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Last Wives Club -- 5 -- Another Man

Our heroine is fucked by her best friend's husband.
"Mrs. Cardinal, he cheated on me again."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Mrs. White. I know it hurts, but it's not cheating now. He has your permission."

"But he wasn't careful. It was a coworker. I think he should be punished for that, but mostly I'm just hurting. Can I come up there and see you?"

"You mean like tonight?"

"Yeah, or not. Listen, if you're too busy..."

"Nope, just checking my calendar and I'm all yours tonight. I'll send a limo for you. That will remind him to stay in line. Besides, I don't want you driving in this emotional state. You're at home?"

"Yeah, at home and a little drunk."

"Start packing. I'll send a sitter to the school. I'll call you with her name when I know it."

"I'm sorry to be such a bother, Ky."

"Don't be. It will be good to see you."

An hour later, I was alone in the luxury of a big limo on the road between St. Louis and Chicago with an ETA of around 7 PM. I wasn't exactly alone. The driver was the same woman who picked me up the first time that Kyra had sent for me, the first time that my husband had cheated on me. She recognized me first I think, but I wasn't in very good shape either time that I met her. I asked if she would let me ride up front, but she cited insurance reasons for not doing that. She offered to leave the window between us down so we could talk, and I accepted.

Margo was happy to talk with me about her kids, and her cheating husband, and how she gets a surprising amount of calls to chauffeur distraught women. I thought that she probably had a tan card. Kyra told me that those sisters, and their husbands, are in less influential careers, and that many will never get a blue card, but their small businesses benefit from our networking activities.

Margo received several phone calls during the trip, and when we got into Chicago, she drove to a hotel. "Room fifteen-forty, Ma'am."

I hadn't yet had dinner, but I'd stopped drinking during the trip and was sober. Kyra welcomed me and told me that room service would soon deliver two filet mignons. We enjoyed a good meal and we each had a glass of wine, but Kyra cut me off at one. I knew that when she suggested we stop drinking, it was best for me to agree, because she only does that when it's important.

"It never stops hurting when your husband is with another woman, Cath. It will hurt, even if you've deliberately sent them together. The best you can do is make sure he stays within the agreement."

"I know Kyra, but my husband didn't even try to keep me from finding out. He picked someone who shoved it in my face."

What she said next probably threw off a long rant about the bitch who sent me the email bragging about how easy it was to get him in the sack.

"Cath, have you ever noticed that you never refer to him by name? You always call him your husband, and it's so common for you that I do it with him, too. He has a name. It's Daniel, or maybe Dan, or maybe even Danny. I'm wondering if you always call him your husband, because you only see him as that, or maybe you only see yourself as his wife."

"God, Kyra. I never noticed it, but I guess you're right. I don't know why I do that. I don't think my world revolves around him, if that's what you mean. Especially not since I've joined the Last Wives Club. But even though we've got this new agreement, I guess I'm still not comfortable with it, especially since I haven't been able to improve our sex life."

"Well, a good sex life is a two way street, but you can turn onto other streets you know. What you and I have is good, but maybe it doesn't have the impact that sex with another man would have. Are you still against that idea?"

"I have to admit that I've thought about it. I don't want to do a petty revenge fuck, but maybe it would help to put things in perspective. Maybe another man would give me something that's been missing, and no, I'm not talking about a bigger cock, just..."

"...a little strange. You don't need to explain. We can get you safe men. The husbands of other sisters. It helps us keep them in line. But I've got an idea. Would you even consider Benedict? His bedroom manner might be a little strong for you, but you had a good time when I imitated him. He has a thing for women with your body type and I kind of owe him a favor."

"That's not a good idea, Kyra, I wouldn't want to fuck a guy who knows me. I was thinking more along the lines of someone I would never meet again."

"Well that's the thing, he wouldn't need to know it was you. And it would only be one time. That's a condition I would put on it. We do this little anonymous thing, where I send him sisters who wear a burqa. They can give him head through a little mouth slit. He knows not to raise it up above your boobs, which is all he really cares about anyway."

"Hmmmm. That sounds kind of fun. That's two things that turned me on in the past, wearing the burqa and being called a whore. Are you sure that you're okay with this, Kyra?"

"Absolutely, Cath. Better you than some stranger. It helps you, it helps me, it helps the club. Are you up for doing it tonight?"

"Tonight? I don't know about that, Ky. That seems a little rushed, and I already feel like I've imposed on you enough."

"Nah, it's no problem on my end. Let me call and see if he's up for it. He will be, I'm sure. I can just hang here and catch up on some club business until you get back. I really could stand to do that. The limo driver is on call all night, and we'll get a room for her when you get back. I really think this might be good for you. Shall I call him?"

