Cuckolding my Husband


My name is Katie, and I’m mid-forties, married, with two grown daughters and a lovely husband, Jeff.

My Jeffrey is a warm, loving, easygoing sort of guy that has never had a problem giving in to me when I am serious about something. He lets me call the shots, as it were, and now looking back on our relationship, even before marriage, I would have to admit I’ve always been the dominant partner.

Before we were first married, Jeff confessed to me that liked spanking – that is, he liked to receive a spanking from a girl. A few of his girlfriends had tried to play this way with him, but they weren’t into that sort of thing.

Jeff is six foot, two hundred pounds, was always a good athlete in football and track in school, and you’d never know that he had a submissive side. He always looked and acted like a big bossy jock, which was part of his attraction for me.

As we dated in college, and I got to know him more, he started to open up to me about his true feelings and desires. I listened and asked questions, some of them very direct and deeply probing, and he always answered me truthfully, no matter what.

I really liked the open intimacy that he gave me as he revealed everything I asked about, and I think part of the reason I fell so deeply in love with him was because of his openness and vulnerability with me. He’s anything but open and vulnerable with other people, but with me he is, and that makes me feel very special and very loved.

I shared much of my history with him, but not in nearly so great detail as he did with me, mainly because I was so much more inquisitive. Over time, as I prodded and probed, he shared all his sexual fantasies and secret desires with me, while I shared with him what I thought was appropriate. It’s not that I’m holding back, in fact I’ve told him a lot more than he asked for, but I guess it’s just that my ‘need to know’ is much more powerful than his.

So by the time we were married, I felt I knew him very well. He was a powerful, “A”-type man, with a submissive side that needed a lot of feminine nurturing at home, in sort of a ‘maternal’ way. In other words, he very much wanted me to be in charge, at least at home and in the bedroom, at least a lot of the time. I think he needs it to balance his aggressiveness and dominant persona out in the business world.

Being kind of a bossy girl all my life, this wasn’t much of a problem for me to accept. In fact, he agreed that I could and should have the final say in financial and family matters, while he threw himself into his career and made us a bunch of money, being the big powerful man in the world.

So back to our dating… When he confessed he liked to be spanked, I asked him a lot of questions, and found that the answers weren’t as weird as I might have expected. The bottom line was that, he wanted to completely ‘give’ himself to a woman, feel that she was watching over him, taking care of him, and loving him enough to give him a little correction when she felt he needed it.

One thing that brought out those feelings for him was if his woman would love him enough to take him across her knees from time to time and swat his bottom, to help him stay centered and focused and relaxed – knowing that she was in charge of taking care of him. I suppose there’s a ‘little boy’ inside every big strong man, just needing a feminine guiding hand to help him along in life.

He knew that all of these things he told me might push me away, but he’d rather our relationship fizzle than to live a life with a woman that couldn’t love him the way he needed to be loved.

I particularly liked that he was ‘shopping’ me as a potential wife for a life-long relationship, and not just as a girlfriend ‘for as long as it lasted’. Since he was being so open with me, it showed that his priorities were straight. Such a good boy.

Strangely, his relationship with his mother was truly outstanding, she’s a wonderful lady, and he hadn’t grown up being spanked by her at all. He confessed that his desire for spanking had started during and after puberty, and wasn’t based on past experience with his mother. That was a relief to me, as I didn’t want a man who simply wanted me to replace his mommy.

For my part, I suspected the dominant side of my personality is what allowed me to listen to him and calculate everything with at least a fairly open mind. I weighed the pros and cons and came up with “maybe…”

One night, after a date which had included a lot of kissing and a little petting, we had ‘the discussion’ upon which our relationship built from that time forward, and has lasted all the way to and through marriage and children and twenty-two years together. That was the night of our first spanking.

The night of ‘the discussion’ was the first time I saw my Jeffrey naked, and the first time I spanked his bottom. I think we were both a little disappointed. His genitals were smaller than I had hoped, although that’s not really a good criterion for deciding on marriage, but it’s something I did notice. For his part, I think the spanking I gave him was not nearly long or hard enough to suit him, but he did a good job of being grateful and thanking me.

As we continued to date, we agreed that once per week, and only if we were alone, he could ask me for a spanking. It was my choice whether I gave him one or not.

Over time, he encouraged me to research what he called ‘domestic disciplinary spanking’ in some magazines he gave me. I read some articles and learned a few tricks of the trade.

As our relationship grew as we dated for the next couple years, he no longer could ask me for a spanking. I changed the system to one where I would choose when, where, and why he would be spanked. I also learned to spank for a purpose – meaning, to spank him because of something he did or said, or because I wanted to change something in his behavior – and that sort of spanking included scolding.

On the one hand, I didn’t like the way this made me feel like his mother, or that he was a little boy. On the other hand, he went out of his way to show me that I was his woman, his girlfriend, then fiancé, then finally, his wife, and that I was never his mother. I felt ok with that.

We married, and it was a wonderful June day and everything went well. We moved in together and started our new life.

As our life together progressed, the spanking continued to evolve, as did our relationship. The girls came along, which made spanking my husband more difficult, but I managed to get him safely across my lap at least twice a month, and by spanking him severely it seemed to work alright.

Over the years, and possibly because I regularly spanked my husband for disciplinary purposes, I became more and more dominant in our marriage, and it showed. I got comments from my friends on how well behaved and attentive and cooperative was my Jeff, and they would compliment him and make him blush.

Sometimes he got comments from male friends that he was pussy whipped and henpecked and a wimp. Of course, when they said these things to my jock husband, if it was in fun he let it go. If it was meant to hurt, he would just deck the guy and their friendship would be over.

Like I said, my Jeff is a pretty well-built and strong man, quite dominant except with me.

His business prospered, we did well as a family, my job in the medical profession helped out and kept me busy. Then the girls went away to college and we were ’empty nesters’ in our forties, with time on our hands.

All the while over those years, I kept feeling more powerful and more dominant in our marriage. I loved Jeff, and still do, with all my heart. Nothing can or will ever change that. But as he became more submissive to me over the years, it made two desires grow in me.

First, I grew in my need for more dominance over him in every way. I had grown to adore having my big handsome husband obey me, and I really liked it when this happened in public. I liked to decide what chores he would do, what he would wear, how he would groom, and how he should address me in public and private. I’m a big fan of “Yes, dear, whatever you say, dear.”

The more public his submission became, the more my girlfriends noticed, the more awed looks of envy I received from them, and the more requests for advice they made. Jeff and I had talked for quite a while about it, and finally he agreed that it would be alright for me to tell both my sister, and my closest girlfriend, that he was a spanked husband – and that was the secret to his good behavior.

We discussed that these revelations should be made by both of us together, that way, Jeff would be able to confirm what I said. I really felt that if we were going to share our life, we should do it together. Of course, it was exciting to me to think of having my big strong husband at my side, nodding in agreement, as I told the two closest people in my life.

It was a long discussion that I had with Jeff prior to this decision, and as always I listened as he shared his thoughts and feelings. I always take his feelings and suggestions under serious consideration, but we had long before come to the understanding that I made the decisions. We liked the system of ‘we discuss, I decide, you obey.’ It has always worked well for us.

