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My Cheating Blonde Wife

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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Leo96 » Mon Apr 09, 2018 1:11 am

I am struggling to wonder what took place ahead of this. Though my mind is thinking about some kinky scenario. Well i guess i will have to just wait and watch
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue Apr 10, 2018 7:27 am

Rick had said just the right thing and the mood in the room was lightened. Chris was visibly shaken by the experience and she had obviously been crying, mostly from relief, and her makeup was a mess. It was good to see her smile. I ran down to the car to lock it up, put the laptop Rick had had in the trunk, and, ready for anything, brought up a small camera in my pocket. When I climbed the stairs returning to the apartment a few moments later, I thought I caught Chris and Rick exchanging a hug and a chaste kiss. Brandishing the camera, I said, “Let’s get a picture of the knight in shining armor and the damsel in distress.” She said, “Wait a second, I look awful.”

In a surprisingly endearing way, Chris returned just a few minutes later, face washed, wearing Dr. Denton’s (flannel pajamas with feet) that I had gotten her as an early gift before we had married. I couldn’t believe she still had that thing. She was, it seemed to me, going out of her way to be adorable.

Now, I know that Chris looks great in lingerie and great out of it. Her shoulders, firm breasts and pencil eraser pink upright nipples, tiny waist, flat stomach, and tight little ass were made for lingerie, swimsuits, and, as I thought at that moment, Karl had really missed out because, she looked spectacular in her tight black dress, no less because the top had been nearly torn open and stretched, and her blonde hair was frazzled. All that said, I can’t tell you just how beautiful she looked, freshly scrubbed, without makeup, and doing nothing at all to amplify her assets, her blonde hair loosely pulled back into a pony tail. She put a bottle of wine on the side table with glasses, plunked down on the sofa, motioned for both Rick and I to sit on either side of her, and proclaimed: “Slumber party!”

I don’t suppose either of us really knew what that meant. But, it would have taken a stronger man than I to resist and no man has yet been born who would not have, however briefly, considered the possibilities or chosen to leave. I felt strange. I suppose the way to say it was, just for a moment, I felt a bit dizzy and felt that tightness in my chest that, when not a heart attack, is what has been described as a love pang. Pang of guilt, remorse, regret, longing, loss, however you characterize it, a feeling that I thought I was beyond having.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby HotGomez » Tue Apr 10, 2018 11:04 am

Good to see you moving beyond the ego-driven and all-consuming need for vengeance. With Spring, your time
to nurture the healing process has arrived ! On with the show. BTW - just what color were those Dr. Denton's ?
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue Apr 10, 2018 10:41 pm

HotGomez, it is a complicated thing and I appreciate your comments. The Dr. Denton's were, as I recall, a white and red pattern.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue Apr 10, 2018 10:45 pm

We enjoyed the wine and in no time at all, we were all old friends together again. We took turns posing together, Rick and Chris, me and Chris, Rick and me, and with the timer, all three of us, that is to say her heroes and the damsel in distress. We sat back and watched TV for while and after surfing a bit with me responding to booes, hisses and groans as we rejected shows, we settled on M. Night Shyamalan’s Signs (the scariest movie ever) on TV and Chris cuddled with each of us at the scary scenes pulling Rick’s arm around her and clutching for the closest arm she could grab, Rick’s or mine. Chris had teased the fuck out of Rick in the past, but it was clear there had been a sea-change in the emotional balance now. Chris’ life had gotten out of balance, but so had mine. We had rescued her from a brutal attack and she was safe with friends. To go beyond her wishes would have been very poor form indeed under the circumstances.

Sometimes in life, there is a safe place to talk, and it is easy to talk, and words and feelings flow. There was not so much talk here as there was genuine feeling. It was clear that Chris was sorry about the way things had spun out of control. She held my face and kissed me, her tongue playing with mine, then she stopped and turned to Rick, murmured “my hero” and, to the best of my knowledge, she and he had their first romantic kiss. As she kissed him, I could see his hands running down her sides, tiny waist to her thighs, as they sat on the sofa. As we felt the effects of the wine and the intimacy and as it got later in the evening, Chris, somewhat mischievously began rubbing Rick’s thigh higher and higher, peaking back and me and seeing no objection. We were holding our breaths to see where this was going. Chris, perked up, laughed and said, “Boy, you guys are shy,” laughing. Her laugh, which I had not mentioned before was one of the things I had loved about her: it was a part silly schoolgirl giggle and part melodious femme fatale. She was working us. She said, “Don’t go anywhere, guys. I’ll be back in a moment.” I remember the moment so clearly because, believe it or not, just as Joaquin Phoenix was about to “swing away” at the end of the movie Chris came back in the sexiest red night gown ever, spaghetti strings with her blonde hair contrasting with the red lace at the top. She had quickly transformed from the pretty little waif in the Dr. Denton's to, words fail, to a beautiful woman.

You could have knocked us over with a feather.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Thu Apr 12, 2018 6:23 am

Looking back, it is clear what was going on. Chris needed to feel safe again after Karl’s attempt to forcibly take her. She would have some bruises on her upper arm and wrists where Karl had grabbed her. It came out later, bit by bit, that Karl had made a major error in his dealings with Chris: over dinner, he had taken for granted that she would put out for him, based on a friend’s report that he had fucked “a superhot, blonde snapper of a cunt who was hot to trot.” My guess is that one of the “sterile rams” who had used her, pretending that it would “close” a real estate deal, passed her name on to a friend. However it came to pass, Karl, instead of flattering her, started treating her like a whore, taking for granted that he would be using her, telling her as he drove her back home that “I have a thing for petite blondes” and that “I hear you have some good moves in the sack.” He even began to brag about how she “wouldn’t be able to walk” after he finished with her, bragging about the size of his cock. It set up the wrong vibe and Chris wanted out of the situation. That’s when things went badly wrong and when Rick and I had been around to intervene.

As she stood before Rick and I, she was the image of vulnerable beauty, looking for our approval. She shifted from foot to foot across the room from us, waiting for our reaction. She was wide-eyed and had, given the situation, a shyness about her. Her blonde hair, released from her pony tail and shaken hung loosely about her neck and shoulders, its golden color contrasting with the bright red lace of the night gown. She was biting a side of her lower lip, which had just a trace of freshly applied pink lipstick. Her fingernails were painted their usual bright red and were in a constant state of movement, pulling and tugging at places on the night gown by her thighs that were stretched tightly across her thighs. I could see in this vision of beauty a hint of her firm breasts and her nipples were pressing against the material. She was a tiny thing, barely 100 lbs and five foot two, but her figure was perfect, her slim body curving in to her narrow hips and then out to her fit hips and thighs. Her fitness showed itself through, her shoulders curving into her upper arm, and a sparse, blonde fine down sprinkling her forearms as she tugged at places that didn’t need tugging out of nervousness being on such open display. The nightgown ended just below her bit thighs, showing her fit thighs, knees and calves to advantage – shaped by her years of gymnastics, running, and workouts in the gym.

I heard - or perhaps, felt - a sharp intake of breath and I could not tell you whether it was from Rick or me – or both – and she walked over to us. She glanced over to me and then Rick and said, “I have some apologies to make.” She then, without another word glanced at me, as though for permission. I gave her a small nod and there, in the room lit now only by a corner lamp, she pushed Rick back down on the sofa, kneeled before him and began stroking his thighs and cock through his pants.

She fumbled with his zipper and then, with a furrowed brow and a small frown, said simply: “Take these off.”
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Leo96 » Sat Apr 14, 2018 2:04 am

Amazing! I wanna ask you tho, how did you feel when the woman you had loved so much, honestly, with complete devotion, is now licking the tip of your best friend's cock sitting right beside you?
Did it make you feel awful or were you more like "hell yes! This is what i had always secretly fantasized about Chris, MFM 3some with my wife and best friend, watching my wife suck another cock and witnessing my friend fucking my wife right in front of my eyes?"
curious to know what was the first emotion that hit you when you realized that Chris is going to fuck another man right before your eyes?
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Jocko64 » Sat Apr 14, 2018 8:03 pm

My wife and I had open marriage (hall passes) but I can remember vividly the first time I saw her take a dick in her mouth that had just came out of the guys wife's pussy. I was dumbfounded and jealous even though his wife was playing with my dick and ready to suck it. Funny feeling although I knew she had sucked dicks and who she had sucked, I just had never seen it happen! I got over it rather quickly!
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Apr 15, 2018 2:30 pm

Who would not obey such a simply command? Rick dropped his trousers and Chris tugged down his underwear and pulled both trouser legs and underwear over his ankles and feet and, folding both and setting them on the side table, then took his already hard cock into her perfectly manicured hands. Red nail polish. I had seen Chris on the hidden cam with her old boss. But, I had never seen Chris live with another man. I watched from a near distance, mesmerized and hard with excitement. With one hand cupping Rick’s balls, covered by red pubic hair and the other pulling his cock, by then rigid, from its position pointing upward against his stomach, towards her, I saw my ex-wife, Chris, start talking to his dick, caressing, cajoling, stroking, whispering. At one point she said, “I am not a cock-tease.” Then, she announced, “my first and only ginger, my hero” then lowered her mouth onto Rick’s eager cock, working downward until her face was buried in his reddish pubic hair. I still can remember Rick’s groan.

Then I watched her toss her blonde hair to the side, enabling me to better see, for a timeless moment, my ex-wife pump my best friend’s cock into her mouth while she squeezed his balls.

The spirit was light-hearted, but seeing Chris work on Rick caused an upwelling of feelings, many of them new to me.

