“Fuck me! Harder! Harder!”
I hissed the words hoarsely into Peter’s ear as he hammered himself deep into my body faster and faster and the wet slapping noises from between my open thighs grew louder and louder.
“Oh yes! Oh yes!” he gasped, thrusting hard and rhythmically, driving his long, slim, familiar cock over and over again into what was, after having had three kids, my rather capacious vagina. “Go on Penny! Go on; you know what to say.”
After over twenty years of marriage, I did indeed know how to ing my husband to a rapid climax.
“Shut up Pete! Just try and use that pathetic little cock!”
I hissed angrily, playing my role as realistically as I could, our bodies colliding with increasing violence.
“Is it really so pathetic?” he pleaded, still thrusting hard into me.
“It’s tiny! It’s fucking tiny compared with HIS huge cock.”
The thrusting grew faster and more frantic. After a few more strokes I could feel the head of his cock swelling inside me. My husband was building up to a climax and wouldn’t have long to wait.
“Don’t stop, Mister Tinycock,” I hissed harshly.
“Oh, Penny I’m… I’m…”
“Don’t talk; fuck me!” I growled coarsely. “Fuck me harder! Try to make me cum! Make me cum like HE makes me cum! If you can!”
The words were those I knew Pete loved; the kind of words that would bring my husband quickly to orgasm – the only kind of words he wanted to hear in bed these days.
“Oh God, Penny… I’m… I’m…”
His thrusts became faster and deeper as his long, thin cock repeatedly battered my cervix but, as usual, I could feel little sign of my own climax approaching.
***
It was Sunday night and we were naked, in our bedroom, in our big double bed, enjoying our usual end-of-weekend lovemaking session. Both I and my attractive, athletic husband of nearly twenty-five years still worked hard at the physical side of our marriage. Even now we were both over fifty and with the kids away at work or at University, looking good, keeping fit and regular sex were still very important to us both.
I firmly believed it was one of the main reasons why our marriage had lasted so well and remained so strong. Both of us had always had powerful sex drives but despite the many opportunities to ‘stray’ that had presented themselves over the last twenty-five years – and I have to confess, a few near-misses on my part – I had remained faithful to my husband throughout.
I had to assume that Peter had been similarly tempted but had never seen anything to suggest he had yielded to that temptation either.
Indeed at a time when most of my girlfriends were enduring the approach or even the full-on arrival of the menopause and many – perhaps most had lost interest in sex altogether, I was still intermittently menstrual and my own sex drive had seldom been stronger.
At that moment only my husband knew this.
At that moment.
Sadly these days the number of copulations with my husband that resulted in mutual climax (or indeed a climax of any kind for me) had seldom been lower and as I lay beneath him that night, legs spread wide, waiting for his throbbing cock to pump my rather over-sized vagina full of semen, I hadn’t come close to orgasm for many months.
That night was beginning to look like no exception. Fortunately, after many years’ practice I had become good at faking it.
***
“Oh yes! Fuck me Pete! Make me cum! Make me cum like he does!”
“How did he make you cum, Penny?”
My husband grunted in time with his quickening thrusts, his face only inches above mine.
“With his huge, thick cock!“
I tightened my pelvic floor around Pete’s erection in the hope of gaining more sensation within my highly aroused but highly unsatisfied vagina. I was partly successful; finally the ridges on the upper part of his shaft began to excite my under-stimulated clitoris.
“Where did he stick it, Penny? Where did he stick that huge cock?”
Pete’s eyes were wide now, his body shuddering, his climax very close.
“In my wet sloppy cunt,” I snarled, tilting my pelvis forward, trying to rub my clit harder against his shaft, feeling the powerful effect my words were having on my husband’s already-tense body.
“In what Penny?”
“In my CUNT!” I growled harshly into his ear. “In my FUCKING CUNT!”
“Oh fuck! I’m going to cum very soon!”