I must admit that it thrilled me to tell my sister and my BFF. I did it both times in Jeff’s blushing presence, as we had agreed. The looks on the faces of my sister Jane, and then later, my girlfriend Donna, were just priceless as you can imagine.

From that day forward, it was like something snapped in me, and in Jeff, sort of freeing us to really go further with the wife-led-marriage lifestyle we had built. I loved feeling in charge of our marriage, and Jeff loved feeling submissive toward me.

We happily continued raising our teenagers and going about the things in life that really mattered.

But strangely, there was that other desire that had grown in me over the years, and it seemed incompatible with my happiness as an ‘in-charge wife’.

It was a desire not to have to be dominant all the time. No matter how bossy you are, a think girl wants to feel like a beautiful delicate docile flower at least once in a while. That just wasn’t something likely to happen in my marriage, and I certainly wouldn’t want to live that way. I am a soft feminine dominant woman. But I had a nagging ’empty’ spot that wanted, just for a moment every now and then, to feel like a soft feminine submissive woman.

As we had lived, loved, and grown together over the years of building our life and raising the girls, we had kept up the practice of having some emotionally intimate time to share our deepest feelings with each other.

Jeff’s submissiveness continued to grow toward me, confessing that he enjoyed feeling lightly humiliated by me – such as when he had to sit next to me when I told my sister that I spanked him regularly on his bare bottom over my lap.

He cringed when I questioned him, and he had to admit he was greatly aroused by reliving a certain day at my sister’s house. Jeff had been in a bad mood and had been impolite with my sister. I’d had enough of that, and asked Jane if I could use her bedroom for a few minutes. She said ‘yes’, unsure what was going on. I took Jeff by the hand, went into the bedroom, and put him across my knees. The swats were nice and loud on his bottom, as were his gasps and cries, removing any doubts Jane might have had. He certainly learned his lesson.

He liked that I had long ago taken total control over his ejaculations and had been limiting them to no more than once per week – and ONLY with my permission and supervision. I had read about this in a naughty magazine and it proved to be a very powerful tool in keeping a well behaved husband.

He confessed that he enjoyed spending hours giving me oral pleasure, never knowing if I would allow him release. He admitted that, while disappointed when it happened, he couldn’t help but be later excited when I did in fact choose that he wouldn’t have a release. I liked that too.

He liked when I decided sometimes that he should do his housework wearing only an apron. He liked it when I chose that he should remain undressed in my presence. And blushing deep red, he admitted that it was exciting for him to hear me refer to his ‘small’, ‘cute’, ‘pretty’, ‘little’ penis – especially when I was touching it.

Those revelations simply fueled my desire to be more dominant in our relationship. I enjoyed making him feel embarrassed, seeing him blush, and watching in secret amazement as he obeyed my every instruction and endured any humiliation.

I had to admit there was something very liberating about controlling and sometimes denying my husband’s orgasms. He seemed so attentive when I didn’t let him ejaculate for several days, that I couldn’t help but enjoy teasing him about it.

We both agreed that we very much enjoyed how our domestic spanking had evolved, especially once that the girls were out of the house and I could really spank him anytime, anywhere.

I liked having him completely naked while I was completely dressed. I adored holding him over my lap and swatting his cute bottom bright red while lecturing him on the importance of leaving the toilet seat down or keeping my car properly washed and gassed up.

With the girls gone, I could spank him in any room I wanted, usually my office, and I could give him corner time in the living room. From there I could read a magazine and also admire his freshly spanked pink bottom as he fidgeted from one foot to the other, desperately trying to keep his hands at his sides.

So here we were, pretty happy with everything. Except for that little desire.

I wanted the chance to feel like a submissive woman, a woman taken by a man. Preferably a man with a big cock. But I pretty much kept those ideas to myself, until one day…

We were sitting on the sofa one Saturday night, drinking wine and I was wearing the pretty sundress I had shopped in that day. I was relaxed, having spent the afternoon leading Jeff from store to store as he paid for and then carried my purchases.

As we sat on the sofa, Jeff was, as I had come to like, naked. We had recently agreed that after nine PM, Jeff should ‘get ready for bed’, which of course meant that he should undress.

I just love being fully dressed and having a naked man around the house!

So, we were feeling smooth from the wine, and we started to share feelings and fantasies, as I casually fondled my loving husband’s bare genitals. Oh yes, that was another thing I require of my dutiful husband. I had always liked for Jeff to keep himself well groomed below the waist, since a big hairy thatch just isn’t attractive, but over time, we just decided it would be best if he kept himself shaved bare ‘down there’. I like how it looks, all clean and fresh.

So, I was fondling my husband’s bare genitals, and that always seems to help him to open up to me and tell me how he feels.

As I was telling him about what I had fantasized lately, it just sort of slipped out that I had a fantasy of being ‘taken’ by a big cock. My eyes sort of went wide as I heard myself say this. I take my marriage vows very seriously and never wanted to threaten Jeff by even intimating that I wanted to be unfaithful.

But there is was, a fantasy out in the open.

I cringed to hear his response. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And I was surprised to feel his penis throb and become quickly stiffer in my hand. Hmmm…. Interesting…

Jeff opened right up and admitted that he’d been having similarly naughty thoughts for a while. It was sort of associated with his enjoyment of my occasional comment about his endowment being ‘cute’ or ‘little’, and he had put two and two together to come up with thoughts about me having an affair. He didn’t say he thought I’d had an affair, but he’d been aroused by the thought that I might, for some time.

I told him he should have shared those thoughts with me and not held back. I also told him I had no plans to act on any such idea, but perhaps it would be fun to explore it as a fantasy.

We sipped the wine in silence, and then I said, “Honey, why don’t you tell me what you’ve fantasized about?”

He blushed and was embarrassed to begin, but I massaged his testicles firmly and added, “You know you have to confess your secret fantasies to me, darling. Now tell your wife why your cute little penis gets hard when you think of me having an affair. You’re safe with me and you can trust me, you know that.”

He spilled his guts. I was quite amazed how closely his fantasy of my infidelity matched up with my occasional naughty thoughts. He was very concerned that I understand clearly that the infidelity in his fantasy was completely a one-way street – that I would have a lover while he would remain faithful to me always.

He said his fantasy was that I would go on a date with a coworker, or a friend of a friend. Or I would go to a business conference at a luxury hotel, or go on a night out dancing with the girls. There, I would meet a handsome man who would sweep me off my feet and I’d invite him into my bed to have a long and fulfilling lovemaking session.

I would return home to my husband tired and disheveled – and even a bit sore – from the marathon lovemaking with my handsome lover. I would have a dreamy look on my face of complete contentment because the fantasy lover would have satisfied me with his very large penis.

Listening to my husband confess that he was aroused by the idea that I would take a lover with a ‘very large penis’ made my eyes wide and I could feel myself blushing.

Jeff grinned at me as he watched my reaction to his words, saying “Ooh, it appears that you enjoyed my naughty story, dear…”

Indeed I did, but I didn’t want to seem blatant about it.

