The room was filled with an eerie light that Sunday morning as I sat on a stool in the kitchen, my laptop open on the table in front of me, the house surrounded by a snowy white blanket.

It was mid-January, two weeks into the New Year, and, unusually for England, we were having a proper winter. Well used to grey skies and constant drizzle throughout the winter months, we English aren’t used to cold, snowy weather so the recent falls had caught the nation by surprise. As it was the weekend and we had nowhere special to go, it made a pretty and pleasant change.

My husband Pete was still asleep upstairs and would probably remain so for at least another hour. The ironing was done, the kitchen was clean and tidy so I had no reason not to spend time on my writing and doing a little online investigation into the important subject that had been dominating both my and my husband’s thoughts for the last month; our new-found lifestyle.

And what lifestyle might appeal to a normal, outwardly boring, middle-class, middle-aged professional couple with two grownup children? Healthy eating? Exercise? Vegetarianism?

Don’t you believe it; sometimes I couldn’t believe it myself, but it was true.

Only two months ago I had become a Hotwife and my husband a Cuckold. I was being regularly fucked by another man and Pete was letting it happen.

For a long time, wife sharing had been the main feature in our bedroom fantasies. Many times Pete had insisted that, as he seemed unable to provide me with the orgasms we both wanted, it would be okay if I took a lover who could. Indeed he had been trying to persuade me to sleep with another man for well over a year before, two months ago and unknown to him, it had finally happened.

In early November, after over twenty years of marriage, I had become an unfaithful wife for the first time when my affair with Tony, a long-time family friend began.

Despite Pete’s continual urging, when my first act of infidelity actually occurred it had been entirely unplanned. As a result it had been crude, feral, short-lived - and an absolutely incredible experience.

I had bumped into Tony, one of our closest family friends on a train returning from London. I had been writing one of my erotic stories on my laptop at the time so was already more than a little aroused, especially as one of the main characters had been based on him. Tony had offered me a lift home, had given me his usual over-friendly kiss and ‘farewell fondle’ but this time, for some reason, I hadn’t moved his hands away from my bottom. This time I had just let nature take its course.

That course involved us both falling precipitously into a pit of lust. He had stripped me, groped me, fingered me and fucked me passionately in our lounge, on the floor, still half dressed. I can still vividly remember the unbelievable, unexpected and overwhelming sensations that had rippled through my body when, for the first time since our marriage, another man’s unfamiliar, erect cock had actually entered my body.

I could remember even more clearly how it had felt a short while later to have that man ejaculate inside me, to feel the throbbing of his ugly, stubby but oh-so-thick cock in my over-sized vagina as it pumped his seed into my stunned but highly accepting body.

From there, we had embarked on a passionate affair until, a month later and unable to stand the guilt any longer, I had confessed all to my husband in bed. Pete had been trying once again to persuade me to take a lover but although my infidelity was in theory his dream come true, the reality had hit him hard.

After the worst three nights of my life - alone and awake in our marital bed while Pete slept first in the guest room then spent the next two nights somewhere I was yet to discover - my extraordinary husband had told me that, subject to three strict conditions, he could live with the situation.

I could keep both my lover and my husband.

And so I had become a Hotwife, Pete had become a willing cuckold and our lives had taken a dramatic change. So far it had been for the better; our new lifestyle was barely two months old but it was almost unbelievable how we had fitted so easily and seamlessly into it.

But I couldn’t be complacent; it was very much still a novelty for all three of us. How things would develop over time remained to be seen but thanks to my researches, the readers of my online erotic stories and most of all, my real-life cuckold online friends, I was already aware of many of the risks involved.

Unfortunately that didn’t mean I wasn’t over-confident about how well everything was proceeding; I had my loving handsome husband, my gorgeous, thick-cocked lover and my home and family all at the same time.

How could things possibly be any better?

Little did I realise I was going to make some very ill-advised decisions over the coming weeks, but as I sat at my laptop that January morning, life looked bright.

I looked at the new smart phone alongside my laptop. Tony had given it to me as a late Christmas present so that he and I could communicate in private. There was no point upsetting Pete for no good cause, I reasoned, and the covert nature of our highly sexualised chats could remain between the two of us.

It was the first bad decision.

Tony and I had been messaging each other several times a day, the subject almost always being sex. His latest had come well after midnight when my husband had been asleep. I had replied secretly from underneath the duvet. Tony wanted to see me desperately; the message-sex we were indulging in wasn’t doing the job for him and he was feeling frustrated.

To be honest, so was I. My dates with Tony had been put on temporary hold for a week or so for a somewhat embarrassing reason. I hope readers will forgive me going into a subject some might find distasteful but the truth was that I was having a heavy version of one of my increasingly erratic and unpredictable ‘times of the month’.

Periods are fundamental to a woman’s existence but are almost never referred to in erotic literature. In the same way that John Wayne’s revolver never runs out of bullets in the movies, so women in erotica are never unavailable for sex if the opportunity arises! The only time periods are ever mentioned is when their absence indicates an unexpected and usually unwelcome pregnancy.

In my case, at the age of fifty-one I was both surprised and pleased at the evidence of my continued fertility. My mother’s menopause had come late and it appeared mine was going to come even later. Most of my friends were already complaining about hot flushes, talking about HRT, had angry bad tempers and an almost complete lack of interest in sex.

The contrast with me and my condition could not have been more marked.

After my husband’s vasectomy many years earlier, we had abandoned all forms of birth control, apart from the occasional novelty condom. The ribbed and studded ones could bring a real thrill to our lovemaking. Tony had also been ‘snipped’ so my middle-aged body was free of artificial hormones and sex with both men could be worry-free and unimpeded by latex.

