Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 13: Freedom

My second day of freedom started a little more promisingly than the first, but only a little. I had enjoyed more sleep than the night before: the cold had woken me only once, forcing me to slide under the duvet and I had passed the night in relative calm. But as the alarm clock beeped alongside my head and I opened my eyes, the reality of the situation rushed in on me again.

I was alone in the silent house. My husband Pete had left me because I had lied to him about seeing Tony, the only lover I had ever had; the man who months earlier had seduced me and with whom I had started a passionate affair. Our separation might be forever; it might only be for a fortnight but at that moment he had gone and there was no guarantee he would return.

When, after a month of illicit sex I had confessed my infidelity to my husband, Pete had eventually agreed to it continuing and the two of us having a Hotwife-Cuckold relationship. But that did not mean I had carte blanche to sleep with anyone, anytime; my husband was supposed to agree who I slept with and when. I was not supposed to see or fuck Tony without my husband's consent.

It was a matter of trust; trust which I had broken.

Most importantly, I was not supposed to see any one man frequently enough to form a relationship that could threaten to our twenty-year-plus marriage. This I had done with a vengeance too; Tony and I had fallen deeply in love. Indeed our relationship had become so deep that during a recent, highly-illicit overnight stay in a country house hotel, we had openly discussed how I should leave my husband, move in with Tony and perhaps even marry him once he was divorced from his estranged and equally unfaithful wife Julie.

Even this deceit could have remained secret if I had been less naïve and more careful.

On the terrible Sunday only two days before, my period had prevented us making love so to ease his frustration I had given Tony one of my rare blowjobs, swallowing his cum afterwards - an even rarer event. I had then come home to my husband pretending to have been to the gym. Pete had smelled Tony's semen on my breath, tasted it in my mouth as he kissed me and the truth of my deceit had come out.

When he found out the extent of my illicit relationship and the frequency with which I had been deceiving him, my Pete had been angry and hurt, announcing that he needed time and space away from me to decide what he wanted to do.

He had moved out of our house that very day and into the Duty Consultant's apartment at the hospital where he planned to stay there for the whole of the coming week. After that he would go to Geneva for a week-long conference, an event infamous for its nightly bed-hopping, leaving me 'free and single' for two whole weeks.

During that period I could do whatever I wanted with whoever I wanted to decide which of the men in my life I wanted to be with. If I wanted, for two whole weeks I could live with Tony full time as his wife; just we had dreamed about during our romantic nights away to be sure that the decision I made was the one I really meant.

Of course, at the same time my husband would be deciding whether he could remain married to his lying, cheating wife at all, whatever decision I might make.

When he returned from Geneva, if we both wanted to get back together then we would try to make our marriage work again. If either of us was in any way uncertain, separation and divorce would follow.

To reinforce the gravity of the situation, he had insisted we both handed back our wedding rings. The apparent lightness of my ringless hand and the paleness of the finger where it used to lie were unsettling me greatly.

To my considerable unease, far from being delighted that his professed dream could come true, my lover Tony had been strange and distant. Instead of moving straight into his apartment, falling into his welcoming arms and then into his bed as I had imagined, we had not been together at all since Pete had walked out.

It wasn't Tony's fault; his daughter had come home, he had told me. She was staying in his apartment while she recovered from boyfriend trouble and might be there all week. Obviously her presence made it impossible for me to play the role of her father's wife, but Tony had missed our coffee date the next evening too, sending an excuse at the last moment after I had got myself all dressed to please him.

I had even shaved the Little Pink Pussy that he loved so much in the hope that we might at least get one quick fuck in the back of my car as we had when our affair was brand new.

The idea had been a failure. As a result, my first two nights of freedom had been spent alone in a large, empty house, writing erotic stories on my laptop; putting into the lives of my characters all the sexual excitement that was so obviously and painfully missing from my own.

