Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 09: New Year

The room was filled with an eerie light that Sunday morning as I sat on a stool in the kitchen, my laptop open on the table in front of me, the house surrounded by a snowy white blanket.

It was mid-January, two weeks into the New Year and unusually for England, we were having a proper winter. Well used to grey skies and constant drizzle throughout the winter months, we English aren't used to cold, snowy weather so the recent falls had caught the nation by surprise. As it was the weekend and we had nowhere special to go, it made a pretty and pleasant change.

My husband Pete was still asleep upstairs and would probably remain so for at least another hour. The ironing was done, the kitchen was clean and tidy so I had no reason not to spend time on my writing and doing a little online investigation into the important subject that had been dominating both my and my husband's thoughts for the last month; our new-found lifestyle.

And what lifestyle might appeal to a normal, outwardly boring, middle-class, middle-aged professional couple with two grownup children? Healthy eating? Exercise? Vegetarianism?

Don't you believe it; sometimes I couldn't believe it myself but it was true.

Only two months ago I had become a Hotwife and my husband a Cuckold. I was being regularly fucked by another man and Pete was letting it happen.

For a long time, wife sharing had been the main feature in our bedroom fantasies. Many times Pete had insisted that, as he seemed unable to provide me with the orgasms we both wanted, it would be okay if I took a lover who could. Indeed he had been trying to persuade me to sleep with another man for well over a year before, two months ago and unknown to him, it had finally happened.

In early November, after over twenty years of marriage I had become an unfaithful wife for the first time when my affair with Tony, a long-time family friend began.

Despite Pete's continual urging, when my first act of infidelity actually occurred it had been entirely unplanned. As a result it had been crude, feral, short-lived - and an absolutely incredible experience.

I had bumped into Tony, one of our closest family friends on a train returning from London. I had been writing one of my erotic stories on my laptop at the time so was already more than a little aroused, especially as one of the main characters had been based on him. Tony had offered me a lift home, had given me his usual over-friendly kiss and 'farewell fondle' but this time, for some reason I hadn't moved his hands away from my bottom. This time I had just let nature take its course.

That course involved us both falling precipitously into a pit of lust. He had stripped me, groped me, fingered me and fucked me passionately in our lounge, on the floor, still half dressed. I can still vividly remember the unbelievable, unexpected and overwhelming sensations that had rippled through my body when for the first time since our marriage another man's unfamiliar, erect cock had actually entered my body.

I could remember even more clearly how incredible it had felt a short while later to have that man ejaculate inside me, to feel the throbbing of his ugly, stubby but oh-so-thick cock in my over-sized vagina as it pumped his seed into my stunned but highly accepting body.

From there we had embarked on a passionate affair until, a month later and unable to stand the guilt any longer, I had confessed all to my husband in bed. Pete had been trying once again to persuade me to take a lover but although my infidelity was in theory his dream come true, the reality had hit him hard.

After the worst three nights of my life - alone and awake in our marital bed while Pete slept first in the guest room then spent the next two nights somewhere I was yet to discover - my extraordinary husband had told me that, subject to three strict conditions, he could live with the situation.

I could keep both my lover and my husband.

And so I had become a Hotwife, Pete had become a willing cuckold and our lives had taken a dramatic change. So far it had been for the better; our new lifestyle was barely two months old but it was almost unbelievable how we had fitted so easily and seamlessly into it.

But I couldn't be complacent; it was very much still a novelty for all three of us. How things would develop over time remained to be seen but thanks to my researches, the readers of my online erotic stories and most of all, my real-life cuckold online friends, I was already aware of many of the risks involved.

Unfortunately that didn't mean I wasn't over-confident about how well everything was proceeding; I had my loving handsome husband, my gorgeous, thick-cocked lover and my home and family all at the same time.

How could things possibly be any better?

Little did I realise I was going to make some very ill-advised decisions over the coming weeks but as I sat at my laptop that January morning, life looked bright.

