Dear Matt, My Husband

At last, our preparations were done. I took most of one workday off (without telling you, of course) and drove to Rinaldo's home and studio. The studio "bedroom" was perfect, and off to the side was a dressing room. My co-stars were not there yet, but Phoebe was, and she beckoned me into the dressing room to get me ready. She applied makeup lightly, as I preferred. She helped me out of my pants, blouse, bra, and panties, and I stood before her naked. She behaved with a professional mien, but there was something thrilling to me about knowing a woman would be a witness to what I was about to do.

She helped me dress. For my outfit—which we all knew I wouldn't wear long—I didn't want to start with obviously "porny" clothing. No leather or skin-right minidresses. I chose instead to wear the green sundress you bought me that time for the summer party at the Allisons - the sleeveless one that hits just above the knee. It has a snug-fitting bodice with just enough cover and support that I can wear it without a bra without being obvious about it. I told you I thought it was just a bit too sexy for a party held by the parents of our son's friend, but you insisted. Underneath I wore a lace cream thong, and on my feet Phoebe strapped on my favorite straw-colored espadrilles. I looked just the way I wanted to: like a pretty wife and mom, with some sexiness, but not so much you would ever imagine her doing what I was about to do if you saw her in a grocery store or a PTA meeting.

When I exited the dressing room, Rinaldo introduced me to my co-stars: Chris, Chuck, and Andrew. Chris was black with close-cropped hair, with a tall, slender but athletic figure I associated with a swimmer. Chuck was white and blond, a few inches shorter than Chris, with huge shoulder and arm muscles that stretched his short-sleeve shirt. He was obviously a bodybuilder. Andrew was of an Asian heritage I couldn't quite place. Perhaps Filipino. He had almond skin, standing about the same height as Chuck but with a thinner frame.

Rinaldo and I had agreed the men in the cast would have different ethnic looks and skin colors—it would give the video more visual interest. I approved. They were all attractive in different ways, though not, to my eyes, as handsome as you, my husband. They struck the right attitude, too. They were all well-dressed, in slacks and expensive shoes and stylish shirts. They looked like three young, upwardly mobile men with game, on their way to a trendy bar to score. We all knew what they were really there for, but there was no need to broadcast it too obviously just yet.

Rinaldo already had met with me, alone, during a clothed dress rehearsal during which we walked our way through the sequence of events, so there was no need for him to give too many directions. I didn't want it to be overly scripted; I wanted it to look authentic and natural. I chatted with Chris, Chuck, and Andrew while Rinaldo and Phoebe set up the lights and reflectors. They checked their camera equipment. Rinaldo would take the photographs while Phoebe would handle the videorecording.

At last, we were ready, and my co-stars exited a door to a storage room that had been dressed up to look like a door to the "bedroom."

We were ready. I was ready.

A knock sounded at the door and I opened it.

"Hello, Chris. Hello, Chuck. Hello, Andrew."

"Hey Megan," each of them said, in turn kissing me lightly on the lips.

Matt, I was so excited, you can barely imagine it. I tingled all over. It wasn't easy to stay "in character," even though I was more or less just playing myself. I reminded myself constantly not to look too much at the camera. Rinaldo had said many times to avoid doing that too much, but I could do it once and a while because the viewer would know I was making a video for you, my husband.

"Can I get you boys a drink?"

"Sure," said Chris. He spoke in a soft-spoken baritone that suggested subtle confidence. Chuck gave off more of an obvious alpha-male vibe. Andrew was harder to read at first, but I noticed his dark eyes moving my body with eagerness.

Oh, Matt, I wanted them. All three of them.

I led them over to a side table next to the bed, on which four glass flutes and an expensive bottle of Champagne stood next to an ice-filled pewter bucket, a small white towel, and a corkscrew.

"Would one of you do me the honors?"

"I will," said Chuck, muscling forward past the others. On another day his pushiness might have bothered me, but not now. I enjoyed his simple masculinity. I undressed all three of them with my eyes, and I am sure all three were eying me, focusing especially on my breasts and wondering, "Is she or isn't she?"

They would find out soon.

Chuck opened the Champagne bottle more adeptly than I would have guessed—he wasn't so ham-handed as I thought he might have been at first. He caught the cork in the towel and kept the bubbly from overflowing. Then he graciously poured drinks for all four of us.

