Harry's App Ch. 03: Loving Wives

One day, towards the end of lockdown, Emily Richards marched into her husband's home office and said, "I want a divorce, John."

There was, perhaps, a brief flash of guilt in his eyes. "Honey," he said soothingly, "you're overreacting. We can work this out."

"Don't 'honey' me," she snarled. "I forgave you the first time you cheated, and the second, but I'm so very tired of all the lies. The only reason I've waited this long is Darcy and Peter. But Peter's twelve now, and Darcy's ten. They're old enough to understand that this marriage is a sham. That I deserve a husband who doesn't take me for granted."

John sighed. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Something needs to change." He picked up his iPad and started tapping and swiping. "Just give me a few seconds... okay." He raised the tablet and took a picture of her.

"John!" she hissed. "What are you -" Emily fell silent as she lost her train of thought completely.

"Close the door and lock it, Emily," her husband said. Once she had done so, he sat her down opposite him. "I do love you, Emily. But I have needs. Sexual needs. And you were never interested in satisfying them. That is going to change." He pressed some buttons and the fog confusing her thoughts lifted away.

"I have no intention of satisfying your perverted whims," Emily said.

"But you do wish to make this marriage work, don't you?" he asked gently.

To her surprise, Emily realised that she did in fact want it to work. Yes, she was frustrated with her husband and was tired of his lies and cheating, but it really wasn't fair to Darcy and Peter to take them away from their father. "I guess," she said reluctantly.

"I'm like every married man, Emily," John said. "I love you as the mother of my children, but in bed I want a whore. A woman who embraces her slutty inner self. A woman who adores sucking cocks and swallowing cum. A woman who begs me to fuck her ass because the dirtier the sex, the more she loves it."

Emily stared at him in horror. How did he dare to talk to her like that? How dared he ask her to be a dirty whore?

She shook her head. No.

"If you won't even try it for one night," John said, "then maybe you were right. Maybe we do need a divorce."

"No!" she cried, dismayed. How had their failing marriage become her fault suddenly? "Fine. Okay. I'll be your whore. For one night."

Something felt very wrong with her logic, and honestly there was no way she'd do half the things he had suggested. But she could dress up slutty and suck his cock for a bit, which was a lot more than she usually cared to do.

Throughout the rest of the day, the idea bothered her. On the one hand, she didn't see why she had to cater to her husband's perversions just to save their marriage, but on the other... Something about it stirred her arousal. Sitting on the loo mid afternoon, she was startled by just how wet her pussy was. She had shaved it once, many years before, and during the early years of marriage had made an effort to keep it trimmed, especially before beach holidays, but lockdown had put an end to that.

Sitting on the loo, she brushed her fingertips through the dark curls that were slick with her natural lubricant, and her pussy was so wet she was able to slip a finger into her vagina without it hurting. An abrupt and demanding need to make herself come had her rubbing her clit frantically, ignoring for the moment the almost painful fullness of her bladder.

There was something very dirty about the idea of masturbating while on the loo. Certainly it wasn't hygienic, but her need to come was too great. She had been tense for days, not helped by the argument with her husband that morning and the riot of her imagination since. But Emily had never felt comfortable masturbating - at all, let alone in the middle of the day while on the loo.

It took a real effort not to cry out with the intensity of her climax - and again in dismay as she lost control of her bladder, so that she was both peeing and coming. The sense of being out of control of her own body was dizzying, but the combined relief was so profound she wondered why she had never done it before.

Troubled by what she had just done, and feeling vaguely dirty for multiple reasons, Emily climbed into the shower and washed herself thoroughly. She started trimming her pubes, but on a whim decided to shave completely, figuring she could use it as proof that she cared enough about the marriage to act like a whore.

*

That night, after the boys were in bed and fast asleep, John embraced her unexpectedly from behind and kissed her neck. "It's time, my love," he murmured. "Time to bring out the whore. Are you ready?"

Emily really wasn't. "Give me ten minutes," she said, and hurried upstairs to wash and dress and mentally prepare herself. She picked out her highest heels and her shortest skirt, and a pair of hold-ups that were quite torn. She decided that whores did not wear underwear, and found a T-shirt that stretched nicely over her chest, showing off her breasts nicely and making sharp, visible points of her nipples.