Small drops of sweat fell from his forehead onto my cheek as his familiar, slightly-lined but still-handsome face began to contort and twist and his climax began to take control of his body. I clenched down as hard as I could with my pelvic floor, trying desperately to close my once-tight vagina around his shaft as his thrusts grew faster and faster and his body hammered into mine.
I spread my thighs as far as I could too, opening myself wide, seeking every last millimetre of cock inside me, hoping that the extra depth of penetration would compensate for the lack of girth and that his pubic hair, if pressed hard enough against mine, would stimulate my clitoris enough to give me a desperately needed orgasm.
It didn’t work but it drove Pete to even greater heights of pleasure.
“Oh, that’s good! So GOOD!”
His ejaculation was imminent and would be a big one this time.
“Was. He. Much. Bigger. Than. Me?”
The rhythm of his thrusting began to break and become wilder and more random.
“Bigger and better! He was amazing when he fucked my cunt!”
Pete’s rhythm was breaking, he was about to ejaculate.
“Tell me Penny! Tell me how he fucked you!”
“Hard! He fucked me hard! His cock is SO much bigger than your pathetic little prick,” I hissed cruelly, playing my part as enthusiastically as I could.
“Oh God! Pennyyyyy! I’m cumminggggg!”
I tightened myself one last time around his swelling shaft as hard as my pelvic floor would allow, desperately seeking that extra bit of friction that might bring me a last minute rush towards orgasm.
“He’s twice the lover you are! His cock makes me cum SO much harder than you can!”
My voice sounded hard and angry in the low-lit bedroom but as usual my husband gave every sign of delight.
“Oh Christ, Pennyyyyy!”
Pete’s thrusts lost all remaining rhythm as his orgasm enveloped him.
“Cum then!” I grunted, my harsh words falling over each other. “Cum in me! Fuck me like HE fucked me! Fill me with your seed like HE did!”
“YyyyyyeeeeeSSSSS!”
And with that, the man who had been my husband for over twenty five years began to ejaculate inside my body. Pete’s face twisted and contorted, his back hunched in spasm, his hips ground into mine so hard it hurt. I could feel his long, slim cock pulsating within me, spurting that most precious of fluids against my cervix.
A warm, contented, female glow encircled me as once again my role as a woman was affirmed. It was a glow I knew well and loved passionately; a glow that could almost make up for the disappointment of failing to reach orgasm once again.
Almost.
“Can you feel his cum still inside me?” I asked, maintaining the fantasy as my husband’s body slowed to a pulsating halt. Pete’s weight was on my hips, crushing them into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside me, the way he knew I loved.
“Yes, yes, yes, Pennyyyy!”
“Can you feel his cum still in my cunt?”
“Jesus, Penny!”
I stared up into his still youthful though grey-framed face as he panted. Peter’s hot breath was on my face as his cock pumped the last few drops of semen into my vagina. This was the part I loved so much; the only way I believed lovemaking should ever end. To me, the act of insemination was and had always been the most magical and desirable moment of any mating.
“Oh, yesss!” I hissed, my chest tight with rich but unsatisfied lust.
I dug my fingernails into his clenched buttocks, drawing his body tightly into and against mine.
“Cum in me, Pete! Give me every last drop! Knock me up! Make a baby in me like I want HIM to!”
I felt the throbbing of my husband’s erection subside and closed my eyes, picturing his semen spurting into my body, spattering the entrance to my womb as it had done so many times before. The warm earthy, female glow within me grew stronger, the sensation going some way towards compensating for my lack of orgasm.
But only some way.
Pete smiled, panted a little then chuckled. He gazed slightly dazedly into my eyes, his cock still hard, reaching deep within my body, binding us closely together.
“Oh Penny that was amazing; one of the very best. Maybe your best ever! Oh my God that was good!”
