Another day, another dollar.
I was waiting at the subway station for my wife to pick me up. She had taken the day off to go on a job interview. I jumped in the car. It was early summer, and she was wearing a cute floral-patterned sundress and a big smile, the picture of a demure suburban housewife happily picking up her husband.
"I was a bad girl today."
"Yeah. How'd the interview go? What'd you do?"
"Well, Mohammed called me. I told him I was busy today and had to go for a job interview, and he volunteered to come along. He came to the interview with me, and we went back to his apartment. I just barely got here in time."
My cock immediately started getting hard. The interview was, like, 10:30 in the morning. Backing out the travel time, she must have spent half the day fucking her latest boyfriend.
Want to know when you know your wife has dropped the pretense of a hotwife and embraced the lifestyle of a full-blown cuckoldress? A sure sign is when you come home from work and find her sitting in the kitchen with a guy you've never met, having a cigarette, naked under her satin bathrobe, with her firm round tits hanging out.
"Hey. Say hi to Mohammed. He's just leaving. Mohammed, this is my husband."
After he and I shook hands, she walked him out, stopping at the front door where they locked lips in a deep kiss.
As she tells it, he had pulled up next to Her at a traffic light, ostensibly to ask directions. The directions she gave him apparently led straight to our house, up the stairs, and into our marital bed.
She didn't need to elaborate. I knew when I walked in the kitchen. She had that freshly-fucked look all over her face of a woman who had just finished riding a big cock to multiple orgasms.
"He's from Egypt. He was showing me his wedding pictures. The frigging pyramids are right there in the background!"
I think his exotic Middle Eastern looks are what initially attracted her. He had the look of a young Omar Sharif. That, and his enthusiastic and persistent pitch, as he made it clear to her at four different stoplights that he was very interested in her. Much to her delight, he was expert at laying pipe (She really loves a good hard fucking). Every Jewish American Princess should have herself an Arabian Prince!
All that was going through my mind when she said, "He invited us to dinner tonight, with him and his two younger brothers. We'll go home and you can change. We've got plenty of time to get there."
At home, I quickly got changed and headed downstairs.
"Hang on," she said, "I want to freshen up a little before we go." She returned, still in the sundress but no longer looking like a demure housewife. She looked stunning; the morning's subtle look had been replaced by deep ruby red lips with smoldering super-smoky blue eye shadow and heavy mascara. Looked like she was planning on more than dinner tonight.
I could barely keep my mind on driving, my thoughts bouncing between thinking about them fucking all afternoon and wondering what was on tap tonight.
Mohammed introduced us as "my friends" to his two brothers who were visiting from Egypt; both looked to be in their early twenties and, based on how they were looking at her, probably knew that she had been putting out for Mohammed. We all enjoyed a traditional Middle Eastern meal and drank lots of red wine. After dinner, he fired up his hookah, and we all got pleasantly stoned as we listened to Egyptian music and Mohammed regaled us with tales of life in the shadow of the pyramids.