It was, she decided, a very slutty look, and one she would not dare to wear outside the bedroom. She finished it off with the brightest shade of red lipstick she had, and decided that if it wasn't slutty enough for John, then he was the one being unreasonable.

"Ready," she called.

"Come downstairs," John called back.

Emily frowned. She hadn't planned to leave the bedroom, not dressed like she was. Still, the boys were sound asleep, so maybe it would be okay. She made her way quietly downstairs and into the living room, and stared in shock at the man staring at her. It was John's friend Chris from down the street. His eyes went wide at the sight of her, and she stood there frozen in fear.

John spoke from behind her. "You look so fucking sexy, my love." His hands were on her thighs, lifting her skirt, and Chris's gaze dropped to her newly shaved pussy. "Don't you think she's sexy, Chris?"

Chris could only nod.

Emily experienced a tumult of emotions, her initial fear turning to humiliation, and that giving way to the thrill being told she was sexy, followed by a rush of shame at being dressed like a whore with her pussy exposed.

Before she could escape, John's arms circled her, one hand grabbing a breast, the other finding her pussy. "Would you like to watch me fuck her?" Two fingers curled into her pussy and her nipple was squeezed. His hard cock pressed against her bum. "See how wet the slut's pussy is, Chris."

No, she wanted to say, but her husband's fingers had ignited a heat that had her moaning with lust and pushing back against him. "Tell Chris you want him to watch us fuck," John murmured in her ear. "Tell him you're my whore."

Emily just wanted to fuck. Preferably without an audience, but John was reminding her that she had agreed to be his whore. To save their marriage. Which was strange, because divorce was the furthest thing from her thoughts. If letting Chris watch was just proof of her willingness to be a whore in the bedroom...

It was all too confusing. Easiest to let him have his way. "I'm his whore, Chris," she said, her cheeks burning. "I want you to watch us fuck."

"I love you," John whispered, and guided her down onto the floor, onto her hands and knees. "My beautiful whore," he said, and spanked her.

She gasped from the pain, but it only made her want him more. "Fuck me, John," she pleaded. "I need your cock in me."

In front of her, Chris had taken a seat and was happily stroking his cock. Behind her, John was using his cock to tease her clit, which was nice but not what she needed. "Please, John," she begged. "I'm your whore. Use me."

Emily gave a cry of satisfaction as his cock pushed into her. She was so wet it went in easily. Painlessly. She loved her husband's cock. It filled her just right. He settled quickly into a rough, hard rhythm that usually she would have complained about, but this time it suited her. The brutal impact of flesh against flesh was exciting her clit exactly the way she needed.

She wasn't watching Chris, but suddenly he was kneeling in front of her, pulling her head up, pushing his cock between her lips. Emily was so focused on her husband's pounding cock and the tension building exquisitely towards the climax she desperately needed, that Chris's cock was in her mouth before she realised it. "Yeah, suck my cock, whore," he growled, holding her head in place.

Emily's momentary despair at being taken advantage of in this crude way was diluted by the continued thrusting of her husband's cock, the impact of his hips against her forcing her forwards onto the cock in her mouth. "Yeah," John echoed. "Suck that cock, whore." He spanked her bum hard and she moaned in response, partly in complaint, partly because she so close to coming, but partly also because she couldn't resist sucking the cock in her mouth, even if it wasn't her husband's, or maybe because it wasn't.

Her husband had wanted her to act like a whore, and Emily was enjoying it too much. She had never been fucked by two men at the same time, and loved being the focus of their lust. But it was difficult to focus on her own approaching climax if she was forced to pay attention to Chris's cock, but it was impossible to ignore the latter. She licked and sucked as best she could, while also trying to satisfy her own need.

John grunted as his cock hardened inside her, and he thrust in deep and hard as his cock kicked inside her. She could feel his cum tickling her, and she thrust back urgently, and uselessly, trying to bring herself to a climax.

Emily whined with frustration as he eased out of her. "Let's swap," John said, and he and Chris circled around her. She knew what it meant, but the part of her that wanted to object at being used like this was overruled by her need for a hard cock.

