Well this was a little unexpected and out of the blue, I made someone a hot wife

[LeicesterBull75]

Sorry everyone I've been away for a while, was asked to be an exclusive +1 for a really nice local couple in Coventry, im back again on the scene looking for a new couple or hot wife for fun

 

here is a story from earlier on this year, It would appear I have made someone a hot wife.

 

Here I am a 40 yr old married lady, standing in front of the hotel mirror, I could feel the nervousness tightening inside my tummy. The conference that day was a long and tedious one, but the prospect of dinner with Martin, a mature attendee who had sat next to me, did inject a thrill into my day. I’d never met him before, but he was charming and handsome, then subtly flirtatious as the day progressed with uninspiring speeches.

 

I knew it was wrong and risky of me to accept his invitation to dinner. It just so happened that we were staying in the same hotel as each other. The way he spoke and looked at me made me feel attractive and desired and horny as hell, things I hadn’t felt in years. My husband had long stopped noticing me, despite my attempts to shorten the emotional gap that had grown between us.

 

His attention and desires lay elsewhere. Whether it was work or the endless stream of pornography he consumed in our home office, he rarely had time for me anymore. I accepted it and focussed on my own work and our children. But after the conference, thinking about dinner with Martin, who I had to keep reminding myself was a stranger, I wanted to feel alive, needed to know I wasn’t washed up at thirty-three.

 

I smoothed my hands over the casual, black, sleeveless, dress I’d packed for the trip, it’s hem grazing just above my knees. The fabric hugged my petite frame and accentuated the curves my husband no longer seemed interested in. I cupped my full breasts, feeling a flicker of pride at how youthful I still looked being in my 40`s. I then fussed my long brown hair and smeared a touch of lipstick.

 

With the tightening in my tummy turning to butterflies, I took a deep breath and told myself that it was just dinner. When I arrived at the restaurant, Martin was already seated. For a man in his early 50`s, maybe 10 years my senior, I thought he looked great. He wasn’t too tall or broad, and he had styled dark blonde hair that I liked on older men. But it was just dinner. He stood like a gentleman as I approached, his smile warm and friendly, relaxing me.

 

“Good evening, Rachel, you look absolutely beautiful,” he beamed, moving around the table to pull a chair out for me.

 

“Thank you, Martin, but you’re too kind,” I blushed ever so slightly, unable to remember the last time a man complimented my appearance. It gave me validation for agreeing to dinner with him.

 

“Just being honest,” he said, as I sat down.

 

Martin retook his seat opposite me, asking if I’d like to choose a bottle for us to share. As I browsed the wine list, his eyes lingered on me. Not lecherously or intrusive, just appreciatively, the way my husband used to, before married life, routine, and pornography killed the spark between us.

 

Over dinner, the wine flowed along with my own honesty. Martin said he was widowed after losing his wife to cancer and that his children were now all grown up and working away. I told him my children were still young and that my marriage wasn’t what it used to be. I absently told him about the loneliness I felt, but I didn’t blame my husband. It wasn’t all his fault, and I wasn’t going to criticise him to another man.

 

Martin listened thoughtfully, and without passing judgment or offering any unwanted advice, but he did give genuine sympathy. He was still a stranger in reality, but there was a confidence and an understanding about him that made me feel safe, desired and appreciated. After all, he’d been through it himself with his late wife.

 

After the meal, we went into the bar for another drink, where we joked about how boring the conference was, cruelly making fun of the speakers. I felt a real connection with Martin, and he felt it too. The looks we were giving each other. The smiles and body language between us. We were like a happy couple, not two people who’d met that day.

 

“Rachel,” he said, my heart now racing with excitement, it was the end of the night. “I have thoroughly enjoyed your company this evening, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to continue spending time with you, maybe another glass of wine upstairs…” he paused, letting his subtle offer sink in for a moment. “But that’s entirely up to you, of course.”

 

My heart raced like a school girl. I had already gone too far and betrayed my husband, but I had thoroughly enjoyed his company too. I gazed into his eyes, a million thoughts running through my mind. I knew what going upstairs with him meant, but I had never cheated on my husband before. I wasn’t even looking. Yet, something inside me was urging me to go with him. That familiar tingle downstairs.

 

“There’s no pressure, Rachel,” he said softly, putting his hand on my knee. “You’re a beautiful woman who is like me longing to be caressed. I’d love the opportunity to change that for you… for one night at least.”

 

His touch sent bolts of electricity up my spine, hardening my nipples against the fabric of my bra. “I’d like that,” I murmured.

