Don & L Jetman's Journal

[don_jetman]

This fucking pandemic. What do I write about when there's nothing to write about?
It's been months since L has fucked another man. Not like that hasn't happened before
- we do go through our libidinous ups and downs. But it's different when we know we
can't. It's different when the "normal" simmers and waits, then boils with the sudden
hunger for a third to share L's body.

For L, it's often about submission, especially after a long period of "normal". It's
about her desire for well-muscled satyrs with an expert sense of how to use her, to
satisfy her, sometimes over and over - a guy who is adept at teasing out the finer,
almost imperceptible triggers of her darker imaginings. Then again, it can often be
something more mundane - an unexpected, uncontrollable attraction or chemistry when
the right man dares to let her know he'd fuck her, and that he's absolutely certain
he will.

For me, it's always been watching L morph from innocent wife to dirty siren,
sometimes in those seconds when I least expect it - a man we meet whom I'd never
expect, or one I'm sure can seduce her if she lets him. It's the tension at times -
will she let him, want him, or does she see through him to the shallow insincerity at
his core? She loves to keep me guessing, flipping from merely friendly to "I want
your cock" with men I may least suspect. Whether I'm right or not - whether I watch
them fuck or not, knowing she's free to get great sex from them is exhilarating.
Watching the seduction, whether from near or far, or her orgasms that reveal
surprising nuances not recognized before, has always added to the intimacy of our
marriage. Sometimes her orgasm can say so much more than hours of talk about how he
was "different".

But when forced to go long stretches of time between the kinkiest sex with her Dom, I
have to admit that her hunger for submission is contagious. There are times when I
long to see us dominated as a couple. Role playing with a powerful man who demands
deference from us, taking her, playing with her like a predator with its prey,
ordering me to watch helplessly or even tied to a chair while he uses her body at the
mercy of his perverted whims - it all excites an empty spot in me that once filled,
only rises up again as time passes. I've given up trying to understand it. By now
it's enough to know that over time my head will fill with these fantasies, slowly,
one at a time, until they become the sole driver of my libido. Waiting until L's
submissive cravings and mine peak together can be torture for either of us, but when
the time is right, drenching our mutual hunger in sometimes surprising taboos is a
drug that keeps on giving.

Over the course of months without active hotwifing/cuckoldry, we've had waves of
desperation-related nervousness and creeping celibacy woven into the "normal" sex
that we always enjoy between role playing. Our fantasies continue to rise to the
surface, building until we try to find our way back to "normal" with the best
substitutes we can manage to create. I've thought about Dr. Bill's nighttime
wandering fever dream of fear and frustration in Eyes Wide Shut, and the newspaper he
buys with the headline in huge font reminding him he's "Lucky to Be Alive". Maybe we
should be satisfied with that.

 

[don_jetman]

~*~

It's still difficult to be satisfied as time crawls on. We've started to talk
about it more and more. L's need to belong to her Dom, even for just a day or two. My
need to watch that, maybe be a part of it as they flaunt it in front of me. We try
role playing it - me as her Dom, tying her, making her wait, then beg. Fucking her
while she tells me how I'm so much better, so much bigger than her husband. We both
get off, but it's not the same, not as satisfying.

So we torture each other day by day, talking, storytelling - all the ways L wants to
be "used" by him, how she wants to show me. She wants me to see it now and claims
it's hotter that way. She wants me to know she doesn't have to "act" more than a
little at the start these days, that the role playing comes naturally to her when
she's with him. She thinks of his parties, the way he implies she belongs to him
then, even with her husband in the room. And then how the men he's invited are fair
game to her, even arranged by him, so she might pick and choose one to fuck, even
before the party ends. But most of all she loves how he makes her, well, not his
slave actually, but something close to that. How he chooses what she wears when we
all go out together, how he shows her off, at times almost handing her over to a
strange man in a bar or a young waiter who drools over her partially-exposed breasts.
But then takes her home and fucks her in his bed with the commanding presence I just
can't quite match when we fuck.

