A Cajun Hotwife Memory Ch. 04

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The final night with another man's wife.
2.9k words
4.41
43.5k
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Part 4 of the 4 part series

Updated 10/23/2022
Created 05/18/2007
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Sir Edward
Sir Edward
141 Followers

I had stayed two nights at Herb and Sherri's Louisiana Bayou home. To my astonishment and pleasure, the sexual services of Sherri had been given to me.

Still in my mid-20's, it had never occurred to me that a man would willingly surrender his wife to another man. Oh, I knew well about swinging, and cheating wives, but not about what we today call a Hotwife... a woman who has sex with other men with her husband's knowledge and permission.

I had met the two in a small town called Houma, west of New Orleans, at an Arcadian bar and dance hall, and been invited...well more like kidnapped...to their home in a small fishing village nearby.

Herb left to go fishing before dawn. Sherri came in with coffee long after the sun was up, and proceeded to make certain I knew that sharing their home meant sharing her.

She was beautiful. Small, perfectly formed, she had a delightful, sparkling personality.

Sherri was happy to rollick in the bed with me, joyful and totally unrestrained in lovemaking. But, of course, it was not love...she loved one man, but that man followed a seldom-discussed tradition of hospitality. She had been given to many friends of her husband, but never before to a stranger.

Not only was she pretty, highly sexual and very bright, Sherri was a great cook. I got to enjoy a variety of meals, all of them great.

Herb was a shrimper. His boat docked only a few yards from his front door. But he also did some trapping of animals, a bit of hunting...mostly for his own table ....and his fishing would extend to oysters and fish when the supply of shrimp was low.

He and I talked frequently in the early evening, and he told me the advent of the gas and petroleum industry had changed things around the bayou country.

"Got two brothers working over at the refinery," he said. "Make a hellva lot more money than me. Built themselves new fancy homes. And I don't see as they are all that much happier."

After my second night there, and one full day of playing with Sherri, I figured it might be time to move on, but the morning was again spent with me naked and her as well, most of the time.

It was the second day Sherri and I played, and at my rather youthful age I was as randy as could be. Sherri welcomed every chance to touch and feel...and after the very first time, when she had sucked me to completion...every time we touched, we wound up fucking.

When Herb got home in the afternoon, I began to give my thanks and move on. Herb stopped me in my tracks.

"You got so much that's dammed important you gotta leave?"

I said no, but expressed a desire not to overstay my welcome.

Herb turned to his wife.

"Sherri, you want him to stay a couple more days?"

She looked first surprised, then her expression changed to a broad smile.

"I'll say!"

"Settled then." Herb said briskly. "Now what's for dinner?"

It being early summer, dinner was done before dark.

Herb invited me to take a walk, and began to tell me about the house.

"My granddad built this place with his own hands. 'Course he had help from the other men."

The structure was a wooden frame, raised off the ground by about four feet.

I suggested that was because of high water. Herb nodded, but continued. "Yup, but it also keeps the wood dry. All the ground around here is moist all the time, except for a drought time. And it helps keep insects and things from getting in."

Herb was especially proud of the fact that his house was bigger than some others nearby. His grandparents had several children, and as the family grew, so did the house.

A second floor had been added, and a front porch, with the roof continuing out over the porch.

The windows were spacious and open....really open. There was no glass, just shutters to close if the temperature dropped.

The lighting was kerosene lamps. There was no electricity. Or rather, they were not tied to the grid. A small generator was used, mostly to power the television, which was already old at that time.

In front of me, Sherri and Herb spoke English, with the occasional French-tinged word thrown in. But when they were alone in their bedroom, I could hear what I took to be Cajun.

Herb explained a bit about his fishing...mostly that it was "damn hard work."

We had crawfish that night, and I learned to "suck the head." Once you got used to it, the taste was delicious, although considerably less spicy than I had always believed Cajun cooking would be.

Back inside, Herb stood in thought for a few moments, then reached for a jacket from a peg on the wall.

"I'm headed over to Chuck's," he said to Sherri. "Gonna help him with some stuff. I won't be back 'til morning."

And with that he was out the door.

I was dumbstruck. He was leaving Sherri and I to spend the night together, to play sexually again, this time until we feel asleep.

Sherri looked at me, then walked toward me, threw her arms around me and kissed me deeply.

Already my cock was rising.

Without backing away, her mouth next to my ear, she said in a soft voice: "He gave me to you for the night."

The rule had always been that no matter how often he shared her with other men, when he was home, all her attention, sexual and otherwise, was to be on him.

"He has never gone away for the whole night," Sherri said.

Her body was pressed close to mine. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss me again, and reached down with her hand to rub against my crotch. I was hard now...really hard.

She rubbed and kissed, passionately, then turned and led me to the bedroom...my bedroom, not theirs.