"That's a pretty dress, Megan," Andrew said, eyeing me up and down.

"Thank you," I said. "My husband got it for me. You know about my husband, right?"

"We know all about him," said Chuck.

They clustered around me, but they left my front exposed so the camera crew could catch me in the action. It didn't take long for the sparkling wine to go to my head—you know me as a notorious lightweight—and I was feeling no pain. I felt the faintest of caresses on my shoulder and turned to see that it was Chris who had been the first to touch me this way. I didn't resist, and soon all three of them had their hands on me. But the movement was light and tender, not hard or impatient.

"Boys, that feels good, but I've been on my feet a lot this day and I wonder if one of you could massage my feet." I pulled away from their caresses and stepped two paces to the bed, on which I sat at an angle from the camera. "I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind knowing that you were taking care of my tired feet."

I winked at the camera. Phoebe and Rinaldo moved around the room, filming and recording the scene from different angles, but always keeping the camera on me. I was the star of the show. Ooh, I liked being the star. It's a feeling I could get used to, Matt.

Chuck and Chris knelt at my feet, and each unstrapped a shoe and gently laid it to the side. They went to work on my feet. Oh, Matt, it was exquisite. Strong, confident hands with firm, sure fingers kneaded and probed every inch of my soles. Chris did something with his thumb, pulling it along the arch of my instep and pressing into the foot as he did so. It didn't take long for their hands to wander, sweeping up my calves before returning to my feet to do their duty.

Andrew, meanwhile, had seated himself to the side of and behind me, and he began massaging my shoulders, gently at first but soon with more urgency. I felt his fingers snake across the back of each green strap of my dress, and I knew what he was doing: confirming that I wore no bra. His hands grew bolder and his fingers at stray times drifted beneath the edge of the top of my dress.

"That feels wonderful," I said. "Keep going."

Encouraged, Chuck and Chris grew bolder. Their hands still moved in waves over my feet and calves, but I felt them pull and paw higher on my legs, too, until they drew them further apart. No doubt, they would be able to see my thong under my dress soon, if they could not already do so. Those strong, masculine hands moved up my calves and past my knees until they rested on and squeezed the lower reaches of my thighs. Chuck pushed the hem of the dress back and I lifted my butt a fraction of an inch off the bed to make his effort easier. My dress now was pushed all the way up my thighs, and I looked down, and now even I saw the lace of my thong come into view.

"Chris, Chuck, the foot massage felt great. I like your hands on me."

I'd had massages before, Matt, but nothing like this. Six male hands lay on me, all focused on giving me pleasure, but seeking their own pleasure too. Chuck encircled one thigh with both of his hands, which he moved up until they stopped just an inch from my underwear. With glee, I felt wetness on the toes of my other foot and I saw that Chris had taken them into his mouth and sucked on them with noisy slurps.

Andrew's hands, meanwhile, had moved from my back to my front, cupping my breasts from underneath.

Chuck kept pushing my dress up, and I lifted my bottom off the bed to help him. Andrew must have sensed my willingness, because with no further delay he removed his hands from my breasts and grabbed the top of my dress and pulled it off my body. My bare breasts popped into view, and Matt, I swear their jaws dropped, and I loved that! Knowing that these younger, professional porn performers could be surprised and impressed by my 40-something body was so arousing.

Only my panties remained.

This was the moment of truth, Matt. My Rubicon. Take one more step and I would cross over forever. Up to this moment I had made the rest of my body available to the men's touch and gaze, but not my pussy.

My pussy, Matt. The most secret and sacred part of my body. Other than my doctor, no man but you had touched it since before our marriage. No man had even seen it until you had exposed it on the Internet with the pictures you took of me. Was I ready to let other men touch it and do to it what no man but you had done for so many years?

I was.

"Take off my panties, boys," I said, lifting my hips off the bed.

Chris pulled the tiny piece of lace up my legs, which I held high in the air. The fabric tickled my toes as it passed them, and in a moment it was off.

No sooner had it hit the floor than I splayed my legs open. As wide open as I could, Matt, to give each of them a full, equal view of my pussy. I snuck a hand down my belly to the junction of my legs and pushed my lips open with my fingers so they could see my pink depths.

