It really is such a pain in the arse having a WordPress account when it comes to spam. I have so far been told that my posts have really helped with people’s homework, that a group of volunteers setting up a community centre would like my advice, and that someone’s brother recommended the site to them.
How extremely tedious.
You’ll remember in my last post I mentioned a friend of mine who has done me lots of favours over the years, always joking about how many “noshes” I owe him. Well, he came and helped me out with a little bit of dodgy wall a few weeks ago (I do NOT like plastering. I’m quite happy doing all of the DIY around here thanks to the two game-addicted men, but I am simply not good at plastering) and indeed I did give him a rather splendid “nosh”, based on the fact that he arrived rather quickly and quite loudly.
He’d finished fixing my wall and I had made him coffee and done a bit of business work for him as he is also a client, and we had a little kiss and cuddle before he decided he wanted to feel my shaven cunt. I always get a little embarrassed about that, as I am just not one of those instant-wet girls and I tend to need a little warming up, which can sometimes take a while simply because of the worry about not moistening up, but I let him have a little feel nonetheless and insisted he returned the favour. He was very hard and very excited so I made him get it out and gave it a little suck, before he promptly pulled away and said he’d have to put it away or he’d cum. Well, how very silly, because surely, although half the pleasure is the journey, the ultimate destination is even better! I think he was worried that I might find it distasteful, and I’d admit that strange cum is never my favourite thing to find in my hair after a night out, but with a good friend, well…
So he got it back out and it was lovely and hard and I sucked it right there in the glass room, in full view of anyone who might have popped their head out of their loft conversion opposite. I, being very polite, swallowed and said it was yummy, and actually I am rather partial to cum so all was well. He left with a huge smile on his face and I felt confident that he’d be back to finish the wall off soon. 
The one problem is that despite all of my previous rationalisations and the fact that it’s been on the cards for five years, I feel terribly, terribly bad about the fact that he has a girlfriend and I don’t think I’ll be able to do it again.
What a shame, but it was certainly an experience and one which I’ve had fun confiding in people. After all, I’ve been saying for years that I need an odd-job man who’ll accept payment in sexual favours. And actually, I really do mean it.
In fact, I got myself into a bit of lovely trouble with my rather fabulous and flirty botox doctor when I mentioned I couldn’t afford any filler and had needed to save for ages just for botox, but guess how I pay my builder. He was very interested in how I pay my builder, so I told him I pay him in blowjobs. When I went back a couple of weeks later for my top-up, well, let’s just say I got thoroughly kissed (very nicely I might add) and free filler.
I’m going for lunch with him next week which I’m tentatively excited about as he’s very intelligent and flirty and educated and naughty, and perhaps as a byproduct of this adventure I may look about four years old in the very near future. Just look out for a ridiculously young looking woman walking around London with an insanely frozen face.
One of the main problems with being me is getting through the winter. It’s almost as though my soul goes into shut-down. I feel less sexy, less inclined to go out and have fun, and less inclined to wear nice underwear. I tend to spend my days in so many layers that I wouldn’t have a clue what colour my knickers were from one day to the next, from grabbing them in a frozen hurry from the drawer and pulling them on back to front just so I can get six pairs of tights on over the top of them.
This doesn’t mean that life doesn’t carry on as usual in the Carmen household. Both F and SH are having minor crises at the moment, one because of impending middle age and the other because of a career dilemma. I’m sure that having two husbands sounds incredibly indulgent and greedy to most, but in fact the reality of it is very different. At the moment there are two men who need a lot of emotional support and a lot of encouragement, a lot of letters written and a lot of pep talks.
FH tends to become a little withdrawn and negative about himself at times like this, whereas SH becomes irritable and is quick to temper, snapping about the silliest little things and then apologising the next day when he realises how dramatic he’s been.
My little ray of light at the moment, however, is that I’m about to embark on a rather fun affair. A friend of mine who has done me many favours over the last few years always jokes about how I owe him loads of blowjobs, so just recently I declared that we really must organise something. I think he nearly fell off his chair, as in the past I’ve always said it could never happen. The reason for this is that he has a girlfriend, and a rule I have always followed is that I never mess with other women’s men (unless they’re there!). Although my men are allowed to do pretty much whatever they want, my strict rule on it is complete disclosure at all times. I don’t want to find out that they’ve slept with someone a week after the event. I want to know immediately, all of the sordid details, and the idea of another woman blissfully unaware of her partner’s infidelity makes me feel very sad for her. Having said that, I know that many affairs have saved marriages, and I know many people who carry on illicit affairs and happy marriages at the same time. It’s just not something I’ve ever felt would suit me, personally. This friend, however, is a little bit naughty already with other women, and it’s been so many years in the brewing that I’ve told him I will make an exception to this rule, although it does make me feel… a little nervous!
