Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 22-29

My knees were literally trembling and I felt physically sick when five o'clock finally arrived and I began the walk through long corridors to the hospital's back door. As soon as I stepped outside I could see Pete's car already in the car park and my heart pounded.

I drew a deep breath and stepped forward, guilt making convincing me with every step that everyone who saw me could tell what I was thinking and knew what I was planning to do that night. It was all I could manage not to run but I kept control somehow, reached the car, pulled open the door and slipped into the passenger seat next to my husband, my heart thumping so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

Dazed, I felt Pete's lips on my right cheek and fastened my seat belt.

"Okay Penn?" he asked quietly.

"O...kay!" I replied nervously.

Then without another word he pulled out of the car park and we were on our way to Manchester.

Chapter 24

Some people talk too much when they're nervous. Pete and I are the opposite; we tend to retreat into ourselves and silence descends. With such a momentous event ahead, we had been on the road for a long time into our journey before either of us spoke, both preoccupied by what the evening might or might not have instore for us.

I can't be sure what was going through my husband's mind, but my belly was alive with butterflies and my feet were getting colder all the time. More than once I was tempted to ask Pete to call the whole thing off; to chicken out now before it got too weird and too serious.

But then I remembered that, although most of the promised physical pleasure would be mine, the planned event was in fact for my wonderful, patient, long-suffering husband who so far had enjoyed little benefit from our supposed new Hot Wife and Cuckold lifestyle.

But paying for sex?

Although the idea of using escorts had been mine -- well, the idea of one of my online friends - now the reality was only hours away, it seemed so sordid and dirty. I tried to think about the couple's website and the warm professionalism it projected.

Adam and Eve; their attractive bodies, albeit with pixelated faces. The warm biography on the site and above all, the very positive, reassuring feedback posted on the site from clients - clients who sounded not unlike Pete and me.

It would be okay, I told myself over and over again. Sex without love or even the passion of seduction might actually be better in some ways.

I thought about our friends, my work colleagues and finally our three children. What would they think or say if they knew their mother was going to be fucked by a complete, much younger stranger? And all so their father could watch and join in if he wanted?

"What's the joke?" Pete asked slightly nervously, breaking the silence for the first time in fifty miles.

"Hmm?"

"You were grinning all over your face!" he smiled.

"I was thinking what Izzy might say," I told him truthfully.

"I was wondering that too," Pete replied. "That girl needs to lighten up; let her hair down a bit. Be a bit more open-minded about things. What's the matter?"

Pete had seen me almost choke at his words. He was puzzled, but then I had gone to great lengths to keep the knowledge of his precious daughter's sexual history away from her innocent father's ears. Pete still knew nothing about Izzy's pregnancy scare, the way she had cheated so openly on her boyfriend, her new nickname or the homemade sex videos in which she had apparently starred.

As far as her father knew, Isobel Barker was still as pure as the driven snow.

I sighed as our car crossed the stark but beautiful high moors of the peak district.

"How long until we get there?"

"Getting impatient?" my husband Pete asked with a smile, pressing hard on the accelerator and overtaking a slow-moving tractor on the winding, picturesque road.

I sat back in my seat and watched the scenery go past. The Peak District was its usual impressive bland of dark rocky crags and open pastures as we crossed in the evening sunshine. The atmosphere in the car was tense but it was with excitement rather than fear or hostility.

Whatever did or did not happen in the privacy of our hotel room, it was a long time since we had enjoyed a romantic weekend away together. If I chickened out, we would at least enjoy two nights in a five-star hotel in the centre of Manchester with its good food, galleries and interesting surroundings.

But if all went to plan, in only a few hours' time my husband would be right there in the room watching as before his eyes, Doctor Penny Barker PhD, his wife of over twenty years, the mother of his three children and about to bear a fourth, was fucked senseless by a good-looking, professional bull.

"How do you feel about it now it's actually happening?" Pete eventually asked, his voice unconvincingly casual.

"Nervous," was all I could muster in reply.

"Having second thoughts?"

"No! Well yes but... I don't know," I gabbled.

