Wonderful Life With My Gorgeous Hotwife (revisited)

[john jasson]

I wish we heard more about the dark times from everyone. We only hear the good news but we learn so much more from the bad.

Hi afagehi7. I have often thought the same. It’s a profound drop off the edge of this crazy precipice, and often posters will just vanish when things go wrong. It’s an understandable human reaction to hide away and lick your wounds when you are injured, so we can’t afford to be too judgmental.

That this can cause serious injury to relationships is beyond doubt. I suspect it's part of the thrill, even if subliminally. Like the deadly 200mph race or the mountain climb that's claimed thousands of lives. It's a rush because you think you are smart enough to beat the risk. If there wasn't the frisson of the risk it wouldn't be half as exciting to participate.

If you’ve read this thread you will be in no doubt how much I worship and adore her. The mere separation from her and the contemplation of losing her was like impending death to me. I saw no reason to go on if I couldn’t turn it around. Had we not got through it, then I don’t mind admitting that I too would be one of the disappeared, and maybe not just from here.

At the same time, we must acknowledge that plenty of folks play for years and never have problems. I also think it can enhance relationships. Overall, I have no doubt that it has supercharged ours. Yes, we had dark times, but I sure as hell wouldn't want to go back and redo it all in vanilla.

ETA: To avoid any confusion as far as this thread is concerned, I have not yet reached the darker side of our story. It will come later on when we are in our 30s.

[john jasson]

It can be tough finding the time to spend on this, but a few intervals this afternoon allow a little more progress.
---------------------------------------------------------

Since her regular Saturday bathing ritual after lunch, Sherrie had been busy sorting out stuff in the bedroom, so I kept my head down doing my own thing out in the garden the whole afternoon.

Sticking with my new resolve of stoicism in the face of the red hot erotic undercurrent in the house, I avoid the subject of Paul all through our chatter over our evening meal thinking she’ll tell me when she’s ready if there’s anything to tell. The shadows are lengthening now, and the lower sun is casting a warm glow over us at the dining table. It’s generally a time we like to relax and take things easy. All is calm, but there is still that unspoken, indescribable, frisson hanging in the air.

After the light ham salad - ideal food for the summer heatwave - she brings out a large wedge of one of the home made apple pies she baked during the week and places it before me. Her baking, learned from her mum, is always to die for. She’s written ‘Love us forever’ in fresh cream on top of the pastry, and drawn a heart shape of the cream around the periphery of the portion on my plate. I wonder if she’s softening me up for impending news about her desires for another man, but I could be overthinking it. It’s just one of those over the top romantic gestures that would probably make the average person puke, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary for us. It’s what we do for each other all the time.

So far, so good, and I’m feeling quite pleased with my restraint around her, to be honest. It’s been a nice easy vibe between us. Pretty normal really, so I’m thinking that maybe I can control my obsessing over her wayward sex life successfully after all. No matter that it’s a façade for her benefit, and deep down my mind is working overtime. My average pulse is probably up 10 percent, 24/7!

A little later, I’m drinking a beer and watching my team in an evening football match on tv. It’s well past sunset by now. Night is falling outside, and I have the curtains drawn together in the lounge with just the subdued glow of the tv screen in the room.

Just before half time in the match – we’re winning 1 nil - she appears framed in the doorway, and I look up at her. I dwell on her flawless figure presenting in silhouette as she is backlit from the hall beyond. She sees there’s football on the menu and decides she’s not staying, but before heading off to the kitchen, and without saying a word, she throws her phone across the room at me.

Her aim isn’t great and she puts her hand to her mouth in horror at where it might end up, but I make a heroic one handed catch at full stretch in the dim light, which she watches in astonishment, and then bursts out in spontaneous applause.

J (highly pleased with myself): Howzat?!! I should definitely be in the England cricket team!

I do ‘pleased with myself’ very readily, I must confess. I was once hauled out of class at school and straight into trouble, aged 6, for being ‘smug’, according to the teacher. Sherrie likes that story, and reckons I haven’t changed so much.

S (loftily): Well, I would expect nothing less than sheer brilliance from you, of course.

She’s obviously skitting, as my old Northern mum would say.

J (indignantly): Are you taking the piss?

S (imperiously): Would I dare? You always were on good terms with yourself.

On good terms with myself? It’s a typical Sherrieism. One of those acerbic put downs she comes out with now and then, the literal meaning of which is abstract enough to make it inscrutable but, nevertheless, I know she’s gently mocking my faux conceit. She keeps me grounded with these sassy little interventions, and I admit it’s one more valuable service she’s rendered to me throughout our lives together. I look at her shaking her head and we both laugh at our silly exchange, but it doesn’t detain her. Seconds later she’s gone, as is the levity, and I’m alone once more. I'm holding her personal phone and my hand is trembling, for I know immediately exactly what I’m about to see.

I look down to find it already open at their text exchange. My patience at last has its reward:

(Most of this chronicle is from the way it was seared into my memory for all time and now recalled, but this particular text exchange is verbatim as it actually happened because I saved it for posterity, much to Sherrie’s disbelieving merriment.)