I said, “So, Jeffrey, you’re saying that it would excite you if your wife went out on a date with another man? And that it would be arousing if his penis were big, and your wife had sex with him?”

He nodded, closing his eyes as I began to stroke his penis in earnest.

I purred, “As long as I came home to you, honey, and took some extra time to play with your little penis and make you moan and wiggle and spurt your semen, that it would be alright for your wife to get into bed with another man?”

He nodded, gasping.

“And that man would satisfy your wife with his very big penis, wouldn’t he honey?”

He nodded again.

“And what if I stayed overnight, and I would have to let him have me several times – even in the morning before I came home to you – would that be exciting?”

He moaned under my hand, which I took as ‘yes’, so I slowed down my stroking to make my husband last longer.

“What if I went away for a weekend with my lover? What if we went to a resort for a whole weekend? Would you be a good boy and clean the house thoroughly? Would you be erect and excited when I finally came home?”

I had to stop playing with him, lest he make a mess right there on the sofa. But it seemed like I had at least determined that this was a very arousing fantasy for my wonderful husband.

Maybe it was the wine, but I just couldn’t help myself from going further with my line of questions.

“So, darling, if I had a sexy lover, could I see him every week? Or more? Would you be ok with me having another man’s big cock in me so often?”

He was beside himself with excitement and I was only massaging his testicles.

“Yesss…” he whispered.

I started to slowly stroke again as I asked, “What about my big hunky lover’s ejaculations? Do you think I’d have to make him wear a condom? And what if he was opposed to that? What if he really wanted to come in your wife?”

“Up to you…” he gasped. Such a good boy. Let me mention that I am not on the pill, since Jeff had a vasectomy several years ago, do this was just soooo nasty.

“So, let me get this straight,” I said in my firm wife voice, “You’re telling me that if I wanted my lover, this fictional, fantasy, non-reality lover to come inside me, that would excite you?”

“Yesss…” he managed to blurt.

“And what if it was real? What if it were true that just this afternoon, I’d met secretly with my lover at a hotel, and we’d made love for 3 hours in a steamy hotel room? What if he’s so virile, I let him come in me three times and my panties were just dripping with his semen? What would you think then?”

As I sort of expected, that did it. He spurted all over my hand. As a loving wife, I rubbed him all the way through and made him spurt and spurt. He really came a lot, writhing and moaning as though he hadn’t come in a week. Which of course, he hadn’t.

That was quite an intense session of fantasy sharing, and a very intense ejaculation for my sweet husband. I was pleased that he had such a good ejaculation, it always made me feel so powerful to make him come nice and hard. But the mental imagery, the fantasy talk, was really turning me on too!

I cleaned him up and took him to bed. We cuddled and spooned and he just kept kissing me all over. It was so nice, I let him kiss all the way down my belly and then he treated me to a very good round of cunnilingus – something that he’s very good at since we have worked on his skills for quite some time – and I have to say my orgasms were frequent and powerful as I imagined the scenario of having a lover.

When I couldn’t take any more, I pulled him up and we kissed for a while. Magically, my forty-something husband was erect again. How delightful. He got on top of me and gave me the best he had, and he lasted quite a while since it was his second bout for the evening.

I was quite pleased with his wonderful attention and very ardent lovemaking. But at the same time, I was imagining what it might feel like if the man on top of me, thrusting into me, was thrusting something a good deal longer and thicker. I know a wife shouldn’t think about things like that when her husband makes love to her, but admit it, we all do.

It was a delicious thought that I drifted off to sleep with.

I awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon, my loving Jeffrey was making me breakfast. Before I had a chance to get up and put a robe on, he arrived in our bedroom with a tray – breakfast in bed! Outstanding!

To add to my happiness, Jeff was naked. What woman wouldn’t love breakfast in bed served by her naked husband – or any naked man for that matter?

We chatted happily as I ate. Eventually, our conversation got back to the fantasy revelations of the previous evening. There was much blushing on both sides, but with both of us unable to remove the smirk of satisfaction at our lovemaking from our faces.

It was some of the best sex we’d had in a while, and we were both pretty pleased with ourselves.

“So darling,” I said, “how do you feel this morning about last night’s…discussion?”

“Pretty good, honey,” he said, “You got me completely wild and I just couldn’t get enough of you.”

“Really? Little old me?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned.

“Well dear, what was it exactly, that made you unable to get enough of your haggy old wife?”

“Haggy,” he said, “Is the farthest thing from the truth. You are the definition of ‘MILF’ – a grown woman that every man would want to bed immediately.”

“Thank you kind sir, but my question was what made you so horny?”

He blushed, “The idea of you with another man. You’re so gorgeous and sexy and desireable. You’re too much woman for only one man to satisfy, and you deserve a bigger…. well, a better endowed man… as your lover.”

“Hmmm,” I murmured, “You think I’m attractive to other men? You think they’d want me?”

“Oh, Yeah,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. That made me feel quite nice.

I figured we should get the truth out in the open. No time like the present, and I didn’t want this thing to hang in ‘limbo’ of not being fully understood.

I said, “Jeff, dear, I’m going to ask you a question. And before you answer, you should understand that this is a real question. You’ll be giving a real answer, all fantasies aside. Are you ready?”

“Sure, go ahead honey.”

“Alright, here it goes. Jeffrey, you are my husband, and I want to know if you would actually be agreeable to me, your wife, having sex with another man.”

He thought for a moment, trying to be very serious. He asked, “What kind of man?”

Ah, that’s a good point I thought. “Well, let’s just say that this person, who is not at this time identified, would have to be clean, healthy, intelligent, successful, handsome, courteous, single, and not likely to fall in love with me or anything… and… um… well endowed.”

He smiled at me and leaned over to plant a big wet one on me. That was nice, but I needed to know where we really stood.

I was patient and waited. He said, “Would it be ok if you kept him away from me and vice-versa? I mean, so we would never meet. You’d just go to him and then come back to me and keep us separate…”

“Yes, ok, I suppose that’s best…” I replied, feeling butterflies filling my tummy.

“And I picture in my mind, someone young and athletic – a real jock. A stud. Not some old guy.”

“Sure… Ok….” I was almost panting with anticipation.

“And you would always come back to me, love me, live with me, for the rest of your life, no matter what.”

“Yes, Jeffrey, of course. You’re the man I love.” I truly meant that.

“Then, I think I could handle it. We won’t know for sure unless we try, but I know it makes me aroused to think about it. Even now, talking about it in real seriousness, I’m feeling very excited.”

I pushed the tray aside and laid back the covers, revealing myself in only my negligee top. My panties had disappeared somewhere last night, which made me smirk with satisfaction.

“Show me.” I said.

He was very attentive and aggressive. He really gave me everything he had again. He pounded me with powerful thrusts, and then slid down to lick me to orgasm, and then he was in me again. He made the circuit three times before he came in me. It was just wonderful!