"If you're certain it's okay, yeah, why not?"

"One other condition, Cath. You have to tell me all about it when you get back."

"It's a deal."

She got out her regular cell phone and made the call. "Hey, asshole. You in the mood to settle up tonight? Yep. I've got a hot one for you. You'll like her tits. Yep, she's our age. Yep, those too. Yep, anonymous. You know the rules. Okay. Have fun. Bye bye, dickhead. Love you, too."

She hung up the phone and turned to me. "It's all set. You'll get there around nine. You'll probably be on your way back in less than an hour. You've got time now to hop in the shower. I've got a burqa that will be perfect for this. You've got heels to wear? Good."

And just like that, I was preparing to fuck my best friend's husband. Since I would be hiding my face, the only makeup that I needed was bright red harlot lipstick. It's not a color I would normally wear, but Kyra supplied it because, "Benedict likes his dick to be smeared with red when he sticks it in your pussy."

She helped me prepare and, once again, I found myself walking through a hotel, feeling naked but invisible. Margo was waiting for me and only raised an eyebrow when I walked up to the car totally covered in a blood red burqa. She drove me to a gated mansion. I knew that Kyra and Benedict had money, but this place came as a shock. I was met by a butler who looked casually dressed, as if his evening had been interrupted, but he was not unpleasant as he escorted me up a grand staircase and to a bedroom on the second floor.

Benedict was standing and looking expectantly toward the door as the butler showed me in and closed the door behind me. He's a handsome man and I noticed that he had only barely thickened from the athletic young stud who married Kyra fifteen years earlier. I walked toward him and stopped two paces away.

"Show me the goods whore. I want to see if that bitch really is settling up with me tonight."

His words made me angry, embarrassed, and a little frightened, but Kyra had assured me that he would be mostly bark and very little bite. I rolled up the long hem of my robe to just about my navel. Kyra had told me to stop there and make him order me to lift it higher.

"Hmmmm. Not shaved. That's good." I had stopped shaving my pubic hair and was keeping it trimmed in a sharp V. This had pleased Kyra as she helped me prepare.

"I like a little hair. Not like that werebitch I married. But a nicely trimmed patch. Now the rest."

I rolled and raised the hem all the way to my neck, exposing my breasts and the rest of my lower torso.

"You've had children."

I tried not to respond at this rude reference to the damage childbirth had done to my body.

"That's what I like to see, proof that you cunts are doing what you're intended for. It makes you all the more alluring."

It was a very strange compliment, but despite my anger and humiliation, it felt good to be complimented.

"She was right about one thing. Those tits are great. They look almost too good to be natural. Are they?"

I nodded, both pleased at the second compliment and increasingly angry.

"Ah, a silent one. That means I might know you. This should be interesting. I've never met a woman who would only use her piehole for what it's good for, sucking cock and moaning from a good fuck. I'll just have to see if you're telling the truth."

He stepped forward and grabbed my breasts, squeezing them until I whimpered from the pain. He stopped immediately.

"Good," he said. "I like to know the whore hasn't lost all sensitivity. Turn around and raise the back."

I complied, holding the back of the hem up around my shoulders.

"Decent ass. You keep in decent shape for a MILF who's fast approaching her granny years."

Granny! I was only 39. Now I was really angry, but I could tell from the fire in my crotch that I was also responding to the compliments in his insults. He stepped up behind me and I could tell that his robe was open, by the feel of warm bare cock pressing between my ass cheeks. I hadn't seen it yet, but it felt enormous. His hands grabbed my waist and pulled me against him. Then they slid up my belly to my breasts. I tensed, expecting him to squeeze again, but he gently fondled my nipples, bringing them to stiff points. I could not help but let a soft sigh escape my lips.

"Well whore, it's clear that you're not a pro, but it's time to see what you know. This cock isn't going to suck itself. On your knees."

I dropped my hem, turned around and dropped to my knees. There it was, the largest cock I had ever seen in person. There were bigger cocks in the world. I had seen enough porn to know that. I'm terrible with estimating sizes, but it was at least two inches longer than my husband's and much thicker. Maybe not quite as big as Kyra's dildo, but every bit as scary.

I unbuttoned the one button in the center of my veil and opened my mouth so I could engulf the head. I'd watched some porn videos to learn what the stars do and his cock responded to my attempts by getting quite hard. I made sure I smeared the lipstick as far down the shaft as I could get it, gagging in the attempt.

"Not bad, whore. You could use a few lessons from that cunt who sent you here, but for an amateur, you're impressive. Now suck my balls."

My lips wandered down the shaft, smearing more lipstick. His cock and balls were looking quite red by the time he said, "On the bed now bitch."