S: Hi. I’m testing the contact.
P (within a minute): Hi. Looks like it’s working. Wot u up 2?
S: Guess.
P: No idea. I shouldn’t be doing this.
S: I’ll give u a clue. I’m as naked as I was with u on Tues night.
P: Wow. Still have no idea. Wot u doing naked in the afternoon?
S: I’m thinking of u.
P: What u thinking?
S: What do U think?
P: Wow again. I really shouldn’t be doing this.
S: I loved your finger almost getting inside me last night.
P: I wish I could have got properly inside u n looked at u naked again, but not in the surgery.
P: Fuck. Do u know I really am going straight 2 hell for this.
S: No ur going to heaven. I have a finger inside me now. I wish it was ur cock deep inside my cock heaven.

Jesus Christ. Her cock heaven? Where does she get this stuff from? All thought of the football evaporates. If I had any doubts at all that she was serious about fucking another man before this, I certainly haven’t now.

P: Fuck. I just wish I was there.
S: So do I! I want ur cock in my cock heaven.
S: Soon!
P: Where’s ur husband?
S: Oh him. Downstairs. I’m upstairs.
S: I want you to fuck me Dr Trevelyan until I come n come n come.
P: What if he comes up?
S: I’m locked in the bathroom soaking in the tub. He’s oblivious.
P: Aren’t u worried though?
S: Why shud I be? Don’t worry about him. I’m not.
P: Doing this and him in the house. We are BOTH going 2 HELL I tell u!!
S: Forget him. It’s what I want that matters to me and that’s nothing to do with him. I do what I feel and this feels wonderful. So wud u. Inside me now.

Oh him???! Nothing to do with him???! Forget him???!! This is just about the most exciting thing I ever read, but it pains me too to see it typed on her phone by my loving Sherrie with her own little hand; the same hand that writes loving endearments on my apple pie. I would never question her love for me, but does she genuinely think this way when she’s excited for him? Kind of chimes with what she said today in the park about her mood with him last night, and way back on the infamous Damien evening when she knew she was out of control but couldn’t help herself. Is this the same sort of thing by text?

P: Fuck. Oh shit, this is 2 hot! Why me? Why do you have 2 be my patient!!
S: I’m holding the bath brush now. It has a lovely cock shaped handle with notches along it to grip.
P: Ok.
S: Long and nice and thick, like urs when I felt it last night. It’s going into me now. It’s stretching my pussy out wide like u will.
P: Fuck!
S: I think I’m going to call this brush Paul from now on. I have Paul in my pussy up to the 4th notch.
P: U r so hot, Sherrie. I shouldn’t but every time we meet I think of u a lot after. Then I hate myself and pray.
S: Paul is moving in and out of me now. It’s hard to text. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.
P: It’s hard 2 fucking breathe here!

After a short time gap.

S: Hmmm thank u for making me come, Paul. That was lovely. My insides are still throbbing down there.
P: I think I came in my pants! U r something fucking else!
S: Maybe see u Friday for some more fun?
P: Maybe won’t sleep till then!
S: I’ll make u feel so good.
S: I want u so bad.
S: Kiss.
P: Fuck! I can’t resist this. I’m 2 weak.

I look at it, attention rapt. Grab the control and switch off the tv, plunging myself into darkness other than the tiny light from her phone that’s dripping this written steroid into my brain……….

[Chrislydi]

Perfection John,

Those texts!... and to think they were sent by such an innocent flame haired enchantress too. My average pulse is probably up 50 percent in the last five minutes

Chris

[nekkedoutdoors]

Please move these to The Library John! Do not risk losing them to whims of this board. These are a study in absolute perfection. Fuck! So, Good!

[afagehi7]

I'm a native English speaker and I had to use the dictionary at least 4-5 times... Excellent vocabulary, you were paying attention in class.

[john jasson]

Perfection John,

Those texts!... and to think they were sent by such an innocent flame haired enchantress too. My average pulse is probably up 50 percent in the last five minutes

Chris

Thank you Chris, as ever. She's always had the power to send me into the sexual stratosphere just by something she says or something she messages. In the early days I used to try to cook up erotic scenarios that she might want to play out. In the end I gave it up because she always contrived situations far hotter than I could ever suggest quite naturally, and without even trying.

[john jasson]

Please move these to The Library John! Do not risk losing them to whims of this board. These are a study in absolute perfection. Fuck! So, Good!

Don't tell me it's a risk, nekked! You know that we chaps have an inbuilt compulsion to ride any hotwifing risk to the very edge of our sanity, and I won't be able to resist taking the chance!

Seriously, though, thank you for your constant encouraging appreciation. Straying generously into hyperbole, I feel sure, but none the less welcome for that. I'll crack on further when I can find the time.

[john jasson]

I'm a native English speaker and I had to use the dictionary at least 4-5 times... Excellent vocabulary, you were paying attention in class.

Thanks afagehi7. This made me chuckle.

Hope those interruptions to your reading flow didn't hamper your enjoyment of it too much

[john jasson]

Sherrie has been out on a half marathon trail run event this afternoon with a group of guys from her fell running club. Yes, all guys on this run apart from her. Ever the tomboy. She won't win for sure, but she certainly won't come in last either. I used the time to get a little bit further on our story.
=================================================

S: Maybe see u Friday for some more fun?
P: Maybe won’t sleep till then!
S: I’ll make u feel so good.
S: I want u so bad.
S: Kiss.
P: Fuck! I can’t resist this. I’m 2 weak.

