Posted 10 April 2009
As I am sure you are by now aware, even before I first cuckolded my husband my intention wasn't just to have extramarital sex, it was also to taunt Martin with my escapades. In fact without this secondary aspect, I'm not sure I would ever have strayed. For years Martin and I had shared fantasies where I belittled and punished him for being an inadequate lover, and intertwined with these were three general modes of humiliation we imagined he would suffer as part of his cuckold existence: watching and helping me dress for sex with another man; seeing and cleaning up evidence of my activities when I returned home again; and physically watching or listening as I was sired by a superior and better-endowed lover.
Over the past three years I have lived these fantasies to the full and it has been a truly wonderful experience for me. As I have said before, my one regret is that I wasted so much time and didn't do this a number of years earlier, but to be realistic, those years were spent building these fantasies and they allowed me to develop into the highly-sexed domina persona I am today with the attendant skills, accessories and wardrobe.
In my previous post I said that I intended to make Martin watch me being fondled by two men simultaneously in the back of his car while I masturbated them both. I also said that I was fairly sure that he wouldn't find the experience all that painful any more, and indeed would love watching me being played with in such a way. However, although I'm well aware that I'm giving my husband what he wants when I do such acts in front of him, I have always liked him to receive both psychological and physical pain as well because I find it sexually exciting. Seeing or hearing my husband being disciplined while I'm having sex with another man, or demeaning him in front of others, is a huge turn on for me and I experience far more powerful climaxes when Martin suffers at my command.
That event in Martin's car took place just as I said it would, and my spouse had to masturbate while I was engrossed with my two lovers on the back seat. No matter how many times he has done so, it will never be easy for Martin to do this in front of other men, especially guys who are physically superior to him. Sure, he finds it exciting at the time, but when it's all over he has to live with the embarrassment of what he has done. He knows deep down how the alpha males who have sex with me view him, and such shame is disturbing and uncomfortable for him.
That particular day it was doubly so, because of what I made Martin do on top of his servile hand-wank. In the actual post I said: "I won't even be aware when my lovers both ejaculate and spray cum over my skirt and boots, because I'll be consumed by the waves of ecstasy from my own climax." Well, I was wrong on a couple of counts there. For one thing I was well aware of what was happening when my companions both ejaculated, even though I was still enjoying the after waves of my own climax. Furthermore my skirt had been pulled up so high that the semen largely missed it completely, splashing over my stockings and boots instead (and the leather car seat). Almost as soon as my second friend had finished unloading, I lifted my leg and passed it between the front seats so that it was close to my husband's face.
"Clean it," I said calmly.
Martin didn't hesitate, and while taking the underside of my ankle in one hand and the sole of the boot in the other, he pressed his mouth to the leather and began licking the large splash of cum that had landed there. It was a symbolic act more than anything because far more sperm had landed on other parts of me, but I remember how satisfying it was to see him demeaning himself in this way. He's done far, far worse things than this over the past couple of years, but nevertheless try to imagine what it's like for my husband to have to do this in front of two watching men. He's a gifted, intelligent, and highly respected individual, but all that mattered for nought that day when he demonstrated once again that sexually he is only fit to lick another man's spunk from his wife's leather boot.
I'm not sure what I would do if my husband became indifferent to either my infidelity or the indignities I make him endure. Fortunately I don't see any prospect of that happening because there are so many new ways in which I can pressurise him. In any case, despite becoming less intimidated by some of the things he sees and is made to do, Martin still finds many aspects of our cuckolding lifestyle as difficult to deal with as he did that very first night when I gave myself to Matt.
One of these is watching me leave the house when I'm going out with another man. It's interesting that this undoubtedly affects him far more deeply at times than, for example, seeing me having intercourse with someone else. I suspect there may be some connection here with the night of his cuckolding, when I left to go out to dinner with Matt. As I was about to get into my car I made a big thing about Martin looking at me, cruelly rubbing in the fact that someone else would be enjoying the leather and latex I was wearing that night. Look at me dressed like this, the way you've always loved. I'm sure that psychologically left some sort of scar on Martin, yet he finds it compellingly stimulating.
I've always been well aware that my departure from home to see another man has such an effect on my husband, especially when I'm dressed for a dinner date. In the early days of visiting Matt I would always go through some little ritual as I left the house, and it wasn't long before this involved punishment. I would enjoy whipping or caning my spouse in the open air before I got into my car because this somehow emphasised his inadequacy and also left me beautifully excited for the large cock I was on my way to enjoy. In due course Martin began chauffeuring me to Matt's house and this sort of exchange lessened (at home at least), but once I started to see men other than my boyfriend it became a big thing once more.
Matt had hardly ever picked me up from home when Martin was there and it wasn't until I started being collected by my dinner date that I came to appreciate how powerful this simple scenario is for both Martin and myself. I would be waiting in the hallway for my lover, dressed to kill in a leather skirt and high heels, and I would make Martin kneel and pay homage to me as I punished him. Right up to the last moment I would have the skirt unzipped and he would be licking my pussy as I stood over him, telling him how I needed to be opened up so I could fully take the big prick that would be in me later. It was always exciting to hear the sound of the car tyres crunching the gravel on the driveway as my escort approached the house, and Martin would usually watch from the window as I sexily walked to the car, the headlamps and outside security lighting accentuating the awesome shininess of my black leather. At first we used to immediately drive away, but it wasn't long before we were lingering for a good five minutes. I don't know how much Martin could make out, but maybe he'd see me passionately kissing my companion, and at times he might see my head go down out of sight...