I confess how I love seeing her naked around him when we visit him. Watching their
intimacy, both of them aware I'm being cuckolded and that it excites me. Well, along
with a hint of angst when the intimacy is all too convincing. She's someone else
there with him, so carefree and comfortable while naked all day around us. Shaved and
open for him when she never shaves her pussy at home. I can't help staring at it
then, how it can't conceal her lust for him at times, long before he plays with her
nipples or fingers her so I can see. So I can watch her melt in his hands, see her
juices flow, and accept she's giving up everything to him. He too wants me to see she
can't hide it there, with him. That his little "slut" is relentlessly hungry for him,
for his cock. That he's taken my wife, or at least the woman who was my wife, for the
length of our stay with him.

But I know L has secrets, maybe ones too daring to suggest yet. Deeper, half-hidden,
darker fantasies that only he might tease to the surface and play with. What might
she want that he hasn't already given her? As much as I try to imagine them, after so
many years with him, I can't begin to think of how many new, more depraved ways he'll
use her, and how she'll cum for him then. I wonder how much more of herself she can
give up to him. How much more of her body he'll own, and when we play, the terms I'll
have to agree to that might go with it. He's pushed "too far" before, but then made us
see how it pushed us past what were once fears, and even nightmares, making them new,
open-ended fantasies he can twist and turn, keeping us hungry for more.

So I beg.

"I know you have thoughts you don't share. About him. Maybe really dirty, no, filthy
things you haven't told me about? Let me have just one? Something you really, really want."

She looks away for a second, then back at me, her eyes questioning me. Do I want the truth?

"Welll, maybeee...no. I can't. You'll know when you know. After he knows. Or maybe I'm just
teasing you..."

Fuck.

 

[don_jetman]

~*~

The shit that goes through my head lately. L's working late on a new project. We fuck
all the time, but I can't stop thinking of her on the end of some stranger's big
cock. Naked. Blowing him, Fucking him. Not planned. Just a guy she happens to meet
and has to have. And without a second's hesitation, she lets him have her. But I
imagine a lot of things lately. It's just been so damn long since we've lived out our
fantasies. She probably hard at work in her lonely office.

But there's so much history - so much sometimes I can barely believe it was us, that
it was real. Not that we've forgotten. L uses all of it, almost every time we make
love, or fuck, which ever memory fits. She can retrieve picture perfect moments with
just a few of the right words. As she rides me. As she fucks me under me. The thing
is, sometimes they aren't memories at all. At least not my memories. Sometimes
they're little slips, bits she's censored, pieces of her she never trusted me to see
or know. But I doubt they're slips. She can put a finger on any one of them and flick
it at me like it's horny pixie dust. It lands on me, and I cum.

But I need those times. We need those times. The night we met her Dom, and I knew he
wanted her. It was how he seemed to own her in those first few seconds, and how she
couldn't take her eyes off his. Her Svengali. And her not even a hotwife yet,
although we had toyed with the fantasy, never expecting it to be more. I'll never
forget the gut-twisting effect it had on me. Taking a step back, watching them, never
assuming it would ever be more than a chance flirtation. But the tiny spark was
there, hope that maybe, just maybe, someday L would submit to temptation and fuck a
guy like him. Little did I know that she'd ask me weeks later, if maybe he could be
"the one". It was beyond my wildest dreams that eventually L would submit to every
decadent act he invented. And that we'd both become addicted to it.

Our travel to see him, a thousand miles after we relocated. His infamous parties
attended by swingers, cuckolds, cuckoldresses, and male friends thirsty for a chance
to fuck an innocent wife. We were newbies then, so clueless. But still, we knew why
we were there, why we were invited. Fresh meat. I lost count of how many times L was
seduced there, or how often she seduced her pick of the evening, all with her Dom's
encouragement. I'd watch her flirt with him, then climb the stairs to the bedroom
where everyone knew he'd fuck my wife. It wasn't as though I didn't expect it - and
it got easier as the parties became more frequent. But the first time, well, it was
like walking a tightrope across an active volcano.

It was a Halloween party. He always dressed her there, and Halloween was no
exception. It stretches the credibility of my memory that she'd wear it. He paraded
her down the stairs in front of everyone like a prize creation. Her hair was tied
back in a short ponytail with a pink ribbon. The tight, pink and white halter was
partially unbuttoned, pushing her breasts up and outward showing a hint of her
nipples at the center. The white skirt was almost a belt - too short to hide her
pussy from anyone looking up at her. And everyone looked up as they descended the
stairs from his bedroom. Her face was made up like a plastic anime doll - heavy
makeup with too much eyeliner and lipstick. Big eyes. Pouty lips. Heels so high they
made her prance carefully - not stroll sensuously as I expected.