 

“Very well,” he beamed, standing delighted with his arm out. “Shall we?”

 

We travelled through the hotel, saying very little to each other as the tension grew and grew. By the time we were standing outside the door to his room, I was shaking and feeling light headed. The soft carpet beneath my feet felt like concrete. What are you doing, Rachel? I asked myself inwardly. You’re married! You have children! What are you doing?

 

As I debated apologising to Martin and walking away, thanking him for just dinner, he opened the door and walked me inside, his hand on the small of my back. Despite everything I had to lose, I tightened up and told myself that I was now past the point of no return, because it damn well felt like it, I was super horny and wet.

 

“I can see you’re nervous,” he said, his voice kind and gentle as he stepped up to me and brushed my hair from my right shoulder. “We can just continue talking, if you like? Don’t put yourself under any pressure, Rachel. There’s no need to be nervous or afraid.”

 

“Thank you,” I murmured, meeting his gaze. His warm words wrapped around me like a blanket on a cold winter night.

 

“But God you’re beautiful,” he added, barely cupping the side of my face, his thumb smoothing my cheek, sending a slow, teasing tingle down my spine. “Do you want to be here? It’s ok if you don’t.”

 

“It’s not about what I want,” I replied softly. “It’s about what I should and shouldn’t be doing.”

 

He replied “No, Rachel, tonight is all about what you want… what you need… but it’s up to you.”

 

His hand dropped to my waist, encouraging me to come closer. The atmosphere was so intense, so electric, so forbidden. I could feel the heat of his touch through the fabric of my dress. I wanted and needed to push him away, but I also wanted and needed him to kiss me. I was so torn, it nearly paralysed me.

 

“Let me be the one to show you how amazing and beautiful you are,” he whispered, trying to charm his way into my panties. It was working. It started hours ago. I was already wet.

 

As he leaned in, I closed my eyes slowly and felt his lips brush against mine, truly igniting my desires. His hand moved to my lower back, urging me closer still. Instinctively, we came together like lovers and kissed intimately, his tongue teasing mine in a way that made my knees weak. Releasing a deep sigh, I wrapped my arms around his neck, surrendering myself to him, to another man.

 

“Don’t make me regret this,” I thought to myself, swept off my feet as he held my hips. I shivered at his words and mine, my body responding in ways I couldn’t control.

 

He led me toward the bed slowly, increasing the anticipation. I felt a pang of guilt as he kissed me again and unzipped my dress at the back. The sound of the small, hidden zipper amplified by the quiet in the room, but it was as if I was also being freed from something. The dress fell down my body, pooling at my feet. I had to catch my breath and stand firm in case I fell.

 

“Are you ok?,” he smiled, placing a finger under my chin, and raising my head. “You’re the sexiest woman I’ve seen in a very long time. “Tell me to stop at any point and I will.”

 

“I don’t want you to stop,” I sighed, kissing him before panic set in.

 

I was cheating on my husband for the first time in 30 years of marriage, and it felt exhilarating. Lust trickled into my black lace panties as my erect nipples rubbed against the matching fabric of my bra. I expected to feel his hands on my full breasts, but instead, I felt them cup my rounded ass cheeks. We sighed in unison as he carefully sat me down on the mattress.

 

As I sank into it, the pang of guilt was quickly overshadowed by the desire in Martin’s eyes. He knelt in front of me, his hands running over my thighs as he kissed me again, sighing his hunger to have me. I recoiled slightly, when he reached round my body and deftly unclasped my bra. God, was there anything this man wasn’t good at?

 

He removed my bra effortlessly, releasing my full D cup breasts. I kept my eyes closed, riding a wave of emotions. I was experiencing heightened arousal, but feeling vulnerable and @@@@@@@. His hands cupped my soft mounds of flesh, forcing me to emit a deep sigh. My skin was flushed, getting hotter by the second, as he gently caressed my body in exactly the way I had been longing for.

 

The smooth, natural flow was so erotic, it helped keep my nerves and anxiety in check, allowing adrenaline to course through my veins. I felt things that had been lying dormant within me for far too long. Now awakened, my vaginal juices warmed and moistened my panties like a river after a severe drought. My husband only made love to me once in 4 months. It wasn’t enough.

 

“You have a gorgeous pair,” Martin muttered, rolling my nipples with his thumbs, my flesh yielding in his hands.

 

He then kissed around my dark areoles, making my dark pink nipples ache in need. I tilted my head back, releasing a sigh up at the ceiling, and ran my fingers through his hair, pulling on the back of his head. He didn’t need words to understand the state I was in. He swirled a soft tongue around a tight teat and gave me pleasure.