John knelt in front of her and pushed his cock at her. It was semi hard and wet from their combined pleasure. She wanted to refuse it, but suddenly Chris's cock was nudging at her pussy, seeking entrance, and as she reached down automatically to guide him into her, she realised it was no longer just a pretence. She really was being the slut they wanted her to be.

"Fuck," she cried as Chris rammed into her. He wasn't as big as her husband, but she didn't care as long as he stayed hard. "Fuck me, Chris," she said. "Make me come." When John held her head by her hair and pressed his cock to her lips, she didn't resist. She opened her mouth and sucked on her husband's cock that had just come in her cunt, tasting herself and him too, but this time her attention was fully on her own pleasure, thrusting her hips back against Chris to enhance the pleasure of his brutal pounding.

John was quickly hard and trying to fuck her throat, but it made her gag and choke, and after a few attempts he gave up. "Put her on her back," John said.

Chris rolled her over, and climbed on top of her in missionary position. It was one thing to be fucked by someone who wasn't her husband, something else entirely to do it with him on top, his face above hers. Almost as if they were making love and not, in fact, just fucking. She found it disconcerting and very distracting. When he paused and lifted her legs up over his shoulders, she found it easier to relax and focus on the pleasure.

John knelt by her head, his hand on her breast, his cock teasing her lips. "After you come, Chris and I are going to give you a facial."

Emily frowned. Facials were a porn thing and very degrading. Then again, being treated like a whore was also a porn thing and very degrading, so what was one more thing?

She was getting close again. She closed her eyes and focussed on the cock hammering into her. "Make me come," she pleaded. "Make me come." John's cock was dribbling precum over her lips, and she licked at it.

Her breathing grew ragged as she teetered at the precipice, and then cried out as her whole body seemed to contract about the cock that wasn't her husband's. "Yes," she gasped, "yes," as she convulsed in orgasmic bliss. Chris continued thrusting into her, as best as he could, prolonging the much needed release.

Chris lowered her legs to the ground and shuffled around until he was by her head. Emily had two cocks pointed at her face. She was still experiencing aftershocks of pleasure, and lacked the will to do much at all. She watched the two men stroke their cocks as they stared down at her face.

It was strange, she thought. For years she had been the faithful one, raging against her husband's infidelity. How had she been so easily seduced into this threesome? How had she done so many things this night that would previously have horrified her?

Chris finished first, his cum bursting out over her cheeks and lips, a second burst hitting her nose. She opened her mouth wide for him to aim at, which he did. John ignored her mouth, aiming instead at her cheek and ear, getting it into her hair, even, and afterwards he gazed down at her cum-splashed face and said, "You look so beautiful like that."

*

John had had the App installed for a long time, and had read a few improbable stories of what it did, but it took the threat of divorce for him to use it. There was something profoundly immoral about using it, but he figured that if he could just get Emily to be more relaxed and adventurous about sex it would make everything better between them.

At first he thought just to increase her libido and her openness to dirtier sex - she was obsessed with hygiene - and he had made her more easily aroused, of course. Minor things that wouldn't change her personality. But when Chris had popped by to return some DVDs he'd borrowed, John couldn't resist taking his plans a step further. He quickly reduced his wife's inhibitions generally, and let her heightened arousal do the rest.

That night, while she slept, he made some minor changes to her appearance too, lessening the signs of age, bumping her breasts up a cup size. Finally, unable to resist the impulse, he gave her a fetish for cum, and a fetish for being fucked in her sleep. All of this editing had him hard again, so he adjusted her pussy to be wet, reduced her sensitivity to sleep disturbance, and eased off her pyjama bottoms and panties without waking her.

He had long had a fantasy of fucking her while she slept, just as he had long had a fantasy of watching her with another man, and now he had the power to make all his fantasies possible. As long as he was slow and gentle, she would not awaken.

Emily was on her back, and he parted her legs, slowly, not too wide, but enough for him to lie between them and breathe in the smell of her pussy. She had showered before going to bed, but his cum was still inside her, and he imagined he could taste it as he swept his tongue between her labia and swirled it about her clit. She murmured something indistinct, but remained asleep.

