Hotwife Reclaimed

I climbed out of the taxi and stepped onto the concrete with my friends, enjoying our bi-monthly girls' night out on the town. We were a small group of close, mid-thirties, married, mothers, and we'd just come from a wine bar, so my head was already buzzing. It had been a good night so far, but it was about to turn wild, with the kind of reckless abandon I hadn't indulged in for a while.

My dress clung to my mommy curves, which I was proud of at my age. I still worked out and ate well. Tight fabric could, thankfully, still accentuate my curvaceous figure and heavy bust. Laughing with my friends, my long, brown hair catching in the breeze, my blue eyes glinted at the young men vaping outside the cocktail bar we had come to.

They were handsome, but perhaps a little too young, in their early to mid-twenties, I reckoned. Still, that didn't stop me from doing a bit of 'window shopping'. I had caught them looking at me first, as I teetered into the bar on my stiletto heels, enjoying the attention and feeling desired.

Inside the Cuban-style cocktail bar, things spiralled soon after a few shots. Everything became a bit of a blur, not an intoxicating blur, but the Latino music, laughter, and the amount of people simply blended together. Then I locked eyes with him, and the night truly spiralled in a different direction.

Ben. Barely twenty-four-years old. I felt like a cougar. I was approaching thirty-seven. But he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, blond, and virile, and he had beautiful blue eyes that saw straight through me. I was generally more attracted to older guys, but I made an exception for Ben. There was something very exciting and interesting about him.

I teased him at the bar to begin with, asking him what his parents would say if they saw their precious son chatting up married mothers in a bar. Exuding confidence beyond his years, he gave me a 'come to bed smile' and asked why I was letting a random guy buy me a drink if I was happily married.

"Who said I was happily married?" I flirted seductively, stirring the cocktail he'd just bought me with a straw.

Ben gave me that gorgeous smile of his again, making me weak at the knees. "I'm not even going to ask about your marriage," he said. "But I am going to ask if you'd like to dance with me?"

"Go on then," I smirked wryly. We both knew what the answer was going to be.

Ben asked and I accepted, receiving a rapturous applause from my friends. I was so impressed with him. His confidence knew no bounds, and he wasn't arrogant or cocky. He didn't over step his mark either. So I did. I draped my arms around his neck and kissed his soft lips, giving him the green light to put his hands on my hips and rounded buttocks.

As we danced, mostly talking and flirting, the rest kissing, I learned that Ben was training to become a junior doctor. I was further impressed. But I partly lied about myself, telling him I was housewife with a husband and two kids. He didn't need to know that I was really a respectable line manger, or that I was happily married, so I let him believe what he wanted to believe.

I enjoyed dancing and kissing with him. He was a passionate kisser, with soft lips and a smooth tongue. He had a firm, gentle grip too, at least on my arse he did, discreetly groping me on the dance floor. I loved every second of it. Then my young fancy man suggested something I should have seen coming. Ben whispered intimately in my ear.

"Do you fancy coming back to my apartment with me, Jemma?" he asked, his voice low, his words inviting, both causing a pool of lust to seep into my knickers.

My heart hammered in my chest, putting adrenaline in my veins. I was definitely up for it, but I had to check with my husband, Paul, first. It was an unspoken rule, one that kept our marriage running smoothly and allowed me to indulge in the hotwife lifestyle, when the opportunity presented itself. I told Ben not to go anywhere, while I popped to the ladies'.

Inside one of the cubicles, I texted Paul, asking him how he was doing. The kids were staying with my mother, while he had a few friends round to watch the boxing. He replied, asking if I was on my way home or planning on going back to someone else's home. He could read my like a book, which I loved. He was my rock, such a confident, understanding, and a very loving man.

I texted again. "His names Ben. 24 and gorgeous!"

A few moments later, my screen lit up. "Text me when you get there, and I want you home straight after it. Have fun and be safe."

"Of course. I love you. See you later." I typed back.

Excitement ran through my body, mixed with a thrill of anticipation. My husband was used to this by now. He's a cuckold at heart, but I don't fool around with other men that often. It took me years to understand Paul's fantasies and desires. But once I did, I came to embrace them, and my own.

I stepped out of the cubicle to be faced by my best friend, Victoria. "Let me guess..." she smiled knowingly.

"What? It's been a while," I giggled.

"I'll tell the others you just left to go home in a taxi. Don't let them see you walking out with that guy. Kissing, they can handle, but hotwifing... that's a whole different level of gossip," Victoria warned me.

"I know," I hugged her. "You're the best."

"Be safe," she warned me one last time before we separated for the night.