I look at it, attention rapt. Grab the control and switch off the tv, plunging myself into darkness other than the tiny light from her phone that’s dripping this written steroid into my brain.

I read it again. Fuck, then yet again. Sherrie must have heard the silence and sashays back into the room, switching on the standing lamp as she approaches me wearing her brief yellow jumpsuit, much like this but a brighter new born chick shade of yellow:

https://www.google.co.uk/imgres?imgurl= ... gNegQIARBb


S (airily): Why are you sitting in the dark? Football finished?

J: No, but I nearly did. He’s not the only one cumming in his pants. This is so fucking hot. Christ, Sherrie, you are absolutely fucking filthy! Where does that stuff come from?

S: Don’t know. I just let my mind run riot and typed what I wished I was doing.

Her facial expression is dynamite. It’s fiercely unapologetic, sexy, in control, almost arrogant, I’d say. I can’t take my eyes away from hers as they seem to pierce my soul for the first time in a new and assertive, rather than purely affectionate and caring, way. I’m hooked; falling in love all over again with this irresistible phenomenon that’s been set free.

There’s certainly no shame face or self-doubt from her this time. No asking me if I’m angry with her or if we’re alright. Presumably intent on forestalling any drama from me, she walks right up to me with that challenging look in place, gets on her knees in front of me, unzips me and takes out my cock. Needless to say, it’s at full mast. I don’t put up much of a struggle. She goes down on me first and then sets to work with her hands on the head too.

I’ll digress briefly to try to offer a small glimpse of what this means:

Over all the years we’ve spent together, we know each other’s bodies so well that we can hold the other right at the edge of orgasm indefinitely. Sherrie in particular has this awesome technique where she will see I’m getting close and move to stimulate a different part of my cock head with her hand or her tongue which pushes back the orgasm and stimulates the bladder. Eventually, I don’t know if I need to come or pee, and right from our earliest days together, back in our teens, I will beg her to keep me there in limbo just for the way it makes me feel. I guess it’s an extreme form of edging but without the need to pause for the mounting climax to subside. She can force it to retreat immediately by subtly changing the focus of her touch and position on me. The sensations were and are extreme, existing somewhere between joy and agony.

She’s quite used to my writhing around in a frenzy when subjected to her ministrations, and takes it all in her stride. I might be rolling from side to side, or jerking my knees up to my chest without warning, and a few seconds later kicking my legs out straight, just striving to keep control of my body in the midst of her exquisite torture. She never loses command of me, concentrating single-mindedly on my cock. It means her deftly having to change hands to move her arms out of the way, but maintain contact with the job in hand, as my flailing limbs fly past her. To keep up with my violent movements, she might be working my cock positioned a fraction away from my stomach one moment as my legs lie straight out on the bed, and in the next moment she will need to bend it downward through a wide arc towards my anal cleft, squashing my balls, as I return frantically to a knee chest posture. None of it fazes her. She always persists doggedly until she decides it’s done. Deep in the zone, I never want it to end. She affects an intense countenance over me, her big eyes and slightly parted lips telling me that I asked for it to go on and on and that, just maybe, it will. Perhaps it may never end, and there will be no climax and no escape. We’d never even heard the term edging when we started, of course. We were simply playing together on our wondrous voyage of discovery, and having fun giving each other the most acute intimate rapture that our young bodies had ever enjoyed or endured.


By the time of Paul she’s a virtuosa. For years we would fantasize over how we were going to hire her out to perform this elegant abuse on wealthy men for thousands of pounds an hour. There would have been much repeat business, for sure. She never tires of seeing the crazy effect it has on me. She likes to see how long she can string it out for. When she does so, it always feels like my entire being is contained in my penis and she is holding my existence by a thread, at her whim, between her delicate little fingers. She revels in her ability to reduce her strong, six feet tall man to a quivering, moaning, servile wreck. The power exchange and feeling of helplessness is dynamite and profoundly ethereal; it absolutely transcends physical stimulation.

Over subsequent years I’ve encouraged her to subject her lovers to this treatment just to blow their minds and make them realise that she’s the hottest thing on two legs. She says no other man can stand up to her treatment for near as long as me. I’m sure she’s not just being kind to me about that, because there are periods to come in the future where she will be icily brutal to me with her truth, and if some guy had better endurance than me, she’d have told me without doubt.

Anyway, she’s doing this stuff to me in the wake of revealing her red hot messaging with Trevelyan, which means she has to go super carefully with edging me. I’m on a hair trigger, and my balls are so tender, they feel as though they’ll burst. She sees right away the swollen state they’re in, and she makes me wince by taking each of them in turn into her hand and deliberately applying a squeezing pressure that inflames the nagging soreness still more. It’s a bit like she’s testing plums for firmness. Every time she looks at me, instead of the usual look of devotion at pleasing me, there is still this devilish look, and a flash of fire in her eyes. I worry about that missing look of devotion, but I am even more captivated by this new self-confident sexual energy within her. I’m totally ensnared by it.

