Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 49: Exposed

That thought led to many disturbing images.

Before long, I could not stop imagining that pictures of me really had been posted either by one of my lovers or, God help me, by my own husband, and were even now circulating among lovers of the older female form.

Although I had no real reason to believe it had ever happened, to my shame, far from making me horrified, the idea of strange men drooling over my skinny body and telling my husband how and where they would like to touch or even fuck me made me even more aroused.

If posting a wife's picture was vicarious cuckolding, wanting to be that wife had to be vicarious exhibitionism. But in my near constant state of semi-arousal, I couldn't help wondering over and over again what those unknown and unseen men might say about me or want to do with me.

Every time I was invited into a chatroom and shown pictures of a new girl, I couldn't stop imagining that somewhere in the vastness of the internet, a group of men were watching pictures of me.

My emotions slowly changed from fear and revulsion to intrigue, from intrigue to arousal, then finally from arousal to desire.

Slowly but inexorably, the idea became an obsession.

Another step on the road to Hell had been taken.

***

"It's no use. I'm sorry Penn!"

Pete sighed. I looked up at his handsome face as it gazed down over his athletic chest and flat tummy at my face. His half erect cock still in my mouth, I gazed as sexily as I could into his eyes and saw the sadness that seemed to have crept into him over the past few weeks.

"You'll be okay," I reassured him, returning to the task in hand, or rather, between my lips.

For a few more minutes I devoted my full attention to my husband's cock, licking, sucking, massaging and squeezing in what was beginning to feel a futile attempt to produce an erection firm enough to penetrate my body.

After so many evenings and nights unsatisfied and frustrated, I needed that penetration so badly.

Thanks to all I had learned from my lovers, I knew my oral skills were at least competent. Licking along the ridge underneath his shaft and around the valley beneath his smooth head while pumping him firmly could usually guarantee a rock-hard erection, but even that technique seemed no longer to work.

I raised my face from his groin with a rueful smile.

"You're tired. You're working too hard," I said, trying not to let my disappointment show.

"Sorry," Pete said again. "It's not you..."

I looked at the flaccid collection of male genitalia in my hand and toyed with it. Pete's long, slim cock had been an unusually dark pink even before my ministrations had begun. Now it looked angry and sore. His scrotum flopped loosely on his upper thighs too instead of being the tight pink sack that usually adorned the base of his shaft.

The feeling of disappointment was hard to conceal but I tried my best.

"Perhaps if we talk about your fantasies?" I suggested. "You haven't asked me to fuck other men for so long..."

Pete forced a smile.

"You're right. I haven't."

"Do you still like the idea?" I carried on, still slowly pumping. "Still want to be married to a Hot Wife?"

"It still has a certain appeal," he admitted.

I could feel the slightest stirring in my fist, proving his last statement.

"Still want other men to see my body? Still want me to dress in those short, short dresses when we go out?"

His cock became just a little bit firmer. I was on the right track.

"Still want me to show off my breasts to strangers, like I did on the beach France? Still like having other men's eyes all over them, making my nipples so, so hard?"

'Yes!" he hissed, his cock responding even better.

"Still want to ask one of them to fuck me? To make you the cuckold you need to be?"

"God yes!"

"Want me to get ready for him? To style my hair for him? To shave my body for him?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"Want him to strip me naked in front of you? Want him to touch my breasts, my nipples, between my thighs?"

"Mmmm!"

"Want to see me on my knees, sucking his cock? Making him hard enough to fuck me? Want to see me gag on his long thick shaft like the dirty cocksucking slut you made me?"

"Yes Penny! You are a Slut! You are a dirty cocksucking slut!"

Pete's own cock was nearly fully erect now, his sack tightening nicely at its base. It was almost ready to enter my body but there was still a little way to go.

"Want to see me open my legs for him, Pete?"

"Spread your legs, slut!"

"Want to see him mount me?"

"Yes!"

"Want to ask him to fuck me?"

"Yes!"

"Ask him, Pete!"

"Fuck her! Fuck my slut wife!"

The shaft in my hand was rock hard now, its smooth head swollen and rounded.

"Want to see another man's cock in my cunt, Pete?"