This still happens today, but on some occasions I also make Martin accompany me outside, and while my date watches from the car with the engine idling, I will make my husband pull down his trousers and I will whip him quite harshly, usually with a cat o' nine tails rather than a crop. Again, this is a tremendously humiliating thing for a man to have done to him in front of another male, but it leaves me incredibly hot for prick after I've done it. I've never suffered even the most miniscule pang of guilt about doing this, and I'm quite certain I never will.
Despite the variety of our shared fantasies before I started seeing other men, one area that Martin and I didn't really fully explore in our make-believe was the use of phones, where the cuckoldress will contact her husband as she is having sex and taunt him with details of what she is doing. Of course this has now become an important part of my lifestyle, and getting my husband to listen in as I'm being spanked or penetrated is a thrilling experience that I recommend all women try if they are actually seeing someone else with their partner's full knowledge. I accept that in my case I'm heavily influenced by the fact that I was able to mock Martin on the night I first had extramarital sex, but take it from me, when you call and tell your husband how fabulous the cock in you feels and how you can't wait to have the hot cum released inside you, you'll have an orgasm that will blow your mind.
It may come as a surprise to you to learn that for some time I have also been phoning my boyfriend Matt on occasions and I similarly taunt him, although never while I'm actually having sex. I'll call him from my car when I'm arriving for a session with another man and I don't hold back with my goading, particularly when I'm going to be fellating my companion. If there's one thing that's guaranteed to antagonise Matt it's the thought of me passionately sucking another guy's prick.
When I first started seeing Matt I was so desperate not to lose him that I seriously considered giving up on my ambitions of having sex with a number of men. For a while I tried to persuade myself that having a man as physically attractive and well-endowed as my new boyfriend was all I really needed and it would be foolish to risk damaging our relationship by getting involved with other guys. However the fantasies I had developed prior to cuckolding Martin were by then very deeply ingrained in me, and it wasn't long before I realised that I couldn't manage with such a restriction. I wanted to play with other pricks; I had to play with them.
As has already been explained, Matt and I managed to come to some sort of arrangement on this, one where I would be 'permitted' by my boyfriend to see other men, but where I would also have to confess my indiscretions and accordingly be punished for them. This turned out to be a very satisfying and exciting way of conducting our relationship, and it wasn't long before Matt was even looking forward to days when I would be giving one of my business clients some post-meeting extras. Matt had come to understand that this oversexed need in me to accommodate other men couldn't be separated from the rest of me, and it gave me a sort of irresistible allure. Just like my husband, he loves the fact that I am always dressed for sex and always ready for it, and he loves my warped mind as well.
Despite this, I don't think Matt would be able to handle me seeing other guys if he didn't know that I truly love him, and love him as dearly as I do my own husband. It's the knowledge that he is so special to me out of all the men I see, my number one. With other guys it's just sex, but with Matt there's a spiritual side too. In many ways he's so similar to Martin in how he now likes to display me to other men, although unlike my husband he has never developed the need to be either humiliated or dominated. But he does like the feeling of jealousy he gets when I'm out with another man, and when we go out together in public he now likes to role-play situations where he can watch me being approached and propositioned by other men. It's a highly complex relationship, one I know that others may find hard to understand, but I think I now appreciate that I will always have this effect on a man that I'm close to. He sees that I live for sex, and denying me my freedom to enjoy it in any way I like would be to cage me and ultimately take away the essence of me. You either embrace Maria the Whore or you accept that you cannot live on her terms and you walk away from her for good.
There's another aspect to my relationship with Matt that I can't discuss without mentioning Alison. The interaction between Martin, Matt, Alison and me has many subtle nuances, and increasingly I'm dividing my time so that I confine my pseudo-prostitute activities to weekdays and keep my weekends for these three people that I am closest to. It's bringing more order to my life and giving Matt in particular the security of knowing that he will be able to see plenty of me on Fridays and Saturdays, and even on Sundays too.
Alison's involvement gives me a very powerful hold over Matt, one that he accepts he would find it almost impossible to break. The things we allow him to do to us and the acts that we perform in front of him explore the depths of his wildest longings. To have two highly attractive women clad in leather and rubber as his own private sex toys and to be able to use and abuse them as he sees fit... well, he knows he's living a dream every time we knock on his door, and to ever have that taken away from him would be almost unthinkable.
Alison's participation also gives me delicious leverage over my husband too. Two men and two women, but one guy gets to fuck and discipline both girls while the other simply gets punished for not being good enough to excite either of them. Martin often watches and assists as Alison and I dress together when we're seeing Matt for the evening, and it's almost as if he doesn't exist as we talk matter-of-factly between ourselves about what we might do later and what accessories we should take with us. My husband will help pack those accessories, and I frequently wonder what must be going through his mind as he puts each item into the holdall because in many cases he has never been permitted to see what Matt sees.
As well as phoning my husband during sex, I soon also began sending pictures of my activities via phone or email, and this became a very common way for me to add to the excitement of seeing another man. Mostly these would be video captures that I'd send after the session had ended, but I or my partner would also take shots with my camera phone and forward these while I was actually having sex. This is something that I couldn't easily have done a decade ago, and although I find some of the latest technology has restricted my freedom with my public outings, it has certainly opened up some amazing opportunities to enhance my enjoyment of my cuckolding lifestyle. For a husband to be at work and to receive a picture of his wife's black leather skirt stretched across her thighs with large splashes of wet cum on it... that's certainly something that Martin and I never dreamed of happening when we used to fantasise in bed all those years ago.