In the end, she stops her magic, stands up to her full height and takes off her jumpsuit leaving her naked, then she squats over my lap on the sofa. I’m still fully clothed other than my cock poking out through my flies, and slowly she lowers herself onto me, sensuously inserting me with her hand. I’m normally a decent laster, but not this time. No way. No sooner am I in her wet pussy or her ‘cock heaven’ as she would have it, obviously so wet courtesy of her exchange with Trevelyan, with my hands on her lithe body, than my suffering balls admit defeat. I come and add my own contribution to hers. The circumstances are so wild though, that I keep it up anyway, and go straight for round two, eventually coming in her again after another ten minutes or so. She climbs off me and stands there, a picture of female physical perfection; the perfection that has been exclusively mine for seven years, but that now craves surrender to Trevelyan. She’s looking down at me and at our joint mess all over my trousers.

S: Messy things, dicks. You’d better clean your mess up, and don’t get it on the sofa!

J: It’s our mess! I’ll see what I can do.

S: It’s been a hot, eventful day. I think I’ll just get in bed and relax. You go back to the football and enjoy, babe. (it’s only about 9.30pm even now)

J: Back to the football? After all this? You are fucking joking! Get your ass in that bed now and I’ll be with you in ten minutes after I’ve checked around the house.

There’s an audible dirty giggle as she leaves the room that I can still hear in my head now, all of these years later. It certainly has been a hot day. I know she was referring to the weather, but hot comes in many guises.

Within ten minutes, we’re naked together in bed having the early night to end all early nights. I come in her twice more for starters, without even stopping or going soft in between. That’s four orgasms for me in less than an hour. A record that still stands today, I reckon. Meanwhile, she’s climbing the walls and moaning loudly and incoherently, lost to all reason in one long continuous orgasmic fever.

As we come down from the stars, I hold her warm, soft body close to me in the bed. Is this really the same girl I know so well?

J: I love you. You are just wonderful. My wonderful naughty, dirty girl with a mind like a demon – and a sewer!

S (finally a little humility returns): Was it ok? What I did with him? I didn’t go too far?

J: Did you enjoy doing it?
S: I think you know the answer to that, but I feel so bad; guilty. And I worry.
J: What about?
S: As ever, about us, about you, obviously. We are more precious than I can tell you.
J: Ditto. We are more precious than I can tell you, but you know what else we are?
S: What?
J: We are strong. We are steel. We are unbreakable. My faith in you is total.
S: And mine in you. But we’ve been just us for so long. You know? And I love us so much.

We prolong our full frontal hug and move in for a tender kiss.

S: This is a change from anything we’ve ever known. I’m not really this wild person, not at all. You know I’m not. I’m just little me.

J: Well, that’s what makes it hot, isn’t it?
S: It’s crazy. Sometimes I want to forget it. Often I do. Slam on the brakes. Go back to where we were.

J: Me too. But it’s so exciting. How could we just stop this now? It would keep gnawing away at us for ever.

S: Yeah. I feel it’s so wrong, but when I’m in that mood I want to go further. I don’t want to damage us, but I find myself tempted to push it. There really is a devil inside making me, fighting me. It’s so bad sometimes I don’t like to tell you.

J: It’s called temptation. And it’s your temptation that excites me more than I can say.

S: I did notice! I am so grateful too, you know. Most men would kick my cheating ass and throw me out. That’s what I really deserve, and I worry that one day you’ll wake up and do it.

J: Never gonna happen. You know what I particularly liked about the texting?
S: What?

J: The parts where you said ‘Oh him’, and ‘it’s what I want that matters’, and ‘it’s nothing to do with him’, and that sort of stuff. Jesus, the idea of you thinking that way just sends me to a different place. I can’t even tell you what it does to me or why.

Her expression turns earnest; questioning. Like the one she wears when she’s doing research in the lab.

S: But did you notice I deliberately used some of your own words there? You told me that it’s what I want that’s hot and that I need to be controlling it. I was aiming that bit at you more than at him really. I know you’ve been worked up by it all, and I wanted to see if you still felt excited when I’m saying it to him, and it’s actually happening for real. When I’m just following my instinct with another man, and doing what comes naturally. That’s gonna be tough on you if you can’t calm down and go with the flow if it really gets interesting. I know it is because I can feel the energy between me and him already. I try to fight it, but it’s real and it’s very powerful, and I can see myself at least part of the time having thoughts that don’t support our instinctive understanding of “us”. Do you see what I’m getting at? It’s a different energy in me. Breaking it right down I suppose it’s the energy that comes from me being involved with another man, and that’s so very wrong. I know it is. There will be a connection between me and him and it’s additional to us. It stands to reason, but it changes things. It’s bound to, isn’t it?

J: I do still feel the same, and it’s exactly what I want. I know what you mean about me being worked up. I can’t deny it, like in the park earlier. And I sense you already have that energy inside you for him. It’s in your eyes. It’s obvious. But I’ve decided that if we are going to experience this, I have to approach it the same way you do and not let it take over every waking minute of our lives. It’s so fucking hot to me that you can be so outwardly cool, and I need to learn to do that too.

