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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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