As soon as something happens I will let you know. :-)
I simply have to tell you about the absolutely wonderful sex I had with SH the other night. The children had been ill all week with colds and temperatures and ear infections and aching arms (the children regularly state that they have a sore leg/arm/foot/eyebrow – I think it may be because they like the taste of Calpol, funny little creatures). SH and I had not had a quality evening together for ages as there was always a boiling hot little body or two snuffling in the bed with us.
The other night, however, they actually went to bed and stayed there, and when we checked on them they were fast asleep. SH announced that he was going to give me a massage (yay!) and then play with my arse (okay!). SH doesn’t really do spontaneous sex. He likes to tell me well in advance when he’s feeling frisky, I suppose so that if I’m really not in the mood he’ll know beforehand. He’s such a quirky boy, in many ways.
This evening, however, was different. He pretty much grabbed me, turned me over and fucked me from behind, announcing halfway through that he was going to fuck my arse too and that he was going to thank both of my holes afterwards. Lo and behold he fucked me from behind, swapping between the two holes every few minutes, and a while later he withdrew and came all over my arse and cunt while I twisted onto my elbow saying “thank you, grrr, thank you!”, with sweat running down his forehead.
Such a beautiful sight I simply cannot remember.
After my lovely night with A, there was another incident which simply isn’t worth writing about. It involved a very attractive and very pleasant black man, who I spent a fairly pleasant evening with, but I kind of wished I wasn’t there despite how nice he was. There just wasn’t the connection. We did have sex, but I shan’t bore you with it.
However, after that came Max. I had met Max several years before at a modelling shoot we had both worked at, and although I’d chatted to him at the time and thought him attractive and nice, it was only a very short time after I’d got together with FH, and at that time there was simply no one else in the world who was of any interest to me. :-)
Fast forward five years and there I was at a rather odd social occasion that we were both attending via mutual acquaintances, and I was absolutely blown away by how absurdly beautiful he was. I think I said something along the lines of having not previously… wow… realised quite how… um… er… yes… hi(!)… gorgeous you are, while his eyes just smouldered. I felt, quite obviously, like a total twat at that point.
We spent the rest of the evening slyly glancing at each other and grinning, butterflies and eagles and herons and owls fluttering in my stomach, and at the end of the evening I grabbed him and asked if he was on Facebook. Why yes, he was, but he also had a phone number, which he wrote down on a piece of paper and pressed into my palm with both of his hands, telling me to call him.
Fast forward a few more days. I had done my hair, bought new boots, chosen the most cool outfit I could find, and was waiting outside Covent Garden tube station to meet him. And there he was, this divine man, all 6ft 4 of him, blond wavy hair and a hat (odd, because I’d never been with a blond before, and had never really been that attracted to one), and he immediately took my little hand in his gargantuan grasp and took me out for one of the best nights I’ve ever had in my life.
First we went to a pub which had live music, and within five minutes he turned to me and said, “Kiss me.” And that was the beginning of my very own, very special hotwife and cuckold experience, because I knew from that moment that I adored Max. Within about 20 minutes of that we were in another bar, in a ladies cubicle in the bathroom, pulling each other’s clothes off and generally being incredibly wanton and naughty.
That night we went all around London. One of my favourite things about Max was how well he knew the city, the city that I have grown up in for my entire life, and yet only ever navigate via coloured tube lines and never by foot unless I’m in one of the comfortable suburbs which I know so well. Max knew London inside out, and the places I went to that night I’ll never forget. Wine bars in caves and live music bars that I had no idea existed. And all the while his huge hand held mine, and I had never felt so tiny before, or so excited about being alive in years.
A few hours later, many glasses of wine and much talking about his sad history of rehab and depression and we were wondering around London looking for a hotel. He turned to me and said, “I love you.” I squeezed his hand and said, “I love you, too.”
We found a hotel but didn’t have very much sex. We were both so drunk and had done so many outrageous half naked things in bar toilets that there didn’t really feel a need. I stroked his chest and gazed at him, and I’d never before felt a little like I wished I didn’t have a husband and children. Max was so beautiful, yet I would have happily never had sex with him. I would have happily looked at him for months, kissed him for years and whispered into his ear for millennia.
I went home the next day a little bit changed forever.
There’s a little more to this story which I will tell another time, and it gets a great deal dirtier, but that one night is really all you need to know. I sang to Max. I wrote a song for him. And when the time came I went back to my life knowing that it was the very best place in the world, and have never had anything but wonderful memories of Beautiful Max.
