My special thanks to Erik Thread for editing my story and making it a better read

I am sitting at the kitchen table crying as I hold the set of papers that were delivered to me an hour earlier. My tears that are running down on my face create a small puddle on the table in front of me. I feel like screaming: "What a fool I've been!"

The papers were divorce papers. The settlement offered did not reflect our financial status — we were multi millionaires due to the great computer business my husband owned and ran — but I had to admit that it was generous under the circumstances. He offered my car, $500,000 and a monthly alimony of $10,000. It was really an amount I used to spend in about ten days, but again, under the circumstances it was generous. He also demanded full custody of Tim, our youngest son. There was a small note attached, in my husband's handwriting: "If you try to contest this settlement I'll change the divorce grounds to adultery and use all the evidence I have, and I told you yesterday that I have lots of it. AND I'll expose your boy-toy club." There was no signature, no words of affection, just this warning.

I knew I won't contest the divorce. Well, I knew that I'd caused it by my behavior in the last three years. He said he'd only known about the last year and had suspected me for two previous months. I still couldn't understand why he'd kept me around as his wife for so long. During my sleepless night after our last conversation, I remembered a famous clich? — you never know what you have until you lose it. God, I loved him so much! Why have I done it? How could I let it deteriorate to such a level?

I'm Brenda Peters, 42 years old, wife and mother of two boys. My husband is, or should I say was, Harry, 44, starter, owner, president and CEO of CompuSultants, Inc. We have two sons — Gary, 19, in his first year of college. Two weeks before going to college in our town he suddenly changed his mind and decided to go to a college across the country. The second son is Tim, 17, who still has a year of high school to finish before college.

My life with Harry had been a good one. We loved each other, were comfortable with our love. Although Harry had to travel quite a lot on business, he was usually away for just one night or two, and very seldom for longer periods. When he wasn't traveling he was usually home early enough for dinner and for spending time with the boys, and later with me.

Our sex was good and I enjoyed it a lot. We still had sex two or three times a week. Harry had never just fucked me — he used to make love to me slowly and gently, always giving me at least two orgasms before entering me, and then two more while he slowly fucked me. He loved eating my pussy just as I loved sucking him off. We sometimes did some role playing but never had other partners, although two couples of our close friends disclosed to us that they were swingers and tried drawing us into their lifestyle. We just declined their offer politely, and we are still friends.

The first time I cheated on my husband I was drunk. Well, I was at a party at a time when Harry was out of town, and a guy kept my glass full all the time. I kept drinking until I suddenly found myself in a hotel room with the guy pumping his cock into me. For some reason I found myself enjoying the fuck and got into it, up to fully cooperating with him. After I woke up from my drunken stupor we changed positions twice for two more fucks and I just loved it. It wasn't making love — it was plain and straight fucking. After the first time I sucked him until he was hard and we went at it again. Then I sucked him up again, got on top and slowly rode him. I know that on that unforgettable night I had five orgasms.

The next morning feelings of guilt swept me over, but I just decided that what Harry didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Late in the afternoon the guy called me, and straight out said that he wanted to have me again, this time sober, before he had to leave and go back to his wife and kids. Remembering the night before, my pussy became thoroughly wet. My head didn't function well so my pussy made the decision and I agreed to meet him at his hotel. He gave me his room number. I told the boys I needed to run some errands and forty-five minutes later I was in the guy's room, on my back and with my legs spread wide, while he was licking me to a shattering orgasm. I stayed with him for three hours, with him fucking me time after time after time. Then he said he had to catch his flight home and I left, still wanting more.

When Harry arrived home I was all over him and fucked him to exhaustion. I must have been quite loud because in the morning the boys were grinning and gave me a few smirks.

I still had some guilt feelings, but I also felt that I gave Harry the best sex in years and therefore I'd paid in full for my small indiscretion. And deep inside I felt some kind of new excitement. Much later I realized that this excitement was the thrill of cheating.

It was two weeks later that I was at a bar in town where Harry and I planned to meet before having dinner. Harry called me on my cell phone and apologized profusely, saying that an out-of-town customer had just arrived and that he had to be with this customer, and not to wait up for him.