I still send camera phone images today, but I don't tend to send many photos via email any more. Instead I've found it's far better for me to simply update my offline diary (which uses the same templates as my online one and looks virtually identical) and Martin can look at the results when he arrives home. You have to appreciate that from Martin's point of view the anticipation of reading my offline diary updates is tremendously stimulating for him, even though the contents often cause him some anguish. I don't tend to read the diary a great deal myself these days because I'm too busy doing other things (including authoring the latest entry), but my husband is always looking at it, and when I'm out elsewhere in the evening with a big, hard prick inside me, one of the thoughts that always excites me is that of Martin sitting in front of the computer at home playing with himself as he reads my past entries again and again. Can you see the poetry in all this? It's something many of you still can't understand. I need a sexually submissive husband just as he needs an insatiable whore wife.
It's always been a real turn on deciding what images to add to the offline diary, and there's also the advantage that I can embed short video clips too. This has been made so easy these days with the latest compression standards and authoring tools for the Flash video player, and consequently my offline diary now contains literally hundreds of short video sequences. The majority of these are only 30-60 seconds or so long, and although I like to keep the content highly varied, there are definitely some recurrent themes. For example, many of the shots are of me bringing myself to climax in a solo session, and I'll do this in some highly unusual ways. Similarly there are frequent sequences of me drinking cum in particularly debauched circumstances. You saw the plastic funnel I used in the Lights... Camera... Action II post, and I now have a number of accessories that are specifically designed to either guide sperm into my mouth or to keep my mouth forcibly wide open as cum is sprayed into it. I have developed a bit of a thing about filming these sorts of ejaculations, with Maria the bondaged wife helplessly having to consume semen whether she likes it or not.
I'd love to film scenarios like this with half a dozen guys or even more filling me up, but I'm realistic enough to know that this is never going to happen. Although I've shot such scenes with the same three men that have simultaneously taken me in front of Martin, I've not been able to coax others to join in such group activities and I think I've finally accepted that unless men know each other very well, they're not willing to participate in group sex sessions. Significantly this only applies to having other alpha males present. Most of the well-endowed men that I see are quite happy to have sex with me in front of a submissive male (my boyfriend Matt is an exception), and they unquestionably perform better if that submissive is punished while I'm being penetrated, or if they know that the sub is going to be humiliated by me after I've taken my lover's ejaculation. Such males genuinely get off on rubbing the noses of physically inferior men in their sexual inadequacy, so much so that I have had no difficulty whatsoever in persuading my lovers to give a sub a good thrashing with a leather belt while I watch and pleasure myself. Martin has even been belt-whipped by two men at the same time, with Alison and I sitting next to each other urging them on as we fuck ourselves with the same long, flexible, double-headed rubber dildo.
Martin isn't the only person who gets to see my offline diary updates, and Matt in particular is highly stimulated by the content, so much so that I deliberately design some of my activities so that they will specifically provoke him and not necessarily my husband. This permanent record I'm creating which documents my adventures is now a vital component in heightening the eroticism of the sex that I enjoy. The diary entries aren't themed or crafted in the way that my online ones are, but the fact that I know others will be reading them encourages me to be continually innovative and imaginative. However, don't read this as meaning that I'm becoming ever more extreme in my actions. I think I had the boundaries of my desires pretty much mapped out before I even cuckolded my husband, and despite all that I have done I don't think I have stepped far beyond those limits. Granted, my ambitions increased because I found it far easier to live my dreams than I had ever anticipated, but the extent of those dreams has not widened to any great degree.
One of those dreams was to be groped and fondled by a number of men simultaneously. I can't say for sure what was at the root of this desire developing in me - whether it was due to my husband's coaxing, or because of the reaction I was seeing from men when I was dressed sexily, or even if it was down to that single instance where a business client once slipped his hand beneath the dining table and began massaging between my legs - but it's hard for me to convey to you the incredible appeal such a scenario has to me nowadays. I'm sure for most women the exploitative, degrading nature of being treated in such a way verges on the abhorrent, but for me that's the greatest attraction. The idea of being in the company of men who don't consider it in any way inappropriate to simply put a hand up my skirt and have a good feel of my panties... yeah, well, that really does it for me in ways I can't put into words.
What is so satisfying for me these days is that every six weeks or so I get to live out my groping fantasies when I attend the special parties that I mentioned in the ‘Publish And Be Damned’ post:
You may recall my mention of the fact that Gerald has been instrumental in opening doors for me, and one of these involves me acting as hostess at some special evening functions in London. It would be highly unwise for me to detail these events, but that really applies to any discussion that may identify any of the individuals present rather than an account of proceedings. I don't think I'm going to be able to resist talking about what I've been up to, although it may all seem rather mild to you because it doesn't involve penetrative sex (actually, there has been penetration of sorts, but you know what I mean).
I think it's fair to say that a number of the guests at these functions (almost all of whom are older than yours truly) have been totally captivated by me. I am actually introduced as 'Maria' to the gentleman there, and that's all they really get to know about me apart from the fact that I'm a married woman who needs a lot more than her husband can provide; who enjoys exhibiting herself in fetish clothing; and who not only likes to be looked at by men but also intimately touched by them too.
It all started when Gerald read my diary and mentally noted that I regularly fantasised about being fondled by my business clients and other men. I had made it clear that the idea of a client putting his hands up my skirt and feeling my suspenders and underwear before fingering me to orgasm was a huge turn on for me, and in my wilder dreams there would be several men doing this at the same time.