I loved the weight and feel of his muscular body flexing and thrusting on top of me, pressing my breasts and making it hard to breath as he gave me a real banging. And of course, his tongue was magical as always…

When he was coming, I just adored his face. I love looking into his eyes and seeing so deeply into him when he is lost in the throes of his ejaculation – such need and longing and love and tenderness and gratitude and lust and vulnerability. Men are at their best at the moment of coming, I think.

He laid exhausted on top of me as I caressed his cheek and felt him slowly go soft in me. I loved my husband in that moment at least as much as ever in my life. He’d just made glorious, passionate love to me, at the same time as he’d given me his permission, his agreement, that I should seek a lover. After that session, I wasn’t sure I’d need one…

Later that day, while he was out at Home Depot, I searched the internet and really examined the subjects of cuckold, cuckolding, hotwife, milf, and so forth. There was a lot of nasty porn. Don’t try this at home. But scattered about were a few real articles describing the pros and cons of a woman taking a lover, with her husband’s consent, while her husband remained faithful to her.

Cuckolding was like an advanced form of FemDom – Female Domination. I supposed we’d practiced a form of FemDom all our life together, but never a whips-and-chains sort, more of a ‘female-led-marriage’ kind of lifestyle.

It was quite enlightening to know that we were not alone in this cuckolding idea. It was a completely different thing than for a woman to ‘cheat’ on her husband. According to the website articles, cuckolding – with your husband’s consent – wasn’t cheating at all. To ‘cheat’ is to have sex behind your husband’s back without his knowledge and consent. Whereas cuckolding was done together, in a way.

A rationalization, to be sure, but a welcome one nonetheless.

When Jeff got home, I had him look at these articles with me and we discussed them together. Particularly wonderful was an article written by a woman that gave advice on what to do, and more importantly what not to do, when picking a candidate with which a wife would cuckold her husband.

Just the way the subject was addressed was different. A wife didn’t merely ‘have sex with another man’, she ‘cuckolded her husband’. In other words, the focus of the event was about what was happening inside the marriage, not the act done outside.

The husband was becoming his wife’s cuckold. He was participating – not in the sex – but the result of the sex changed the husband. His status was now ‘a cuckold husband’, and his wife’s status was now a ‘hot wife’. Husband and wife were involved together in what happened inside their marriage.

Again, a rationalization. But when you look at it that way, it removes the notion of the wife being a whore or a slut, cheating behind her husband’s back in a seedy motel. She was a powerful woman, spreading her wings sexually for her pleasure, but bringing the experience home to her husband so that they could share their love and excitement about the cuckolding event.

The husband is involved, helping his wife bathe, dress, and get ready for her date. She might call him while she’s out to ‘check in’. She does her ‘hot wife’ thing with her lover, and then goes right back home to her husband to share the adventure. There, husband and wife excitedly relive her night’s activities intimately together, and often leading to great marital sex.

I certainly agreed that merely talking about cuckolding my husband had improved our marital sex in the last 12 hours. Just imagine how a truly cuckolding my Jeffrey could lead to much more and better marital sex because the husband and wife are so completely aroused and lusty because of what she’s just done.

Jeff and I talked about all these things and agreed that, while they were twists of logic and/or specifically targeted view points, we would follow this advice for our first attempt.

I would become a hot wife – a married woman who is available for sex other men.

My Jeffrey would become my cuckold husband – a husband who is willingly supportive of his wife’s sexual freedom and extramarital affairs.

We agreed that we both wanted this, and would do our best to make it a reality. We knew that finding a suitable candidate would be extremely difficult, but that we would be patient. The simple fact that we were actively ‘looking’ for a candidate was keeping us quite excited.

At two o’clock that afternoon, we were back in the sack having hot, sweaty, sex. Yumm! It seemed to me that the plan was working already, without the need to consummate our scheme. But then again, if it weren’t real, it wouldn’t have been so thrilling.

Weeks went by, as we discussed candidates. According to the criterion, we found two actual possibilities, both of which were associated with our jobs.

Jeff had an acquaintance, a salesman from a company in Seattle, who came to town about three times a year on business. I had met Aaron at an industry cocktail mixer last year, and had mentioned to Jeff that I thought he was quite an attractive and cordial man. He was in his late thirties, a clean-cut prep school and ivy league sort of guy – always immaculately dressed.

Jeff said Aaron had complimented him several times on how beautiful his wife was and how fortunate Jeff was to have her. Aaron would be at a conference in a nearby city in six weeks’ time.

Certainly a possible candidate.

I had a similar contact. A salesman for a vendor from Florida, that did business with the hospital, and with whom I dealt now and then on the phone. I only saw him in person annually at a vendor fair in Las Vegas. We had had evening drinks together the last two years, talked into the wee hours of the night, all quite chaste, mind you, but there was definitely a connection and attraction there.

His name was Gregory, and he was a handsome thirty-something man as well. And it just so happened, that the vendor fair was only two weeks away…

Both were good possibilities. They both lived far away, were seemingly clean and healthy, single, attractive, and most importantly, they were both attractive to me.

Jeff insisted that we try to organize a first attempt at the upcoming vendor fair with Gregory, and then if that failed, we’d try for Aaron later. My heart raced just thinking that we were actually going to do this.

Our plan went into action.

I made separate reservations for two rooms, not near each other, at the hotel that was hosting the vendor fair. Jeff would be there, but merely an anonymous man in the hotel. If everything went well, he’d help me get ready for a date with Gregory, and then disappear from the hotel, only returning to his own room after midnight.

I would call him every two hours from the time I went downstairs and let him know what was going on.

I would invite Gregory to my room, have sex, and encourage him to be a gentleman and leave. Then I would call Jeff and he would come to my room and… comfort me.

The next couple weeks, we worked on adding bits and pieces to my wardrobe to make it perfect for seducing an unsuspecting man. We had sex like bunnies every night. We were nervous as hell. But we were in it together.

The weekend of the fair came and we drove to Las Vegas in my car. We checked into the beautiful strip hotel separately, as I had dropped Jeff off at the hotel next door. He would have a drink, and then walk over and check in an hour later.

That Friday night was the ‘welcome mixer’ and I dressed to kill in a businesslike way with my Jeffrey’s help. He bathed me, shaved my legs, and helped me choose each item of clothing. We were both panting and nervous and we hugged and kissed a lot until I got my makeup on.

My skirt was just a half inch shorter, the slit a half inch higher, the heels of my black pumps were 4″, the blouse was lacy and see through, and even with the jacket buttoned, it was open wide enough to make out my lacy white bra under the sheer lace blouse.

I wore a matching white lace thong and garter belt to hold up my dark thigh-high hose.

I took a deep breath, kissed my husband goodbye, and rushed down to the mixer, leaving Jeff to clean up my room and then leave the hotel.

I found Gregory in the first ten minutes. I casually ‘found’ him, and we had several drinks together while catching up on old times. Greg asked me to have dinner with him when the party was winding down, and much to his delight, I accepted.

I went to the ladies’ room and called Jeff’s cell phone to let him know what was happening.

“He kept sliding his eyes down from my face to my boobs,” I said excitedly. “I can tell he’s as interested as ever. He asked me to dinner last year and I declined, and he was surprised and happy that I accepted tonight.”