There is such power in that pose. I know how much it can turn men on with its openness and its aggressiveness. There is no mistaking a woman's intention when she displays herself that way for a man. I have seen its impact on you, and I saw its impact now, on Andrew, Chris, and Chuck. I savored their heavy, lusty gaze on me. I delighted in its feel. They looked ready to pounce on me.

"Wait," I said. "Before we get started, you must each pay me one dollar."

"Why?" asked Chuck.

"Because," I said, and I looked into the camera knowing that you would see me later when I said it, "I want my husband to know that I'm not just a porn star wife, and not just a slut, but a whore, and a cheap one. "

I smiled at the camera.

"That's not too much to ask, boys, is it?"

"Hell, no," they said. I've never seen wallets fished out of pants pockets so fast. In an instant, three dollars lay scattered on the table next to the bed.

"Now that we've got the payments squared away, boys," I said, "fuck me. Fuck me like the whore you paid me to be."

Do you think I'm making that up—that I didn't really say that? I did say it, Matt. I could not have imagined saying it just months earlier, before you—yes, YOU—had initiated me into our slut fantasy. But that time seemed long ago. This Lissa was no longer that Lissa. I had evolved into a different person, but my evolution was not yet complete. I felt dirty, Matt, and I wanted to feel dirtier.

Andrew, Chris, and Chuck didn't wait a second longer, but they had clothes to remove. So far, I was the only one who was undressed. The feeling of being the only naked person in the room was delicious, but it was about to end. I've never seen men undress so fast. Chuck finished first, and he claimed the first prize. His thick, chunky, stiff, veiny cock, about the same length as yours, stood out straight as a rod from his body. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me forward until my ass lay partly over the edge of the bed. He pushed his cock forward until its head nestled between my folds, and with two eager hands I spread them farther back to ease its entrance. He thrust forward, fast, and I braced for a painful start, unsure of the sufficiency of my lubrication, but my pussy was so drenched by my arousal that his cock entered me with ease. I propped myself on the bed with my elbows to watch it, fascinated. The shaft disappeared inside me.

Do you wonder what it was like? He was no longer than you, but he was thicker, and he stretched my insides in a way I hadn't been stretched before. But it wasn't the physical difference or sensation that struck me palpably, it was the intangibles—the circumstances, the surroundings, the audience, and the thrill of no longer being faithful to you, of having given myself to another man, of having once and for all crossed a boundary that I would never be able to uncross.

Chuck held my legs in his hands and my pussy around his cock and asked, "Do you like that, slut?"

Slut! Yes, at last, Matt, after all your fantasies and name-calling, and after our play-acting, I'd earned that title. I'd let a man other than you fuck me. I was a slut, and I was happy to be one.

"I love it, Chuck," I told him. "Don't stop. Pound me."

He did, Matt. No man ever fucked me harder than Chuck did that day. Each thrust was a hammer blow to my insides. There was no trace of love or affection in our fucking, just raw, physical need. I watched in awe at the speed and force with which his thick moved in and out of me and at the delicacy of my thin lips encasing his organ. I looked up to see Chris and Andrew, also naked now, watching and awaiting their turn. Rinaldo held his camera near me to take close-ups of the union of our bodies. Phoebe stood a little ways back to capture the way our bodies in full length rocked against each other.

"Ah, it's so good," I said, in a squealy, little-girl voice. My heart raced. Already I could feel a damp sheen of sweat on my body. Nobody else said anything. It was as silent as an empty church sanctuary. I think the others were too captivated by the loud squelching noises my wet pussy made as Chuck fucked it.

Are you still stroking yourself as you read this? I'll bet you are. Don't come too fast, my husband. We have a long way to go. There's so much more fucking I want to tell you about! You have a bad wife, now, and I want to tell you in great detail about my descent into badness.

You know I usually like to take my time during sex. I like it better that way and I like to build slowly to my orgasm. But Chuck's fast, steady pounding of my pussy took its toll on its resistance. I knew I wouldn't be able to last long.

I didn't have to, however, because Chuck suddenly exploded inside me. His torso arched and his mouth opened with a deep-bass shout that filled the room. His body shook. He held me by the legs and rocked back and forth only a few more times until he apparently was done, and then he pulled out, his cock coated in cream. My pussy let out an audible "plop" at the sudden departure of his thick penis. In another, earlier time I would have been embarrassed by that noise, but not this time. It was just another delicious sign of my new depravity, and, besides, I was too transfixed by the sight of my cum on the thick strange cock that had just fucked me, and of my cum trickling out of my spread lips.

