Mentoring A Wannabe Hot Wife

Author's introduction: What follows is an imagining of what might occur when an inexperienced wannabe meets a very experienced Hot Wife and an exponent of female domination. Some characters might be based on real life people. I'll leave that to my readers' imagination! But anyone mentioned in this tale is over the age of eighteen, and all sexual acts described are consensual. Please consider rating and commenting on this story when you have read it. Thanks.

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My anniversary fell on a Friday that year. It was coming up to the end of the school term, and things were beginning to wind down, so I was able to plan to leave school more or less on time for once. Both staff and pupils were looking forward to the six week long summer holiday. In anticipation of a night of celebration, I'd rung Richard, my husband, and he'd confirmed that he'd booked a table for two at my favourite restaurant a few miles away from where we lived. I'm Olwen Simpson, by the way, deputy head teacher and head of the English department of the school where I teach.

Earlier in the day, on a whim, I'd decided to get my hair done, so I had phoned my hairdresser to try and get an appointment. The salon was owned and run by an old pupil of mine. She'd been a bit of a wild child when she was in school, much to the dismay of her parents, who had held great hopes that Cheryl would eventually follow either her father into a career in the law as a solicitor, or her mother, who was a highly respected consultant surgeon. Cheryl took none of the classes that I taught, but I knew of her as a result of some of her more outrageous deeds, which led to regular meetings between us, when she'd be sent to me to explain why she'd broken yet another school rule. Cheryl's parents were frequently summoned to school to hear of their daughter's misdemeanours. They would be very disappointed in Cheryl, express support for whatever action I chose to take, and offer totally unrealistic expectations that their daughter would change her ways and her subjects, and eventually go to university.

Unfortunately for them, Cheryl's interests lay more in flaunting her very well developed body to any of the boys who were interested, and introducing her fellow pupils to the joys of smoking. She consistently pushed the school rule boundaries to their limit, and on several occasions I found myself having to threaten her with suspension if she continued to rebel.

I felt something of a fraud when, on one occasion, she was sent to me for smoking. The young member of staff was horrified to have discovered Cheryl smoking a rather large, very expensive Cuban cigar. It turned out that she'd stolen it from her mother, who had them imported at great expense. As a cigar smoker myself, I was jealous (it was way out of my price bracket), but I also felt something of a fraud. It was well known in the school that Mrs. Simpson smoked cigars. I gave Cheryl a mild ticking off, told her to be more circumspect in her smoking habits, and gave her a week of detention.

"You can do some revision in those subjects you want to take next year," I told her. "You might not want to go to university, but it will help you get a job in hair and beauty if you can show that you have studied the basic fundamentals and that you understand them."

Cheryl was hardly an academic, but she'd done her detention and worked hard at those subjects that interested her. When she left school at eighteen, she walked straight into a job at the local hairdressers salon. As a leaving present, the cheeky little minx gave me a box of extremely expensive cigars. I rationed myself to one a week, and they lasted me almost a year.

Cheryl proved herself to be an excellent hairdresser. She increased the turn-over of the salon, and after a few years, Miss Lewis, the owner, decided to retire, to enjoy the profits of her much expanded business. Cheryl persuaded her parents to buy the salon for her. She changed the name, modernised the premises and was soon doing a roaring trade.

I've always wanted to support local enterprise, so I had been having my hair done there long before Cheryl started working in the salon. I saw no reason to stop patronising the business when Miss Lewis retired and as Cheryl remembered me, I was usually able to get a last-minute appointment if I needed one.

Cheryl herself answered the phone when I called from school

"I'm sorry to do this again, Cheryl," I began, "but it's my anniversary today and I'm going out to celebrate tonight. Do you think you can fit me in sometime after school, please?"

"Of course, Mrs. Simpson," she replied, forgetting once again that I'd asked her on more than one occasion to call me Olwen. I was not her teacher any more, after all, and 'Mrs. Simpson' made me feel a hell of a lot older than my fifty three years.

I heard her riffing through her appointment book.

"Um... I've got nothing before five o'clock," she said eventually. "I can do you then, or if you want to wait for Lizzie, she won't be free until a quarter to six."

