As soon as Ginger and Ben left, Mike attacked my overheated pussy with a horny, passionate zeal that he hadn’t shown in years. Willingly forced to his knees, my husband greedily lapped at my aching cunt, so aroused over my naughty behavior that he pulled his cock out and jacked off, moaning into my wetness as he stroked himself.
I cursed out my confession of how slutty I was when I went shopping, and he ate my honeypot to two orgasms, going insane with lust over his innocent, traditional wife flashing her nude pussy and ass in public. He was masturbating so furiously that I had to stop him, taking his erection in my mouth to ensure that I’d get a proper fucking.
Slurping down his cock, I told him all about Ben putting his hand on my thigh and fingering me.
“Did he really, or is it just fantasy talk, Mary Anne?”
“I’ll never tell. What do you think?”
I pistoned my mouth up and down his manhood until I could feel his balls tighten in their sack, and his entire body began trembling. Cruelly, I stopped, edging him and forestalling his release so I could get that cock inside me. Then, I made him strip as I peeled off my dress.
Crawling down the hallway on all fours, clad only in my heels and thigh-high stockings, I commanded my horny spouse to follow me. He crawled behind me with his tongue out, desperately trying to lap at my exposed holes. I stopped, reached back, and forced his eager mouth over my asshole.
“Lick it, you horny pervert. Stick your tongue in deep and make me melt. I fingered my ass when I chatted with you today. Do you like that?”
Mike’s tongue invaded my tight sphincter, and his fingers sought my clit.
“I liked Ben fingering my clit,” I confessed. “Does it make you hot to know that all your friends want to fuck your wife? Are you hard thinking about it?”
I pulled away, crawling toward our bedroom, stopping in front of the door to let him lick my cunt to another orgasm. Then, I let him fuck me as I dug my nails into his back.
“Your cock is the fourth thing I’ve had up my cunt today, tiger. My fingers, Ben’s hands, your tongue, and now, your hard cock.”
Before he could cum, I pushed him off and ran into the bedroom, jumping onto the bed. “Come and fuck your slutty wife.”
Looking almost comical with his erection wagging back and forth, he followed and impaled me on his hard shaft, fucking me like a savage.
“Are you hot for me, your wife, or because Ginger showed off her tits?”
He didn’t respond.
“Fuck your whore wife. I’m a whore, a big, fucking, nasty whore.”
“I’m cumming,” he announced.
Mike grunted and groaned, his spasms making him thrust deeper and harder into me. It was good and hot, but I needed more.
”Lick it out of my cunt until I’m satisfied,” I told him. My husband obeyed my desires, not even complaining that his cum was seeping out of my recently-fucked hole.
“Do you want me to cheat on you?” I moaned as he licked me, his fingers pistoning in and out of my cum-filled cunt, one finger plunging into my ass. “Does it make you hard to think about my married cunt being claimed by another man? Ben, maybe?”
“Oh, fuck, Mary. You’re so hot.”
He grew hard once more, and I took advantage of his lust, having him fuck me hard and rough, begging him to shoot his second load all over my face. I’d suggested it earlier that day, and a good wife always fulfills her promises.
We fell into a deep slumber, and I awoke so horny that early-morning sex was my only viable option. My Saturday began on a high note, but quickly grew exasperating.
Shaking Mike to consciousness, I straddled his waist and rode him, fingering my clit. Just as I was getting into it, his damn phone went off. It was work calling him in. A computer crash had rendered their records useless, and he was needed to help sort things out. I begged him not to go, but he’s the department head, so he had to.
We ceased our lovemaking, and I helped him get ready for work. As soon as he’d left, I lay on the couch and fingered myself to a glorious orgasm. However, it wasn’t my husband’s image that haunted my fantasies; it was Ben and Ginger. When I noted the time, I realized that the plumber would be there at any moment. It’s difficult enough to get a plumber these days, especially on the weekend, so I needed to ensure that everything was ready.
Unable to do laundry, I had to ransack my clothes before I found anything even vaguely suitable for the unseasonable heat. A pair of hardly-ever-worn shorts and a T-shirt were discovered as I rummaged through a drawer of clothing I never wear. The shorts approached scandalous territory, but they were really all I had. They were a cotton-spandex blend with V-notches at the hem. They were simply too short to wear in public, going just an inch or so past my buttocks.