On the one hand, I felt a deep comradery with Rick and was happy for him. Chris, you will recall, had falsely accused him of threatening to “blackmail” her into sex. I think you now can judge for yourselves the falsity of that accusation. Now, at last, it seemed as though the air was cleared of that poisonous charge. Chris was devotedly making this right. She was not going through the motions. She was willing, indeed eager, to please Rick both out of gratitude and for past slights. Chris, so beautiful and sexual, was paying her debt to Rick in the currency at her command. I watched her checking with him with whispers to make sure she was “doing it right.” She took each of his balls in her mouth and flicked her pointy tongue around the head of his cock, caressing his length with hand and tongue, affectionate and happy. Rick was on the verge of shooting his wad, but Chris squeezed him and expertly kept him on the edge of ejaculation, for his pleasure and hers.

On the other hand, Chris had also been my wife and I had adored her, truly and faithfully. Seeing her with another man, even with my approval, tested me. Yet, it did not create the feelings I expected. It was like losing a tooth as a child; it is there and you can’t stop playing with it feeling it loosen with that painful pleasure, and then when it comes out, there is a vast expanse of gum you didn’t know you had and the pain and pleasure were gone. So it was with my jealousy and anger. I had felt betrayed and angry at Chris so long. I had enjoyed degrading her, using her, punishing her. But now, confronted with her caring for my friend, I searched for the feelings I had held onto so long, the feelings of jealousy and anger. I only found a vast expanse of - of what, exactly? Of passion? Of love? Of connection? All I can tell you is that I was no longer jealous or angry. For the first time in a long time, maybe forever, I felt that I wanted Chris to be happy, with or without me.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby HotGomez » Sun Apr 15, 2018 8:29 pm

Talk about Growth - penile, and otherwise.
Talk about Hot !
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Mon Apr 16, 2018 5:47 am

More to come, Hot Gomez.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Mon Apr 16, 2018 6:10 am

I tried to talk myself through the feelings, perhaps to make light of them. “You don’t think you’re going to get out of this with just a blowjob , do you?” I laughed. With my camera ready to show the “repeal” of the “No Gingers ordinance,” I took a few shots of Rick’s rigid manhood as he first penetrated Chris’ tight blonde twat. But my attempts at humor seemed forced and awkward given the sexual tension between them.

I could practically feel it myself.

With a slight pop as the head of his good-sized cock pushed through the tight lips of her cunt, he slid into her. All the way. Balls deep. His red pubic hairs soaked by her wetness, which had already soaked her own golden pubic hair. She always had had abundant natural lubrication - we had never needed lube. She was wet - abundantly lubricated with her sweet, natural juices. He pushed his thick cock into her tight blonde cunt slowly. He felt her tight body rise to meet him with each thrust. I knew that feeling. I knew how at that moment her fit body was reacting with her vaginal muscles clenching hard and squeezing his thick cock, resisting its withdrawal. You could see her tight lips being pulled inside out. He pulled her night gown which was around her waist off of her so she was completely naked. He ran his hands up her thighs, across her concave tummy, along her ribs, across her firm breasts pulling on her pink eraser nipples until they were taut. Holding her shoulders, he kissed her passionately, deeply, their tongues playing with one another.

It was exquisite agonizing pleasure to hear her quiet moan and her ravenous kisses on his neck and shoulders. She wrapped her legs around him pulling him in her and refusing to relinquish her hold on him. He sucked on her erect pink nipples, already taut with desire. From time to time, he would pull out all the way out and rub his cock across her taut, firm stomach, then slide back into her and pump some more. He was hungry for her. Starving. Achieving fulfillment of his long-desired fantasy.

She began to moan as she reached a long, rolling, skipping, orgasm. Just as he was about to come, he slid out and straddled her across her shoulders so that she could tongue his hairy balls. He began to fill the pressure build until he finally exploded shooting streams of cum across her face and waiting mouth, spraying her beautiful face. He stayed hard and slid into her again, marveling at her tight thighs and buttocks. He kneeled and, holding her waist, pulled her towards him so that he could watch his red pubic hair as it contrasted with hers so golden and yellow and then he proceeded to set up a steady rhythm with his still half-hard and engorged cock.

He wasn't done yet it seemed. She wiped the cum away from her eyes, but left his white gold on her chin and across the crease at the side of her lips. She was totally lost in the moment, jerking his cock into new hardness, with her pretty face concentrating as she moved under him. She wrapped her strong legs around his low back and pulled him down to her, doing all the work with her hips and thighs snapping back and forth beneath him.

I was amazed at what a great fuck she was giving him. My once beloved wife - and now? - was expertly working his cock, putting everything she had into jerking him off with the tight ring of her cunt snapping back and forth along the length of his cock, She was arching her back and snapping down over his cock head and shaft with each stroke. No man could resist that for long. I flashed on how she had probably done the same to others in her open houses "closing" a sale with male clients. They must have gotten off good with my pretty blonde wife.

Then back to the moment, mesmerized by the intensity of feeling, watching her take Rick's stiff cock, showing off her fit abs and thighs as they worked him, pressing her firm tits against his chest, both covered with a sheen of perspiration.

I heard Rick groan once and then a longer groan as he came again, but this time deep in her as they held each other. I saw his ass tighten as he filled her blonde cunt.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Jocko64 » Tue Apr 17, 2018 8:15 am

Your experiences are great, in all of our years I only saw wife give two blowjobs and never watched her get fucked except when we did threesomes. Truthfully I did not care to watch her being pleasured or pleasuring a man. I loved hearing the details from her and all she ever wanted from me was to know who I had been with.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Wed Apr 18, 2018 3:07 am

Jocko, thanks for sharing. More to come.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Wed Apr 18, 2018 3:15 am

I know that some of you wish to proceed directly to a sex scene. And given the preceding entry in this thread, you would not be unreasonable in expecting one. A threesome or better a foursome. But, sometimes, in recounting events, the French expression: “Reculer pour mieux sauter,” applies: to draw back in order to make a better jump. For things to make sense, we need to draw back, so that the future leaps make sense. In real life, things simply don’t seem to go as planned. At least not for me.

So. I felt the sensation I had described before as a “love pang.” I felt left out. In part, I felt diminished by their love-making, which is what it was. I had been fucking Chris, using her, enjoying my “payback,” but this, this was something different and bigger. I almost felt like an intruder. I was ashamed that I had not been able to rise higher. I felt like leaving, but I didn’t want to leave, for fear that jealousy would rear its ugly head. And, part of me, I am not proud to admit, just wanted my turn with this passionate blonde beauty. I wanted a chance to have what Rich had just had.

My contemplations came to an abrupt halt though as I saw Chris seized by wracking spasms, which I soon (but not immediately) recognized as her sobbing. She pushed herself up to a sitting position on the sofa, turned her tearful eyes to me and said, simply, “I’m so sorry.”

I suppose others may have reacted differently, but a beautiful woman, crying, pressed every protective button in our natures, Rick’s and mine, that is. Rick, of course, was concerned that he had done something wrong. After all, he had just had mind-blowing sex with this trim blonde, cumming twice, once deep in her, held tight by her, and once in her face, splattering her eyes, nose cheeks, lips, and chin. He thought, as I think anyone would have thought in that situation, “Did I do something wrong?” I was a bit quicker on the uptake, knowing the complexities of Chris as I did and – unbelievably – I held her naked body against my clothed one, stroking her hair and kissing the top of her head, shushing her, telling her that she was safe and that we would protect her.

Rick pulled the light crocheted throw blanket across her back and gently laid it around her waist and over her thighs, now tucked in under her. For a moment, despite my proximity to this fit beauty now in my arms, whose tight tummy (I could not help but notice) contracted with each sob, whose blonde hair I caressed and kissed, who smelled of sex and salty tears, I was unmanned. I could no more have imagined initiating sexual relations with her at that moment than had we been in the middle of a place of worship with a full congregation during services.

“I’m so, so sorry. There’s something wrong with me,” she began. Rick and I, of course, had no idea what she was sorry about. Was it that she had just had sex with my friend in front of me? Was it that she had gone out with that brute, Karl? Was it that she had made love to Rick and felt – or didn’t feel – what she was supposed to feel? We had no idea. Rick got up and said, “Let me get you some tea?” Why not? When in doubt a cup of tea was the way to deal with a crying woman. A good impulse to which Chris nodded assent.

As Chris composed herself, wiping the tears (and for the second time that evening the remnants of eyeliner) from under her eyes – and blotting up the cum that had just sprayed her face with a tissue – she said, “It’s nothing either of you have done wrong. You’ve been wonderful. It’s what I’ve done.” Then, taking a breath and looking at me, she said: “I owe you the truth.”

At that moment, on impulse, doing a poor imitation of Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men I exclaimed: “You can’t handle the truth.” Chris, Rick and I laughed. Then Chris said: “I owe you the truth - and I hope you can handle it.” She had cast a spell upon us and we, enchanted, listened. She pulled the blanket around her, took a sip from the tea cup, took in a short breath, and began.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Jocko64 » Wed Apr 18, 2018 7:11 am

Great, keep it up! I can relate to some of the story!
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Wed Apr 18, 2018 11:04 pm

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so safe. I can trust both of you, I know that.” Of course, both Rick and I felt pretty low at that moment since we had, after all, been spying on her without her knowledge and had not acted nobly by our own standards. On the other hand, in some self-justifying way, we also had definitely drawn a line against the brutality of guys like Karl. Both of us had years of personal relationship with Chris and there was a connection, however twisted and screwed up it had become. I suppose we can be forgiven for thinking that the surveillance had, in the end, protected her from a forced sex situation or a “date rape” sort of scenario. We had seen Karl grab her, but we had also seen what had happened indoors, when she was kicking and pushing and yelling to keep him from forcing his cock into her. We said nothing.

Chris then dove in and said, directly to me, “It’s probably too late, but you should know some things about me … about my past that I never told you.” The next hour revealed lurid tales, things that made me ashamed as a man and, I could tell, had the same effect on Rick.

