Breaking The News
Posted 5 November 2005
It's another Saturday morning and Martin has left to meet his friends. They're all travelling up north to see a football match, and he won't be back until the evening.
There's an understanding between us that Martin should be out for most of the day on Saturdays. I like to be alone, free to dress up and then do whatever takes my fancy without any interference. I can write my diary, go shopping, make or edit a video, and of course pleasure myself along the way, usually several times.
I got up really early today after a somewhat restless night - I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the previous evening and the new opportunities that have now opened up for me. I went to the spare bedroom where we keep all my exotic gear and spent almost an hour preparing myself for the day ahead. I suspect that Martin was awake as I dressed, as it's likely he also had a hard time sleeping.
No holding back today, I'm wearing the works, all in black. Buckled latex corset (8 suspenders); leather strap bra with a thin rubber peephole bra over it; rubber choker with silver 'O' ring which has two small silver chains attached with nipple rings on the end; latex briefs (open front and rear); buckled leather dildo harness; black plastic semi-transparent short coat; sheer lace-top seamed stockings; front-laced thigh boots with five-inch heels; leather opera gloves; carrying a black leather riding crop; fully made up with perfect hair; silver penis earrings (I love these).
If I'm wearing one of my harnesses outside the house then I'll usually go out double-cocked, but when I'm at home I tend to only strap in an anal dildo, leaving my pussy free for other methods of stimulation. I deliberately wore the transparent mac so that Martin would be able to make out the studded leather strap of the harness holding the rubber plug in my rear. This always drives him wild and I know he'll be struggling on the way to the football match as he thinks of me deliberately pressing my arse back and forth against the corner of a table to make the dildo screw me.
As I left the room to go downstairs I also picked up the 8-inch flesh-coloured realistic cock that Martin likes to see me playing with. It looks beautiful, but if I'm honest about it the girth on this thing is actually too much for me. It doesn't give me as much pleasure as other smaller toys do. However I do love having it in my mouth, dreaming that it belongs to a real lover.
Once downstairs I went into the kitchen and prepared myself a light breakfast. I made sure I did plenty of walking about - I knew Martin would hear the 'click, click' of the metal heel tips of my boots as they made contact with the tiled kitchen floor. Sure enough, about ten minutes later I heard him coming down the stairs. I wondered what his mood would be this morning after the shock he received last night.
All week I had been planning what I was going to say to my husband, how exactly I would reveal my plans to him. We often go out for a meal, just the two of us, on a Friday night. Several restaurants are located on a lively street a few miles from where we live and all of them are pretty good. Dressed somewhat provocatively in a plain black cardigan, short skirt, black stockings and high-heeled sandals, I had visions of sitting opposite Martin - candles, wine, good food - tantalisingly breaking the news that would hugely change his life.
Unfortunately it didn't work out that way. As soon as we sat down I realised that there was no way I could be so explicit. I would have to speak too softly and this wouldn't be in keeping with the strength of intent I wanted to convey. In any case, on an adjacent table was an eavesdropper - a woman who was apparently listening intently to her partner while she monitored every bloody conversation in the room. I know how to spot this because I'm an expert at it myself. It wouldn't have mattered how much I lowered my voice, old bat ears would have lapped up every sentence.
Martin must have wondered why I seemed distracted and so ready to finish the meal so we could get away. When we got home he made some coffee and opened a bottle of wine. Once he had served the drinks I sat opposite him in our lounge, my legs crossed, allowing my skirt to ride right up to reveal the lace tops of my stockings. I could see that my husband was already highly aroused.
"There's something I want to tell you, Martin, something that's been on my mind for some time now..."
And then I broke the news to him. I was surprised at the clarity of my thoughts and how I was able to articulate them so calmly. I told him how the wife of his fantasy had become the wife of reality. How getting me to wear sexy clothing in public just so that he could feed his imagination with sordid visions of men feeling me up and screwing me at work had turned me into a woman who wanted all those things and more. How it was my intention to now have sex with another man, a man who could give me new pleasures and experiences that satisfied my fantasies. Stimulators and toys were no longer enough, I told him. I needed a real prick inside me, and that prick could never again be his.
"It'll be no surprise to you that it's Matt that I really want to have sex with. But whoever I end up with, it won't be enough just to be screwed by someone else. Eventually you're going to have to watch."
When I had finished I just sat there looking at him determinedly, not for a moment averting my gaze. He was speechless, completely dumbfounded. There was too much sincerity in my delivery for him to mistake it for simple role-playing. He knew it was for real.
Eventually he found the courage to speak and it was immediately apparent that he wanted to have some sort of 'let's talk this over' discussion. I was prepared for this and just cut him short:
"I'm just not interested in what you think, Martin. I've told you what's going to happen. How you deal with it is your problem. I'm going to bed in a minute and so should you. Think carefully about what I've said. Tomorrow I don't want any sulks or attempts to make me change my mind. Just accept that I love you, I love you very much, but I have other needs that I now want satisfying. You've always dreamed of me having sex with another man. Well, your dreams are now going to come true."
For a moment it looked as if he was going to argue with me, but he obviously thought the better of it and somewhat dejectedly left the room. I went on to the Net for a short while before going upstairs. I walked into Martin's bedroom to find him lying there looking agitated and confused. There was nothing more I could say though, so I just gave him a gentle kiss and left him alone.
As soon as I saw his face as he walked into the kitchen this morning I knew I had nothing to worry about, at least for the time being. He saw what I was wearing, uttered some expletive of amazement, and started caressing me. I just stood there and smiled as he played with me until I eventually told him to stop and get his breakfast or he'd be late meeting his friends.
As he sat and ate I fixed the realistic penis that I had brought downstairs to the breakfast bar using the rubber sucker on its base. Then as he watched from a few feet away I began to make love to this huge phallus. I talked dirty to it, as though a real man was there with me. I gently licked the end of it, then touched my lips to it, then began sucking it, taking more and more into my mouth. I took as much as I could without gagging, soaking the shaft with my saliva.
I then went over to where Martin was sitting and bent down to whisper in his ear, my right gloved hand massaging his erection inside his trousers.
"Later today when you're at the football match that big prick over there is going to be inside me. All of it. I may as well prepare myself for the real thing."
I squeezed even harder with my hand.
"Remember what I said, Martin. Think about it. Really think about it. Another man's cock - probably Matt's cock - ejaculating inside me while I'm moaning with pleasure. No games, no fantasy. Your wife being screwed by another man because you're not up to the task of doing it yourself. Just think about it..."
I wish you could have seen his face.
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