Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 20: Phone

Despite my misgivings I had agreed to meet her in town in a couple of hours' time. My mind and tummy were in turmoil as I walked up the shop's main aisle towards the woman who even then was probably my closest friend.

"He's not making it difficult?" I asked, meaning the impending divorce.

"Most things are owned fifty-fifty," she replied. "And the kids are grown up so there'll be no custody issues to fall out over. It should be okay."

I was sure no divorce was ever that simple or amicable but it wasn't my place to say so then.

"How is he?" I asked, reluctant even to think about my affair and the terrible way it had ended.

"He's okay," Julie replied. "He's seeing yet another woman now. I'm pretty sure she's married but it's not my problem anymore."

We exchanged meaningful glances. When he had seduced me, Tony's penchant for married women had come too close to home for his wife to ignore.

"Have you found a new man?" I asked, keen to move the subject away from myself.

"No-one serious," Julie smiled then leaned closer and whispered. "I've been doing online dating!"

She grinned, blushing a little.

"Jules!" I gasped.

She blushed.

"Is it as wild as I've read?" I asked eagerly.

"No it isn't," she replied bitterly.

"Why?"

She took a sip of her drink before replying.

"Well, I suppose it depends what you're looking for," she began. "If you just want sex then there's no shortage of men out there who are happy to provide it. Well, something approximating to sex."

From the look on her face I wondered whether she had taken advantage of this considerably before becoming disillusioned. I also wondered whether her year with twenty-nine year old Personal Trainer Darren had spoiled her for other, older men. I had to admit that my own night with him had been unforgettable.

My hands fell automatically to my lower belly where his child was now growing.

"But then you find that a lot of them are married," Julie continued. "Or that there's a good reason why they're single at this stage of their lives."

"What sort of reason?" I asked, becoming interested.

"Well personal hygiene for one!"

Julie's face was a picture; she most definitely had taken advantage. I smiled inwardly.

"Then there's personality, being too boring; being too mean; being useless in bed. The list is endless."

"And yet you're sticking with it?" I laughed.

"A girl has needs," she grinned in return.

If anyone knew about a girl's needs in that direction, it was me but of course I said nothing to give my secret away. I wasn't completely sure if Julie knew about my evening with Darren; I was reasonably sure she didn't know about my encounter with Will but she certainly knew about my affair with her soon-to-be-ex-husband Tony.

"How are things with Pete?" she asked casually.

A bolt of anger and unease flashed through me but I steeled myself not to let it show.

"We're good," I told her truthfully.

"He's not holding any grudges about you and Tony?"

'Not as much as I'm holding them about him and you', I thought but did not say out loud.

"We're trying to look to the future rather than the past," I told her instead.

"I'm pleased," she smiled.

Something within me mistrusted that smile. Was it possible that my friend hoped Pete and I would split up over my affair with her husband? Having spent one full night in bed with him, was Julie keen to repeat the performance? Maybe even have Pete fill the vacant place alongside her in bed full time?

Or was I just a jealous woman judging people by my own low standards?

"Well give him my love," Julie said.

The look on her face was unintended but told me very clearly that she would dearly love to spend more time with my husband -- at all possible, without me being present. The surge of jealousy that washed over me was worryingly strong.

"I will," I smiled.

Both the smile and the promise were lies. I did not want this insatiable blonde anywhere near my husband. Having tasted forbidden fruit and satisfied her for one full passion-filled night, who knows how Pete might react if given the opportunity again?

And as for the thought of Julie on all fours with Pete's cock in her rectum; that was almost more than I could bear.

She looked at her watch and stood up hurriedly. "Oh my God the time! I've got to go."

We kissed each other on the cheek.

"See you soon!"

***

Does pregnancy always lead to insecurity and paranoia? My last pregnancies were so long ago that I couldn't remember but there was no doubting the way I was beginning to feel. What I do know is that the thought of losing Pete became more and more distressing and more and more prominent in my thoughts.