I was, contrary to what I believed, not her first husband. Her first marriage had ended in an annulment within a year because it had never been consummated. It was, I reasoned, legally as though it had never been, so Chris leading me to believe I was her first husband was explainable. And, to be fair, I had never probed into things like exactly how many guys have had you – it just wasn’t the sort of question easily or respectfully asked. It was enough that we had committed to each other. I said as much, to forgive and close that door into her past. She stopped me: “I knew you would say that. I wish I realized sooner the sort of man you were … you might have forgiven me before it was too late.” I wanted to say, “But it’s still not too late …,” but I held my tongue because I couldn’t give a blanket pardon not knowing what it was she was going to say and because, and this is hard to admit, I wasn’t sure if I was up to the task of forgiveness. The hurt and betrayals from infidelity to credit card bills that had been hidden, although they may have flowed from the past issues and lack of self-esteem and could be mitigated by her past, had still left wounds.

Was it wrong, at a certain point, to hold someone, regardless of their past, to their sacred vows? At some point, aren’t we responsible as a matter of character? She had been a liar, a slut, a cheat, a whore. And then, I turned the question around and asked myself whether I had not, myself, done things I would never have done because of the past. Hadn’t I used her like a hole, pumping her with my cock and balls covered with the cunt juices of not one, but two, other women? Hadn’t I, with my friend, put surveillance equipment in her apartment without her knowledge? Hadn’t I just watched as my best friend fucked her to orgasm, squirted her pretty face with his cum and unloaded a second time deep in her? These things would have been unimaginable to me but for the past events I have shared. It was all about context. Chris was giving us her “context.” We were listening.

We learned that although her first marriage had been unconsummated by her husband, he was a voyeur and, more than that, set up situations, starting with their wedding night, where she would be fucked by others. He was a man of bizarre tastes. Apparently, during their short marriage, her husband pressured her into performing for him with a series of men. It was a freak show. Chris said, “You probably want to know how many. And the truth is, I don’t know.” She put her face in her hands, hiding her shame and said: “You have to know how little I knew about sex and marriage and what was supposed to be.” He took particular delight in having his young beautiful blonde wife fucked by older men, often obese, and, more than once, she had performed for him with two or more of these men fucking her without any protection. He particularly enjoyed them mocking her flat chest, calling her a “titless wonder” and rubbing their semen into her small breasts to “help them grow.” The sick bastard must have gotten off good watching them spit roast his young blonde wife, his cheerleader, his gymnast, cock in her mouth beneath a mammoth gut and another gut resting on her ass as she was taken from behind. Sometimes she would have to give them prolonged blow jobs to get them hard enough to perform. One really old guy could barely perform. She said something odd then that made sense later, adding, under her breath: "I was good at that."

I wonder if you can imagine my shock when I heard the phrase “titless wonder.” Where had I heard it before? Yes, I remembered: Ralph the prick of an RA at the dormitory who had taken her virginity, had christened her “The Titless Wonder,” when he was tormenting her first boyfriend, Mark. Was this a coincidence? We didn’t have to wait long to find out.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Leo96 » Sun Apr 22, 2018 12:09 am

Good twist here. A good flashback to make us understand what shaped her present character and made her the lady she is now
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Apr 22, 2018 6:23 pm

Leo, this is the part where I felt really bad. You see, I had never inquired into her past - out of respectfulness and because I figured it didn't matter. You marry a person who is the product of their past experiences, right? So, why dredge up ancient history. What I didn't realize is that a person is the product of past experiences, but you may never get to a place of true intimacy without knowing what shaped them. Accepting the past because it created the person you marry is one thing. Knowing who you're marrying is another. So, my discovery goes on.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Apr 22, 2018 6:40 pm

Chris explained. She had come from a fundamentalist religious background. “I didn’t know anything about marriage, except what I had been taught from the Bible. Ephesians 5:22: “Wives submit yourself to your husbands …,” Chris said, “So, I did exactly that.” Her husband was unable to perform normally as a man, so in order to become aroused he arranged more and more elaborate “sessions” for Chris, some of which were truly shocking.

Seeing his beautiful young blonde wife forced to perform was the only route to him being aroused. Blindfolded, she would often hear murmured voices and pick up bits and pieces of conversation as guys joked and guffawed about her, perhaps to overcome their own discomfort. Whispers. “He seems to get off on it.” “Wow. She was a cheerleader and gymnast.” “Look at that blonde cunt.” Laughing. “Flat as a board. Better check to make sure she’s a girl.” At times she would be blindfolded, gagged and spread-eagled on the bed and could not be sure exactly what was happening. She would be repeatedly penetrated, eaten, fingered, fondled, groped and, with shame, there were times when she was made to orgasm, as though that made it okay and consensual. “You see, the slut loves it,” they would chortle.

On one all too vivid occasion, she remembered hearing a man cajoling a reluctant young man, perhaps his son, to “bust your first nut in a true blonde.” He was urged forward to the bed and told “Go on. She won’t mind. She’s used to this. Maybe this will get you interested in women.” Her cunt lips were roughly spread and a smooth, thin cock was pumped a few times to stiffen it and then pushed into her with the words, “Go to it, boy. That’s the way. Show the cunt you’re a real man.” Chris was urged by her husband to “Squeeze him tight. Milk him dry. Show him your signature moves.” She did as she was told and, after a short while and some challenges in the young man’s erection being maintained, she felt her unseen lover’s inexpert movements ending in the spasm of an orgasm and felt semen squirt into her. “Yeah, boy, that’s it.” She never knew who the people were but she thought that some misguided father was trying to get his son to “go straight” with this perverted act. We didn’t press her to say more than she wished to say. It didn’t take much imagination to figure out that there was more.

How had she met this guy? Apparently, the prick RA, Ralph, mentioned before, had not only taken the young blonde coed’s virginity, but he had her perform for his friends. One of the watchers, who never touched her, was her husband to be. She mistook his watching without violating her to be a sign of his kindness toward her, not what it apparently was, a sign of his perverse nature. Apparently her college boyfriend, Mark, in what he had shared with me, had not even scratched the surface. No wonder Chris never felt she could go back to him. She blamed herself for giving herself up to Ralph and once she had crossed that boundary, there was no going back. She couldn’t talk to her parents about this, for reasons that became even clearer, later.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Wed Apr 25, 2018 12:42 am

Ironically, her liberation from the marriage may have come as a product of the same factor that had made it so difficult. She was freed only because her husband was an insulin dependent diabetic whose mood swings and aggressiveness and impotence may have been linked to his problem. Apparently, following an error with his insulin dose, he blacked out while driving and died in a car accident, hitting a bridge embankment. She was able to get the marriage annulled after eight months of “wedded bliss.”

Rick and I were the first people she had ever spoken to about this. We each petted her and comforted her as she unburdened herself. We shook our heads in sympathy and, frankly, anger. Chris seemed to gain strength and went on.

Now these revelations did not come out as coherently as I have just reported them. They came out in fits and starts, mixed with tears, words of encouragement, embraces, comforting pats. Each end was punctuated with: “It wasn’t your fault, Chris” and each new start with “It’s alright, Chris. It’s okay.” A few times, Rick or I would have to ask or repeat what she had just said to make sure we understood and Chris would give a nod or shake her head.

Throughout, I felt awful. Counting our time together before marriage and our time as husband and wife and our time after, I had been with Chris for well over a decade. How had I not known of this? The obvious answer is: I didn’t ask. But, it is also true that she didn’t volunteer things that really ought to have been volunteered – at least, if there is to be hope for intimacy. Once or twice during her halting narrative, I said, “I wish you’d told me.” Her response was always the same: “How could I?” I knew that as time passed, her shame increased.

I wonder how many couples have ever tried to build a detailed chronology of their spouse’s pre-marriage dating history. I’m not sure I would recommend it. Even now I am unclear how long her relationship with Ralph went on or how that relationship ended. How long a time passed from her annulment to our meeting. These facts I simply don’t have.

One thing became clear, Chris was totally alienated from her strict, religious parents. They would never have supported a divorce under any circumstances. In our view, the one lucky break she had – and I hate to say this because if feels so cold, so wrong – was her husband’s death. And although the abominations he visited upon Chris were unfathomable to Rick’s mind or mine, it is also true that Chris never said she had been forced to do anything. She had submitted because, for her, that is what a wife did.

The relationship with Ralph was also one of submission. Once he had seduced the innocent young girl – and seduction was a polite word for it – she had crossed from the world of her parents and the only guidance she had was that wives (and she took this to include lovers) submit themselves. I do remember that during our time together she never refused sex, never “had a headache.” Now, I wonder what that meant.

Her seduction had been simple but effective. He had liquored up the young blonde coed, heedless of the fact that she was in a relationship with Mark down the hall, felt her up, fingered her, and fucked her. He disregarded her weak protests - she had never, in fact, ever been pushed this hard by a horny bastard who wouldn't take "No" for an answer.

Chris felt obligated to honor the man who had taken her treasured maidenhood with, yes, submission. He betrayed her innocence and made her the lewd object of his pleasures. Thoroughly unprincipled, he had proceeded to show her off to his friends and to humiliate her. He had her wear her cheerleaders outfit and would push her down on his friend’s laps inviting them to feel her up. He would strip her, with her fair complexion turning red with embarrassment, to prove that she was a true all over blonde, pointing out her fine natural golden pubic hair, and mock her flat chestedness, dubbing her “The Titless Wonder.” He hosted card games where she would be given to the winner for one minute. Some of them used their minute to best advantage by removing their underwear during the hand so they could fuck Chris’ TBT (tight blonde twat) in the allowed time in the event they won the hand. He had drifted in and out of her life – even doing her during his friend’s marriage to her. He was an unadulterated prick. And the situation was vile.

