This is a novel of twenty-five chapters. I suggest you begin reading at Chapter 1. The novel deals with hotwifeing and cuckoldry. If those are subjects you aren’t interested in, you may reconsider reading this.??Please read my statement regarding anonymous comments in my biography.
It would turn out that we wouldn’t see Mark again for over two months. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to get together, just the opposite, but we got busy, then he did, then vacations hit and Mark had to go to Europe for business, and there simply wasn’t a time. There were a few occasions that Mark and Molly could have met by themselves, Molly decided not to. “I think it’s just as well that we let it cool down, dear. It got a so intense that weekend, I scared myself a little.”
Nearly every day, we’d get one or two enquires on SLS. After consulting with Molly, I figured out a procedure to handle them. First we changed our profile to state that we were only accepting very select males and providing a template for emails: they must be polite, spelling would be graded, we didn’t need to know the size of the tool, simply the man’s height and weight, age must be over 40. I told them we preferred men over five feet ten, but it wasn’t a hard and fast rule.
Most of the guys didn’t bother to read our desires, if I got a note that was obviously out of the ballpark, I’d flash out an answer, ‘thank you but no.’ If they didn’t respect our reply, they got blocked so they couldn’t email us further.
We had other proclivities that I paid attention to. If the man was not a paid member, I was immediately suspicious; it wasn’t impossible to get past that barrier, but I figured that if he wasn’t serious enough to lay a couple of bucks down, he might not be real. If the man said he was married, but the woman didn’t play, he was immediately rejected as a probable fake.
And lastly, I very much preferred a profile that had pictures in which we could get an idea of the look of the man. A facial picture got extra credit, a picture of the man’s supposed assets got a demerit. If that was the only picture, he was rejected.
With the restrictions, I received only a few a month that I felt were worth presenting to Molly. She’d take a day or two, then would give me permission or not to continue correspondence. When I did, I looked for signs of impatience, many men wanted us to meet at the drop of a hat. If three or four emails went by and the man was still gentle and polite, I’d report back to Molly. This winnowed the herd down to about one per week that I talked to Molly about, perhaps two, often none. Molly sometimes looked at the site without me, interested in what I was going through, perhaps fantasizing, although she never tried to overrule me or suggest I look at that one a little harder. She let me run the show.
When I’d show a profile to Molly, she’d look at the entire situation, what the man had on his profile, his pictures, certifications from other people, and the emails that went back and forth. And then, more often than not, she’d reject the guy. Sometimes she had a good reason, but other times I was baffled by her elimination. “It just doesn’t feel right, dear,” she’d explain.
Our own sex life was at a high. Before Molly became a hotwife, we’d get it on maybe five or six times a month, and mostly it was a simple release of accumulated pressures, lasting ten minutes or less. Now we were banging at least three times a week, and we seemed more interested in pleasing each other. Sometimes we’d make love for a half hour, it would seemingly be over, then we’d start talking about a past or possibly future escapade, and we’d start going again. Molly’s orgasms seemed to last longer and mine were more powerful.
July, hot and still, was morphing into August. We’d been to a party on a Saturday night, six couples, dinner, talk late into the night. The gentlemen had been enamored with Molly, she’d been her usual self, gay and not afraid to touch a man during a conversation. I’d let myself have one or two glasses of wine too many, and Molly decided she’d better drive home. On the way, she told me, “Hey, guess what Stan did tonight? He got me alone in a bedroom, and kissed me.”
“He did! Stan?” Stan and Liz were old friends of ours, fifteen years at least. “What did you do?”
“Oh, I let him kiss me, kissed him back, he was a little slobbery, and then he reached for my teat. I let him cop a feel through my dress, but when he tried to go a little further, I stopped him with the ‘what are we going to tell Liz and Don, this is a really bad idea’ line. He was as drunk as you are, but he got the idea, we came back out to all of you.”
“Wow. Would you ever think about doing it with him?”
“I always thought he was pretty good looking, if things were different . . . well, I’m never going to let myself be alone with him again, an affair like that could really mess things up.”
When we got home, we tried to make love, but I’d had too much to drink, it wouldn’t work right, and I had to settle for helping her as she beylikdüzü escort used a vibrator to bring herself off.
The next morning she came back to bed sometime after ten, her breath tasted of coffee, mine probably tasted of the sewer. She laid with me, her hand was on my peter, which now decided to be just fine. “I’m horny,” she announced.