There was no time to enjoy the moment, because Chris quickly took Chuck's place while Andrew stood to the side, gently stroking his cock to keep it hard and ready when his turn came.

Chris's cock was noticeably longer than Chuck's, but thinner. It looked smooth and dark and slippery as an eel. I could hardly wait to try it.

Its head pushed past my open, cum-lacquered lips slowly. Chris fucked me in a different way. With seemingly infinite deliberation Chris inched his cock's way into me. But, at last, I took its full length in me, and Chris's brown cock buried itself fully in my pale body, to the hilt.

I closed my eyes to savor Chris's gentler, more sensual style of fucking me, but my eyes snapped open when a strong hand took my chin and pulled my face to the side. Chuck's cock, still at two-thirds-mast, arced directly before my eyes.

"Clean it," Chuck said.

I wouldn't, or couldn't, refuse. I opened my mouth, ready to blow Chuck—you know how much I like giving blow jobs—but Chuck had other ideas. He grabbed my face with both hands and shoved his cock into my open mouth. This was no blow-job, Matt; it was a face-fucking. Chuck growled with macho satisfaction.

Fucked from both ends! Another first for me, Matt. Another step on my way to surrender and depravity. The only drawback was that Chris's assault on my mouth drew attention away from Chris's slower, kinder exploration of my depths. But I didn't mind. Any loss of sensation below was offset by the sublime joy at this new form of naughtiness I could tick off my list.

And all of it—both holes and both cocks—was captured on camera! It was my first real porn performance. I was a real porn star wife, at last, and I loved every minute of it.

I marveled at Chuck's ability to stay hard so soon after having just orgasmed inside me. His thrusts were hard and deep, and I gagged frequently, but Chuck took no mercy on me. Drool spilled out the corner of my mouth and streamed down my chin. You've never fucked me like that in the mouth before. I never asked you to. It was not easy to take it, but the discomfort was part of what made it so deliciously satisfying.

Chuck withdrew quickly and inspected his organ. He seemed pleased.

"Good job, cocksucker," he said.

"Thank you," I replied.

To my surprise, Chris pulled out suddenly, too, without having come in me. He turned to Andrew.

"Your turn. I have business elsewhere."

I was disappointed at Chris not having come in me until I discovered his intention. He crawled onto the bed while Andrew looked me in the eye.

"Flip over, Lissa," Andrew said.

Oh, Matt, I knew what he wanted, and I wanted it too. I flipped over on my elbows and knees, with Andrew helping to reposition me with his hands on my hips. I arched my back and pushed my ass back and up and parted my legs. I turned back and looked with satisfaction at Andrew staring at my exposed butthole and used pussy lips. I saw Phoebe with her videocamera capturing every detail of my lewd exposure.

Andrew smacked me hard on the ass, and I yelped.

His cock was neither as long as Chris's nor as thick as Chuck's, but it had a delicious almond smoothness and shape. I lost sight of it as it entered me from behind.

While Andrew fucked me and began pushing and out, Chris sat on the bed in front of me, offering his long and still very hard cock, wet with a mixture of my juice and Chuck's cum.

"Take it," he said, offering me a treat wholly different from Chuck's forceful face-fucking.

It was a beautiful cock, Matt, so long and smooth and dark. I had never had the pleasure of taking a black man's cock into me before, and I could hardly wait. But I went slowly. I cupped his balls, shaved smooth, and I kissed the tip, tasting myself, Chuck, and perhaps a dollop or more of Chris's precum—it was difficult to tell, but it was delicious. I paced my ministrations to Chris's cock with the steady rhythm that Andrew had taken in moving in and out of me. I took the head in my mouth and my lips puckered and cheeks collapsed and sucked it in. I wanted him to feel the pressure, but nothing too hard.

Meanwhile, I directed my focus to the doggy fuck Andrew was giving me. You know, Matt, how much I love that position, and I loved the way Andrew's cock was hitting places in me that didn't get quite the same treatment during the missionary-style fuck I'd gotten minutes earlier. It felt like Andrew was changing direction from time to time, mixing up angles and depths so every part of my cunt would be touched. At times he raised his body and dove down into me, and then the head of his cock touched my g-spot and I felt sweet heaven.