There was no point telling him that once again I hadn’t reached orgasm. Peter would know it himself; I hadn’t even tried to fake it this time. His climax over, my husband gently lowered his hot body onto mine until his muscular chest crushed my tiny boobs, his weight temporarily forcing my thighs even further apart and pressing me hard into the bed sheets. I wrapped my long, still-slim legs around his upper thighs, pulling his body into mine as I felt his spent erection slowly soften within me.
Even after all these years and despite my lack of climax, it was a sensation I adored. It was almost as if feeling a man’s once-aggressive, virile erection subsiding within me somehow represented the triumph of my soft femininity over his hard, masculine penetration; as if in the long run my weak impregnated feminine body was stronger than any man’s temporary sexual power over me.
Maybe I should have stuck with psychology at University, I smiled to myself ironically as Pete’s cock slipped messily from my vagina. I felt a small trickle of wetness follow his flaccid member out of my body, over my buttocks and onto the bed. That strange but increasingly familiar feeling of emptiness passed through me again.
“Wow, Penny,” he smiled down at me, still panting. His face was flushed pink, his voice wobbly but he was obviously pleased. “No question; that was your best yet!”
He rolled off and lay heavily alongside me on the rumpled, messy sheet.
“That was just amazing! YOU were amazing!” he added.
I smiled back at my beaming, handsome husband, trying hard to conceal my disappointment.
“Who were you thinking of this time?” he asked, apparently unaware of the deceit.
“No-one in particular,” I lied.
My reply was unconvincing, even to me. Pete laughed.
“I know that tone of voice,” he said kissing me on the shoulder. “That means it wasn’t a celebrity this time. That means it was someone real. You were pretending to be fucked by someone we know well; a friend perhaps?”
He was right but I wasn’t going to tell him so. There was a long pause before he tentatively added the question.
“Was it Neil?” I said nothing, my face poker-straight.
“Mark then?”
‘Guess your wife’s fantasy lover’ It was a familiar post-coital game and as usual, I didn’t respond but also as usual, Pete tried to trick me into giving away my secret.
“It was Tony, wasn’t it? That’s who it was!”
I said nothing but stared at the ceiling, thinking slightly worrying thoughts as my husband recovered his breath.
***
At the age of fifty-one and with two grown-up children, I knew it was normal for couples in long, monogamous relationships to have to work hard to keep things fresh and exciting in bed. Certainly all the women’s magazines I had read since I was a teenager had told me this, but I hadn’t expected things with my husband to go so far so quickly in what was an increasingly alarming direction.
Fit, tanned, five feet nine inches tall and with a slim, athletic figure, Peter was still a very attractive man. Three years older than me but the same height to the inch, he worked out at the gym regularly, as did I, and took care over his appearance. Both successful in the medical field, Pete and I had a wonderful life together; three confident grown-up children, a large house at the edge of a sought-after village, frequent foreign holidays and of course a good circle of friends.
Since giving birth to the kids, I had tried hard to look after my figure – so many of our friends had ‘let themselves go’ after childbirth – and had been to some extent successful. I was tall for a woman and even at my age was still slim with long legs and dark, shoulder-length hair. My boobs were tiny and had always been, even when breast-feeding and of course there were more lines on my face and my tummy than I would have preferred but in all, we were a successful, attractive couple.
Our sex life had always been active and energetic but after the kids had been born it had started to wane a little. Ten years ago it had been given a kick start by Pete’s vasectomy which freed me from worrying about long term use of the pill and removed the need for the hated condoms we would otherwise have had to use. For a year or so our sex life had soared but after that, things had begun to wane once again until we both realised another boost was needed.
It was nearly five years since we had discovered the joys of phone sex when I had been abroad on one of my frequent trips for work, but only a year at most since the idea of introducing fantasies about having other partners had entered our sex life. Beginning on the phone, then increasingly in bed together, we had started to take turns setting fantasy scenes where it was first tolerated, then acceptable and finally almost compulsory to bring new partners into the mix.