Despite his arousal, Pete still winced at my use of the 'c' word.

"YESSS!"

Without either speaking or breaking eye contact, I rose to my knees on the bed then slowly lifted one leg and mounted him, one knee either side of his waist, his fully erect cock rubbing against the cleft between my buttocks.

Then I reached behind my back, grasped its tip in my fingers and guided it carefully into the mouth of my slowly descending entrance.

"Mmmmm!"

Pete sighed as I lowered myself onto him, his long, slender cock sliding easily its full length into my loose, open, highly lubricated vagina.

Milk dripped from my tiny, middle-aged boobs as the base of my buttocks settled on my husband's hips and his erect cock forced my cervix high into my belly. I reached for his hands; Pete lifted them to mine and our fingers interlocked.

"What do you want him to do Pete?"

"Fuck you. I want him to fuck you!"

I wriggled forwards and backwards a few times, adjusting the position of Pete's cock within me, making sure my lubrication was well spread and at the same time, rubbing my already-engorged clitoris against his shaft.

"Fuck me where, Pete?"

"Your cunt. I want him to fuck your cunt!"

I began to rub myself against him more energetically, tilting and flexing my hips as I rose and fell on my knees.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

The base of my buttocks struck the top of Pete's thighs over and over again, accompanied by the deep, earthier sounds of two middle aged bodies colliding, my poor cervix taking a pounding his Pete's head with every downwards stroke.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

I gripped his hands tighter. Even after three babies and four lovers, the strength of feeling I had for this man was still intense.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

"God that's good!" Pete gasped.

"You like the way my cunt feels on your cock?" I growled.

"God yes!"

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

"Better for having been had so many other cocks inside it?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

"You want it to feel even more cocks, Pete?"

"Yes! Many more!"

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

"You want your wife to be a slut again? You want to watch me being fucked again?"

"Yes! A slut! I want you to be a slut!"

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

I could tell Pete was nearing his climax. In a very short time, yet another dose of semen would burst forth from the end of his familiar cock and be sprayed across my cervix.

Although I knew I would not reach orgasm, it still felt so good to have my husband's erect cock deep inside me again; to feel the love and closeness that had been lacking for the last few weeks.

"Tell me! Tell me!" I panted in time with my rising and falling.

"I'm going to cum, Slut!"

"Where Pete? Where are you going to cum?"

"In your cunt! In your big, wet, sloppy, slutty cunt!"

My chest went tight with arousal. No matter how often I heard those words, they still invoked the animal in me; the wild, feral creature whose sole purpose in life was to have sex and make babies.

"Do it Pete!" I growled as I reached as close to orgasm as I was going to reach. "Cum in me now!"

"MmmmmMMM!"

I could feel the cock inside me beginning to throb and pulsate and knew that the first rope of semen was only seconds away.

"Do it Pete! Cum in me! Cum in your slut wife's cunt!"

I looked wide eyed into my husband's face as he began to ejaculate inside me, his features screwed up with the force of his climax.

Though deprived of the orgasm I still needed, it felt good to be able to bring my husband such obvious pleasure and besides, I could always finish myself off with my fingers or toys once Pete had fallen asleep.

After all, it was what my sex life mostly consisted of these days.

***

'Hmmmmm'

The desktop computer was taking a frustratingly long time to boot up.

It was the following Monday, Pete wasn't due home until evening, so while Leanne was having her morning nap, I sat at the study desk, my heart beating hard and a feeling of guilt flowing through me. Choosing my moment had been easy; deciding to bite the bullet and do it had been much harder.

Unsure what I expected to find and apprehensive about what I might actually discover, I began to go through the most promising directories of photographs in the family archive that I could find, in search of any evidence that my images had been shared online.

Although my mind told me it was foolish; that I would find nothing and should want to find nothing, my body was sending completely different messages. My body was telling me in no uncertain terms that it wanted to have been exposed; that it wanted men to have drooled and lusted over it and, just in case the message wasn't clear enough, it was lubricating for all it was worth into my panties to make sure I understood.

My understanding of computers was limited, but I had sat by Pete often enough to have picked up a few techniques and was using them to the best of my ability.