I got up on the edge of the bed on my knees, making sure that I didn't kneel on my hem. I felt him raise the back of the hem and throw it up on my back. Then his hands grabbed my ass cheeks and pried them apart. I could feel him looking at me in the most humiliating fashion.

"I'd give my left nut to be fucking that asshole. It looks like a virgin."

He had managed to hit on my big fear, that he would shove that huge cock where it would only cause me great pain.

"But I know the rules. Let's just hope that you're tighter than that canyon-cunt I have the misfortune of being married to."

I think that was when my anger peaked. How dare he say such degrading things about my best friend? It was bad enough that he was so abusive to women in general, but to insult his own wife so in front of someone else was deplorable. Then I remembered that Kyra had called him 'asshole' and 'dickhead' in my presence during their phone conversation, so I gathered that this was just their way, and that I should not judge what seemingly worked for them.

I couldn't imagine my husband saying anything so cruel about me, but then my husband had a very hard time making me wet. Benedict's approach was causing my nectar to run down my leg, a fact that he discovered as he suddenly wiped two rough fingers upward from my bush, across my clit and into my pussy.

"Just as I suspected. Tight and wet. I hope she keeps finding more wherever she found you."

He withdrew his fingers and I felt the head of his cock suddenly push into me. After only the briefest of pauses, while he grabbed my hips, he sharply pushed the whole thing in. I cried out in pain and quickly bit my lip as he stopped with his hips against my ass.

"Ah, you are tight. Not used to so much meat, eh? Not many amateurs are. But you are here to be fucked, aren't you?"

I nodded, fighting back tears of both pain and humiliation.

"Then rub your clitty. I want to feel that squeeze from that tight little fuckhole."

I don't know why masturbating in front of a man was so much more embarrassing than doing it in front of Kyra, but it was. If I hadn't concealed my identity, I don't think I could have done it. But I raised one hand up to my slit and started rubbing. I could feel my fingers brush against his cock. I could feel the boundary where my pussy and his cock were separated by only a thin layer of moisture that I secreted to provide us both with just the right amount of sensation. My clit was hard and full and when my finger touched it, I moaned as I felt my pussy squeeze his big cock.

"Yeah, that's it whore. Now fuck yourself on my prong, slut. Show yourself what you really are."

I started to rock forward and back, feeling the pain as I first made very very short strokes and then gradually increased them. The pain faded. The pleasure grew. Soon I was sliding full stroke, feeling the ridge of his engorged glans at the brink of withdrawal before I plunged back and re-impaled myself on the whole big salami. Faster and faster I moved, but my thighs started to burn from the effort and I became unable to hold the pace. No! I wanted this! I wanted to come!

Benedict said something nasty I think, but I didn't hear it. Suddenly, he grabbed my hips hard and shouted, "Stop!"

My breathing was ragged and my legs felt like jello and I was furiously rubbing my clit, striving for the orgasm that seemed just out of reach.

"I can tell you're hurting whore. You did better than I expected. Only a pro or my fuck-hungry wife could have done better. But now you're going to feel the power of the cock. I know about your little group, a bunch of conniving cunts who pretend that they run the world while they whore around and blackmail men. That's not power. This is power."

He held my hips in place and started ramming his cock into me, fast and hard. His hips slapped my ass again and again as my finger on my clit drove me toward the cliff. I didn't say a word, but I made noise.

"That's it. Sing that cuntsong, bitch. Ah, fuck I'm gonna come."

I started shuddering as I felt his cock jerk and fill me with his hot cum. My thighs were jerking uncontrollably from the exhaustion of my muscles, but the burning hot coal of my clit expanded through me in waves and reduced me to a quivering puddle of pure lust.

Benedict collapsed on top of me and I bore his weight down to the bed. I quivered as aftershocks of bliss slowly abated. Benedict pulled his cock from me and wiped our mess from it with the hem of my burqa. Lifting the soiled hem up high enough to see my ass, he said, "Now that's what I like to see, a freshly fucked pussy all stretched out and oozing my spunk."

He reached over to the nightstand and pressed a button, and I realized he was probably calling the butler. I quickly got off the bed and rearranged my dress, knowing that it would show dark red wet spots where his cum had soaked through. I buttoned the veil and turned to the door to wait for the butler.

Benedict sent a chill down my spine when he said, "I think I know who you are."

I really didn't want him to know, but maybe this was just an attempt to get me to say something revealing.

"I want you to know that you are a really good fuck. I appreciate what you did for me and for Kyra. No hard feelings?"

This was completely unexpected. What was it? Just post-coital tenderness? Or genuine concern for my perception of him? I turned my head toward him and nodded, hoping that was the response that would show my appreciation for the compliment, the gratitude, and the show of concern. It seemed to satisfy him.

