I Did It For You

This is a Loving Wives' tale in the BTB sub-category with some of my favorite tropes.

Very limited sex, but hopefully enough to keep it from being stolen by some lowlife scum and posted on other non-sexual sites as their own original work as I've seen happen with other Literotica LW stories.

Released solely to Literotica, April 2024.

I Did It For You

Can you do too much for love?

1.

The first honk came while I was collapsed across Maeve's back, trying to catch my breath while I luxuriated in the feeling of her freshly cum-filled pussy massaging my still hard cock. The honk was followed immediately by the mantel clock chiming. I turned my head to the side and saw it was 2:30.

"Oh, fuck," I groaned, "right on time."

My wife laughed, which made her tight cunt do things certain to sustain my erection a little longer.

We'd both known my best friend Frank was due soon to pick me up for a 4-day-weekend hunting trip, but when I'd found Maeve draped over the arm of the sofa, bottomless, with her round ass up and firm legs spread, I couldn't resist going in for one more dip. Going without that pretty, pink pussy for four days was never easy.

I'd only had to work a half day this Thursday at the start of my short vacation and had already shown my wife how much I was going to miss her when I'd gotten home from work two hours earlier. That earlier action meant the "one more quickie" she asked for on the second go-round wasn't as quick as expected, thus I was just filling her again when Frank arrived.

I heard the horn honk a second time and reluctantly pulled free and scurried out of the living room and across the entry way to the front door, cock deflating, but still swinging back and forth, sending droplets of cum and pussy juice flying. I pulled the door open just far enough to stick my head and one arm out around the frame. I held up a finger, signaling my friend standing beside the Ford F-250 that I'd be out in a minute. Pulling back inside, I closed the door and leaned back against it.

Maeve laughed again and I had to laugh with her. She had flipped over and was lying on her back on the sofa, now using the arm to elevate her legs. She was apparently working to keep my creampie from dripping out of her and onto the furniture. Well, I certainly couldn't expect her to talk to Frank to buy me time to clean up. Not when all she was wearing was a short babydoll that would have shown both the bottoms of her ass cheeks and my seed running down her thighs if she stood up.

I went the other way across the entry hall to the half-bath, put a washcloth under hot water and gave myself a quick whore bath. As I came out, I struggled to do up the zipper, snap, and belt on pants that had never come off to fuck my wife's needy pussy.

The owner of said needy pussy was now standing by the door, thighs tightly clenched, one hand on the doorknob, ready to open it for me. She was so gorgeous I was prepared to call off the whole hunting trip and stay with her, maybe clean up the last creampie with my tongue until I was ready to give her a fresh one.

And I might have if she hadn't been holding out my quilt-lined canvas jacket in her other hand. I stepped up, took it from her, and leaned in for a final kiss. Then I picked up my gun case and gear bag from where they lay ready in front of the door and Maeve pulled it open for me.

As I stepped out onto the porch, my wife leaned around the door the same cautious way I had and smiled and waved at Frank. Maeve is adventurous, even daring in the bedroom - or living room or kitchen or... but that naughty streak ends at the door. I'm sure Frank would have liked a full look at her in the babydoll with no undies, but that kind of flashing or teasing wasn't Maeve's style. And that suited me just fine.

2.

Frank had his beast of a pick-up tricked out with everything we might need for hunting, dressing, and transporting our quarry; we'd found such preparation equated strongly to success. He'd rolled back the soft cover from over the bed and opened the lock box behind the cab. I put my rifle case in the lock box next to his and my gear bag into a plastic storage box secured to the sidewall.

I climbed into the cab and took another look at the porch; the front door was closed. Frank backed out of the driveway and then headed toward the interstate.

"You stink, dude," he said flatly, after we'd been rolling along some twenty minutes.

"Sorry, man. She just gets so juicy when I get her going."

"And she makes you sweat like a pig. I'm smelling the crotch of your arms, not her legs."

I could only laugh.