Max, I miss you always, and I know that you’re just fine.
A couple of weeks after SH’s first swinging experience with Legs and Mediocre Husband, we went back to the club again with FH. Shortly after we arrived I did a poledance and afterwards went over to join FH who was talking to a lovely looking couple. He’d been telling them all about our polyandrous lifestyle and we all sat and chatted for a while until SH also came over and joined us. The female counterpart of the couple was absolutely lovely, really bubbly and friendly and gorgeous (very curvy bum, lovely expressive face, tiny pert boobs), and her boyfriend (let’s call him Hollywood Superhero, as he looked like the lead role in a superhero movie) was just the sweetest thing. They’d only recently started swinging and although they’d done a little bit of playing, she hadn’t done very much with other girls before.
Needless to say, I was very up for the idea, as although I’m inherently straight were I to have a “type” she would be it, and the idea of playing with a girl that I actually found really attractive and lovely was… great! So we went into a cushioned area together and kissed and held each other, and had a whispered giggly conversation about how neither of us had shaved since the day before and how we were both a bit embarrassed of being a bit stubbly. It felt very intimate and friendly and I told her that if I were to become a lesbian I would want her to be my girlfriend!
She really was so lovely and we spent quite a bit of time just kissing and holding each other really close, and then she whispered to me that she’d never seen Hollywood Superhero with another girl and had always been nervous about the idea, but that if I liked the idea she might like us all to play together – the two of us, Hollywood Superhero and SH. Well, he was so very pretty and also very lovely, so I had absolutely no objection to the idea until…
I saw his insanely massive penis.
A regular problem I have with SH is the size of his cock. It occasionally hurts it’s that big, and Hollywood Superhero had a good centimetre in length on SH and a bit of extra width too. When SH saw it I could tell he felt very intimidated, as he is used to having the largest cock on any given street, but I whispered to him that actually there wasn’t a great deal of difference between the two, and that Hollywood Superhero’s cock only looked twice the size of his because, well, you can’t really see the size of your own cock by looking down. He didn’t quite believe me (it’s true though!), but obviously felt a bit better about the whole thing and gave my Beautiful Girlfriend head while Hollywood Superhero fucked me.
It was really quite painful, but being a brave girl I took him ball deep and made all of the appropriate noises (actually, I think they were more “ouch” noises than excited noises, but it’s hard to tell, isn’t it?). I knew there was no way I was going to be able to cum with him – it took me quite a while to be able to accommodate SH’s cock, let alone this new mammoth thing, rubbered up and fucking me like it was going out of fashion.
I think at one point I was giving my Beautiful Girlfriend head while SH took her from behind, while she sucked Hollywood Superhero’s cock and FH had sneaked in and was taking me from behind – you can see how it all gets a little difficult to accurately tell, but I do remember this: The most charming and lovely thing about Hollywood Superhero was that as we continued playing, swapping who was doing what to who, he always kept looking over at my Beautiful Girlfriend with a look of absolute love in his eyes. I really appreciated that intimacy between them and the whole experience felt so friendly and non-pressured. I really did have a lovely time, although as per usual I didn’t actually manage to have an orgasm!
After that we spent a lot of the evening with them just chatting and by the end of the night it really did feel as though we’d made some new friends. We even swapped numbers with them (and have since swapped sexy pictures with them via text – naughty!).
—
The absolute breakthrough event of the night, however, came when my two husbands and I arrived home. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I have very separate sex lives with both of them and the two never merge, but that night… well!
We had arrived home and FH had popped upstairs to the bathroom. SH and I were in the kitchen diner and were chatting about the events of the evening when suddenly he grabbed me, pulled my underwear down, bent me over a conveniently placed piece of furniture and started fucking me. (I should point out that the children were staying at Grandma’s house, so there was no danger of them coming downstairs!) At this point FH arrived back downstairs and came and watched, and for the first time ever SH seemed very comfortable about the idea and gave a jolly good show. It was literally minutes before he came (all the excitement of the lovely couple had really got him in the mood, although none of us had actually cum that evening), and he sat down happily spent and announced to FH that he wanted him to take me from behind too. Wow, my usually very shy SH – what a naughty boy!
FH was incredibly excited about this idea, as often after I’ve had sex with SH he tries to sneak in some activity while I’m still dripping with SH’s cum (both FH and I love it when it’s dripping wet and smooth and warm), but we’ve never had sex quite that soon after SH and I have. So FH duly did as he was told and took me from behind, while SH did a very naughty narrative of the whole thing, encouraging him to fuck me harder and asking me how FH’s cock felt. (It felt fabulous.) Again, literally minutes later FH came, and I suddenly felt a bit embarrassed and prim, as SH had never seen FH and I together before in over two years of us all living together.