Gerald was already playing with me in this way as I masturbated him, but after reading the diary, fondling me became a major passion of his, and not just in private. If he knew that no one could see what he was doing, he was quite prepared to rub my backside in public or massage a hand between my thighs if I was wearing a short skirt when we were sitting together. Far from being either irritated or embarrassed by this, I loved every moment of it and I gave him carte blanche to do it whenever he wanted. However I kept it as a one-way accommodation - I never massaged him in return. My enjoyment of this sort of activity has never lessened, and to this day I still like Gerald to caress me in public, particularly when I'm wearing a leather skirt. We can be in a lift taking us to an underground car park and my friend will unzip my skirt halfway and stand there calmly rubbing his hand over the rear of my shiny panties or pulling my garter straps. He also likes me to wear a jacket with no blouse so he can undo a single button and slide his hand inside the garment to feel my corset or bra.
Once we're back at his home I'll sit on his knee and he'll give me another pleasuring with his hands as we kiss and talk. He makes this last a long time, but he knows exactly how I like to be fondled in this way, and in due course he'll have me squealing with delight as he massages me to climax. Following that I'll usually kneel before him and suck him, and now it's my turn to keep him on the edge for a considerable time without bringing him to release. Finally we'll go to a particular room in his house where he has some expensive equipment that he likes to watch me use as he masturbates, but I'll say no more about this for now.
It was as I was sitting on Gerald's knee one afternoon after we'd lunched together that he first brought up his idea of how I could combine my exhibitionism with some of my kinky groping fantasies, but in a very safe environment with no expectation that anything more would be required of me. He admitted that he wasn't making the suggestion purely for my own benefit; the thought of what he had in mind had been tormenting him for several nights as he lay alone in bed.
I found the whole thing highly exciting just from his description alone. Gerald is old school, as are his friends, and this would be very much an informal gentlemen's evening with the majority of the time taken up in playing bridge or poker for money. I would be present purely to provide some eye candy for his guests. I would dress in a tight leather skirt with my usual exotic underwear and high heels, and I'd act as a sort of hostess for the evening, serving drinks and light snacks when required, and at other times putting myself provocatively on display as I sat and watched the men play. The guests would be made fully aware of my oversexed tendencies and unusual desires, Gerald said. I would be his trophy sex toy, and there would be an understanding that this was a toy which not only liked to be looked at but which liked to be played with as well.
It was an absolutely sensational evening for me when I played my hostess role at his home that very first time, and I can assure you that there was no sexual activity - not even the fondling that Gerald had in mind. It would best be described as an erotic experience, and I think it made all the difference that my audience was comprised of older, chivalrous men. Had I been some cheap, ill-educated, foul-mouthed slut then I think they would have been totally repulsed by the whole image of Maria, but the fact that I was clearly in the same league as the women they socialised with every day gave me tremendous appeal. I was their every fantasy - a highly attractive, intelligent, privately educated, well-spoken sex doll. I conversed with them on easy terms, and that was no surprise because I was one of them - I had even attended the same college at university as one of Gerald's friends (years after he did), although I never revealed that to him.
If you're wondering why I found the whole event so enjoyable even though nothing serious happened, just remember that I'm an exhibitionist, a woman who gets a sexual kick merely from putting herself on display and being ogled (why do you think this diary even exists?). At Gerald's suggestion - made openly in front of his friends - I performed my hostess duties for the last hour-and-a-half at his little soiree with my skirt removed. That's it, nothing more, just that. I walked around the room topping up drinks, collecting empty glasses, handing out nibbles and serving coffee with my seamed black stockings, my leather suspender belt and my shiny zipped rubber panties on full display. I never showed any embarrassment about it, I never remarked upon it, and you would never have known from my conversation that I was even aware of it. Equally, Gerald's friends made little comment. It was an understanding; they knew I was getting off on what I was doing, and to make a big deal out of it would have been to undermine the whole sexiness of what was taking place.
I'm so glad that things didn't go any further that night. It created an aura of intrigue about me amongst Gerald's friends, and when he arranged a similar evening some six weeks later all eight men from his initial guest list attended, together with three extra friends, two of whom had significantly contacted Gerald to ask if they could be present. I had no particular expectations for this second function, but even so I wore my side-laced leather pencil skirt that night. Martin had polished it two nights in a row and I couldn't have had a better shine on it, nor could I have worn it any tighter than I did.
Gerald's friends were simply awestruck by how I looked that night, and even within the first half hour I could see that the nature of the evening had subtly changed. The men who had been present at the previous event were far more relaxed with me - not disrespectful, but I think they were enjoying the fact that that they knew me and that I could remember their names. It was noticeable that they were also showing off in front of the guys who hadn't been there the previous time. See, I know Maria. We're on first name terms. I've seen her walking around in her underwear, and you haven't.
That night was unbelievably erotic, but once again there was no explicit sex involved. I was standing or sitting in front of them in my tight skirt, and I knew my suspenders were contoured beautifully down the front of my legs and fully in view through the lacing at the sides. I was also wearing a lacy see-through top, and my black rubber bra was totally visible through the material. I could see guests' eyes dancing as they tried to appear indifferent to my presence, and I absolutely love getting that sort of response from men. For years I had been tempting clients in this way at business meetings, but here I was actually dressed in the full fuck-me gear, and I'm not using author's license when I say that I could feel the wetness in my panties increasing as the evening progressed.
This time I didn't get to walk around in my underwear, but the compensation I received more than made up for it. At about eleven o'clock on a Saturday night early last year, I was spanked to climax in my tight leather pencil skirt by Gerald in front of an audience of completely mesmerised men, and that experience will live in my memories forever. I love to be spanked while a vibrator or clitoral stimulator pleasures me and I've made no secret of it, but to have it done with a group of men watching on is another story. I will be eternally grateful to Gerald for giving me that moment, and many more like it.