Late that night I had been forced to resort to my first masturbation in decades to obtain any form of release from the powerful sexual arousal my writing so often produced. I had felt dirty and ashamed when I woke that Tuesday morning, naked apart from my bra, my fingers and thighs a sticky, strong-smelling mess of dried vaginal juices.

Thank God work was busy again, making time pass quickly, barely giving me few moments to think about either of the two men in my life. During those rare moments I called and texted Tony half a dozen times to try and arrange a date. But he didn't answer. As the day progressed, the messages I left degenerated from being warm and sexy highly explicit before finally sounding desperate.

I texted him before and after going to the gym too, but still he didn't reply.

That evening I ate alone, drank most of a bottle of dry white wine, spent several hours writing angrily and frantically then went to bed, aroused and frustrated.

***

I rose very early on Wednesday morning after a third night alone. Still feeling ashamed, I had resisted the urge to masturbate the night before or use the secret vibrator that lay secretly in a shoe box at the bottom of my closet. I suspected that my willpower wouldn't hold out for long.

The unexpected and unwanted pause in my sex life had given me time alone - horribly alone - but strangely had continued to give my writing an impetus it had badly needed. Since my affair had begun and physical pleasures had overtaken literary ones, I had published little and my readers were beginning to drift away.

I badly needed the distraction too, otherwise my early waking would give me even more time to contemplate my position and to wonder what both my husband and my lover were doing, both of which I dreaded.

Why hadn't Tony replied to my messages? Was his phone broken? Lost? I had called his land line too but couldn't leave a message in case his daughter Hannah picked it up. Had she found out about us? Was that what was preventing Tony from coming to me, the woman he had said so often that he loved? That he wanted to marry?

The woman whose current marriage was teetering in the brink because of him?

I wondered what Pete had done the last three nights. Had he found someone to take my place in the narrow single bed in the Duty Consultant's apartment? After all, he believed me to have been living as my lover's wife for the last three days, free to make love with him as long and as often as we wanted.

Why wouldn't he find a replacement for his lying, cheating wife?

The thought of Pete in the arms of another woman was almost too painful to bear. How he had manged to tolerate my rampant infidelity for the last months was beyond me. The mere thought that my husband might be with another woman, holding her hand, kissing her as he had kissed me, fondling her boobs as he had fondled mine was agony. And when I pictured him showing her the wonderful bodily pleasures that his mouth and tongue could deliver and, worst of all, penetrating her with his long, thin cock before filling her vagina with the semen that only my body had known for so many years, the images could and did reduce me to tears.

The sun was only just showing signs of rising as I walked downstairs in my pyjamas and filled the kettle. There were at least two hours to kill before I could contemplate going to work so in desperation, I returned to my laptop and began writing again with a vengeance.

I had always written better in the early hours; over the last two days alone I had finished and published another chapter of my ongoing story and started at least three new projects in different genres as the muse took me.

I had also picked up my stalled correspondence with several of my online friends. I didn't dare tell any of them how bad things had now become. The closest I came was telling with Richard about my plan to spend a week as Tony's wife. Richard had been very unenthusiastic; telling me that his own wife Barbara had once come very close to leaving him and their two kids after one of her many affairs had become a bit too emotionally involved.

Richard had insisted that the only safe way of being a Hotwife was to have a larger number of very short term lovers rather than an ongoing affair, a view wholeheartedly endorsed by most of my online correspondents.

When it came to cuckolding your husband there was, they insisted, safety in numbers for all concerned.

I had known this all along so why in God's name hadn't I listened?

It says a lot about my friends' common sense, even more about my own stubborn nature and more than a little about Tony's sexual prowess in bed that I had ignored this advice completely, carried on with my affair with him alone and had now ended up with the real prospect of my twenty-plus-year-old marriage breaking up.

Fortunately the responses to my other stories were still coming in which helped me feel better about at least one aspect of my life. The trolls who habitually plagued all my postings were backing off a little; they could still hurt me but the messages that came in from my admirers more than made up for that hurt.

