Slut or Saint

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Slut or Saint
Slut or Saint

Slut or Saint

My hot-shot wife just got came back from a week’s training with her company. Actually I think it was more of a reward for her performance than a real training program. It’s not the first time she’s been away like this, and when she’s away I often wonder who she’s with, and what goes on in the evenings and, more especially, when the lights have gone out. I know how bad men can be and, believe me, my wife is hot and more than a little horny.

But I trust her and she trusts me and she comes back and our relationship is stronger than ever because we’ve missed each other and there’s nothing like a little bit of absence to remind me just how wonderful she is.

So the trip she’s just been on should have been no different from any other, and maybe it wasn’t…

But before I launch into the details I should tell you that I’ve not met many of my wife’s colleagues. Occasionally she mentions someone but generally I don’t recall much about them.

Except one time. She came home from work and practically jumped on top of me as soon as she came in the door. I was absorbed in something on the computer, but I quickly shifted gears.

“I need to fuck,” she said as she tore off my shirt. She wasted no time in pulling her blouse over her head and pushed my hands away as I fumbled to help her undo her bra.

“Are you hard?” she asked as she undid my belt and trousers. Her state of arousal and the sight of her smooth round breasts and pert nipples were certainly turning me on.

“I’m getting there,” I answered softly.

“I need it now,” she said as she pulled my trousers and Calvin Klein’s down around my ankles, exposing my semi-hard cock.

She stood up again, took my dick in her right-hand and, putting her left-hand behind my neck, she pulled my mouth toward hers. We dry-kissed for a second or two before her hot tongue penetrated my mouth and her hand ran up and down my prick. I was enjoying the double sensation when she unexpectedly disengaged.

“Your taste good up there,” she said as she dropped to the floor, “but what about down here?” I looked down and saw her red-painted finger nails take my now almost-hard member in her open mouth.

“Baby, that feels fantastic,” I said as she licked my head and then ran her lips firmly up and down my shaft, while playing with the base with her hands.

But that didn’t last long either. As soon as she was satisfied with the firmness of my cock, she pushed me down on the couch and was on top of me, lifting her skirt so she could straddle me. Parting her red lace panties, she swallowed my cock in her very wet pussy.

She paused for long enough to catch my questioning eyes and then started fucking. She was riding me hard; up and down; taking me all the way inside her on every downward thrust. I put my hands on her hips and, subconsciously tried to slow her. She was fucking me like she was possessed. It almost seemed like it wasn’t me she was fucking, that I was just a cock there for her own private pleasure, that I was providing a tool for her secret fantasy.

My wife looked at my face and caught my eye. As if remembering that she was with me, she thrust her tits toward my face, almost taunting me. I moved my hands from her hips to clasp them but she took my hands away and put them back on her hips. Clearly this wasn’t going to be my playtime.

The sudden explosion of energy, the assault on my senses which had turned a quiet afternoon into a sexually charged evening, was really turning me on. But there was no catching up with my wife. She was moaning more loudly and her breathes were coming faster. She was staring into a distant place, gazing into a well of about-to-be-fulfilled desire. A few more almost frantic thrusts down on my cock, a loud long moan and she came hard, drenching the her pants and my shaft in an explosion of cum.

She paused for a few seconds to compose her still shaking body. I could feel her hot juices cooling on my soaked balls. The spell was fading and she was returning to the room. Her eyes shifted from the wall to my face and she smiled. She lifted herself off my now rock hard cock, put her arms round my neck, rubbed her cheek against mine and whispered, “thank you. I needed that.”

We held for a couple of minutes and then she pulled away, took her drenched panties off, turned to face the end of the sofa, went down on all fours, and pulled her skirt up around her waist. “Now it’s your turn,” she said as she spread her lips with her painted fingers.

She and I have a lot of great sex so her behavior wasn’t completely unusual and I might have just notched it up as another evening of fantastic sex with my horny wife, except that, later on, as we were eating dinner, and I asked about her day, she started telling me about this guy who was visiting from head office. In her words, “super confident, smart and very sexy”.