“Climb on,” I offered.
“Nope. You were bad last night.”
“You were the one who kissed Stan.”
“Um, hmm. So I had the chance to be good with two guys last night, but neither one worked.” Yeah, she had a point there.
“So you’re horny, but I’m not getting any. That doesn’t seem right.”
“It isn’t,” she teased, “when you put it that way. But what if we get one of the guys you’ve been emailing to come over and make me unhorny?” My dick got even harder. We put the plan into place. I was chatting with three potential men on SLS at the time, Molly would send out invitations for that afternoon or evening to all three, if anyone could play, there would be fun for all.
By the time I’d pulled myself together, taken ibuprofen, and ingested my second cup of coffee, she’d sent out the feelers. One of the guys had other plans, he was sorry, and as we were finishing the crossword puzzle, the computer went ‘ding!’ and we got a response from Eric, he had the whole day free. After a couple of emails back and forth, it was decided we’d meet him at the Bleu Turtle in two hours, he’d be at the bar wearing a green shirt. Molly was excited, I helped her take a shower, and played with her clit until she was nearly at the point of fulmination, then I stopped.
“Bastard,” she playfully complained, to which I responded, “You’re all the more ready for Eric.”
She serioused up, “There’s a chance we won’t like him, dear, you know that, don’t you?”
“That’ll be more your problem than mine,” I joked. “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll just come back and screw. I’ll get mine, but you’ll only get one guy.”
“That’ll be fine,” she promised.
She got into tailored shorts and a polo shirt, no bra, made herself up, marginally more seductive than she would be if we were just having lunch, and we got to the restaurant a few minutes early, sat at the almost empty bar, in a few minutes we were joined by Eric, six foot one, shorts, shirt, smile. I watched the two of them give each other the once over, figured from their body language that there was some initial attraction, we got a booth, he across the table from us. We ordered lunch and drinks, the conversation was conservative, safe. He was forty-three, divorced four years, a sixteen year old daughter that didn’t have much time for her dad anymore. He lived in a two bedroom apartment, had a male roommate, worked for a wireless company as a technician, enjoyed tennis, but didn’t have a regular person to play with. Molly asked if he had a good drop shot, the first innuendo, he said it was okay but it needed work, Molly suggested she help him with it. The only drawback I saw was that Eric didn’t have the most athletic body in the world, a bit of a paunch, but I thought his blond, well coiffed hair might make up for it.
After we’d finished our lunches, he got up for a few moments to go to the men’s room. I looked at Molly with a question. “He’s okay,” she analyzed, “not the most handsome man in the world, but he’ll do. I’m truly horny! Monkey?”
“Monkey,” I agreed. I was pretty horny too.
When he got back, Molly checked to see that no one was in earshot, and asked, “Eric, have you ever been in a threesome before?”
“No,” he admitted, “but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Well,” she offered, “if you’re up for it, maybe today’s your lucky day. I know I’m older than you . . .”
“Oh, you’re beautiful,” he exclaimed.
“Thank you. We’ve been in a few threesomes, both Don and I like them. He likes watching me, maybe joining in after awhile. Would that be all right with you?”
“I’m not gay or anything,” he nervously sputtered.
“Neither am I,” I countered, “Molly will be the center of attraction for both of us.”
“Well then,” he answered, “I guess I’m up for it whenever you guys are.”
“Right now,” Molly offered, “if you’ve got the time.”
He did. We arranged that he’d follow us to our house.
After the thirteen minute drive, we were in the kitchen, Molly poured us all a glass of iced tea, when she handed Eric’s glass to him, their hands touched, Molly stroked his finger. Eyes were locked, smiles exchanged, Molly stretched her face for the first brief kiss. “We could give you the whole house tour,” she offered, “or we could just head straight for the bedroom.” When she wanted to, Molly could be very direct. Eric opted for the bedroom, Molly took his hand and led him down the hall, I followed.
In the bedroom Molly was the aggressor, leading him to the sacrificial bed, lips met, they were half reclining against the headboard. I dragged a chair into position four feet from the side of the bed. As quickly beyoğlu escort as I’d ever seen Molly work with a man, his hand was on her teat, then she pulled her shirt off, his lips were at her breast. She unzipped his shorts, pulled the waistband apart, and she had her hand inside his boxers, holding the object of her hunger. His hand went to her groin, she unfastened her shorts and pulled them and her panties off in one motion, I observed my wife’s beautiful, naked body.