Skin on skin; flesh on flesh! As it should be!

The idea that, in theory at least, a man’s seed could still make a baby in my belly had led to many exciting fantasies with my husband prior to my affair and to my sessions with Tony now. Add to that my lifelong insistence that all sex must end up with me being properly inseminated and you had a heady mixture of lust and the danger of illicit conception to add to the pure physical pleasure of uninhibited, uncomplicated sex.

Disappointed by my unavailability, Tony had insisted he didn’t care, telling me that he and his estranged wife Julie had routinely fucked throughout all her periods. That told me rather more than I wanted to know about the sex drive one of my closest friends; a woman my age who was currently involved in a scandalous affair with a Personal Trainer twenty years her junior.

Prior to her affair, it would have been hard to imagine that china-doll-pretty mother being interested in anything as sordid as sex. Her well-publicised affair had abruptly changed all that and this news about her inability to take a week off fucking each month added powerful new images I found hard to digest.

Whatever Tony was used to, mid-period sex was definitely not for me so for the first time since our affair had begun he had to cope without fucking me for a whole week.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed too, but at least it gave me more time to write. The sexual madness that had taken place over Christmas and New Year had been bewildering, and I needed a break to get a grip on reality again. It had also given my imagination a renewed sharpness, providing the inspiration for several new and exciting stories so, despite the disappointment I was looking forward to it.

I hunched over the screen of my laptop, opened my secret author’s email address and smiled; there were half a dozen messages, several of which were from my real-life cuckold friends. Only three of my oldest pen-pals knew the situation my husband and I were really in. All had been real life cuckolds for many years, and I valued their advice highly; it had stood me in good stead so far.

I opened the first message; it was from Simon, a widower in his seventies from Australia whose late wife had cuckolded him happily for most of their marriage. As I started reading, I realised how much I still had to learn from the voice of experience, especially when it came to understanding how my husband must be feeling.

Had I listened to that advice more assiduously, I might have avoided a lot of trouble in the coming months.

In the fortnight since New Year, I had spent three full evenings with Tony, all in his apartment and all with my husband’s agreement. Tony’s kids had gone back to their respective jobs, girlfriends or Universities either just before or just after New Year’s Eve so he and I had been able to find a bit of privacy after the hectic activities of the Christmas period.

I had gone into the holidays expecting a break from my infidelities and a return to what passed for normality in our house. In the event I had been wrong; my thoughtful husband had contrived to provide Tony and me with an unexpected but very welcome afternoon in bed together between the two big celebrations. This had been a wonderful surprise.

As I left Tony’s flat after a particularly energetic two hours in bed, I found myself unable to open the building’s security door. Tony came downstairs to release me just as Pete reached the same door carrying his umbrella. For the first time since I had confessed my affair, my husband and my lover had met face to face.

Both men had behaved impeccably, though stiffly and awkwardly. I had been proud of both of them but as Pete escorted me through the rain to his car, Tony had reminded us that we would all be together for the big New Year party in a few days’ time.

This had unsettled me; although nothing had gone amiss in the short time the two men had been together, being in the same room for several hours and with alcohol flowing in abundance might have had a very different and much less pleasant result.

Although he accepted our current relationship, my husband had not forgotten that Tony had actually seduced me when I was still very much supposed to be in a monogamous marriage. He had been fucking me regularly for a full month before I had confessed to Pete and our unusual three-way arrangement had become ‘official.’

Naturally my husband felt bitter about this; Tony had been one of his closest friends as well as mine. Though he hid it well, I knew Pete considered those first few weeks of our affair to have been a betrayal by both of us.

So, with no prospect of being fucked by anyone for a week, I was sitting that morning at my laptop, a fresh chapter of my latest story on the screen, typing as fast as I could. Before the images in my mind faded, I was trying to record all the details I could remember of that amazing New Year’s Eve only two weeks ago that I had gone into with some trepidation.

And I had to do it before my husband woke up!

***

I know some people find it an unsettling, difficult time, but I have always loved New Year with all its excitement, newness and promise for the future. With our new lifestyle just bedding in, this felt like a particularly appropriate time for me, my husband and my lover as I began to get dressed for the party we were attending in the smart ballroom of our city’s only five-star hotel.

Our older son had gone back to London and was spending the night itself with his girlfriend and London friends in Trafalgar Square. Our daughter and her brother were celebrating with their ‘home’ friends, going clubbing in town, so Pete and I were a couple again.

We were to be part of a large group enjoying dinner, a live band, doing a lot of dancing and even a little singing as the New Year arrived. I had great hopes that the evening would be a lot of light-hearted fun but of course was apprehensive about Pete and Tony being in the same room for so long.

It could be okay; it probably would be okay, but you never can tell with men, I thought with a hollow laugh. After all, who would have thought my own gorgeous, athletic, macho husband would not just tolerate but actively encourage me to cuckold him on a regular basis?

The evening started well; I had plenty of time to get ready. Pete had insisted that I dressed more sexily than I would usually do when out with this group and I was very happy with this idea. I had chosen the Little Black Dress we had bought for my first Hotwife date.

I hadn’t worn it since then but thought it was too expensive to hang in the wardrobe unused. Besides, I wanted to know whether Tony would recognise it or whether he had been too anxious to tear it off me to notice its sophistication. When I told him, Pete liked this idea a lot and the memories it invoked.

As before, he ran a lovely warm bath for me with my favourite jojoba bubbles, brought me a glass of Prosecco and for half an hour I luxuriated in the warmth, shaving my arms, legs and other places, wishing I had done it earlier in the day or had even had myself waxed the day before.