It wasn't exactly scandalous - I mean, everyone there was in a costume made to show
as much skin as possible. They'd be naked in a pile by the end of the night. All his
parties were orgies, eventually. But he was advertising L as a sex doll to any man who
wanted her. He had made her a thing, an erotic animation brought to life. I would have
been more comfortable if L had been naked. She confessed later that it was the most
exciting thing she had ever done. But it wasn't the first time she's astonished me.

The gym. And her bodybuilder phase. The guy she described as a machine when he fucked
her. No strings. Not much chemistry. It was the way he "handled" her when they
fucked. His power and strength. It was so easy to submit to him, at least it seemed
that way to her when he played with her like she was a small toy. I watched once
while he and his bodybuilder friend took turns with her. To me they were robots. But
to L, it was the ultimate act of submission. When he moved on, neither of us missed
him. But the images of him dwarfing her hungry, petite body are burned into my memory
for all time.

Maybe she's working tonight. Or maybe she's fucking. But I still can't stop thinking
of her on the end of some stranger's cock. Naked and squirming. Moaning and cumming.
Then telling me every wet, breathless detail when she comes home to me.

 

[don_jetman]

~*~

L and I finished the new Netflix series Sex/Life the other night. She's never been a
fan of multi-episode series (unless it was some historical recreation of a real
event). This one kept her attention throughout. But I didn't find it surprising that
she'd be taken in by a romance drama centered on a woman who becomes a hotwife, a
rather slutty one, in fact. A lot of screen time is spent depicting the wife's
fantasies about her ex-boyfriend, a big-cocked bad boy who fucks her like her husband
can't. Part of the wife yearns for those days when her bad boy made her life more
exciting, more daring by fucking her in public, and showing her off. Juggling desires
to revisit her erotic past with the safety of a beautiful home, two kids, and
successful, devoted husband was the arc of the series.

"So, do you feel like that sometimes? Like you miss one or two of your old college
boyfriends?" I asked when the last episode ended.

"Well, I didn't really have boyfriends in college - you were my boyfriend, remember?"

"Okay, then your fuck-buddies. The three or four guys who used to fuck you when I
wasn't around - remember?"

"Oh - those guys," she said, grinning. "They were pretty hot."

"As hot as her ex in the movie? I don't remember you telling me I didn't fuck you
like they did - like the wife in the movie told him."

"Well, you know about Nick. I thought you were over that. Or at least okay with the
past."

"I am. But I thought it might have made you think of him, and us. And maybe that you
still need a little of that excitement, especially after giving up other guys during
the pandemic. Don't you miss the fun? Being the 'bad girl' again?"

"Don - I'm pretty much past the bad girl thing. I know you like to think of me that
way sometimes, but I have no reservations or guilt about fucking other men anymore.
I like who I am. I love doing it. And if you really want to know, yes, I do miss it. I
miss fucking other men sometimes. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Yeah, I know that. I guess I just wanted to hear you tell me, out loud, in your own
words. It's been so long. I love it when you tell me things like that. But did you
see yourself in Billie, the wife? Did you think about being her when she couldn't
stay away from him and his cock? When they were fucking while her husband was home,
filled with angst? The look on her face when her ex made her cum?"

"I suppose I did now and then. He had a great body, and she claimed he fucked better
than her husband. I can see how that would be hard to resist. But she was so cruel to her
husband sometimes - disappearing without any notice when she and her husband had plans
together. She kept so many secrets from him. I couldn't see him as you. He never accepted
or liked her fucking him like you would have. It almost tore their marriage apart. How
could she be like that when she knew he was so conventional?"

"So, do you ever think about having an affair with one of your old boyfriends? Maybe
one who fucked you better than I do, like she claimed?"

"Don, there have been big cocks, and bad boys, and men who would have given anything
to steal me away from you, but I wouldn't say they fucked me better than you do.
Different, maybe. More dangerous, maybe. But not the kind of "better" that lasts."