Victoria had found out by accident. I had to tell her after she overheard me talking on the phone to Paul one time, which is why we now text, and why I usually did it while working away at hotels. Once she had taken the other girls to another bar, I rejoined Ben, who thought I was cheating on my husband.

His apartment was small but modern, with IKEA furniture everywhere. I hoped the bed wasn't going to break, because I was hot and horny. It was a nice place. Clean and tidy for a young bachelor, and the air smelled fresh and neutral. The young man continued to impress me without even really trying.

"Would you like a glass of wine, Jemma?" he asked, leading me into the kitchen.

"No thank you, Ben. I've had enough to drink for one night," I said in a sultry tone.

Ben smiled. "It doesn't have to be alcohol."

"I'd rather you give me what you invited me here for," I teased, leaning suggestively against the countertop, locking eyes with him.

He smiled again, eyeing me with curious intent. "You're so beautiful and sexy," he said, stepping towards me, brushing my hair off my shoulder.

"I'm glad you think so," I replied. "You're not bad yourself." The anticipation was intense.

Without another word, Ben brought his mouth to mine and kissed me, his hand cupping the side of my face, while his other hand went to my hip. I followed, embracing him with the same level of tentativeness as we explored each others mouths in the silence of his apartment, nothing in our way.

Ben's touch was electric, as it always was with a new man, but his youth and energy were a stark contrast to my husbands steady, familiar embrace. Hotwifing showed me that I needed both in my life, and Paul showed me I could have both. He had the confidence to give it to me, and I took it, feeling alive, reckless, and so, so, free.

Kissing and breathing heavily, we eventually made it into the bedroom, our playground for the next couple of hours. Our clothes were quickly discarded in a hurried heap on the floor, then Ben's firm hands really were everywhere, tracing the curves of my body with a desire that left me breathless. I moaned feverishly as he kissed around my neck and throat, grazing me with his lips.

"You're so hot, Jemma," his voice quivered, the first sign that he was overwhelmed. "I've never been with a married woman before."

I smiled into his eyes, feeling added warmth at his words, and ran my fingers through his styled blond hair. "Now's your chance," I whispered, slipping my tongue inside his mouth, increasing our lust and desire.

Ben slid his hands over my body, keeping his touch firm and gentle as he explored every inch of me, especially my large, natural breasts. I arched my back, my groans growing louder as he sucked on my nipples with a skill that belied his age. I didn't become lost in the moment. I was in the moment. Naked with another man, a much younger man, except for my marital rings.

Jemma, the married mother of two was gone, her inhibitions forgotten and abandoned. It was just Jemma the hotwife now, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through her veins, to the pleasure that Ben was promising with his foreplay, as he kissed, licked and sucked me all over, before ending up with his head between my thighs.

There, he didn't match the skill of my husband, who'd been licking my pussy for twelve years, but boy, did Ben still know how to go down on a woman. He loved my patch of dark curls, a rarity, he said, amongst women his own age. I held his head in place and flicked my hips in orgasm, coating his handsome face in my juices and aroma.

We then moved around the bed, switching places. Kneeling between his thighs, I sucked his well-endowed length, another reason I find tall men attractive. They tend to be in proportion. Stroking from the base, sucking deep, fondling his balls, I showed him my experience, taking him to the brink.

When Ben finally entered me bare in the missionary position, it was with the tenderness of a gentle lover, which had me gasping. He was in awe of me, which was extremely intoxicating. He slid in and out of my body with slow, deep strokes until I climaxed again, something I rarely did at that pace. But every nerve ending was alive.

"Fuck me, Ben," I sighed a few moments after my orgasm had passed through me. I held his face and kissed him. "That was amazing, but now I need you to fuck me harder."

"Mmm," he moaned with a grin, sliding his arms under my legs and raising them in the air. "How hard do you want it?" he smirked.

"As hard as you can give it to me," I challenged him.

He didn't need telling twice. Ben entered me with an urgency that had me screaming inside his apartment. Using the strength in his arms against my legs to raise my lower back off the bed slightly, he ploughed into me deep, fucking my pussy with long, hard thrusts, his pubic bone smashing into mine, making me scream louder and louder.

"Oh God, yes! That's it! Fuck me hard!" I panted, grabbing his arms, digging my nails into his flesh. Trapped in his grasp, I took a thorough pounding from a young stud.

Any woman knows, sometimes we just need to be taken, ravaged and fucked senseless. He doesn't have to be hung, although that does help, he just needs to know what he's doing, have the stamina and awareness, and Ben had that in abundance. Fucking a married woman didn't faze him when he got going. His ego thrived off pleasuring me.

"Fuck, your pussy feels good," he grunted, as I deliberately and repeatedly contracted the walls of my haven around his thrusting girth.