My glass was refilled as I began to trim my bikini line. It wasn’t strictly necessary but, now that my husband wasn’t the only one to see my private places, I had started to pay a lot more attention to my appearance ‘down there’.

I trimmed the wilder hairs at the base and edges of my triangle with a narrow-bladed razor. Then I trimmed around the sides and in the creases at the top of my inner thighs, the intention being to reduce the dark, curly triangle to a fashionable wide vertical band – an ‘airstrip’ as my women’s’ magazines had called it.

I didn’t like the look of my first attempt, so tried again, making the strip a little narrower. That still looked wrong so I finished my second glass of prosecco and tried again. It was awkward getting the right angle in the bath, especially when shaving my left side with my right hand and the result was lopsided. I tried again without real success; the amount of hair remaining was getting smaller but no neater and no more attractive. I was beginning to feel frustrated.

Then something came over me. Maybe I was already a little tipsy, maybe I was just clumsy; I’ll never know for sure but before I could stop myself I found I had deliberately shaved off almost all the remaining pubic hair on my left hand side!

I had never, ever done this before and really couldn’t understand how it had happened. Having started, of course I couldn’t leave myself with pubic hair on only half my vulva so I had no alternative but to carry on and shave off all the rest, giving myself a homemade Hollywood for the first time in my life!

I lay back in the water, my eyes wide in surprise. What on earth had I done? I sat up and stared between my open thighs. There was no doubt about it; for the first time since puberty, I had no pubic hair. A shiver of shock mixed with an extraordinary amount of arousal rippled through me.

At fifty-one years old, married with three grown up children, I had just acquired my first ever fully-shaven ‘pussy’!

I had always hated that word; it’s always seemed rather slutty and, I must confess, a bit too teenage American for my taste, but to my amazement, once my middle-class, middle-aged English vulva was devoid of all hair, the word ‘pussy’ seemed to describe it perfectly.

I ran my hand over my mound. It wasn’t quite as hairless as I had thought; there were a good few stray patches and more than a little stubble but having got this far, I really had to finish the job. Steeling myself and in constant fear of cutting my most sensitive parts, I set to work.

I have to say that shaving properly was much more fiddly than I had expected; my pubic hair grew in every direction. Finding all the stray hairs and dealing with unexpected stubble was quite literally a pain – I nicked myself more than once but having gone so far I really had to see it through.

Fortunately I’ve never been very a hairy person ‘down there’ or I might have missed the ball. As it was, the water was distinctly cool by the time I got out of the bath but by then I was smooth as smooth can be – as well as a bit shocked and bewildered.

I smothered my newly-bare and worryingly pink vulva with Pete’s after-shave moisturising lotion; thanking God he used the un-perfumed kind for sensitive skin. Then I stood in front of the mirror and inspected my new self.

Wow!

To my delight, despite the stretch-lines and wrinkles a woman my age cannot avoid, my newly-hairless vulva really did make my naked body look younger. And looking younger made me feel younger too. A surge of excitement rushed through me as I wondered what sex would be like with no grey-brown curly hairs to get in the way.

And as for oral sex... My God, I couldn’t wait!

I dressed carefully and self-consciously high heels and my LBD, its shortness bringing a new meaning to the word ‘Little’ and making black tights rather than stockings a necessity. Although the event was called a ball, the era of ball gowns was long past. Cocktail dresses were now the norm for these events which was a considerable relief. As a girl, I had been to a few balls arranged by my father’s business. The heat and discomfort generated by my bulky dress had made the occasions a nightmare.

This dress was so short that over-heating would be highly unlikely.

Pete of course wore his ‘black tie’ evening suit. Though in theory this meant all the men would look the same and the women would be showcased, in practice the plain black suits made a man’s physical build and personal poise even more noticeable.

I have to say that on those grounds, Pete looked amazing. His suit had been tailor-made prior to my affair and fitted him perfectly. Since it had started both Pete and I had spent much more time at the gym resulting in a dress size fall for me and a much more impressive physique for my husband.

What he would think of my first ever shaved ‘pussy’ I could only guess but as he wasn’t in the bedroom when I donned my knickers, he didn’t get to see my new bareness.

To add to the feeling of sexiness I wore a pair of my new Christmas panties; a black thong with a microscopic front to avoid VPL’s under my tight fitting clothes and of course I wore my bracelet again with its increasing number of charms.

As I brushed my hair one last time, I felt very anxious. I was pretty sure both Pete and Tony would love my new hairless body but I wasn’t completely certain. Still, it was another expression of my new Hotwife status which was what my husband at least had said he wanted. And it certainly marked the start of a New Me in a New Year.

By the time Pete returned to the bedroom I was almost ready. He stared at me open-mouthed.

“Penny. You look... amazing!” he gasped.

I positively glowed with pleasure at this obviously genuine compliment.

“You’re pretty fit yourself,” I said in return.

That was certainly true. Dissatisfaction with my handsome husband’s appearance had played no part at all in my cheating on him. As usual, Pete looked gorgeous; slim, athletic, sexy and for a moment I felt surprised it was me and not him that had been the first to stray from the life monogamous.

As I took his arm and he escorted me proudly to our taxi, I briefly wondered if I would have been able to live as easily with an unfaithful husband as he could live with an unfaithful wife.

It’s unfair and unreasonable I know, but right then I didn’t want to ever have to find out.

***

I’m pleased to say that the whole New Year Event was great. The food was good, the music great and the company simply first class.

Our friends are always good fun to be with and there was quite a lot of flirting going on all night. I was very pleased about this, partly because flirting always makes me feel attractive but also because I kept asking myself what they would all say if they knew how my life had changed; if they knew what we were really up to behind closed doors.