Consider what a stunning moment that was for me. By this time I was enjoying extramarital sex with several men. I had masturbated and fellated some of my business clients, and three had actually had full intercourse with me. I had filmed scenes where I was being penetrated by three pricks at the same time while my husband was being strapon-fucked by my friend Alison as she made him kiss and lick my leather boots. I had also filmed scenes where Alison and I dominated two submissives in the same session, whipping them as they humiliatingly sucked each other in front of us before we strapped their faces to our pussies and made them lick us to climax as we beat their miserable little cocks with leather belts. But this... this somehow went beyond all of those things because of the outrageous promiscuity of a woman who wants a group of men she barely knows to witness her orgasming as she is being disciplined.
Things have progressed considerably since that second evening, although the number of men who attend isn't dramatically greater. There's a core of roughly a dozen of Gerald's friends who regularly turn up, and a few of these will bring their own guest with them. This is something that they've been encouraged to do because I get a big kick out of displaying myself to men who have never seen me before. Unlike the regular attendees, most first-time visitors are somewhat embarrassed and unsure when they first meet me, even though they will usually have been made aware of the sorts of activities that will be taking place. It's seeing their reaction when they actually get to witness me being played with that is so exhilarating, and no amount of forewarning can overcome the shock factor of seeing the sort of spanking scene I spoke of above.
There has been surprisingly little awkwardness at these events considering what takes place, but I'd like to think this is down to the very deft way everything has been handled. My outfits have always been very upfront and I've quite brazenly put myself on display, but the move from plain voyeurism and exhibitionism to something more hands-on has been a gradual one, and Gerald simply stopped inviting any individual who we sensed was not comfortable with the direction things were going. As a result the attendees are now fully aware of what's expected of them and how I like to be treated, and there's none of the initial uncertainty of the early days.
Probably the primary reason for this success was the acceptance from both Gerald and me right from the start that we couldn't take things as far as I had dreamed in my original fantasies. There simply was no way that the men coming to these functions would be prepared to do things like putting their hands up my skirt and fingering my vagina or anus. Certainly one or two might, but not all of them as a group, and it's the high numbers I really wanted. For much the same reason I couldn't be too explicit in front of them all, which meant that exposing my bare pussy was a no-no as well. The evening had to appear relatively harmless to the men concerned, something that allowed them to treat it all as akin to a visit to a lap dancing club. Who cares if someone finds out later? A sexy woman parades herself in front of Gerald's friends and does one or two kinky things. What's the harm? It's not like visiting a prostitute or attending an orgy. It's just a big prick tease.
This is the level at which the whole affair was pitched, and to this day some of the men who attend are voyeurs only. I have absolutely no problem with that providing they're enthusiastic voyeurs who I know are getting off on what they're seeing. Certainly there is a lot more contact now, but I should stress that the group games take place towards the end of the evening, and by any normal standards they're pretty tame. Most of the time I am simply there to be looked at. Things are held very much at the visual and teasing level, with a great deal left to the imagination. For example, these days I will usually go upstairs at some point, remove my skirt, and put on my dildo harness before returning to the guests again to circulate amongst them double-cocked for a while, with the tight black strapping on open display. You've seen pictures of this harness before with the plugs actually inserted, and you can see that visually it's not overly explicit. It's the knowing what those straps are holding that's the turn on, and Gerald's friends have never actually seen those two rubber cocks I've got inside me, even though most of them have by now pressed their fingers against my crotch and arse to massage the dildos back and forth.
Similarly with my clitoral stimulator. When I was spanked at that second party I was already wearing my stimulator under my pencil skirt, and all Gerald had to do was to activate the vibrator on it. The watching men heard the steady buzzing, but they didn't actually get to see what was producing it. The men find this extremely sexy, but at the same time they don't suffer the guilt and misgivings they would otherwise experience if I fully exposed myself to them. If you're a married man maybe you should consider for a moment how you would react if you went to such a function and saw me doing these things. Would you quickly excuse yourself and rush home to your wife in fear of betraying her, or like almost everyone who has attended these evenings in the past, would you not be able to resist staying on to see what this shamelessly oversexed but disarmingly confident woman will do next? And when she later politely asks you to adjust her suspenders, or assist her in putting her opera gloves on, or even tighten the straps on her leather harness, would you flatly decline or would you simply do as she requests?
Now that I've hopefully made it clear that these get-togethers are nothing like the gangbanging parties that you may have had in mind when I first brought up the subject, let me just briefly outline where things have gone beyond the visual stage. To begin with, Gerald's regular guests know I enjoy being touched, and so when I sit down next to a guy and start chatting to him I don't even blink if he begins to stroke my knee or absently runs his fingers along the length of one of my garter straps. The men are also well aware that I love having my backside caressed, and so when I'm standing in the kitchen pouring drinks or preparing canapés it's very common for someone to come up beside me and start massaging my buttocks. Importantly though there's complete awareness that what I really want is more than one guy doing this at the same time, so when I'm sitting or standing between two men it's not unusual for them to both start stroking and lightly fondling my leather or latex as we talk. Let me reiterate though: not everyone wants to touch like this.
As the evening progresses and alcohol loosens inhibitions, these exchanges become more frequent, and there's not only touching but kissing as well. The fact that some of the guests are a bit stilted and hamfisted at this doesn't bother in me the least, and I'll still close my eyes and sexily tongue them despite their awkwardness. I've never given any indication that I prefer any one man over another; there is no favoritism shown on my part (although I do reward enthusiasm), and I regard this as a vital factor in keeping every man wanting to come back for more.