"What about 'bigger'" I asked. "You know who I mean."

She unzipped me, fished my cock out, and ran her fingers slowly over the head. After
a few seconds, she looked at me with a furrowed brow, thinking, and then teasing.

"Okay - you're right. That was-really-good."

 

[ILoveSex]

You are both amazing guys! I cannot even dream of such a hot and perfect wife.

 

[don_jetman]

You are both amazing guys! I cannot even dream of such a hot and perfect wife.

Thanks - we've been doing this for fifteen years now, and we've had our share of good and bad times. It hasn't been perfect by far. I have to credit L with most of what we've been through. I've encouraged her, but she's taken the lead many times. Had we not met her first lover back then (still her Dom), I may not have anything to write about to this day. We've also been misunderstood on some sites - we straddle the distinction between hotwifing and cuckolding, having started with hotwifing but finding cuckolding an exciting way to role play. Trying to explain it can be complicated, but we are what we are.

 

[don_jetman]

We talked to L's Dom last night. It seems like forever since we've seen him, or even
heard from him. Even just talking to him on the phone, I see her face become that of
another woman. It's hard to describe though. She's softer, more relaxed. And her
mouth turns up at the corners, constantly, like she's imagining the foreplay between
them and he's already preparing her. It excites me in an angsty way - that he so
easily has my wife in his hands with words alone.

I undress her as they talk, slowly, as L stands, changes position, letting me do it.
L tells him, and he praises me, but warns me not to touch her. It's this game of his.
Making L his own. She doesn't shave at home like she does for him, so I can't make
out how wet she is, but her nipples are hard, with little goosebumps over her
breasts. What started as a three-way conversation becomes talk between two lovers.
What he wants to do to her. How much she wants his cock. I'm right there with her,
but she still says it. Right in front of her husband. "I really miss your cock." Her
words make me flinch and hard at the same time. It's hard to explain.

"He wants you to watch me..." she says, "...while he fucks me with his words." So I
watch him fuck her long distance. She lies on the bed with her fingers in her pussy
and cums for him in just a few minutes. It's delicious. Her cum face is angelic. And
desperate. The sounds she makes obscene. Cheating on her husband with a voice
on the phone. And I'm hard.

It's a short session, but enough for her. He wants us to visit again, and we promise
we will, soon. And that has me thinking about our past there, watching him own every
inch of her, days or sometimes a week of wanting her but knowing she's only his
there. How they play together like a couple, showing off in front of me. L in
character as she flaunts her desire for him, yet takes time to assure me it's just a
game. Kind of. I know she really likes him, maybe even loves him in a way. I know she
loves his cock. And how he uses her.

It's been so long that I struggle to remember that things in our past with him were
real. Things L would never do. Except for him. Fucking a stranger in a pool of light
as others watched. The very young stranger taking L on the floor, pinning her under
him as she circled his waist with her thighs and pulled him closer. They tore at each
other, kissing, licking, sucking, so violently that I couldn't tell when he entered her.
He took her like a machine, his cock so hard it threatened to burst - pumping, thrusting,
battering her while his own groans joined L's. She went wild, thrashing on the floor
under him as she made obscene animal sounds I had never heard from her before. I
won't lie. I envied him. I wanted to be him. I wanted her to make those sounds for
me, to lose control with me like she did for him. I wanted his hard cock that
never seemed to tire, to stretch her with it relentlessly, driving her to levels of
abandoned lust I doubted she had ever experienced.

But it wouldn't be the last time. He had other men take her, sometimes a young
twenty-something on his couch in the middle of the day so I could watch. So I could
see how she loved his young, relentless erection fill her, sometimes until she came
twice under him. No one had to rub it in then. I could see her try to recover,
breathlessly, helplessly used, her satisfied smile a clear sign that this was
different, far more so than anything I could give her. A bit of envy went along with
the pride I felt for her then. But had she done it for me, or in spite of me there
watching? L could enjoy the power exchange, and delivering a sting of the knife now
and then. But just the tip. Not at all like the length of solid cock she took from
him.