Lizzie was my usual hairdresser, and I wondered if Cheryl knew her nickname, given to her by some of my more exotic friends. She was known as Lizzie the Lezzie by many of the people who patronised a very exclusive club on the outskirts of our town. Lizzie liked nothing better than a good, sound beating before being fucked with the biggest strap-on that her current companion possessed.

"That might be pushing it a bit," I replied. "I'll have you at five if that's OK?"

Cheryl giggled at the innuendo and replied, "I'll fit you in at five o'clock," and I heard her giggle again. I remembered having to reprimand her for humiliating a fellow pupil when she was in school. She'd been telling anyone who would listen that the boy possessed a less that average sized cock and that she would be able to fit him inside herself and still have room for a dildo.

"Thanks, Cheryl," I said, ignoring the chance to tell her that if only she had known it, I would have loved the chance for her to fit anything she liked into me. Did I mention that I'm bi-sexual and I frequently bat for both sides? No? Well I am, and I do!

I got to the hairdressers on time, having managed to leave school only half an hour after the end of the school day. Cheryl was sitting at the reception desk, talking to someone on the phone. She smiled at me as I walked in, and spoke into the receiver.

"As I've told you, we are extremely busy. It really is no good phoning to ask for a same day appointment. I'd recommend ringing at least a couple of days before you want to come in."

Cheryl rolled her eyes at me, and pointed to a chair in front of a washbasin. I took off my coat, hung it on the coat rail and sat down. In the next chair, a woman was having her hair washed by Lizzie the Lezzie.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Simson," she said formally. "You've finished school early."

"It's my anniversary," I replied."I'm going out for a meal this evening."

Lizzie winked lewdly at me and pushed her tongue into her cheek a few times, making it look as if she had something long and thick in her mouth. I understood the implication, and grinned at her, nodding and winking back.

"So sorry to keep you, Mrs. Simpson," Cheryl interrupted. "Bloody people who think they can just ring up and walk..."

She stopped talking and grinned.

"Ex-teachers not included, of course," she concluded, bringing out a pristine coverall sheet and wrapping me up in it. She adjusted the chair so that my head was over the washbasin, and turned on the water.

"Now then, what did you say earlier? A wash and blow dry, and a bit of a tidy up? We'll have you looking gorgeous for your anniversary date with Mr. Simpson in no time at all."

The sound of water splashing in the sink all but drowned out the sound of Lizzie the Lezzie's ironic "Yeah, right," but I heard it, and I glared at her.

Back home, I showered carefully, keeping my newly coiffured hair dry. I wore my new satin bra and panties over my favourite little black dress, which was snug enough to show off my generous tits perfectly, and just long enough to preserve my modesty whilst giving anyone who wanted a look, a generous view of my thighs.

I put on my eye make up and my favourite carmine lipstick. By the time Richard came home, I was ready to go. He had a quick wash and brushed his teeth, and we went out to the car.

The restaurant Richard had booked was in a beautiful rural setting, a few miles outside of our village. We arrived in good time, and he parked the car and came around to my side to open the door and help me out. We walked into the restaurant together.

"Good evening," Richard addressed the restaurant manager. "There is a table booked at seven in the name of Simpson."

"Yes sir. Follow me please," replied the manager, picking up a couple of menus and a wine list. "This way, if you please."

He led us to the far end of the dining room, where a young man was already seated at the table he had intended to show us to. He stopped and looked around in confusion.

"That's alright," I smiled at him, as the young man got up and moved a chair so that I could sit down. He kissed me full on the mouth, and I settled into my seat. I looked up at Richard.

"Wait in the car for us," I instructed. "Isaac will be returning home with us later on. He's staying for the weekend. I'll text you when the bill comes. You can go."

Did I mention that I'm a Hot Wife, with a cuckold for a husband and a lover young enough to be my son? No? Well I am, and I have!

Richard, his face scarlet with embarrassment, looked at the manager, and smiled sadly. The penny dropped, and the manager turned back to us, proffering menus and the wine list. He obviously didn't care who ate at his establishment, and I'd already confirmed that the bill would be settled.

Richard slunk away, but my experienced eye had already clocked the tiny bulge in his trousers, despite the cock lock that I made him wear twenty four seven. It was due to be removed tomorrow afternoon, for his weekly shaving and milking, but he knew that if he displeased me, I'd only shave him. His milking depended upon his not annoying me in the slightest.