At first it had been exciting, liberating and for months our sex life had been given another massive boost in terms of frequency and intensity as if we were a young couple once again, but over time several things had happened almost unnoticed.
The first was that Pete had gradually started to keep his own fantasies to himself and encouraged me to indulge mine more and more until eventually I realised that for a full three months all of our sex life had revolved around scenarios where I had been having sex with other men.
When I mentioned this, Pete told me he was quite happy; my fantasies coincided completely with his.
The second and more insidious concern was inside my head; the gradual recognition that, in order to maintain the fantastic levels of arousal and climax that our fantasy games had first brought about, I was having to go to greater and greater extremes in my scenarios.
What had started with merely imagining kissing Brad Pitt or George Clooney while my husband watched had quickly progressed in my mind having to full sex with them.
The fantasy sex in my mind had become more extreme too, even beyond the expurgated versions I which were all I dared tell Pete during our sessions. I had now reached the disturbing point that very evening when to get anywhere close to real arousal I had had to imagine the husband of my closest friend fucking me to within an inch of my life before actually making me pregnant in front of his wife and my husband.
Not surprisingly I hadn’t shared all of this particular fantasy with Pete but my mind was still abuzz with the vivid images and there was an unsatisfied glow within my belly, a situation made worse by my continued inability to reach orgasm.
The final and perhaps most serious concern was that for the past few months, very obliquely at first but then more and more overtly, Peter had started hinting that I might – one day and at my own pace – want to turn my fantasies into reality and actually sleep with other men in real life as well as in our games.
At first, I had thought he was simply trying to intensify our fantasy sex. Then I had been convinced I had misunderstood what he had suggested but over time it had gradually dawned on me that not only was he actually serious about me having sex with another man, it also was something he was keen to watch me do.
No stranger to erotic literature myself, I knew that this was not an uncommon male fantasy but it wasn’t something I would ever have suspected my successful, attractive, athletic husband of harbouring.
And yet here he was, straight after making love in our bed, trying to persuade me again.
***
“He’s always had a bit of a thing about you…” Peter’s voice brought me back from me reverie.
“Hmm?”
“Tony! He’s wanted to get into your knickers ever since the Medical Ball when the kids were little.”
“Don’t be silly…” I retorted, trying to conceal the truth of his assertion and remembering how close Tony had actually come to achieving his goal on at least two occasions in the past. I shivered as I remembered that rarther drunken July evening ten years ago when his fingers had first touched my body.
“He’s flirty with all the girls.” I protested aloud in an attempt to distract my thoughts.
Pete rolled onto his side facing me, his fingers toying with my sensitive, still firm nipples then stroking my belly on their way down to the dark triangle below. His fingertips tangled themselves in my knotted, sparse pubic hair before tracing the outline of my swollen, sensitive, still-unsatisfied lips. Instinctively I pressed my knees together as if to restrict his access, then changed my mind and let my thighs part slightly. I felt his fingers brush over my swollen clit.
There was a long pause before he carried on, his voice quiet and reassuring.
“It would be OK, you know,” he whispered, his fingers gently parting my outer lips.
“What would be OK?” I asked disingenuously, knowing full well what he meant but enjoying his delicate finger work below.
“If you found someone you might actually want to fuck for real!”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I just closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on his hands and my body’s increasing response. His fingertips were working their expert way into my slit, stroking my still-aroused body up and down.
“As long as you told me all about it; maybe even let me help out.”
I still didn’t respond. Pete’s fingers found my clit. I felt its hood being raised and a single stroke underneath its sensitive shaft. I shuddered with pleasure.
“Mmmm! Dont stop!” I murmured but Pete waited, his fingers stilled, then repeated:
“I said it would be OK if you wanted to fuck another man…” he began again.
“I heard what you said, Pete!” I snapped, interrupting him abruptly, the erotic magic now well and truly broken. “Don’t let’s go over it all again. Can’t we just enjoy the fantasy? Please! You’re getting weird now!”
There was yet another long pause.