"You don't want me to turn round and go home?" he asked half-jokingly, putting his hand on my thigh.

The idea did have an appeal but instead I took his fingers in mine and squeezed.

"Not unless you want to," I said, looking into what I could see of his face. "You're sure you can handle it?"

He laughed hollowly.

"I'm nowhere near sure but if you're prepared to give it a try, then so am I."

Silence descended again as I sat back in my seat gain and half-listened to the radio. My head was full of doubts, misgivings, desires and lusts along with a sense of disbelief that it was all really happening.

Were we crazy? We must have been crazy just to think of it but were we really crazy enough to go through with it?

I wasn't at all sure but the minutes before I had to make a decision were ticking away as we descended from the moors and began to approach the big city. I fidgeted in my seat, my body betraying me by beginning to lubricate merely at the thought of what was ahead.

"It will be okay," Pete reassured me as we made our way through the half-built regeneration schemes that dominate whole sections of the outskirts. "No, it will be better than okay; it will be fantastic. And I'll be there all the time remember? You'll be perfectly safe."

"You're sure they don't know who we really are?" I asked anxiously for the umpteenth time.

"Certain! No more than we know who they really are. I used a fake email address and a pay-as-you-go phone."

Jesus! Pete really had thought this out!

"Just don't get so carried away that you use our real names."

Although our soon-to-be partners called themselves Adam and Eve, these were so obviously professional names that Pete and I had decided not to use our real names either. In fact, to make things even more fun and illicit, we had decided to use false names with each other from the moment I stepped into the car.

Pete had decided to call himself John; an unimaginative choice if ever there was one as I pointed out teasingly. When he asked what he should call me, in haste I had chosen the first female name that came to mind, the central character from one of my favourite erotic stories.

I was therefore to be Alice all weekend.

Although my husband knew nothing about this, the idea of becoming a character in one of my own stories was giving me a massive thrill, especially given what Alice had got up to in those tales!

For safety's sake, the plan was for us to meet our intended partners first for drinks in the hotel bar to get to know each other and see if Pete and I -- John and I - still felt the same. After that, if we still wanted to go ahead, we would go up to the room my husband had booked and take it from there.

Although we had both agreed we would feel safer and more confident meeting a couple on our first joint date, Pete had told them that he didn't expect to be involved with the wife to any great extent. The date was first and foremost for 'Adam' to give me the fucking of my life in front of him.

For this reason Pete had chosen the couple in their forties.

From all I had seen online, they both looked very attractive. Well-muscled, toned, with strong legs and tight buttocks, Adam's physique had made me tingle even from his pictures. He had been working as an escort for a good few years and was described as 'VWE' (Very Well Endowed - more jargon I had learned).

I noticed that his supposed wife 'Eve' was short, blonde, full figured and big-breasted -- the antithesis of my tall, dark, skinny, flat-chested physique. Was my husband unintentionally sending me a message here I wondered?

As we passed through the busy streets with my hands on my pregnant belly, along with increasing fear, excitement and arousal, many thoughts passed through my mind, most of them troubling.

Pete was right; there wasn't much time left before our lives were turned upside down. In a few weeks I would be able to feel the baby move. A short time after that my pregnancy would be impossible to hide and we would have to decide on and stick to our story no matter what our family and friends said.

It would be tough. I frowned at the thought.

The odds against a man's vasectomy spontaneously failing in his fifties and him subsequently fertilising a peri-menopausal woman of the same age would make even the most pessimistic bookie smile. Our medical friends would know this; most would jump to conclusions, all would be scandalised.

Though those conclusions and scandal would be sensational and wide of the mark, the alternative of voluntarily making our lifestyle public was too terrible to imagine.

Some friends would guess I had had an affair; some might even think they knew who with. They might possibly be right, at least about my first extra-marital lover but they would be wrong about the father of my child.

But that was little help.

The bigger worry by far was what our children would think. The two boys were busy getting on with their lives and wouldn't notice until Pete and I had got our story together. But after the phone calls I had had with our daughter Isobel recently, we did not have the luxury of time as far as she was concerned.