One night even my dreams were haunted by images of Julie, naked on her hands and knees with her blonde hair loose and hanging across her pale shoulders. Her head was thrown back and her eyes tightly closed as behind her, over and over again my handsome husband passionately thrust an erect cock that had magically become huge and intimidating over and over again into her rectum.

Though I knew it was only a dream, try as I might I could not drag my eyes away from her stretched, distorted sphincter, the thick pole of meat that penetrated it or the expression on her pretty face somewhere between agony and ecstasy as the depths of her bowels were plumbed by my husband's cock.

Pete's face in the dream was wild with arousal, his tummy miraculously turned into a six-pack, his shoulders as muscular and strong as Will's. My husband's powerful hips were slamming into Julie's rounded buttocks with a loud, slapping sound unlike any I had heard before while she wailed and moaned in the throes of a monstrous anal orgasm.

And when he finally came, his semen spurting deep into her bowels, his face twisted and contorted into something close to Tony's expression when he had cum in me, the look on Julie's face as she stared straight into my watching eyes was one of pure, unadulterated triumph.

I woke in a sweat in the small hours, my breath coming in short gasps to find my husband blissfully asleep next to me and my upper thighs sticky.

***

As a result, the next few days were a strange mix of fear, concern and romance.

The concern I suffered was about our daughter. Izzy's continued poor judgement when it came to boys and her probably rocky future kept me awake at night. I told myself she was young and robust but as her mother this did not ease my worries much.

Not being able to talk to Pete about this made it all the more difficult as did my new realisation of just how extraordinarily foolish Izzy could be when it came to sex.

To my surprise, half an hour on the internet confirmed what she had told me; that making homemade sex videos was indeed very common, or at least had been until the idea of revenge porn had reared its ugly head. From what I read, many girls' lives had been ruined by the release of video and photographs showing them in compromising or humiliating situations. The problem had become so bad that legislation was being discussed to outlaw it as a form of abuse, defamation or even assault.

I remembered the item on the news. At the time I had wondered how stupid a girl must be to make such things and put herself at the mercy of any man, boyfriend or otherwise. Now of course I had a bright, intelligent daughter who had done just that.

And my own sexual record was not completely free of bad decisions, was it?

The fear came from our continued inability to decide what to do about my pregnancy. Unwilling to put me under pressure in any direction, Pete appeared to be leaving the decision to me, even if that decision was to do nothing and let nature take its course. While I was pleased that he respected my independence and the fact that it was my body in which the baby was growing, there were times when I would have welcomed a little more clarity about what he really believed we should do.

If I was to have the unmentionable and unthinkable termination, the sooner it happened, the better for everyone. I had to make my mind up quickly on that, but long before the deadline for a termination arrived, my pregnancy would be almost impossible to hide.

Most of our friends and all our colleagues were from the medical world and would very quickly spot the signs I so badly wanted to hide. Two close friends were gynaecologists for God's sake! Indeed I was beginning to believe some of my colleagues at work had already guessed and were looking at me strangely.

I was even more concerned about how Izzy and her older brothers would react if my pregnancy became known or, far worse, the way in which it had occurred. Like most kids our three didn't want to imagine that their parents had a sex life at all, let alone an adventurous one involving other people.

That needed to be kept secret at all costs.

It was just all just paranoia but it worried me. The consequences could be severe; if my pregnancy became common knowledge, the vast majority of damage to our careers and family would already have been done whether I had the child or not.

The 'obvious' solution of termination was simply horrific to think about. At the very least, the damage it could do to my husband's career if it became known his wife had had an abortion was immense. His international reputation would be in tatters which would have a profound effect on his career and our financial stability.

But the effect on me could be much worse. From my medical background and especially from my husband's specialism I knew what an abortion involved. I knew what it inflicted physically on a woman's body let alone the unborn child's and that was bad enough.

What really worried me though was the effect it could have on a woman's mind. One of my closest friends had accidentally become pregnant following an unplanned night of wife-swapping on holiday with friends. As far as I knew, apart from those actually involved, I was the only person to know this.