Jeff’s voice was caught in his throat when he said, “Wow, it’s really moving ahead, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said, not hiding my glee. “And he looks so handsome in his blue suit and tie. The color really makes his baby blues show up nicely. I’ve gotta go and I’ll call you after dinner.”

“Ok, honey,” Jeff said. He sounded as nervous as me.

I checked my makeup in the mirror, and took a good look at the lacy bra which I could see through my sheer lace blouse. I decided I could undo just one more button on the blouse and be a bit more enticing.

Temptress. Enticing Femme Fatale. That’s me.

I giggled.

Back at the table, I think Greg noticed the undone button right away but he didn’t say anything. We talked about business, life, stuff, all the while drinking a gorgeous red wine to go with our steaks. I enjoyed talking to him while his eyes were studying my cleavage. It just made me feel very sexy.

After dinner, a band struck up, and we had a nice slow dance together. I let my body slowly melt into Greg’s during the course of the dance. Not slutty, just friendly. But by the end of the dance, we were connected shoulders to hips. It was quite a thrill.

I had to keep breathing deeply and make myself relax to keep from shivering with nervous energy. I wanted to be calm and sexy, not a frightened naughty girl. I was a hot wife, I was available. I tried to keep from anxiously playing with my engagement ring and wedding band.

We had some more wine and danced a couple times more. Greg started asking me about things at home and I mentioned that they were pretty boring, and that I was happy to be away at this conference for a whole weekend. This was what Jeff and I agreed that I was to say.

I was immediately embarrassed when I added, “after all, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” Did I say that? That was kind of slutty. Luckily, Greg just chuckled and brushed it aside. Or so I thought.

It was about ten-thirty when I looked at my watch and slurred a bit more than I needed to when I said, “I suppose I should head to my room…” I left a question in my tone, just at the end. Bait the hook and throw the line.

“I suppose so,” said Greg, only half-cheerfully. “Unless you might be interested in a nightcap up in my room before retiring?” There was a weak hopefulness in his voice that was expecting defeat.

His facial expression changed in a heartbeat, when I answered, “Well, I don’t know…” and then I added, “but how about you come have a nightcap in my room?”

He was like a child at Christmas, and it made me blush.

I’ve never seen a man chase down a waitress that fast and throw money at her.

In no time at all I was on his arm leaving the restaurant. In the lobby, I begged permission to freshen up in the ladies’ room again, which he graciously granted.

In the ladies’, I called Jeff. “We’re going up to my room for a night cap!” I said excitedly and probably too loud.

“Oh, man,” moaned Jeff, “you’re amazing! You’re driving me nuts!”

“Thank you sir,” I said, “You know honey, I won’t be able to call you again until Greg leaves, and, um, well you know..”

“I understand, honey,” he said, “I want you to have fun and take your time. You know I won’t sleep until I’m in your arms again.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” I said, “and I’m looking forward to calling you and inviting you to come to me. And Jeffrey, I think you’re a very naughty boy for being excited about this. And you know what happens to naughty boys…”

“Yes, dear,” he said with a shiver in his voice.

Whenever Jeff has been good for me, I use him simply being a ‘naughty boy’ as an excuse to give him a spanking. I knew the experience of being cuckolded by his loving wife would bring out his submissive feelings to a completely new level. He was already deeply that way. To let him know he may be in for a spanking on top of it would make him just crazy.

I smiled into the phone, “I love you,” I said.

“I love you too,” he said.

Before leaving the bathroom, I slipped into a stall and used my phone camera. I pulled up the front of my skirt and took a picture that showed my stockings, garters, and panties, and emailed it to Jeff. I wrote a caption, “What Greg will see soon… Love, Katie”

As I turned the phone off, I felt wickedly sensual. I was a hot wife.

I strolled into the lobby, looking as good as ever, and there was sexy Greg, waiting for me. I took his arm once more as we walked toward the elevators.

Here goes, I thought, feeling my heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings…

The elevator was filled with anxious silence. I held onto Greg’s arm, trying not to faint from mental and emotional overload.

Was I doing this? Really? Would Jeff react well? Or was this a big mistake?

Oh, my God, I thought, what if this blows my marriage up?

Or, what if Greg has a drink and never makes a move? That would be most disappointing, to say the least. It would also be devastating, emotionally, and probably land me in therapy.

I love my husband, and having gone this far, I realized the only way out of this mess was to go through with it. I tried to comfort myself by reviewing the thousand times I’d given Jeff a chance to put on the brakes with this whole cuckolding thing.

When the elevator door opened, I started. I came out of my reverie and realized that we were standing still in the hallway. Greg was waiting for me to lead him to my room, since he didn’t know where it was.

I smiled up at him and walked slowly down the hall toward my door.

I nervously fumbled for the key. The door opened and closed. We were inside. Together.

I was in a hotel room with a handsome man who was not my husband. How awkward for both of us.

After a moment of standing there, looking blankly at Greg, and feeling like a fool, I said something.

“How about that drink?” Oh, God, I think that was from a movie or something.

“Sure, that would be great,” said Greg, still as a fence post.

I went to the bar and got two of those little bottles of vodka and a can of orange juice. I made two screwdrivers. That is the upper limit of my ability as a bar tender, since I seldom drink cocktails and have no knowledge of how to make ‘sex on the beach’, or a ‘slippery nipple’.

Pathetic, I know.

Greg was very much a gentleman, taking his drink happily and pretending I had done a good job.

I decided to take off the jacket, revealing the sheer blouse. Greg smiled and said, “Wow, you look great.”

That was just what I needed to hear to feel more myself. I am a sexy woman, damn it.

I sauntered over to him and helped him off with his coat and loosened his tie, “You should be more comfortable too, Greg,” I purred. I let that feline vibe come through with both barrels, and he definitely noticed, putting his arm around me, low across my waist.

I looked up at him, waiting in invitation.

He kissed me and I returned the kiss, filling it with soft promises and the hint of a sigh as my body melted against his. I put my arms up around his neck, letting him feel my breasts press fully against his strong chest.

I was putting out the message. If you want me tonight, you can have me.

It seemed to work because Greg put out a message too.

He wrapped both arms around my back, held me tight to his body, and licked against my lips as we kissed. My mouth opened, beckoning, and he entered me with his tongue. Mine danced against his enticingly, egging him on and he continued to increase the passion, actually letting a small rumble sound in his chest.

How manly. It was very sexy. I swooned more fully, giving him more of my weight.

The room was small, there was only a chair, a table, and a bed. We both couldn’t fit on a chair, could we?

Of course not. Greg helped me to sit on the bed with him, still wrapped in his arms.

I do enjoy kissing, and we kissed for a long time. I was happy to oblige. I was even happier when I felt his hands caressing up and down my back and sides as he kissed me. It felt really good.

I fought not to tense up when one of his hands began to slide closer and closer to my breast, finally brushing gently against the edge of my bra cup before sliding away again.

