Louise…Slut At Last Pt. 1 4.6/5 (14)

Of all the women I have ever known or read about, my wife Louise was without peer in her resistance to becoming a slut wife. Everything seemed against it.

First, there was her strict fundamentalist religious upbringing. In the world of her parents and their church friends, sex was something to be had seldom and talked about less. This had several effects, one of which was to make the first few years of our marriage very “vanilla”, with the Missionary Position (go figure!) being the order of the day. Any talk of “swinging” or “wife swapping” or “cuckolding” was out of the question. I knew not to ask.

She was also a shy, introspective lady, and this did not equip her well for the task of flirting with other men.

But at least she gradually warmed up to sex with me in marvelous ways, realizing that it was not simply for procreation, but for intense mutual pleasure as well. She started dressing provocatively for bed-time, with extraordinarily high platform heels, that were not much good for walking in, but made her look exquisite when I was fucking her. She would add in slutty little stretch-fabric mini dresses and later, latex rubber dominatrix outfits.

And she let me take all the photographs I wanted of her, dressed up in slutty and provocative ways. This concession to my lust on her part was to play a small but crucial part in her eventual transformation into a slut. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

She got very creative with her sexy outfits, and I got creative with my camera angles. Ten years into our marriage (we had married at age 27), I had a “spank bank” of about 2000 sexy pictures of my hot wife. She also became extremely open to trying a wide variety of sexual positions, which I have to admit was a thrilling turn of events.

And what hotness! Louise stand 5’4″ tall, and was 112 pounds when we married – very petite. By the time she was 42, she had reached a weight of 120 pounds, and I swear that all those 8 extra pounds went to her tits and ass. When I married Louise, her breasts were barely a 32B; now they had swelled to an honest 34C. Her legs were shapely, with gently swelling hamstring and thigh convexities and the sharp diamond calves of an ex dancer.

Her hair, a golden brown, she always wore long, to the middle of her back at least, and sometimes all the way to her ass. Her big brown eyes had the ability to tease and captivate any man. She was stunning, not just for her age, but for ANY age. And I continued to add to my photo collection. I had a large terabyte hard drive with a main folder called “Wife Pics.”

It was about the time we both turned 44 that I discovered cuckold porn. From the very first minute of viewing I was hooked. I couldn’t look away, and I couldn’t stop wanting it. From that very first day, I knew that I wanted other men, big-cocked men, to fuck Louise. I had no doubt whatsoever, and the passage of time only made my desire for this increase. The thing was … what to do about it?

Louise was as religious, as conservative, and as dedicated to the church as ever. She was a straight arrow, and I couldn’t see how the direct approach (“Darling, would you mind terribly if I brought a few of my horny friends around and let them have a go at you?”) could ever work. In fact, I was scared to talk to her about the subject at all.

One night, though, I had been out drinking at a bar after work on a Friday night, and had overdone things by quite a bit. At a certain blood-alcohol level, for me personally, beer may as well be truth serum, and I found myself with Louise in our bedroom, explaining the entire cuckold lifestyle to her. She seemed to take it well, but I was not really in any shape to be able to tell.

I awoke with a sense of excitement, a sense that something important had just happened. Then I remembered that I had opened up to Louise the night before regarding my cuckold fantasies, and my desire to make them come true. At breakfast, I broached the subject again. Clearly I had mistaken her calmness the evening before, because now she was full of rage and venom, aghast at the idea of her fucking another man, and very put out with me for suggesting such a thing. She made it clear that at no time, now or ever, would she engage in such “adulterous shenanigans.”

She shut me down hard.

So, I went away and licked my wounds, but it seemed there was no way forward for me, no way to get Louise to cuckold me. So, I invented a coping mechanism. Our sex life was still phenomenal, but I added a secret, mental ingredient to it, unknown to Louise. Now, during foreplay, I set up a role-play scenario in my mind. I became someone else. I became the man that I most (on that particular day) wanted to see fuck her brains out.

Sometimes, I was the guy who always followed her around at church. Sometimes, I became one of the three or four guys who always hit on her at her gym. Sometimes I was one of my gym friends or one of her literary friends. Louise was an aspiring novelist at the time … she was about to conclude the writing of her first novel, and so she had developed a fairly large set of “literary friends.”

More than half of them were male, although of those, I suspected the majority was gay. But there were some definitely horny heterosexual guys in Louise’s literary set, guys I had met, and into whose eyes I had peered. In two or three of them, the raging horniness for my wife was palpable. They wanted to get into her panties in the worst possible way. They were desperate to fuck her.

I’m sure she flirted with them innocently, which must have come near driving them mad. In hindsight, I’m sure that they, as well as her regular lust-ridden gym fans, used images of my wife regularly in their masturbatory fantasies. I wondered how many loads of cum had been spilled in raw desire for my innocent wife? Probably hundreds, now that I think about it.

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