Afterwards the reality of having just been gang banged by my two husbands finally sank in and it was only at that point that I felt unbelievably, leg quiveringly horny. The very thought of the fact that I had that evening had sex with not only my two husbands but also Hollywood Superhero and my Beautiful Girlfriend made me feel like a very naughty girl, but I was so very tired that before I could do anything about it I fell asleep in FH’s arms.
The following morning, however, FH had got up to go and prepare for the return of the children, and SH climbed into bed with me, kissing me and caressing me, and we had absolutely wonderful morning sex, him above me watching his cock as it slid easily into me and looking into my eyes with the most naughty, lusty look I’ve ever seen on his face. That time I most certainly did have an orgasm!
A while later the children arrived home and we carried on with our usual morning activities, making them toast, doing homework with them, putting washing on, tidying the kitchen, but I think anyone having seen me that Sunday would have been hard-pressed to miss the huge smile I carried around for most of the day. :-)
On more than one occasion SH will have just flipped me over and started taking me doggy style, when suddenly Big Dog’s face will pop up right next to us with a quizzical look of, “Mate, you ain’t doing it right.”
*sigh*
After my experiences with the Pretty Young Man it was almost as though a beast had been awakened in FH and he seemed to spend quite a lot of time wanting to hear about other men wanting me, me doing things with other men or me wanting to do things with other men. It was all very liberating and disconcerting in equal measure! :-) I wish I could remember the exact order in which everything else happened, but although I remember the names and faces of everyone I’ve ever slept with, the order is a little muddled in my mind.
I do remember, though, that the gentleman after the Pretty Young Man was called A. FH had been so excited about my stories of the Pretty Young Man that he decided he wanted to actually witness me being fucked by someone else. He tentatively mentioned this to me a few times before I agreed that yes, that would actually be quite fun, and before I’d had a chance to change my mind he had posted an ad for a “gentleman” to take his wife for drinks. The provisos were that he must be a good conversationalist, not bald (don’t ask me why!!), be prepared for it to go no further if I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea, but also prepared to fuck me in front of FH if I liked him.
It was literally later that evening that I went and met A in my local (I’m not sure what the bar staff must have thought of me by this point, given how regularly I appeared in there anyway), and actually, he was very charming, very attractive and very nervous. I very much warmed to him and believed him when he said that replying to the ad had been a spur of the moment thing because he wanted to gain more experience of spending time with women, as he’d never had a relationship before and had only had a few liaisons in the past. He had nothing to gain by lying and was so sweet and almost childlike that it was impossible not to genuinely like him. He was three years younger than I at that point.
I remember feeling incredibly nervous about the whole thing myself and had far too much wine, and built up enough courage to invite him back home to meet FH. I kissed him on the way back and he was an incredibly awkward kisser, which generally would be quite a turn-off for me, but on this occasion it just added to his charm. He genuinely didn’t seem to have a clue what he was doing.
I took him home and introduced him to FH and it was all very civilised and polite, until I, fortified by wine, went upstairs to the loo and came back down stark naked. I’m not sure which of us was more nervous, me or A, but he quickly got into the whole thing and within ten minutes he had a completely silent orgasm and collapsed on the floor in a blissful heap. I wish I could remember all the details of the sex, but so many years have passed and the only thing I can vividly recall is him taking me doggy style on the living room floor, and that he had a very long, very slender and very pleasing cock. I didn’t orgasm, but I didn’t really get a chance to as he arrived fairly quickly! Next was my favourite bit of the entire night (you’ll notice a theme in my posts along these lines!), when I snuggled up to him, kissed his neck and ran my hands across his chest. It was the first time in the evening when he had seemed genuinely happy – it was the first time I saw him truly smile, a huge beaming grin – and I was so grateful for that brief moment of intimacy. (I don’t remember what happened after that. Perhaps we had tea. I think we may have.)
When he went home he forgot his umbrella, and although we said we would meet again so that he could pick it up, by the time it was convenient a few weeks later he’d met a real girlfriend and we decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. I was very pleased for him, and hoped that perhaps his night with me had played a small part in him being confident enough to be able to start that relationship in the first place. (I remembered him mentioning a girl that he was too nervous to talk to, and it turned out to be her.) It’s a very nice thought.
One of the most endearing and equally infuriating things about SH is how regularly he loses everything. I am regularly shaken awake at 5am when he can’t find his keys or when he’s wondering where his work shirt is. ”Darling, you took it off and left it on the patio last night. I have no idea why, but that’s where you took it off.” ”Oh… yes, yes I did.”