His name is David Abraham and he was in the office for the week, helping my wife with a new product launch. I never met him, but I could be forgiven for thinking that, for the rest of the week, my wife was unusually eager to leave for the office, and she certainly came back horny as hell several nights.

That was about six months ago. Last week while she was packing to go away, she left her program itinerary on the dining table. I was glancing over it thinking how smart my wife must be to be on the program, when I recognized the name at the top of the list of attendees – David Abraham. I could feel my adrenaline rising and, as my mind started working overtime on the potential implications, I was hit by a powerful tonic of emotions – a jumbled mix of panic, fear and raging jealousy.

And she hadn’t even boarded the plane. Slut or Saint

Before she did, I asked casually who else was going on the course. “I think there’s about 25 or 30 of us. No one you know”, came the answer. True, very true. But in some strange way I do know David. Wasn’t he the guy my wife was fucking when she jumped me on the sofa six months ago?

My wife and I texted regularly and spoke a couple of times during the week, and she seemed as warm, and loving as ever. But that didn’t stop the waves of panic, fear and jealousy coming back most nights as I lay in bed. I would tell myself that there was nothing to worry about; that I could trust her. But at the same time, another voice kept telling me, “don’t be naive, remember your wife’s burning desire to fuck hard and furiously the week that David was in her office. Do you think she’s going to leave him alone now that they’re away together. Let’s face it, she’s a horny woman who likes to get fucked very regularly and, this time, you’re not around for her to vent her frustrations on”.

And with each day that passed, my imagination played on me more. I started to picture David – tall, broad shouldered, good looking, full of confidence and passion, chatting to my wife, taking her ‘off campus’ for a drink, inviting her back to his room, kissing her, putting her hand on the bulge in his trousers. And does she, for a moment, hesitate? Perhaps. But only so briefly that my imagination skipped over and moved on. To the inevitable unbuttoning and unzipping. The skin-on-skin, the hand round his shaft, the tongue on her clit, the smell of my wife’s sex in his nostrils, his confident smile as she licks his purple head, the gentle thrusting as his cock sinks in, the moans as he goes deeper and harder, the explosive orgasms as they come together, the lying back as they both savor the pleasure of illicit sex.

I thought about confronting her – over the phone or when she got back. But confronting her with what? I had nothing but the flimsiest circumstantial evidence. And an imagination on steroids, running wild, taking over.

And in any case, I credit my wife with being a pretty good liar if her back’s up against the wall.

And as the nights passed a strange thing happened – the raging jealousy subsided a little and I found that, instead of lying in bed at 1am wondering whether to call my wife’s mobile to see if she answered, I was holding my own hard cock, and pleasuring myself to the images of my wife having her pussy eaten and fucked by David. As he he pulls her hair, pounds her pussy, fills her with two big sacs of cum and makes her explode in a frenzy of pleasure, my own cock erupts in an explosion of desire and jealousy.

By the time my wife came home, I was in control of the situation. Conveniently, she landed in the evening so I was able to pick her up from the airport. She seemed pleased that I met her and very pleased to see me. We held each other close and kissed. She talked excitedly about the course, what she’d learned, what the place was like, and she even mentioned that it had been good to catch up with David again – no awkwardness, no sign of any guilt.

And so I could have left it. Slut or Saint

But my imagination was not finished with me, nor I with it. My wife need to be punished, for being too sexy, too horny and, just perhaps, a little unfaithful. As I explained what needed to happen she acquiesced. Perhaps she knew she deserved to be punished, perhaps she was just going along with another of my fantasies. I shall never know. By the time I parked the car I was already semi-hard.

“Strip down to your undies,” I ordered as I closed the front door behind her softly.

While she unzipped her thigh length boots, I kicked off my trainers, pulled off my socks, and unbuttoned my belt and trousers. I had deliberately not worn any pants so by now my erect cock was already well above the parapet of my open jeans.