I hadn't told anyone any lies. This occasion was my anniversary. I had been with Isaac for exactly three years today. He and Richard were in fact very good friends. Isaac was an architect, and the company he worked for did a great deal of business with Richard's civil engineering company.

Isaac and I had met at a celebration bash given to mark the end of some project or other. I'd been a Hot Wife for over twenty years by that point, but I didn't have a regular lover at that time. Richard introduced me to Isaac, knowing full well that I had an ambition to 'go black' as the saying goes. He also knew that Isaac preferred the more 'mature' woman!

We hit it off straight away. I'm always honest about my chosen lifestyle, if I think the person I'm coming out to will understand. (In all other scenarios, I am an extremely discrete and private person.) Isaac seemed delighted with my proposal, having first checked that Richard knew and approved of my plan.

With youth on his side, he fucked me four times that night - once in my mouth, twice in my cunt and he finished off in the early hours of the morning, up my arse. Richard has never had so much cream pie to eat!

We had a wonderful meal, and the night sped by. Our waitress was attentive without being intrusive, and if the truth be told, I think both of us harboured a fantasy about inviting her back to my house for a threesome! We didn't, of course.

I texted Richard when we were finishing our coffee at the end of the meal. He came and stood at our table just as the waitress brought the bill.

"Perfect timing!" I smiled at her. "My husband will pay, dear. Thank you for a gorgeous meal."

Turning to Richard, I took Isaac's hand.

"We'll wait for you in the car, cucky," I informed him. "Don't be long. Isaac and I are anxious to get home. Make sure you leave this young lady a generous tip."

My boyfriend and I sauntered out of the restaurant hand-in-hand leaving behind a rather confused waitress and a highly embarrassed cuckold. Looking back, it was a rather indiscrete thing to do, but as much as I was anxious to get home and get myself fucked, I also bore in mind that Richard likes public humiliation, and chances to subject him to it are few and far between. This was one of those rare chances, so I took it. As it happened, no real damage was done, and in fact, a new friendship resulted from my action. But I didn't know that at the time That is another story which I might well put down on paper some day. This tale is about what happened after we left the restaurant that night.

Isaac and I were back in the car when Richard returned, having settled the bill. It was early in June, and dusk was falling. Despite having dined so well, I was making a meal of Isaac's cock when Richard got behind the wheel and started the car.

"Home, dear?" he asked, watching my head bob up and down on Isaac's cock through the rear view mirror.

"Mm hmm" I replied, and winked at him. He smiled and turned the car for home.

It was my intention to get Isaac off before we reached home. That way, I reasoned to myself, he'd have enough time to begin his recovery, and by the time we got to bed, he'd last much longer the second time around. I wasn't wrong!

We'd been travelling about five minutes when I first tasted pre-cum. Everything was going to plan. I used my tongue, swirling it around the ultra sensitive underside of Isaac's cock head. He began to groan.

"Slow down," he managed to gasp, but as he wasn't being specific enough, all that happened was that Richard reduced the speed of the car. I carried on sucking, using lips, tongue and occasionally gently dragging my teeth up and down his cock shaft.

Isaac was young, fit and has remarkable powers of recovery once he's cum. But at that time, he had no self control. Once he was on the edge, he'd inevitably cum in seconds, and that's what happened that night.

He started to jerk upwards in his seat, sending his cock deep into my throat. I wanted him to cum in my mouth, so that I could taste his gorgeous cum, so I pushed him back down and raised my head a little. Now his cock was properly in my mouth. It felt red hot, and sure enough, it seemed to swell even more and a first jet of cum pulsed out of Isaac.

I didn't stop sucking, and my mouth rapidly filled with thick, warm, tasty cum. I swallowed the first dose, because Isaac was, still is, a really heavy cummer. He shot another three or four pulses into my mouth, and almost immediately I felt his cock beginning to shrivel.

I cleaned him up as best as I could, and released him. He tucked his cock back into his trousers and we cuddled.

"What a great night!" he murmured in my ear.

"What you mean is 'What a great start to a night'," I corrected him, and we both laughed. There was no way either of us was going straight to sleep when we got home.