Izzy-Oh-God, our intellectually bright but sexually stupid daughter; the female star of at least one poor quality and increasingly well-distributed homemade porn movie, would be coming back home as soon as her exams were finished.

Given her new and well-deserved reputation, her head should be distinctly bowed but I knew that would not prevent her passing judgement on her parents.

I told myself firmly that the disapprobation would eventually pass. What would come next would last a lifetime. If nature permitted, in a few short months the baby would be born and the freedom Pete and I had enjoyed as adults would be over.

But before all that happened we had a few precious week to have fulfil the fantasy that had dominated Pete and my sex life for over two years. If things went well, the next few hours would herald my overdue, short-lived and highly improbable return to the life of a Hot Wife.

And the fulfilment of Pete's deepest sexual fantasies.

***

Eventually the tall, grand if ageing buildings of the city centre surrounded us and we pulled into our hotel's car park. Pete killed the engine and we sat back in our seats in silence.

"Well, we're here," he said quietly. "Are you okay... Alice?"

I didn't reply. Instead I took a deep breath and slowly climbed out of the car, my tummy alive with nerves as Pete lifted our bags from the car's boot.

We had arrived!

The hotel was one of Manchester's grandest and had been recently refurbished. All the public rooms were huge and designed to impress; I had stayed there once before for one of my interminable conferences and remembered with relief just how anonymous one could be in such a place.

Pete and I checked in under our real names without incident though throughout the process I felt guiltily certain that the hotel staff could see right through me and that they all knew exactly what I was there to do.

Declining help with the bags, Pete picked up them both and guided me to the lift. As we ascended to our floor, the mirrors on the walls showed the reflection of a skinny, anxious-looking woman, definitely in her fifties alongside a handsome, professional-looking man who could have been five years or more her junior.

To my mind there was guilt written all over my face. Then I felt Pete taking my hand.

"Relax! You look great. You'll look even better soon. Trust me; it'll all be okay."

A minute later we were in our room with the door closing silently but firmly behind us.

I looked nervously around the place in which, if all went well, would be the scene of my latest and most extraordinary sexual exploit; the place where, for the first time, my husband would watch me having sex with a stranger.

I have to say I was impressed. Pete had really pushed the boat out and booked a mini suite. The room was very large, furnished in a modern style with plenty of dark wood and pale fabric. It felt warm and luxurious. There were two full size double beds against one long wall, an open area with a television, sofas and a mini bar and through another door was a huge bath and shower room with 'his and hers' sinks and mirrors.

"How much did this cost?" I asked as I inspected everything.

"Never mind!" he grinned. "I thought we should play safe and go for the best. I didn't want our first time to be anywhere dark and squalid. Besides, there'll be four of us in here and we might need a bit of space."

My tummy rumbled nervously again. What on earth might we get up to that would need two double beds and a small lounge?

There was a table in one corner on which stood a beautiful display of flowers, a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two tall flute glasses. I looked at the card with the flowers.

'To Alice and X from John. With all my love and adoration.'

I smiled at my husband then crossed over and kissed him on the lips.

"And X?" I raised my eyebrows in question.

Pete simply put his hand on his tummy and I understood. He meant the baby.

"You are a very special man," I told him, kissing him again.

Pete opened the bottle and poured two foaming glasses.

"To another first?" he proposed the toast.

"For us both," I agreed.

Pete clinked his glass against mine and took a long sip. The champagne was, as I had expected, superb and must have cost a small fortune. A second sip confirmed this. In my condition, I knew I shouldn't be drinking at all, but this was only one evening. Given everything else that might happen, a single glass of champagne seemed an acceptable risk.

We began to unpack and get ready, the atmosphere between us growing almost electrically sexual. I could feel Pete's eyes burning into my back as I removed from my bag and lay neatly on the bed the tiny cream satin lingerie we had chosen for me to wear and the hold-up stockings to go with it.