At the time I was really pissed off at Harry, and a guy who'd been eyeing me for the last half hour slid over and asked if I had any problem and could he help me. Without a thought I blurted that my husband just stood me up for business meeting. Well, the guy went into high gear, saying that a husband who preferred a business meeting over such a beautiful wife, etc., etc. The speech was probably well rehearsed and used since the existence of mankind, but when he invited me up to his room in a nearby hotel for some comforting I felt the familiar tingle in my pussy, and without any pretending like I can't, I'm married and this sort, I just agreed and went with him. Well, he turned out to be quite a lousy fuck. Small cock, premature ejaculations (two of them, but at least he tried again), sweaty odor, and yet I managed to cum. I left after an hour and a half and rushed home to shower before hubby came home. I enjoyed my fucking the stranger but only because of that special thrill and excitement. I certainly didn't want Harry to find his leftovers with either his tongue or his cock.

After two more weeks my itch came back. Now I let the head on my shoulders do some thinking. First, I didn't want to catch a disease and transfer it to Harry. So where can I find a fuck where I can be relatively safe? The first answer was married men, ones I can find in a respectable place. Second, we had many friends but I didn't want to mess with them. One rejection could end my marriage, and one not so careful fuck could end both our marriages. So it had to be total strangers who didn't know either the real me or Harry. It had to be total strangers. Okay, where could I find men who were safe and clean, married and total strangers?

I'd heard and read stories about hotel bars. Possibly the more expensive hotels. Our friend, Brian Holcomb, had gone through a messy divorce just a short while ago. He was escorting a customer to the Hilton Hotel where he saw his wife entering the elevator with a guy who had his hands all over her. Brian stayed in the lobby, and after two hours saw his wife coming out of the elevator by herself and with a huge just fucked grin on her face. The wife swore her love for him, but after having her followed by a PI for two weeks he had enough evidence. She'd had an ongoing affair for two years! The divorce became messy because they fought over custody of their two kids. So I have to keep some distance from home too.

That thought put me on hold for two more weeks but the fire in my cunt (Yes, it's not a pussy anymore. It's a plain whorish cunt!) And the excitement of cheating got the better of me and one evening I went to the Airport Marriot and entered the bar. I must say that at age forty I still look good enough so a few men's eyes followed me from the moment I entered. I guess it also had something to do with the way I was dressed. My skirt was just a bit above my knees and I had on a low cut shirt that showed the deep cleavage of my breasts, amplified by the new push-up bra I'd just bought.

I went to the bar, ordered a glass of wine, and before I even started to drink, a good looking guy slid onto the seat next to mine. He had wedding ring on his left hand and looked like he just stepped out of a shower. He started his blah blah blah about what is a beautiful girl like me doing being alone in a bar, etc., etc. Then he bought me a fresh drink while keeping up the talk. We were sitting together not more than twenty minutes when I surprised even myself by leaning over to his ear and quietly saying, "We both know what we want. Why don't we move this up to your room?"

He looked surprised and asked, "How much?"

First I felt insulted, but then I understood and smiled. "I'm not a working girl. I'm just like you, looking for some fun."

Ten minutes later we were fucking, and he was good! Within three hours he fucked me five times, changing positions each time and making me cum seven times! When it was time to leave he said that he had one more night in our town and would I like to meet again the next day ... Harry was on one of his trips again and due back two days later, so I accepted. That was one of the very few times I allowed myself to be twice with the same man, and I enjoyed every minute of it. My excitement was at its peak when Harry came home and I fucked him nearly to death.

For a while I settled into a routine of fucking a stranger once every two weeks. The excitement was tremendous and I thought I was careful enough. From time to time the thought that I may be ruining my marriage came to my mind, but by that time my pussy was making the decisions for me. As time went on, once in two weeks was not enough and I started to increase the frequency to once in ten days, and soon it became once a week.

As the hotel scene started to become less exciting, I remembered that a few years ago Harry and I used to read erotic stories together, stories written by Just-Plain-Bob and Jakewho69 about bars with drinking, dancing and fucking in the parking lot in the backseat of a car.