S: Let’s face it right now. If I have sex with someone, we can’t take it back. It’s done forever. I’ve committed adultery. However it works out, good or bad, I won’t be happy if I do it and you hold it against me afterwards. I’ll feel betrayed forever, John. I don’t even know if that’s fair of me because I’ll feel so guilty too, but I know for sure I will feel so betrayed. If you have the slightest doubt now is the time to say. I’ve given you so many last chances to swerve this. Say stop, and it stops here and now.

J: My sweetheart. I will never ever hold this against you. We did it together. You have my solemn promise. On your life, and you know there is nothing more precious to me. We will be good. Always.

S (wearing very wicked grin now): Well, I want him. You asked for it. I guess watch this space then. (the grin fades into self-doubt again) God, I’m so bad. (shaking her head) I’m wicked.

I say nothing more. I’m pleased to have got across to her that I don’t want to be the one driving it. It has to be her. It has to come from her own desires. Her doing it for her; taking on all of her strongest inhibitions and her nice girl hesitation and overcoming them. That’s what makes it hot. Nothing would be more of a turn off than her feeling coerced into doing this for me. Of course it doesn’t feel like that right now. It feels more like she’s in the fast lane and way ahead of me, with her tongue hanging out for Trevelyan. I turn her over, enter her from behind and spoon her until we fall asleep as one. It’s our favourite way to fall asleep.

I have to look up the football result the following day over breakfast. We’d been ahead at half time but, shock, horror, we lost, so I think I took the best option by spending the second half being sexed to delirium and back by Sherrie. I always remember Kevin Keegan once saying that sex is overrated, and he much preferred to watch a good game of football. Freakin’ eejit. I can only conclude there was something very amiss with the way he was doing sex.

[Chrislydi]

https://
m.youtube.com/
watch?v=mk87a7r0V60

Poor old Kevin Keegan's infamous rant comes up mind for me ..... "I will love it" ( X 10 )

"I would love it" for just ten minutes of such delicious torture and to think she wears the mask of her normality so well

What a woman

[nekkedoutdoors]

"Freakin’ eejit. I can only conclude there was something very amiss with the way he was doing sex." Definitely on the first, one can only assume you are correct on the second as the first is already a proven.

Another absolutely beautiful and erotic sharing of ones life. I can't speak for others reader, but this one is falling for your Sherrie.

[john jasson]

https://
m.youtube.com/
watch?v=mk87a7r0V60

Poor old Kevin Keegan's infamous rant comes up mind for me ..... "I will love it" ( X 10 )

"I would love it" for just ten minutes of such delicious torture and to think she wears the mask of her normality so well

What a woman

Thanks, as ever, Chris. Scary to think that's cracking on for 30 years ago!

[john jasson]

"Freakin’ eejit. I can only conclude there was something very amiss with the way he was doing sex." Definitely on the first, one can only assume you are correct on the second as the first is already a proven.

Another absolutely beautiful and erotic sharing of ones life. I can't speak for others reader, but this one is falling for your Sherrie.

Well thank you, kind sir. As for "others", it seems to have a healthy number of viewings so I do hope that some are enjoying the rollercoaster with me. As I've said before, I've read so much on other threads and frequently not left a comment, so I don't get too hung up about it here.

It's always very nice, and much appreciated when readers do leave their thoughts of course.

[nnjcpl2002]

A wonderful telling, John. Your juxtaposition of dialogue with your description of your thoughts and feelings really works. We are there!

Love it. Now please get back to work!

[john jasson]

Thanks for your comment nnjcpl2002. I appreciate it so much.

I guess we're ready for another helping of naughty Sherrie pie. Hmmm. That has a ring to it. Maybe I'll trademark it and get her to come up with a recipe. Her baking creations are always to die for. There can't be too many food brand names with such lascivious origins.

ETA: Perchance Naughty Sherrie Tart would be more apt?

[john jasson]

The next week arrives high with anticipation to the extent that it’s affecting my day to day efficiency at work. We are both convinced that zero hour is at hand for Sherrie’s first descent into adultery. We are as giddy as a couple of kids in a playground, and it’s never very far from upfront in my mind. All week we can’t keep our hands off each other even more than usual.

As I keep emphasising, all our usual Sherrie and John stuff is always running in parallel. We are still soul mates and each other’s best friends and lovers no matter what. We have our life together that we treasure as much as ever going on beyond the wild and crazy stuff, and the heavy conversations about how we might inadvertently wreck what we’ve always taken for granted as sacred and forever. Everything’s normal, but nothing is. It’s such a persistently distracting jeopardy that my balls keep that tender, swollen feeling day after day because my cock remains hard for hours, and I constantly feel that I want to come. When I do come, twenty minutes later the feeling returns. There’s no escape.

On the Thursday we take the day off work and drive down to the coast. Brighton is just under over an hour from our town, so we sometimes head out there just to chill, walk the prom and the pier, hand in hand or arm in arm, or my arm around her with a hand resting on her sexy swaying hip as we stroll along. Perhaps we’ll move on to browsing the shops together; Sherrie buying a few things, or me finding her a gift. It’s a fillip for the soul to stand gazing out to sea together, with the spray on the breeze in our faces, and hear the sea birds calling noisily as they soar by, instinctively riding the thermals by just the occasional adjustment of a wing feather. We turn to each other for a kiss and a hug. Nice, comforting familiar stuff that anchors us. It’s what we call an “us” day like we’ve enjoyed since we met as teenagers. Sherrie drove us south and I will drive us back later. We are totally democratic in sharing everything; treats, chores, money, life experiences, marital sex, and, of course, the plotting of her debauchery.

