Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 30-32

Sadly, my face had more lines than it used to and the darkness in my hair came out of a bottle these days but as Pete said, pregnancy had softened my complexion and had made my hair glossier than it had been in years. So, with the slightly uneasy feeling that I was mutton dressed as lamb, I had thrown caution to the winds and gone out dressed as I had dressed when I was first pregnant, over twenty-five years ago.

Together and often holding hands, we visited markets, villages, bars, restaurants, marinas and ancient ruins. Although at first, I was very conscious that the slightest lapse of concentration might display my knickers to the watching world, I had nonetheless gone ahead and soon began to enjoy the frisson of risk, safe in the knowledge that no-one we knew was anywhere nearby.

We went to the seaside, to the lavender fields, to local fetes and fireworks. I had forgotten how much I loved the way my husband looked when he was really relaxed. Away from the demands of his work and with the decisions about our future made, Pete seemed at least ten years younger than he had only a week before.

With the unfairness of life, his greying hair simply made him look more rugged or distinguished, depending on what he was wearing. The tailored tee and polo shirts he usually wore showed off his gym-toned chest and arms delightfully but it was the way his thigh-length shorts displayed his tight buttocks and well-formed thighs that made my heart thump in my chest.

The pangs of jealousy that flashed through me when I saw other women my age and younger giving him a second, then a third good look were disturbing but no more than I deserved.

Sometimes when I looked at him and lay beneath him, I could not imagine why I had ever wanted another man in my bed. Then I would remember the weekend in Manchester and the answer would become obvious, as would the damp patch in my knickers that invariably followed such vivid memories.

Occasionally I wondered if I had dreamed the last nine months but then I would catch sight of myself reflected in a shop window, see the swelling in my belly and reality would flood back into me.

Now, a week into our fortnight break, we were stuck in traffic again, this time returning from a daytrip to visit the ancient papal city of Avignon. I stared out of the window and tried not to think of the full bladder being slowly squeezed by the weight of the baby above it.

"Are you okay?" Pete asked as we crawled forwards in the traffic.

"I could do with the loo," I replied, fidgeting in my seat.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Bad!"

"There's an exit ahead," he smiled. "Let's go and have dinner there and let all this lot clear a bit."

"I'm hardly dressed for dinner, Pete," I protested, indicating the over-tight, under-length dress I was wearing.

Pete had persuaded me to wear it on the basis that in Avignon absolutely no-one would know us. It had given both of us a sexual thrill throughout the day's visit, but the slightest misjudged movement would reveal my white knickers to the watching world.

"I know," he shrugged. "But we can't sit in this queue all day, can we? Not with you needing a pee every twenty minutes."

It was nowhere near that often but Pete was right; I would just have to take extra care.

We drove down the hard shoulder, attracting the anger and envy of other trapped motorists then pulled off at the next exit.

***

"Was it this good with Julie?"

The question was a surprise, even though it was me who had asked it. Perhaps I was just thinking aloud; perhaps it had been subconsciously on my mind for a long time, perhaps my pregnancy was making me feel insecure but as Pete and I lay together in bed on our last night on holiday, our bodies like two spoons in a drawer, post-orgasmic aftershocks pulsing through me, the dreamy words came unbidden.

"I can't believe you asked that!"

My husband's voice was sharp, as if shocked. And so he might be given I had just asked about the sex he had enjoyed with my closest female friend during what I believed to be his only act of infidelity in the whole of our relationship.

"I mean is she better at.. doing it than I am?"

The tables really were turned. When our Hot Wife relationship had started it had been Pete who was constantly asking how his size and performance in bed compared with those of my lovers. Now that we had discovered anal sex and I could be all but stupefied by the orgasms it produced, a new, powerful and unfamiliar element of sexual and emotional insecurity on my part was making its presence felt on a regular basis.

Its emergence was no doubt helped by the feelings of vulnerability all pregnant women feel at some time but having spent most of the last year sleeping with men other than my husband, in my case it felt doubly unnerving.