Every so often Eric would look to me, I’d just smile, let him know everything was fine, Molly constantly checked my temperature. In a few moments, Eric’s final bits of clothing were thrown from the bed, I could see his tool, perfectly straight, a bit thick, uncircumcised. As always, it excited me to think that thing would soon attack my lovely woman. Molly knelt above him, began her routine, pulling back the foreskin, tasting the thick fluid beginning to drip from the tiny hole, fondling the testicles, swallowing the rod. I stood, disposed of my own clothing, and travelled to the other side of the bed, where I could see Molly’s rump in the air, her fleshy labia surrounding the barely open slit below the smaller hole above. I let my hand descend onto her rump, appreciated the smooth skin, then gently traversed the geography, feeling every inch of her butt and the back of her upper thighs, until finally the hole was reached, I inserted a finger and massaged her g-spot as I know she likes. Her tunnel was moist with desire and anticipation, through manipulation I got her to shudder briefly.
The couple on the bed shifted, again they laid facing each other, their heads on the pillow. A little kissing, a lot of fondling, Eric pushed Molly on her back, climbed on top, between her. His unprotected penis pointed, I was sure, at the holy spot, I was about to protest when Molly took care of it, “You’ve got to put on a condom.”
“No, it’s okay, I’ve had a vasectomy, and I was tested recently.”
“It’s not okay,” Molly insisted, “either you use one, or you’re not gonna get any.”
I could sense his thoughts about it, I was still concerned that he might just decide to push it in, Molly was vulnerable in that position, but after a few seconds he decided in favor of safety, not only from transmission of disease, but also from what I’d do to him. He climbed off Molly, I handed him the packet I had waiting, inexpertly he tore it open and rolled it on. In the meantime, Molly climbed up, faced him on his knees, they approached each other, kissed, she suggested, “Mind if I get on top to start?” and without waiting for his protest, she pushed him down, straddled him, and in a moment or two he was inside her. She moved slowly, front and back more than up and down, I could see she was trying to massage her g-spot.
I was surprised when she uttered, “Oh, you’re so big! You fill me completely up,” for she had never talked that much during sex. Eric responded with a delighted look on his face, he felt her boobs. “Pinch them,” she appealed and when he gave into her wish, I saw the quiver that indicated my wife’s orgasm, but it didn’t last. Only fifteen seconds later, she opened her eyes wide, smiled at me, said, “come here, dear.” I approached her, standing at the side of the bed, and she leaned, a very awkward position, and took my penis into her mouth, bringing me to a roaring condition as her other gash kept moving, working on Eric. Because of the awkwardness of her position she couldn’t keep it up for very long, but I enjoyed the double penetration while it lasted.
Then, quite suddenly, she ceased her motions with Eric, climbed off him – he hadn’t come yet – and as a movie director sets a scene, she guided us to our positions. “Don, lie across the top of the bed, would you please.” I took my place. Then she reclined, my belly forming a soft pillow for her head. She raised her knees, opened them wide, and reached for Eric, “Come here, screw me as hard as you can.” He delighted in following her instructions, and was soon engulfed in her again. This was fun, for as he pushed in and out, pressing Molly’s scalp against my torso, I could use my hands to massage her breasts, soothe her hair, put a solitary finger into her mouth so she could suck on it. Molly used her hands as she wished, stroking the hairs on Eric’s chest or his throat, gently fondling my face or wanking on my penis as the spirit moved her. I could see her efforts at using her leg muscles to meet Eric’s drives, I wondered if she was tightening the muscles of her vaginal walls as well, making the receptacle snug for Eric’s pleasure.
Eric tried to slow his movements and was fairly successful, but I could see in his face that he was fighting a losing battle; soon, I was sure, he’d have to either withdraw or gush. Molly saw the same conflict too, and encouraged him, “Go ahead and let loose! Fill me up!” and a minute later, I witnessed his grimace, saw him tense and rise from her body, the condom was being swelled. Eventually he relaxed, crumpled on top of her, another bizimkent escort kiss, and then he sat up. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he announced.