It certainly seems to have worked. There have been moments in the kitchen at the most recent parties where I have had four guests simultaneously running their hands over me as I exchange kisses with them in turn, and by this time the men aren't afraid to caress my breasts or work their hands up my legs to my suspenders and panties. I also like them to kiss my clothing too, particularly my long gloves. It's an incredibly erotic experience, and the men can all see how much I'm enjoying it even though I'm outwardly fairly calm - sensuous in my reaction yes, but still calm. I hope you can at least picture in your mind's eye what it looks like when so many hands are roving over me, but what you'll never be able to truly appreciate is how amazing it feels when I have maybe five or six hands up my skirt at the same time - playfully tugging my suspenders, massaging between my legs, stroking the rear of my glossy panties, and even lightly pressing the stimulator that's tightly strapped to my super-excited pussy.
Despite the ever-present temptation, one thing I never do under such circumstances is to massage any of the men in front of each other. It's purely a one-way accommodation, and again this is something that Gerald and I agreed was necessary to avoid things getting out of hand. Of course I'd love to rub these guys because I can often feel their hardness against me, and it would be even better if they all got their cocks out and we had a mass wanking session. I seriously think I could masturbate five or six men at the same time using my hands and suspenders (and even more if I have my thigh boots on), but I just know it wouldn't work. However I do offer some compensation for this, although I'm afraid I'm not going into details. The word 'Masturbatrix' has basically become my signature at these parties now, and let's just say that men who find themselves overcome by the excitement of the evening are discreetly relieved of any tension by me in private, and in a manner of their own choosing. It's an unwritten rule that these moments are never to be discussed with others, and I'm not dwelling any further on the subject here.
One major change that's been made since these parties started is that I will now go upstairs about two thirds of the way through the evening and put on a different outfit. The intent of my initial clothing is to create a sort of sexy hostess image, with either a leather skirt/revealing top combination, or a tight leather dress. The idea is to entice men by giving glimpses or hints of my exotic underwear and thus encourage them to want to explore further with their hands. As the guests became more comfortable with seeing me in a state of relative undress, I correctly guessed that it would add anticipation and excitement if I changed into something even more upfront later on, and this has been a tremendous success. In particular Gerald's friends seem to have fallen in love with a latex spanking skirt that I first wore in October last year, and it's not difficult to understand why. Seeing me walking around in this ultra-tight skirt is in itself a huge turn on for the men, but there's the additional bonus that the focus on my backside stirs a desire in them to want to discipline me.
Ever since Gerald spanked me at that second function, I have been similarly punished at every subsequent event, and it's not just the host who does it now. At the end of the evening several guests will take their turn to give Maria a few smacks on the backside. I don't let them do this too harshly and it's very much a symbolic exercise to turn on the men concerned, but on the other hand it's not so light that I don't feel any pain. What's even more exciting though is that the winner of the poker game now gets to punish me with a studded leather paddle, and this is no token slapping but the real deal. I like to be locked into a leg-spreader and also gagged when this is done to me, and while I'm being struck I like to have another man reach beneath me and massage my buzzing clit stimulator against my pussy. I know for many of the men who come to these gatherings this is the highlight of the night - watching me climax as I'm comprehensively paddled in front of them. Needless to say the orgasm I enjoy from this sort of attention is quite astonishing, and my one regret is that I'm unable to video these finale sessions.
Fabulous as this sort of attention is for me, there's something that I find even more sexually thrilling, and it's not a scenario that I had fantasised about years ago. At one of the parties last year I decided to wear a rubber halter neck top with my side-laced leather pencil skirt, and I also had a leather strap bra holding my breasts as well. That outfit proved very popular just from the look alone, but halfway through the evening it became apparent just how horny the whole get-up was. I was talking to three of the men in the kitchen when one of them, a regular attendee named William, stopped in mid-sentence and completely cracked.
"Oh God, I can't handle this any more. Bloody hell Maria, you look absolutely devastating in that outfit. I'm not kidding you, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen in the whole of my life. I can't believe how fantastic your tits look."
William had certainly drunk a fair amount, but it's not unusual for the men to speak to me like this. If I felt it was disrespectful I'd probably be bothered about it, but they just can't help saying what they're thinking, and making men lose control in this way is of course something that I regard as a major achievement. All the same, I was slightly caught off guard by this and there was quite a pause as I thought of an adequate response. When it came I'm fairly sure it wasn't what anyone was expecting, and I'm still surprised myself at what I said. It certainly wasn't alcohol that prompted it because I'm very restrained with what I drink at these events, and I can therefore only put it down to sheer lust.
"Do you want me to undo my top so you can see how my strap bra is holding them?"
"You heard, William. Do you want to see my strap bra?"
I stood there looking at him intently, although he didn't hold my gaze. His eyes were repeatedly flicking from my face down to my chest and back again, but after a few seconds they ended up fixated solely on my breasts.
"Yes, I do," he said determinedly. "You bet I do."
This had rapidly turned into one of those situations I live for, and I could feel the awesome self-control and heightened awareness come over me. It must be some sort of adrenalin rush, because it seems like I can think at the speed of light and I've got forever to make decisions.
"You'll have to touch as well as look," I said playfully.
"Okay." No hesitation.
"...and you'll have to kiss too. Right here. Right now."
"Okay..." He didn't reply as fast this time, but I think his hesitancy was more down to surprise than anything else.
At this point I started to reach my hands up to the back of my neck to undo the press studs of my top, but about halfway I paused.