"There's no way I'm going to answer that," Pete mumbled into the back of my head. "There's no answer that won't get me into big trouble."

Although it had been a one-night encounter, my friend had dropped hints a few times that my husband's performance in her bed had been impressive. I knew for a fact she had introduced him to the pleasures of anal sex; pleasures that had just rendered me a helpless, quivering wreck so it wasn't entirely surprising that my dazed mind had wandered in her direction.

"Pete I..." I protested.

"It was a mistake on both our parts," he said quietly. "I admit it was pleasant while it was happening but afterwards, we both knew it wasn't right."

"Was it just pleasant?" I whined.

"Okay, it was very pleasant. Very pleasant indeed. Does that satisfy you?" he frowned.

It didn't of course; in fact it made things much worse but having started the conversation I couldn't stop myself however painful it was.

"She told me you were good," I said quietly as if not really wanting to hear myself.

"That's nice of her," Pete replied, equally quietly.

"Did you make her cum?"

"Penny!"

"Come on Pete. I tell you everything. It's only fair!"

He frowned then took a deep breath.

"Okay then; it looked like it she came," he said. "Several times. But she might have been faking it. Girls sometimes do I understand."

The look on his face was at least a half-serious accusation.

"Does she cum easily? Does she cum hard?"

"For God's sake, Penn!"

"Please Pete. I've told you all about me."

He took a deep breath.

"Yes, she cums easily and hard," he sighed. "But she has a bit of a head start."

I frowned.

"What sort of head start?"

He took another deep breath.

"You really want to know?"

"Of course."

"Well, she's got a bit of mechanical assistant."

"A vibrator you mean?" I suggested.

"No. I mean she's got a piercing," he said slowly.

"Where?"

"Down there," he looked embarrassed.

This was a real shock.

"Where down there?" I demanded.

"Through her hood."

"Christ! Really?"

"Really!"

This was almost as amazing news as her having left her husband for her twenty-nine-year-old Personal Trainer all those months ago. Despite Julie being my closest female friend, I had had no idea she had been so bold or, if I'm honest, so slutty.

"What's it like?" I demanded, stunned.

"It's like a gold bar with a ball on each end," Pete told me.

"How big is it?"

Pete held his fingers about half an inch apart.

"Which way does it go; side to side?"

Pete shook his head.

"From top to bottom."

"Wow!"

"That's what I thought," Pete said guiltily.

There was a long pause before I asked.

"Do men find that sort of thing sexy?"

"I suppose it's sexy in itself," Pete replied thoughtfully. "But it's what it signifies that's most important."

I leaned closer and looked hard at my embarrassed husband.

"Go on!"

"Well it kind of suggests that the girl is really into sex; recreational sex too, not deep meaningful relationships."

"And...?" I prompted.

"And that she's a bit of a slut -- or at least that she's can be dirty when she wants to."

"And that turns you on?"

"I'm only human," he admitted.

I lay back on the pillow, my head spinning. This was a revelation indeed. For a few minutes I let the thoughts run round and round in my mind.

"Do you fantasise about her?" I eventually asked.

"Penny!"

"Do you?" I insisted.

There was a pause.

"I mostly fantasise about you and your lovers, but I suppose sometimes I do think about her," he admitted.

"Huh!" I snorted, grossly unfairly given my own history.

"But remember; whatever she and I did, it's you I love," he insisted.

I rolled over and kissed him hard on the lips. Pete recoiled in surprise.

"What was that for?" he asked with a grin.

"You were wrong," I murmured in reply.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that's about the only answer that won't get you into trouble!"

"Good!" he grinned back.

I slid my hand down his chest and across his flat stomach and found what I expected to find.

"You're hard again already!" I said accusingly.

"I can't deny it when it's in your hand."

"Is that because you've been thinking of her?"

"Maybe."

"It's very hard too," I told him truthfully. "Even by your standards."

"If you say so."

"Do I make you as hard as she does?"

"Penny!"

"Tell me, Pete," I insisted, squeezing his shaft even tighter.

"Okay.. you make me even harder! Will that do?"

"Prove it!"