Then later, the night of the Demon. Her Dom's most intricate role play yet. He chose
a huge man to play the part, so much so his presence as a supernatural being
suspended disbelief. I "gave" her to him that night, for as long as he wanted her. He
told me she would be his woman after he fucked her. Because once his seed was inside
her nothing could prevent it. That I had no choice but to agree to surrender her, and
that she'd be willing whenever he returned to fuck her.

She spread her legs for him and he mounted her, slowly inching his cock inside. She
took all of him easily, almost shockingly so. I had only imagined how something so
thick and long might fill her. L had always seemed tight as a fist to my average
dick, so watching how easily she took one so immense, as improbable as it was to me,
filled me with disbelief and awe. I imagined her wincing and gasping as such a
monstrous thing impaled her, but it slid into her as though she welcomed every inch.
The Demon never slowed, never stopped, and never reacted to her moans and pleadings
for him to continue. He moved in and out of L like a black, shining piston as she
explored thick plates and ropes of muscle over his chest and arms. Eventually she
tired and went limp under him, but still gazed steadily into his eyes. Now and then
tiny spasms shook her for a few seconds after she begged him to fuck her harder. She
raised her hips when he partially withdrew, hoping for even more of his cock when he
entered her again. But he never relented, always filling her with his thick meat at
the same speed and rhythm. He left her panting and weak, arms finally limp at her
sides, her eyes flickering, begging for her orgasm. And even then he wouldn't stop or
give her what she wanted - those faster, deeper strokes that would make her come.
It seemed to be a final act of desperation that made her turn her head to the side
and look over at me. I hoped for that hint of sympathy she often gave me, a weak
smile at the corners of her mouth, anything that might show concern for me, or where
the play was headed. Instead, she begged me.

"Please - please give me to him. Just give me to him. I want this. I need this.
Please."

That night was her Dom's crowning achievement, nearly every second seared into my
memory, even from so long ago. After he took her, the giant untied me and I signed
his document that outlined the rules. Each item described how she would continue to
be my wife, except for her body. That every inch of her flesh belonged to him. Then
he disappeared, never to be seen again. Not that L didn't ask. I knew what a man that
immense did to her. It pushed her fantasy to a new level - an all-powerful Demon that
possessed ultimate control, over her and me. It kept her wanting - him, the way he
"handled" her so easily, and his thick cock. I've asked her if she still pines for
him, her towering, hung Demon. She usually just smiles and nods. "If you only knew
how much..."

 

[don_jetman]

Reviewing "Independence Day" when I posted it today roused so many memories and
feeling of what is was like to be a new hotwife couple. It's interesting to look back
to where certain of our present day kinks were born. The time between then and now
disconnected the beginnings of the trail that led us where we are today, almost like
those times happened to another couple. Then again, I still get hard reading about
it, how L was so immediately taken with him when we first met, and how easily he made
her his when all of us were together.

That L began dressing for him made me uncomfortable at first. It began on those
special occasions when he'd play with her in our home on those initial visits. She
had never stripped for a man before like that, obeying his orders like she was some
kind of slave. That she would do it in front of me was a mix of excitement and
worry. How could he so easily have had her do that? I could see she enjoyed it, even
the very first time. Of course, at the time I wasn't aware of L's submissive
fantasies. He recognized them and drew them out of her for everyone to see. Not long
after came the weekend shopping excursions. The three of us scoured malls and small
boutiques for clothes for L, with Dave choosing her outfits and me paying for them.
It was embarrassing at times - I knew the sales people were confused. L would call me
"honey" and "sweetheart" at the register as I handed over my credit card, and yet
Dave had guided her choices and pawed her lightly the entire time we shopped. Not
that there wasn't a bit of a thrill being her beta to his Alpha. I could tell she got
a kick out of it now and then. She always loved teasing me, and watching me squirm a
little became one of her favorite things.

Summer was the best and worst of it. The clothes he'd picked for her were like
nothing she had ever worn. I'd love watching her squeeze into the tiny shorts, then
agonized over how she could possibly show that much skin in public. Men would stare
at her on weekends wherever we went, seeming not to care at all that I was there with
her. Dave's choices were crop tops and tube tops in the summer. I never got used to
seeing her like that in public, her breasts and nipples outlined in the flimsiest of
materials. After a rain shower, or even the light sheen of sweat that appeared in the
heat of summer, her tops clung to her like damp tissue. Dave loved it when we all
went out together - how our waiter would ogle her tits, and I'd look on pale-faced,
astonished at how he had changed her.