"...and I want two of you doing it, not just you. One's not enough."
That stopped him in his tracks, and for a moment I thought I'd overplayed my hand, but I really needn't have worried. He thought for a moment and turned to his nearest companion, Clive. "Well?" he queried.
"Heck yes, I'm game," Clive said. "Definitely."
Wow, what a moment that was when I unclipped my top and let it fall down, and I'm getting the shivers now from just reliving it in my head. I stood there totally unembarrassed as the three men gazed at my strapped up tits, and I didn't have to look down to know that my nipples were hugely engorged with desire. Oh, and when the two of them reached forward and touched me... what an experience. Clive simply stroked his hand over the top of the breast before cupping it and seemingly feeling the weight, but William straightaway held the breast in his left hand and started kneading and squeezing the nipple with his right.
"Clive, do what William's doing," I prompted, and there was that familiar hint of command in my voice when I said it. Maria was taking control.
"You couldn't just pour me a glass of red wine could you Jonathan?" I said to the third man who was standing there transfixed. He looked as though his eyes were going to pop out of his head.
It was William who touched his lips to my breast first, and he started landing small kisses as he continued to fondle me with his hands. I watched on unemotionally and I smiled as I saw his tongue emerge from his mouth as he began to lick the skin.
"Come on, suck it," I said calmly. "You know that's what you really want to do."
That was all the coaxing he needed, and within two seconds my nipple was inside his mouth. It felt fabulous, and I can only ascribe the almost unprecedented sensitivity of my nipples to the sexual kick I was getting from the exhibitionist scenario. As soon as I felt how gorgeous it was I knew I wanted the same from Clive.
I squeezed my left nipple between my thumb and middle finger, put my other hand behind Clive's head, and pulled it down to the swollen teat.
"And you Clive, there's a good boy, eat this."
Even though my breasts had been simultaneously sucked by two men many times before, there was nothing that could begin to compare with that moment. Jonathan was the only witness to the scene and no one else came into the kitchen when it took place, but it was the mere thought that anyone could have walked in and seen me openly being pleasured in this way that made it so special.
Later that night when the guests had all departed I told Gerald about it all and even though I expressed regret that I had broken our rules about being explicit, I couldn't help but show my enthusiasm for what had happened.
"My God, I wish I'd seen that," he said. "I can understand why you got off on it so much. It's you - it's just so perfectly you. You're going to have to do it again."
"I don't think that's really wise, do you?" I said doubtfully.
"Maybe not, but I know what it does for you, Maria. There's no question that you're going to have to do it again."
And that's what has happened at every party since that night. I confine these moments to the kitchen, and it's now understood by the men that if they venture into that room in the latter half of the evening then it's quite possible that they will encounter the sight of me standing there with one, two, or even three men openly fondling or mouthing my bare breasts. The fact that the traffic into the kitchen has markedly increased since I made the decision to carry on doing this tells me all I need to know about whether it was an appropriate move, and there are now very few of Gerald's friends who haven't at least rubbed their hands over my exposed breasts at some point. The bigger surprise though is that so many of them have overcome their embarrassment and have been quite willing to actually suck and kiss my breasts in front of the others. I can only think it's safety in numbers - once you've seen other men do it, it's not such a great step to take when you come to do it yourself.
The capture on the right gives you good idea of what I look like when I’m standing in the kitchen later in the evening. Here I’m wearing a quarter cup bra, leaving my breasts totally exposed for any of Gerald’s guests who choose to fondle them or bend down to mouth them. You can also see the buckles of my spanking skirt, and while a couple of men are playing with my boobs, quite often another guy will be standing to the side of me and caressing my buttocks.
It's very difficult for me to explain why this is so appealing to me, and for you to understand it properly you have to appreciate how I like to play out a scenario like this. My attitude is very similar to the one I described in the Slut Is Born post when I was with Simon - it's the aloof power and control aspect I enjoy so much, even though men are apparently taking such outrageous liberties with me. I can actually be conversing with someone else across the room as I calmly reach my hands behind my neck and unclip the press-studs of my top and let it fall down, and my focus on the person I'm talking to won't falter as the hands start cupping my breasts and massaging them. Even when my two suitors start licking and sucking my nipples I won't seemingly register the fact, other than to maybe unconsciously stroke their hair as though they're a couple of pets that I own.
This impassive demeanour of mine is enormously attractive to Gerald's friends, even though they are well aware that I can't get enough of what is being done to me. If I were to pant away with delirious lust I just know the attendees would very soon find it a total turn-off. So instead I exude an almost casual indifference to having my breasts played with, and anyone walking into the kitchen and encountering this scene finds it utterly hypnotic. There I am, standing with my exposed breasts all trussed up in a leather strap bra or shelf bra, and as two men who could well be in their mid-fifties are suckling away on them, I'm coolly sipping from a wine glass and talking to other men as though what's happening is the most ordinary thing in the world. It's magical, just magical, and the fact that I get off on this so powerfully shows why I have this need to exhibit myself to others. The appeal would be a hundred times less if we were unseen in a private room, but when others are wandering in and witnessing what's happening, the kick I get from playing ice-cool Maria is beyond words.
