Lights...Camera...Action! - Part II

Posted 07 September 2006

One of the factors that I had to take into consideration during our week of filming when Martin was abroad was that Matt would only be able to produce a limited number of full ejaculations, and for some of the planned scenes it was going to be vital that he unloaded impressively. I therefore had to be very selective as to which scene was being videoed when he had his first release of the day and also I had to ask him to avoid climaxing in the evening so that he could at least partially recover for the following day's session. I was resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be able to produce as much sperm as he would have done with at least a full day's abstinence.

He wasn't at all enamoured with this constraint, especially as we went out in public twice in the evening during that week and on both occasions I was dressed for sex. When we got home all he wanted to do was screw me, and my insistence that he avoid climax caused considerable frustration for him. I don't think he was able to fully grasp how important these ejaculation scenes were to me.

Annoyingly I had lost one of those ejaculations on the very first day, when Matt's understandable loss of control had undermined my plans. So on the Tuesday morning when Matt began to caress me in bed when we woke up, I made damn sure that things didn't get out of hand, even though I'd slept all night with a dildo buckled into me.

We set the cameras up in my bedroom, which as I'm sure you've noticed is where I film most of my videos. This room seems to get good light at any time of the day, it's got a number of mirrors, and as it's upstairs I don't have to worry about someone coming to the house while I'm in full flow, either on my own or when I'm with Martin (and now Matt). We positioned two cameras either side of where the action would take place, at fairly close range. The third camera was sited further away to take in the whole scene.

I had already decided what I would be wearing for this session: the very same clothes that I had worn on the night when Martin was first cuckolded. As I zipped up my shiny skirt in my dressing room and smoothed the leather over my suspenders to make them more prominent, I felt the same excitement that I had felt that night when I inwardly knew that I was going to suck Matt. This time however there was no doubting the size of what I would be feeding on.

This scenario is completely centred on me pleasuring Matt with my mouth and right from the start you see me kneel before him and begin to lightly kiss his crotch. It actually took an age before we could start recording this scene, because I wanted him to look completely normal at first in the dark grey, well-pressed suit trousers he was wearing. I wanted to capture his physical response to my attentions on film, but as soon as he saw me in the outfit I had worn on that momentous night, he became fully hard. It was actually quite comical, as I then had to leave the room and he had to sit and try to empty his mind of any thoughts of me to quell his excitement, something he initially found impossible to do. And then I would come back in and the same instant response would occur. It took four tries before we could begin the scene, and even then he had to turn his face and look out of the window until it no longer mattered that he was becoming erect.

It was well worth the wait. As you see me kissing him and lightly pressing my fingers upwards against his balls, you see the material of his trousers begin to stretch outward as his cock hardens, and soon I'm tilting my head to one side so that my lips can follow the contour of his shaft, as if I'm biting on to it. I wanted to avoid the situation where his prick gets trapped in the top of his trousers, and so at the same time I begin to finger the head with my right hand and lightly pull his waistband with my left, giving his cock the leeway to lengthen vertically without hindrance. I was so excited about capturing this on film. I knew that the head of his fully erect prick would be well above the top of his trousers, whereas my husband's in the same situation would be no higher than the waistband.

The next couple of minutes are just stunning in my opinion, and I think women would appreciate this sequence far more than any man would. I've moved my right hand back to his balls and I'm massaging them; my left hand is stroking the shaft, pulling the trouser material tight to accentuate the profile of Matt's wonderful girth; and my mouth looks as if I'm just kissing his white shirt well above the waistband. I break off briefly to undo a single button on his shirt, and I pull the cotton material apart. Then I resume what I was doing before, but now you can see that I'm actually kissing and mouthing the underside of his cock head, teasing it deftly with my tongue and wrapping my lips around it. It's just an incredible sight. No doubt there are bigger men than Matt around, but for someone who's spent years living with an unimpressive husband, being able to make love to a phallus of this size is intoxicating. I can quite believe that it is images such as these that have, at a subconscious level, fostered my developing fetish for oversized sex toys.

I'm already in danger of getting bogged down in too much detail again and I expect you can imagine much of what happened over the next forty minutes as I pleasured Matt's prick in just about every way I could think of. By this time, several months after first fellating my lover, I had become far more skilled with my mouth. The Web had proved to be a valuable research tool in finding ways that I could learn to take more of Matt's cock, even though realistically I knew it was impossible that I would ever be able to fully throat a penis of that size. I discovered how important lubrication was, how to flatten my tongue, and with a well-oiled dildo I practised and practised until I could overcome my gag reflex, which was proving to be the biggest impediment to accommodating more of Matt.

After reading various articles I wasn't surprised to find that the sensation for my boyfriend of having his prick partially in my throat wasn't particularly overwhelming and he's never ejaculated in such a position, but both of us agree that it's just an amazingly horny, sexy thing for me to do. This is more than borne out when you see it on video, and Matt and I had a fantastic fuck (which was also filmed) when we played this scene back later. Yet my glossy lips are still three inches or so from his balls and I'd give anything to be able to get that last section of shaft in so that Martin could actually witness his wife kissing her lover's testicles as she greedily consumes all of his meat. It's even more frustrating when later in the video scene you see me lie on the bed on my back and let my head hang down over the edge. Matt kneels on a low stool and feeds his cock into my upside-down mouth, and this time as I gradually take in more and more I'm that little bit closer to full accommodation. If I could have just swallowed all of my lover's cock head, Martin would have seen the staggering sight of my throat bulging rhythmically outward as Matt pumped back and forth. Whether this is physically possible or not I don't know (supposedly it is), but having messed around with small dildos I certainly intend giving it a try with a more normal sized prick one day and I've added this to my list of 'must-dos' for the future.

The moment when Matt ejaculates into my mouth was unfortunately a bit of a disappointment, which was my own fault. I wanted Martin to see that I had swallowed all of the cum, so Matt's prick head had to be quite close to my mouth when he creamed. You see me open my mouth really wide as I masturbate my lover to climax, but instead of losing myself in the moment as I normally would without cameras, I was too intent on positioning his cock correctly and trying to keep my hand from blocking the view. As a result there's too much of a look of concentration on my face where there should have been only intense lust. So, while the slow motion shots of Matt's cum spurting into my waiting mouth are certainly dramatic, as far as I'm concerned I didn't get the perfection I wanted.

That was rectified on the Saturday morning, the last day we filmed, when we shot another close up cock-sucking scene, but this time with me in bondage. Whereas on the Tuesday I was sensuously making love to my boyfriend's prick, here I'm tied and immobilised and Matt is forcibly fucking my mouth just as if it were a wet pussy. This time I ignored the cameras around me and at the end of the scene when Matt masturbates himself to ejaculation my face is perfect, as if I'm having an orgasm at that moment (which isn't far from the truth). On this occasion Matt sprays his cum over my face, some of it going directly into my gaping mouth, with other threads landing on different parts of my face where they begin to trickle downward, only to be captured by my foraging tongue or guided into my mouth by Matt's fingers. To me the shots are absolutely sensational and the slow motion pictures are in a league of their own.

After years of filming scenes where I always take the dominant role, it was a fabulous experience to kneel before my lover and attend to him while he disciplined me. For a cuckold husband to watch his wife accommodating another man in this way is powerfully humiliating for him.
Maria attending to her lover

The other three scenes where I used Matt's full load for my games fall firmly into the bizarre/kinky category, and I'm a little hesitant to elaborate further on them. They might be more excusable if I could argue that their extremity was justified by the overwhelming desire to humiliate my husband, but the truth is that I filmed these acts because, above all else, it turned me on to do so. Here I was filming my own fantasies, not my husband's, even though I knew they would arouse him enormously. What this says about me as an individual I'm not sure, but I expect some of you will find them distasteful to say the least.

Although Matt was officially on holiday that week, I was to all intents and purposes at work as normal. We decided it would be a bad idea for us both to be off simultaneously and in any case it wasn't really a problem for me to not actually do much for a few days. I'm often away from the office and the only time anyone is going to query the hours I put in is if the fee revenues from my client base begins to drop. As long as I popped my head into work on a couple of days that week I knew I'd be okay.

For the Wednesday however I had also arranged a meeting with a client. I had an ulterior motive for this that went beyond covering my tracks for my liaison with Matt, but this is something I'll discuss in more detail in my next post as it has a significant bearing on how events have subsequently unfolded. All you need to know for now is that I was dressed very provocatively that day and had planned to video a little cameo with Matt before I left.