He did it a few times, and each time I tried to reward his eagerness by going ever softer in his arms. I’m yours if you want me, I was signaling, go ahead and feel my breast…

His hand covered my left boob and squeezed softly. I responded my kissing him more passionately, and he took the hint.

Greg’s hand moved to unbutton my blouse, and I didn’t stop him. I just kept kissing.

It was so exciting to have this virtual stranger beginning to undress me. He kissed me strongly, holding me tight as he pulled my blouse out of the waist of my skirt. His hand found the front hook of my bra and began fumbling there.

I willed the clasp to open before the spell was broken. Eureka, it did! My boobs fell out of the cups easily as Greg brushed them aside. His hand was warm against my soft flesh, it felt so good to have naked breasts with this man and to have him feel me up.

Oooh, and he played with my nipple and I couldn’t help but gasp in pleasure, thereby breaking the kiss.

He took that opportunity to begin kissing my ear, and my throat as he continued to gently but firmly have his way with my breasts. I moaned softly in his ear each time he rolled a nipple in his fingers, or he rubbed his teeth against my neck.

This man was a pretty good lover, it occurred to me. He was treating me like a delicate bowl of fruit not to be bruised, but to be slowly eaten with great relish. I swooned more, holding tight around his neck as he fondled and pleasured my breasts and nipples.

I was already feeling very moist between my thighs when his hand left my breasts and started to slide up my thigh. I knew the skirt was too tight for this maneuver and I pulled away from him without letting go of his neck.

I was pleased with the lusty look in his eyes as they drank in my naked breasts and nipples, revealed by my roughly opened blouse.

“Greg,” I whispered, drawing his eyes reluctantly up to mine. “Let me go to the powder room a moment…”

He nodded and helped me to stand. I wobbled into the bathroom on my heels, feeling drunk though I was certainly not. I softly closed the door behind me and leaned on the sink, gazing into the mirror.

I saw a woman with that bedroom look in her lidded eyes, relaxed and sensual. Her blouse was open as was her bra, revealing her heavy breasts freely hanging on her chest, nipples erect.

Without further thought, I removed the blouse and bra, tossing them on the floor. I unzipped the skirt letting it pool at my ankles and stepping out of it. I looked again in the mirror. I looked great.

They were uncomfortable, but I left the shoes on, knowing that men like it and that I’d be off my feet soon enough. I smiled at that.

I took the terrycloth robe and put it on, tying the sash at my waist and then I opened the door and walked out into the room.

Greg was sitting as I had left him, looking at me with intense eyes, not unkind, just very very interested.

I sat down on the bed with him and took his chin gently in my hand to talk to him.

“Greg,” I said softly, “If we are to go further, we must have an understanding.”

He nodded, waiting.

“We are not going to fall in love. I am a married woman, and you will be going home to Tampa when the fair is over.”

He nodded again, “yes…” he muttered.

“So, this is just a one-time thing for us, a weekend of fun. Just friends with benefits, you and I. Can you handle that, Greg?”

He leaned forward and kissed me softly, “I can more than handle that, Katie,” he said, “I’d be honored to be your friend, just for the weekend…”

“Tomorrow, we’re all about business. Do you understand? We both have reputations to care for, and there may never be another night like tonight.”

“I completely understand and agree,” he said warmly, “Don’t worry about me, I won’t follow you home.” And then he quickly added, “Not that I wouldn’t want to, because you are a completely awesome woman…”

I smiled at his compliment, “Well thank you, Greg, that’s nice to hear. But we understand each other then?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, giving the boy scout salute, “I promise.”

I smiled and kissed him, and then I laid back with my head on the pillow and hands at my sides. I looked at him coyly. “Well?” I said.

He stood and took off his tie, kicked off his shoes, nearly ripped off his shirt and dropped his pants. My goodness, he seemed to be in a hurry. I saw that he was nicely muscular, and he wore a pair of cute white briefs.

I was most pleasantly surprised. The front of his briefs had a very pronounced pouch, almost like a jock strap, and it was clearly full to the brim. Nearly overflowing. Sure, he had the beginnings of an erection, but his genitals were full and plump.

They seemed rather big to me. How exciting.

I could feel my vagina moistening even more, preparing to accommodate a nice big penis. I wondered if my panties would be soaked by the time Greg got to see them.

Oh, my. Greg only stood there a moment, letting me look at him. Then he removed his socks and quickly pushed his briefs down. He kicked them off as he stood up.

Oh, yes. Now that’s a cock, I thought. I’m sure my face was grinning as I ogled his penis. It looked thick. It was throbbing. The head seemed impossibly fat and a very imposing dark pink color. The shaft was lengthening as I watched, and I’m no expert, but he was surely more than an inch longer than my husband.

He stepped up to the side of the bed, making his big penis wiggle, and he undid my sash and pushed the sides of my robe apart so he could look at my body.

I was torn between watching the reaction on his face and the throbbing of his penis, so my eyes kept darting back and forth.

He was so manly and determined. He eyed me up and down twice, and then his hands went to the waistband of my thong and he pulled it down. I lifted my bottom to help him, and he slipped the panties right off my ankles, roughly taking my pumps with them.

My goodness, so aggressive. He pushed my thighs firmly apart, and I let my legs spread for him.

I hadn’t realized what that would feel like. It sent shivers up my spin to spread my thighs for a man that was not my husband. It made me feel vulnerable like never before, butterflies flipped in my tummy and I could feel the lips of my pussy spread open for him.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and my heart raced with pride. He liked what he saw. He wanted me. I am a hot wife about to have sex with another man.

I’m sure he could see how wet I was for him. It was embarrassing and I almost tried to close my thighs, but instead I willed myself to raise my knees instead as he climbed between my legs.

He scooted up and put one hand near my shoulder to support his weight, and with the other hand he took hold of my left hip very possessively. Again, I felt those shivers, and I reached for his penis.

Oh God it felt huge in my hand. So stiff. So much girth. So powerful. So… just… well… big.

I wanted it.

I was so wet that when I guided the head of his cock to my entrance, he pressed forward and it just slid right in at least half way.

Oooooohhhhh. It felt so thick, spreading me open, forcing me to part before him like a river against a rock. A big rock. A soft “Ugh..” slipped from my lips and he smiled.

“Easy,” I begged breathlessly, panting.

He nodded and slid back until just the head was in me. He paused, letting me breath a moment, then he slowly pressed forward again.

My head rolled side to side and my fingers gripped the bedcover as I felt his big penis push in farther than the last time.

He stopped, giving me time to regain control. I could feel my vagina gripping his cock involuntarily. I breathed deep and loud. “Wow,” I whispered.

He slowly withdrew to the crown of his head again, giving me space to breath. I felt his hands on my knees which he gently pressed up toward my chest until my feet were off the bed.

I opened my eyes to see his face. He whispered, “ready?”

I nodded, completely unsure if that was the right answer. Then he pressed forward before I had a chance to change my mind.

“Oooohhh…. Ahhhhhh… Urghhhhh….” I was not eloquent in my gasps and moans as I felt him push in. I felt like fertile soil opened by the plough. He penetrated deeply. He went to the depth my husband could reach and pressed on deeper.