All three of us went straight up to my bedroom as soon as we got home. Richard was allowed to sit in the cuckold's chair as Isaac and I undressed one another. We both used my cuckold's mouth to prepare ourselves for a night's fucking.

When Richard was tonguing me, I felt the urge to piss, so he got an hors d'oeuvres before his main course of cream pie. Having eaten that he was sent to the spare room then. And Isaac sent me to sleep with a sore cunt and an arseful of cum, which I decided I'd feed to the cuckold in the morning.

Saturday dawned, and Isaac and I eventually made our way downstairs for breakfast via the shower, after a gorgeous early morning sixty nine and a cuntful of cum for me. Richard had prepared our breakfast, and I ate mine sitting in my special kitchen chair, which allowed me to feed my cuckold at the same time. He gratefully ate his first cream pie of the day, and then set about rimming my arsehole, and cleaning out the crust of cum around my pucker that Isaac had left there before we went to sleep last night.

Whilst Richard did the weekend shopping, Isaac and I lolled around the house, kissing and cuddling and acting like horny teenagers. The phone rang whilst Isaac was teasing me with some long, slow cunt licks, but as it was one of my neighbours who shares the same lifestyle as me, I didn't insist on him stopping whilst I chatted with Hilary.

"Have you heard?" she asked, after we'd exchanged greetings. "There's a slave auction down at the club tonight. It was scheduled to be held in Middleham (our neighbouring town), but they've discovered dry rot in the dungeon playroom, and the club is closed for renovations. So they've transferred the event to our club."

I must have not made the correct enthusiastic response, because Hilary began again, even more enthusiastically this time.

"Look, I know neither you nor I are in the market for a slave," she began, "but Freddie is coming to stay for the night, and I thought I'd get him in the mood by taking him down to the club for a couple of hours."

Freddie was Hilary's current lover, and from what the gossip on the Hot Wife grapevine was telling me, unless he upped his game somewhat, she'd soon be in the market for a replacement. Despite being in her early sixties, her appetite for being fucked was voracious. If ever there was an open night down at the club, Hilary was always first in the queue for a gang bang, and it wasn't unusual for Neville, her cuckold, to have to eat a dozen cream pies during the course of the evening. Like most cuckold husbands, Neville adored seeing his Hot Wife being fucked, and he never complained about the amount of cum he was required to clean out of his Hot Wife's cunt and arse.

I looked at Isaac, who was still licking my cunt, although by now, my clit had woken up again and was peeping out from underneath her hood.

"Club tonight?" I murmured to him, and he nodded enthusiastically and got to work on my clit. I moaned, loving the way his long, hot tongue rasped against my sensitive little bud.

"Are you fingering yourself?" asked Hilary, annoyed that I wasn't giving her my full attention.

"No, of course not," I replied truthfully. Another moan escaped my lips as Isaac nibbled my clit and sucked it into his mouth. "Isaac is muffing my clit and... oh fuck! Yeah! Do that again, darling... Oh!...Mmmm... that's gorgeous."

I couldn't get my words out any longer and Hilary giggled.

"You lucky bitch!" she said softly, and I could picture her smiling as she said it. "I'll leave you to enjoy Isaac's tongue. Tell him he can call round when he's finished with you. I've got a cunt that needs a good seeing-to as well!"

Isaac was still at it when Richard came home with the shopping. My cuckold didn't interrupt us, of course. He put the shopping away and stayed in the kitchen until I'd summoned up enough breath to recover from the gazillion or so orgasms Isaac had brought on. I called Richard into the conservatory.

"Isaac wants a round of golf this afternoon," I informed my cuckold. "If you make me a quick sandwich now, you and he can bugger off and chase your silly little balls around the course. I'll milk you when you get back. And don't be late. Isaac and I are taking you down to the club tonight. There's some sort of event on, according to Hilary. Any questions?"

"Yes dear," replied Richard. "What would you like in your sandwich?"

Later that afternoon, Richard presented himself for milking. Isaac excused himself, and went to have a shower. I didn't object. Milking is a serious business, and I love my cuckold a great deal. I keep him in chastity because I like to demonstrate that I am in charge in this marriage. But a doctor friend of mine, who also happens to be a Hot Wife, advised me that draining my cuckold's balls regularly will prevent complications to his health.