As the scene opens you see me sitting at the kitchen table with my head turned to one side so I can suck Matt who is standing beside me. I'm also masturbating him with my right hand. In front on me there's a white bowl on the table, and when the edited view switches to the second camera, you see that the bowl is full of strawberries. In the background you can hear the low buzzing of the vibrator that is being held inside me by my panties.

"That's it, my baby," you hear me say. "I want you to give me all of your cream..."

The scenario continues like this for a while - a pretty standard fellatio session - until it's obvious that Matt is approaching climax. At this point I stop sucking Matt, lift the bowl with my left hand and move it up to his cock so that it's angled towards it, and then I finish him off with my right hand.

The ejaculation is caught perfectly by the slow motion camera which was positioned to Matt's right (unfortunately it had to be in the main camera's field of view). You see ropes of cum squirt into the bowl. When Matt has emptied all of his load, I put the bowl back down again, pick up a single strawberry, and wipe it around Matt's prick head, squeezing the end of his cock with the fingers of my other hand to milk any last remaining drops of semen. You then see me look lovingly at this strawberry as I raise it up to my mouth, close my eyes, and sensually touch my tongue against it before taking a bite.

At this point we repositioned the cameras so that the rest of the scene would be totally centred on me eating the strawberries. One camera looks down into the bowl so you can see me pick up each strawberry and wipe it around to make sure it's fully cum-laden. The second camera shows my face at fairly close range, and the slow motion camera is zoomed up really close to my mouth. I then consume my special breakfast very slowly, making exaggerated, theatrical comments as I'm doing so:

"Hmm, I love strawberries and cream..."

"I think we need to take some of your special cream to a restaurant with us, Matt, so I can pour it over my dessert..."

"Wow, the cum on that one tasted gorgeous..."

Once again, some of the slow motion shots are the best. There's one particularly horny one where, just as I open my mouth, a thread of cum drips down from the strawberry on to my reaching tongue. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a bowl of strawberries again without thinking of Matt's juice sprayed over them.

If there's one weakness with all this it's that the cum doesn't appear to be bright white against the red strawberries as I expected. Instead it's somewhat transparent, appearing as a glistening translucent liquid rather than an opaque white one. I should have remembered this, because I'd shot a similar scene with Martin once where he'd been made to eat his own creamed strawberries. I'd like to shoot this little scenario again, this time with dark chocolate cake to see if I can get a better contrast between the dessert and its topping.

Kinky-cum scene number two occurred the following morning. It came at the end of quite a long session in which I'd performed a variety of acts with Matt. In this scenario Matt spanked me, whipped me, and screwed my pussy while I was on all fours, but he saved his ejaculation until the end, just as we had planned. The picture higher up the page is from this session, although by this time I'd removed my halter neck latex top and put on some thigh boots. I'm lying on my back on the floor, propping myself up on one elbow while my other arm is masturbating Matt, who is sitting in a chair leaning towards me. In my mouth I've got a transparent plastic funnel and it's totally obvious that when Matt comes, all of his ejaculation will spray into the funnel and thus be channelled into my mouth.

Imagine you're in this scene with me right now. Would you be able to give me what I want? I think you'd soon find yourself wishing you'd brought along some friends.
Maria at the filling station

It may seem odd to you that I would want pictures of such a nature - after all, why not just open my mouth and let Matt ejaculate directly into it? But for me there's something uniquely erotic about this act. For a start it's particularly depraved, and performing something so sordid on film really turns me on. Furthermore, it's tremendously submissive to my lover, something that inevitably wounds Martin each time he sees it. My husband knows that I don't particularly like the taste of cum, but here I am drinking it through a tube that guarantees that I will consume every drop, and experience its full texture and flavour in the process. When Matt has finished unloading into the funnel, you see me lie back, close my eyes, and finger myself to orgasm with my leather opera gloves, sucking hard on the tube to pull any remaining drops of semen through.

When I'm in such a state and nearing climax, any dislike of the taste of cum is completely overwhelmed by sexual arousal and quite frankly I can't get enough of the stuff. Matt didn't produce nearly enough milk to satisfy me and I just wish there had been additional men to ejaculate into the collection device as I was reaching orgasm. I have a recurrent fantasy about this sort of scene, where I'm lying in much the same state with the funnel in my mouth and several men simultaneously masturbate into the spout. However gross this may seem to you, it's a fabulous turn on for me, especially when I imagine Martin having to witness it - the men looking at him, laughing, as they fill me up.

The Friday morning's scenario is unquestionably the most extreme of them all. I was going to pop into the office for an hour or two that morning to update my files and deal with any mail that had arrived during the week. We filmed me getting dressed to go, much as I still do with Martin when he's at home. Outwardly I was dressed fairly soberly, apart from my shoes, which always mark me out as being somewhat different.

On film you see that I'm not wearing any panties and once I finish putting my make-up on and doing my hair, Matt enters the scene and we begin to kiss and caress each other. In due course my blouse is undone and my skirt is pulled up around my waist, and I end up sitting on the edge of my dressing table with Matt giving me a thorough screwing.

You see Matt have an intense climax just after I have orgasmed, and once we have both got our breath back and he withdraws from me, you see me pick up some briefs which have been lying beside me on the dresser. I don't know how to really describe these, but they're called 'knix', and they're stylish, high cut panties with an integral belt which is buckled at the waist. They're made of black transparent plastic and are part of a set which includes a buckled bra and a coat. You've seen this coat in the 5th November 2005 entry and in my previous post (the final picture), so you can imagine what the material looks like - see-through, unless it catches the light at a certain angle, when it becomes highly reflective. These briefs can be worn extremely tightly if you're prepared to tolerate the discomfort of the seams cutting into the skin.

You see me immediately press the crotch section of the knix to my pussy. Only seconds have elapsed since Matt withdrew, and now with the plastic pressed against me, all of his cum is trapped. Matt then helps me to finish putting on the panties, pulling them under me and fastening the side zips while I buckle up the front as tightly as I possibly can.

"Fantastic," you hear me say as I reach down and begin to press my fingers between my legs. At this point we stopped the cameras and I got Matt to hold one of them close up to my crotch area. With the video recording again, you see me gently massage myself for a few minutes. By squeezing my fingers back and forth against my pussy lips I gradually coax a good portion of Matt's sperm from inside me, but it can go no further than the dark plastic barrier of the briefs.

"Mmm, does it look as good as it feels?" I eventually ask.

"Oh yeah," says Matt. "I don't think you'll be disappointed."

With Matt still filming I then sit down on a chair in front of the long mirror and open my legs to see the effect for myself.

"Oh God, that's just amazing," I gasp. "Look at that gorgeous cum."

That comment wasn't just for the camera, it was completely genuine. What helped make the effect so compelling was that I had used the knix on a couple of occasions to hold dildos inside me, both front and rear, and the tension created by these toys had deformed the plastic outward very slightly. Matt's cum was collecting in these two 'traps'. When I sat down the jism trickled down to the pocket around my rear, and when I stood up some of it returned to the front, forming a small pool of fluid below my pussy.

When I pushed my fingers against myself I could make the semen move around, but only within the contained area of my crotch. I crossed my legs tightly, opened them again really wide, stood up and walked about, but no cum leaked out, and nor was it likely to. All I got was a lovely sensation of sticky wetness which under any normal circumstances would have been highly uncomfortable but in this case was incredibly erotic. This was especially true when I walked, with my leg movements causing the cum to constantly change position.

And so that's how I went to work that day. The experience of walking around the office chatting to colleagues with Matt's wet semen next to me was simply magical. Every time I stopped and talked to one of the girls the thought kept flashing into my head of what I was doing and I'd have to smile. Remember how you said you fancied Matt, Sue? Well, right now I'm standing in front of you with his cream in me. You'll hardly ever see me in a bad mood at any time, but I must have looked especially happy that day.

"Been a good week Maria?" said one of the receptionists. "You look like you're glowing."

"Oh yes," I replied, "it's been a great week. A really great week."

Matt was expecting me home within a couple of hours but I didn't want the feeling to end, and after I left the office I stopped in the city centre for half an hour, walking aimlessly around the shops. It didn't matter that I could no longer feel the wetness so easily, the fact was that I knew Matt's sticky cum was there, and that knowledge alone was enough to put me on a tremendous sexual high.

When I finally arrived home I practically grabbed Matt's hand and pulled it under my skirt.

"Oh, please, just play with me," I pleaded. "Just finger that spunk in me."