Nonetheless, that was the only article of clothing that suited the day and temperature. So long as I didn’t grab the waist on either side of my hips and pull them up or bend over deeply, the crease that marked the beginning of my ass would remain concealed. While I didn’t have Ginger’s perfectly sculpted, store-bought tits, mine were big enough to bounce a bit, but I doubted the plumber would notice or care.
Juan, my plumber, arrived late, as he always does, but at least he was handsome and polite. Of Hispanic descent, his dark hair was thick and perfectly styled, and his entire body bristled with lean muscle, a firm, sexy butt enshrouded in his light brown pants. Offering him a cool glass of tea to be a proper hostess, I showed him the problem, and he went straight to work.
”The washer isn’t draining,” I told him as I showed him the laundry room. He nodded, although he barely glanced at the appliances. His eyes were riveted on my bouncing tits.
“Oh, and this drain here also leaks,” I mentioned, bending over deeply to show him the utility basin drain. His eyes seared into the flesh of my butt as I did. I caught him staring as I turned my head, and I smiled demurely. Of course, I felt compelled to grab the waistband of my shorts and pull them up. That exposed a hint of my ass cheeks and also pulled the material nice and taut between my pussy lips. The naughtiness of doing it intentionally made my nipples rock hard.
“The drain’s no problem, ma’am,” he said politely, in complete contrast to his lecherous stares. “I’ll just grab my drain snake and give your pipes a good reaming.”
“Oh,” I said mischievously. “I bet you have a nice, big snake, and my pipes could use a good reaming.”
He blushed, suddenly intently focused on his work. I let him be and concentrated on my housework. After our drunken, stoned dinner of debauchery, my home needed a thorough cleaning. When Juan walked into the living room on his way to his truck, he stopped and stared at me.
I’d heard him coming and pulled my shorts up tight enough to show a good bit of my ass, and I was kneeling on the floor with my butt up in the air, judiciously dusting under the couch. When he returned, I was stretching upward with my arms raised, running a feather duster over the walls where they meet the ceiling. My hard nipples were poking out of my T-shirt, and he drooled over me, which set my sex on fire.
Then, of course, I just had to do the dishes, and I “accidentally” got dishwater all over the front of my shirt. That made the soft fabric plaster itself to my boobs, so I decided it was time to take Juan another glass of tea.
”I know you’re into superheroes,” he was saying to his phone while working on the basin drain. “I’ll think of something, son.”
“I didn’t know you were married,” I stated to get his attention. Juan’s eyes passed over my outstretched hand, offering him another drink, and focused on my hard, plainly visible nipples. Wetted down from me splashing dishwater all over my shirt, my nipples could be plainly seen; the fact that I did it intentionally made them stick out, long, hard, and proud.
“I’m not,” he shrugged. “Single dad. My wife passed several years ago. My son is going to a costume party, and I’m chaperoning. I’m expected to dress up, as well.”
“That’s so sweet. You should go as Batman. You definitely have the chin.” I placed the fresh glass of tea in his hand and let my fingers wander up his toned arm. “And the build to pull it off.”
“But, I’m Hispanic!”
“Then, how about Bat Manuel?”
He laughed so hard that he spilled his tea.
“Let me get you a fresh glass.” I took the now-empty glass and retreated to the kitchen, making sure I gave my ass some extra wiggle to delight and entice his appreciative eyes.
I wish he did more than just look. After the previous evening, I longed to feel another’s hands on my body. My hot flesh needed to feel that; it made me so aroused to know that others found me desirable. I wanted to suck his cock and feel it penetrate my horny cunt as I begged for more.
An overpowering need to drink his cum or feel it shooting all over my tits made it nearly impossible to concentrate on the simple task of pouring the liquid into the cup. If he’d just touch me, I’d let him do anything he wanted, anything at all. Regrettably, lusty leers and aroused glances were all I received.
After Juan had left, I was so aroused by his lusty stares that I ran into the bedroom and fingered myself to another orgasm. Then I remembered that Ginger and Ben were supposed to come over. With Mike gone for work, probably working very late, I’d need to cancel. I called Allison, and she answered on the second ring.
“Mary Anne, it's so good to hear from you. I was just going to call you.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. We need to cancel tonight. Ben’s stuck on campus, grading papers all night because he’s a master procrastinator.”