 

“Oh…” I moaned, having forgotten what it felt like to have such care and attention applied to my sensitive nipples.

 

Martin suckled on both, back and forth, drawing them out until they were rock hard and throbbing, glistening with his saliva. Kneading my breasts, he gently lay me down flat on the bed, his fingertips suddenly tracing the curves of my body, trailing up and down my tummy, flirting with the waistband of my panties. I writhed slightly, the anticipation whipping me into a frenzy.

 

“Yes,” I gasped, when his fingers went inside the garment and began to pull the band of my knickers down.

 

I raised my bottom to assist him then arched my back, my breathing becoming ragged as he bared my private mound to his gaze. I heard him groan and murmur quietly when he saw my neatly trimmed nest of dark hair. Despite not getting any oral sex at home, my dignity and pride still made sure I didn’t let my garden become overgrown down there.

 

My heart pounded as I felt the delicate lace moving against my prickly skin, pulled down my legs in almost slow motion. It was the most intense yet pleasurable form of torture I could remember in recent memory. Martin knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t rush in, knowing we had the entire evening.

 

When he pulled my panties over my ankles and feet, he told me he couldn’t wait to taste me, but the taster session began with him planting soft kisses on the top of my foot and around my ankle. I was an emotional mess. He worked his way up to my knee then crossed over to the other leg, peppering me with soft, effective kisses. I needed to cum there and then.

 

By the time he was kissing inside my thighs and around my vulva, I was begging him to stop teasing me. I was pleading to a man who wasn’t my husband, a man much older than me, a man I’d only met twelve hours earlier, to lick the most intimate area of my body. Apart from little groans, here and there, Martin seemed to ignore my urgency, keeping things at his pace… utter control.

 

“Please…” I squirmed, arching my back begging him. “I need release… please…” I panted.

 

I could feel how wet I was without touching myself, and my labia couldn’t have gotten any more swollen and engorged. Even my breasts felt a little heavier. My body was primed, ready and waiting to go off like a rocket. All it needed was someone to light the fuse, a skilled tongue to end my suffering. The call was finally answered.

 

“Oh, fuck!” I cursed, gripping the duvet and arching my back violently. “That’s it! Yes!”

 

Martin ran his tongue up my opening and around my clit, growling as he tasted my essence. I panted repeatedly, trying to prevent my breathing from running away. Once again, he was in no rush. He took his time, demonstrating precision to the likes of which I’d never known. His tongue touched and tasted every inch of my vulva, before he spread my hood, exposing my bud.

 

“Yes!” I cried out. “Make me come!”

 

He took me right to the edge, getting my heart racing and my body jerking, before he slipped two rigid fingers inside me, rubbing the tips along the roof of my pussy. In a nano second, my eyes rolled into the back of my head, and that rocket went shooting off. I bucked out of control on the bed, filling the room with my adulterous cries of pleasure.

 

Even during my orgasm, Martin knew what to do. He removed his tongue from my clit and slowly pulled his fingers out, just before the sensitivity reached unbearable levels. It allowed me to collapse on the bed, my hands on my head, wondering what on earth had just happened. Of course I knew, but I was seeing stars and every nerve ending in my body was electrified.

 

As my orgasm subsided, I realised Martin was still fully clothed. He stood up with a triumphant smirk on his face, his eyes fixed on me, as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a good body for his age. I smiled back at his topless frame, my feet flat on the bed, knees up, legs parted, recovering my breathing.

 

The anticipation began to build once more, as I watched Martin kick off his shoes, remove his socks, and unbuckle his belt. I felt eighteen again, about to give up my virginity. No words were spoken in those couple of exciting minutes. The pang of guilt did resurface, but then he unzipped his fly and dropped his pants. My eyes immediately widened at his swollen crotch.

 

“Sit up, Rachel,” he instructed me kindly.

 

Thankfully, my blushes were not seen because my body was still burning from the wonderful orgasm he’d just inflicted upon me. As I sat up, he quickly pushed his boxers down his legs and stepped out of them, leaving him standing in front of me with average but modest erection. Martin was average downstairs but I just needed that cock deep inside me.

 

“Only if you’re comfortable doing it,” he said, stepping closer.

 

“I’m comfortable,” I giggled briefly, curling my fingers around his girth.

 

“That’s good to know,” he smirked, gathering my long brown locks and placing them to fall behind me.