I finally managed to shake off the obsession of it all when Matt and I went upstairs and we filmed the postscript of the original scene. With my skirt and blouse removed I get on to my knees, unbuckle and unzip the briefs, and carefully lay them out in front of me. Then with my elbows resting on the floor and my backside high in the air, Matt enters my pussy from behind and gives me a deliciously slow, methodical fucking. While I'm being skilfully serviced in this manner, I bend my face down to the shiny plastic and lick my panties clean, running my tongue back and forth in long sweeps across the length of them. To me this is deviant sex at its mouth-watering best.

I hadn't anticipated Martin's reaction to this scene when he saw it for the first time. I figured that there were other images that were going to disturb/arouse him far more than these. I don't actually have to recall the moment - it's all on video, as are many sessions where Martin watches recordings of Matt and myself together. It's on a Sunday and we're in our main lounge. Martin is on all fours and I'm penetrating him from behind, something I regularly do when he watches these videos. It probably seemed like standard stuff at first to him, but when the realisation comes to him of what I'm about to do, he almost loses it:

"Oh, no. Oh Maria, that's fantastic. That's absolutely FANTASTIC."

I'd never had a verbal response like this from him before and it was a complete surprise to have him openly show enthusiasm for something I was doing with Matt. I'm sure there have been other times when he has had a similar reaction to the images, but on those occasions he has kept his thoughts to himself. Here though he couldn't contain his excitement.

"Like that do you?" I goad, and I reach under him and hold his prick with my gloved hand. "Ooh, you do like it don't you. That's the hardest you've been in a long while."

As I finger myself in close-up on the screen, manipulating the cum inside my plastic panties, Martin continues to rave about it:

"Look at that spunk! Just look at it! Aw, how do you do it? How the hell do you do it? How do you dream up these things?"

You can see Martin's prick is now really erect and I remember how hard it felt compared to what I had become used to. Momentarily lost in his own world of passion and devoid of any self-consciousness about his manhood, Martin's reaction gave me definitive proof that his erection problems are all in the mind. As such I know that with some time and effort I could restore his dignity and masculinity. Unfortunately for him, that's the last thing that I want. Although it's exciting to periodically see my husband so highly aroused, the enjoyment of seeing him grovel apologetically because of his lamentably flaccid cock is far more rewarding and is all the excuse I need to severely discipline him.

I will usually be extremely annoyed if Martin ejaculates before I give him permission to, but on this occasion I didn't object to his premature release when it came. Matt had followed me with the camera all the way to my car when I left for work that Friday, and on the screen you see me open my car door and sit on the seat, with my legs still outside the vehicle. I pull up my skirt and part my legs, and in the bright daylight you see me play with the shiny plastic cum-trap again, pressing two fingers hard underneath me to force the semen that has collected there back up to my vagina where it can be better viewed. Martin's cock explodes at this sight, and he sprays what seems like copious amounts of cum over the towel that is placed beneath him. You see a tear run down his cheek from his left eye, but he's not crying - it's just the sheer intensity of the orgasm. I wish you could see the recording of this session with my husband. The images are tremendously powerful.

Whatever your feelings about these kinky scenarios I've described, I hope you can at least appreciate the thread of symbolism that connects them all. A wife who demonstrates to her husband that she has consumed or is carrying another man's sperm is delivering an uncompromisingly powerful reminder of her husband's inadequacy and weakness. It shows that she is not content to enjoy an extramarital liaison for its own sake, but that she wishes to taunt and humiliate her spouse with the fact.

I know many wives in cuckold marriages enjoy arriving home with their panties still damp with their lover's cum, and from personal experience I can attest that the thrill of doing this - of showing those panties to one's husband and making him kiss and feel them - is quite beyond description. The same goes for a loaded condom, either in a handbag, or even better, knotted to a garter strap beneath a tight skirt.

But for me, wearing those shiny plastic knix and walking around with Matt's milk still in its fluid state lifted this experience on to a new plane. The feel of it against me; the wetness; the constant reminder of the huge cock that had produced it; but above all, the delicious excitement of wondering what those around me would think if they knew I was committing an act of such sublime depravity. And I'm sure it is for the latter reason that Martin went crazy with excitement when he witnessed what I had done.

Typically, this newfound trick fired my imagination to new levels too. If it was so intoxicating to carry Matt's semen like this, what would it be like with the cum of two lovers? Or three?

I really must learn to control my greed.




On the Tuesday of our filming week we videoed numerous scenes of me being penetrated by Matt. It may surprise you to learn that I wasn't actually looking forward to that day very much. I just knew it was going to be extremely hard work and would involve a considerable amount of repetition. I wanted shots of me being screwed in as many different ways as possible, in as many different locations as possible, and in as many different outfits as possible. This meant dressing meticulously, setting up cameras and test recording, shooting a few minutes in a particular position, then a few more in another position, then another, and so on. Then I'd change clothes, we'd reposition the cameras elsewhere in the house, and start all over again. It was tedious at times, although fortunately once Matt and I got going in each cameo things were far from dull and thankfully we never had to resort to pretence. The passion between us is entirely real.

The end results were more than worth the effort however, as I knew they would be. I deliberately tried to pick locations around the house that would serve as mental 'triggers' for Martin in the future. When we have guests for a dinner party, for example, there are going to be times when the image flashes into my husband's mind of me lying on my back on the dining table dressed in black leather, my long legs wrapped tightly around my lover's muscular back as he pumps his beautiful prick in and out of me. Or there's my en suite shower, where Matt fucks me while we're standing up, the hot water spraying over my black rubber stockings and six-inch heels (yes, heels in the shower!). And of course there's Martin's bed, with me facing the wall on all fours as I'm deep-screwed from behind, my nipples chained to the bedstead and Matt pulling the lead attached to the dog collar around my neck.

But what I think makes these images so powerful is the way in which I've edited them. I knew exactly how I wanted to do this weeks before Martin went away, and that was why I purchased a third camera. In many scenes I've overlaid the recording from the camera that was focused on my face as a small inset window in the corner of the main screen. With most of the screen showing what Matt is doing to me, either from full or close range, this smaller picture shows my reaction - every expression is captured in detail. Martin can see that my excitement and lust during foreplay goes well beyond any response I ever gave to him during our early years of marriage when he at least tried to act like a man. But it's when Matt's swollen cock head first touches my vagina lips and begins to open me up that you realise that the words I use to describe the ecstasy of having intercourse with my lover are not merely extravagant prose to stimulate the reader - I am simply doing my best to put into words something which is viscerally divine, a perfection of pleasure. You see my eyes close and my mouth open as I am transported to a utopian universe of beautiful men, massive pricks, spraying cum, and lashing whips.

If you had asked me twelve months ago how I would have wounded Martin with the ammunition of these images, I'd have told you that he would be spanked and whipped as I castigated him for his failure to measure up to a man like Matt. "Look at what he does to me! That's what a woman wants, what a woman deserves. I hope you're ashamed Martin, because I'm certainly ashamed to be married to you."

I can still be like this with Martin at times, but equally I can be more subtle. Sometimes these days I'll just sit beside my husband and gently masturbate him as he watches Matt screwing me, rather than restraining and punishing him. Here's a taste of the sort of 'innocent' dialogue I will use as we're viewing, spoken quite conversationally, as if I'm not really conscious that my words may inflict pain:

"Oh God, look at it... just look at it... it's unreal, isn't it? You wouldn't believe it could go in...

"...Oh yeah, I remember this bit. Look at my face, Martin... he's got me, he's really got me... I look like I'm going to pass out. You know, it's a load of bullshit about cock size being unimportant. I used to think that, but the thing is, when you and I used to have intercourse I was always trying to move so that I could get some action on my clit. But with a prick the size of Matt's I just have to lie there and let him fuck me. My clit can't escape his cock - it's permanently being massaged by it. And then there's that fabulous feeling of being completely filled on the forward thrusts, with his balls banging against me. Just unreal..."

What makes such commentary so powerful is that I never say anything that isn't essentially true. For years I bought into the 'it's not what he's got, it's what he does with it' line promoted by agony aunts in women's magazines. But now I wonder how many of these so-called 'experts' have actually taken an oversized cock up them while looking into the gorgeous eyes of its owner. I can only speak from personal experience of course, and I know from the correspondence I have received that other women disagree with me, but in my view there is all the difference in the world between a big-cock fuck and a normal one. All the difference in the world.




Montage of Maria

By the Tuesday lunchtime both Matt and I were beginning to wilt, and I was now feeling the effects of the hard bondage session of the previous day, not to mention the numerous penetrations I had received that morning. But I had allowed for this in my plans and so in the afternoon we filmed a number of 'slow screw' scenes, with one big kicker which added enormously to the excitement - I was making phone calls while Matt was inside me.