“Same here,” I replied. “Mike got a call first thing this morning about some server crash or something. I’m so sorry.” My mind immediately fixated upon a couple of suspicious thoughts, but I batted them aside for later consideration. “Was that why you were going to call me?”
“Not exactly,” she paused, “I need to talk to you about last night.”
I immediately panicked. She probably wasn’t serious about not caring about Ben’s wandering hands last night. Her husband probably told her what I let him do, and Allison was going to go redhead-berserker on me. I steeled myself for the pending onslaught.
“Go ahead,” I said cheerily, not betraying my trepidation.
She hummed and stuttered, beginning to speak three or four times, then pausing. Finally, she blurted out, “Can you help me market myself? I want to hit the big time, but Ben can never find out.”
Relief washed over me. “Oh, that’s all?” I paused, wondering if I should bring up the fact that her husband fingered me under the table the night before. The decision that it should be a face-to-face discussion curtailed any mention. “Sure. Any time.”
“Well, since Ben has some whoring coed bent over his desk...I mean, he’s grading papers, and your husband is off saving his company; maybe we can do lunch.”
“I can’t right now; the washer just got repaired, and I need to do laundry. Why don’t you come over, instead?”
“Should I bring anything?”
“More of those edibles!”
“Now I know why they called you Mary Jane. You looked so stoned and excited last night when Ben was fingering you.”
“You knew!” I was dumbfounded.
“I told you it’s kind of hot. Of course, I knew. It was obvious to me, you dirty slut.”
So much for waiting to discuss it. “You’re not mad?”
“Don’t worry about it; it’s our thing. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
I was taken aback and mused over her attitude toward something that would send most couples to divorce court. Rather than examine my feelings about the situation, I busied myself with the laundry. Dirty clothes were piled so high that I considered burning them all and running up the balance of Mike’s Sponge Bob VISA to get all new clothes.
Contrary to popular belief, doing the laundry isn’t all that arduous, but it is time-consuming, mostly waiting. Between loads, one has plenty of idle time, especially if you dry your clothing properly. Low heat and gentle tumbles are required if you want to keep your clothes looking crisp and fresh.
As I represent my husband when I’m out and about, having smart clothing is a requirement. Likewise, Mike’s appearance directly reflects on me, so I take great pride and care to ensure that his clothes always look pristine. I’d just put the first load into the dryer and was piling the second batch of soiled clothes in the now-draining washer when Allison arrived.
She was dressed in a frilly sundress, no bra, and she looked stunning. Just as the night before, she boldly strode in, a sealed bag of edibles in one hand. After some awkwardness, because I couldn’t comprehend her not being jealous, we were soon laughing and chatting like the best of friends. I prepared a simple lunch of soup, sandwiches, fried potatoes, and pasta in cheese sauce while we chatted.
The hours passed by, time measured by the mountain of laundry eroding. We ate, drank, and bonded, and I learned all about Allison’s entrepreneurial endeavors. She hadn’t lied at dinner; she only neglected to mention the entire truth. Ginger was, indeed, a fashion influencer, but while that did give her some revenue, most of her income came from being what she called a “nude model.”
Her version of the term involved being on webcam a few days a week, and making videos, sometimes solo and other times with partners, both men and women.
“You’re in porn!” I diplomatically blurted out.
“Adult entertainment,” she corrected.
Slowly, as she explained things to me, I began to understand. Allison made her college tuition money by camming. Since college professors at community colleges don’t make much money, she sought work, but couldn't find anything to make ends meet. As time went by, she segued back into being a cam-girl, then moved into videos. Ben didn’t know, and she wanted to keep things that way.
While I had some issues with her lying to her husband, some quick introspection revealed that I also kept a few secrets from Mike. I adopted the “what they don’t know won’t hurt them” mentality.
“So, do you have sex with your clients?” It seemed like an appropriate question.
“God, no,” she laughed, splitting another edible and offering half of it to me. “I’m not a whore. When I fuck, I do it for fun.”
I nodded. “Okay. Tell all about how you market yourself.”
In short, she didn’t. She just put her stuff out there and hoped. I absorbed as many details as I could, asking leading questions and making mental notes. When I inquired about her role and the personality she projects, I was pleasantly amused.