Recently in a rare (very, very rare) fit of domesticity he decided to make dinner. This consisted of some frozen chips, a frozen pie and some frozen peas (cooked, luckily, although stranger things have happened). Half way through his preparatory work he turned to me and said: “Darling, where’s the oven glove?” ”I have no idea darling,” I replied. Some annoyed huffing and puffing followed as he sought out a tea towel to take the pie from the oven, and with some supervision he managed to dish up a rather splendid and fully cooked meal.
The children like ketchup with almost everything they eat, so I went to the fridge to get it, and upon opening it found a rather cold oven glove sitting on the middle shelf.
If I told you the strange items I have found in the fridge before today you probably wouldn’t believe me – the sugar bowl, keys, pairs of sunglasses (really). This is what I have to contend with people. :-)
Around a week after our first encounter, the Pretty Young Man and I booked into a cheap and rather trashy hotel – the kind you can pay for by the hour. It really was quite a drab and seedy place, and the guy working there was very clearly checking me out and thinking I was hooking.
We really didn’t talk about much at all, but swigged from a bottle of wine we’d brought in with us while kissing and playing around. It was all a bit frantic with pants being thrown around, knickers twisted around my ankles as he licked my clit, 69ing with a leg hanging off the bed and a knee against the wall, and all that other uncomfortable stuff that can happen when you’re in a hurry. The playing around really didn’t last long, as, I think I already mentioned, the Pretty Young Man was very enthusiastic and desperate to get started. I think we covered just about every position ever invented, and just as he’d cum and take the rubber off, he’d be ready to go again. (I remember that he made really lovely cum noises.) We must have fucked five or six times, with him occasionally asking if he could take the rubber off because “he’d be good”. (Does that mean that he wouldn’t have cum in me? To this day I’m not entirely sure, but no bloody way was I letting this naughty boy bareback me!)
I do wish I could remember all of the details more clearly and feel that this story is a bit of a let-down, but it’s still an important part of how I ended up with two husbands. After he was truly and genuinely spent we lay in bed and cuddled a while, which was actually my favourite part of the whole evening – despite all of his enthusiasm and showing off of exciting moves and positions I hadn’t actually managed to orgasm, probably because it just felt so… unintimate (okay, that word isn’t in the dictionary but quite frankly I think it should be), but had guiltily faked several because he was just so excited about the whole thing. I couldn’t bear to crush his little ego by telling him that it just wasn’t quite doing it for me, even though I was having a fantastic time.
As we lay in bed he turned to me and said, “Babe, would you do something for me?” “Possibly! Try me!” I replied. ”Will you piss on me?”
Oh dear lord, that’s certainly something I’d never felt an urge to do! I really didn’t much feel like a wee so had a few more swigs of wine but to no avail – I simply didn’t need to go, and I suspect that my mind had automatically blocked any kind of urge I may have had because, well, just no! 
Soon after we left the hotel and he dropped me home. Needless to say I was absolutely exhausted, but having not yet cum that evening I simply knew that I would have to have sex with FH. He was hard from the instant I got home and wanted all the details of the night, so I told him all about it while we had sex. He said he could feel that I’d had a bigger cock in me than his, and it really excited him. One earth-shattering orgasm later and I felt like a very naughty and very satisfied girl.
—
I only saw the Pretty Young Man once more after that evening when we went for a drink together and chatted and laughed. It was the most intimate I’d actually felt with him and I had a lovely evening. I guess because we’d already done the deed (many, many times) the urgency had gone and had been replaced by a mutual appreciation and “friendliness” that hadn’t been there before. That night I drank beer, and after we’d had a couple of pints we went back to my house where he met FH for the first time. The Pretty Young Man seemed extremely nervous despite knowing our situation, and I really and genuinely warmed to him as I saw him politely talking to FH. FH, of course, was as cool as a cucumber and very welcoming and friendly. We made him a cup of tea and chatted a while about goodness knows what (it was a long time ago, after all!), and then I took the Pretty Young Man up to my bathroom, squatted over him, and laughed and laughed and laughed for almost five minutes until I finally managed to pee on him. He played with himself the whole time and when I finally managed to “go” he came so hard that he got a little cum on his own chin.
After that he showered, had another cup of tea with us and then went home. We very nearly met again many, many times, but with the distractions of life it just never happened. I’m still in regular contact with him to this day and consider him to be a very nice acquaintance of mine, and will always have very lovely memories of him. He was, after all, my “first”, and the very beginning of the whole thing.
After my experiences with the Pretty Young Man there were several other “cuckold and hotwife” experiences, some rather fabulous, some not quite so fabulous, but I’ll save those for another time. :-)