We made good time to the old cabin that had been in Frank's family for generations. The current owner was his Uncle Bob. However, Bob couldn't get around very well anymore and Frank had become its primary user and caretaker. He'd made a couple of significant improvements over the past few years, including upgrading the insulation and putting in a more efficient wood burning stove, so we didn't have to stay bundled up in parkas the whole time. For this season, he'd put in a satellite dish that not only brought in lots of channels, but also Internet.

"Still no reliable cell coverage up here," he said when unveiling the upgrade, "but you can use WhatsApp through the WiFi if you want to call Maeve."

"You know, she's not expecting much contact and I do like being disconnected occasionally, so I think I won't tell her about having Internet up here just yet."

We'd watched Sportscenter during dinner and now I was reading a John Sandford novel and Frank was surfing on his laptop. We were both sipping on beers, but they were only our second of two for the night. We weren't stereotypical yahoos just out for a drunken boys' trip free from our wives. We were actually there to test ourselves against nature and hopefully fill our freezers with venison.

"Holy shit!" blurted Frank.

I closed my book but kept my finger in place as I looked over at him. I was expecting a follow-up to the exclamation, but Frank's eyes were still glued to the screen, clearly reading as he scrolled.

"Holy double shit," he said, before raising his eyes from the screen and staring at me, bug-eyed.

Then his face got a look of doubt, as if perhaps he shouldn't have called out to me.

I replaced my finger with a bookmark and said, "What is it, Frank?"

Was he looking at a news site? Had my house burned down or had Maeve been in a car crash?

His voice and face dropped. "Oh, fuck. You've gotta see for yourself." He turned the laptop ninety degrees, so it faced the empty chair to his right. I rose from the battered armchair, crossed to the dining table, and took a seat. I forced my eyes to the screen, expecting a headline of horror.

It wasn't a news site. It was some kind of social media site. There on the screen was a picture of a smiling Maeve. It was what I called her wicked smile; as in, I was in for an especially wicked fuck.

I looked up at Frank. "What the hell? What is this?"

"I'm sorry, Matt, but it's a dating site," he replied helplessly.

"A dating site?" Shit just wasn't registering.

"Look," he said, "you know that after Tracy and I split up, I was fucked up and I just sat around for six months or more, barely pulling on my own crank. Then one day I woke up horny, but in no mood for prowling bars. I started checking out Tinder and some other sites to meet people...women."

"Meet women." I looked at him more firmly. "But you were horny, so...?"

"So, some of these sites kind of skip over the dating and get right to the banging." Frank's voice lightened as he said, "I've actually managed to get laid a number of times. Widows, divorcees, lesbians who like cock." Now his voice stumbled. "Um...I've stayed away from them, but there are also some wives out there."

"Wives?"

"Well...yeah. There are some wives...and a lot of husbands...who are out there looking for some action on the side."

I looked back at the screen. Farther down the page was another photo of my wife. Her buxom Irish Milkmaid body was posed lasciviously in lingerie. My gut twisted. "Maeve?"

But the profile didn't say Maeve, it said LonelyLyttleGyrl, with a handle of @LLytlGyrl

"Hey, Matt, listen man, let me tell you something, another thing I've found is that there's lots of bullshit and even fraud going on out there." He gave a nod to the laptop. "I've come across fake profiles more than once; profiles using a woman's name and or image without her knowledge. Maeve could be a victim here. I mean, I've never seen her here or on any other site before."

I mentally grabbed at that straw as I looked more closely at the profile. The photos were definitely Maeve, could they have been hacked from our own computer? The wicked smile photo did look familiar. Then I registered a detail that sent a needle into my heart. The lingerie set she was wearing in the second photo was sexy, but still classy. A black silk camisole above a thong with lace edges. Below the thong were sheer black, thigh high stockings. The whole outfit had cost almost a hundred dollars. I knew because I had bought it for her last Christmas. This photo was less than a year old and I hadn't taken it.

3.

I started reading.

Can you help me with my Daddy issues? And I don't mean Sugar Daddy.

I'm sure my father has long wanted to...you know...but he hasn't. Yet.

But I keep wondering how it would be.

Sometimes I think of Daddy as he is now, middle-aged, but still hot. Sometimes I think of him as the gorgeous young man I've seen in photos. I can even imagine a virile retiree still able to give Mom more action than she can handle - so of course, Daddy's Girl would be glad to help out.