I looked at the new smart phone alongside my laptop. Tony had given it to me as a late Christmas present so that he and I could communicate in private. There was no point upsetting Pete for no good cause, I reasoned, and the covert nature of our highly sexualised chats could remain between the two of us.

It was the first bad decision.

Tony and I had been messaging each other several times a day, the subject almost always being sex. His latest had come well after midnight when my husband had been asleep. I had replied secretly from underneath the duvet. Tony wanted to see me desperately; the message-sex we were indulging in wasn't doing the job for him and he was feeling frustrated.

To be honest, so was I. My dates with Tony had been put on temporary hold for a week or so for a somewhat embarrassing reason. I hope readers will forgive me going into a subject some might find distasteful but the truth was that I was having a heavy version of one of my increasingly erratic and unpredictable 'times of the month'.

Periods are fundamental to a woman's existence but are almost never referred to in erotic literature. In the same way that John Wayne's revolver never runs out of bullets in the movies, so women in erotica are never unavailable for sex if the opportunity arises! The only time periods are ever mentioned is when their absence indicates an unexpected and usually unwelcome pregnancy.

In my case, at the age of fifty-one I was both surprised and pleased at the evidence of my continued fertility. My mother's menopause had come late and it appeared mine was going to come even later. Most of my friends were already complaining about hot flushes, talking about HRT, had angry bad tempers and an almost complete lack of interest in sex.

The contrast with me and my condition could not have been more marked.

After my husband's vasectomy many years earlier, we had abandoned all forms of birth control, apart from the occasional novelty condom. The ribbed and studded ones could bring a real thrill to our lovemaking. Tony had also been 'snipped' so my middle-aged body was free of artificial hormones and sex with both men could be worry-free and unimpeded by latex.

Skin on skin; flesh on flesh! As it should be!

The idea that, in theory at least, a man's seed could still make a baby in my belly had led to many exciting fantasies with my husband prior to my affair and to my sessions with Tony now. Add to that my lifelong insistence that all sex must end up with me being properly inseminated and you had a heady mixture of lust and the danger of illicit conception to add to the pure physical pleasure of uninhibited, uncomplicated sex.

Disappointed by my unavailability, Tony had insisted he didn't care, telling me that he and his estranged wife Julie had routinely fucked throughout all her periods. That told me rather more than I wanted to know about the sex drive one of my closest friends; a woman my age who was currently involved in a scandalous affair with a Personal Trainer twenty years her junior.

Prior to her affair, it would have been hard to imagine that china-doll-pretty mother being interested in anything as sordid as sex. Her well-publicised affair had abruptly changed all that and this news about her inability to take a week off fucking each month added powerful new images I found hard to digest.

But whatever Tony was used to, mid-period sex was definitely not for me so for the first time since our affair had begun he had to cope without fucking me for a whole week.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed too, but at least it gave me more time to write. The sexual madness that had taken place over Christmas and New Year had been bewildering and I needed a break to get a grip on reality again. It had also given my imagination a renewed sharpness, providing the inspiration for several new and exciting stories so, despite the disappointment I was looking forward to it.

I hunched over the screen of my laptop, opened my secret author's email address and smiled; there were half a dozen messages, several of which were from my real-life cuckold friends. Only three of my oldest pen-pals knew the situation my husband and I were really in. All had been real life cuckolds for many years and I valued their advice highly; it had stood me in good stead so far.

I opened the first message; it was from Simon, a widower in his seventies from Australia whose late wife had cuckolded him happily for most of their marriage. As I started reading, I realised how much I still had to learn from the voice of experience, especially when it came to understanding how my husband must be feeling.

Had I listened to that advice more assiduously, I might have avoided a lot of trouble in the coming months.

In the fortnight since New Year, I had spent three full evenings with Tony, all in his apartment and all with my husband's agreement. Tony's kids had gone back to their respective jobs, girlfriends or Universities either just before or just after New Year's Eve so he and I had been able to find a bit of privacy after the hectic activities of the Christmas period.