The next evening I drove across town to a bar with dancing, called the Twilight Zone. I found it on the internet and since I had never visited the suburb before it took me a while to find it. I went to the bar and ordered a glass of wine, but hardly started to drink it when the guys started asking me to dance. I danced a few fast numbers with several guys when a slow dance came on. The guy I danced with last asked me to stay on and we started the slow dance. About a minute later the guy started pushing his hard cock against my pussy. First it was a tentative push, probably to see my reaction, and he pulled back. Then it was a longer time and again he pulled back. The third time I grabbed his ass and pulled him against me and started mashing my cunt against his hard cock. His hands went down to my ass and pulled me still tighter, and then one hand came up and started squeezing my breast. I was high! It was so good feeling his horny probing! My pussy became soaked in an instant! When the dance ended he looked at me with questioning eyes and moved his head towards the door. I couldn't speak, so I just nodded my head. Five minutes later I was on the backseat of my SUV with him pumping his exceptionally large cock into me. I came twice before I felt him shooting into me and I came again. Then we kissed goodbye, I got dressed and drove home. I was still in the shower when Harry arrived, so I called out to him to join me in the shower. You can imagine what went on in the shower.

Anyway, I started switching scenes — once a week picking up guys in the hotel and once a week going to the dance bar and getting laid on the backseat of my car. Yes, it was in the same week — I started fucking around twice a week.

A few times I tried to think that I should reduce my activities because it was clear that this just couldn't go on for a long time before I got caught and my marriage would end. I really could not believe that my husband would be the type of guy in JPB's stories who would get turned on watching his wife get fucked by strangers or hearing about her escapades on her back, but by then I was hooked! It was like a drug addiction, only my addiction was to strange cocks.

I remember clearly a few incidents that were more than just normal fucking. Like one guy I fucked at a hotel. He was really good and made me cum quite a few times. When we were about to leave his room he asked me to wait, that he had something to tell me. It turned out that he had a sixteen year old son who'd been a virgin and he wanted to teach him about sex. He then asked whether I'd be willing to meet him with his son to help teach the boy. The thought of fucking a young boy, younger than my own son, turned me on so bad that I nearly had an orgasm just thinking about it, so, of course, I agreed and we set the date.

The guy arrived with a cute boy and immediately started the teaching. He started kissing me, explaining to the boy how to kiss a woman, how to seduce a woman and how to make her feel good and hot. He undressed me slowly, explaining to the boy the different erogenous zones on a woman, and while demonstrating on my body he explained where it was best to use his hands, his finger tips, his mouth and his tongue. The demonstration was so good that I had three orgasms before he even stuck his cock into me.

After he came he just told the boy to go for it, but suggested that I suck him off first as the boy was probably going to shoot off after just a few seconds. The boy really had a nice cock and he started cumming just as I had him in my mouth. He tried to pull back but I held his ass and got him to cum in my mouth. He had an amazed look on his face, watching me swallow the whole load — and what a load it was!

The boy started imitating the foreplay his father showed him, but after a few minutes I said, "Just fuck me!" and he did. He shot into me after about five minutes, but stayed hard and without any stop he continued to fuck me. This time he lasted fifteen minutes and I came twice. The stamina of youth! Then the father fucked me again until I was exhausted.

The last words I heard as they were leaving the room were the father telling his son, "Just never let your mother hear about this!"

Another time I remember clearly was my first time with a black man at the Twilight Zone. The guy had such a big cock that I was sore for two days. He fucked me twice, making me cum three times on each fuck.

I quickly arrived at five to six fucks a week. Usually it was five because Harry always tried to be home on weekends, but when he was away on Saturdays, I snuck out then too. How my boys never found out what I was doing I still don't know.

It was only in the last year that I felt a change in Harry, a change that should have started warning bells ringing in my head, but my head wasn't working clearly by that time. They say that a man's little head takes over and his big head stops working. Well, I can tell you now that a woman's cunt has the same effect.