It was only around midnight that Chris finally revealed how her upbringing had left her so alone. So very alone.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Thu Apr 26, 2018 3:59 am

As disturbing as her revelations had been to this point, what Rick and I were to learn at this point was shocking. I'll be very interested in your take on things as it took a while for me to sort it out myself. Thank you.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Apr 29, 2018 3:25 pm

Chris had been an only child, brought up by older parents. Her mom was already in her early forties when Chris was born and her mom had been the second (and much younger wife) of her dad, who was already in his sixties when Chris was born. Her dad was the absolute ruler of his household and his pretty wife barely had a voice of his own. As Chris became a pre-teen and then teenager, her father’s authoritarian grip on the household tightened. She was forbidden to wear “revealing clothing,” so she was sent to school wearing long dresses that covered her arms and legs. Jewelry, movies, even cutting her blonde hair, were all off limits. Chris was a good student and, as quiet as she was, her blonde hair, blue eye, and fresh looks drew the attention of the boys.

Chris, as she approached her mid-teens, would leave the house wearing the clothing her father approved of and then switch into more fashionable – and revealing clothes – at a girlfriend’s house. The effect on the boys was positively electric. Her trim figure and fit legs, together with her blue eyes and long blonde hair, garnered her loads of male attention – some of it unwelcome.

Ironically, though, her liberation from the strict rules of her father came at the hands of the young assistant pastor, son of the aged, senior pastor, who headed the strict, conservative Christian congregation. The assistant pastor was Chris’ first infatuation. He was involved with various church ministries, including work overseas and, aside from being tall, dark and handsome, and an allure of having been to exotic places. Of course Chris’ father was eager to please the senior pastor and his son as this gave him more prestige as a lay member of the church. The young pastor headed all the youth groups and Chris felt comfortable unburdening herself to him. She made it known that she was interested in gymnastics and had been approached about cheerleading, but that her father was strictly opposed.

The young pastor had approached his father, now in his eighties and failing in both body and mind, and gotten the senior pastor’s assent to a plan. As explained to Chris’ father, a young woman needed healthy outlets lest she be led into sin and that once she left home she would need to deal with the challenges of the world. A deal was struck, Chris could pursue gymnastics and cheerleading, provided she reported immediately after school to the church for spiritual instruction and prayer and where she could assist in some office help and light clean up. Chris was delighted with the bargain: she could pursue these fun activities and then spend time with the pastor and his son. Her father saw prestige in having been so devout that the pastor recognized his devotion to church teaching, that his daughter would be given additional attention and guidance, and that he had helped her daughter along the path to salvation by involving her more closely in activities at church.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue May 01, 2018 1:21 am

The pastor and his son were interested in Chris’ cheerleading and wanted her to show the, all the routines. They insisted, in fact, that she remain in her cheerleading uniform when she had practices at school and come to the church office still so attired in her short skirt. Chris enjoyed being invited into the pastor’s book-lined office, which had always been a place of mystery. She enjoyed the attention and the senior pastor would sit behind his desk and his son alongside him standing while Chris performed. Sometimes, Pastor Greg (the young minister) would ask her to repeat a certain move, usually one involving her jumping – so, I guessed, that her skirt would briefly flip up (?!) showing off her panties. The senior pastor would look at her with a vacant expression. After ten minutes or so, Chris would be asked to do some light clean up and would damp mop the hardwood and vacuum the rug. On more occasions than not, she would be reminded to damp mop under the desk where Chris would find dried spots and a small spray of about a teaspoon of liquid. This remained the regular routine for quite a while. When she was done the three of them would pray together, Chris would get on her knees and the senior pastor would place his hand on her head and give her a blessing, concluding with “You’re a pretty young girl. Be a good girl.”

Rick and I, hearing these revelations from Chris, were scandalized. We knew – and suspect you know – where these disclosures were leading. We were appalled by the hypocrisy of a “holier than thou” senior pastor, probably senile, probably jerking off beneath his desk in his office while a young 15 or 16 year old blonde cheerleader performed her routine for him, all the while his assistant pastor son was looking on asking her to repeat certain revealing routines to help get his father off. Yet, Chris looked back on those times as more good than bad, as the price of her freedom from her father’s severity. She had actually been liberated by it in more ways than one, since her father could hardly turn down a scholarship for gymnastics from a state school even one that put her out of town.

She even held to this belief when things went further.

"Surely," Rick and I said, "your father would have been outraged by this had he known."

"But he did know," she said.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Thu May 03, 2018 9:15 am

By this time, I was raw with a welter of feelings: protectiveness, anger, guilt, shame, and bewilderment. How could I not have known these things? Where had our marriage – our entire relationship – gone so wrong? The things she was describing were so alien to my understanding of the woman I had known. She had been beautiful, but also vain. Demanding, entitled, spending freely of our credit cards, particularly on clothes and jewelry. Was she really this lost, shy innocent girl way down that I am now speaking about?

And was she truly so alone as she described? She had friends from college and I had never heard a word of any of this.

Still, her description of her estrangement from her father rang true. I had never met her father. He had passed some years before Chris and I began dating seriously, at quite an advanced age. Her mother had passed just a few years ago, in her eighties, suffering from some dementia. I had never seen Chris shed any tears over either.

It was clear that her first sexual experiences were outside of the norm. Certainly her marriage never having been consummated and her performing for the voyeuristic pleasure of her husband had been unusual to say the least. Apparently, although married to a beautiful, trim figured blonde, he would only be aroused watching her double teamed by obese older men. Who knew what internal demons he was seeking to exorcise? Ralph had used her, first, taking her virginity, then dominating her and showing her off to his friends as a sex toy. Again, there was a strong component of submission.

Had it all begun with her performing for the pleasure of the senior pastor and his son? According to her, they had never violated her and had always treated her kindly. Their pleasure, perhaps limited by their faith, some rigid moral code, or their own inclinations seemed to be limited to watching her. True, this had escalated to the point where she was blindfolded “to preserve her modesty” while dressed in the white gown of an acolyte, allowing herself to be examined. She would be asked to lay down on the desk, while the gown would be raised gently to reveal her flat chest and nipples and lifted from below, while she would be praised for her fair blonde hair down below and her maintaining her innocence. In the background, she could hear the murmurs of more than one observer – she never knew how many – and even the pastor praising one observer, “You should be proud of such a pure, young Christian girl.” She was certain – but could she be certain(?) – that she heard her father grunt a thank you in response. On these occasions, what she did know was that, while damp mopping the floor afterwards, there were more of these wet spots sprayed about the floor. She also overheard her father telling her mother later that evening that “Pastor says we should be proud. That Christine is a pure Christian girl.” They never spoke of it, but Chris would often wonder later if one of the wet spots on the floor was from her father finding pleasure in seeing her body.

After a while, the senior pastor grew ill and was hospitalized and the post-practice sessions gradually came to a halt as the pastor’s wife and son worked together to handle the office work. The pastor’s wife suggested to Chris that she change into more appropriate clothing before reporting to church to help with the cleaning. And that was that. The senior pastor passed just months into Chris’ freshman year at college. By that time she was out of her father’s reach. She started seeing Mark who was also attending the same school and whom she knew from high school.

She tipped her head towards me and dropped her shoulders so that the blanket dropped to her waist exposing her breasts and still upright nipples.

I drew Chris close to me and feeling closer to her than I had, perhaps ever before, kissed her deeply, kissing the salty tears left on her pretty face and working my way downward.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun May 06, 2018 7:11 pm

If you haven’t kept up with this narrative, then you can how no idea how I was feeling. It is important that you understand that I was in a state of altered consciousness: part inebriation, exhaustion, sexual tension, part shock and dismay, part guilt and shame, part anger, and, as hard as this may be to grasp, part love and protectiveness. I was completely thrown from my initial plan of “payback,” having been driven by the winds of these new revelations onto the very rocks of emotion that I had tried to steer clear of. My mind was whirling with all that I had heard in the last hours. I was emotionally raw. I was not sure how I felt about Chris any more. I knew this, I needed to taste her, smell her, devour her, lick her, suck her, fuck her, ravish her and make love to her all at once. I needed to thrust my cock into her tight blonde cunt and fuck out of her all the miserable experiences she had been subjected to over the years. I needed to take all my anger and pain and love and fuck it into her and, at the same time, caress her and adore her and heal her.

As I kissed down her neck, I could feel her taut muscles, her moist salty sweat, flavored with the sandalwood body wash that was the signature scent of my friend, Rick, his semen and sweat upon her. Her aroma was intoxicating, sexual like a bitch in heat. Images of what she had related to us flashed across my mind. Her lying on the desk in the pastor’s office blind-folded, in her cheerleading outfit, while her young teenage cunt, sparsely covered with platinum and golden pubic hairs, was shown off to a group of old men – perhaps even her own father – while they left their small teaspoons of ejaculate on the floor for her to damp mop away when they were done. Her impotent husband watching her taken by fat fucks double teaming her trim body, concave tummy, fucking her mouth and cunt. Her being pushed by Ralph onto the laps of his friends while they fingered her and mocked her flat chest and pulled their cocks into rigidity to better use her for their one minute if they won the hand. And more: her old hairy bastard of a boss fucking her in our home; her co-worker, Brian, leering, bragging, pantomiming behind her back for all to see that he had just fucked her in the company van, pushing my pretty blonde wife down on her knees so she could blow him in the storage room, and not even stopping when Bob came upon them, but, rather, pushing her head further down on his thin cock. And more still: the “sterile rams” she fucked in empty homes to close a deal just to renege before the cum had completely leaked from her blonde used cunt down her fit well-muscled thighs and the co-workers laughingly setting her up to see if she would put out.