Ginger’s forte was cosplaying. She had an extensive collection of roleplaying, superhero, and nerdy, geeky outfits that she wore. In fact, her red hair came from a redheaded comic book heroine character, and Ben liked it so much that she kept it.
“What exactly does camming and making videos entail?” I inquired.
Ginger began speaking, but her phone went off, playing the Imperial March from Star Wars.
“It’s my husband.”
Allison made a silly face, sticking out her tongue at the phone, then leaned back in the chair, casually propping one foot on my table. Her face was alight with tender mirth, though. I was treated to one side of their conversation.
“Hiya, stud. Missing me, already?” Her expression grew distant, and her head nodded slowly.
“I figured as much. Are you coming home, at all, tonight?” She paused and listened, rolling her eyes and gently swaying her propped-up foot back and forth.
“I see. All night, huh?” She winked at me, and I giggled at her expression. “No, don’t worry, dear. I’ll find something to keep myself occupied.”
She paused for a long time, listening, her hand making “hurry up” gestures.
“Okay, dear. Love you too. See you tomorrow.” She tossed her phone on the table, grimacing and smirking at the same time. Even with her face contorted like that, she looked overwhelmingly sexy.
“How much do you wanna bet he’s shaking up in some cheap hotel with some coed slut?”
“How can you not get jealous?”
“Why, because he’s taking the ‘ho to the hotel? That’s why it’s named that!” She erupted into a sputtering laughing fit over her pun. I laughed along with her. “Besides,” she added, “how do you think I got him?”
We then continued our discussion about her provocative work online. Then, oddly, my husband called me. It was a very similar conversation. Mike told me that things just weren’t going well, and he’d be there all night and through most of Sunday, as well. He told me that he’d sleep on the couch in his office. I was supportive, as a wife should be, but those earlier suspicions came back with reinforcements.
The mountain of laundry diminished to a hill, then merely a small pile. Allison and I chatted the afternoon away; no topic was off-limits. Soon, it was dinner time, so I prepared us a nice meatloaf with potatoes and carrots, some home-baked bread, and Ceaser salads. We had more edibles for dessert. All the while, Ginger was busy on her phone, typing furiously, sometimes laughing.
“I know!” she erupted. “With Ben gone, I’ll be doing a sexy cam show, tonight. Why don’t you watch?”
“I…I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that, Ginger. At least not just yet.”
“It’s just sex! Nothing to be squeamish about.” She grabbed a napkin from the centerpiece of my table, a lovely salt and pepper holder with a napkin holder built into the center. “Here you go, just in case.”
I read what she’d written. It was an adult website, and her performer name, “Nerdy Princess Scarlet,” was written beneath the website name. Her writing was beautiful and extravagant, all swoops, swirls, and perfectly formed letters.
“I’ll think about it,” was all I said.
“Well, I need to go and get ready, then. Keep the weed candy; I have tons of it.”
We hugged and thanked each other for a pleasant afternoon. Then, she left with tentative plans to maybe get together tomorrow if our wayward husbands were still otherwise occupied. Rather than deal with the suspicions gnawing away at my mind, I busied myself with housework.
Granted, Ben was super-sexy. If he wasn’t so sensual-looking and charismatic, the thought of letting him finger me wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. Had it not been for the perfect storm of my horniness, the permissive atmosphere, and Ginger being so nonchalant about it, I’d have removed his hand and scolded him, harshly, no matter how wet he made my pussy. However, his cavalier attitude made me wonder if, perhaps, my husband was also sowing his wild oats someplace other than our bedroom.
I knew that made me a hypocrite; a good wife doesn’t get finger-fucked under the table while seated across from her husband and the other man’s wife. I couldn’t help feeling the way I did. I also wondered if both of our husbands were out tom-catting around, in cahoots. It just seemed entirely too convenient that both of our men suddenly had work issues that required their weekend-long attention.
I whiled away the rest of the daylight by dusting and rearranging things, so the rooms flowed and were more pleasing to the eye, more soothing to the spirit. Then, feeling grimy, I decided to take an evening shower. As the hot, steamy water cascaded over my nude body, I ruminated on my suspicions.
Needing to clear my head before I went off on a mental tangent and unjustly accused my husband of being a dirty, cheating bastard, I thought about Allison’s plea to help her hit the “big time” in her sex work. I had no moral qualms about her chosen profession. I somewhat envied her openness and sex-positive attitude. I was wild behind closed doors, but my new friend was so free about it.
