have imagined.
So, one night, she came to bed dressed in a tight little black mini-dress and calf-high black boots. She looked so amazingly hot. Honestly, she had never looked better. My cock became rigid almost immediately, and we settled into one of our usual positions, the "cowgirl" position, with her riding on top of me, and her 34C tits hanging down pendulously in my face. But although I stayed hard, I could not cum. We tried 5 or 6 other positions. I finally had to apologize to my wife, letting her know that an orgasm did not seem to be in the cards for me that night. She suggested that maybe I was just tired, and I went along with that. But I knew that the real reason was that I had not fantasized about myself being another man fucking her.
This was repeated the following night, and I was becoming very frustrated. As myself, I could get hard and fuck her, but I could never cum. I knew she was getting worried, and that if this went on, she would send me round to the doctor for a round of tests. So, a couple of days later, I had one more go at it. We fucked for about 20 minutes, with me being fully myself, and again, I was unable to reach orgasm. It was futile. So, I switched gears in my mind, and became John, the tall, rugged-looking flirtster from her gym. My strokes got more forceful. My desire became overwhelming, and within 30 seconds, I began to shoot my pent-up five day load into my wife. She was ecstatic, having cum simultaneously. I was very relieved, too, but I also knew I was trapped. As myself, and only myself, I was essentially impotent.
I was really worried about this for two or three weeks. It felt as if I had lost myself. I felt more sexually weak than ever. My intake of cuckold porn increased. Eventually, I took to browsing m4mw ads on craigslist, in which Alpha-male "bulls" advertised looking for cuckold couples to dominate or play with. I actually corresponded with a few of them. But each time, once they realized that my wife was not "on board" with my fantasy, they all stopped communicating with me. It made sense; they were not rapists ... they just wanted to have an easy-going, fun situation in which they could fuck another guy's wife. I totally understood. So, back to the drawing board.
It might be useful at this point to review how things looked to Louise up to this point. She was 45 years old, and her husband of the same age had never been better in bed than he was right now. He was just as aggressive as she liked him to be, and their sex life, though strictly with each other, was rich and varied for what it was. As nearly as she could tell, her husband had never cheated on her with another woman. Things were going pretty well. She had just finished her first novel, and her literary friends had received it very warmly. She was looking for a publisher, with high hopes. Her husband's resurgent interest in sex a few years back had sent her back to the gym, and her body was tight and looking better than it ever had. Although she'd gained eight to ten pounds, it all had gone to her tits and ass ... she'd had to move up a bra size, and her husband Will certainly did not seem to be complaining about that. Other men? Oh, well, there were Jim and John from her gym that she flirted with harmlessly, and Rick, that dirty old man from their church, whom she loved to torture every so often with just a small view of her cleavage ... but cheat on her husband? Why on earth would she do that? She was completely satisfied sexually, or so she thought.