Oh, it felt so good when his pubic bone pressed down against my erect and aching clitoris that I almost had an orgasm right then.

I hadn’t thought about having an orgasm. I never had an orgasm during intercourse with my husband. But as Greg slowly began to slide in and out, giving me gentle thrusts so I could get used to him, I knew that the length and thickness of his cock would make me come soon enough.

As he thrust slowly in and out, starting to get a rhythm, I could feel the flesh of my pussy being stretched and moved by his wonderful penis. When he thrust in, my clinging labia seemed to follow, and when he pulled out, they rolled out with him.

All of this created a lot of movement around my clitoris, keeping it stimulated, and then when his pubic bone pressed down, it was just amazing.

I was starting to pant again and I put my arms on his strong shoulders. He put both his hands down on either side of my breasts squeezing his wrists against my ribs, sort of holding me still as my breasts bounced against his forearms.

His hips began to piston more and more, becoming stronger with each thrust. I felt pummeled, and used, and banged by this man as he pleasured his cock inside me.

He was going faster and faster. Bang bang bang bang against my body, driving me down into the mattress. I felt helplessly lost as I moaned in pleasure, and squealed with renewed awe and surprise whenever he gave me a particularly powerful thrust.

His cock felt gorgeous as it plunged again and again into my body, taking over all my conscious thought and replacing it with a single minded focus on the sensations his penis forced my vagina to experience.

In. Out. In. Out.

Oh God, he was like a fucking machine, relentlessly fucking me and I could not escape even if I wanted to.

He grunted and gasped and grunted like an animal as he forced his incredibly stiff cock into me again and again.

I had the passing thought that he might ejaculate soon. I was torn with the desire to let him come in me. Really take me. Possess me with his cock. But at the same time, I knew I was clean, and I thought he was clean, but maybe allowing him to spurt his semen deep inside me was a bad idea.

I should have though more about that earlier….

Then my attention was drawn again as he pulled up to sit on his haunches, leaving his cock buried in me to the hilt. He began to wiggle his hips, which served to remind me how much thicker his penis was that what I was used to.

It felt good to feel his girth magnified by the circular motions. My hips started to writhe in their new found freedom of movement.

Then he did the most wonderful thing.

Through half closed eyes, I watched him lick his thumb, and then he put his hand on my abdomen with his thumb right on the engorged bud of my clitoris.

The contact was shockingly erotic and felt sooooooo good.

Then he started to wiggle his thumb right on my clit. OH, MY, GOD.

The feeling of intense clitoral stimulation, combined with the feeling of such an enormous cock in me, made me come.

I went from very aroused to the throes of orgasm in one beat of my heart.

I was bucking and grinding against his hand and his cock, my limbs flailing, my face contorted and rolling side to side. I was screaming “Yessss! Yesss! Yesss! Yesss!” as I came and came and came.

He was relentless with his thumb, pressing, sliding, wiggling, so wet and smooth and wonderful. He made me come again and again.

Oh such a big cock, ooooh my clitoris, oh big cock, oh, oh, oh, cock, cock, cock. So big and stiff!

Finally I collapsed, a sweating, tormented, spent, willing slave of this man’s penis. I was barely aware that he had begun to thrust in me slowly again.

It felt good.

I wanted him to keep fucking me with that big cock. It felt so right, to be fucked.

“Hmmmm,” I murmured in contentment, wallowing in the afterglow of my orgasms. I would be content to lay like that for the next thousand years, being continually well fucked by this gorgeous hunk of a man.

After some time, I sort of came-to, and looked up at him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” I whispered, happily.

“How do you want me to come?” he whispered.

I never realized that he hadn’t come yet. I was at once surprised with myself at not keeping track, and impressed with his ability to fuck me silly without filling me with his semen.


I toyed with the idea, but I knew it would be far safer not to let him spurt inside me. I was not at a fertile place in my cycle, but still…

I think he could tell I was not able to make a decision. I think my temporary delirium made him happy.

He slowly withdrew from me and a whimper escaped my lips. Suddenly I felt empty, and it was sad.

When his penis was out, he scooted up closer between my thighs so that his cock stood out over my closely groomed patch, and reached nearly to my navel. I could feel his heavy testicles resting against the puffy, tired, and well-satisfied folds of my pussy lips.

I watched, delighted, as his hand took hold of his glistening wet shaft and began to stroke.

“Would you like to watch me come on you?” he whispered with real need in his voice.

“I’d like that very much,” I said, smiling warmly.

He rubbed his penis firmly with great urgency, and he began to gasp and grunt at the building pleasure.

I was mesmerized by the sight of his swollen pink head as it glistened at me, half disappearing and then reappearing as his hand went up and down.

The tip of his penis was pointing right at me. I couldn’t wait to see his first spurt of semen come to me, anoint me, please me.

With a guttural moan, he gave me his semen. A full, strong spurt out into the valley between my breasts. Another across my left nipple, how amazing. Another spurt landed on the lower slope of my right breast, and I could feel it warmly sliding down to my chest.

He gave me three more spurts, not as powerful, but each one no less appreciated as he coated my belly with his sensual offering. At last, he milked a few last dribbles that fell delightfully into my belly button, and he was finished.

He put his wet hand on my hip and slid it down my thigh to leave me every last drop on my skin. I smiled up at him with real pleasure in my eyes.

“Thank you, Greg,” I cooed softly, as I caressed his arm, “That was really more wonderful than I can tell you.”

He flipped onto his back next to me, fully spent and exhausted. “You are so sexy,” he said, “I’m the one thanking you for a truly amazing time.”

We both lay there, happy and content with our lovemaking. I had a very stretched and used feeling between my now tightly-closed thighs, which warmed my tummy wonderfully. I could also feel every drop of his semen on my body. Breasts, tummy, thigh.

I couldn’t help but find my hands begin to casually rub his juices all over my skin before they could accidentally drip off of me. I didn’t want to lose any of my prize.

After a suitable time of comfortably lying next to each other in content silence, Greg spoke.

“I suppose I should be going…”

“Yes, that’s best, Greg.”

He got up, slipped into the bathroom for a moment, and then returned and dressed. In the meantime, I closed my robe against the chill of cooling off from a sweaty romp.

When he was dressed, he paused to kiss me chastely, and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, you gorgeous, fabulous, amazing woman.”

I smiled and nodded, “See you tomorrow, you handsome hunk.”

He closed the door softly as I picked up my cell phone from the nightstand and dialed my husband.

He answered on the first ring.

“Come to me,” I said breathlessly, and hung up.

I curled up on my side and snuggled into the pillow, smiling at all the tingling sensations still emanating from my pussy, and the sticky feeling of semen on my breasts and elsewhere.

Hot wife. My goodness, I suppose it’s true now, I thought.

I awoke the next morning slowly. I felt the familiar arm of my husband, wrapped safely around me with his hand cupping a breast. A awoke like this very often, and it felt homey and comfortable.

And then it hit me. I was in Vegas. At the vendor fair. In a hotel. I looked at the clock and it read seven-fifteen. The sun was shining through the drapes. I should get up.