In the mid afternoon we wander into a small pub that’s advertising food, and we order a late lunch. We’ve been drawn in by the charming olde worlde ambiance, and it appears just the ticket for passing a pleasant hour or so. While we are waiting for our meals to be served, we are chatting and laughing over our drinks. The conversation pauses, and we happen to look into each other’s eyes which has a track record of leading us into temptation. She’s this picture of endless love for me. But, of course, I know she is. She’s my golden girl; my beautiful angel; revered and desired in equal measure. We close in for a kiss just sitting there at the table in the pub. Our kiss becomes all embracing, our eyes are closed, our tongues entwined. My left arm is around her back and my right hand is caressing her cheek softly. The budgies from those early days still live on in us. Anyone can see we are utterly in love. We are transported into our own world, and all they have to do is leave us alone. Suddenly I feel Sherrie stiffen and remove her lips from mine. I open my eyes to see hers averted from me, and I follow her gaze up to an ominous presence that is now looming over us. The most miserable, sour old bastard we’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter is on our case, and has swiped what’s left of our drinks off the table:

SOB: Just stop that and get out of my pub. You are a disgrace!
J(shocked and mystified): What? What have we done wrong?
SOB(incredulous): You don’t know? You’re really that shameless?
J (trying to keep calm and stay reasonable): We aren’t doing anything shameful.
SOB: You’re embarrassing my regulars with your fornicating and I’ve had complaints. It’s disgusting.

J (laughing): Fornicating??! That’s not even accurate. What the hell are you talking about? Who complained? (losing rag now) Must be some jealous, cynical bastard who’s never been in love.

SOB: Never you mind. Just sod off out of here and take your tart with you, or I’ll call the police. We don’t want your sort bringing good time girls in here.

J: Fine. I’ll have a refund for the meals we ordered then, and mind your manners about my WIFE!
SOB (almost screaming): No you won’t. Just get out!! Now!!
S (starting to weep): Oh come on, John. Let’s just go. It doesn’t matter.
J: It does bloody matter. This tosser isn’t getting away with treating us like this.

SOB stands there holding our glasses and we’re eyeball to eyeball. Sherrie is becoming more upset and sobbing now. I hate the bastard for doing this to us, belittling us and hurting and insulting my lovely girl who is all heart and wouldn’t offend a fly. I want to punch him, but that really would bring a criminal charge. All we were doing was expressing our love by kissing. To us it’s a beautiful thing.

S (beside herself in anguish by now): John. Please! Let’s get out of here.
J (to SOB): You haven’t heard the last of this.
J (to Sherrie): Come on, babe. Leave the old trout to his miserable life.

We walk out and I put my arm around her. She’s normally confident, outgoing and assertive, but the SOB has made her nervous of us being demonstrative in public and she tenses up, looking around us to see if anyone is watching. She never did that before. I’m not having it. I get in front of her and hold her to me in a clinch.

J: Sweetheart. We don’t let an old shithouse like that change us, right? If people don’t like us displaying our love then that’s their problem, not ours. I am going to shame that fucker, you wait and see. No matter how old I get, I promise you now that I will never be mean to young people who are just expressing their love as we were in there. If I ever do get like him, please fucking shoot me.

We continue down the street and back to the shore, but the unpleasant incident has knocked the stuffing out of the day for us. We find it all the more shocking because we’ve always looked upon Brighton as such a laidback, live and let live kind of place. Somewhere where everyone can relax and be themselves. Sherrie has stopped crying, but she is quiet and reflective.

S: Let’s start making our way back home, John. I’m getting a bit weary anyway.
J: OK sweetheart, but don’t let that swine play on your mind. Forget about him now.

She links me closer and kind of snuggles up and somehow shrinks into to me as we walk slowly back to the car park. I move my arm out of the link with hers, and put it around her upper body, crushing her under my protective wing. Fucking obnoxious asshole.

I’m concerned about her low spirits as we set off on the drive back. Sherrie’s sitting in the passenger seat, but my usually bubbly wife is nowhere to be seen. I must have driven a mile wondering what to say next when she finally speaks:

S (tiny voice): Do you think that was a sign? What happened in there? All that upset.
J (mind in neutral): Eh? Sign of what?

S: This Paul thing. I’m worried that something is warning us. Nothing like that ever happened to us before.

J: How can you connect that poisonous old bastard to anything else? Probably nothing like that will ever happen again.

S: He called me a tart and a good time girl. I hated it, but I am aren’t I? And I’m all set to be a bigger one. He was right about me. It’s a warning. Like he saw that I have TART tattooed across my forehead or something.

J: You sound like my grandma. It’s not like you to believe superstition like that. You’re a scientist for goodness’ sake.

S(chews over my reply for a long moment): Yeah. Maybe I’m just nervous about tomorrow. Well, there’s no maybe. I definitely am. I’m not as cool as you seem to think! I’m shitting it when I’m not hot thinking about it. I go from one extreme to the other.