 

I leaned forward, licking his swollen head as I stroked his cock. He exhaled long and slow, reaching for my breasts. It felt nice, him caressing me while I caressed him with my mouth. I took him in, swirling my tongue around, moving my head back and forth, my hand up and down, building a nice rhythm.

 

“Oh… that feels fantastic,” he sighed, massaging my breasts firmly.

 

I groaned in response and took him deeper, his spongey head touching my tonsils before I pulled back. I never was one for deep throating, and my oral skills were a little rusty, but he didn’t seem to mind. As I bobbed my head at his crotch, he continued to feel my breasts, while rocking his hips.

 

“Look up at me, Rachel,” he whispered, already gazing down at me. “That’s it. God, you’re beautiful… especially with those pretty lips of yours wrapped around me.”

 

“Thanks,” I beamed, taking a two-second break. “You can hold my head by my hair if you want,” I hinted.

 

“Yeah?” he chuckled lightly, grabbing my hair softly. He then pulled it tight, enough for me to feel him pulling at my roots.

 

“Mmm…” I hummed around his cock. It was so hard, yet smooth, and swollen. The veins pulsated through the shaft as I worked him.

 

“That’s it, Rachel, suck it,” he breathed, thrusting his hips a little faster, gradually increasing the pace until he was using my mouth. “Oh… I’d love to see you swallow, but I’m not a repeat performer, sadly,” he mocked himself, stepping back in case he came. “Stand up. I want to kiss you again.”

 

The guilt was gone now. I was going the full hog with Martin, behind my husband's back. It was never really in doubt after our first kiss. As our tongues entwined, our naked bodies pressed up against each other, I held his cock and stroked him, my sex dripping wet to have him slide it inside me. I knew it was wrong, but I also knew it was going to be great sex, possibly the best I’d ever had.

 

Caught up in an inescapable web of lust, desire and treachery, the thought of protective sex didn’t even occur to me until Martin lay me down on the bed again, his bare cock hovering close to my mound, sniffing her out, ready for penetration.

 

“Do you have a condom?” I asked, fearing I had just poured freezing cold water over the situation. But I had to ask. One, I wasn’t on the pill, and two, it’s every woman’s right to ask a man to wear one.

 

“I was just thinking the same thing. No, I wasn’t expecting to find myself in this position,” he said, apologetically. “Do you?”

 

Of course I didn’t, I replied inwardly. “Just make sure you pull out in time,” I told him.

 

“Are you sure?” he checked, looking excited.

 

“Yes, I’m sure.” I pulled him on top of me. “I need you inside me,” I purred.

 

“Oh, you’re amazing,” he sighed, nestling his cock between my swollen lips.

 

“Just be gentle,” I worried for a moment. But it felt good, very good. “It’s been a while.”

 

“Just let me know if it feels uncomfortable,” he whispered, the head of his cock gently pressing into my entrance.

 

“Ohhhh…” I moaned, wrapping my arms around him, my teeth grazing his shoulder.

 

“You’re tight,” he breathed. “Just relax.”

 

I closed my eyes and held him tightly, concentrating on relaxing to let him in. I was wet enough, but I had not had anything for a while. He pulled back then pushed forward a few times, gradually working his cock inside me. This was truly it… the moment of ultimate betrayal. It was impossible to see it as my lowest point when I was feeling at my highest, especially when he completely stretched and filled me.

 

“Oh, yes, slowly, go slowly,” I gasped, wrapping my legs around him. The sensations coursing through my body helped me forget about everything else.

 

“God, you're so sexy,” he groaned, moving his hips steadily, stroking his cock in and out until I adjusted to him.

 

A few intensely enjoyable moments later, my pussy was squelching around him, ready to be used. Then an orgasm crept up on me. I squeezed my arms, legs, and inner walls, and bit into his shoulder. He hissed and thrust harder, making me climax quicker than ever. Convulsing beneath him, Martin sped up his thrusts and began to fuck me.

 

“Oh yes! Oh yes! I kept repeating, not wanting to let him go.

 

He grunted and groaned, raised my legs onto his shoulders in a sudden movement, pounding down on top off me. His balls slapping against my buttocks, his cock reaching places I had never felt a cock touch before. God, I had never felt so full and fucked in my life. It was so raw and deep, I couldn’t stop screaming and gasping.

 

I climaxed again, digging my nails into his flesh as my breasts bounced out of control. I couldn’t believe this kind of sex was out there. I was hooked. Then Martin ordered me onto all fours. He thrust into me from behind and grabbed my hair, pulling it harder this time, as he slapped my cheeks.