He slipped a finger into her. Two fingers. Feeling for her G-spot. He loved how wet she was, certainly wetter than he had made her in the App. Some part of her was responding to his tongue and fingers.

Carefully he crawled up and over her, positioning his cock, and pushing into her soft, wet cunt. "I love you," he whispered, and began fucking her with slow, deep penetration. He loved that the last person to fuck her was Chris. One day he wanted to fuck her ass while Chris fucked her pussy. Maybe he could find a third man to do her mouth. He was sure Emily would love having three cocks in her at once.

He fucked his sleeping wife as hard and as fast as he dared, but that was agonisingly slow for him. He seemed to linger forever on the edge of coming, before he did at last, and it was his groan of pleasure as much as his pulsing cock that woke her. "Ah, what the," she half shouted, before clutching hold of him fiercely and coming hard.

They convulsed together in silent ecstasy for a minute, before Emily laughed and murmured, "If I'd known just how horny it made you, I'd've dressed up as a whore years ago." She pushed him off her and rolled over onto her front. "Next time," she added, "don't wake me up." And within seconds she was fast asleep again.

John lay beside her, laughing quietly to himself. That App was the best thing ever.

*

It amazed Emily how much her life had changed since the day she asked for a divorce. That had been a mistake, but a good mistake, because John had shown her how selfish she had become about one very important facet of their life together. Put simply, she had been a prude about sex, reluctant to experiment or to indulge her husband's wishes, and as a result had been in deep denial about her true nature.

Since that day, she had discovered that she was a woman who loved to wake up in the morning to discover her husband had used her sleeping body for sex. It was proof of how much he loved her body, and also it was probably why she kept having dreams of floating in clouds of ecstasy.

Sometimes he woke her accidentally. One time he was fucking her mouth and came in it, and she had woken up coughing on his cum. John had apologised profusely, but Emily had been so turned on by the idea (and the delicious taste of cum in her mouth) that once she got her breath back, she sucked his cock until it was hard then climbed on top of him and rode him cowgirl style until she'd climaxed three times and he'd filled her cunt with a fresh helping.

She loved his cum. While he worked from home, she was always thinking of how she could keep the boys safely occupied long enough for her to grab hold of John and his wonderful cock. With lockdown coming to an end, John would be back in the office and she would be without him and his cum for hours.

"I have an idea," he said on the morning of his first day back. It was dawn and the kids were still asleep. They had a few precious minutes of peace together in bed, which of course ended with John coming deep in her cunt. (She'd learned to love that word. Calling it her cunt made her feel dirty and sexy.)

"Wear this," he said, showing her a funny looking silicone toy. He demonstrated its use by pulling out of her, and pushing the toy into her cunt.

She understood. "To keep your cum inside me," she said, amused but happy with the idea.

Later, on the way out the front door, he whispered to her: "I may have a new secretary today. I may fuck her. You can taste her on my cock when I get home."

At the time, she hadn't known how to react. It was, if nothing else, refreshingly honest. He had cheated on her in the past, but at least he wasn't lying about it this time. But also, it wasn't like she wasn't sleeping with other men. Chris was round for a threesome at least once a week, and for the past few Saturdays she'd been spending the night with the Fishers.

John had met the Fishers through the Internet somehow. They lived a short taxi ride away. Both were in their fifties, and while he was rather plain, she had the biggest pair of tits Emily had ever seen in real life. She also, weirdly, got a thrill out of watching her husband fuck other women. When Emily spent the night there, she would just sit there masturbating as he spent hours fucking Emily in half a dozen different ways.

Emily had mixed feelings about the visits. She agreed to them because it excited John to know she was in another man's house and being thoroughly used there, and it excited her knowing that John would fuck her senseless the first chance he got. But also, it was nice to get out of the house after so long in lockdown, and great to be able to fuck without worrying about the kids waking up and hearing her scream and swear. With the Fishers she felt free to be as dirty and nasty as her impulses took her.

But there was also that lingering sense that she was cheating on John by fucking when he wasn't there to at least watch. Even though he had been the one to set it up, and he had encouraged her to do it, she couldn't dispel the guilt she felt.