J: Don’t be nervous. You weren’t nervous in that shop doorway or sending those wild texts. Enjoy! Think of the fun you’re going to have. And I want every detail when you get back!!

At least she seems to have stopped picking at the sore of the bastard in the pub.

S: Are you sure you are OK still? I know you say you are, but…

J: Are you? You’ve been driving it pretty hard to get yourself laid lately. I thought you were mad keen. What’s changed? Is this you giving me yet another last chance to back out?

S: Maybe I’m giving me a last chance to back out. I don’t know. It’s nothing I can put my finger on. I suppose the closer it gets the more the reality sets in. Like I’ve said, it’s us I worry about. I wish I could go out and fuck him and not be worried that anything bad will happen between us, but….. I want him so bad, John, but I worry about hurting you, and us.

It’s crazy how both of us have ebbed and flowed at different times, each in turn trying to encourage and reassure, then later looking to pull back. Were we really cut out for this? Would we be better advised to just sit together nuzzling each other on our budgie perch until the day one of us drops off it?

J: Look, babe. We’ve gone into this thing both wildly excited. We’ve wound each other up about it. You wouldn’t even be doing it without me supporting you.

S: Yeah, babe. But that’s just an endless circle. You might be supporting me because it gets you hot, but they are my urges in the first place that you’re supporting aren’t they? I wouldn’t be doing it at all if I didn’t want him. Why do I get the hots for men that aren’t you when I love you with all of my being? I’m odd!

J: Everyone gets aroused over others they fancy. They just don’t have the courage and the strength in their relationship to do anything about it. We’ve said we aren’t going to pull back now. Please just do as your instincts tell you. What are they telling you?

I can see she’s searching for the right way to put her inner thoughts to me and isn’t finding it easy.

S: You don’t completely understand, John. Well, I don’t think I do fully either. But that worries me too because I need to know you have your eyes wide open.

J: Make me understand.

S: I’ll try to explain better. (another long pause while I can almost hear the cogs turning in her head).

S: It’s like my brain is wired separately for love and for sex. The love part is permanently focussed on you. You know that. But the sex part is different. It’s on you most of the time. I love our brilliant sex, and I wouldn’t change it. You know that, too.

J: Of course! We’re rock solid. Never doubt it.

S: Yes. But when I take one of these crazy notions, or a man arouses me, it’s like the sex part of my brain pushes you out of the way and lasers in on him, like really powerfully. I want him, or at least my body wants him. I’ve got to have him, and it’s hard for my logical mind to control. Just like Damien that night. Just like those slutty texts I sent to Paul. I don’t know where it comes from, honestly, but it’s a part of me that has its own momentum.

J: And that’s red hot, right?

S: For sure, no doubt about it, but it’s the danger of losing control of what I’m doing and making bad judgments that makes me nervous about hurting us, and about this whole thing.

J: We won’t lose control.

S: You might not, but it gets worse. The thought of me losing control excites me too. It’s like I actually want those men to take control of me. On one level, I couldn’t stand to lose it to that extent, really, but on another, the idea thrills me, and if it happens…. I don’t know…… It’s fucked up.

I find that pretty deep and profound, and plainly so does she, but it’s very arousing all the same. It seems to ratchet the sexual tension up yet another notch.


J: Jesus, that’s so hot, sweetheart.

S: It’s dangerous too though, isn’t it? Remember when you said that if Damien dragged me out of the pub by my hair that night, I would have gladly gone with him?

J: I’ll never forget any of that as long as I live.

S: You were right. I would have done. I tried to shrug it off with you at the time and downplay it, but the way I felt, I’d have fucked him outside the pub in a heartbeat. Didn’t matter that we were in company; didn’t matter that he was with Jeannie; didn’t matter that I was with you. Anyway, you know the state I was in. That’s how powerful this urge can be in me sometimes and why I fear the sane side of me losing control.

J: I do understand that. It’s hot, but it’s scary. So what comes next? Totally your call.

S: Honestly? I really, really want to be with Paul. You can’t doubt that after what I’ve told you and reading our texting.

J: I certainly don’t doubt it. I’m right on board with it.

S: I want to feel his body in bed with me, kissing me. He’s a great kisser. Then I want him inside me, giving me orgasms. That’s my sex brain talking. I’m also scared that with Paul I want to get close to him. Know him better. Share more time with him. I enjoy being with him. You remember what I said about the energy of being with another man?

J: Like it changes the dynamic?

S: Yeah, I want to feel all that, but I’m scared that I want it because I always want us too. I’m greedy. It’s crazy that I can tell you all this crap without you freaking out, but I’m so glad I can. I can share the worry with you and not carry it all on my own. I love you, John. You’re so special.

Well she seems to be getting her spirit back. As we drive on through the countryside, nearing home, she finds even more.

S: Is it ok with you if I go back to his with him if we are getting it on tomorrow night?

J: Christ, I haven’t even considered the detailed arrangements. Looks like you have though.

S: Just thinking of the practicalities. We can hardly fuck in the shop doorway near the bus stop can we? Well I suppose we wouldn’t be the first, but I don’t want to if there’s an alternative. (she actually giggles which is a good sign).