I turned back to my wife and lifted her blouse from around her waist, up her warm, sexy back, over her head and away. I wanted to put my hands on her shoulders and pull her warm body into mine, but that would be for later. First I needed to reclaim something.

She was unzipping her jeans, and, as she did so I grasped the belt loops and started easing them down her butt and thighs. Again I wanted to touch, to feel her warmth, even to taste her pussy. But I held off preferring to stick to my plan and contenting myself with the feint aroma of her sex as she stepped out of the trousers I was holding around her ankles.

As she stood with her back to me, I slipped the choke collar, which I had placed on the hall table, around her neck. It tightened as a pulled her toward our bedroom. She didn’t protest the discomfort of the collar and instead followed me guiltily.

I pulled her towards the bed. “On all fours, arse in the air,” I told her.

As she acquiesced I put my hand firmly on the nape of her neck and pushed her face down into the pillow, bringing the twin orbs of her bum into full view.

I paused for a moment to adjust the lighting in the room and admire the scene. My wife was wearing a G-string so I had an unobstructed view of the curves of her buttocks as they met at the small of her back and formed a crack which I followed to the point where her G-string covered her back hole. What a beautiful work of art I thought, as I gazed at her bum. How unfortunate that she is a whore.

I picked up the leash again and tightened it around my wife’s neck and used my other hand to pull down my own jeans, allowing my hand to caress my cock as I did so. I had visualized this scene again and again over the last few days, and it was turning me on as much in reality as when I imagined it. With my wife’s bum in the air and my throbbing cock released, I was in a frenzy wanting to rip off her pants and stick my shaft in her pussy, in the pussy that David had been fucking so beautifully all week.

But I wasn’t done yet. Slut or Saint

“Did he fuck you the first night or did you just flirt and play?” My question was greeted with silence. “I bet you fucked. I bet you couldn’t wait to feel his cock inside you.”

I picked up the leather paddle from the bedside table and brought it down hard on my wife’s right buttock. She winced.

“That was for Sunday” I said. I admired my handiwork as the paddle left a rosy-pink mark on her pale butt cheek.

“So when did you start on Monday? Were you in bed with him on Monday morning? Was your pussy so sore from the night before that you needed to suck and swallow?”

I passed the taught leash and the paddle between hands and brought the paddle down on her left cheeks as I jerked on the leash. My wife winced again and her pale left buttock exploded in a blotch of pink. “For Monday,” I said.

“Did you let him enjoy your pussy smell in his nostrils and the taste of your juices in his mouth?” I asked. “Did he suck your pussy good?”

More silence.

Tuesday, I decided, would be for the left cheek too, and, releasing the leash, I grabbed my wife’s hair and pulled hard as I brought the paddle down again. My cock was now close to my wife’s pussy, grazing her G-string.

Very roughly, I used my free hand to pull her G-string down. It was damp and soiled and as I smelt the aroma of her sex I was certain this wasn’t the first time this week that she had leaked in her panties as she waited to be penetrated.

Another wave of jealousy rushed through me. My throbbing head was now touching my wife’s pussy lips. A slight downward move and I could be inside her; inside my pussy, the pussy that belongs to me.

But I wasn’t done.

“Tuesday” I said as I administered another slap to her left cheek. “I bet you sucked his cock real good before you let him fuck you.”

I released my wife’s hair to take the paddle in my right-hand. Her head stayed up.

“Do you have anything so say,” I asked.

“I’m sorry” she murmured. I pushed her head into the pillow again and brought the paddle down hard, perhaps a little too hard, on her right cheek. She gasped.

“So you enjoyed handling his big cock did you? Stoking it. Licking it. Sucking it. Riding it hard, very hard the way you did with me when David was here six months ago.”

I brought the paddle down on the right cheek again. I gathered from my wife’s gasp followed by a whimper that it was having its effect.