I couldn't respond with words, they were lost in a series of breathless moans and pants as the pleasure kept building inside of me. I was soon on the edge again. Ben sensed it and thrust his hips faster, fucking me with everything he had. Scratching my nails down his arms, he hissed at the pain while I screamed in ecstasy on his cock.

I then rode him for a bit, calming things down before the crescendo. He was in awe of me once more, blabbering superlatives as I enjoyed his cock at my pace, his hands caressing my breasts, rolling my nipples. He showed his age too, young love, telling me he wanted to see me again before we'd even finished. Poor, Ben, I thought.

I was touched by his sweetness, sure he'd make some woman feel special one day, but my heart belonged to one man, and one man only. Unlike a lot of people, Ben included, I can separate lust, desire and sex from love. Many people don't understand it. They can't conceptualise the lifestyle. Those who can, experience sexual freedom on a level that marriage alone cannot provide.

In danger of witnessing Ben falling in love with me, I climbed off and instructed him to take me from behind, my favourite hotwifing position. It's so raw and primal, submissive and deep. It can be done in many ways, of course, so I told Ben to fuck me how I needed him to, how I loved it... like a slut.

He got behind me, finding his aggression once more, and entered me with a long, deep thrust. It forced my back to arch and my head to look up, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. "Pull my hair and fuck me!" I hissed fiercely, and fuck me he did.

It was so hard and fast, so intense and deep, I came twice before he did. Ben yanked on my brown locks and submitted to what he realised he was dealing with, a woman who just needed to get fucked, used, and satisfied. He spat all the dirty names under the sun at me, pouring fuel over my fire, until he finally filled me with his virile sperm.

We then collapsed onto the mattress, the air thick with the potent scent of raw, unbridled sex. The dirt of our drunken, Saturday, one night stand seeped into his bedsheets as we lay together, panting in the aftermath. But the clock was ticking, and I knew I couldn't stay. I had a horny husband waiting at home for me, waiting to reclaim his wife.

"Do you really have to go?" Ben looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes of his, but they had suddenly lost their effect on me.

"Sorry, Ben, but yes I do," I replied apologetically, stroking his face once I'd put my clothes and heels back on.

"Can I see you again? That was the best sex I've ever had," he beamed.

I leaned down and kissed his lips, feeling his sperm seeping into my knickers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, because so did I, but I'm married, Ben. I don't do sequels," I told him, not with the same guy, anyway, I thought.

He walked me to the door, his hand lingering on my waist for a moment, before he let me go. "Take care of yourself, Jemma," he said, his voice warm but tinged with sadness.

"You too, Ben," I replied, kissing his lips for the very last time.

I stepped out of his apartment and into a waiting taxi, knowing it was the last time I would ever see him or hear his voice again, but he would never be forgotten. Ben's ears would soon be burning, because he was about to become the focus of the next part of my evening, inside my marital bedroom.

I arrived home shortly after 2am, to be greeted by my horny husband. "Hey," I said, smiling from the nights activities.

"Hey," he chuckled, his brown eyes examining my disheveled appearance. "Was he good?"

"You'll have to take me to bed to get that answer," I teased, raising a leg and leaning down to slip off a shoe.

"Keep them on," he instructed, his eyes fixed on my breasts threatening to spill from my dress. "I want you exactly as you are."

"Mmm," I giggled flirtatiously.

My husband was a man of few words when I returned from getting screwed by someone else, but his actions spoke volumes. He led me upstairs, quietly checking I was ok, before he took me into the bedroom and told me to take my knickers off. With a mischievous grin, I hitched my dress up and pulled my underwear down to my ankles, stretching the fabric so he could see the crotch.

My husbands eyes widened and his lips parted slightly, his breathing suddenly audible as he took in the wet, sticky mess inside my knickers. "He fucked you good," he stated.

I nodded, my own breath beginning to increase and catch in my throat. "Very good," I said, remembering it vividly.

He growled, a sound that made my pussy twitch. I could feel Ben's juices sticking to the inside of my thighs. "I'm happy for you," my husband breathed. "Now, it's my turn."

As I stepped out of my soiled knickers, Paul was on me, his mouth pressed against mine in a fierce, passionate kiss. He raised the hemline of my dress right up, exposing my buttocks, then he grasped them in his hands, groaning with increased arousal.

"I need you, Paul, I need my husband," I breathed, remembering Ben kissing me.

"And I need you, Jemma, I need you," he breathed back, turning me around and then laying me down softly on the bed. "You're mine forever. You know that, don't you?" he said, his eyes darkening as he stripped off his clothes.

"Forever," I said back to him, slipping the dress straps off my shoulders and down my arms, exposing my breasts to his desperate gaze.