In all I make eleven calls - three to close friends, three to work colleagues, one to a business client, and four to relatives. Some of these conversations last only a few minutes, but at least one goes on for over twenty minutes. During the entirety of these calls, Matt never fails to remain hard. Maybe you're wondering why I'm constantly surprised by this ability of his but if you saw how long my husband keeps it up in comparison, you'd understand why I'm so impressed.

In most scenes Matt is lying on his back on my bed and I'm astride him, talking into the wireless headset linked to my phone as I slowly rotate my hips and skewer myself on his cock. I'm generally dressed as if I've just come home from work, although the various miniskirts I wear couldn't seriously be worn outside the house. My blouse is open and pulled back across my shoulders and Matt plays with my breasts as I chat into the microphone. In one scene you see Matt attach each end of a silver chain to my nipples which he then teasingly tugs on as I talk. The clamps on this chain are deliciously evil looking - three-pronged spring-loaded metal grabbers which feel sensational when they first bite into the nipple and when the chain is pulled.

For the calls I made to both my own and Martin's mother I wanted to be in as submissive a position as possible. These scenes were therefore shot in our kitchen with me bent over the breakfast bar, my hands handcuffed behind my back and the leg spreader clamped to my ankles. I'm wearing black leather in these shots - corset, low-cut bra, studded collar and opera gloves. I've also got on a pair of leather briefs and the crotch zip of this is fully undone. To fully expose my pussy, Matt has attached dog clips to either side of the panties and pulled them wide open, fastening the other end of the clips to my side suspenders. You might wonder what the point of this was - why not make things so much easier by not wearing any briefs at all? But it's touches like this that I believe make a huge difference to the eroticism of such a scene. The stretched open leather creates a diamond shape around my vagina and anus, and the sense of impending violation is so much greater. You have to see it to appreciate it, but I'm afraid I don't feel able to show such explicit shots.

Originally I was bound into the single-arm leather bondage glove, but just from speaking to Matt when he'd laced it up I knew I wouldn't be able to talk on the phone freely for long without my bodily tension becoming obvious to the listener. So we settled for the handcuffs, and even with these on I had to concentrate very hard to maintain a relaxed, conversational tone. At one point my mother commented that I sounded stressed, and on the spur of the moment I said: "Yeah, I've had a hard day". I wasn't kidding.

Right now I'm intermittently watching the video of me holding these two conversations and I'm reminded of the extraordinary thrill I got from making everyday chit-chat while bent over in bondage, with my lover rhythmically fucking my pussy from behind. During both conversations you see Matt withdraw from me and start inserting items into me. To the viewer it's plain what objects he's holding, but remember that I was facing the other way and could only guess at what I was being penetrated with. For example, I didn't realise until I actually viewed the scene that Matt had masturbated me with my mobile phone. On the close up camera you see that he even tries to push it into my pussy at one point and I'm not sure what would have happened to the reception if he had succeeded!

I didn't orgasm during any of the phone calls I made, but it was a very, very close call when I was speaking to my mother. I've told you before how she adores Martin and how she never sees any fault in him. If she ever finds out that I have done this to her, that I have intentionally indulged in perverted sexual acts with another man while talking to her, then I seriously doubt that she will ever find it in her heart to forgive me. Is it worth losing the respect and friendship of my own mother just for a few minutes of warped gratification? It shouldn't be, I know, but it's that very risk that gives the scenario such intensity. Sure, I feel guilty about it sometimes, but watching this scene is still a massive turn on for me and later tonight in bed I expect I'll be thinking of it as I caress my favourite black rubber dildo before going to sleep.

The call to Martin's mother, Grace, was the final one I made, and I really did want to orgasm during this one. I had plenty of time (that conversation went on for over a quarter of an hour) but just as Matt was working me to climax, Grace cut the call short. Someone had come to her door and she had to go. It was unfortunate, but I wasn't particularly gutted. I knew we'd got some great shots and there is one fabulous moment where Matt is simultaneously wanking both my arse and pussy with objects as I'm chatting away to Grace. The item pleasuring my vagina is just a standard dildo, but the thing in my rear is not a sex toy - it's a glass object given to Martin by his mother as a birthday present years before I even met him.

I am just desperate for Grace to see these images, though realistically she never will. The thought of her watching me being pussy- and ass-fucked in such shockingly debauched circumstances makes me go weak at the knees.




The phone calls were the last scenes we shot that day, and for the rest of the evening we just chilled out in the main lounge watching TV. We didn't even play the videos back as we had done the day before. I think we'd both had enough for one day.

It was while we were sitting there that Matt made what I'm sure he thought would be a fairly inconsequential comment:

"Knowing how your devious mind works, I'm surprised you weren't a little more scheming with Martin's mum while he was away."

That certainly stopped me short. "How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, I know how much you like the thought of her gradually finding out about you. I figured you might, say, have gone round to her house wearing something a bit unusual. You know what I mean - set her thinking."

I considered this for a moment and the hilarious image entered my head of Grace answering the door to find me standing there in thigh boots and holding a coiled bullwhip. "Oh, hi there Grace, I've come to give George a thrashing. I've got a spare strapon in the car if you want to join in..."

All the same, Matt had set me thinking. It actually bugged me that I hadn't at least contemplated such an idea myself.

"It's not too late," I said. "I could finish off some of the stuff she wants from me for her charity and I could drop it round on Thursday some time - or Friday. And how about if you came with me and I introduced you - you know, we could be coming back from a business meeting. I could wear a miniskirt with the outline of my suspenders showing, and some over-the-knee boots, and even some..."

"Whoa," Matt laughed, "whatever happened to subtlety? I thought the idea was to set some subliminal alarm bells ringing. You might as well hold up a sign that says 'Maria the Whore'. Anyway, I don't think it's a good idea to have me with you. If you were really having an affair, would you seriously take your boyfriend round to your mum-in-law's house? I don't think so."

He was right of course, but we talked it through for quite some time and came up with a potential scenario which wasn't too over the top, but which would inevitably set Grace thinking. At first our discussion was merely hypothetical but by the end of it I had become very keen on the idea.

"If she's in on Friday night, I'm going to do it," I said. "Seriously, I'm going to do it."

I rang her up the following morning as I was about to leave for my business meeting, having just enjoyed some very tasty strawberries and cream for breakfast.

"Oh hi Grace, it's Maria. I forgot to ask you yesterday... are you in on Friday night, about 8.15? I'm going to a client's party and your house is on the way. I've finished those finance recommendations that you wanted, and I could drop them in to you... Yes? Okay, that's great. I'll see you Friday then. Yes, 8.15 to 8.30, something like that. Okay... yes okay... bye."

Matt had persuaded me that leather skirts and high boots should wait for another day. On this initial occasion, he argued, what was warranted was an image of sexiness that Grace had never really seen before, an indication that there was a side to me that had never been revealed to her, except perhaps for that time when she saw me at the accountants' offices. Matt suggested something like a fairly skimpy, tight black party dress as the central item of clothing, and we could create the rest of the effect with the accessories.

The following afternoon I tried on some of my dresses with Matt watching but we couldn't find one that seemed to fit the bill. Matt wanted a strapless dress, with my breasts pushed up and highly prominent, but I didn't have anything like this in my wardrobe.

"I've got a leather corset with a sort of lacy net skirt attached to it," I said in desperation. "It certainly pushes my boobs up, but my coat would have to be done up. I know it's not really what you want."

"What the heck, give it a try," said Matt.

He didn't sound convinced, but as soon as he started fastening the rear hooks we both knew we were on to something.

"That's exactly the effect I wanted," he enthused as he looked at my breasts in the mirror.

Once the corset was properly on he stood back and looked me up and down. "Brilliant," he said, "that's the one."

The original plan was for me to have my coat open at the front so Grace could see how revealing the dress was, but there was no way I could do that now.

"At least I'll be able to lengthen the suspenders," I said, "and I'm going to be more risqué with the stockings and shoes now."

I then took the corset off and we played some other games, but my mind kept drifting to the proposed visit to Grace's. I could feel the excitement building in me.

When I finally started to get ready on the Friday, it must have been one of the longest preparations ever for an encounter that was planned to last all of two minutes. I spent a long time doing my make-up, trying to create that perfect look. When we visit Martin's parents I usually tone down the war paint, trying to keep a sort of fresh innocence about me. That night Grace would see a complete contrast, but I didn't want to overdo it. I wanted sexy, not vampish. Personally, when I look at the video we filmed of me, I think the best part of it is my eye make-up, with just the right balance of eye shadow, liner and mascara. But Matt thinks my lips are the real killer - 'glossed for cock' he says, although I think he's just seeing what he wants to see.