“You didn’t cum tonight though, did you?” he asked, confidently, resuming his stroking between my thighs.
“I enjoyed it, Pete. Really I did,” I protested, trying to relax again and enjoy the sensation building again between my thighs despite my anger.
“When did I last make you cum?” he asked, his stroking growing more confident and considerably more pleasurable. “A month ago? Longer? You’re so good at faking it, I can’t always tell.”
My lips remained closed but it was true. When the fantasies had started I had climaxed so freely and easily that I hadn’t had to fake it for months and months, but now I hadn’t made it for – what was it – three months? No, much longer!
“Did you enjoy it tonight? Really, I mean,” he continued, his fingers now entering my sticky passage.
“Mmmm… it was great…” I lied, forcing a smile so false even my post-climactic husband could see through it.
“Penny, I’m sorry…” he began, his hand now stationary, two fingers within my messy vagina. I snuggled up to him and put a finger on his lips as his fingers slipped from me.
“Tonight was for you. We’ll have one for me next time,” I reassured him.
“Promise me you’ll at least think about it,” he asked, almost begging. I raised my eyebrow suspiciously.
“You’re really serious? This isn’t just part of the game?”
“I’m serious. If I can’t give you what you need in bed then I want us to find someone who can.”
I couldn’t think what to say, but he carried on.
“I’m not asking you to let me sleep with other women too. Really I’m not. It’s all about you.”
There was more silence from me but again he had hit my suspicion spot-on. That was exactly what I had suspected the first time he had raised the idea all those months ago. There was no way I would even consider becoming a ‘swinger’ – I had no desire to see Pete with another woman. None at all!
“Will you at least consider it? Come on Pen, just think about it,” he pleaded. “It seems to turn you on when we’re…”
“Okay! Okay! I’ll think about it!” My voice was almost a yell, cutting off his protestations mid sentence. “But I’m not saying I’ll do anything with anyone, understand?”
Alongside me, my husband beamed with pleasure.
“That’s all I ask, darling. You never know, you might think it’s a good idea after all.”
We lay side by side in silence, Peter looking a little pleased with himself; my head full of contradictory emotions. Whatever I told myself about cheating being unthinkable, the idea of having really great sex again was very attractive. But I’d never really cheated on my husband; despite the ‘near-misses’ all those years ago I was still a faithful wife.
But was it actually cheating if Pete wanted me to do it? And why on earth would he want me to cheat on him?
“How about you let me finish you off right now, like we used to?” my husband suddenly whispered, planting a line of kisses down the middle of my tummy and blessedly breaking my anxious train of thought. His breath was warm and soft on my skin and as his face closed in on the dark triangle between my thighs, he murmured. “I haven’t done this for ages. It always used to do the trick.”
I felt his hot mouth against the soft skin of my upper thighs; his fingers probed deeply into my sticky vagina once again and I realised what he intended to do.
“Pete, No! Don’t! I’m not clean down there. We’ve just… and I’m all sticky. Ohhhhh! Ohhhh Godddd!”
My head fell back helplessly onto the bed sheets, my thighs parting automatically as my husband’s mouth closed on my engorged vulva. Moving between my knees, his head fell between my upper thighs, his fingers gently parted my outer lips and his hot breath fell onto my warm, messy core.
My eyes closed, all my senses focussed between my thighs as Pete’s tongue flicked expertly first along one puffy inner lip, then the other before diving into the dark, welcoming passage in between.
“Pete, don’t,” I protested weakly. “I’m all… Ohhhhh!”
The glow in my belly that had flickered feebly during our sex now began to grow strongly as his tongue slowly and thoroughly explored every soft, moist, semen-covered part of my vulva, finishing with a long, slow upwards stroke across the underside of my clitoris.
“Ohhh, Jeeezzz! Ohhh, Pete! Please! I’m not… Ohhhh, don’t stop!”