I had gone into the holidays expecting a break from my infidelities and a return to what passed for normality in our house. In the event I had been wrong; my thoughtful husband had contrived to provide Tony and me with an unexpected but very welcome afternoon in bed together between the two big celebrations. This had been a wonderful surprise.

As I left Tony's flat after a particularly energetic two hours in bed, I found myself unable to open the building's security door. Tony came downstairs to release me just as Pete reached the same door carrying his umbrella. For the first time since I had confessed my affair, my husband and my lover had met face to face.

Both men had behaved impeccably, though stiffly and awkwardly. I had been proud of both of them but as Pete escorted me through the rain to his car, Tony had reminded us that we would all be together for the big New Year party in a few days' time.

This had unsettled me; although nothing had gone amiss in the short time the two men had been together, being in the same room for several hours and with alcohol flowing in abundance might have had a very different and much less pleasant result.

Although he accepted our current relationship, my husband had not forgotten that Tony had actually seduced me when I was still very much supposed to be in a monogamous marriage. He had been fucking me regularly for a full month before I had confessed to Pete and our unusual three-way arrangement had become 'official.'

Naturally my husband felt bitter about this; Tony had been one of his closest friends as well as mine. Though he hid it well, I knew Pete considered those first few weeks of our affair to have been a betrayal by both of us.

So, with no prospect of being fucked by anyone for a week, I was sitting that morning at my laptop, a fresh chapter of my latest story on the screen, typing as fast as I could. Before the images in my mind faded, I was trying to record all the details I could remember of that amazing New Year's Eve only two weeks ago that I had gone into with some trepidation.

And I had to do it before my husband woke up!

***

I know some people find it an unsettling, difficult time but I have always loved New Year with all its excitement, newness and promise for the future. With our new lifestyle just bedding in, this felt like a particularly appropriate time for me, my husband and my lover as I began to get dressed for the party we were attending in the smart ballroom of our city's only five-star hotel.

Our older son had gone back to London and was spending the night itself with his girlfriend and London friends in Trafalgar Square. Our daughter and her brother were celebrating with their 'home' friends, going clubbing in town so Pete and I were a couple again.

We were to be part of a large group enjoying dinner, a live band, doing a lot of dancing and even a little singing as the New Year arrived. I had great hopes that the evening would be a lot of light-hearted fun but of course was apprehensive about Pete and Tony being in the same room for so long.

It could be okay; it probably would be okay but you never can tell with men, I thought with a hollow laugh. After all, who would have thought my own gorgeous, athletic, macho husband would not just tolerate but actively encourage me to cuckold him on a regular basis?

The evening started well; I had plenty of time to get ready. Pete had insisted that I dressed more sexily than I would usually do when out with this group and I was very happy with this idea. I had chosen the Little Black Dress we had bought for my first Hotwife date.

I hadn't worn it since then but thought it was too expensive to hang in the wardrobe unused. Besides, I wanted to know whether Tony would recognise it or whether he had been too anxious to tear it off me to notice its sophistication. When I told him, Pete liked this idea a lot and the memories it invoked.

As before, he ran a lovely warm bath for me with my favourite jojoba bubbles, brought me a glass of prosecco and for half an hour I luxuriated in the warmth, shaving my arms, legs and other places, wishing I had done it earlier in the day or had even had myself waxed the day before.

My glass was refilled as I began to trim my bikini line. It wasn't strictly necessary but, now that my husband wasn't the only one to see my private places, I had started to pay a lot more attention to my appearance 'down there'.

I trimmed the wilder hairs at the base and edges of my triangle with a narrow-bladed razor. Then I trimmed around the sides and in the creases at the top of my inner thighs, the intention being to reduce the dark, curly triangle to a fashionable wide vertical band - an 'airstrip' as my women's' magazines had called it.