“Quick,” Molly whispered to me, “put your clothes on.” And while I was dressing, wondering what she had in mind, she put her top and shorts on as well, by the time Eric emerged from the toilet, his dick limp and uninterested, Molly was brushing her hair.
“Thanks so much for the great time,” she said, “you were just what I wanted.”
Pulling his shorts up, Eric looked a bit mystified, feeling much the same as I. Why was Molly pushing him out the door so quickly? “Maybe we could get together again?” Eric suggested.
“Sure, maybe,” Molly equivocated. “Give us an email sometime.” Fifteen minutes after he came, he was gone.
“What was that?” I pestered.
“I’ll tell you later. Get your clothes off.” Once again we were on the bed, and she begged, “Now screw me, long and gentle.” I got us into that position, her legs over my hip, and I used lengthy stokes to excite her, I played with her nipples and clit, and soon she was coming, and coming hard. I was in no great hurry to get there, I did everything I could to keep her up on the mountain, it was a very long one for her. Then she came down, I was still inside her, moving ever so slightly, and we could talk.
“Okay, explain. Didn’t you like him?”
“Eric was fine,” Molly said, “for what I wanted. I thought he’d be okay at the Bleu Turtle, but when we got naked he was just a little off. He was doing the right things, but they didn’t get to me, I got the feeling that since this was his first threesome he wasn’t very sure of himself. Or maybe he’s just not a great lover, I don’t know. I only had that one little orgasm, and I sort of knew that no matter how long he went at it, that was going to be it. And the way he did it, well, it was like he had a lot to learn. So I let him have his fun, and couldn’t wait until I got you alone. Which is what I really want.” She moved her ass, I was inspired, I put her on her knees and came at her from the rear. I pounded her hard, she gave her shrieks of glee, and there I was, depositing a gob inside her. It was wonderful, my toes curled, the pleasure reached from my feet to my scalp.
Five minutes later, when we’d both recovered from the torment, she walked naked into the den, suggesting I follow her. She poured vodka tonics for both of us, we sat on the couch, looking at each other. It was a little strange, I thought, we never used to cavort in our house nude, I liked the change in behavior.
“So are you sad you let him have you?” I inquired.
“No, not at all. Are you?”
“I wish he would have been better.”
“Well, I do too. But we’ve got to realize that not all men are as good as Mark or Colin.”
“How about Keith?” I asked. I remembered how she was so excited, so many months ago.
“I’ve thought about that. It was my first time, so I had nothing to compare it with, but now that I’m educated, well, probably he was just average. I’m willing to settle for average once in awhile, I still like the variety, Eric was a little different, and he did get you all hepped up. That was a marvelous screw, dear, thank you.”
“I had a great partner,” I complimented back. “You know, when he tried to get in bareback, I was worried. I was just about to pull him off you.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you were there. If you weren’t, he might have just done it. I guess I’ve got to be a little more careful, not let them get so close unless they’re protected.”
Then she dragged the laptop over to us, we opened SLS and saw that Greg, the third guy we invited had sent us a tardy ‘yes.’ “Wouldn’t it be lovely,” Molly observed, “if Greg was here right now?” The fantasy of her having three guys in one afternoon got us both going again, we spent another hour playing with each other, until the passion was extinguished, at least for that day.
Two weeks later we met Greg in a bar, he was charming and when Molly got his resume from him, he let us know that he’d been in four or five threesomes, he had a regular married girlfriend that he saw four or five times a month, sometimes with her husband present, sometimes alone. Then he took us back to his apartment and showed Molly a great time, after they’d played with my assistance for an hour and fifteen minutes he encouraged me to have a go, and while Molly and I were linked he assisted us, encouraging Molly with kisses and caresses, for the first time another man touched me incidentally, it didn’t upset me.
Our hobby seemed to be working out just fine.
“I got a text from Mark today. He’s back, and I called him while I was driving home,” Molly related the second week of September, with enthusiasm. “He says he’s got a couple nights open, wanted to know if either of them work for us.”
I was amused to see Molly, a schoolgirl dressed in plaid jumper awaiting the arrival of the quarterback. It had been nearly three months since that weekend he’d come to stay, 48 hours of friendship and sex. In the interim, we’d chatted of him at intervals, she wishing he was around, I encouraging her in the desire. Of all her lovers, he was the one I liked best, full of energy, respectful of my situation, free and easy. “When can we get together?”