It took only moments for her to disrobe, since she wore no underwear.

I stood transfixed, once again stunned by her beauty.

She moved toward me, pushed me down on the bed still clothed, and worked my zipper down, carefully.

When my hard member sprung out, she laughed. "Why, look at him. He wants me again," she said, and began to lick up and down along the shaft.

I shuttered in pure pleasure, and after a minute or two of absolute bliss as she worked her hot mouth up and down me cock, licking the head of it then moving down again to engulf me, I clutched her shoulders and started to pull her upward.

"Not yet," she said. "I love doing this to you. Please, let me suck it more."

Who was I to refuse such an offer?

I undoubtedly had no idea even then how long she worked her oral magic on me, but I know that after awhile I had to fight mightily to keep from cumming.

When I told her that she needed to stop, or else she was about to get a load, she not only did not stop, she attacked my cock with greater zeal.

Still I held off, and then rather forcefully told her to stop! Now!

She did, but with reluctance.

"But I wanted it," she said, her pretty face in a pensive pout.

"Yes, but I want to fuck."

I stood up, undressed and stretched out on the bed. My open arms welcome her as she lay on top of me, with me facing upward, she facing down, our lips locked in a kiss that was pure lust...hot, wet, seemingly never ending.

Sherri moved her hands downward and lifted herself up. She wanted to insert me into her.

But I knew I would not last long if I started fucking right then.

I flipped her over, quickly, easily, and pinned her.

"You just wait, you hussy," I said.

She said nothing, so I kissed her again. This time it was my hands that moved lower as our passion built. I moved one hand between us to touch her most sensitive area, and dripped one finger, then two, between the lips of her pussy.

Gradually the kiss ended and I shifted to her side, but did not remove my fingers, which now moved to search inside her. I knew that Sherri had a G-spot, and I knew just where it was. Both fingers curved upward inside her very wet cunt, reaching toward the front wall.

It was no secret when I found it. She cried out and began to move with me, welcoming this intrusion into her. Without stopping, I moved myself lower in the bed and placed my mouth right over her clit. When I licked it, she jumped, almost trying to move away.

I held her down and continued to lick her clit at the same time my fingers strongly massaged her g-spot.

"Oh God," she said, her body writhing. "Too much, too much." But then she began to climax, and again a stream of hot clear liquid gushed out of her hole and onto my face.

I slowed....continuing to stroke inside her but more gently now, and her body relaxed slowly.

I slipped my fingers out of her and moved upward so our heads were side by side.

"You seemed to like that," I said.

She smiled. "I'm gonna have to change your sheets again," Sherri said.

Her arms went out to surround me and pull me close.

"What am I gonna do when you go away," she said, and for the first time I recognized a tinge of sadness.

"But you get more sex, more men, than most women in this world...married or single,"

She nodded." True, but it is not like this. Not even close. This is like the first times Herb and me did it."

With the mention of his name I remembered a question.

"Why did he leave us alone tonight? Did you say anything to him?"

"Not a word. He just seemed to sense it was the right thing to do.and wow, was it!"

Sherri arose and got a towel. She first wiped her juices off my face; lovingly I must say, smiling. Then she put another one down on the bed, covering some of the wet spot she had created.

When she got on the bed, I lifted her to her knees, turned her around and moved behind her.

There was no headboard, so I pushed her toward the wall. Her hands reached up to brace herself. When my prick parted the lips of her pussy, it felt like heaven.

She was bent only slightly, and despite her short height ( I was a full foot taller) the length of our legs made no difference in that position.

I fucked her.

I know of no other words that sum up the carnal, forceful, wild bull kind of sex we had together.

Darkness fell at some point, and we were in the dark. Neither of us wanted to stop to have light.

From kneeling on the bed behind her, we moved to other positions.....missionary, thrusting like a steam engine into her and hearing her moan and growl; her flipped over, me riding her tight tiny bottom as she stretch out on the bed; doggie style, on the bed, and then her kneeling on the bed with me standing behind her, always thrusting.

It was like that, her bent over, her perfect tits bouncing beneath her, me roaring in white hot passion, that suddenly I knew I could not hold it back this time.

My body shuttered and I must have said something, but I did not know if it was words or just sounds.

I froze. She yelled "Yes" over and over and her wet cunt clasped me and my cum poured out into her, inside her, some of it rolling out, joined by her own juices.

Then something happened that had never happened to me. The normal subsiding of passion, even if only temporary, did not happen.

My cum poured out, but my cock stayed stiff and rigid and after only a momentary pause, I began to move again, to stroke, to fuck.

Sherri said something in French, or Cajun.

I could not speak. Winded and exhausted, I was still not spent. The beautiful sensations of fucking a beautiful woman did not lessen, nor did my ardor.

