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From: a425couple <a425couple@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.penthouse.sex.stories.cuckold
Subject: WW in Seattle #4A, True Story
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W Wife in Seattle Story 4A (Wife)
WW - WICKED WIFE - WANDERING WIFE - WIFE WATCHING
January 1998
(current note - I am not sure I have formatting
figured out yet. This looks fine now, I will
post and see.
Also from how I view it, our 'real posts' to this
newsgroup are in the majority.
However I now see that although the old spams
stay on this newsgroup 3 weeks or so, our
posts go away after 5 to 7 days. How do you
all see it? On with the story.)
Since I described myself in the story WW in Seattle #1, that took place
in June 1997, I have been working out regularly. My husband is very
vocal about complimenting my appearance, and even I agree my improved
body looks fine. At work, and out with the general public, I get plenty
of second looks and quite a fair number of complements. I am in my
early 30's, above average in height, and my most recent measurments are
38 1/2", 27", 37". Depending on the make, I wear a 34C or 34D bra, and
size 10 or 12 dress. My red hair drapes to the bottom of my shoulder
blades.
I got dressed on a dark Saturday night in January. I put on my
Victoria's Secret black satin merrywidow, thong panties and black
nylons, with a black suede (yeah, black leather) slipdress over them. I
also wore black suede high heel pumps, dangly pearl earrings, and a
three strand pearl choker. I applied black eyeliner, red lipstick, and
a little blush, then I combed out my wavy hair. I sprayed a little Red
Door perfume on my pulse points, donned my fake leopard fur coat, and I
was ready to go to downtown Seattle, after one last look in the big
mirror.
As I approached The fancy hotel lounge I became very nervous. I'm not
the type to hang out in bars! Probably the only reason I went on was
because I felt I had committed to be there to two gentlemen, and I don't
like to let people down.
I resolved to do it and walked up to the entrance to stand in line
behind two (obviously gay) men discussing their cigars. One of them
gave me a piercing head to toe look, and made a jealous comment about my
looks to his companion. With the hostess' permission, I went in and sat
at the only seat at the bar that was still empty.
On my right was a Generation Xer, who seemed out of place with his wool
plaid jacket on in this pretentious lounge. On my left was a average
looking gentleman in his late 40s with a nice brown sports jacket and
tie.
A cool five person band played and sang wonderful Sinatra style jazz
music.
After about 40 minutes the gentleman on my left said, "Excuse me, could
I have the pleasure of a dance with you?" I smiled and said yes, and we
walked out to the small crowded dance floor.
After the song ended, he walked me back to our seats, then left me
undisturbed. At the start of the next dance from a table far behind, a
handsome man in his late 30s wearing a nice grey sweater walked up and
asked me to dance. I got up and walked with him to the dance floor,
where he took me in his arms and, while dancing, started telling me how
beautiful he thought I was. At the end of the song, he asked if we
could dance for another song, but I told him while I'd like to dance
with him again later, I needed a little rest, so he took me back to my
seat.
The band took an intermission that seemed to last too long, and the
young man on my right shared a few more pleasant comments with me and
the pretty female bartender, then left.
Only minutes later a distinguished and obviously successful gentleman in
his 60's approached and sat down on my right. He was in the mood for
conversation, and started telling me little details about the band. He
told me how happy he was to be sitting with the prettiest lady in the
place and asked me, "Are you in the entertainment industry?" I told him
I was not, but he seemed not to be convinced. He asked the bartender to
bring me another drink, and he asked me to dance. Out on the dance
floor, he obviously enjoyed dancing very much, spinning me around and
dipping me, and singing along with the band. When the song was over, he
kept right on dancing while holding me tight. After another song, he
finally let me get back to my chocolate martini. I was really amused.
It was very flattering to be so obviously desired by all these fine
gentlemen.
A song or two later, the man on my left asked for another dance. He
held me close, and told me how sexy he thought I looked, and asked if I
enjoyed the attentions of three different men in such nice surroundings.
I smiled at him and told him it was all very gratifying. He smiled
back and pulled me closer.
When I returned to the bar, the man in the grey sweater returned and
took me back to the dance floor. It was so romantic dancing with a
handsome gentleman who was perfectly behaved, but obviously very taken
with me. He held my right hand in his and pressed it against his heart,
and told me he had heard the sound of hearts breaking as I entered the
room. He told me how lovely my hair and eyes were and how pretty my
smile was. He held me tight, and I could feel a bulge extending far
down his thigh. As he continued to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, I
became aroused and felt moist.
After two songs, I (somewhat reluctantly) told him it was time for me to
leave, so he walked me back to my seat, helped me on with my coat, and
kissed my hand.
I walked out into the lobby. There, sitting on a couch, was my husband.
He got up and approached me with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his
face. As we walked out to the car, he said he could tell just by
looking at me that I had had a good time.
As soon as we got home, we kissed. A shiver went through me as he moved
to one of my weaknesses, nibbling and licking my ear. I felt like
melting when he moved on to nibble and scrape his teeth on my shoulders.
Then he kissed the upper areas of my breasts and moved on to suck on my
nipples. I was moaning at this point and reaching for his swelling
cock. He entered me, and whispered in my ear about how wet I was. He
asked me who had turned me on as he ground his hard cock into my sopping
pussy. I told him about the cock I had felt against my thigh while
dancing and how excited it had made me. It felt so good to have my hot
wet pussy filled as I took his repeated thrusts. I was so glad I've
trained him to have patience and delay his climaxes until he has
completed his obligation of "ladies first."
It felt so good, but I wanted more. I urged him to move down, kiss and
suck my breasts, then kiss my flat tummy, then kiss my clit. He then
set about licking my pussy until I started to come. My moans filled the
room and the spasms wracked my body for several minutes, then somewhat
subsided. When he thought I was done, he entered me again, only to find
that I wasn't finished. I continued to writhe in a continuing orgasm
underneath him, bringing him to an explosive orgasm.
I was so turned on and felt so romantic. Early the next morning, I
roused him up and urged him to satisfy me (and him) again. He came for
the second time in 6 hours, surprisingly good for his being past 50
years (an age where longevity has usually replaced frequency).
Every night that week I wanted, and got, satisfaction. On Sunday he
entered me and fingered me to orgasm. Several nights I had him enter me
while I used a vibrator or his fingers. Each time, it was more than
just a simple orgasm. It was hard to tell if it was multiple orgasms,
or a very long-lasting (several minutes at a time) one like a high
plateau that had multiple peaks.
He came four nights straight, missed one, then started a new streak
again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to admit that I was wearing him out.
No doubt, he found the idea of a 'relief pitcher' tempting, but he was
nervous about admitting that, especially considering there was one so
readily (and willingly) available.