So, no matter what age you are, if you're clean and meet the description, please send a photo and let's get together. I'm all alone for a long weekend, Fri-Sun, and would really love some intimate Daddy-Daughter time.

Below the profile paragraph was a field that said,

Current Status: Closing Soon.

I looked up and caught Frank's eye. "Daddy issues? What the fuck?"

"Look, that could be a good thing." He must have seen my eyebrows fly up to my hairline because he rushed on. "No, really, man. Some of those cheating wives I was talking about? They're not really unhappy with their husbands or looking to leave them, sometimes they just have a certain kink that they're not comfortable sharing with him. Maybe they want to try it with a woman or a black dude at least once."

"Or they have a daddy fantasy?" I said.

Frank just shrugged.

I looked back at the screen and continued reading. Then my throat locked up and I must have croaked or something, because Frank said, "You found the double shit."

Double shit indeed.

Daddy's family is from Greece and Italy, so he has that classic Mediterranean look.

His eyes are dark and his hair is dark and curly. He has a strong, straight nose, but a bit of a Roman bump is okay. If that's you, I look forward to a Daddy-Daughter date. And if you're in the 6-foot range with the build of a long-distance runner, it's going to be a very hot date.

"What. The. Actual. Fuck?"

"I know," replied Frank. "I gotta say, Matt, I thought you might be in on it, but that look on your face tells me not."

"Not a fucking clue, man. Not a fucking clue."

Frank and I were both totally confused because Maeve's dad, Sean, is a pale-skinned Irishman with rust-brown hair. The description she'd put on her profile obviously didn't match him. But it did match me.

Then I got to the triple shit.

Below the description of Maeve's dream daddy was another field that said:

Join the chat as Franklin'sFree

I immediately twigged to Franklin'sFree being Frank's post-divorce dating name and I clicked on it, opening up a chat box filled with messages. I began scrolling through assholes saying what they wanted to do with my wife's hot body and her occasionally thanking them for the fucking complements!

Then one comment really stole my breath away. It was from someone calling himself, daddy@20

daddy@20: hey baby gyrl, had grt time last month. hope u have spot for me.

A response had come almost immediately from LLytlGyrl.

LLytlGyrl: My young soldier?! Oh, yes, I can definitely make room for you, young Daddy. DM me and let me know when I can see you again.

'Had a great time last month?' 'I can definitely make room for you?' 'When can I see you again?'

Fuck me! My wife wasn't looking for one date, she was looking for many and had been for some time.

"She's done this before," I said, stunned. I looked up at Frank. "Can you tell how long she's been on this...this hookup site? Because that's what it is, isn't it? Or is it actually some kind of live sex site like OnlyFans? Could she be doing this for money?" I stared back down in horror, half-expecting Maeve to show up on a live camera feed.

Frank turned the laptop back to him and started mousing around with the touchpad. "As far as I know, it's just a hookup site; I don't think they allow full nudity, let alone sex. The chat rooms can get pretty spicy, but you have to have an account to enter those. Oh, as I see you've found out." He navigated around some more. "Well, it's not set up like she's running a business. There are plenty of pros and semi-pros on these sites, but I don't see any of the warning signs." He sounded embarrassed as he added, "I suppose she could be asking for tips from guys who respond directly, but everything here indicates that she's in it...um...for the fun of it."

He looked back at the screen and changed the subject. "Okay, here's an interesting one.

TigerPop says: Glad to see you decided once wasn't enough.

LLytlGyrl replies: Tiger tat at the waist, Pop?

Pop says: With the long tail hanging... Okay, skip that part...skip that part...

Okay, she finally says: I thought once would be enough to cure me of my naughty obsession but am hoping just one more round of injection therapy will be enough. I hope you can make it, I really enjoyed how you... and skip that part."

Frank looked up from the screen. "Well, reading in between the gut-wrenching lines, it looks like her secret fantasy was pulling a train, and this would only be her second time.

"But she did say she didn't expect to do it again," he added quickly, as if that somehow meant my marriage wasn't over.