He chose her work clothes as well. There were so many form-fitting blouses and
business jackets that barely fastened at the front with one or two buttons.
Eventually he made her go braless, and even panty-less sometimes at work under her
skirts. It was just enough to give the men she worked with a good look if she wasn't
careful how she sat or leaned over the conference table during meetings. She would
complain to me in the mornings when she tried to decide what to wear to work that day
that none of her clothes were comfortable, and that the men had begun to stare and
flirt. Dave hadn't made her dress like a hooker, but the change was noticed by
everyone, a change that just barely hinted that she might be looking for a cock other
than her husband's. It made me both nervous and hot - but I often couldn't decide
which feeling was stronger. I thought constantly about her fucking one of the guys
she worked with, something she swore she'd never do. That didn't make me obsess about
it any less. I still wonder if her promotion then was at least influenced by her new
appearance. If it was, at least her boss never hit on her.

But for me, Dave's parties were the most daring. He was outing us, little-by-little
at the time, as a hotwife couple. It wasn't until later that we discovered that many
of his "guests" were swingers that hung out with him in a sort of private club there.
I very much remember how my gut churned the first time he guided L around the room
with his arm around her, introducing her to his guests as I watched at a distance. I
saw her smile and laugh, touching his arm now and then, and even resting her head
briefly on his shoulder as she cuddled next to him. It was deeply humiliating - they
all knew she was my wife. But there was also an ember of excitement building in me as
I watched. It was just as Dave had planned it.

It's what Dave did, and still does. He observes some small detail and uses it to
amplify what L and I haven't yet dared to admit, even to ourselves. Those things stay
in our heads, obsessive ambivalences that swirl and evolve to something more. In her
new clothes, he knew L would be fixated on trying to hide her body from coworkers all
day long, every day. She'd still be worried about it when she came home at night, how
the people she worked with might misunderstand, how they might consider it
"unprofessional". It forced her to think about men wanting her, even if at first it
was how to prevent it. She confessed much later that she began to fantasize about
what they might see down her blouse or up her skirt. She began to wonder what they
were thinking when she caught them looking, fantasizing about a few of them and what
they might be like in bed. It took a long time, but she finally confessed to me that
she felt sexier at work, and that she actually liked flashing a little leg or
cleavage to a few of them now and then. That wasn't the girl I married.

For my part, he had to have known that the discomfort I felt when he "owned" her,
first at his parties, and then in public, would be so unnerving that I'd compensate
(or maybe run from my discomfort) by finding at least some part of it erotic. After
all, we were the ones who approached him to fuck L. I was onboard one hundred percent
after my long-hidden hotwife fantasies. But there was always a part of me that was
deeply humiliated when I was forced to stand by in public while he owned her, knowing
she wanted every bit of the attention and affection he showered her with. He planted
the seed that grew into my kink of having her owned as others watched, seeing it,
feeling it, letting it slither and weave its way into my guts, and my dick.

These days, it's a lot more about giving L what she wants and needs, and a lot less
about my angst. But as I read through my old post, I could imagine all of it again -
the excitement, surprises, and yes, the worrying angst from back then, and how all
that's become something L and I have digested and now long for. It's what Dave did.
It's what he always does.

 

[Nobody]

~*~

The shit that goes through my head lately. L's working late on a new project. We fuck
all the time, but I can't stop thinking of her on the end of some stranger's big
cock. Naked. Blowing him, Fucking him. Not planned. Just a guy she happens to meet
and has to have. And without a second's hesitation, she lets him have her. But I
imagine a lot of things lately. It's just been so damn long since we've lived out our
fantasies. She probably hard at work in her lonely office.

But there's so much history - so much sometimes I can barely believe it was us, that
it was real. Not that we've forgotten. L uses all of it, almost every time we make
love, or fuck, which ever memory fits. She can retrieve picture perfect moments with
just a few of the right words. As she rides me. As she fucks me under me. The thing
is, sometimes they aren't memories at all. At least not my memories. Sometimes
they're little slips, bits she's censored, pieces of her she never trusted me to see
or know. But I doubt they're slips. She can put a finger on any one of them and flick
it at me like it's horny pixie dust. It lands on me, and I cum.