I kissed down her chest to the swell of her breasts, her pink eraser nipples rigid with excitement, me sucking and nipping on them, while my hands roamed crazily from place to place on her body, ever eager, ever hungry. Her tits, her ribs along her slender side, her firm stomach, still nearly as tight as the young gymnast she had been so long ago, down her thighs to her well-muscled calves, her tight, tight ass, and her blonde, tight wet cunt still sticky with Rick’s cum. I slid a finger into her and crooking it within her pulled out a blob of white cum. I was about to go down on her and clean my friend’s cum out of her when she stopped me, grabbed me by my cock and, popping my head in and out, snapping her tight vaginal muscles, she said: “I need you in me. Now.” I thrust deep into her, my dark haired balls slapping against her blonde pussy, and pumped deep and hard and squirting deep in her so that my balls must surely have expelled their contents, I growled: “You fucking cunt.” Then, I shot spurt after spurt of ropey cum deep into her.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Thu May 10, 2018 9:16 am

She clenched her muscles within, milking me dry and working me back into an erection within a minute, she leaned down over me with her breasts hanging in my mouth, brought her tight ass up while I was in her and said: “Rick, do me from behind.” What the fuck?

Rick didn’t need to be asked twice and climbing behind Chris and over me he reached down and rubbed her juice, my cum, his cum, and everyone’s sweat into her anus and then, without another word, spit into his hands as though getting ready for heavy labor, rubbed the spit on his cockhead and pushed – pushing his thick cock into Chris’ asshole until for a moment his balls were brushing against mine. I felt her accommodate him in her ass as a pressure along the length of my shaft buried in her. It was a different feeling than I had ever felt before - and amazing. Then he pumped another load into her as she screamed in orgasm, rubbing her clit with her fingers and against my cock imbedded within her. His cum was dripping down from her anus onto my balls and, surprisingly, I squirted again in the excitement of it all.

We all collapsed naked into her bed. I slept a deep, dreamless sleep. Rick and I had another go with her as I was awakened in the early morning to see her riding Rick’s cock and, seeing I was up, Chris bent over and put her mouth on my cock and balls, licking and sucking, deep throating, and eventually jerking me off into her mouth. For a brief instant, I flashed on all the other cocks that her mouth must have seen. I saw Rick go rigid a minute later and Chris milk him with her tight cunt as she rode him to glory as he grunted off his load while he pulled and squeezed her tits, running his hands from her shoulders to her pussy.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Leo96 » Fri May 11, 2018 8:28 am

A much deserved tag-team. No doubts, she wasnt treated right during her younger days which shaped her into what she is now. But gradually, it seems like she has accepted it and more than that, she has started loving being a whore. She has started enjoying being independent, bold and to get all that she wants, no shame, no lies.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun May 13, 2018 11:23 pm

The next days were like a blur. I would find excuses to drop in on Chris and each time I would find myself fucking her tight body, usually not even taking the time to get into the bedroom. I was making excuses to Veronica and Mei, but still checking in.

Later that week, I dropped in on Chris and she seemed startled to see me. I pulled her blouse out of her skirt and felt her flat, firm tummy and worked her skirt down to where I could see the top of her trim golden pubes. I hungrily worked my mouth down her tummy towards her cunt and before I could get there, Chris said, sharply: “I really need to take a shower.” She did and I had the pleasure of feeling her skin still warm from the hot water of the shower, soft and firm, spreading her nether lips and devouring her blonde pussy.

I wasn’t sure what perturbed me at the time and I couldn’t be certain but it came back to me in a rush as I was driving away: I had smelled on her the merest tincture, the slightest whiff, of an earthy, spicy scent that I could not quite place.

Now you have to know that putting the surveillance equipment was something Rick and I were never going to admit. The way we figured, though, it had, in the end, actually accomplished something good – saving Chris from a brutal attack. At week’s end, I went over to Rick’s as I had done many times before and at the point when we would usually have checked in on Chris remotely. We saw my comings and goings and that was all. We kind of agreed, without ever saying it, that this had run its course. It was resolved this way: “Rick, I think it’s time that I took Chris out to dinner again.” He agreed, smiling. I knew that while we were out, he would be removing the equipment.

The week’s hidden cam that Rick and I had reviewed showed nothing untoward. I didn’t want to seem paranoid or jealous. But, her showering a few days before took me back to the time in our marriage where she had denied me the pleasure of going down on her and deep tonguing the cleft of her cunt, working through her soft, golden blonde pubic hair until she was soaking wet. On that occasion, long ago, one of the few times I was more insistent, I had, for a split second as I tried to work down to her pussy, caught a whiff of a different smell, more of a baking soda bitter smell, I had thought. But now I was sure, it was baking soda with the merest whiff of a moist, earthy, spicy scent, not sweet, of sandalwood.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue May 15, 2018 9:15 am

My mind was racing. Could it be? Could Rick and Chris have been having an affair way back, during my marriage to Chris? I had to examine what I knew. Chris had said she didn’t like “gingers.” Chris had said Rick was trying to blackmail her into sleeping with him – that was why he suggested the video camera. Rick had said, he had never touched her, but that he was smitten with her, that she teased him, and that he was only looking to see her (how pathetic, he had remarked) naked as a jerk off fantasy. All of these stories pointed me away from them actually having had an affair. But that is exactly what one would expect two cheaters to do: each give an explanation that diminished the idea of them being lovers.

What if? What if the reason Rick had wanted to be the one installing the hidden cam was because he wanted to make sure that, whatever I discovered on the review of footage, didn’t reveal his own comings and goings? He would have known I was thinking of putting in a hidden cam and, not sure whether I had gone forward on my own, steered clear. Not long after I had put my hidden book cam in place, even before I could confront Chris with the evidence of her doing her old hairy bastard boss, she announced she was moving out. That could be consistent with a bunch of things. One of them would be her and Rick carrying on s hot affair and needing her to have her own place so they could fuck with impunity. I could, apparently, trust no one until I got this resolved.

I had been taken up and down the staircase of feeling in the last weeks. I had been jealous, angry, vengeful, but also had felt connection, desire, passion, and, even, yes, love. In the face of my current doubts, I withdrew into the cool, balanced stance that I had spent so much time cultivating. “I am back,” I thought. I spent the next few days before my dinner date with Chris attending to business and my relationships with Veronica and Mei, both of which had suffered from lack of attention. It’s hard work having relationships. With both women, my renewed attention was appreciated. Flowers, small gifts, and wonderful sex.

I had had a mind-bending experience with Chris, particularly when Rick and I had both fucked her, and whatever the truth of things, it had brought me to a place I had never been before. I thought of the sensation of Rick pushing deep into her ass while she was riding my cock, rigid with anticipation, and how I felt the pressure move along my cock buried balls deep in her. I remembered Rick’s industrious movements and the sway of his hanging balls brushing against my own as he dismounted. I am relentlessly straight, but the sensation in that moment and at that time and place was a turn on. But, I was, perhaps, a man of more prosaic tastes. Rick and Chris, if they had both betrayed me, it could little affect me now. Chris was, after all, an EX wife and free to do what she would. I no longer had the same stake in matters than one has when a wife is a slut, whore, cheater, liar, and runs up the credit cards. Somewhere I knew, deep down, that you could no more build a life with Chris then you could light your house with lightning. And, besides, I had a rare opportunity to use the fuck out of her.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue May 22, 2018 12:31 am

I was, without doubt, in a rare place in terms of juggling relationships. Liberated from commitment I was fucking Chris at will, while still carrying on with my young Asian dalliance, Mei, and the more mature brunette, Veronica, Chris' former colleague. It couldn't last, I knew, but while it did I was going to enjoy it.

I enjoyed Mei’s youthful exuberance, light-hearted laughter, and uncomplicated sexuality. Her taut young figure drew all eyes to her when she worked as a server at work. Sometimes, I would take a seat at the bar, have a sake, just to watch her work. I loved the play of muscles in her neck, shoulders and arms as she reached across the table to serve the plate of sushi. (Yes, she worked at a well-known sake house.) You could sometimes see the beginning of the swell of her small, firm breasts, but the small, rigid dark nipples below were for my eyes alone. For me, however, the best part was how men checked out her figure as she approached. You could practically see them breathe in her scent as she leaned across the table. That scent, not infrequently, included a sheen of sweet perspiration and the residue of my own sweat upon her in a frenzy of passionate love-making, often just moments before she had to leave for work. While men ogled her, I alone, knew that my cum was still leaking out of her tight, young, thin, straight black-haired Asian cunt. She had once confessed that she remembered me all evening long as her panties grew damper with the residual juices of our love-making. Experience had taught her to bring a second pair of panties if her juices threatened to run down the inside of her tan, firm thighs, lest a customer detect the moisture on her leg as she bent over. These revelations thrilled me as a man and often promised wild times after work, on those occasions when I swung by to enjoy another bareback fuck with my young Asian beauty. This was the life.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Wed May 23, 2018 11:57 pm

And then there was my time with Chris' former colleague at the real estate office, Veronica. Were it not for the mental space I was living in, this could have been serious.

Veronica’s feminine beauty was at its peak, as a woman in her early forties whose figure was no longer a matter of genetics and good luck, alone, but also the product of hard work, training, Pilate’s and being a gym rat a few times a week. Her abs were flat and her legs and arms were lean and well-muscled. Her vulva was covered with a trimmed dark “V”, but her labia were exposed and ever tongue-ready. Her feminine aroma was sweet and, just before we went out for an evening, when her makeup and hair were perfect and her revealing dress ( showing arms, back and legs) and heels ready to wow the world, I loved to push her down on the edge of the bed and work my head up between her thighs, to pull her panties to the side, while I spread her lips with my tongue and worked my tongue into her until I was rewarded with a payload of clear, slippery secretions that betrayed her arousal. I ran my tongue along the outside of her long legs up to her thighs, around the edges of her cunt, periodically flicking her prominent clitoris. When it stiffened, I could nip and suck it and she would reward me with a gush of fluid. I would unzip my fly, remaining fully dressed in my suit and tie, and thrust my thick cock into her until she tightened with orgasmic pleasure, squirting my load into her with spurt after spurt of my cum, reciprocating her own fluids. Then, zipping up, adjusting my hair that she had grabbed in her passion, I would say, coolly, “Shall we go? What’s taking you.” She would laugh, “You’re so bad. You’re so bad.” Then pull herself together for a night of stolen kisses in public and roaming fingers beneath the linen table cloth of a fine restaurant.