I heard the dryer ding out its final chime as I showered; the laundry was finally done. Juan was so sweet to take time out of his weekend to charge me nearly double his weekday rate and fix not only the clogged drain but the basin pipes as well. But, as I thought about how handsome he was, those lithe muscles rippling as he worked, and the way he stared at me with open lust, the combination of the hot, soothing water and my hands all over my body aroused me into a horny stupor.
As far as my husband knew, the shower massage head was strictly to facilitate my cleaning of the shower stall. What he probably didn’t know was that when I dialed it to the “hard pulse” mode, it became a very effective clit-stimulator. I turned it to its most powerful setting, and the shower head whirred to life, humming and buzzing from the force.
Pressing the hot, hard jets of water directly at my clit, my entire body trembled in pleasure when the pulses hit my sensitive nub, and I melted into the shower wall. I leaned against the tiles as waves of horny bliss shot onto my cunt and sent ripples of heavenly tingles throughout my body. Soon, I was lost in sexual fantasy; Juan didn’t just look; he took action.
His strong arms grabbed me and tore the T-shirt off my body, exposing my shapely tits and engorged nipples as he pulled me into his firm body. My hands grasped his hard cock, and I moaned when I saw how long, thick, and hard it was. It was my fantasy, after all, so Juan would be well-hung.
Pressing the pulsing shower head against my clit, I humped it as I imagined how it would feel for him to pull my skimpy shorts down my legs and plunge two or three fingers into my slippery wetness.
“This is what happens when you tease me,” he’d scold. “You’re doing it on purpose. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Fuck me with your giant cock!” I yelled out loud. It was my response in my fantasy, and what I screamed as an orgasm neared.
His brown skin would contrast divinely with my smooth and creamy Caucasian tone. Lost in overpowering desire for my cunt, Juan would bend me over, forcing my head down to the floor, in the same position I teased him when I was cleaning under the couch. Then, he’d ram that hard, meaty cock into me and pound me, calling me a slut, a cheating wife, and all sorts of dirty, vile things.
When my orgasm came, it ambushed me, tearing my soul into pieces, reconstituting my flailing body into an instrument that only knew pleasure.
“Fuck me, Juan. Fuck me like the slutty, cheating whore I am,” I screamed. My voice devolved into whimpering moans as the pleasure consumed me. I ended up sitting on the floor of the shower, the shower head still slamming my clit, and my body quivering in post-orgasmic bliss.
I turned off the shower, somewhat embarrassed with myself for screaming out another man’s name. At least nobody was around to hear me. Then, as I dried off, I realized that I was still horny, as well as deeply stoned. Why not, I thought to myself as I eyed up my electric toothbrush. I was due to change the head of it, anyway.
The impromptu sex toy quickly brought me off once more; the rotating, soft bristles massaging my clit as I grabbed my hairbrush and fucked myself with the handle furiously. For some reason, Juan’s face and stunning body faded from my mind’s eye, only to be replaced by Ben’s sexy face. His impish smile and knowing expression were delightful as he plunged his fingers into my cunt while Ginger looked on, knowing what was happening.
As soon as my mind fixed on Ginger, I came again. My contractions of pleasure were so intense that the hairbrush shot out of my pussy, and the brush landed on the floor with a plastic clatter.
As guilt overcame me, I finished drying myself off, replaced the head of my toothbrush, cleaned off my brush, and, then ran into my bedroom to get dressed. It was dark by then, and I didn’t feel like donning proper attire. I simply grabbed my short, satiny robe and covered my nudity with that.
I decided that I’d watch some television, then go to bed. But, as I passed the dinette table on my way to the kitchen to make myself a strong drink, I saw Ginger’s napkin with her eloquent scrawl. The justification that I was doing research for a potential client gave me all the excuses I needed.
My laptop was nearby, and it only took a second or two to go to the website. After reading through it for a few minutes, I created an account and then purchased some tokens using Sponge Bob VISA. While the sheer number of cam models was intimidating, I eventually found Nerdy Princess Scarlet.
There was no thumbnail showing her, like the other models had, Instead of her picture, a clock of sorts was counting down. Her show would begin in exactly twenty-one minutes and thirteen seconds. That gave me just enough time to indulge in another drink and some more edibles.
To be continued...