As soon as he'd fastened me into the corset again Matt started filming me. "Just wonderful," he said as he held the camera a few feet away from me. "Jeeze, why don't you show your tits off like that more often? They look great."

I put on some sheer black stockings which had a highly prominent seam and then Matt helped me put on my triple-strapped patent shoes.

"Are you sure these aren't a bit too in-your-face?" he asked.

"Oh I know they are," I said, "but it'll be getting dark remember. They're a bit trashy, but these are the highest heels I've got that I can wear outdoors. I want her to be shocked that I would want to wear heels that are nearly six inches high, and she'll wonder how I'm able to walk in them so easily."

For jewellery I tried on some of my exotic silver collection, but these all looked too over the top. The handcuff earrings and the padlock earrings were too blatant, as was the small penis charm necklace. And the whip earrings would just look like unremarkable dangly ones in the semi-darkness of the evening. In the end I settled for a double string pearl necklace with matching earrings. It was a good choice - they looked very classy.

I briefly slipped on the coat I was planning to wear, just to try it out.

"It's not too short is it?" I asked Matt.

"No, not really," he said, "and it looks great. You just see your long legs disappear under the coat and it's easy to imagine you're wearing a very short dress."

I sat down on the chair and got Matt to check that my stocking tops wouldn't be visible as I sat in the car. I then pulled the coat up a little so that a suspender strap was openly on display, with a small strip of flesh in view as well.

"You know I could 'accidentally' give this view when I get back into the car if pull my coat back far enough," I mused. "Do you think that would be too much?"

"Hmm, could you do it just for a moment? Just a very brief flash?"

"I could try," I said. "We'll have a go in a bit. I reckon the seams will tell her I'm wearing stockings, but it would be great to leave her in no doubt whatsoever."

I stood up again and studied myself in the full-length mirror. The tops of my breasts were clearly visible and Grace would see the black satin frill of the corset, with a small patch of leather beneath it.

"Can you go and get me my opera gloves?" I asked Matt as I took the coat off again. "My best ones, not the ones I've been wearing on video. They're in a thin box on the top shelf of the right wardrobe."

I hadn't planned on wearing the gloves, but apart from the fact that they would add significantly to my air of elegance, I thought they might send an extra message to Grace. She remembers an age when such gloves were far more prevalent and she might well be aware of the sexual connotations of the black leather variety.

Matt returned with the gloves and filmed me as I eased the soft, shiny leather on to my arms. "Dynamite," he said. "It adds enormously to the effect. But she won't see them will she?"

"Not entirely, no," I said as I put the coat back on. "But suppose I move to adjust my hair, like this..."

I reached up with my arm and the sleeve of the coat fell down a little as I did so. It was clear that the gloves didn't stop at the wrist, and the buttons were in plain view.

"She'll know what these are, Matt. It's the buttons that give it away. She might think they're only elbow length, but even that's highly unusual."

We went downstairs, and in final preparation Matt took a number of shots of me getting in and out of my car. I tried holding my coat in several positions so we could try to find a way of giving a fleeting glimpse of my stocking top. In the end I found a very easy method. Normally I would gather the coat under me as I got into the car to prevent it riding up. If I didn't do this and instead held my hand against my waist, the coat would naturally pull upwards, revealing more of my legs. We did several tests of this and got pretty much the same result every time. Grace would only get this glimpse for a moment - a moment that would hopefully leave her with much to dwell upon. Her daughter-in-law was going to a party without her husband, and she was dressed to excite men.

About half an hour before the time when I had to leave I asked Matt whether he would come with me for company. "I could drop you off in Middleton while I go to see Grace and then pick you up again afterwards."

"Sure," agreed Matt. "Do you want me to smarten up a bit - put on a jacket? We might want to stop somewhere after you've seen her and I'll need to look the part."

I was a little dubious. We had already been out that lunchtime and although outwardly my clothing hadn't been too flagrant, I had worn a dildo harness underneath my skirt. Matt had loved it and my bottom was still a little sore from the subsequent caning he'd given me "for being a naughty girl".

"I don't know. I mean, where can we go with me stuck in this coat?"

"I'll think about it," he said as he went upstairs to get ready. When he came back down and went to put on his jacket he said:

"I reckon we should go to my old local. See the friends I told you about."

"Oh Matt, no," I groaned. "Not there."

Matt had mentioned visiting his old drinking haunt before. When he had split from his wife he moved out of the family home and lived in an apartment in a nearby area for a few months. He had started visiting the local pub there and he'd been taken under the wing of three of the locals who apparently felt sorry for him because he looked so miserable. These three men were older than Matt, and despite their totally different backgrounds and education Matt had formed a close friendship with them. For a while he was at the pub with them every weekday.

Matt still kept in touch and saw them occasionally. He wanted to take me to the pub one night to show me off, dressed in either my high boots or a tight leather skirt. However I was far from keen. It wasn't really the sort of place where I would get a kick out of exhibiting myself. I promised I would go one day just for Matt's sake, but I certainly didn't feel like it that night, especially as I was ostensibly dressed for somewhere far classier.

"It's the only place I can think of where you can have some fun," Matt persisted.

He outlined his idea, and although it had potential I still wasn't convinced. "It's at least half-an-hour away from Grace's place, and the journey back here will take even longer. Is it really worth it, just for a quick drink?"

"That's up to you," he said. "Depends whether you want to tease some prick. I'd certainly like to show you off."

Tease some prick. He was certainly learning how to play me.

He saw me beginning to waver. "Look," he said, "I'll give Phil a call to make sure he's at the pub tonight and I'll tell him that I may drop in later if I've got time. No commitments. Then we'll see how you feel about it after you've seen your mother-in-law."

"Okay," I said. This was fair enough. All I had to do was say 'no' if I didn't feel like it.

On the way to see Grace I had quite a heart-to-heart with Matt about our relationship and where it might lead, but I'll expand on this in my next entry. By the time I dropped him off before going on to the house I had been able to discuss some things with him that had been on my mind for some considerable time, and although not all of the issues had been resolved it felt as though a large weight had been removed from my shoulders.

As I finally drove up Grace's long driveway I was trembling slightly. This had seemed a great idea earlier, but now as the moment approached I'll admit I experienced some stage fright. Come on, you're not wearing anything visibly outrageous. But deep down I knew that from this moment forward my mother-in-law was going to start seeing me in a new light. The thought of that was almost as unnerving as it was appealing.

I swung my car round so that the passenger door was facing her front door. It was quite dark by now and she had put on the outside lights. A security light also came on as I got out of the car. The lighting was perfect for me, which is why I had wanted to arrive quite late. I knew that the sexy look would be accentuated by the high contrast light and shadow.

The woman who walked up to Grace's front doorway that evening wasn't the woman who had visited that house so many times before. She walked slowly, sexily, with long steps from endless black stockinged legs, her suspenders stretching then easing again with each stride. With her shoulders set confidently back, her tightly encased breasts were openly on display, fighting to squeeze out the top of a black leather corset. And as she raised her arm to ring the doorbell, you saw the beautiful, shiny black leather of her expensive wrist-buttoned gloves emerge from the sleeve of her coat.

Grace's reaction as she opened the door was priceless, but no more than I was expecting. She had her usual patronising smile, which admirably never faltered when she saw me. But she couldn't hide the reflexive narrowing of her eyes or the flaring of her nostrils. Her gaze was clearly drawn instantly to my breasts, and it lingered too long for politeness. Then she caught herself, and the recovery was amazingly impressive. There was no hint of either judgement or disapproval for the rest of the conversation.

"Hello, Maria. You do look glamorous, dear. Where did you say you were going?"

"To a party," I said. There was no trembling now. I was loving it. "It's a client's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary."

"Oh, how nice," she said, pronouncing 'nice' in the clipped way that always irritates me. "Where does he live?"

In Grace's world, clients can only ever be a 'he'.

"Just outside Sawbridge. That's why it's so convenient to drop these off..."

I handed her the large envelope I was carrying. It had been a complete pain finishing the paperwork she wanted, especially as it had interrupted some of my games, but it was worth it for this. Boy, was it worth it.

As she took the package from me I moved my hand up to my hair and flicked it back a couple of times, giving her a good view of the opera gloves. Her eyes didn't betray anything, but I knew she would have taken it all in. Nothing like that escapes her.

"Thank you so much, dear. I really appreciate all the help you give me."

There was a pause. I said nothing, just smiled. It was so enjoyable to be looking down on her with my heels on. I had the dominant position and she seemed so small and inferior in comparison.