So, tonight, I was back in command as I headed to Chris’ apartment to pick her up for dinner. As they say: “Trust. But verify.” I took my trusty book cam with me to Chris’ when I went to pick her up for dinner.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sat May 26, 2018 8:04 pm

I returned to the basics of self-mastery. I was dressed in my new jacket and slacks, the new shirt freshly pressed and unbuttoned at the collar, My Infiniti was still new-car-smell fresh and I had taken a moment to make sure the leather seats were meticulously cleaned. I had even had the car detailed to bring it up to perfection. I had visited the gym earlier and had a massage, spent some time in the steam room, Jacuzzi, and sauna and was freshly shaved. I used some Bay Rum skin toner to leave me with a masculine scent that Chris would like. Oh yes, and I swung by Mei’s place before she left for work and stuck my cock in her Asian twat just to make sure I had her cunt juice still sticky on my cock as I left to pick up Chris for dinner. Mei had reached orgasm with my finger and I had not given up a load – I was saving up for dessert. Just a bit of a confidence builder.

I reminded myself that Chris was my EX-wife and that I had no control over her, nor any obligations to her. If she chose to lie, she could lie, but cheating was no longer within her power because we weren’t married and had no agreements regarding fidelity. If she had the morals of an alley cat, so be it. If she chose to fuck my friend, so be it. At least, she was an EX-wife alley cat, with a natural blonde pussy that I could use for my pleasure without recrimination or guilt. I had fucked her trim, tight body thousands of times over the years I had known her, usually once or twice a day during our marriage. She may have been damaged by her experiences, true or false, but her cunt was still in superb condition, tight and wet, a real snapper who could snap down with her cunt muscles across my cockhead as I entered her and with each stroke, her back arched and hips flexing up and back, milking me dry. In short, I had regained control of myself pulling back from the emotional brink with my suspicions of her latest betrayal – fucking my friend Rick behind my back and likely, I now thought, during our marriage.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Mon Jun 04, 2018 10:21 pm

My preparation was necessary because, in her own way, Chris apparently had the same plan of action, although hers arose from her instinctive, reflexive need to compete for the adoration of every man she met. When I came to the door, Chris, knowing that we were going to a high-end Asian restaurant, had dressed in her tight, red satin, Chinese “wiggle” dress, so-called because the dress is tighter across the knees than the hips causing the wearer to “wiggle” when walking. Appearing “conservative” in that it covered her shoulders, back and breasts, it was unbelievably sexy: it was skin-tight, showing off her upright breasts, tiny waist flaring out to her trim hips, then tight down her thighs. It provided to perfect contrast to her blonde hair, which she had pulled back in part and let part drape her red satin clad shoulders,come forward as bangs with loose ringlets over the sides. I concealed my smirk, thinking, I’d fuck her out of that dress in the next few hours. No puppy dog tonight, just a merciless pounding fuck until I’d emptied my balls into her tight blonde cunt. I would be getting what every guy who saw her craved.

Those were my thoughts. My words, smooth and cool, were these: “You look lovely tonight.” A statement of incontrovertible fact, but no school boy exuberance. I would enjoy her as the sculptured piece of meat she was: disloyal, slutty, but beautiful. I would enjoy seeing her turn the heads of all the men and watch the jealous snarling of their wives and girlfriends as she walked to and from our curtained booth in the restaurant – I had chosen the restaurant well.

I made sure we had a private table and that we could sit side by side. My coolness must have been maddening to her because she began pressing her thighs against mine to get a reaction. I held off, engaging her in conversation, listening to her drivel on about her thoughts while I drank it in dispassionately. I delighted in the fact that she had run out of buttons to press to manipulate my feelings. After we had completed most of a bottle of Chateau Margaux, I whispered to her: “You’re quite the slut, aren’t you?” She was taken off guard. I continued: “Is there anyone who you won’t fuck, you whore?” I had never spoken like this to her before. I knew something she didn’t know: although she had told her tale of woe about her youth and college and first marriage, she had owned up to nothing of her infidelities during our marriage, with her boss, with her co-worker, with her “sterile ram” customers to close deals, and now, I suspected, with my friend, Rick.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue Jun 05, 2018 10:59 pm

Somehow I knew that she craved and thrived on this degrading talk. How else to explain her acceptance of the handling she’d received at the hands of the pastor, Ralph, and her first husband? I continued, whispering ominously, “I bet you’d like me to take you to the men’s room right now and offer that tight blonde twat of yours to passersby, wouldn’t you?” Get to the women’s room right now and I expect you to come back with your panties in hand so I can see if you’ve been fucking around. She got from the table without a word of complaint, in full compliance.

Somewhere along the line, I had learned about treating women with respect. Certainly, that had been the model of my behavior during my marriage to Chris. Now it was as though someone had turned on the light in a dark room where Chris’ motivations had been hidden in shadow. If you remember the old TV show, “I dream of Jeannie,” you will remember that an astronaut finds a magic lamp in which dwells Barbara Eden, a beautiful “genie” (Jeannie). The whole series is based on Jeannie adoring the astronaut, Captain/Major Tony Nelson, and him getting into fixes. It is remarkably chaste. Somehow Captain/Major Nelson never figures out what every red-blooded American man knew – namely, what to do with a beautiful woman who will do anything for you. Well, I had been like Major Nelson. Now I knew what I had on my hands in Chris. You might not be able to trust her. But, you could use the fuck out of her for fun.

Chris came back to the table and I enjoyed seeing the guys checking her out in her incredibly tight red satin Chinese dress. Not too many women could have pulled it off; the dress was so tight that it showed the curve of her breasts, her flat tummy, even the concave curve from her ribs, her tiny waist, her trim hips and thighs. She couldn’t help it, as the cartoon beauty said in the movie, “Roger Rabbit”: “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.”

I stood up and she slide sideways along the cushioned bench seat in the booth, then she up clipped her small clutch and pulled out a silky red pair of panties, held them out at arm’s length, revealing her toned arms where the deltoid curves into the triceps and the fine blonde down on her forearms, and said: “Happy now?” The drapes on the booth were half closed and leaning back, I put the panties to my face and inhaled. Fresh, clean, slightly moist pussy. Unused pussy. At least tonight, I had gotten there first.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Thu Jun 07, 2018 1:51 pm

“Let me check to see if you have your panties off,” I said. I reached over, ran my hands up her thighs under her dress and managed to reach a finger in to brush against blonde trimmed twat. “Scoot the dress up a bit,” I said, not doubting for minute that she would do as I had asked. For a dress that was tighter around the knees than the hips, this took some work. But she was finally able to get the dress up to the top of her thighs. I began to rub my thumb up and down her slit until it could easily slip in. Nice, clean, tight and wet.

I kept this up with my left hand, the table cloth concealing my ministrations below. Even when the server came in to see if we wanted dessert or after dinner drinks, my thumb remained imbedded in her. I could feel her periodically tensing and squeezing my thumb. I ordered a dessert to share, some espresso, and some Cointreau. I began to smell her sweet aroma wafting up from beneath the table. “Maybe I should take you to our favorite bar, now?” I asked. “What do you think?” She seemed perplexed. “To show you off to your friends, I mean.” She didn’t respond. “I know you like to brag about that blonde pubed twat of yours, maybe you’d like to relive your old shenaningans, you slut.” She whispered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, really, so you don’t think I know about you letting that guy hook his finger into your tight little twat?” She was surprised, “You saw that?” “I know all your slut secrets,” I said. “All of them?” she said. “Yes, my dear, all of them.”

By the time we had finished our Cointreau and I had paid the check, she was squirming. In fact, as I learned in a few moments, she had left a four inch across wet spot on the cushion of the booth bench. When she saw it she was embarrassed. That was good to know as I thought she was beyond shame.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Jun 10, 2018 8:53 pm

“Let’s give it a few minutes,” I suggested helpfully. She looked positively relieved. I motioned for her to stay in the booth, took a half step out of the booth and flagged down the host and gave him a twenty dollar tip with the request that we be given some uninterrupted privacy for a few minutes. I had chosen the restaurant well. The curtains alongside the booth were pulled closed as I side back alongside Chris. Chris didn’t want to sit on the wet spot. I had a solution for that, too. “Get under the table.” She was startled by the command. I didn’t repeat myself and she worked her way under the table, hidden now by table cloth and curtains (for my comfort, I thought, not hers). Major Nelson had nothing on me. “Now get to work. Pretend you’re closing a real estate deal, you whore.” I pulled my pants down (going commando) and my rigid cock, still covered by Mei’s Asian pussy juice and throbbing with excitement from the evening’s sex-charged events, sprang up. “You know what to do, you fucking slut.” Indeed she did.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Mon Jun 11, 2018 10:48 pm

Unlike some beautiful women who never had to learn to please, Chris, I knew, had proven herself to be submissive. By her telling, and for reasons I will go into later, there is still doubt about this, she had performed all manner of sex acts for her first husband’s pleasure, including letting obese bastards double team her trim young body. Unfortunately, for her last husband (me), she was also an easy target, a high-strung, sex object, with the morals of an alley cat. “On the other hand, Major Nelson,” I thought to myself, “she was also a fellatrix extraordinaire.” (Or, to put it less elegantly, a talented cocksucker.) In short, she was a cunt. I knew that now.