The only drawback was my dress. It might have been the occasion, it might have been the increased awareness and sensitivity ‘down there’ that my newly shaven pussy was bringing; it might have been that the dress kept riding up my thighs or even that it was simply too short, but for the hour before we sat down to eat I kept having to tug it down my legs to keep my tights and knickers concealed.

This made me feel very uncomfortable but kept my husband amused.

My bracelet with its hidden meaning was a success again and kept jangling all evening. The secret it contained made me feel sexy and mysterious; from time to time Pete and I would exchange glances and share conspiratorial smiles. Several of my friends noticed it on my wrist. Most thought it looked a bit bare and would look a lot better with more charms!

It took all my self-control not to giggle as I told them I was working on that!

Even before my infidelities began, Pete had always liked watching me flirt with other men but of course there was a much greater ‘edge’ to it that night. I found it fun too but this time, as I exchanged light-hearted, semi-innocent banter with our male friends, I found myself wondering which of them actually did want to bed me for real and which were just playing the game.

And of course, I asked myself which, if any of the men I would consider allowing to take me to bed me. I was sure that my husband was having the same thoughts if the expression on his handsome face was any guide.

To my relief and to their considerable credit, the possibly disastrous problem of my husband and my lover meeting passed without incident. Tony wasn’t sitting on our table which helped ease us into the potential minefield, but in fact once again both men behaved impeccably by making sure they never came close to each other.

In other circumstances it might have been amusing to watch the way in which the two men moved around the tables and the room, taking different routes to the bar and ensuring they were never at the same end of the dance floor. Although their avoidance measures seemed mutual, I did think Tony was taking extra care to keep out of Pete’s way.

Not wanting to make life any more difficult, I had avoided having any more than the lightest and shortest of conversations with my lover in public and up to ten-thirty hadn’t danced with him at all, even in a group. I was feeling relieved that nothing untoward had happened and was celebrating that relief with a fifth glass of champagne before taking my place on the dance floor again when I heard a familiar voice close by.

“You are allowed to dance with him, Penn,” my husband whispered, sidling up to me and nodding towards Tony on the dance floor.

“I thought it would be better not to,” I replied. “I don’t want to start any gossip.”

“The gossip’s already started,” he told me. “Sally and Claire have both asked me what’s wrong and wondered if the two of you fallen out?”

“Oh God! I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Think about it now, Penn. We’ve have been close friends with them for so long, if these two busybodies think we’ve had a fall-out they won’t stop ferreting until they’ve found a reason. And we sure and Hell don’t want that, do we?”

“So what can we do?”

“Dance with him Penny!” Pete’s voice was exasperated. “Just dance with him like you used to. Make sure you don’t get over-friendly and give it all away but avoiding him like this is asking for trouble.”

“What about you? You’re avoiding him too.”

“That’s not the same. Everyone knows that at a do like this Tony will be with the girls not hanging round the bar with the rest of us. Besides everyone’s looking at you tonight, not me.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean everyone – male and female - can’t keep their eyes off you; that dress is so short and so tight. You look amazing!”

“It’s not too short is it?” I asked in horror.

“It’s perfect and you look perfect,” he replied. “Now go and dance with him before someone starts a rumour.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“For God’s sake, Penny. Dance!”

I made my way back to the dance floor and began gyrating with my girlfriends at the edge of the floor before gradually and, I hoped, inconspicuously moving through the crowd towards where Tony was dancing with a small group of our mutual friends, mostly female.

The look of sheer pleasure on his face when I joined the group was heart and vulva-warming. A song or two later he and I had separated from the group and were dancing together in the furthest, least visible corner of the floor.

“I’ve missed you, Penny,” he said in a soft a voice as the loud music would allow.

“It’s only two days since we last...” I began then stopped.

“I know,” he grinned. “My bed still smells of you, and I can still taste you.”

There was something unhygienic about this, but it certainly turned me on as we danced.

“Couldn’t we slip away for a while?” he continued a few minutes later.

“It’s too risky,” I said though I would have loved to feel him inside me again. “And what would Pete do?”

“You’re right,” he agreed, pulling a disappointed face.

For the next half hour I danced with Tony as my husband had insisted and as I desperately wanted, getting hotter both outside and inside as our bodies ‘accidentally’ brushed up against each other. It was not how a married woman should have with danced in public with another man but the floor was so crowded I don’t think anyone noticed. At least I hoped they hadn’t.

Half an hour before midnight Tony and I even enjoyed a slow dance in the furthest corner of the floor, our bodies pressed close together in full public view. The public wasn’t interested but it was still irresponsibly risky, rubbing together surrounded by our friends. It felt wonderful being in the strong arms of my tall, dominant lover. I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest as memories of all we had done over the last two months passed through my mind. As his hands risked a brief journey to my buttocks and he pressed my body against his I could clearly feel his short, thick erection pressing against my tummy.

The memory of what that organ had done to me and still could do filled my rather tipsy mind.

As I approached, Pete broke off from the small group he was talking with, poured a long glass of water and greeted me with it. The heat in the room was stifling; I thanked him and took a long sip.

“Was that better?” I asked with a smile, nodding to the dance floor. “No-one will think we’ve fallen out now.”

Pete grinned.

“That’s certainly true.”

We stood and watched the dancing for a few minutes, me sipping my water, Pete with a glass of red wine.

“Do you two need some private time?”

His voice was low and calm. I turned towards him, wondering if I had misheard with all the noise.

“Sorry?” I said, leaning closer towards my husband.

Pete inclined his head, nodded in the general direction Tony had gone and whispered in my ear.

“It’s nearly midnight. Once we’ve all heard the chimes, I’m going to have a drink in the bar. Our taxi is due at one o’clock. If you’re very, very discreet, I don’t need to see you until then.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, amazed.