"So, Martin's back on Sunday is he?" she said, a pointless question because she knew full well that he was returning then. She just felt she had to say something.

"Yes, Sunday afternoon," I confirmed. Another pause, uncomfortable now. "Anyway," I said, "I'd better get going. I'm a little late as it is."

As I turned to leave Grace found something to say:

"Doesn't it bother you, going alone to a function like that?"

I think it was a genuine question. The way she said it, it didn't sound loaded. But wow, what an opportunity, and the fact that I was able to consider my response and formulate the perfect answer with barely a pause shows just how heightened my awareness and thinking were at that moment.

"No, it's okay. There'll be a lot of businessmen there that I know. I won't be neglected."

And with that I turned and walked to my car. This was the second time that I'd done this in front of Grace, but on this occasion I was more than happy for her to fully absorb the sight of me in six-inch heels and seamed black nylons.

I opened the car door and took a deep breath as I prepared to get inside. By this time I knew that I'd done enough, and the stocking flash was unnecessary. But that didn't stop me climbing inside awkwardly as I had planned, allowing the coat to ride up my legs. Three seconds of exhibitionism; three seconds that I sensed would permanently alter my relationship with Grace from that point onwards. It was as beautiful as it was unforgettable.

I smiled to Grace as I reached to close the door. "Bye," I said.

I didn't catch any response, if indeed she even made one. Nor could I see her face properly with the hall light behind her. But I don't think she was smiling.

When I stopped to pick up Matt I got him to stand about thirty feet away from the car as Grace had been, and I opened the car door. "Did she get it?" I asked. "Remember, she was higher up on the steps."

"Definitely," said Matt. "You sure you didn't go higher than that? That would have been too much."

"No, this is pretty much as it was, I think. I've not adjusted the coat since I left there."

I was on a massive high from that point onwards, and when Matt asked whether I was game for a visit to his old pub I said sure, let's do it. I'd have probably agreed to anything at that moment.

At first glance there is nothing particularly striking about what I was wearing when I called on Grace, but the height and styling of the shoes, and the stocking seams, would have set alarms bells ringing with my mother-in-law.
Maria in overcoat and high heels



This is the sort of glimpse that I believe Grace was given when I was just about to leave. What conclusions would you draw about a woman who is going to a party wearing 6-inch heels and black seamed stockings?
Maria reveals a stocking top

[Originally I wasn't going to acquaint you with the visit to the pub to see Matt's friends. It's one of those episodes that either needs to be recounted in full or not recounted at all, and as far as I'm concerned the event is not so noteworthy that it really warrants my time and effort retelling it. But I've included it for two reasons: first, I want to see if you can understand for yourself why I don't consider it overly significant. I want you to compare this public show to the one I made in the Puss In Boots entry, which was a far more erotically exciting and memorable adventure for me. Second, the occasion demanded a certain amount of role-play from both Matt and myself, and although in this case it was only minor, it serves as an example of the special rapport that we have with each other. Pre-planning a make-believe scenario and then acting it out in public is becoming a very important part of our relationship. We both find it surprisingly easy to do, primarily because we're not afraid to fully immerse ourselves in our respective roles. This is enabling us to take sexual fantasy from behind closed doors into the outside world, where there is more risk but a correspondingly greater level of excitement.]

I had that same familiar tingle between my legs when we walked into that pub. I looked totally out of place, as did Matt in his smart shirt and jacket. Practically everyone was in jeans and a casual shirt or top, and the few middle-aged women in there looked like they were well past caring about how they appeared to the opposite sex. I couldn't blame them judging by the look of some of their male escorts. Despite the unappealing nature of the place, at least it meant that all eyes were suddenly on me and I was acutely aware of how I was being carefully studied as we walked through the main bar to the two pool tables at the far end.

It occurred to me once again that I could never have done such a thing with Martin. I was ridiculously tall - nearly 6' 3" in my skyscraper heels - and yet that isn't in any way an issue when I am in Matt's company. The fact that he is so tall and attractive gives me enormous credibility whenever he's with me.

One of his friends saw him coming across the room.

"Hey, look who's here! Long time no see, buddy!"

Matt walked up and shook hands with a round-faced, somewhat overweight man who looked like he was still wearing his work overalls. I'd guess he was approaching fifty, but I'm not the greatest judge of age. Matt immediately ushered me forward.

"Ron, this is Maria. Maria... Ron."

"Hello, Ron," I said with a bright smile as I shook hands. It was originally going to be a sexy one, but as soon as I saw Matt's friend at close range and looked into his kind eyes, I couldn't help but change tack. It's remarkable how you can so often sum people up at that very first moment of contact. What Matt had told me was right - he was salt-of-the-earth.

I saw two other men walking around the pool table. "Hello, Matt, good to see you again, mate," one of them said. Matt shook hands with both of them and once again introduced me.

"Okay, this is Jim, and this is Phil. If you've ever got anything wrong with your computer, don't get Phil to fix it. He's bloody useless."

"Oy, don't blame me," said Phil with feigned hurt as he walked up and shook my hand. "Hello Maria, it's a real pleasure to meet you." He scowled at Matt. "...unlike some."

Jim was just behind him and I immediately sensed that he was more retiring than his friends. He could well have been the same age as the other two, but he looked like he had worn better. He was quite soft-spoken and had a northern accent which I couldn't quite place. "Hello, pleased to meet you," he said, and he clearly found it hard to maintain eye contact. I got the feeling he wasn't too happy about having his Friday night interrupted like this.

"Hello, Jim," I said, trying to give him my friendliest smile to put him at ease. On the way to the pub I'd been psyching myself up for my best 'sexy vixen' mode, but that had already flown out of the window.

"What can I get you boys to drink?" asked Matt.

"No, no," said Phil. "It's my round. What can I get you, Maria?"

"Just a tonic water, please."

"Are you sure? Nothing stronger?"

"No, it's okay, I'm driving."

"Ye gods," Ron laughed. "Matt, you've found the perfect woman. She looks great, and she does all the driving!"

"The usual for you, Matt?" Phil asked him.

"Yeah, that's great thanks," Matt confirmed.

As Phil wandered off to get the drinks, Matt went to get me a chair. There were some close by which were just normal height but he went over to the bar and came back with a much higher one. It was exactly what I wanted. I now had my throne and could pose for my court.

"You got time for a quick game, Matt?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, sure. That okay?" he asked me.

"Yes, of course," I said.

As the three of them set up the table and chalked their cues, I got on to my perch. I had to be very careful how I sat. I didn't dare cross my legs, as the coat would have immediately ridden up too high. Instead I held my legs together and rested my feet on the wooden cross bar of the chair. As I flicked my hair back I casually glanced around me, as if looking at nothing in particular. A ripple of excitement coursed through me as I noticed men's faces turning away as my eyes moved to them, only to turn back towards me when my focus had apparently shifted elsewhere. The shoes must have looked amazing as I sat there, and onlookers would have seen the sexy black stocking seams as I had walked through the bar.

Phil came back with a tray of drinks. "Where are you off to Matt?" he asked as he handed them round.

"A client's sixtieth birthday party," Matt said. "Over at Hillchurch."

I laughed inwardly. Client parties were springing up everywhere that night.

"Actually," Matt continued, "he's Maria's client."

"Oh, you work with Matt then?" Phil asked me.

I looked over at Matt and gave him a sexy look. I wanted his friends to be in no doubt about the chemistry between us. "Well, I work for Matt," I said, still looking intensely at my lover.

"Ah, that's why you're doing the driving," Ron laughed. "Bloody bosses. Same everywhere."

Matt shrugged. "Ron services and repairs Jaguars," he told me. "He's got a thing against those who drive them."

They started playing their game. As I watched Matt take a shot, I found myself wishing that I was one of the players. The onlookers in the pub would have been presented with a very special sight as I leaned over the table, my stocking tops and panties fully exposed from behind and my breasts falling out of the corset from the front. I began to drift into outrageous fantasy then, imagining Matt pulling my panties down in full view of everyone and, with me still bent over the table, working the pool cue into my rear. Then when I'd been opened up, the guys in the bar would...

"Bit late, this party isn't it?" said Jim. The fantasy images dissolved as I was brought back to full consciousness by this question. This was Matt's opening, but if it hadn't come soon he'd have made one himself.

"Well, we're arriving deliberately late. Apparently the birthday boy's got a real thing about Maria, and his wife asked if she'd come as a kissogram, just for a laugh."

There was a sudden silence as this registered, broken eventually by a thinly disguised expletive from Phil. For a moment I wondered whether that might be it; whether Matt's friends were too polite to say any more. But I don't know why I worried - men will always be men.