To my disappointment, the most careful analysis of all the browser histories revealed only my own forays into the world of online sex. This proved nothing of course; Pete could have used his laptop or just cleaned out the evidence afterwards, but it soon became clear there was nothing to find.

There was nothing in his favourites either so, frustrated, I turned my attention to the photographs themselves.

Apart from holiday snaps, I had taken only limited interest in photography and as far as I knew, my husband's interest went little further. I did know that he stored the main archive on our study desktop computer's hard drive; he had proudly told me how it was backed up to the cloud every day so we would never lose a cherished picture of the kids when they were young.

So I began to search.

Despite Pete's pleasingly efficient, carefully dated file organisation, it was still a daunting task. Tens of thousands of images went back several decades, and I had few ideas where to look - but I was determined.

There was no sign of any directory either named or dated on or around our two Manchester weekends. I searched for images created on those dates too but again found none. Either the explicit files were hidden, encrypted or Pete was keeping them safely elsewhere.

I was just about to give up and do some ironing when as a last thought, I looked for recently used files and directories. There I found a series of filenames which I could see were photos.

I clicked on the first file. It opened and I sat back in my chair in surprise.

The picture on screen had clearly been taken during our holiday in France the previous year; an image of me in my bikini by our cottage's private swimming pool that I did not know even existed.

It seemed innocuous; lying on my side in the sun, my tiny yellow bikini revealing rather more fifty-year-old flesh that was perhaps wise, but it was in no way pornographic. Pete must have taken it while I was dozing, or perhaps when he had been concealed by the cottage's blue shuttered doors.

I found the directory in which the picture was stored; it contained at least two dozen other pictures.

Intrigued and excited, I clicked on a few other filenames to find more images, all of me, all taken by the pool. My legs looked long but incredibly skinny, my bottom bony. In every case, the words that most accurately described the images were 'revealing' and 'sexy' -- at least what qualified as sexy for a woman my age and body shape.

I clicked through a few more, to find myself in the same bikini but this time on my back.

I shuddered with embarrassment as I saw my swollen, bare, obviously pregnant belly exposed to the sun's rays in all its naked glory. Though taut, the skin on my baby bump showed obvious stretch marks from my previous three pregnancies.

With my arms held above my head, my tiny boobs covered by the tiny yellow bikini top made hardly an undulation on my bony chest.

Again, nothing pornographic, but I did wonder why my husband had concealed this set of pictures from me. After all, he had bored me half to death with the hundreds he had taken of markets or ancient ruins.

The answer to that question became clearer a few clicks later when a new set of pictures appeared. In these I was in the same position and the same location, but with my bikini top removed.

As I have explained, during that holiday the emotions and hormones of my pregnancy along with my stalled Hot Wife lifestyle had led me to dress and behave in ways most women my age would consider unwise. I had worn shorter, tighter, more revealing dresses and skirts showing off more of my skinny, fifty-year old body to the public than any pregnant woman, let alone one my age should even contemplate.

And I had gone topless by the pool and on the beach on many occasions, believing myself to be invisible to all but my husband.

Pete seemed to have taken full advantage of this; the directory contained no less than a dozen pictures of me topless, taken from various angles and magnifications. In some, my arms were raised, making my boobs all but vanish into the flatness of my chest. In others, my arms were forward, showing my boobs at their apparent largest, as two small pointed cones.

With a frown of astonishment, I pressed on with my search and within seconds had found half a dozen pictures that genuinely shocked me.

As I clicked on the first, another picture of me appeared. Or at least of part of me. I looked in horror as the screen was filled with the pink and yellow image of my own bikini-covered groin. I was lying on my back, my legs parted just enough to reveal beneath the swelling of my pregnant belly, the tight yellow fabric of my bikini bottoms pulled high between my thighs.

Nothing below my thighs or above my navel was visible. It could have been any woman; only Pete and I would know it was me. I clicked again to find another, then another similar shot, each one moving closer and closer as the cameraman dared approach.

As the last few images filled my screen, I saw my lycra-covered vulva in extreme closeup. From the smooth curve of my belly to my skinny upper thighs, all was clearly visible. Even the dark patch on the bikini gusset was clear for all to see.