"Please convey my gratitude to my wife for the use of her bed, Bonnie."

Bonnie? Whew! I nodded to let him know that I would deliver his message, hopeful that I really had escaped with my anonymity intact. The butler entered as I nodded goodnight and walked to the door on rubbery legs, not quite believing the intensity of the fuck that I was certain I would spend the next two days recovering from.

The butler escorted me to the limo, where Margo waited with the door open. I could feel cum oozing down my leg, so I asked if she had a tissue, or something so that I wouldn't stain her car seat. She gave me a clean white handkerchief and I pulled it inside the sleeve to wipe my thighs and press the cloth against my sensitive pussy lips before I sat. When we got back to the hotel, I pulled the cloth back out just as Margo opened the door. She obviously saw the red tinge on the cloth before I wadded it and tucked it into the pocket of the dress.

"Is that blood Mrs. White? Are you okay?"

"It's just harlot lipstick, Margo. It's a good thing I'm wearing this veil. My face must be a mess."

"The things we do," she said with a knowing smile.


When Kyra hugged me as I came into her room, I couldn't imagine what she must be feeling. I could taste the wine on her lips and see that she had at least one more glass after I left. I had just had sex with her husband, and she was about to hear the details. Not because I wanted to tell her. I would spare her any pain that might result from hearing them. But because I had promised that I would. She gave me a glass of wine, telling me that she had finished her work for the evening, and that she hoped that I would indulge her wishes for a while before I told my story. How could I deny her? She removed my dress and had me lie on the bed. "I want to clean your pussy with my tongue, Cath."

I could tell she was serious and even though I didn't understand, I could accept that she had her reasons, but I was curious. "May I ask why?"

"I've just shared my two favorite lovers with each other. This would complete the expression of love I feel for you both."

I didn't understand, but it clearly meant a lot to her. I spread my legs and she started licking, removing all the cum that she could find. She didn't try to arouse me, but that inevitably happened. She didn't continue though. After a few minutes, she crawled up beside me and asked me to tell her how the night went. I was feeling incredibly content when I started.

"Before I tell you what happened, I want to ask about something. How much does Benedict know about the club?"

"More than I would prefer, but far less than he thinks. I'll bet he had some pretty colorful words for us and especially me. Why?"

"He called us 'conniving cunts who pretend they run the world while they whore around and blackmail men'."

"Sex and blackmail have always been how women get our way, Cath. As for running the world, I prefer to think we're saving it. I've told you that moving money is my specialty. I've personally disbursed the funds for everything from scholarships for the children of tan cards to buying and renovating old buildings for battered women's shelters to campaign contributions. We're not blatant. We're subtle. Few men will ever believe we could accomplish even a small fraction of what we've done."

"Thanks, Kyra. That's what I needed to hear."

I proceeded to tell her about my time with Benedict. I massaged her clit as I relived the fantastic fuck. She wanted to hear everything, so I didn't hesitate to tell her of his kind words as I waited for the butler, and of his parting message.

"His exact words were, 'Please convey my gratitude to my wife for the use of her bed, Bonnie.'"

I knew right away that the words hurt her. A sob escaped her, so I stopped my attentions to her pussy and breasts.

"No, don't stop. He just payed me back for discovering that I had screwed his golf buddy in his precious fucking Bentley. Maybe someday we'll stop deliberately hurting each other."

I resumed my attention to her body, but I felt awful, like I should have known better. That is when I made a decision I'd been considering since the drive home.

"Kyra, this might be a bad time to ask this, but I need a favor."

"Shoot, Cath. For my best friend forever, I'll do what I can."

"Well, I'm hoping you can take my husba..., I'm hoping you can take Dan to bed for me."

"To bed? You want me to fuck your hus... Dan? Cath, are you sure you want that? You're not feeling like you owe me a favor are you?"

"That might be part of it, Kyra. You didn't have to share Benedict with me. And you did tell me that it hurts a bit. But I really want another opinion on Dan, and I trust you to tell me the truth about something like this. If he's just hopelessly inept in the sack, I want to know it. If you have sex with him and discover otherwise, maybe you'll be able to give me advice on what I can try next. Besides, I know you think he's handsome, and I know he'll probably cheat again anyway, so I think I would prefer it to be with you, instead of someone who doesn't have our best interests in mind."

"You realize that you're feeding my own words back to me?"

I smiled.

She smiled. "Okay, Cath, I'll set something up. And, um, thanks for trusting me with this."

I kissed her then, and gently caressed her to orgasm, and then we slept peacefully together. I was sure I would snore.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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