It had dawned on me only after several months that Harry had stopped making love to me. Oh, he still fucked me every few weeks but it wasn't his wonderful love making. Stranger yet, he'd started using condoms whenever he fucked me, and after every fuck I'd find a $100 note tucked into my purse. I hadn't given those facts much thought, except for the condom thing — Harry had a vasectomy after Tim was born, and I had my tubes tied. So why suddenly the use of condoms? But as I said before, I was thinking with my cunt and not with my head so I just let it go. Actually by that time I didn't really need Harry's love making. I was being fucked so many times that one more or one less couldn't have made much difference.

About six months ago I had another surprise that was both a warning and a new upgrade to my sex life.

One Monday morning Joyce Hellmann, who lived three houses down our street and with whom we had an off and on friendly relationship, rang my bell. She'd come for a friendly chat. After an hour of small talk she handed me an envelope, saying that she and her family were moving away on Wednesday, and asked me to read the contents of the envelope on Tuesday morning and not before 9 o'clock.

Well, curiosity got me, and Tuesday at 9 o'clock sharp I opened the envelope and the letter read:

Dear Brenda

I'm a slut and it takes a slut to know another slut. You are a slut too. I've followed your growing "career" at the parking lot of the Twilight Zone and have seen you at several hotels in the area. I must say that you are not too discreet, because if I know what you do then others probably know too.

At this point I suddenly got scared. If any of our friends found out like Joyce did, I was in deep trouble. But I read on.

There is a big difference though between you and me, that makes me an even bigger slut than you are. You see, while I believe that your husband doesn't (yet) know what you are — my husband knows about me and he loves it. He loves it so much that he even supplies guys to fuck me and loves to watch. Yes, when he brings men to fuck me I do it at my own home, and he and my eighteen year old son either sit behind the one way mirror we've installed in our bedroom, or I start the video cameras that cover our bed from three angles so they can watch later. Then, both of them fuck me to oblivion! My son actually invites friends over, and then with one excuse or another, leaves me alone with them so I can seduce them. Teenage boys are sooo easy to seduce! Two months ago our sixteen year old daughter started watching too, and she became so hot she nearly raped her bother. Two weeks later she had my husband fuck her, and since then we've been having full-blown family orgies. She's now expressing wishes to be fucked by strangers too, which is something we are going to start at our new home. I'm quite certain that your husband doesn't know what you do because my husband even tried to get him to fuck me too. But that only made your husband angry saying that he doesn't cheat on you and has never needed to use whores. That name was actually a compliment for me, but it's also the reason why we've stopped visiting you together.

Have I caught your interest by now? Then I have an offer for you that will make you reduce your "activities" at least by two days a week. Do you like young cocks? If you are interested in being fucked once a week by nine boys age sixteen to eighteen — keep reading. If not, please burn this letter right now. Keep reading only if I really got your interest, but then memorize the instructions and burn the letter.

Of course I was interested. The known stamina of young boys had me VERY interested. My fluids were gushing already as I kept reading.

So, I got your interest. Today, please drive to the high school parking lot. At the very end of the parking lot you'll find a gravel road. Keep driving on it for about one mile and turn right. After a short drive you'll find yourself on a small hill. Take some good binoculars with you! Be there a few minutes before 2 pm and watch what happens down the road to the south. After the action that you see ends, you'll be contacted by two seniors from the school. They are the welcoming committee. Just follow their instructions and you'll be into the very special life of teenage boys.

Happy fucking!

Your friend and accomplice,

Joyce

Well, I was on the hill at 1:45 pm with some good binoculars I'd grabbed from the family's camping gear. My juices were flowing and my thong was drenched.

At 1:55, three vans drove down the road and stopped on the right. A minute later, cars started arriving and stopping on the left. By 2:00 pm there were eight cars on the left side of the road, standing bumper to bumper. As if by a signal, all eight drivers got out of the cars. All eight drivers were women, and although I could not recognize their faces, it was clear that all eight women were about my age — late thirties to early forties. Again as if by a signal, all the women took their clothes off. Most of them had no underwear on, so it was quick. They folded their clothes and put them on the front seats, then closed the front doors, opened the back doors, and waited.