But I need those times. We need those times. The night we met her Dom, and I knew he
wanted her. It was how he seemed to own her in those first few seconds, and how she
couldn't take her eyes off his. Her Svengali. And her not even a hotwife yet,
although we had toyed with the fantasy, never expecting it to be more. I'll never
forget the gut-twisting effect it had on me. Taking a step back, watching them, never
assuming it would ever be more than a chance flirtation. But the tiny spark was
there, hope that maybe, just maybe, someday L would submit to temptation and fuck a
guy like him. Little did I know that she'd ask me weeks later, if maybe he could be
"the one". It was beyond my wildest dreams that eventually L would submit to every
decadent act he invented. And that we'd both become addicted to it.

Our travel to see him, a thousand miles after we relocated. His infamous parties
attended by swingers, cuckolds, cuckoldresses, and male friends thirsty for a chance
to fuck an innocent wife. We were newbies then, so clueless. But still, we knew why
we were there, why we were invited. Fresh meat. I lost count of how many times L was
seduced there, or how often she seduced her pick of the evening, all with her Dom's
encouragement. I'd watch her flirt with him, then climb the stairs to the bedroom
where everyone knew he'd fuck my wife. It wasn't as though I didn't expect it - and
it got easier as the parties became more frequent. But the first time, well, it was
like walking a tightrope across an active volcano.

It was a Halloween party. He always dressed her there, and Halloween was no
exception. It stretches the credibility of my memory that she'd wear it. He paraded
her down the stairs in front of everyone like a prize creation. Her hair was tied
back in a short ponytail with a pink ribbon. The tight, pink and white halter was
partially unbuttoned, pushing her breasts up and outward showing a hint of her
nipples at the center. The white skirt was almost a belt - too short to hide her
pussy from anyone looking up at her. And everyone looked up as they descended the
stairs from his bedroom. Her face was made up like a plastic anime doll - heavy
makeup with too much eyeliner and lipstick. Big eyes. Pouty lips. Heels so high they
made her prance carefully - not stroll sensuously as I expected.

It wasn't exactly scandalous - I mean, everyone there was in a costume made to show
as much skin as possible. They'd be naked in a pile by the end of the night. All his
parties were orgies, eventually. But he was advertising L as a sex doll to any man who
wanted her. He had made her a thing, an erotic animation brought to life. I would have
been more comfortable if L had been naked. She confessed later that it was the most
exciting thing she had ever done. But it wasn't the first time she's astonished me.

The gym. And her bodybuilder phase. The guy she described as a machine when he fucked
her. No strings. Not much chemistry. It was the way he "handled" her when they
fucked. His power and strength. It was so easy to submit to him, at least it seemed
that way to her when he played with her like she was a small toy. I watched once
while he and his bodybuilder friend took turns with her. To me they were robots. But
to L, it was the ultimate act of submission. When he moved on, neither of us missed
him. But the images of him dwarfing her hungry, petite body are burned into my memory
for all time.

Maybe she's working tonight. Or maybe she's fucking. But I still can't stop thinking
of her on the end of some stranger's cock. Naked and squirming. Moaning and cumming.
Then telling me every wet, breathless detail when she comes home to me.

I remember you describing the Halloween party elsewhere & one part of that really sticks in my mind. L found you & led you into a bathroom & locked the door telling you that Dave wanted you to remove her knickers for him - as a sort of symbolic act. In silence you knelt before her & slowly removed them, L carefully stepping out of them & then holding your eye as she asked in a serious voice “do you always do everything my boyfriend asks”. Incredible stuff

 

[don_jetman]

I think it was the first time Dave made me do something submissive in public, or at least semi-public. I do remember my hands trembling as I took her panties off there in that tiny bathroom. I could hear all the party noise just on the other side of the door, and although it was exciting, I was deathly afraid someone might open the door and see me there on my knees holding L's panties. It was also one of the first times she seemed to enjoy cucking me in public. The entire thing was so simple, but for us it was scorching hot. It was/is one of Dave's real talents - turning everyday events into memorable sex scenes.

 

[Nobody]

I found the story on here. Absolutely incredible stuff.