I took advantage of every minute to write more and more, trying to block out the terrible thoughts that were spinning around my head, drinking mug after mug of hot tea until it was finally time to getting showered, dressed and try go to work as if nothing had changed.

But as I looked at my bare ring finger and thought of my empty bed, I knew everything had changed.

***

The morning passed slowly. No messages arrived from Pete; this I had expected but the complete absence of communication from the man who had said many times that he loved me was not expected at all.

What problems could his daughter possibly have to demand so much of his attention he couldn't send me even a single message?

Still, I consoled myself, there was well over a week of freedom left. Once Hannah had gone back to University and I had moved into his apartment there was plenty of time to find out what being his wife was like. A warm glow came over me as I imagined how it would feel to fall asleep in his arms, my body full of his sweet semen; to wake up next to his long, strong frame and make soft, caring love in the morning sunlight, our bodies merging into one.

Unable to contain myself, at eleven o'clock I called Tony on my secret phone. He didn't answer so I left a message asking him to call back; to tell me he still loved me; to reassure me that he still wanted me as he had so often said.

By the time I drove home that evening there had still been no reply.

I knew it was foolish but on the way to my house I took a detour, driving past Tony's apartment block. It was a stupid, schoolgirl thing to do; whether he was there or not I would still be upset and had no idea what I might do in any event but I drove there nonetheless.

Tony's car was in its usual parking place; whether that knowledge alone would have made me feel better or worse I will never know because to my horror, parked right next to it was a small family car I recognised immediately as Julie's.

This could only mean one thing; my lover and his estranged wife were in the same apartment together.

I felt sick, my stomach churning with anxiety as I wondered what was happening.

Were they having a row? Were they standing shouting, each blaming the other for the breakdown of their marriage? Was he telling her he wanted a divorce so he could marry me? Were they waving papers at each other, planning a hard, vindictive separation that would reduce them both to paupers and alienate their kids forever?

Or had they become reconciled; the two of them in bed together having make-up sex the like of which I could only dream of? Were they fucking wildly on the bed on which he had fucked me so hard so many times? Had he already left me for her, the woman who had borne his children? Was the reason he hadn't communicated with me that he was too pussy-whipped even to think about me?

Did he not care about me now? Had I jeopardised my marriage for nothing?

A kind of madness took over. I parked my car a few yards away on a road that gave me a clear view of their apartment and for the next few hours I sat in my car, staring at the car park waiting. It grew dark; the lights in Tony's apartment glowed in the lounge but to my relief, not in the bedroom.

What were they doing in there? What was I doing there? What was my husband doing?

Thoughts about my husband Pete began to force their way into my consciousness. As I sat there in the cold car, was at work? Was he having a drink with his colleagues? Was he in alone the Duty Consultant's bedroom?

Or was there a full figured female form alongside him; beneath him, making love with him? Had I already lost him?

The pain was enough to drive a woman crazy and for a few hours that's what I was; insanely jealous of both the men in my life, neither of whom seemed to want me.

It was nearly ten o'clock when I saw Julie return to her car. Her eyes looked red as if she had been crying but I couldn't be sure. Her clothes were rumpled; she was walking stiffly too. I told myself there could be many reasons for this but my mind focussed on only one.

A bolt of pain flashed through me as images of my best friend in bed with my lover filled my mind. It wasn't right! It was me Tony loved now, not her! She was the one who had cheated on him; the one whose very public affair had broken their marriage.

She drove away. For a while I sat and stared at the apartment's glowing windows; the place where my fidelity to my husband had been utterly destroyed; the place where the man I loved had told me he loved me and wanted me so many times.

The lights in the apartment remained on for another half hour before the windows went black.

I drove home, hit the white wine hard on an empty stomach and spent an angry hour writing cruel, unpleasant paragraphs that I knew would never get published but which gradually turned my fury into monstrous arousal.

When I went to bed, the secret vibrator followed me.