"Penny!"

"Prove it Pete; fuck me like you fucked her!"

"What if it hurts?"

"I don't care!"

And I didn't care. I didn't care when he rolled me onto my front, my belly crushed against the rumpled sheet. I didn't care when he rose over me, spreading my legs wide with his knees. I didn't care when he pulled my arms back and held my hands at the small of my back.

I made no objection when the head of his cock stabbed clumsily at my slit from behind, battering my clitoris as it sought eagerly for my entrance. Instead I raised and tilted my hips as much as Pete's oppressive weight on my back would allow until my vagina was presented in a way he could penetrate freely.

And penetrate he did! With a force that drove me physically up the bed and forced my face into the pillow, Pete slammed his long sim cock deep into my recently-used body with the power and energy of a man half his age.

And, slut as I am, I was in a position to know this first hand!

There was no love in our copulation; no meeting of minds or souls. The raw sexual energy released was both exciting and frightening at the same time, reminding me why I had fallen for this amazing man so many years ago.

Driven by our combined lust, Pete dominated me completely, his thrusts hard, deep and irresistible. Helpless beneath my husband, I gave myself to him completely, amazed and delighted that I could still evoke such passion in the man I loved.

I made no objection when he pulled himself out of my vagina and forced himself into my rectum, though the lack of lubrication made the penetration painful. I did not react when I felt the pressure of his forearm on my shoulders, pinning me down as his thrusts grew faster and faster and his climax approached.

There was too much discomfort for me to reach orgasm myself, but the sensations were extraordinary. Knowing I was experiencing what my closest female friend had experienced during my husband's only night of infidelity was such an intense pleasure in itself that in a dazed way, I began to understand something of the pleasure my husband had derived from my own cheating.

"Going. To. Cum!" Pete growled in the height of his passion.

"Do it!" I croaked, pleased that the discomfort emanating from my ravaged anus might soon end.

"Where. Do you. Want it?"

Knowing my overwhelming predilection for full-on vaginal insemination, Pete was not too far gone to ask. But this time it was different; what I wanted was to know what Julie knew; to experience what she had experienced.

"Cum. Where you. Came in her," I panted in time with the rhythm of his thrusts.

There were barely seconds to wonder where that might be before Pete's climax fell upon him and, as I had imagined, he began to ejaculate deep in my rectum. The force of his final, uncontrolled thrusts drove me hard into the mattress, the thicker base of his shaft grinding hard against my sensitive anus but once again, I did not care.

For what seemed an age, Pete's cock throbbed and pulsed in my rectum, filling my back passage with his seedless semen as the full weight of his masculine body pressed me into the bed. But eventually the throbbing came to an end, he released my pinned wrists and took more of his weight on his arms and knees.

"Christ!" he exclaimed.

There was nothing I could think of to say, but I could feel his erection beginning to soften inside me.

"Are you okay Penn?"

I nodded as he slowly and carefully pulled his cock from my body then rolled onto his back alongside me. I rolled from my front to my back, wincing a little as my buttocks closed on my violated anus.

"Did it hurt?" he asked.

"A little."

"Sorry. But you did say you wanted to know..."

"What you and Julie did? I know."

"Well, that was it! Well, part of it."

Right then I didn't want to know what the rest was. The thought that another woman could bring so much passion from my husband was alarming enough. I should have been more careful what I wished for.

"But it's not going to happen again," he insisted. "However good it felt, it was a mistake. It's you I love."

As I lay there, pregnant and with Pete's semen beginning to ooze from my bottom, that was some comfort.

"Now we'd better get some sleep," he added. "We've got a tough week ahead."

"Hmm?"

"Think about it! The rumours will have been flying while we've been away. By the time we arrive home tomorrow, everyone will have heard you're pregnant, a dozen different stories will be circulating about how it happened and all facts will have gone out of the window. We'll have to try and get on with our lives with all this going on around us."

He was right, though the rumours wouldn't be anything like as outrageous as the truth, they would still be hard to deal with. There was only one response I could make.

"Shit! You're right!"