I omit to tell her about the hot, but degrading, vision I had when we strolled in the park on Saturday, of them actually fucking like dogs in the shop doorway as she told me what they’d done.

This has developed into a surreal conversation after the lovey dovey ‘us’ day we’ve spent. I marvel that she can turn the mood around like this, apparently without difficulty. An hour ago she was deep into a painful introspection of her personal moral degeneracy prompted by the old bigot at the pub, yet now she’s coolly fathoming out the logistics of tomorrow night’s fuckfest with her prospective lover.

J: Well yeah, obviously I don’t want you doing it on the street in town! I’d just thought you’d maybe be back a bit later than usual looking all dishevelled and freshly fucked.

S: Well it might work like that, but I want to check with you….. (hesitates).

J: What.

S: Would you be ok if I stayed there the night and came home on Saturday? I’d like to spend the night with him really, if I can. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I want to enjoy it and not have to rush it.

I’m getting rock hard. I’m thinking of the way she described her “sex brain” pushing me out of the way to be with him and I’m assuming it’s doing that now. She wants him Friday night, and it looks as though she wants a repeat performance on Saturday morning.

J: Of course sweetheart, but if that’s the case, you must discreetly send me a text so I know that you’re safe.

S: Of course I would.

She smiles a strange smile at me, and there’s a mixture of excitement, fear, guilt and shame in it. It’s totally mind blowing. So hot, it’s hard to comprehend. That night in bed we make warm, tender love. No fireworks, just caring and taking it slow. We know that we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. We’re doing this; well, she is.

[nekkedoutdoors]

I should be a sleep given my time zone. But instead have been up for some hours working on a story of my own for this very site and feeling real good about the the shape it's taking. I received a notice via email you've posted in your timeline. Awesome, hopefully some John and Sherrie goodness to enjoy. And Enjoy I do. A wonderfully telling full of rich painted scenery along with a full range of felt emotions, from anger at SOB, sympathy for Sherrie's embarrassment in the pub and of course arousal during both of your thoughts, doubts and conversations.

I close this site and head back my work and start rereading what I've typed so far.. Huge mistake. I quickly realise what I have on the page is shite after reading your beautifully presented and descriptive script. Lesson learned, one should never follow your writings with their own. At least this one shouldn't. Thank you for continuing to share your intimate life with us.

[john jasson]

I close this site and head back my work and start rereading what I've typed so far.. Huge mistake. I quickly realise what I have on the page is shite after reading your beautifully presented and descriptive script. Lesson learned, one should never follow your writings with their own. At least this one shouldn't. Thank you for continuing to share your intimate life with us.

Don't believe you, just as I didn't with Chris, and look at him now!!! The man has a unique style that deluges the reader in a constant stream of imagery.

I am sure that your story will also be nothing short of excellent, nekked, and I look forward to reading it with anticipation.

Once more, I give gracious thanks for your kind comment.

[Chrislydi]

I think we all feel fairly humbled and inadequate after reading John at his flowing best. My emotions were all over the place, your writing has that power, it invades my psyche were I become the seething young man in the pub and feel the frisson of the day before. While I can empathise with your building excitement, my overwhelming sense was of added poignancy and pathos, of what might be compromised or unalterably changed forever.

Chris.

[john jasson]

I think we all feel fairly humbled and inadequate after reading John at his flowing best. My emotions were all over the place, your writing has that power, it invades my psyche were I become the seething young man in the pub and feel the frisson of the day before. While I can empathise with your building excitement, my overwhelming sense was of added poignancy and pathos, of what might be compromised or unalterably changed forever.

Chris.

Thank you, Chris. I love that take.

[setv4]

I'm really enjoying this Hot story of You and your Wife's journey. I lost track of it back in late January, but I found it again yesterday, and have now been caught up! Thank you for Sharing these Hot recollections! I understand why it makes you get So Hot by her actions and yours to her actions.

[PaNic]

Loving it and eagerly awaiting the next chapter! Keep writing please...

[anonymister1948]

First, Thank You for sharing this with us! Your writing takes me right there with you, something I'm not apt to do with most internet threads.

The reason folks want you to publish this in the library (just ask a mod) is that we don't ever want this beautiful piece of work to disappear into the bowels of some hard drive, never to be read and enjoyed again. Please?

[afagehi7]

First, Thank You for sharing this with us! Your writing takes me right there with you, something I'm not apt to do with most internet threads.

The reason folks want you to publish this in the library (just ask a mod) is that we don't ever want this beautiful piece of work to disappear into the bowels of some hard drive, never to be read and enjoyed again. Please?

Agree, this deserves to be maintained for future generations of hotwife enthusiasts. Threads here are dropped way too soon but it's their site and they can run it however they want. I do see the neeed for space but just imagine how much valuable information has been lost.

[john jasson]

I'm really enjoying this Hot story of You and your Wife's journey. I lost track of it back in late January, but I found it again yesterday, and have now been caught up! Thank you for Sharing these Hot recollections! I understand why it makes you get So Hot by her actions and yours to her actions.

Hi setv4. Thank you for catching up again! I appreciate your taking the trouble.