“Don’t you want to?” he asked.

I thought for a moment though the answer was obvious.

“It would be very nice, but only if you’re really sure,” I told him, almost unable to believe the conversation that was taking place. “I don’t know where we could go though.”

“That’s your problem,” Pete smiled. “Just make sure you’re discreet and don’t take too long!”

“When should we go!? Now?”

“Not now. Wait until straight after midnight. There’ll be so much chaos no-one will notice you’re both missing; we’ll all be kissing strangers and shaking hands”.

My tummy filled with butterflies.

“And you’re sure you really wouldn’t mind?” I asked, double-checking through disbelief.

“Let’s start the year as we mean to go on,” he said ruefully. “I thought it might happen. I’m ready for it.”

“Do you think he’ll want to?”

Pete just gave me a don’t-be-so-stupid look.

“You’re amazing,” I told him honestly. “We’ll be discreet, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Pete told me. “But you’ve got to be back by one.”

“I could get a taxi,” I said quietly.

“No, I’ll wait here for you,” he replied. “You can’t risk staying out all night. You might meet our errant daughter sneaking back home for breakfast, still drunk. That would be hard to explain.”

“Okay,” I agreed readily.

“Usual rules?”

He was referring of course to the conditions we had agreed when Pete had first found out about my infidelity and had accepted its continuing; that I should return home without cleaning myself up, must give him as much access to my used body as he wanted and must answer honestly any question he asked, however detailed and personal it might be.

“Of course,” I agreed. “Pete?”

“Yes?”

“You’re amazing. I love you so much.”

He smiled and turned away, leaving me stunned and in disbelief but very aroused.

I returned to the dance floor and our friends where, a short while later the band began the musical run-up to midnight. A short while after that the broadcast chimes of Big Ben rang through the room followed by and the traditional opening bars of Auld Lang Syne and some of the worst, most out-of-tune singing the country has ever known.

I kissed and hugged both friends and strangers, wishing the world Good Luck. I’m sure that several of our other male friends groped my easily-accessible bottom when we were all kissing but I didn’t object; it made me feel sexy and alive rather than affronted. Knowing my husband was watching all this happen made me feel really naughty too but I made sure I did nothing to embarrass him.

Pete was still watching surreptitiously as Tony approached for his Good Luck Grope. As our mouths approached each other and his hands fell to my buttocks I whispered Pete’s proposition in his ear. The way Tony’s fingers dug into my bottom gave me all the answer I needed.

“Where could we go?” I whispered. He thought for a moment.

“My friends have a room. They’re staying over. Maybe I can get the key for a while.”

“You won’t tell them why?” I asked horrified.

“Of course not. I’ll tell them I’m drunk and need a lie down.”

“What if they walk in on us?”

“No chance of that. They’ll be dancing and drinking till dawn! Wait there!”

Tony disappeared into the melee for a couple of minutes then returned from a different direction, patting his hip pocket.

“Success!” he grinned. “I can’t wait. Come on!”

“You go first. I’ll come soon,” I whispered, knowing we couldn’t be seen leaving together.

“You’re sure Pete’s okay about it?” he asked as if unable to believe his New Year luck had already started.

“It was his idea,” I assured him. “Go quickly before anyone notices!”

He began to leave.

“Tony!” I hissed anxiously.

He turned back to me, his face a picture of childish excitement.

“What?”

“The room number perhaps?” I smiled indulgently.

Tony hit himself on the forehead with his palm and told me then, with extraordinary speed, he melted into the crowd and disappeared.

I went back to our abandoned table and located my champagne glass. It was empty but a quick glance around the party-popper-covered devastation revealed a quarter-full bottle that was still fairly cold. I emptied the bottle into my glass and downed half of it in one long draught.

Two minutes later, I sidled out of the room through the quietest door and walked as casually as I could through the hotel’s brightly lit corridors towards the bedrooms. My chest felt tight, my heart was thumping and my knees felt weak. I had to pass through reception to do so and to my horror had to smile and nod to a couple of acquaintances who were putting on their coats.

It felt as if the eyes of the world were upon me; as if I had the word ‘adulterer’ on my forehead; as if everyone knew where I was going and why. I had to steel myself, saying over and over in my mind that it was nonsense but to my shame this only added to the thrill. By the time the lift had reached the right floor, my knees were even weaker and my pulse was racing.

God alone knew what state my knickers were in!

For a moment I stood outside the door, double-checking it was the right room. It stood slightly ajar; a glow spilling through the crack to invite me in. I should have had second thoughts as I stood on the threshold of committing adultery yet another time; I should have had the traditional battle between good and evil going on inside my head but right then, the overwhelming impact on my mind was coming from between my thighs.

I knocked on the door, pushed it slowly open and stepped inside to where a tall, strong male body was waiting in the semi-darkness.

I had barely passed into the room before a wave of pure, unconstrained lust overwhelmed me and I simply fell on Tony, pinning his astonished body to the wall. Our mouths collided hard and passionately, lips apart, tongues entwined, deep in each other’s throats. My hands were on his body; on his face, in his hair, on his bulging groin.

Once he had recovered from the shock of my assault, Tony responded in kind. His hands were on my waist, on my back, on my buttocks as we kissed frantically, our tongues writhing around each other until a small stream of saliva began to drip down my chin. Then his hands were on my tiny boobs, crushing them cruelly through my dress and bra.

It hurt so much; I loved it even more!

My hand massaged his bulge, my hand, pressed between our bodies fumbling with his belt. I felt my dress being raised and instinctively lifted my right leg then looped it around Tony’s left, making room for his probing, exploring fingers. In an instant, his hand was on my vulva, fingering me through my tights and knickers.