"So that's why you've kept the coat on," Ron said to me. It was warm in the bar, and although we were only staying briefly it must have seemed strange that I hadn't even unfastened my coat.

I had just raised my glass to my mouth as Ron said this and I gave him a conspiratorial look over the top of it before I made a reply, saying the words slowly:

"That's... why... I've kept... the coat on."

Phil wiped his hand across his brow. "Phew, hot in here, innit," he said, and we all began to laugh.

They started to play pool again, but Ron only lasted a minute or so before he said what was on his mind.

"C'mon Maria, you can't do this to us. How many people will there be at this party?"

"I not sure," I said. "I think his wife said eighty or so."

"Okay," continued Ron, obviously getting into his stride. "In half an hour or so, you're going to be taking that coat off in front of eighty people and sitting on some old boy's knee blowing kisses into his ear..."

I kept the same impish smile on my face. I wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"And your point is...?"

"And my point is..." he said, and hesitated.

Phil came to the rescue: "...and his point is that you need some practice before you go there. A dummy run."

We all burst out laughing, and I shook my head.

"Nice try guys, and if it was just you three, maybe I'd think about it. But look around you." I swept my arm in a semicircle towards the bar. "They don't know what's going on."

"They're not even looking," Ron argued. "Anyway, you know you're tempted."

Then even quiet Jim chimed in, testimony to the power of temptation over inhibition.

"Aw c'mon, Maria, it's just a bit of fun."

"Yeah, c'mon Maria, it's just a bit of fun," a voice echoed and this one took me by surprise. It had come from behind me and I turned my head to see the two guys on the adjacent table grinning as they played on, apparently not even looking at me. I had no idea which one of them had said it.

"Oh, look this is so unfair," I protested, throwing my arms up in the air. But I was still smiling and the men around me just stood expectantly. They sensed victory.

I let out an exaggerated sigh and allowed my head to drop as if I had become resigned to my fate. As I reached for the full length zip of my coat I was struck by the familiarity of the situation. I had never done this in a bar before, but a similar scenario had been played out on a number of occasions at the fancy dress parties I had been to with Martin in the past. That didn't mean the experience was any less exciting though, and here I had the added attraction that no one in that room apart from Matt had ever seen me before.

To reveal one's sexy underwear in front of a group of leering men is a thrilling thing to do, yet as I have indicated before it doesn't hold the same eroticism for me as, for example, walking down a high street in thigh length boots. I think this goes for the men as well. I have never seen a man become accidentally erect in situations such as the one in the pub that night, yet I have witnessed such a reaction when I'm wearing high boots or when I'm in a leather skirt with my garter straps in blatant outline.

All the same, don't get the impression that I wasn't turned on as I slowly undid the coat. As Matt could attest later, my black silk panties were by this time damp with excitement and I would have loved to have had some sort of artificial stimulation inside me. I was no longer aware of any sounds around me and I could feel my heart thumping in my chest as the moment drew near when the coat would be opened. I could see my breasts heaving as my hand slowly pulled the zip down, and instinctively I pushed them outward and pulled in my stomach in preparation. I knew the first glimpse was the most important one.

As far as I was concerned I was calm and aloof as I prepared to reveal all, but Matt saw a different Maria. He says her eyes were shining with anticipation and it was as plain as day that she was getting off on the attention. It made it all the more riveting to watch her, knowing that it was making her hot. And, if you knew her well, she made that giveaway move with her mouth that told you what was going through her mind - she was pouting for cock.

I honestly can't recall what comments were first made when I pulled the coat open and rested my hands on my hips, finally letting everyone get their kick out of ogling me. I can't even remember what I was looking at. All that comes to mind is the memory of wanting to reach down between my legs at that moment and play with myself in front of them all. Some ten seconds must have passed before I emerged from this surreal state and began to hear again. Then the comments began to register, and they were such fun to listen to - typically dry, innuendo-laced Brit humour:

"Where did you say this party is, Matt? I think I may have to gatecrash."

"Bloody hell, you wait till she sits on the old boy's knee. It'll be Maria who gets the birthday present!"

"Oh well, I know what I want for Christmas now."

"Yeah, she can sit on the top of my Christmas tree any time..."

This last one was from the other table again and I turned round with my mouth wide open as if I were appalled at what had been said. But I couldn't hide the fact that I found it so funny, and I broke into laughter with everyone else.

Then someone called over from the bar in a jocular voice: "Hey, Ron, what are you up to over there?"

My coat was pulled right back now and I don't think there was a local in the pub who didn't have his or her eyes focused on me.

"Trainee stripogram," Ron shouted back. "We're just checking her out."

"Yeah, we can all see that," some wag called out.

"Kissogram," I corrected. "I'm a kissogram, not stripogram."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Ron, waving his arm dismissively. "Same thing."

There was a flash from the other side from the room, and Phil immediately hurried towards his coat with excitement.

"Camera phone! Camera phone!" he announced with glee.

"No way," I laughed, and I pulled the coat closed to cover me.

He put his hand back into his jacket, looking forlorn. "No camera phone... No camera phone..."

And so it went on. I just sat there and let them get on with it, milking the moment for all it was worth. At one point I looked over to Matt and found him studying me with that same mirthful look that had made me fall for him from the day I first met him. I love you, I said with my eyes.

We stayed for another ten minutes or so, although they never did manage to finish their game. Matt's friends predictably all had a kiss from me when we said our goodbyes. The comments were still flying.

"You'd better bring her back, Matt. Don't let my wife know though."

"Do all the girls at your place look like this?" Phil asked Matt.

Matt turned and looked at me for moment, contemplating.

"Nah," he suddenly said, "most of them are younger and more attractive."

I pretended to kick him.

"Ooh, ooh," said Ron. "Get him with those sexy heels."

As we turned to leave Phil stopped me. "Hey, come on Maria, one pic with my camera. Please... make an old man happy. Otherwise the boys at work will never believe me."

"You're not that old," I giggled.

"Hey, old enough," he said with indignation.

I looked at Matt. He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

I sighed again, and that was all Phil needed to hear. He rushed for his phone.

I think it was that moment that maybe did it for all of them - everyone in the pub included. As Phil returned I simply pulled the coat back all the way and let it fall from my shoulders. I then draped it over the pool table.

All this time they hadn't really had a full view of me - the coat had still concealed a great deal. Nor could they have known that my gloves went as far as they did up my arms.

"Wow," Ron laughed, but this time there was a hint of embarrassment.

I went and sat on the chair and posed, turning slightly sideways with my legs together, one hand resting on my knee and the other on arm of the chair. I swept back my hair and put on an unsmiling, haughty face.

"Okay, she's done this before," Ron joked. Ain't that the truth, I thought.

Phil took at least four shots of me sitting down like this, but I wouldn't be surprised if he'd set the video option going at some point as well. He had a huge grin on his face.

"Happy now?" I said as I put my coat back on.

"Oh yeah," he said. "It's been my birthday as well today."

This is essentially what I looked like when I unzipped my coat in the pub and revealed my leather corset and stockings. Do you think I could make it as a kissogram girl?
Maria the kissogram girl



Once I'd taken my coat off fully I posed like this for Phil, who had suddenly developed a keen interest in photography. The leather opera gloves were a huge hit.
Maria wears a leather corset and leather opera gloves



Would you like to get this close? Unless you can demonstrate that you're a man worthy of my attention, I'll only allow you to kiss the leather in worship, not touch me with your hands.
Close up view of Maria's leather corset and leather opera gloves



This is the view of me you would have witnessed if you'd been standing at the bar that night when Phil took his pictures. For some strange reason everyone momentarily forgot about their drinks and watched me instead.
Maria poses in her leather corset and six-inch heels

Once in the car I pulled Matt to me and gave him a long kiss. "Thanks baby," I said, "that was fun."

"Hmm, I got the feeling you were enjoying yourself," he chuckled.

I pulled his hand over and guided it between my legs. "That's how much I enjoyed it," I said seriously as I pressed his fingers against my panties.

"I'm not surprised," he said. "We'll have to come again some time. You could wear your boots. That would really do it for them."

I was suddenly hit by a feeling of déjà vu as he said this. If it hadn't been for the different voice and physical appearance it could have been Martin sitting next to me. It hadn't really occurred to me before that moment that Matt was getting much the same kick from parading me that my husband enjoyed. Did I simply attract this sort of man, or did being with me change them in some way?