She had chosen the 'obvious' solution and had a termination, hoping her life could return to normal.

It had not.

My friend had been haunted and tormented by it ever since, believing that she had murdered her baby. This had all emerged one evening when she had broken down in front of me after our conversation had turned to a pregnant friend of ours. No matter how many times I had tried to reassure her over the past years; despite now being remarried and having had two more children she had never got over the abortion. On the anniversary of the procedure each year she still claims to get cramps in her belly and I know she has recurring nightmares even now.

It seems that however educated, experienced and objective a woman is in her normal life, the deliberate destruction of an unborn child can cause permanent psychological damage.

The prospect seemed to paralyse my normally-clear thought process whenever I tried to make a decision. As a result my pregnancy was advancing; with every week that passed, the risks and potential consequences of exposure increased.

Fortunately the fears and concerns were balanced by the extraordinary amount of romance in my life, provided by my wonderful husband. Once again I understood just how lucky I was to have him.

To my relief there were as yet no unpleasant consequences of my decision to use my body to try and eliminate the threat Will had presented. At any event, there were none from my husband; Pete had treated me like a Princess ever since he had arrived home on Friday night and comprehensively reclaimed my body once again.

Reassuming the Alpha Male role he had temporarily put aside, Pete had taken firm control of our relationship once again in every respect except my pregnancy. He brought me flowers, took me to dinner in a fabulous restaurant; at his insistence, we had spent all Sunday walking in bright sunshine in the Peak District, something we both loved and which brought us closer together.

In between we had made love more times than I could remember, Pete leading me into each passionate copulation, taking control, sometimes demanding a blow-by-blow description either of my evening with Will in the sports club changing room or a re-run of my full night with Darren in their shared house, sometimes merely taking me with a passion that surprised and delighted me.

For some reason neither of us felt this in any way demeaning. In fact, rather than feeling humiliated at having been made a cuckold, Pete seemed bizarrely proud of me for having attracted and satisfied such young and attractive men. He even seemed proud that I was able to conceive at my age, making no attempt to persuade me either to terminate my pregnancy or keep the baby, giving me space to think things through for myself.

The love I felt for my husband grew even warmer and my fear of hurting him or losing him grew stronger. However often I told myself it was imagination, the thought of my pretty, sexually adventurous and very available friend Julie having my husband in her sights kept forcing itself into my mind.

To be fair to Pete, he showed no sign of dissatisfaction with the quality of our own physical sex life but there were continued and increasingly frequent reminders that he had still not been able to live out his main fantasy; that of watching me being fucked by another man.

I had been enjoying my fantasies for months; he had yet experience his. Listening to the stories would no longer be enough for him; action was needed and needed soon.

Knowing that his sole extramarital lover Julie was available and apparently still interested, my paranoid thoughts multiplied. I had to deliver the goods before frustration drove my husband into the hands and bed of this blonde, adventurous, china-doll-pretty temptation once again.

But his continued frustration didn't mean the fucking I had received from Darren and Will couldn't be talked about; far from it! Indeed there seemed no limit to the number of times Pete could listen to the story of his wife's infidelities, reaching new levels of excited arousal and energetic performance with each bedroom jaunt.

I even came close to orgasm myself on one occasion but I couldn't help notice a faint look of disappointment in his eye when he inevitably mentioned the fact that he had not been there to see it all.

I knew this had to change if our lifestyle and our marriage were to work.

Pete clearly knew this too; the trail of escort websites in the history of our PCs browser had been growing longer and longer. Recently however, it seemed that my husband had settled on the sites and reviews of only two specific escort couples. He had even made them favourites.

The subject came up as we sipped our coffees in the smart restaurant on Saturday evening. The meal had been simply delicious and we had enjoyed it side by side in a discreet private booth in a quiet corner. I had dressed moderately sexily in high heels and a short cocktail dress which exposed rather more of my bare thigh than I had expected. Pete had taken this as an invitation to explore my body under the table cloth throughout the meal, something I should have brought to a halt but which I must confess turned me on more than a little -- once I was sure no-one could possibly see of course.