 

I can’t imagine what the people in the next room must have thought. I was exhausted, but more than happy to let him fuck me as hard as he needed to. I had totally forgotten that his cock was bare inside me, until he groaned a warning. But I was right on the edge of another orgasm, my breasts swinging beneath me, my nipples grazing the duvet.

 

I begged him to hold off, but he said he couldn’t. He was losing control of himself. I wasn’t ready for him to pull out. I needed that orgasm, so I rocked back hard and reached between my legs to rub my clit. Martin warned me again, but I growled at him to keep fucking me. I was almost there.

 

“I’m gonna cum, Rachel!” he warned me for the third and final time.

 

“Keep going!” I urged him. “I’m almost there. Yes! Yes! I’m coming!” I screamed.

 

As I cried out in ecstasy, my mind blurry, he lunged into me, grunting and twitching. I felt him throbbing against my contracting muscles. We were climaxing together, his cock filling my pussy and unprotected womb with his sperm. Once it started, there was no stopping it, until we collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty heap, completely satisfied.

 

“Damn, that felt amazing, coming deep inside you,” he breathed heavily.

 

I said nothing as he climbed off and lay beside me. His load really did go deep. It took a few moments for it to start trickling out. But I refused to let it spoil the experience. I just made a mental note to call into a pharmacy before heading home.

 

I felt so relaxed, I slipped my naked body under the duvet. Martin took me in his arms, a big smile on his face. We didn’t really speak. We just lay there in silence, drifting off to sleep, thankfully not having any time to think about what I’d done.

 

I woke the following morning to find I had rolled onto my side, and Martin cuddling into my back, softly kissing the nape of my neck, his hand gently caressing my breasts. It was a great way to wake up, but my mind quickly started racing with thoughts of my adultery, of the consequences that awaited me.

 

Before I could tell him that I had to go, knowing my husband would call me on his way to work, after dropping the kids to school, Martin raised my leg and nuzzled into my neck, whispering he had to have me again. I didn’t have time for sex, but then I felt his hard cock rubbing along my opening.

 

We didn’t speak, he simply held my leg up and entered me slowly as we lay on our sides. I soon forgot my worries. He gently fucked me, stroking his entire length in and out of my body, building a morning orgasm. I buried my face in a pillow, muffling my moans as I trembled in ecstasy once more.

 

“I’m gonna miss the feeling of you coming on my cock,” he whispered in my ear, his voice hoarse. But as much as I wanted him to keep fucking me. I needed him to hurry up and finish.

 

Then, the first stage of my nightmare began. The moment I dreaded when I woke up. My phone began to ring and vibrate in my purse. I knew it was my husband. Martin sped up, pounding my pussy as my phone rang and rang. I squinted my eyes closed, feeling pleasure and guilt mixed together.

 

My phone eventually stopped, only to immediately start ringing again. Martin squeezed a breast and asked if it was my husband calling me. I nodded and said it would unlikely be anyone else. He growled, seemingly aroused at the thought, then he ejaculated inside me for the second and last time.

 

Talk about guilt karma punishing me. What were the chances of my husband calling me as another man filled me with his sperm? I was now feeling guilty. Martin would disagree. He owned me in that moment, throbbing and twitching until he’d finished.

 

“Sorry,” I apologised, rushing out of bed and putting my underwear on, as his cum ran down my leg. “I really enjoyed it, but now I have to go.”

 

“I understand. You were amazing, Rachel. Try not to let this eat you up. Nobody will ever find out, and I will never forget it, either,” he smiled at me as I put my dress on.

 

“Can you help me with the zip, please?” I rushed over to him. Then my damn phone rang for a third time.

 

Once Martin had zipped my dress up, I grabbed my purse and shoes, saying goodbye in the worst possible way. I arrived at my room and called my husband back, having completed my first walk of shame at the age of 43, as a married mother.

 

I sat on the bed and spoke to my husband, the sheets cold and immaculately prepared by housekeeping from the previous day. I lied about sleeping in and having been in the shower when he called. When in fact, I was a dishevelled mess, wearing last night's clothes, smelling of another man, another man who might have bred me.

 

I did get to a pharmacy that morning, where I shamefully removed my wedding ring before going inside to buy the emergency contraception pill. I felt judged, but nobody was judging me more than myself. I swore to never do it again, to cheat on my husband, but working away now brought excitement.

 

Cheating on my husband in hotels would soon become a new way of life for me. I would eventually join a swingers website, use a different name, keep myself as anonymous as possible, and meet men for no strings attached sex around the country. But it's all thanks to the amazing kind and gentle guy Martin, and that's why I've shared this with you all and him, Rachel