I moaned into his mouth, thrusting my tongue as deep as I could between his lips; he sucked on it. I felt his fingers slipping inside the elastic of my waistband and diving deep inside my tights to grab my buttocks. His strong hands were on my bony cheeks, squeezing them, forcing my vulva hard against his hips.

His grip was rough; it hurt too but again, I loved it.

Our mouths still sealed together, his hands tore at my tights, ripping the delicate nylon with ease, exposing my new black panties. His fingers slipped under the elastic front, sliding down my belly and between my thighs to cup my vulva…

He froze!

“Jesus Penny! You’ve shaved!” he gasped in astonishment

“That’s right; I’ve got a real pussy now,” I hissed, panting a little, not wanting the momentum to slow. “Like it, Lover Boy?”

“Do I like it? Christ Penny! It’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever done!”

“So far!" I challenged. "What does it feel like?”

“Hot! Smooth and hot! And wet!”

“So what are you going to do with it?” I hissed again.

“I’m going to lick it, Penny!”

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to lick your bald pussy, Mrs. Penny Barker!”

“Then stop talking for Christ’s sake!” I growled. “And get on with it. Lick my new pussy! Lick it hard!”

Tony’s fingers worked on my vulva with an energy and passion unlike anything they had done before. My newly-shaved, highly sensitive skin felt every microscopic undulation in his fingertips as they worked their way over every millimetre of my bared flesh.

“Mmmmm! Mmmmm!”

I moaned into his neck, clinging to him for balance as I trembled and shook. My right leg still raised, my left knee went weak as Tony’s fingers finally entered the moist mess of my slit and worked their way along the folds of flesh within.

My vulva must have been gushing if the heat that emanated from my groin was to be believed. Everything felt different; every sensation heightened by the newness and lewdness of my bare pussy. Tony’s fingers entered my vagina, twisting left and right, driving into my loose cavern with force. Another finger joined the first, then to my amazement another, stretching me painfully, more tightly than I had ever felt before.

My knees trembled uncontrollably for a second then gave way. I collapsed against him, feeling his strong body against mine, some of my weight taken by the strong hand in my pussy, my boobs tight against his chest. A moment later my vagina had been deserted, his arms were beneath my legs and I was being carried bodily towards the bed.

The mattress was soft under my back, bouncing as Tony straddled my body, dragging my too-short dress upwards until it was jammed under my armpits. His hands tore at my tights, the remaining strands of nylon parting easily, their unsecured legs sliding down mine until they bunched at my knees.

He grabbed at my black panties; the damaged elastic yielded even more. A moment later they were away, God knew where and Tony’s handsome, lust-filled face was plunging down between my thighs.

“Ooooohhhh!”

My whole body convulsed as his tongue touched the electrified flesh of my newly-shaven vulva.

“Jesus!”

I shook with heightened pleasure, my thighs closing on the sides of his head. He lashed out with his tongue a second, then a third time.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”

Though not in Pete’s class, the tonguing Tony gave my freshly shaved pussy was simply sublime. Within seconds my whole body was rocking with climax after climax, all small but gathering strength with each cunnilingual assault. My fingers grabbed his hair, first pushing his mouth away from the source of almost unbelievable delight then pulling him hard against my mound again, desperate for it not to end.

I felt his hands slipping under my buttocks, raising my hips to give him easier access. My legs fell even wider apart as if trying to draw him bodily into my most private place. Again and again his tongue lashed my slit, from its base to my hooded clitoris.

I could hear the wet, sloppy sounds emanating from between my thighs as my juices flowed freely onto and into his mouth. Tony’s technique was sound; the ripples of climax quickly became waves and I heard myself moaning loudly. His tongue entered my vagina over and over again, fucking me while his fingers played with my cheeks and, to my surprise, with the cleft between.

As Tony’s chin massaged my perineum I felt the tip of one of his fingers working its way up into my anus. Drunk and on heat, it still shocked me; though I had read a lot about it, neither Tony nor Pete never played in those regions of my body so it took me by surprise.

“MmmmmMMM!!”

The single finger was working its way into my rectum as his tongue worked its way into my vagina. I was being invaded in two places at once. The feeling was amazing but disturbing at the same time. Something deep within me wasn’t ready for whatever Tony had in mind but I was too confused either to object or comply.

Fortunately I needed to do neither. Tony had clearly decided that enough foreplay was enough because the next thing I knew, both my vulva and anus had been abandoned and he was mounting me quickly and efficiently.

Tony’s tall, slim body rose over mine, casting a shadow over my eager, anxious body. His broad chest blocked out the light, his strong arms either side of my shoulders held me helpless beneath him as his hips descended and his erect cock brushed against my belly.

I lowered my hand between my thighs, grabbing his thick shaft, directing its smooth, rounded head towards my entrance. I felt my inner lips being parted and Tony’s head beginning to enter the dark cavern beyond.

But then he paused.

“You want me fuck you Mrs Barker?” he growled.

“Yes! Yes! YESSSS!” I wailed; this teasing was cruel.

“Tell me! Tell me how badly you want it!”

“Badly! Really badly! Oh Christ I need your cock!” I croaked.

This was no act; I really did crave this stubby cock inside me again.

“Where do you need it Mrs Barker? Tell me!”

“In my cunt! I need it in my cunt!”

“In your what?” he hissed.

“In my pussy! My shaved married pussy!”

Just saying those words sent a shiver of excitement through me. My legs opened instinctively wider and my hands flew to his well-toned shoulders.

Tony thrust his cock into my capacious vagina with a lustful force that shocked me, driving his short, stubby but wonderfully thick shaft past any and all resistance my slit and inner labia dared to offer.