This is a good taster of what goes on at these parties, and after roughly five hours of being ogled, fondled, and kissed, I'm totally drained but also exhilarated. I once said that cuckolding a man was the pinnacle of sex, the ultimate experience. That's certainly true of that night when Matt ejaculated into me with Martin witnessing my cries of passion as he lay shackled in his bedroom across the hallway at home. However, as a total erotic experience held over several hours, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to top these evenings at Gerald's large London home. It's a form of sex that I have never really seen discussed before, although I can't believe I'm the only wife who gets a kick out of prostituting herself to a large number of men at the same time. I don't believe that it would be any more enjoyable if the guests actually had full sex with me throughout the evening because in many ways the relatively restrained nature of what goes on is all part of the appeal, and I know for sure that the attendance numbers would drop dramatically if I started playing highly explicit games.
In the Publish And Be Damned post there's a disguised photo of me that was taken by Gerald at one of these events and the captionless image higher up this page is from the same evening (and yes, the man with his hand up my skirt is the same guest who had only been introduced to me two hours earlier). However it's very rare for such pictures to be taken. For my own protection as well as for the men who attend, no evidence exists of what takes place and there is a mutual understanding that what we have got here is a very special arrangement that no one ever wants to undermine - it's simply too enjoyable for everyone concerned. It's not entirely the sort of scenario that I always used to dream of participating in because I don't get to be properly fingered by the men, but nevertheless I consider myself exceptionally fortunate to be able to actually live these fantasies for real. Of course, considering the age of the majority of the men involved you might think that being given the opportunity to regularly touch up a leather and rubber clad slut wife like me makes them the lucky ones, but that's not how I see it. If your wife wanted to do this tomorrow, how on earth would you make it happen? Seriously, how would you approach it? I know Martin could never have given this gift to me, but Gerald has done so, and kneeling before him later when all the guests have left, sucking him to ejaculation and swallowing all of his cum as he holds my head in his hands and empties his balls into my warm mouth...that will never be payment enough in return.
I'm sure you can appreciate just what effect it has on Martin when he knows that I am indulging in this sort of activity, the actions of a truly sex-obsessed whore wife. But even this isn't enough for me, and ever since the early days of going to these parties I have used my offline diary to add to my own stimulation and to torment my husband (and Matt as well). These functions always take place on a Saturday, and I like to spend most of the afternoon preparing for the night's events. I could easily change at Gerald's of course, but driving to London in my restrictively tight outfit is a real turn on for me. If you recall, Martin is usually out playing or watching sport during the day on Saturdays and consequently he isn't there to see me dressing for the occasion. When he finally arrives home I have already left for London, but there's always a diary update waiting for him and it's more than some narrative describing how excited I am and how many men I'm hoping will be attending Gerald's get-together. There will also be a short video clip or two, and the kicker is that I will have a male friend round to hold the camera and record my preparation before I depart.
Of course in return for this assistance I like to give my cameraman a suitable reward, and taunting my husband as this is filmed all adds to the excitement of the day for me. Once I'm dressed as Gerald's friends will see me later, I will be vaginally or anally fucked by my friend, sometimes while he's still holding the camera. After all, since I won't be having a real cock inside me at Gerald's party it's only fair that I have one up me before I go, wouldn't you agree?
The shots below were taken on the day of Gerald's most recent get-together, and I've put on the all-latex outfit I wore later in the evening to let you see what it looks like. I'm wearing one of my spanking skirts again, and the idea is to encourage guests to want to discipline me. I'm also wearing open-crotch latex briefs, and these are perfect for teasing everyone, including me - the men dream of bending me over a table and fucking me, and I dream of sitting on their hard cocks.
You really need to hear the soundtrack to fully appreciate the two pictures where I'm being pleasured by my lover before I leave for the party. My cameraman friend is doing something to me that Martin never once experienced, and it's what I'm saying for my husband's benefit while I'm being serviced that gives it such power. In the right hand shot I'm passionately urging my lover on: "That's it! Spunk in me! Spunk in me!! Yes, yes, YES!!!"
If there's a negative to these get-togethers it's that they can make the rest of my lifestyle seem rather parochial. I've done some remarkably imaginative and kinky things behind closed doors at home, but at the end of the day it's the same bedroom or living room backdrop each time and the cast of actors is drawn from the same small pool. Despite the understated nature of the activities, these visits to London seem a world apart to me, a completely different level of sexual adventure, and when I return home again my everyday games seem somewhat provincial in comparison. I really do think that if I could relive my twenties with the mindset and resources I have today I would become a professional dominatrix or prostitute, and I would set my ambitions very high. I'd want to hold weekly parties like the ones that Gerald arranges, but they'd be far more expansive and elaborate. Whipping parties, bukkake nights, sex auctions, bondaged bimbo banging, nympho schoolgirl spankings, fucking machine fiestas - you name it, I'd host it, and every one would be a high class affair with only the best girls, the best costumes, the best equipment and the best venues. You've seen how I bring fantasy to life on a small scale, so imagine what I'd do with a much larger canvas to paint upon.
Whichever way you look at it, you simply can't beat numbers. It doesn't matter how good-looking or well-endowed my boyfriend is, he can't provide the excitement that the group of men who ogle and play with me at these parties do. No single man can. Maybe I'm just a lone anomaly who gets off on something like this, but I can't really believe that. There's got to be other women out there who would be just as enthralled and overcome as I am when numerous hands rove over my body and when I have a captive audience witnessing me climax in bondage as I'm being disciplined. The difference is that for all but a few of those women it will always remain as an unfulfilled desire. That's fair enough considering the potential downside of what I do, but what they will never know is what it actually feels like. You can fantasise the scenes in your head, but you can't replicate the unique sensation of so many hands and mouths exploring your body at the same time. Trust me, it's as close to heaven as you can get.
Pure exhibitionist slut sex - it's what I always wanted, I'm never going to tire of it, and I'm counting down the days until I get it again.
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