In the morning its batteries were flat.

***

I woke the next morning determined; determined to find out what was going on with my lover; determined to get a grip on my life; determined not to become the crazed, jealous woman I had been in my car the previous evening.

To my surprise, the electric phallus had done its job well. As I was still very much alone, only the spiders had heard the drone of the motor and the orgasmic wails that had filled the bedroom for nearly an hour after I had turned off the lights. This was something of a blessing. When finally I could take no more of its relentless stimulation I had fallen into a deep sleep, only waking when the alarm sounded loudly in my ears.

My head was a bit fuzzy from the wine but I felt rather better than I deserved. I showered, dressed and went to work, still very conscious of my ringless finger but with a plan in my mind.

Once at my desk, I got my head down and worked hard all morning, trying to keep thoughts of both the men in my life out of my mind. There were no messages from either of them which helped my efforts but this time I didn't send any either, trying to retain what little remained of my dignity.

The morning passed quickly. Once again, there was no time for lunch.

On Thursdays I spent the afternoon in a University hospital in a nearby city, supervising PhD students and planning the clinical trials that my specialism frequently required. It would be an even better distraction than the morning's work had been and I was looking forward to a change of scene.

As I drove away from the hospital I saw my husband's Porsche in the Consultants' Car Park, low, sleek and green. A wave of emotion washed over me and I had to fight to stop the painful images of him with another woman returning. The woman didn't have a name or a face; it was bad enough that she might exist at all.

For a moment I thought about calling him; asking how he was; searching for clues as to whether my place in his bed had already been filled. But that way led to madness, I told myself. Keep your eyes on the road and concentrate!

It was hard, but for the rest of the day, that's exactly what I did. Fortunately there was a lot to be done at the University and I was kept busy all day, missing lunch again as well as breakfast. It was close to seven o'clock before I was back in my car, driving northwards towards home - towards my empty home.

Tired and in the darkness, the destructive thoughts began to come back but by then I was too worn out to stop them. I turned on the radio for some uplifting music. The world was conspiring against me; within fifteen minutes, special songs from both my marriage and my affair had been played making my chest tight and my eyes sting with the beginnings of tears.

Instead of being liberating, my four days of freedom had been terrible and I was less than half way through Pete's absence - if he came back to me at all.

Right then my husband did not want me and my lover had abandoned me.

Had I already lost them both? I had to know! I had to find out if it was all too late.

***

It was seven-thirty when I parked my SUV around the corner from Julie's house. I didn't want to pull up outside the house and give her time either to make up a story or to hide, pretending she wasn't there. I had no idea what I was going to say but I knew I had to be there, if nothing else to look into her eyes and see what was now there.

It was absurd; Julie had told me openly that she wanted to get back with her husband and as far as I knew she did not know about our affair so why did I feel so angry and betrayed? If I had cause for anger, surely it was with Tony or even myself.

As I rounded the corner on foot, I saw her car in the driveway. She must be home. Checking my make-up and hair in the rear view mirror, I took a deep breath, climbed out of the car, walked up to the front door and, after a long pause to gather my courage, pressed the bell.

Nothing happened. I pressed it again, longer and harder.

"Darren!" I exclaimed.

The door was opened by a tall, very fit, very attractive man in his late twenties; a man I recognised immediately as Darren, a Personal Trainer from the Sports Club to which we had all once belonged. He had instructed me on a handful of occasions; certainly often enough to recognise me after only a moment's hesitation.

He was also Julie's supposedly former live-in lover. He looked surprised to see me; surprised and embarrassed to see anyone in fact.

"Hi Penny," he said awkwardly.

"Hi," I replied, for a moment taken off guard. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

He shrugged sulkily, "I'm picking up a few things."

So it was true; Julie and he had indeed parted ways. I had suspected my friend was trying to keep her lover on a string so she wouldn't be left without male company if her husband wouldn't have her back. It seemed I had been wronged.