Unsurprisingly, neither of us had much of an appetite so we asked room service to bring up a few nibbles and a club sandwich for us to share. Pete pecked at his when it arrived a short time later; I was too nervous to eat even that much and left most of my food untouched.

Our bags emptied and placed in the corner of the room, Pete went into the en suite and ran me a deep bath, taking maximum advantage of the expensive, perfumed toiletries alongside. I stripped slowly to my underwear, hanging up my work clothes carefully in the room's closet.

"You are such a sexy piece, Alice!"

Pete's voice was low and lustful. For a moment I wondered whether he was having the same second doubts that filled my mind but his next words ended that speculation.

"I can't wait to see that amazing body being fucked!"

There was no adequate response to this; I just smiled then slowly walked through to the waiting, foaming tub. Closing but not locking the door behind me, I stripped off my remaining clothes, gingerly lowered myself into the water then tried to relax.

The bath was warm and deep and began to work its magic. Slowly but surely my heartbeat returned to something approaching normal and I began to soap myself indulgently.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

Pete opened it with his foot and entered bearing my champagne glass. He handed it to me with an admiring smile then left me alone again.

Again, the thought that no pregnant woman should drink alcohol flashed through my mind. But I knew the evening wouldn't go smoothly without at least a hint of Dutch courage. Besides it hadn't been an issue with my previous pregnancies.

I sipped the bubbly fluid slowly as I carefully washed and shaved my arms, legs and vulva, taking extra care to catch every loose pubic hair on my mound and around my slit. It was fiddly work but when I had finished my flesh was as smooth as it had ever been - if a little sore, pink and highly sensitised.

After washing my hair and drying myself I moisturised carefully, especially where the razor had done it work. I shivered with pleasure as I rubbed the cool fluid between my thighs and on my lower belly then pulled on the hotel's white fluffy bathrobe and returned into the bedroom.

Pete looked at me admiringly then smiled and went into the en-suite himself. A moment later I heard the shower running. I sat at the large dresser to dry and straighten my hair.

He had finished in the shower long before I was ready, had dried himself and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. As he entered the bedroom I was amused to see it was already noticeably tented. He stood so close to me that the air from my dryer was ruffling the hair on his tummy and chest.

"Do you need some help with that, John?" I asked, nodding towards the bulge in his towel.

"I'd better save it till later, Alice," he smiled. "You never know when it might come in handy."

Suddenly it all felt a lot more real again and my heart thumped in my chest.

What do a husband and wife talk about as they get ready for the wife to be fucked by a stranger? It wasn't something either of us had encountered before so, not knowing what else to say to each other, Pete watched me get dressed in near silence.

He looked on spellbound as I slowly pulled the cream satin panties up my skinny, freshly-shaved legs then stared silently on as I covered my tiny boobs with the matching bra.

"Would you like to help me?" I asked, remembering some of the things my online cuckolds had advised.

I didn't need the help and we both knew it, but it felt right for him to play a part in preparing me for my lover. Without a word, Pete fastened the clasp of my bra behind my back.

"Would you pass my stockings?"

Pete handed them to me slowly and silently. Sitting on the dresser's stool I slowly pulled on the white lace-topped hold-ups -- Pete's favourites - then, as he brushed his hair and pulled on his underwear, I sat at the dressing table with my make-up ranged out before me, carefully doing what was necessary to make me feel a little less human and, I hoped a lot more sexy.

I had decided that Alice's cheeks should look slightly more tanned than Penny's, her eyes slightly darker and bigger. Her lips would be redder too and glossed in a way pregnant Penny seldom chose but which I imagined sexy Alice would enjoy routinely.

It was beginners' psychology; in a crude way trying to distance Penny the real-life mother and wife from Penny the unfaithful, cuckolding slut but in a strange way, it did help.

The job finally done, I stood up, slipped on my heels then looked at myself and my lingerie in the full length mirror on the closet door, turning from left to right and back.

At first glance I thought I didn't look too bad for a woman in her fifties, but then I noticed the slight sag in my buttocks, the evidence of cellulite and the small but by now distinctive bulge in my lower belly. I didn't need to look to know there were stretch marks down there too.