As warped as it may seem to a lot of people, this for Paul and I, mostly Paul, was where he obviously reclaimed me, but it was more than that, much more. It was like a ritual. A sexual ritual. I still wasn't his wife yet, not in his eyes. He needed to fuck me like the other men had done, like Ben did, like a slut. He needed to rid himself of his cuckold lust.

"Are you ready to get fucked again?" he growled once more, stroking his cock.

My husband has a lovely cock, shaped a bit like a hammer. It's quite long and thin with an engorged head. The extra girth at the tip feels unbelievably amazing when he first enters me, and again when he stays deep inside my body, pounding my pussy hard.

"Oh, you bet I'm ready," I teased, slowly pulling my dress up, revealing the very tops of my smooth thighs, and the thatch of hair between them, still glistening in Ben's cum. I then spread my legs and pulled my feet in, feeling my swollen, sticky sex lips opening up for my husbands inspection.

"Yes," he groaned. "You love it as much as I do, don't you? I always knew you'd love the attention, the freedom, their hands on you, pleasuring your hot body. Did you enjoy the way this Ben fella fucked you? Twenty-four-years-old you said? And there's his load."

Staring hard into my husbands eyes, I began to slowly move my aching clit around in a circular motion. "I do love it," I replied. "I love their attention, the validation. I wish you could have been there to see the way Ben looked at me. He made me feel young again, especially the way he fucked me back at his apartment. So hard and deep, like he owned me, like I was his wife or girlfriend."

My husband grunted like a tamed beast about to be set free. His grip on his throbbing cock tightened, squeezing out a few droplets of his arousal. I cast him a devilish smile as the head began to glisten.

"Like he owned you, hey?" he smirked, kneeling down on the bed. "Then I guess I'm going to have to remind you where your loyalties lie, because who do you belong to, Jemma?" Paul picked up my legs, placing them on top of his shoulders, then pressed his engorged head against my used opening.

"My heart belongs to one man, and I'm looking right at him," I sighed, feeling his thickness rubbing along my slit.

"Oh, you're still wet from him," my husband murmured. "Still dripping with his cum. But I'm going to change that. Oh, yes, I'm going to fill you with my own cum and reclaim you."

"Mmm," I grinned. "I can't wait. Stick it in and fuck the good wife back into me."

"Tell me everything, Jemma. From the moment you locked eyes with him in the bar, to the moment he flooded your married cunt and womb with his cum. Tell me it all."

My husband sank his cock into my pussy effortlessly, then grabbed my breasts and began to fuck me slowly with every inch he had. Once we'd quickly built a steady rhythm, I relived my time with Ben. How he kissed me and groped my arse on the dance floor. That caused Paul to grunt, but he didn't speed up. I could see on his face he wanted to, but he was saving his load, holding back until the perfect moment.

My own orgasm began to build, when I took us into Ben's apartment, and confessed to how quickly we were naked in his bed, how his hands roamed my body and how he loved my large breasts. Paul was teetering on the edge of ejaculation, thrusting in and out a little faster as I painted the picture of a much younger man fucking me, his wife.

"Oh fuck! Yes!" he hissed, squeezing my breasts, his balls slapping against my arse. "How many times did he make my wife cum, Jemma? How how hard did he fuck you?"

"Harder than you are now. Especially when he pumped his thick sperm into your wife's pussy," I taunted the cuckold inside my husband.

"Is that so!" he responded, his body trembling.

He grabbed my breasts harder and pounded as fast as he could, my high heels dancing beside his head as he fucked me. I continued to goad my husband, telling him how good it felt getting fucked by Ben, a young man I met in a bar and gave myself to so easily. I didn't even make him work for it, I said, as the bed creaked and rocked against the wall.

"Can you feel his cum inside me?" I groaned. "I hope Ben didn't impregnate me... or maybe I do..."

"Oh, you know exactly what to say, don't you? I love your slutty side! Oh, take my cum, you sexy fucking... ohhhh..."

It was the final straw for my husband. He lunged his full length into me, grunting and sweating as he ejaculated deep inside my pussy, adding his hot, thick load to the one already swimming around inside me. It sent me over the edge too. I cried out as his engorged head twitched, triggering me to convulse in orgasm until we were drained.

"God, I love you, woman," Paul chuckled, lowering my legs then spreading them. "Let me get a look at you," he said. "Mmm... welcome home, Jemma, my sexy hotwife."

"It's good to be home," I giggled at him inspecting the mess pouring out of me.

I took a quick shower, where yes, I did rub out another orgasm over Ben. It was the excitement of it all that turned me on. I then returned to bed, as Jemma the married mother of two, and fell into a deep, relaxing sleep. But not before my husband and I kissed and hugged each other goodnight, whispering "I love you" before rolling over.