“Put that lying mouth of yours to some use,” I urged her. In the tight quarters, I simply had her hands holding my ankles while I pushed her blonde haired head deep down on my thick cock, fucking her pretty face. I didn’t give a fuck if she gagged. She took me deep and even serviced my hairy balls. I took special pleasure from the knowledge that she had just cleaned my Asian girlfriend’s cunt juices from my cock and balls. “I hope you liked your Asian restaurant experience, dear?” Then, taking a chance, I went still further and said in loud whisper “because you just cleaned my Asian girlfriend’s cunt juice off my cock.” She must have heard what I said because she started to rear back as if in protest realizing the aroma on my cock to be the residual juices of my young Asian girlfriend, Mei. I was relentless. I held her head firmly and thrust even deeper, pushing her pretty face so that her mouth was stretched obscenely around my cock, her pert nose pressed into my dark pubic hair, which contrasted with her own fair locks.

One more deep push and I was there. She pulled back as I shot my first spurt down her throat and was in perfect range as I painted her eyes, nose, cheeks, chin, throat and hair with volleys of cum. I pulled up my pants and she scrambled blindly up from under the table, a pretty face made a perfect mess by my unusually heavy load. I carelessly tossed her a linen napkin as she dabbed at the cum that had plastered one of her eyes closed and tried to make repairs. I didn’t give her much time. And the linen napkin wasn’t very absorbent. I emerged from the booth with Chris in tow.

As we left the restaurant, I marched Chris before me. After her all too hasty repairs, not having been given time to use a mirror, she still bore some of the indications of the load I has spurted some few moments before: there were tell-tale patches of still wet cum on her face, there were some drops left on her throat and upper portion of her satin dress, her bangs and hair by the side of her face still showed small wads of cum stuck in the blonde tresses and a few hairs were still plastered to her skin at the margins of her pretty face. I give her credit though, she mustered all the cool dignity she had and in her sublime beauty, her figure displayed by the tight-fitting red satin dress, feeling the effects of the wine and liqueur, and in the relatively dim light of the restaurant, she still drew all eyes upon her as she led the way to the door. The only indications of embarrassment were the red blotches on her throat that appeared on her fair skin when she was aroused. I don’t know whether the small wads of cum were visible to the observers. But, I do remember, distinctly, and with pleasure, hearing the bartender say to the male host just as we left, as the door was just swinging closed behind me, presumably referring to me: “Lucky bastard.”

He had no idea.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Leo96 » Wed Jun 13, 2018 11:36 am

Super hot
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Mon Jun 18, 2018 5:52 am

I was still not clear myself what to do with Chris. The truth is, given the ability to do anything, the limitation did not rest on what Chris could be made to do, but, rather, what I would want to do. Were there limits? And how would I be affected by the choices I made? I had already gone to the edge of my comfort zone. I had her remove her panties and present them to me for inspection. I had fingered her until she had left a wet spot on the cushion of the bench seat in the restaurant booth. I had had her deep throat me and take a load down her throat and in her face, then paraded her through the restaurant in her still soiled state. Within recent weeks, I had shared her with my best friend, Rick, who DP’ed her ass while she rode me. She had shared amazing details of her past before we met, things I should have known, but did not know. And, I felt with a sickening, gut wrenching, but growing certainty, she had cheated on me with Rick, not only in the last weeks which could scarcely be called “cheating,” since she was now my EX-wife, but during our marriage, as well.

Perhaps I should have been angrier, but my knowledge of her infidelities, already told here before (boss, co-worker, customers) could not appreciably change my assessment of her character by adding one more to the list. Yes, Rick had deceived me, but our history was long and rich, and I was not one to deny an entire friendship because he had been caught in the gravitational well of her beauty. After all, I had been as well.

Those who have seen her have felt it. How many men have been captivated by a woman whose beauty was such that clouded the mind into attaching all manner of virtues to its possessor? “Truth is beauty, beauty truth” said one poet named John (Keats). “And swear, no where, lives a woman true and fair,” wrote another poet named John (Donne). Even the poets couldn’t agree! It was difficult, very difficult, to look at her and see past her beauty.

My conscience, my relentless conscience, was clear in terms of our marriage. If she chose the route of the cheater, the liar, the whore, the slut, it was not because of ill-treatment by me. I knew that. She did it because it was in her nature. In my heart, I still had not quite extinguished the hope that she could be reformed. In my head, I knew that that hope would lead to despair. Some men, of a different stripe than I, would have no problem sharing a wife of such beauty. But couples that share in a respectful way can do so because they can distinguish between love and sexual pleasure. To love one’s wife was, I felt and feel, one of the great gifts of human life. But love takes honesty, connection, and commitment and it was not clear that Chris was capable of these things and, now, I doubted we had ever achieved them. Though even saying this hurts, because I remembered those sunlit days and moonlit nights when it certainly seemed as though love was ours. When we would be in one another’s arms and fall asleep that way and wake up that way. When, long ago, things were simple. When, long ago, I was happy.

Now as we waited for the valet to bring the car by, I saw my blonde ex-wife shiver in the cold. I put my jacket around her shoulders and she looked up at me with that pretty face and light blue eyes that had launched a thousand dreams, only to set them ablaze and sink them in the ocean of her vast infidelities. Those who know me know that I have reacted to salvage my manhood from the thousand humiliations inflicted upon me. I had been a faithful, even doting, husband. I had been in love with this woman. But, in the end, did I ever know her?

Heaping indignities upon her. Having her spread for strangers, get fingered in bars or fucked on the cold dirty linoleum floors of public rest rooms, having her screwed by customers deceiving her into believing that sex with her would close the sale, none of these things would prove anything. Such acts could answer nothing.

So, being the man I am, but being a man nonetheless, I reached a compromise. I opened the door to the car for her as though she was a princess. I took the keys from the valet. I drove to a dark road away from any street lamps or houses. There, I stopped, ordered her to get into the back seat, but first to strip absolutely naked. In the shadows of night, I saw her shiver, the curve of her firm breasts and upright nipples, her impossibly perfect stomach curving inward from her ribs, her tiny waist, and toned legs, the curve of her neck, her back, her throat, and even the mound of her pubis. I could feel her warm breath and her willingness to please. Her desire to seek forgiveness in the only language she knew.

I pushed her down on the back seat and ran my hands deliriously over her breasts, tight stomach, firm thighs, trim hips, and thrust my tongue into her blonde pubed muff and discovered the sweet abundant lubrication of a woman ready to be taken. Then, being the man I knew myself to be, I unzipped my fly, pulled out my cock and fucked the shit out of her.

For the second time that evening, she left her juices on the seat beneath her. This time, however, on leather.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue Jun 19, 2018 7:17 pm

After passions were spent, in the cold, on the dark grassy shoulder to the side of the road, Chris wriggled back into her red satin dress and walked barefoot to the passenger side of the car holding her shoes. I pushed the door open, having started the car already to warm it up against the chill of the night arm. I could see her slide into the seat with a shiver and the lights from the dashboard were sufficient to see the fair blonde down on her arms with goose bumps from the cold. I ran my hands across her arms to warm her up.

On the drive back to her place, Chris was silent. I said to her, “You shouldn’t have cheated on me, you cunt.” I was surprised to see her take my words as though I had delivered a lash, flinching with a jerk, almost as though she had a conscience. I could not resist feeding my jealousy further, feeling that pain anew. “So, tell me, I understand that the guys in your office would steer ‘sterile rams’ your way as a joke, you know, to see if you’d put out. How was that for you?” The look on her face was priceless. She apparently had heard the phrase ‘sterile ram’ before, but she didn’t realize that I knew it or that the guys in the office had been setting her up. I could tell she didn’t realize that was what had been going on. “Oh, you didn’t know? You really are a stupid whore, aren’t you?” I was exploring the bounds of my pleasure from cruelty here. “Did you even bother to wear panties to work? Or did you find it easier to work without them?”

I knew that Veronica tried to explain things to her, to help her. Chris was, after all, becoming a laughing stock in the office, perceived as a pretty, but desperately insecure and inept sales agent, who would try sleeping with her male customers to close a transaction, just to have the guys renege, boasting of their having screwed her with other sales agents with whom they actually did deals that earned commissions. As you might imagine, this was an embarrassment for the other women agents trying to maintain their professionalism in the eyes of the male brokers, so Veronica’s proffer of guidance was motivated by self-interest as well as pity.

Chris was sobbing quietly at this point. She tried to explain that when she realized she’d gotten in trouble with credit card spending, she had become afraid that I would find out. I had already gone through the ritual once of cutting up her credit cards and even paying one card off and leaving that account active so she could build responsible credit. I was, at that time, a devoted, loving spouse. I even read a book, “How to Keep the One You Love from Spending,” or something like that. This did not stop her from opening up new accounts using her office address and running up the balances again behind my back. Or from making a show every month of her showing me her paid off, minimal or zero balance on what I thought was her remaining account. No wonder she was desperate to pay off those other new accounts. She thought I would leave her. Ironically, it was her cheating, not her spending, that led me to divorce her. Indeed, she had already moved out and been “confused” before I finally cut the cord.

Her face was still streaked with tears and dried cum when we got back to her apartment. I knew that Rick had, hours before, completed his removal of the hidden cam surveillance we had installed in her apartment. So, when she went to the bathroom to wash up, I took the handy book cam I had tucked under my belt as we left my car and placed it on her book case in her bedroom where it could catch the action on the bed. I doubted Rick or Chris would notice.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Fri Jun 22, 2018 9:04 pm

When she emerged from the bathroom, she had once again become a vision of serene beauty. I began my interrogation again, giving my cruel streak expression: “So, Chris, how many ‘sterile rams’ did you fuck? How many times did you bring home ‘sloppy seconds’ for your husband, you blonde cunt?” Over the course of the next minutes I received a number of answers: “I don’t know,” “It only happened a few times,” “a few,” but I could tell it had been more times than she admitted. Her blue eyes filled with tears again as she told me about one guy who had stalked her and began fucking her randomly at various homes. She had concluded he must have inside information, because he was always at the homes with lock boxes and with no one home. The bastard would bareback her, a few times more than once a day, saying he was “leaving a present for hubby” and taunting her with “I hope your hubby won’t mind that I’m stretching your tight blonde cunt so he won’t feel a thing.” He had made her blow him, promising not to leave any evidence of his cum in her cunt – just to conclude “I’ve changed my mind – and fuck her cunt or even her asshole anyway. It sounded as though he really got off on screwing a pretty blonde wife.