“Christ!” I exclaimed as my entrance was stretched brutally wide, brutally quickly.

“You said we had to hurry,” he grunted, withdrawing an inch or two,

“I know but... Jesus!”

I half yelled in shock as he forced himself hard into me again, driving himself home until his pubic hair rasped against the place mine used to be. His shaft was thick, but its base was even thicker, stretching my over-sized entrance to its limit.

“Is that better?” he asked with a wicked leer, knowing what his cock must be doing to my body.

In an instant I remembered why I loved being fucked by this man. I felt tight again, young again, sexy again, as if my three kids hadn’t passed through that part of my body, destroying my youthful elasticity on their way.

“Stop congratulating yourself and fuck me!” I told him with an equally lustful smile.

And that’s what he did! There was no time for subtlety; no time for love or romance and yet even now it remains one of my most memorable fucks. There, in Tony’s friends’ borrowed room, surrounded by their open suitcases and half hung clothes, on my back on their rumpled bed with my dress crudely shoved high under my armpits, my lover fucked the living daylights out of me.

Dimly concerned about the neighbours in the rooms next door, I tried hard not to scream as the orgasms began, weakly at first then building rapidly. But it was no use. I bit my lower lip, then my fingers and finally the edge of the pillow but no amount of material could fully stifle the wild, feral sounds that escaped my mouth.

The breeding frenzy hit about half way though, opening my thighs impossibly wide, my hands on his buttocks pulling hard, finger nails digging into his flesh as if trying to draw my lover bodily into my womb. My head thrashed from side to side, my body convulsing under his, my vagina in spasm, clamping over and over again onto the thick shaft on which I was physically and emotionally impaled.

Tony had seen the beast within me before, but not as wild and uncontrolled as it was that night. Time and again I cursed him for not fucking me hard enough; begging him to go deeper and faster to take me to even greater heights of climax. As his thrusts grew wilder and more frantic, I heard my own voice calling out in wild crazy gasps, begging him to cum inside me; to fill my married cunt with his seed and make a baby in me.

God knows what was going through Tony’s mind as I thrashed beneath him, pinioned by his arms and impaled on his cock. I could hardly have seemed human; just a crazed creature crying out to be inseminated; impregnated. I bit his arm alongside my shoulders, I scratched his biceps and his chest; I raised my head from the sheets and sank my teeth into his lower neck like a vampire.

Then it all became too much for him; Tony’s climax arrived and he began to cum inside me. The wonderful, earth-mother sensation of a man’s erect penis throbbing inside me, ropes of pale sticky semen spurting from the tiny lips on its smooth rounded tip and smearing over my cervix brought a feeling of deep fulfilment that surpassed even the height of my orgasms.

The calm and serenity slowly began to return.

Tony’s cock pulsed in my vagina for a long time, its walls clenching on the invading shaft over and over as if milking it of every last drop of fluid; every last wriggling sperm – though of course there were none.

When the last pulse had faded and his cock began to soften, Tony lowered his heavy body onto mine, crushing my tiny boobs and pressing me into the mattress.

“Jesus Penny,” he gasped, panting loudly. “Where the Hell did that come from?”

I had no idea. Maybe it was New Year, maybe it was my near-exhibitionist dress; maybe it was my newly-shaven pussy; maybe it was a combination of all three of these. Whatever it was, I had reached a new level of wantonness that was frightening.

Certainly it had shocked the man who had delivered it.

I looked up into Tony’s baffled face. His eyes were soft and dreamy, partly through alcohol but mostly through lust. My own must look the same. I could see the ‘hickey’ beginning to form on his neck and wondered whether the same thing was appearing on mine too.

“Hold me,” I whispered. “Please.”

I felt the bed rock as he rolled off me, pulling his flaccid cock from my pink-framed slit then his arms wrapped tightly around.

“I love you, Penny,” he whispered over and over into my hair.

For a long time I let him hold me, feeling the strength of his body around mine, the reassurance of his love washing over me. I could feel tears beginning to run down my cheeks as I realised I how much I felt the same; how much I needed this man in my life.

“What time is it?” he eventually asked.

“Five to one,” I replied, looking at the clock on the bedside table and sighing. “Pete will be waiting.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Tony was upset. “I wish you could stay. I wish we could wake up together in the morning.”

It was what I wished too. Tired, tipsy and copiously inseminated, all I wanted to do was sleep in the arms of the man whose semen was even then being absorbed into my body.

But I couldn’t. However I felt, I had to keep my agreement with my husband. Sighing again, I lifted my legs over the side of the bed and rose to my feet.

“Your friends will be back soon anyway,” I said flatly.

“That’s true,” Tony reluctantly agreed. “I’d better get dressed too I suppose.”

As he began to pull on his shorts and trousers, I scoured the floor for my missing tights, panties and shoes. Having been unceremoniously shoved under my armpits throughout the whole half hour’s fucking my dress was very badly crumpled.

Finding my missing garments, I began to dress myself as best I could. Predictably, the tights were fit only for the bin. The knickers weren’t much better but with a dress as short as mine, I couldn’t go back into the hotel’s lobby with a bare bottom and vulva.

I pulled them as high as I could, tying a knot in the over-stretched elastic and saying a small prayer to the patron saint of adulterers.

“Can we meet soon?” Tony asked when we finally broke from our goodnight embrace.

“I’m not sure. Pete’s been good so far; I don’t want to push my luck.”

“Then don’t tell him,” Tony replied. “I’ll meet you anywhere at any time. Just use your phone and let me know. Pete need never know.”

Something inside me told me this was wrong; that a line was about to be crossed but I didn’t listen to that voice; the roar of lust from my body simply drowned it out.