The journey home went very quickly as we reminisced about what had happened. Matt revealed that Ron had taken him to one side when I was distracted and whispered: "Are you going to get some of that tonight?" Matt admitted that he'd wanted to say: "No, I'm going to get all of it.", but in fact he gave a far more chivalrous response (or so he claims).

I told Matt that for me the real turn on was knowing that many of those men in the pub that night would masturbate later, thinking only of me. Even a man who rolled over on to his wife would eventually close his eyes and drift off to a world where Maria would kneel in her leather corset and suck his cock until his balls ached with evacuation. And Phil would be at home soon, standing over the wash basin with his phone in one hand, his other pumping away until his cum sprayed in long ropes into the bowl.

"All that sperm being released tonight," I smiled. "All in homage to me."

"It was the leather corset that really did it," said Matt. "No one expected that. Why would a woman be wearing leather like that? And the gloves too. What does that say about her? Jeeze, I'm going to give you such a fucking when we get back."

"No you're not," I told him. There's a lot I want to do tomorrow, and remember, you're going to be spraying my face. I need that video. I'm not going to risk you having an accident while you screw me."

"Aw, come on, no way," he said. "You know I've got to have you."

"You come without my permission, Matt, and you're going straight home."

I didn't even blink when I said it. It just rolled right off the tongue. It should have been a tense moment between us, a moment of challenge where Matt would seek to establish his authority. But instead he didn't reply. He just sat there and took it.

...without my permission... you're going straight home...

Maybe it hadn't registered with him, but it sure as heck registered with me. But I wasn't entirely surprised. Deep down I had a very close handle on our relationship. I am what I am, and I know my power. I don't think that will ever change now.

Matt used dildos on me when we got home and I felt no guilt whatsoever in enjoying two thrilling orgasms while Matt was denied even a single one, but maybe that's why he came over my face so impressively on the Saturday morning - all that pent-up passion released in one unforgettable moment.

The memory of that pub visit will fade; the memory of my few minutes with Grace never will. Knowing that my mother-in-law has seen me dressed in such a manner while Martin was away from home still has me wondering about what has been going through her mind since then. She may be in her later years, but she's by no means naive about the ways of the world. Do dark thoughts about me invade her mind when she sees me? Did I go outside at the party and kiss a man and let him rub his hands against me? Did I reach down and massage him? Even worse, was I in an upstairs bedroom copulating with one of the guests? Or accommodating him with my mouth? I know these thoughts must be preying on her, and over time they can only fester.

At the pub there was nothing at all subtle about the way I had exhibited myself. Openly revealing my underwear in public like that was exhilarating but it had been done under Matt's clever pretence, and that had somehow taken away much of the risk. The following day, still on a high from the Grace affair, I did something far more daring in my opinion: I went out with Matt for lunch dressed in thigh length boots, a short cream skirt, and a cream latex blouse. I had never worn a latex top like this before in public during the daytime, unless you count the trade exhibition I mentioned in the 3rd December 2005 post, which doesn't really count. I was so excited by the prospect that I rang Martin to tell him what I was about to do, the first call I had made to him during that week. It's significant that I didn't even bother to mention what had occurred at the pub the previous evening.

"I'm going out in rubber, Martin. Rubber in public, during the day! And I've got thigh boots on, the zipped ones I bought last year. I just can't wait."

I hold no illusions as to how odd I looked in that outfit that lunchtime, but that is true of so many clothes and footwear that I have worn in public in the past. As I have explained before, I'm not trying to be fashionable at such moments or win points for style. All that counts is whether men get turned on when they see me. Men have very little insight into the latest fashion trends or the season's must-haves. They rarely, if ever, judge a woman on such a basis. In fact it's almost axiomatic that a woman who is by female consensus stylishly dressed will not excite men. No, men are sexually aroused by clothing at a much more primitive level and if you can develop that magic touch which combines the clothing of a whore with the elegance of a sophisticate, then you will reach deeply into the inner desires of the male psyche. Just remember: as far as men are concerned, the slut look is always in - it never goes out of fashion.




This is by some margin the longest post I've put up so far and yet I haven't described a number of the scenes that I wanted to tell you about. Maybe I'll put up a Part III some time, but for now I think we need to move on so you can be brought up to date with how things currently stand. We're already a few weeks from when I came back, and of course things are continually happening that I think you'd be interested in.

Ask Matt what he enjoyed most that week and there's no question that going out in public with me slutted up would be top of his list. But I think he'd say that the discipline scenarios we filmed wouldn't be too far behind, and I have barely touched upon these. Before he met me Matt had never spanked a woman in earnest, and he claims that it wasn't something that ever appealed to him or even crossed his mind. Now however, spanking me has become his major passion and we filmed numerous scenes with me wearing different outfits and being punished in this way. I do think there's an incredible eroticism with these images, especially when looked at from the cuckold's point of view. For a husband to have to watch his wife lying across the lap of another man and being firmly spanked is in itself profoundly humiliating, but witnessing her pleading for harsher and harsher punishment until she climaxes under the influence of a vibrator or other sex toy takes that humiliation to a whole new level.

If I have any regrets at all about the results of my efforts, it's that there aren't any pictures of Matt servicing me anally. In order to humiliate Martin we obviously filmed many scenes with me in very submissive positions, and consequently there are a great many shots of Matt screwing my vagina from behind. But these images would have been far more disturbing for my husband if he was watching his wife being sodomized by her lover, particularly if the face camera showed her loving every moment of it.

I was very, very tempted to take that leap with Matt. I don't doubt for a minute that with the proper preparation I could take his prick in my rear; nor do I doubt that I would receive exceptional pleasure from it. But other considerations have persuaded me to maintain my anal celibacy, and they have nothing to do with the ritualistic deflowering scene I described in my Feedback & Requests entry. In fact the desire to lose my virginity in such a ceremonial way has now gone - it would be too similar to the bondage scene I described in my last post, and that will never be topped. No, I have other plans for my rear, but this is a subject that requires more detailed discussion and it will have to wait for another time.

Another thing I find myself thinking when I look at these videos is how much extra variety and originality I could have introduced if another man had been present, or even two men. However I don't harbour any regret about this and in fact it's a constant source of excitement for me. In my own mind there is no doubt that at some point I will film scenes of me enjoying the attentions of more than one lover. I have no idea when this will happen, and I can reveal to you that such a prospect isn't currently on the cards. But it really is only a matter of time. Not only am I desperate to know what it feels like to be double-cocked, but also I know that nothing marks a woman as a whore more than the knowledge that she has been taken by two men simultaneously. Martin is going to reap the full reward of his handiwork.




On the Sunday afternoon Martin called me from the airport. It could have waited - he was home just an hour later - but I suspect he could no longer stand the suspense of knowing how the land lay for him.

"Hi, it's me. I'm just about to leave the airport now. Everything okay?"

"Fine," I said. That was it. Non-committal, and with barely any emotion.

"Good week?"

"You don't need to ask."

There was silence for a moment. Then: "Will you be at home when I get back?"

"I'll be here. We need to talk." Ominous.

I could hear him take a deep breath and the chatty manner evaporated. His next words sounded dispirited:

"Okay. See you in a bit."

Martin will never know, unless he reads this, how I stood for over twenty minutes at an upstairs window waiting for just a glimpse of his car through the trees at the bottom of the lane. I was fidgeting with expectation and kept bouncing up and down on my toes. As soon as I saw he was coming I went quickly downstairs, opened the front door, and went out into the porch, casually leaning against one of the wooden uprights as if I hadn't a care in the world.

My husband has since told me that in all his years he has never experienced such a flip of emotion as he did on that day when he drove up to the house and first saw me. In his mind he had been expecting the very worst, but in the space of a single second he knew that all his fears had been for nothing. Certainly he looked emotional as he opened the car door and hesitantly got out of it. He didn't approach, but just stood there drinking me in.

"Hi," he said.

I smiled at him, a knowing, playful smile. "Hi," I returned. "Miss me?"

I was standing there in a studded black leather corset, stockings, and long gloves. I was leaning on one leg, and my other leg was angled across it so that Martin could see that I had silver spurs on my knee length boots. I was bare-breasted, and two small silver chains hung down from my leather collar to my nipples. In my right hand I was holding a long training whip, and in my left I held a dog collar and lead which I was idly spinning as if I were preparing to release a lasso. But I imagine it was the latex dildo briefs that held Martin's focus most. These I had sprayed and polished twice that morning. They were glistening in the bright outdoor light.

"Yeah," he said with a huge sigh. "I missed you desperately."

I let the smile go then and looked lovingly into his eyes.

"You'd better go upstairs," I told him, a hint of a smile returning. "Like I said, we need to talk."



To contact me, email maria at this site