I am not particularly proud of my exploration of the cruel side of my nature. Those feelings were there and had been clamoring for expression.

So, pushing her down on the floor, it was particularly exciting for me to take Chris again, almost savagely, telling her “I’m going to have to fuck all those other guys out of you, you whore.” She would flinch with the words as though struck. Pushing her arms down over her head, watching her concave stomach contract as she squirmed beneath me, I slid my thick, hard dark haired cock into her wet natural blonde cunt and delivered punishing thrusts, balls deep, on the living room floor. “You’re a whore, aren’t you?” She shook her head no , but her spread firm thighs told a different story. I had a fantastic orgasm, long and productive of multiple spurts of cum, as I held deep in her and whispered “You shouldn’t have cheated on me, you fucking whore.” “I’m sorry,” she said, and then, grunted and squealed as she came hard, gushing her clear fluids so I could feel them dripping down my balls. “I’m sorry.”
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Jun 24, 2018 11:27 pm

Over the next week I would come over to swap out the battery and memory card of the motion-activated hidden cam. Even with the extra battery and it operating only with motion in the bedroom, I only could get a few hours. Even that much was revealing, though. It became clear to me that Rick and Chris were carrying on – and that my unscheduled visits to fuck Chris were unwelcome and interfering with his plans. Often, just minutes after I had left Chris, tearful and her blonde cunt filled with a good-sized load from me, Rick would come in. Sometimes they would simply play house and kiss and hug. But, the last few times, what I saw apparently was Rick arguing with Chris, upset that she had spread for me once again. He was pacing back and both, literally pulling his hair and gesticulating wildly with his arms, while Chris would cover her face and cry. There was a mean delight I took in thinking: “Turnabout is fair play.” Now, instead of me getting “sloppy seconds,” Rick had to slide in on my cum. I guess it was more fun for him fucking my wife behind my back then it was for him to have me use his “girlfriend” as a cum dump.

I made it a point to come by without calling at unpredictable times just to fuck with them. I would come to the door and within five minutes, I would be pounding a load into her tight blonde twat. On one occasion, I left, then came back a few minutes later, unceremoniously, and without words, pushing Chris down on the floor saying, “You know, I’m heading out for a date with Veronica and I think I still need to take the edge off. How about a second load?” She was scrambling to get to the bathroom before I fucked her again. I realized why a short time later.

Now, I'm not particularly proud of my behavior at this point in time. I didn't know which way to go. I was angry, hurt, lusting for Chris, but not trusting her. I truly wanted something I could never have, but I wasn't quite ready to completely let go. My clarity would come soon enough.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Leo96 » Sat Jun 30, 2018 11:36 am

Hey! Been a while since i was here. Was busy with work. Its good to see you continuing your story mate and its getting ever hot. Something wild going inside you too. Good to discover one's wild face
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Jul 01, 2018 5:11 pm

Thanks, Leo, for your comments and for following along. Feel free to let me know what background questions you have and what parts you relate to the most. Same for other viewers.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Jul 01, 2018 5:16 pm

I had thought it surprising that I hadn’t run into Rick at Chris’ house with the number of near misses. It seemed that as soon as I left, he was over, but he never come over while I was there – even as unpredictable as I had been. Then it occurred to me that Chris was finding an excuse to go to the bathroom at some point each time so she could text Rick that I was there. Figuring this out, it was an easy matter to “misplace” Chris’ cell phone. I couldn’t help but laugh inside as she headed off to her bathroom, but kept looking around for her phone before she went in. “Did you see my cell phone?” she asked at one point. “I thought I saw it on the coffee table,” I said, knowing full well that it was in my back pocket. It was a gas watching the dumb cunt frantically looking all over her apartment to try to find her cell so she could warn off Rick from arriving. She probably lost a few ounces off her already trim bod just looking for the phone in a panic, while I checked her out, cool as ice.

Officially, Rick and Chris figured I didn’t know about them. They would have to answer too many questions, like “How long were you fucking my wife, you traitorous fuck?” Rick probably wasn’t up for the confrontation. So, it was interesting to see how hard Chris and Rick worked to make sure that he never came by when I was there. Since they didn’t know when I would be there, it really screwed with them. Of course, once I began “misplacing” Chris’ cell phone, it was inevitable that, mid-screw, I would hear the door open and Rick calling for Chris. (He had a key! They were playing house after all.)

I emerged from the bedroom, bare to the waist, with my cock still covered with Chris’ juice and with my “hail, fellow, well met” attitude said: “Hey, buddy, what brings you here?” (I pretended as though I had simply left the door unlocked that there was nothing unusual in his presence.)

Rick stammered out some incomprehensible explanation like, “Just checking in to see how Chris is doing on her job search.” “Great,” I said, “She’s right here.” I didn’t bother asking how he’d gotten in, just pretending the door must have been left unlocked. And he wasn’t going to volunteer an explanation.
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Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Tue Jul 03, 2018 8:36 am

“Chris,” I called out to her, “guess who’s here?” She came out wearing a robe, pale as a ghost, and red blotches on her throat and upper chest, a sure sign of arousal – or embarrassment. “Why the robe, cunt? It’s not like Rick hasn’t seen it all before.” With that I tore open her robe, revealing her hard red pencil eraser nipples, her flat tummy, narrow waist, and blonde pubed cunt. “So, Rick, is this what you came for?”

I was trying to provoke a reaction. I wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, but whatever it was, I didn’t get it from either Rick or Chris. Chris, stood mutely her robe open, head bent forward and only slightly tilted, while she pulled nervously, maybe dejectedly, on a strand of her blonde hair hanging by the side of her face. Running the strand through her fingers over and over as though that’s all there was to do in the whole wide world. Just focusing on the strand of hair and tuning out.

“You know, Rick, you can have it. Just put your finger right here – slide it in just like this.” I slid my finger easily into her tight, wet, blonde twat. “Hmmm. Looks like it’s already wet. But then, Rick, you know how that is from both sides now, don’t you?”

Rick was frozen in silence. He didn’t raise a hand or make a suggestion. His hands didn’t clench into fists. They just hung limply by his sides, flapping against his thighs nervously. “I’d better be going,” he mumbled and turned to leave. I spoke in a lower tone, but not unfriendly. “Rick,” I whispered, “don’t you have anything you need to say? Don’t you have anything to say?” With that, Chris looked up at Rick and simply said, “Rick?”

This was not the Rick who had stood up for Chris against her bullying would-be date rapist, Karl. Or was it? I suddenly flashed on something, something I had never considered before. I remembered, or thought I remembered something. Was it possible? Was it possible that …? I took a stab in the dark. “Aren’t you going to stand up for the damsel in distress again?” With that, Rick winced. No, winced he did, but that only captures his facial expression and doesn’t capture his whole body’s language. He cringed. He half held up one of his flapping hands as though to ward off a blow. I pushed down on Chris’ shoulders and, without resistance she dropped to her knees in front of me, ready to do my bidding unquestioningly. I was naked to the waist, with the pair of trousers I had hastily thrown on. Beneath my trousers was my cock, still sticky from Chris' cunt. She would, I knew, take out my heavy, half erect cock and pop it into her mouth and blow me until I spurted in her mouth. All I needed to do was persist. Except she had one question. “Rick?” she asked.

“Unzip me.” I said it not as a command, but murmured it, fascinated by what would happen next. I studied Rick’s expression carefully. And then as Chris reached to unzip my fly, I looked directly into Rick’s eyes and in a split second of profound insight, all the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. I understood everything.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”
Tualatin
 
Posts: 125
Joined: Sun Feb 11, 2018 10:57 pm

Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby HotGomez » Tue Jul 03, 2018 10:05 am

DANG -
A real psychosexually-saturated suspense thriller ....

you got us hangin' !!!!
HotGomez
 
Posts: 16
Joined: Fri Jan 15, 2016 10:59 am

Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Thu Jul 05, 2018 5:41 pm

HotGomez -

Thanks for following my submissions. I promise not to leave you hanging. Away for the Fourth for a long weekend, then I will have a change to let you know how things played out. Feel free to e-mail me.

Thanks to all for your kind patience and attention.
Tualatin
 
Posts: 125
Joined: Sun Feb 11, 2018 10:57 pm

Re: My Cheating Blonde Wife

Postby Tualatin » Sun Jul 08, 2018 10:03 pm

He gave such a minute shake of his head, almost a shiver, that I was not sure Chris had seen it, particularly since she was facing my crotch, awaiting my next directive. Ready, at my command, to pull out my cock. Ready to suck it to full erection while Rick stood there, powerless. Ready to hold my balls in her manicured hands, with their bright red nail polish. Ready to swallow my cum or let it spurt onto her face as she had before.

I stopped. I brushed Chris’ hand away from my fly.

It all made sense now. If you remember the final scene of “The Illusionist” where the police inspector suddenly understands the whole intricate plot, you will have an inkling of my flash of insight. “You’re in love with her?” I asked quietly.

Rick blushed red, but he found his voice. He choked it out in pain. “Yes.”

Chris looked up at him and didn’t see the imperceptible nod of permission I gave him. He reached for her hand and drew her up from her kneeling position before me and she went over to his side. Still exposed in her open gown, with a wave of my hand and averting my eyes, with a light-hearted, almost comic gesture, I said: “Oh, go cover yourself up, Chris.”

You see, I now understood it all.
Tualatin
 
Posts: 125
Joined: Sun Feb 11, 2018 10:57 pm

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