“Give me a couple of days,” I said, kissing him once again. “I can’t go much longer than that without your cock!”

We kissed slowly and lingeringly, the distinctive taste of a man immediately after ejaculation filling my mouth.

“Wait five minutes before you leave. We can’t be seen together now,” I said softly.

“Goodnight Mrs Barker,” he said as I passed close in front of him. “I love you! And your new pussy!”

With a broad smile on my face I closed the door as quietly as I could and padded along the corridor towards the hotel’s bar.

My legs were bare and the cooling evening air was working its way under the hem of my far-too-short dress and wafting around my damp vulva; a vulva from which my own juices and Tony’s semen were beginning to ooze freely, my shredded knickers offering no resistance.

I could feel the cold dampness on my most private parts, bringing a chill to my inner thighs. Convinced that my near-naked vulva must be visible to anyone who passed by me, I held the hem of my dress as low as I could, trying hopelessly not to attract attention.

A hard core of drinkers was still gathered around a table in the bar as I turned the corner. I hesitated; two men were sitting on stools at the raised bar. They were both quite drunk; I saw that one of them was Pete who rose to meet me as I nervously approached.

He had already retrieved our coats and to my considerable relief, slipped mine around my shoulders before anyone in the bar could see the exposed base of my buttocks or the trickles of goo that were running down my inner thighs.

“How are you?” he smiled as I took his arm. We walked rather unsteadily to the hotel’s front door where our taxi was waiting. “Did it go… well?”

“It went very well,” I smiled, my eyes still dreamy from alcohol and orgasms. “Thank you so much, Pete.”

“It was my pleasure, Penn,” he smiled, holding my hand tightly and reassuringly. “And will be again when we get home.”

***

In fact Pete had to wait for his cuckold’s reward. When we arrived home in the small hours of the morning I was far too tired to enjoy sex and after spending so long in the bar waiting for me, Pete had drunk too much to put up much of a protest.

Whatever the reason, he didn’t press his post-date rights on me for which I was thankful. After Tony’s cock had done its impressive work on my vagina, I didn’t want any half-baked attempts by my husband to cause any more damage to my increasingly sore vulva.

We undressed and got into bed. Pete went to sleep straight away. As a result he didn’t get to see the new hairless me that night. This was a relief too; I didn’t want to have to explain my newly-shaved ‘pussy’ when I was tired and tipsy and besides, the rubbing of my knickers followed by the grinding of Tony’s wiry pubic hair against my newly-exposed and highly sensitive skin had brought me out in a rash.

I was pink, sore and prickly down there all the next day. No amount of moisturiser would help.

Fortunately when he did see my hairless vulva the following morning, Pete was over the moon with excitement. It seems he had wanted me to ‘go bare’ down there for years, decades even, but had been too afraid to mention it. He said he wished I’d let him watch me shave it.

I was baffled. My husband was happy enough to ask me to have sex with other men, but too embarrassed to tell me he would like me to shave off my pubic hair?

Men are very strange sometimes!

Before dropping into the arms of Morpheus, I ran over the events of the evening in my mind. I had escaped the potential disaster of my husband and lover being in the same room at the same time after copious amounts of alcohol. I had enjoyed an entirely unexpected and extremely pleasurable New Year fuck in someone else’s hotel room; passionate enough for the breeding frenzy to strike again.

In retrospect, my choice of dress had been a mistake; something that short was too risky for anything other than a hot date. On the other hand, it had certainly felt dangerous and exciting to spend an evening so close to making the world a gynaecologist. I still couldn’t be sure my most private parts hadn’t been visible to strangers as I passed them.

Maybe that was something I should explore in future.

***

I sat back in my chair and clicked on ‘save’, satisfied. The whole New Year’s Eve story had been recorded on disc in a single session, without being interrupted either by my husband, my children or by the phone.

To my surprise, the two week perspective had sharpened rather than diminished my memories of the evening’s events. Re-living the amazing fucking I had received from Tony had brought back vivid images that sent a thrill though me. As a result, I was feeling very warm and highly aroused.

The memories of my ‘walk of shame’ from the room in which I had just been comprehensively fucked to the bar where my husband was waiting were especially vivid. The coolness of fresh air around my wet, semi-exposed vulva and inner thighs had been a massive turn-on though at the time my principal emotion had been fear.

Perhaps the danger of exhibitionism was something to add to our lovemaking in future. A thrill passed through me at the idea. I would have to talk to Tony about that very soon.

The fact that I wanted to talk to Tony about this rather than my husband should have warned me that things had already started to go awry. But it didn’t; instead I could think only of the sexy fun that might result from bringing a new ‘kink’ into my new sex life and I longed to tell my lover all about it.

Thinking about Tony reminded me of my secret mobile phone. The ringer was permanently switched off so I had to dig it out of my handbag to see if he had sent me any messages while I had been hard at work. My heart missed a beat when the screen burst into life and I saw a short series of white text on the dark background.

Listening hard to make sure Pete wasn’t about to walk in on me, I typed in the pass code and the phone sprang into life.

For the next half hour Tony and I exchanged hardcore sex messages focussed mainly on his plans for me on our next date. I could barely believe the language he and I now used routinely with each other and the explicit way in which we described all we wanted to do to each other.

By the time my husband had woken, gone to the bathroom and descended the stairs, there was a large damp patch on my chair which I quickly covered with a pile of ironing.

When I heard Pete’s footsteps in the hallway and replaced the secret phone guiltily back in my handbag, I had no idea just how close my marriage was to come to ending or just how quickly that danger might come about.

And I had no idea just how extraordinary a man my husband truly was.