As our coffees were refilled, Pete passed a small box wrapped in gold paper across the table towards me. He was smiling knowingly. I picked it up, opened the paper carefully and looked inside the box.

It was my Pandora bracelet, but instead of the series of blue charms it used to bear, there were only three, all different colours. I looked at my husband with a raised eyebrow.

"The blue is for your first, our mutual friend," he said, apparently still unwilling to say Tony's name. "One will do for him. The red is for Darren -- the colour of his Personal Trainer uniform and the green is for Will for the same reason."

"I like it," I smiled, leaning in to kiss my husband lightly on the lips.

"You're welcome," he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"I see there's plenty of space for more," I said, slowly leaning back in my chair and looking him straight in the eye.

"I hope to see it full one day," Pete said equally slowly and meaningfully. "But this time not too many of any one colour, agreed?"

After the messy end of my affair with Tony, I did not want a long term relationship with anyone but my husband again. If the lifestyle did begin once more, there would be no ongoing affairs.

"Agreed," I nodded.

I looked at the silver and glass in my hand. Memories of my affair with Tony came flooding back but I knew I could not talk about that time with Pete; the wounds were still too fresh. I had fallen in love with Tony; I had come close to leaving my husband for him and probably would have done if his real character hadn't revealed itself by dumping me as soon as my marriage had hit the rocks.

Even so, the physical memory of Tony's stumpy, misshapen but oh-so-thick cock inside my oversized vagina was impossible to dislodge completely.

"Have you thought about... what I suggested?" I asked innocently in case anyone could overhear.

Pete understood immediately; I was referring to the idea I had put to him that we should give my husband his fantasy using a professional, paid fuck-buddy. Pete had baulked at the idea at first, talking about prostitutes rather than escorts, the term I preferred.

"I'm still thinking about it," he replied enigmatically.

He was doing more than just thinking if his browsing history was to be believed but I just smiled encouragingly

"Feeling any more positive?" I asked.

"I'm... I'm getting there," he replied. "Slowly."

A warm glow passed through me. Pete had been unbelievably understanding about my infidelities the past months. The more I gave him back now, the happier we both would be -- and the less likely he would be to fall into Julie's grasp.

"Is that why you brought this out again?" I indicated the Pandora Hotwife bracelet.

"I suppose it is," he grinned.

"In that case, would you fasten it back on my wrist?"

"Can't you manage?" he joked.

"Given what it represents," I said quietly. "I think it would mean more to us both if you did it."

As my husband carefully sealed the silver fastener shut, it felt as if he was sealing our future too. I jiggled my hand around, looking at the coloured charms in the restaurant's low candlelight. They glowed warmly as my belly glowed, remembering how they had been earned.

I was going to be a Hotwife once again and soon too, but this time we would get it right.

***

The air of normality in my life continued on Monday morning. Once the hour or two of blessedly moderating morning sickness had passed, the day promised to be another uneventful, unremarkable start to the week. It was the kind of boring day I had loathed in the past but which now was all I wanted; a day in which my adulterously-conceived pregnancy, my sexually misguided daughter, my predatory best friend and even my husband's increasingly expressed desire to watch himself being cuckolded could temporarily be forgotten.

Pete and I had woken together, sipped tea together, breakfasted together, dressed in normal, everyday clothes, kissed each other goodbye in the driveway as we had for decades and gone off to our separate jobs.

As I drove to work, the familiar binging sounds coming from my phone told of multiple emails arriving and promised a busy start to my week. I welcomed that; I needed to be Dr. Penny Barker again. I needed to remind myself that until the previous November when Tony, my first ever lover had seduced me, I had been a career scientist working on an international stage. I still had a team of scientists beneath me and a global reputation in my field to maintain.

My behaviour since Tony had first seduced and fucked me unceremoniously on our lounge floor had been dominated by the contents of my knickers. I had to remember that there was more to Penny Barker than the cock-hungry slut the previous months had unexpectedly released from deep within me.