“So on Thursday what did you get up to?” I asked. “Whose bedroom were you in that night?”

I passed the paddle back to my left hand and picked up the leash again, drawing my wife’s neck up again until I was able to see the outline of her face over her head.

I bent over and whispered in her ear, “Your pussy belongs to me. Why did you let another man have it?”

I released the leash and pushed her head into the pillow again.

“You are a horny, dirty, slut, aren’t you?”, I asked rhetorically. “A slut who couldn’t control her insatiable desire for cock.”

Another thwack as I came down on her left cheek.

“That,” I said, “was for Thursday.”

“So what happened on Friday?” I asked. “Your final night of pleasure together.”

“Did he take you out somewhere nice? Did he tell you how much he likes you, how he wants to see you again?”

I pulled her neck up again and lowered my mouth to her ear, “Answer me!”

“We just fucked,” she murmured.

Once again I released the leash and pushed my wife’s head into the pillow, this time holding it there so that the pillow smothered her mouth.

“So you fucked again. Wow, you were a busy slut weren’t you? I bet you fucked evening, night and morning. I bet you fucked lying, standing sitting, on bed, couch and table, in mouth, cunt and arse. Did you let him fuck your arse? Did you?”

I released her head to allow her to answer.

“Yes. He made me cum real good as he fucked my bum.”

I was burning with rage. The paddle came down again and my wife whimpered. I could feel the heat from my wife’s burning buttocks. I had never hit her this hard before, and wondered, for a moment, if I had overdone things.

I dropped the paddle, slipped my hand between her legs and slapped the insides of her thighs. Instinctively she moved her knees apart and lowered her pussy. I thrust my cock forward. Her pussy was soaked. In a second my head and shaft were completely engulfed.

I paused to enjoy the pleasure of having my cock inside my wife for the first time in a week. My mind raced over the last seven days. Her hole was not the tight pussy of a faithful wife. My cock was in the well-used cunt of a slut.

I started to work her hole. In and out, in and out. Thrusting deep. I was determined to penetrate her more deeply with every thrust, intending to cause pain to her pussy to match the throbbing she must be feeling in her bum. My wife gasped. whether with pain or pleasure I didn’t care. I was reclaiming her pussy, my pussy.

As I fucked my imagination re-ran all of the scenes I had been through over the last week. They were turning me on, just the way they had done as I was lying in bed masturbating.

I dug my hands into my wife’s hot, red buttocks and thrust deeper. Deeper. She was back with me. It was all mine, the wetness, the warmth, the deep. I was pounding furiously, jealously, uncontrollably. I could see my wife’s foaming white cum juices building up around the base of my cock. The animal in me was in complete control as I imagined David’s cock pounding my wife just the way I was now, his cock covered in my wife’s juices. I fucked as deep and hard as I could.

I was in some sort of trance, half real half, fantasy. Amidst the clamor of my emotions, I could hear my wife gasping, moaning. “Is this how David fucked you,” I blurted. My wife’s moans grew louder at the mention of his name. I was pounding uncontrollably. My wife’s body was tightening. She moaned more loudly still. I knew she was cumming. My balls tightened and I unleashed one spurt, then another, and another. With each spurt I reclaimed a bit more of my wife’s pussy, my pussy. She was back, she was mine.

Her moaning turned to a whimper. I paused to catch my own breathe and admire my wife’s beautiful body. I basked in the sense of relief, relief from so much sexual and emotional tension. I ran the back of my hand down my wife’s gorgeous back and kissed the nape of her neck. Her buttocks were still glowing red; I stroked them gently with the back of my hand and then held them in the palms of my hands, wishing that my palms could take some of the heat out of them. I gently pulled my cock out of her pussy. We both collapsed on the pillows. I rolled my wife onto her side and spooned her.

“What’s got into you,” she said. “You’ve never fucked me quite like that before. Different…but very good.”

“You should go away more often,” I said teasingly.

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