I didn't like the look of my first attempt, so tried again, making the strip a little narrower. That still looked wrong so I finished my second glass of prosecco and tried again. It was awkward getting the right angle in the bath, especially when shaving my left side with my right hand and the result was lopsided. I tried again without real success; the amount of hair remaining was getting smaller but no neater and no more attractive. I was beginning to feel frustrated.

Then something came over me. Maybe I was already a little tipsy, maybe I was just clumsy; I'll never know for sure but before I could stop myself I found I had deliberately shaved off almost all the remaining pubic hair on my left hand side!

I had never, ever done this before and really couldn't understand how it had happened. Having started, of course I couldn't leave myself with pubic hair on only half my vulva so I had no alternative but to carry on and shave off all the rest, giving myself a homemade Hollywood for the first time in my life!

I lay back in the water, my eyes wide in surprise. What on earth had I done? I sat up and stared between my open thighs. There was no doubt about it; for the first time since puberty, I had no pubic hair. A shiver of shock mixed with an extraordinary amount of arousal rippled through me.

At fifty-one years old, married with three grown up children, I had just acquired my first ever fully-shaven 'pussy'!

I had always hated that word; it's always seemed rather slutty and, I must confess, a bit too teenage American for my taste but to my amazement, once my middle-class, middle-aged English vulva was devoid of all hair, the word 'pussy' seemed to describe it perfectly.

I ran my hand over my mound. It wasn't quite as hairless as I had thought; there were a good few stray patches and more than a little stubble but having got this far, I really had to finish the job. Steeling myself and in constant fear of cutting my most sensitive parts, I set to work.

I have to say that shaving properly was much more fiddly than I had expected; my pubic hair grew in every direction. Finding all the stray hairs and dealing with unexpected stubble was quite literally a pain - I nicked myself more than once but having gone so far I really had to see it through.

Fortunately I've never been very a hairy person 'down there' or I might have missed the ball. As it was, the water was distinctly cool by the time I got out of the bath but by then I was smooth as smooth can be - as well as a bit shocked and bewildered.

I smothered my newly-bare and worryingly pink vulva with Pete's after-shave moisturising lotion; thanking God he used the un-perfumed kind for sensitive skin. Then I stood in front of the mirror and inspected my new self.

Wow!

To my delight, despite the stretch-lines and wrinkles a woman my age cannot avoid, my newly-hairless vulva really did make my naked body look younger. And looking younger made me feel younger too. A surge of excitement rushed through me as I wondered what sex would be like with no grey-brown curly hairs to get in the way.

And as for oral sex... My God, I couldn't wait!

I dressed carefully and self-consciously high heels and my LBD; its shortness bringing a new meaning to the word 'Little' and making black tights rather than stockings a necessity. Although the event was called a ball, the era of ball gowns was long past. Cocktail dresses were now the norm for these events which was a considerable relief. As a girl, I had been to a few balls arranged by my father's business. The heat and discomfort generated by my bulky dress had made the occasions a nightmare.

This dress was so short that over-heating would be highly unlikely.

Pete of course wore his 'black tie' evening suit. Though in theory this meant all the men would look the same and the women would be showcased, in practice the plain black suits made a man's physical build and personal poise even more noticeable.

I have to say that on those grounds, Pete looked amazing. His suit had been tailor-made prior to my affair and fitted him perfectly. Since it had started both Pete and I had spent much more time at the gym resulting in a dress size fall for me and a much more impressive physique for my husband.

What he would think of my first ever shaved 'pussy' I could only guess but as he wasn't in the bedroom when I donned my knickers, he didn't get to see my new bareness.

To add to the feeling of sexiness I wore a pair of my new Christmas panties; a black thong with a microscopic front to avoid VPL's under my tight fitting clothes and of course I wore my bracelet again with its increasing number of charms.

As I brushed my hair one last time, I felt very anxious. I was pretty sure both Pete and Tony would love my new hairless body but I wasn't completely certain. Still, it was another expression of my new Hotwife status which was what my husband at least had said he wanted. And it certainly marked the start of a New Me in a New Year.