With hardly the slightest of pauses, I continued to fuck

I held her waist, pulled her backward onto the floor. Now she was on her hands and knees, me behind her on the floor, fucking like the beast with two backs.

I have no idea how long we fucked like that, only that I amazingly came again, this time I suppose with less volume of sperm, but with strong blasts of it into her already full vagina.

We both collapsed onto the rug. A few moments later she spoke. "The best, the best," she said, her voice strained. "Oh God, when you go away."

Somehow we struggled back into the bed, and fell asleep.

----

At some point in the night, I awoke to the sounds of crickets. A lone bullfrog, very close by, croaked his baritone mating call. Sherri was near the foot of the bed, my cock in her mouth, she performing gentle care and pleasure.

We spoke not a word. When my cock was hard again, I moved her up to me, turned her around and slipped into her. We cuddled like spoons, and I did her again. This time it was not raging passion, it was sweet sweet love, although neither of us would have admitted it.

She came for me a couple of times. Less harsh, less wild thrashing about when she did, but climaxes nonetheless.

There was moonlight now, and I could see her beautiful face and lush body.

It was very close to paradise.

----

Herb came home at some point. If he looked in the house, he would have seen his wife sleeping in the arms of another man.

I knew he had returned because his boat was gone.

After breakfast, with Sherri again clad only in the black and white frilly, tiny apron, I drove into town, into Houma, Louisiana.

They had no phone, and I was missing in action. My City Editor was understanding....to an extent. I told him I had met a woman. He congratulated me, and informed me I was on my own time now. I promised to write some interesting stories, and he said if they were publishable, he might reconsider.

While I was in town, I noticed a small jewelry store. I decided it would be a good idea to buy something for Sherri.

The storeowner showed me several small lockets and such. When I picked one out, he asked casually if it was to take home to my wife.

"No," I told him. "A very nice couple took me in for a few days, fed me and treated me like a friend. I thought it appropriate to get the wife something nice."

Without a word the man reached over the counter and took the pendent from my hands.

"Mister, around these parts you do not give something like this to another man's wife. In fact, you do not give them a present of any kind. It would be an insult."

I thanked him, and left.

----

I did not make love to Sherri again.

I spend that night in blissful sleep. Herb delayed going out in his boat the next morning, and Sherri wore not that sexy apron, but a sheer colorful summer dress as she fixed us breakfast.

I kissed her demurely on the cheek as I left, and she stayed inside as Herb walked me to my car.

"You are welcome back any time," he told me. He paused and I knew he wanted to say something more.

"Actually, not too soon," he added with a smile. "She had a wonderful time. She told me. But she also felt some emotion for you, and that bothered her."

"Did it bother you?"

Herb nodded.

Yes, but I am not sorry you came to stay. You are welcome back, just wait awhile."

Then he leaned toward the car window as I sat inside.

"By the way, her name is not actually Sherri. I was calling her 'Cheri.'"

"And what is her name?"

Herb gave a short laugh. "Better you don't know."

I also realized that I did not even know their last name.

As I drove away, Sherri stood in the doorway of the house. She waved, and gave a sad little smile.

The End

This is a true story, although from many years ago. I am sure it is not accurate in every detail, but it is the best I can recollect.

I never saw or heard from Herb or Sherri again, although I left my address.

Those times when I got back to Louisiana I avoided looking for them. I am not sure why.

Those few days changed my life. The idea of having your wife fuck another man grew to an obsession, and before long my wife and I were swingers.

Although she would from time to time do another man without me along, it was not something she seemed to relish the way I did. We grew apart and divorced. She was, and is, a wonderful woman, but as I said, we grew apart.

Now I have a new wife. She is called Vixen, and she is a Hotwife. I write about her here on Lit.

During my many trips to southern Louisiana over the decades, I have spoken with many people...from swingers to professors to men and women native to the region....about the custom of some Cajun men to share their wife sexually.

None has ever heard of such a thing.

Sir Edward
Sir Edward
141 Followers
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8 Comments
26thNC26thNCabout 2 years ago

Whorewife and Cajun cuck.

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
Great story

Really enjoyed the story keep writing

AnonymousAnonymousabout 9 years ago
"None has ever heard of such a thing."

Wonderfully done!!

But considering what the man in the store said --

I think he was certainly aware of the 'custom' !!??!!

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
BS

Of course none have ever heard of such a thing because it didn't exist. Good story but total BS. I'll admit that I had a couple of experiences like that but a culture of sharing?!? No such thing. btw - Bonsoir Catlin means "Good evening Catlin". Just enough French words in the story to give it color but not a lot of accuracy. Lots more but that's enough. I enjoyed the fiction. Tanks, you!

AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
Every lowlife Pommy school dropout is calling itself sir or lord.

Those pretentious ass wipes can hardly tie their shoes. Gives you any idea of their ability to write??

"1" !!!!!!!!

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