Then I felt it. A puffiness. A little soreness, some tingling in my…

Oh, my God!

I let Greg fuck me last night!

I lay still in abject confusion as my brain began to boot up and my IQ began to rise above room temperature.

Cuckolding. My husband. Las Vegas. That nice man Greg. My room.

It flooded back. Greg has a big cock.

I couldn’t keep the grin off of my face.

I slipped out from under the covers, and found myself naked. No robe, no garters, no stockings.

All my clothes were neatly folded on the chair.

I looked at my husband, sound asleep and filling half the bed and then some. I smiled. I loved him very much.

I tiptoed into the bathroom and finding myself with dried semen all over me, I giggled like a school girl. I relieved myself and decided I shouldn’t take a shower just yet.

When I emerged naked the bathroom, my husband was awake with his head propped up on his hand, grinning at me. I was relieved that he was smiling happily, not that I really expected otherwise, but it was good.

Jeff said, “So, you delicious wench, how’d it go last night?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” I said coyly. I imagined I’d have to humor my husband by letting him examine my body, and then fuck my brains out all morning. Oh, well, what’s a girl to do? I gave him my ‘devastating temptress 3000’ sultry smile.

“As a matter of fact, yes I would,” he pouted.

I hopped playfully into the bed and under the covers. As I did this, I noticed that I had some stiffness in my hip joints and a general ‘well banged’ feeling in my hip girdle. My, my, I guess a girl needs recovery time after being so well fucked by a well hung stud…

I reached for and found my husband’s genitals and started feeling him up with gusto.

In a little baby voice, I teased my husband. “Does my sweet little cuckold want to hear all about his wife’s lover?”

He kissed me and said, “Quit stalling, gorgeous, and tell me all about your adventure.”

“Our adventure,” I corrected.

“Yes, dear, our adventure.”

Such a good boy.

I told him every detail, feeling his penis become stiff in my hand. When I finished with the phone call I made from the bed, I let him continue the story.

He told me that I was fast asleep with a naughty grin on my face. He had gently undressed me, tucked me in, and joined me. He admitted that he’d assumed the stickiness he encountered on my skin was from Greg’s semen.

He wanted to know if that was the only place I had allowed Greg to come, which I confirmed.

And now here we were, naked in bed, and I really should be getting down to the fair.

I decided that I should call a colleague from another vendor that works a lot with the hospital, and tell them I had a migraine and wouldn’t attend the morning session, but I hoped to see them after lunch.

My husband and I spent the next four hours consummating his new position as my cuckold husband, and mine as the hot wife.

Since he’s not so well endowed as Greg, it was comfortable for me except when he pounded me hard. But I endured, as a good wife should, smiling all the way. I love my husband.

I especially loved him when he would pause from banging me to slide down between my thighs. He was so gentle as he licked me lovingly, knowing that I might be sore and need more tenderness than stimulation.

My Jeffrey came in me twice, and licked me to orgasm twice. All slowly, carefully, lovingly. He’s my favorite man in the universe!

When he couldn’t give me any more, we snuggled and dozed happily.

I attended the rest of the fair, on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning. I made love with Greg again Saturday night and after a long lovemaking session, I let him come in my mouth. It was at least as good as the night before, but I was really getting sore from all the attention of my two boys that weekend.

Sunday morning I made passionate love again with Jeff, and that afternoon when I was packing, I let Greg visit my room one last time.

Greg took me from behind then, and it was supposed to just be a quickie as he bent me over with my elbows on the bed. He flipped my skirt up and lowered my panties and I felt so deliciously naughty as I was determined to let him pleasure himself in me before I took him into my mouth to ejaculate one last time.

But some plans don’t work out, exactly. He soon turned me into a screaming banshee because he felt so much bigger with my thighs tight together, and he penetrated me so deeply from that angle. We kind of went wild with each other lost control.

I was near the end of my second orgasm when I suddenly heard Greg growl and I felt added warmth and lubrication fill my vagina.

Oh, oh, oh, oh.

Greg was coming inside me, and it was so wild that I had could find no willpower to try to stop it.

His powerful hands were locked tight on my hips and he just pounded into me as he came and came in me, filling me up with his semen as I gasped in helpless shock.

I felt so juicy and slippery inside when he finally pulled his penis out of me, and I just flopped down onto the bed with my beleaguered brain trying to make sense of what had just happened.

He kissed me on the cheek, and said, “I’m so sorry, Katie, I just couldn’t help it. You just make me crazy and I couldn’t control myself…”

He didn’t know what else to say, and he caressed my back and kissed my neck a few more times, before he fled. I sort of appreciated what he had said, since I had to admit I felt the same way.

I knew my cycle, and I wasn’t worried about pregnancy. I also believed that Greg was what he seemed, a clean cut healthy young man. It turns out that my assumptions were true, as this happened several years ago and I had neither a child with Greg nor an STD.

Anyway, Greg left and there I was, laying face down on the bed with my skirt up and my panties around my knees, wet semen on my inner thighs and the lips of my pussy. That’s when Jeff walked in.

He stood motionless and silent for what seemed like several minutes, but was probably only seconds.

He walked to the bed and helped me up.

I whispered, “Greg just left…”

“I know,” said my husband.

I stood shakily, holding his shoulders for support as he squatted down and started pulling my panties up. He paused a moment to stare right at my puffy pussy, wet with semen, before he pulled my panties all the way up.

I thought I should clean up, be Jeff said we needed to check out of my room. We walked down the hallway, and I felt such a flood of conflicting emotions.

Guilt, worry, fear, versus sensuality, seductiveness, and pride.

Each step felt so squishy as Greg’s semen continued to seep out of me, soak my panties, and run down my inner thighs. He must have come a lot, I mused.

My Jeffrey quickly had me checked out and into my car, and he was driving us home.

I worried about staining the back of my dress and the leather seat of my Lexus, but Jeff said I shouldn’t do anything. We’d have the stains as memories of our sexiest weekend ever.

To this day, I see the stain on the passenger seat of my Lexus and think I could never sell or trade the car in.

We talked on the way home and Jeff admitted that he was happy to find me in my room freshly filled with my lover’s semen. He said that, for me to allow Greg to come in me, made the cuckolding weekend complete for him, and that sore or not, I was going to get some serious attention when we got home.

Jeff let me have a shower before he had his way with me upon our arrival home. That was nice of him.

Since that weekend, we settled back into a more normal life, with me firmly in charge as always. But we love to reminisce about ‘Vegas’ and the ‘cuckold weekend’.

I see Greg at the annual vendor fair, and Jeff doesn’t accompany me to Vegas anymore, it’s just me and Greg in one room.

I have had two other lovers over the years since, and one of them I see more than once a month.

Jeff and I have far more intense sex than at any previous time in our marriage, so we both think this whole ‘cuckold’ thing has worked well to the advantage of our marriage. It is a secret that we do not share with others under any circumstances, and we take great care to keep the secret safe.

I suppose that completes the tale of how I cuckolded my husband, who I love more deeply now than ever.

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