To get that close up, Pete must have had the zoom on his phone close to maximum or else he had secretly brought the camera he had acquired for our first Manchester adventure.

The damp patch was vertical, in the centre of the strip of cloth between my upper thighs. Sweat would have dampened and darkened the edges; this patch could only have been caused by arousal.

I shivered despite myself when I realised this then sat back amazed.

I had no idea Pete had made such a collection.

The fact that my husband had a secret stash of sexy pictures was no real surprise. That they were all of me was far greater a shock. But I asked myself, what had I expected to find? Pictures of porn stars? Of celebrities? Of our friends?

And what was the purpose of the collection? As keepsakes? As masturbatory aids?

Or was it as I had both feared and desired, a source of material to be shared with other men online?

Ten more minutes of clicking revealed a dozen or more pictures of me completely or nearly naked; all of them taken either secretly when I was in the shower, the bathroom or when I was sleeping naked after we had made love.

All of them showed my pregnant belly, my naked boobs, thighs and especially my vulva to any watching eyes. A few even showed Pete's semen oozing from my hairless slit as I slept.

My heart was thumping in my chest as I reached for the flash drive close by.

***

Twelve hours later I was sitting at my dresser in the bedroom, naked apart from my open-fronted maternity nightie, a folded towel beneath my bottom, my laptop open in front of me.

Pete was away overnight yet again, as the drops of milk seeping from my sore teats testified, Leanne had just had her last, enthusiastic feed of the day and would be asleep for hours.

The feed had as usual left me aroused, but his time my arousal went much, much further.

It was a perfect opportunity -- if I dared take it.

My hands trembled as I booted up the machine and logged into the two online chatrooms that I most often frequented, signing in openly as my husband, Pete and looking to see if any of my regular friends were online.

I had high hopes; this late at night would be early evening in the USA so a good many men, and rather fewer women would be signing in after work or after dinner.

My heart thumped as I searched; success!

Within a few minutes I had greeted no less than five male chatters I knew were either actual or would-be cuckolds themselves, and who had with me, admired pictures of each other's wives and girlfriends many times before.

It was the work of less than two minutes to create a shared room and invite them to join me.

'You're not usually this forward Pete' appeared in the chat bar. 'What's up?'

'It's my turn tonight' I replied.

'You got pics of your wife for us?'

'Yep'

'Hey guys Pete's finally going to let us see his Hot Wife'

'Hey! Great'

'About bloody time' from a chatter who could only be British.

'I hope she's worth the wait' I typed.

'So do we. You've waited long enough' came the immediate response.

'Well get on with it'.

My finger hovered nervously over the Upload icon. Was I really brave enough or foolish enough to expose myself online to men who were, after all, strangers?

My tummy was alive with butterflies as I bit my lip and clicked the button.

Seconds later my screen, and the screens of five unknown men were filled with six images of a skinny, pregnant fifty-one-year-old woman by the bright blue waters of a Provençale swimming pool. Some had her face down, some face up but, thanks to careful selection and cropping, in none of them was her face recognisably visible.

I had actually done it. There I was on screen, clad only in a tiny bikini, available for them all to see. I waited, my heart thumping, for the first comments. The first message came within seconds.

'Hot!'

'This really your wife Pete?'

'Yes of course,' I replied.

'Not some random women on holiday?'

'Nope that's her'

'Wow!'

'What's her name?'

'Penny' I typed instinctively.

The thrill that came over me when I realised I had unthinkingly used my real name was a revelation.

'You said she was fifty something'

'She is'

'But she's pregnant'

'Yes. Well she was then.'

'I didn't know you could be pregnant that old'

'Neither did we'

'Shit man! You didn't mean to knock her up?'

I drew a deep breath.

'I didn't knock her up. I've had the snip'

'Fuck! Who did it then?'

'One-night stand'

'He younger?'

'Not even thirty. Personal trainer'

'You're kidding right?'

'Not kidding. He fucked her all night and sent her home with a baby in her belly'

'Jesus Christ'

'She pregnant still?'

'No. The baby was born last year'

'Does he look like his Dad?'

'Yes, but it's a girl'