"She also thought the once before would be enough," I growled. "If it really has only been once." My shock was heating into anger. "And she's having a whole goddamn Daddy Weekend while I'm away? She tells this motherfucker she can make room for him? How damned many 'Daddy/Daughter dates' is she going to have?" I barked at Frank.

"Whoa, Matt, whoa. It's not like she has a calendar on here so you can see when she's available. This is like a pop-up site, meant for quick hook-ups, not long-term relationships."

"Make a date with her," I said.

"What?"

"Her profile page said this 'pop-up' is closing soon. Swipe right or whatever the hell you do and see if she's available for a date this weekend. I want to know if she's really out fucking 'Daddies' while I'm up here in the mountains."

"Well, I could try to get a date," he said, although his voice made it clear it was the last thing he wanted to do. "But I don't match the description and she seems serious about that; she wants to see a photo."

It hit me again, she wants to see a photo of me. I wondered what she would say if she got one.

4.

I told Frank about my idea of setting up a date with her using my own photo and he said he thought it was actually a good idea. "Don't be one of those chumps who lets it happen when he has a chance to stop it." Then I reminded him that it was already too late if she'd done the same thing the month before. That gave him pause.

Then I said I could still fuck up this month's fun by putting a message in the chatroom saying I was on my way home with my rifle and I'd be looking for all the assholes talking to my wife. That's when he changed tack and said it was probably better not to give her any warning.

"Listen, she said she had Friday through Sunday free, so she'll be making dates for then." Frank and I had each taken Friday and Monday as vacation days to get the most time to hunt on our licenses, so I wasn't expected home until Monday afternoon or evening. "If you cut in on the chat or WhatsApp her or anything now, she'll have all the time until you get home to get her lies and bullshit together."

His voice had taken on a distinct tone of anger, and I remembered that his wife Tracy had seemingly dumped him out of the blue, only to find out months later that she'd been having a longtime affair with her boss.

"But if we head down there now, you'll still be there early enough to stop all this crazy bullshit, but also be able to catch her cold and in person with the evidence." He gave a nod and a sneer to LLytlGyrl's profile on his laptop.

It was just over three hours back home and we talked through all the angles we could think of as we drove down the mountain roads and then the highway. The conversation ranged from bracing Maeve tonight in our house, to following her to wherever her rendezvous were planned and ambushing each Daddy as he arrived for his date. But the most serious stuff focused on the divorce that was probably coming whether this weekend's dates were halted or not.

Frank's experience with divorce law had not been pleasant, but his painful experience was hopefully going to be my shield against some of the worst of it. We were on our third repeat of everything after two hours and drove the rest of the way mostly in silence. When we got to my street around 10:45, Frank slowed, preparing to stop at my house, when I said, "Keep going."

He gave me a glance but pressed on the accelerator again without a word.

"Turn the corner and stop," I directed. He did, then looked at me again.

"There's a car parked on the street across from our house. I don't recognize it and no one parks on the street at night around here. Everyone parks in their driveway or garage. She's already started and she's doing it in our own house."

Reaching for the door handle, I said, "Thanks, man. You can take off."

"Fuck that, dude, we have a plan. We either go check things out together or we leave together and deal with it tomorrow."

"No, I've got to know now," I said. "One way or the other."

"C'mon, Matt. We've gone over and over it. If she's alone that won't prove anything, but you'll still be all fucked up in your head and who knows what you'll say or do."

"I've got to know," I repeated.

"Okay, Plan B it is," he said and put the truck into gear. Maeve and I live in a quiet neighborhood with lots of older people, so there's no action on the street at night and many of the houses had no lights on. Frank spoke firmly as we made our way to the alley that ran behind my house.

"Whether she's alone or not, we do the same thing. We scope things out and then we leave for my place. My own divorce taught me that this shit is serious. You've really got to have your ducks lined up before you pull the trigger." He must have suddenly remembered my .308 Sako Finnlight deer rifle sitting in the lockbox welded to the bed of his truck, because he quickly added, "Speaking figuratively, of course."

'Of course,' I thought.

5.