My voice sounded slurry and incoherent, my chest now tightening with the force of what I suddenly realised could be a real, massive orgasm, my first in months; IF he kept on doing these amazing things to me!
“You’re full of cum, Pen!”
Pressed against my vulva, my husband’s voice was muffled. I gasped softly as his fingers deftly slid back the hood of my rather over-sized clitoris and the very tip of his tongue danced around its swollen nub making my chest tighten.
“But I’m all messy,” I protested to no effect.
For a full minute or more, I felt his tongue circling my clit, over and under, round and round, making it swell until it felt like it would burst.
“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” My words were slurred by arousal.
“So much cum in you, Penny!”
He paused and I felt his hot breath on my inner thigh again.
“What if it wasn’t my cum inside you?”
His voice was low, harsh and barely audible over my laboured breathing. His tongue dabbed roughly at my clit between every broken phrase, my head spinning madly as my climax began to build and build like a massive wave rising high over my helpless body.
“What if you’d just been fucked by someone else? What if it was HIS cum inside you?”
A long finger entered my gaping vagina, curling upwards towards my G-spot as his tongue laid waste to my engorged clit. The wave of impending orgasm crested over me and began to break. My body went into spasm, my legs closing involuntarily on my husband’s head then falling wide apart.
“OhhhmmmyyyyyGooodddd!”
I thrust my fingers into his hair, grabbing it roughly as his hands slid under my buttocks and raised my messy vulva to his face. His active tongue worked overtime now, on, around and underneath the hood of my hugely swollen, sensitive clit as his fingers dived deep into my vagina leaving me overwhelmed and completely helpless.
“What if it was HIS cum in your belly? HIS cum in your cunt?”
Pete’s muffled voice was harder now, wildly aroused, almost threatening – and I loved it! I felt more fingers entering my vagina, how many I couldn’t tell. I felt them stretching me tightly; twisting and turning within me as if exploring; seeking a special place while still his amazing tongue worked its magic on my clitoris – now so swollen and aroused it was painful.
“What if it was his cum I was licking out of you? His sperm dripping from you? What if he knocked you up, Penny? What if his sperm made a baby in your belly?”
I dimly felt that a line had just been crossed but was too far gone to understand, the pleasure and pain now completely fuddling my mind as a second, stronger wave of orgasm washed over me.
“Oh, yes! OH GOD, YES!” I wailed, exhausted from my first wave of orgasm but desperate for more, as if to make up for lost time.
Pete was relentless, working his fingers and tongue within me with a skill I had all but forgotten he possessed.
“Oh, Jesus! Oh, my fucking Goddddd!”
It was my voice I heard, but twisted and distorted by lust as my husband’s fingers finally located my g-spot and worked their magic inside my body. A final massive tidal wave of orgasmic heat began to roll over me, drowning me in its intensity.
“Cum for me Penny!” Pete hissed triumphantly.
All semblance of control left me; my eyes lost focus, I felt my thighs close hard against the sides of his head, my back arched, my fingers gripped and pulled his hair and within seconds a very real, very intense, very-much-needed orgasm washed over me like a mighty hot wave, rippling outwards from deep between my thighs, making my whole body tremble in his hands.
“That’s my girl,” he hissed, his fingers and tongue still working on my body. “Cum for me! Cum for HIM! Cum like HE makes you cum!”
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh!”
The voice I heard was barely recognisable as my own as for the first time in over a year I had an earth-moving, mind-shattering orgasm that left me exhausted, panting and afterwards capable only of sleep.
But as I came wildly and noisily in our marital bed, overwhelmed by lust, totally abandoned to my own pleasure, it wasn’t my husband Peter’s face I pictured, contorted, inches above mine, filling my anxious, greedy body with his hot, sticky seed!
And as my body flexed and convulsed; my husband’s mouth and hands a frenzy of activity between my thighs, neither of us had any idea what the future held in store.
Or what we, a happily married, middle-aged professional couple would soon become.
